Is a New Revolution Possible in Russia? The very question makes people nervous. Some whisper, “Of course not, Russians are too passive.” Others insist: “The moment will come, and everything will collapse overnight.”

But revolutions are never lightning from a clear sky. They are storms that form slowly. Pressure builds until the air itself feels heavy, poisonous, ready to explode.

And right now, in Russia, that pressure is rising. The warning lights are flickering red.

Today we’re going to trace the anatomy of revolution—and test whether Russia fits the pattern.

Here’s the roadmap, from start to finish:

• Checkpoint 1—The Nature of Civic Unrest: How societies crack when “normal life” is stripped away.
  
• Checkpoint 2—Potential Revolutionaries: Who might rise up—and why Russia lacks them.
  
• Checkpoint 3—Four Scenarios: Moscow uprisings, mutinies, palace coups, and regional collapse.
  
• Checkpoint 4—Self-Organization and Ideology: Why anger alone is not enough—and what idea could ignite change.
  
• And finally, the Verdict: We return to the question: Is revolution close, or does Russia remain locked in paralysis?
  

Stay with me—because by the end, you’ll see not only how revolutions are born, but whether Russia’s own storm is already gathering.

The Nature of Civic Unrest

For nature, the true “actor” in the human species is not the individual, but society. Alone, we cannot survive or raise children. That is why society functions like an organism: when it is healthy, most of its members can fulfill their core drives and accept life as “normal.”

A revolution begins when that organism turns on itself—like cancer. Some cells attack the others, and the result is either a long illness or death.

Normality, then, is the key. But normality means different things to different people. Some crave safety. Some seek belonging. Others pursue discovery. Together, these drives balance into a functioning society, where everyone contributes in some way.

For the core personality archetype called Hunters, life only has meaning when they are winning, achieving, and earning the respect of peers, especially other Hunters. Without victory, they collapse into depression or lash out at their families, creating the illusion of conquest by crushing those closest to them. (You can read more about personality archetypes on my website, elvirabary.com, in the Sphinx Method section.)

The problem is that all these drives evolved tens of thousands of years ago, for a very different world, a tribe of a few dozen people where everyone depended on each other. In that environment, mutual control provided natural checks and balances.

Think of the ancient Hunter. If he brought home a deer or defeated a rival, he was admired. But if he crossed a line, his tribe could punish or even kill him—yes, even the chief.

Now contrast that with the modern state. An authoritarian regime allows a Hunter to climb to the top of vast hierarchies and remain there for as long as possible. But his instincts have not changed. In his mind, the ruler still lives inside a tiny tribe—his inner circle. He depends on its approval, craves its admiration, and ignores the rest of the nation.

To him, citizens become prey—a herd of deer or bison he can hunt whenever he chooses. The country itself is his hunting ground. Outwardly, he keeps up appearances, claiming to speak for the people and to care for his subjects. But in reality, he has only the vaguest idea of their needs and desires. Just as the ancient Hunter never considered the social bonds or personal struggles of the animals he pursued. It didn’t matter. He was after their meat.

The authoritarian ruler spends national resources as if they were his own—whether crops, cheap labor, oil, or control of trade routes. He wages wars to impress his peers and fellow rulers. 

And because he controls the resource, proximity to him becomes a resource in itself. Those closest to him form clans, social structures that receive their cut and defend him in return. This is the foundation of every authoritarian regime: privilege. The chosen few feel “special,” and they support the ruler because he supports their status.

It is crucial for an authoritarian society to create and maintain privilege. The right to own land. The right to wear certain colors. The right to trade. The right to carry a sword.

These privileges ensure that those who have already climbed high in the social hierarchy will fear losing their status. They defend the regime not out of love, but out of self-preservation—because only within this system do their privileges have meaning.

That is why rulers constantly invent new restrictions, sometimes absurd ones. The purpose is not the ban itself, but the exception. Elites are allowed to bypass the rules, and in return, they feel obligated to defend the ruler and his regime, as if it were something dear to their hearts.

Like primates in the wild, humans accept hierarchy as normal. The alpha takes the best food, the best mates, and the safest shelter. That is okay. If ordinary people can preserve their self-respect—if they can meet their core needs for safety, belonging, achievement, and exploration—then society remains quiet. But when they are stripped of purpose, rebellion brews.

Hungry people don’t revolt—they die quietly. Revolt begins with those who still have strength, health, and the burning conviction that justice has been stolen. For them, the loss of meaning feels worse than death.

