On Monday, TVRain, the only private television outlet in Russia whose
political coverage is not guided by loyalty to the Kremlin, showed a
split screen to viewers. One live shot showed President Vladimir Putin
giving an annual address marking Russia Day. Other live shots showed
scenes from anti-corruption protest rallies staged in Moscow, St.
Petersburg, and other Russian cities and towns.

The rallies included crowds of mostly young people cheerfully chanting
“Russia without Putin” and “Putin is a thief,” and calling for Prime
Minister Dmitry Medvedev’s dismissal. Police confronted the crowds,
grabbing young demonstrators, twisting their arms, and dragging them to
police vans. In his speech, meanwhile, Putin
praised “people’s
cohesion,” “political stability,” and “consolidation of society” in
Russia. When asked by reporters about the anti-corruption protesters
rallying a half mile from where Putin was speaking, the mayor of Moscow,
Sergei Sobyanin, declined to
comment.

The protests were initiated by Alexey
Navalny,
the Russian activist who for years has led an anti-corruption campaign
against high-ranking officials. Navalny is a uniquely effective
political figure in a country where politics was long ago cleansed of
competition. Navalny’s indefatigable anti-graft campaign, his image as a
man of the people with a great sense of humor, and his fearlessness in
the face of perpetual government harassment and persecution—as well as
attacks by vigilantes—have made him the most prominent opposition figure
in Russia. Navalny’s ability to package his allegations in viral videos
has made him especially popular among young, urban Russians. He is the
only opposition figure in Russia capable of bringing together large
groups of supporters.

Earlier this year, the Navalny-led Anti-Corruption Foundation released a
documentary accusing Medvedev of corruption. The film attracted a large
online audience. (So far, it has been viewed twenty-two million times.)
In late March, Navalny called for a national anti-corruption rally. In
many cities, authorities did not sanction the gatherings, but, contrary
to expectations, large numbers of Russians attended anyway. In Moscow
alone, more than a thousand protesters were detained, some beaten by the
police. Navalny was sentenced to fifteen days in jail. This was the
largest protest in Russia in five years, and participants were, on
average, far younger than at previous rallies. The geographic breadth of
the demonstrations, held in dozens of cities and towns, was also wider
than during prior protests. By far the largest crowds gathered in Moscow
and St. Petersburg.

Navalny then called for Monday’s anti-corruption demonstrations.
Pointedly organizing protests on Russia Day, he unveiled a “patriots’
plan” that sought to strip the government of its self-declared monopoly
on patriotism and show that a Russian patriot does not have to be a
Putin loyalist. Navalny’s message was that being a harsh critic of the
Kremlin is patriotic, because critics care about making their country
better. To reinforce the theme, Navalny urged protesters to carry
Russian flags. Navalny called it “a peaceful action under Russian flags
on Russia Day.”

On his Web site the day before the rally, Navalny urged Russians not to
see protesting as futile: “Don't say ‘it's pointless.’ There’s nothing
worse than that. It’s because of ‘it’s pointless’ that Putin’s
billionaire friends are hanging on. Don’t say ‘I don't have the time.
I’m busy. . . .’ You have two hours for a peaceful walk outdoors in good
weather. You don’t have more important business.”

Since Putin’s return to the Kremlin, in 2012, the government has
hardened its policies toward public dissent, and officials across Russia
are concerned about suppressing or, better yet, preventing opposition
initiatives. This goal has become even more important as the 2018
Presidential election draws closer.

The authorities did all they could to disrupt Monday’s protests, short
of a direct ban. In Moscow, Navalny was not allowed to stage the rally
downtown, and was forced to agree to a more distant venue.
Law-enforcement officials searched his Moscow office; activists in
several cities were attacked by vigilantes. (In April, Navalny
himself was assaulted by an attacker who splashed liquid in his face,
causing a chemical burn that temporarily damaged his vision.) A few days
before Monday’s rally, city officials in Moscow announced that they had
equipment that would allow them to film and identify every person who
attended.

On the evening before the protests, Navalny posted a message saying that
rally organizers in Moscow could not get local businesses to supply them
with a sound system. He reported that the mayor’s office was warning
local businesspeople not to deal with Navalny and the event. In a final
effort to outmaneuver authorities, Navalny moved the rally to Tverskaya,
Moscow’s main street, which would be closed to traffic because of the
Russia Day celebrations.

Navalny never made it to Tverskaya. He was detained as he was leaving
his apartment building;his wife took a photo of the arrest from their
balcony. He was promptly sentenced to thirty days in
prison.

Still, the number of protests staged in different parts of the country
on Monday was even greater than that of Navalny’s demonstrations in late
March. “People in the regions are influenced by the wave, and this wave
is rising,” Kirill Rogov, a Russian political expert, said on TVRain,
after the protest. “It dipped in 2013-2015, but it is returning now.”

Once again, most of the protesters were very young. The Tverskaya
gathering was fairly peaceful, as Navalny had promised, with little
political messaging beyond anti-Putin chants. But the police responded
with beatings and mass detentions. (More than eight hundred protesters
were detained in Moscow, along with more than six hundred in St. Petersburg and
about two hundred in other localities.) The next day, Moscow’s mayor
said that the protest on Tverskaya had been “a villainous and dangerous
provocation” and called the police response “professional and
appropriate.”

Navalny, who announced late last year that he would run for President in
2018, remains at the mercy of the Kremlin, which is unlikely to allow
him to run. As a potential Presidential contender, he does not present a
serious threat to Putin. Though he may be popular among urban youth, a
May poll showed that just two
per cent of likely voters were willing to vote for him; eighty-two per
cent said they would vote for Putin.

Nevertheless, Navalny presents a dilemma. The Kremlin can sentence him
to a long prison term, but doing so might strengthen the mostly passive
discontent in Russia and reduce voter turnout. Putin needs a decisive
victory in 2018, and he can't get that without a large number of urban
votes. Support from provincial, older, and conservative constituencies
will not be enough. But, if Navalny remains free, he could capitalize on
growing anger about egregious corruption among élites. The temptation to
neutralize Navalny—by arresting him, or with other measures—will likely
rise closer to the election, next spring.

Videos from Monday’s rally showed young people defying government
authorities at the risk of being beaten or detained. Though they have
responded to Navalny’s calls, no cohesive opposition political movement
has emerged, apart from these occasional protests. So far, Navalny has
failed to significantly expand the number of protesters or offer his
supporters a new and clear political agenda.

Yet discontent in parts of Russian society is not dissipating. Beyond
Navalny’s rallies, a growing number of protests in response to
socioeconomic problems have broken out in various parts of the country.

Throughout his many years in power, Putin has repeatedly spoken of the need for cohesion and unity. Late last year, he claimed that the Russian people finally “managed to achieve . . . social, political, and civil concord.” Yet “reconciliation” and “concord,” for Putin’s Kremlin, leave no room for independent activism or political dissent. His effort to consolidate power by intimidating protesters will only deepen the alienation of independent-minded Russians from the ruling élite.