The streets speak. Anti‑war messages in Russian cities

People who oppose war through street art have been dubbed “semiotic partisans” because their creativity undermines the meaning of official propaganda, says anthropologist Alexandra Arkhipova. “They demonstrate that there are people who oppose this war, and there are many such people,“ she says. ”And they are fighting for the opportunity to demonstrate an alternative point of view in public space.”

Messages can be direct or hidden. For example, “No to war!” is the most typical of direct messages. Such statements do not require disguise.

Direct messages have two imaginary interlocutors. One of them is a Russian who believes propaganda or claims to be “apolitical,” distancing himself from what is happening. “Semiotic partisans” try to reach out to such people. For example, in February 2022, a drawing appeared on one of the streets of St. Petersburg with the text: “Ukraine is not our enemy.”

The second target of the “semiotic partisans” is Vladimir Putin. In the first year of the war, street art often featured direct messages to Putin, although his name was not always mentioned: “Go away,” “You’ve fucked up,” “You’re dragging us to hell.”

In recent years, the number of direct messages—not only to Putin, but in general—has decreased, Alexandra Arkhipova tells Mediazona. “The dialogue is taking place within the group, not with an external audience,” she says.

At the same time, there is no doubt about who all these inscriptions with veiled death wishes are dedicated to, the anthropologist notes.

Or with an unambiguous hint that Putin should be in prison.

Calls for peace in a “place without a place”—in the forest and in the park—are appearing in different regions of the country, Arkhipova continues.

The paper crane is one of the most famous anti-war symbols. Russians also leave them in random places. “This small, inconspicuous gesture is largely directed not so much at those around them as at themselves,” Arkhipova believes. “German historian Alf Ludtke called such things Eigensinn, ‘self-willedness’. It is not so much a political statement as a gesture designed to show: I have not bowed down, I retain my own will, I am against this war.”

OVD-Info, a human rights and media project, in its report “Repression in Russia in 2025,” records 142 cases of persecution for anti-war statements last year. This is less than in all previous years of the full-scale war. All cases of persecution are related to statements against the war in Ukraine.

However, this does not mean that repression in Russia has eased, the authors of the report emphasize. The state has shifted its focus to particularly serious charges: treason and “terrorism” articles. 

“Calls for terrorism” became the most frequent political charge in 2025: at least 81 cases of persecution, 46 of which were anti-war. In second place is the article on spreading “fake news” about the Russian army: at least 46 cases in 2025. Third place went to “discrediting” the army: at least 15 cases recorded by OVD-Info.

Compared to 2021, the average sentence length also increased from six to eight years, and three times more convictions in political cases were handed down in 2025 than before the war.

The Russian authorities are intensively blocking the internet; people are prohibited from searching for “extremist” content and advertising VPN services. Roskomnadzor, the censorship agency, under the guise of “countering criminals,” has restricted calls via Telegram and WhatsApp. Meanwhile, Russians are being forced to use a “safe” alternative in the form of the state-owned Max messenger: employers and heads of educational institutions are forcing their employees and students to install it, and the State Duma has mandated that all residential group chats to MAX in all Russian regions.

In December, Roskomnadzor blocked the Roblox gaming platform for “justifying extremism and terrorism,” inciting violence, and “LGBT propaganda.” Russians, including children, are annoyed by the blockages.

The “carousel” arrests of members of the Stoptime street band from St. Petersburg also affected street art. The musicians were first detained on October 15. Until November 23, they were held under consecutive administrative arrests: after serving their sentences, they were detained near the exit of the detention center and taken to court for the consideration of another case. In the end, the musicians were able to leave Russia.

One of the three reports of “discrediting” the army against singer Diana Loginova (stage name Naoko) was drawn up because she performed the song “Swan Lake Coop” by Noize MC, about Vladimir Putin and his entourage. In May 2025, a Russian court banned it, stating that the song “uses humiliating and offensive characteristics that can be identified with a figure symbolising the people of the Russian Federation.”

Pyotr Chaikovsky’s ballet “Swan Lake” became a symbol of the death of a “leader” in late Soviet are: it was broadcasted on TV when Leonid Brezhnev and Yuri Andropov passed, as well as during the coup attempt against Mikhail Gorbachev in 1991. This symbol is often used in contemporary Russian protest art.

According to OVD-Info, in 2025, the Ministry of Justice added 178 individuals and 37 organisations to the register of “foreign agents,” for a total of 215 (in 2024, there were 164).

Journalists were most often added to the register, with 90 names. The media are still in the lead as a category. There were also more cultural figures (17 people) and researchers (23) among the “foreign agents.” Since the fall of 2025, creative initiatives (the DAR literary prize and the SlovoNovo festival of contemporary Russian culture) have been included in the register.

The authors of another category of street art try to express their complex feelings and share them with those who see these graffiti, stickers, or drawings.

The Borisov Cemetery in Moscow, where Alexei Navalny, who was killed in prison, was buried on March 1, 2024, has become a true “people’s memorial,” says anthropologist Alexandra Arkhipova. People still bring flowers and notes to the politician’s grave.

“It’s a way to make a collective statement and show that ‘there are many of us,’” she believes.

Editor: Maria Klimova