So, for society to remain stable, resources must be distributed not equally—that is impossible—but broadly enough that most people can fulfill their natural drives. That is how tribes once survived.

The alternative is violence. A ruler and his elite may enforce obedience through punishment, but this only works when families produce many children to replenish the ranks. If not, society runs out of subjects. And that is precisely the danger today. Look at China. Look at Iran. Look at Russia. These are societies where the leadership hoards resources, blocks meaning for millions, and forces the organism to consume itself alive.

The society is stable as long as resources flow, and rulers can bribe elites and pay soldiers. But what happens when the state weakens? When it cannot pay, cannot privilege, and simultaneously crushes the ordinary person’s chance to fulfill their instincts?

Then the system begins to crack. The smell of revolution enters the air. If Russia had a control panel with warning lights, the “Danger of Revolution” needle would already be heading into the red.

Potential Revolutionaries

Every revolution needs a base—people who will storm the barricades and risk their lives. And history tells us: usually, this burden falls on young men.

And here, Russia faces a paradox. There are simply too few of them.

For decades, Soviet and Russian families had only one or two children. That made every child precious. A boy didn’t have to compete with his brothers to prove his strength. He grew up both overvalued and overprotected. The result? Young men with a sharp sense of their own worth and a crippling fear of risk. To die would be too heavy a loss for the family. And yet, inside, frustration gnaws—especially for those who fit the Hunter personality archetype but achieve nothing.

Add to this the brutal mathematics of the 20th century. The bravest men, the true risk-takers, were destroyed. The Civil War, two World Wars, Stalin’s purges—all consumed the boldest. Today’s Russians are the descendants of those who survived by keeping their heads down. 

Another problem is that weapons are scarce. Russian civil society has tried to protest with bare hands—and ended up with beatings and arrests. Yes, the war in Ukraine has created a huge black market in weapons, but most of it has fallen into the hands of local gangs or private militias formed by officials and businessmen who believe they need their own armies.

Could Russian soldiers returning from the frontlines form the social base of a revolution? In theory, yes — if they arrived in the major cities simultaneously, in large numbers, and armed.

But in reality, most joined the war as contract soldiers — for money or for imperial dreams. That means they sided with the regime and profited from its victories. Those who die in suicidal assaults change nothing. It is a death conveyor belt: the state feeds in fresh “meat,” mostly from villages and prisons, burns it to capture another doghouse or chicken coop, and higher officers reap the benefits.

These men are not interested in revolution. And those sent to their deaths can do nothing. They come from environments where the skills of self-organization and self-defense simply don’t exist. With little education and no habit of thinking ahead, they remain helpless toys in the hands of their commanders.

On top of that stands a massive, well-oiled repression machine — ready to crush anyone who dares to challenge the system.

What about the opposition? Crushed. Leaders have been jailed, exiled, or killed. Alexei Navalny, the most visible challenger, is gone. Abroad, exiles post angrily and give interviews, but with little to no effect.

The reasons are obvious: without organization, finances, or access to the people inside Russia, they can only hope that one day something happens—and that they will somehow take part in it. But that “something” will happen without them anyway.

Exile itself makes things worse. Many opposition figures abroad struggle with income, documents, legal status, and constant stress. Psychologists say the three greatest traumas in life are losing a child, divorce, and forced emigration.

Inside Russia, the opposition survives underground: friends meet in secret, write letters to political prisoners, and quietly help Ukrainians stranded inside the country. But without weapons, without organization, and without a young generation ready to risk their lives, this is not the material from which revolutions are made.

Sanctions, too, have a double edge. They bleed Putin’s war machine, but also strangle society’s strength to resist. Ordinary Russians, already deprived of opportunity, are further cut off, struggling for survival instead of change.

And the elites? They are the last to move. Why would they gamble everything they sacrificed to climb so high? Those already privileged fear revolution the most. Yes, war shattered the old balance. For decades, elites lived by the formula: earn in Russia, spend in London, retire in Nice. That lifeline is gone. Yet what terrifies them most is losing status inside Russia.

They may hate the war, but the thought of replacing the supreme leader terrifies them even more. When one clan falls, others rise—and no one knows whose empire will crumble. If the attempt fails, repression follows, as in Turkey after the coup attempt.

This is why elites cling to the throne. Not out of love—but out of fear of losing everything.

