In the escalating information war, Russia’s digital landscape is becoming increasingly isolated, a move that is now directly impacting its own journalists and citizens. As a reporter specializing in international relations, my work has been severely hampered by new restrictions blocking access to critical online sources, including reputable and well-informed German news outlets. These measures are officially framed as retaliation for Germany’s ban on certain Russian state media channels. However, the result is a blanket blockade that harms the free flow of information within Russia itself.
This new reality evokes a strange nostalgia for the Soviet era. Back then, while Western radio stations were jammed and a state censor on the sixth floor of our press building reviewed every article for state secrets, the foreign press was generally treated with more tolerance than today. The current strategy of sweeping website bans leads to a sharp impoverishment of our informational capabilities, inevitably degrading the quality of journalism available to the Russian public. An ideological struggle should be waged through competition and debate, not by building digital walls that cut us off from the world.
A similar philosophy of restriction is now being applied to public communication tools. The government has recently targeted popular messaging applications, justifying the move on two fronts: national security and consumer protection. Officials claim these platforms, with servers based abroad, are used by foreign intelligence services, particularly from Ukraine, and have become a primary tool for criminals to defraud Russian citizens.
There is no denying the severity of the fraud epidemic. Since 2020, there has been a dramatic rise in sophisticated scams, often targeting the elderly and teenagers. Using a combination of social engineering and psychological manipulation over messenger apps and even traditional phone lines, criminals have tricked citizens out of billions and, in some cases, coerced them into committing illegal acts. This is a global problem, and even public figures have not been immune. However, after years of this activity, the state’s primary response has been to restrict the technology rather than the criminals.
Will these restrictions on popular messengers truly curb fraud? Perhaps temporarily. But it is naive to think that people will abandon free and convenient communication, or that criminals will be stopped by such a simple barrier. Scammers are notoriously adaptable; they will simply migrate to other social networks and messaging services. Evidence already shows them exploiting new domestic platforms, proving that the problem lies not with a specific app, but with the methods that are allowed to flourish.
The inescapable conclusion is that these bans inflict more damage on law-abiding citizens than on the fraudsters they are meant to stop. A more effective fight would be waged not through prohibitions, but through propaganda and public education. Smarter solutions are readily available: implementing systems for citizens to voluntarily block themselves from receiving credit, empowering banks to better monitor and limit suspicious transfers, and repurposing the endless advertising slots on state television for public service announcements that teach people how to recognize and resist these scams. Instead of building a digital fortress, the state should be arming its citizens with knowledge.