The average Russian citizen is a woman in her forties. She is too busy caring for children and elderly parents, and her survival strategy is adaptation. She avoids arguing with her boss and tries to obey the rules, no matter how absurd they may be.

But if these women feel a direct threat to their loved ones—for example, through mass mobilization—there is potential for social unrest.

We saw something like this in Belarus in 2020. It was, in many ways, a women’s revolution. But it failed because the police sided with President Lukashenko. When he ordered the protests suppressed, they beat those women, broke their arms, and raped them. 

Russia today is like a wet log thrown into the fire. It doesn’t ignite, despite the heat and its very nature as fuel, because its current state won’t allow it. But the water is evaporating, and the bark is already beginning to char.

Four Scenarios

If a revolution does happen, what could it look like?

Scenario One: The Capital Rises

If something happens in Moscow and the old regime falls, most Russian regions would likely shrug and accept the new bosses. That is why the capital is so important, and the Kremlin knows it. Life in major cities is kept tolerable on purpose. Who cares if the Far East queues for gasoline? What matters is Moscow, and to a lesser degree, St. Petersburg.

Civic unrest becomes possible only if the regime visibly loses control: empty stores, no fuel, officials and state workers left unpaid. Since most Russians live paycheck to paycheck, including in Moscow, that would shatter the illusion of normality. If crowds gather and police refuse to beat them, it could resemble Kyiv during its Maidan revolution.

But here’s the catch. If collapse goes too far, too fast, the police won’t join the people—they’ll defend their own privileges. In a society on the brink of exhaustion, those with access to weapons, food, and medicine form a new elite. And they cling to that status because the alternative is poverty, illness, or death.

If the economy collapses, people with rifles will rob those without. I describe this in my historical novel, Russian Treasures, about the 1917 Revolution and those who survived it through intellect, spirit, and mutual support.

It is a fragile balance: too little hardship and no one moves; too much, and one elite merely replaces another, often worse than before.

Scenario Two: A Mutiny in the Army

Possible, but unlikely. It would require one of two triggers: payments stop, or Russia suffers a crushing military defeat. So far, China and India continue buying Russian oil, and any budget deficit can be papered over with newly printed money.

As for defeat, Ukraine alone cannot deliver it — it lacks manpower. And Western politicians still hope Russia will exhaust itself in Ukraine and eventually seek peace on acceptable terms.

Why not expect a successful military coup? Because professional soldiers died en masse in the early days of the war, replaced by recruits who were never the sharpest tools to begin with. Their moral standards are low — they agreed to kill neighbors for cash, convinced they would somehow escape death or injury.

We saw how such a mutiny might unfold during Yevgeny Prigozhin’s march on Moscow. Stupid decisions breed stupid consequences. Without social bonds or noble ideology to attract allies in the army or in civil society, any mutiny would end in disaster — for the rebels themselves as much as for the nation.

Yes, in theory, soldiers could storm Moscow and force the elites to scatter to their villas abroad. But then what? They would celebrate by looting, drinking, and splashing in the fountains — maybe even chasing down a few officials foolish enough to stay. But the bureaucracy would never support them. Without it, they cannot build reforms. Soon enough, the old guard would regroup, hire one band of veterans to crush the other, and restore the system. The faces might change, but the structure would remain the same.

The state knows a “veteran revolution” would be messy, and does everything possible to prevent it. First, it eliminates charismatic leaders — they learned that lesson with Prigozhin. Second, it pays handsomely those who keep the army in an iron grip. And third, it makes sure armed men never return from the front. Desertion is very difficult in this terrain, under constant drone surveillance. Soldiers’ survival depends on fuel, food, medicine, and ammunition — and those who control the supply chains control life and death in the trenches.

Scenario Three: A Palace Coup

Possible, but highly unlikely. Conspirators must be in direct contact with Putin, and he ensures that no one gets close unless he feels safe.

None of his cronies are likable or charismatic. Without Putin, they have zero popularity. The system has purged potential rivals for decades, eliminating anyone who might challenge the status quo.

The rule of the elite is simple: sacrifice the country for a personal gain worth a ruble, even if it costs society a hundred. Those unwilling to play disappeared long ago. After twenty-five years of this, only perfectly corrupt officials remain. They cannot survive outside the system—they have no careers, no livelihoods beyond their privileges. If the regime stands, a corrupt judge or parliamentarian is powerful and feared. If it falls, he is nobody: at best a retiree, at worst a prisoner.

The system has already begun devouring itself as the pie shrinks. Hardly a week passes without the arrest of an important official. Property is confiscated and handed to more loyal insiders.

The irony? Top officials share the same mindset as the lowest recruits—both believe harm will come to someone else, never to them.

Scenario Four: Regional Collapse

Again, possible. Russia’s tax system is simple: Moscow hoards revenue, then redistributes it. Regional leaders depend entirely on this pipeline and their appointments from above.

But if infrastructure collapses, if local problems grow unmanageable and Moscow fails to help, governors may decide it is safer to break away—especially in national republics with their own identity and resources.

Yet survival without Moscow is difficult. Take Tatarstan: strong economy, national identity, and oil. But it is landlocked. Its oil cannot reach world markets independently, and its waterways lead to the Caspian, already crowded with competitors.

Chechnya? Its elites live off Moscow’s subsidies—independence would starve them. Yakutia? Larger than twelve United Kingdoms combined, but with only about a million people. How could it manage infrastructure or governance alone?

The regime knows these risks—and strikes first:

    •    Internet restrictions. Social media and messengers blocked to prevent self-organization.

    •    Ban after ban. The latest proposal: outlaw even searching for “extremist information.” What qualifies is left unclear. The popular joke: “The Duma passed a law: nothing is allowed. Exceptions will be announced later.”

    •    Random arrests. People detained for absurd reasons, creating a climate of fear. Russian prisons are notorious for destroying both body and mind. Today, you can be jailed for “discrediting the army,” “insulting religion,” or questioning a decision. Once, only open dissenters were targeted. Now, even a hint of independent thought is punished — even when it comes from loyalists, as in the case of propagandist Sergey Markov.

    •    Deliberate corruption of officials. Stupid proposals and harmful policies are encouraged to ensure that no politician can gain momentum by offering an alternative to Putin’s regime. If you say something outrageous enough to destroy your own reputation, it proves you cannot be independent, and you will never challenge Putin.

At the same time, carrots are handed to the faithful. They live off the state budget and enjoy immunity from the law. They can even kill someone in a car accident and walk away untouched.

Self-Organization and Ideology

People unite around three things: family, profit, or an idea. Russia’s ruling class has the first two. Ordinary people—if they’re lucky—have family support. But many have none of the three.

For over a century, Russian society has been atomized. Under Bolshevik rule, all forms of self-organization were destroyed: parish councils, civic assemblies, zemstvo institutions. If the state didn’t allow it, it couldn’t exist. Putin’s regime has followed the same path. As a result, the only forms of self-organization that survive are criminal gangs and ethnic networks.

And without a shared idea, nothing changes. Anger is not enough. A revolution without ideology merely substitutes one elite for another.

The right ideology, in my view, is both simple and radical: end the system of privilege and the concentration of power in a single pair of hands.

Privilege is the root of war. It drives leaders to seize resources, expand borders, and prove themselves by sacrificing millions.

To break the cycle requires more than protest. It requires a clear program:

    •    Abolish the presidency. No one person should have the power to rule a vast nation alone. To hold the fate of millions creates imperial ambitions and the temptation to destroy lives in the name of “greatness.”

    •    Restructure the financial system. Moscow should not drain the regions and send crumbs back. Instead, the regions should “hire” the capital to handle national security and the Central Bank.

    •    Elected governors and mayors. No more appointments from above.

    •    Local control of police and security forces. Financed by local budgets, accountable to local voters.

    •    Overhaul the judicial system. Break the chain of political courts that serve the autocrat.

    •    Abandon the imperial dream. Stop pretending to be a mighty empire and a helpless victim of foreign plots at the same time.

And finally, Russia must confront the resource curse. Oil and gas cannot remain the bloodstream of power. As long as they are, privilege will regenerate.

Ironically, the Russian elites would benefit from allowing true democracy. Democracy is not an abstract ideal—it is their safety net. In democracies, political failure does not mean personal ruin. A politician can lose an election and still return. A party can step aside and later rebuild. There is a dignified way out for a Hunter.

But Russian elites cling to power because they know that if they lose it, they lose everything. And that instinct for survival may end not with security, but with catastrophe.So, is a new revolution in Russia possible? My answer is: not right now. But the pressure will keep building. And the needle on Russia’s control panel—Danger of Revolution—will continue to tremble at the edge of red.

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