
Russia has fully blocked Meta’s WhatsApp, erasing it from the internet registry and cutting off over 100 million users. The government is forcing citizens onto MAX, an unencrypted state‑backed messenger modelled on China’s WeChat. Telegram is throttled, YouTube degraded. This is the Kremlin’s most aggressive move yet to build a sovereign digital fortress — and it’s already backfiring.
On February 12, 2026, Russia completed what it had been preparing for over a year.
Roskomnadzor, the country’s internet watchdog, removed WhatsApp’s domain from the official registry of permitted sites. The effect was immediate and absolute: for more than 100 million Russian users, the blue chat bubbles vanished. No calls, no texts, no end‑to‑end encryption. Just a spinning wheel and a timeout error.
This was not a slowdown. It was not a partial restriction on voice calls, which had been crippled since last summer. This was a total erasure from the national internet space. Anyone still using WhatsApp now requires a VPN — and the patience to navigate an increasingly fragmented, throttled, and monitored web.
WhatsApp’s response came swiftly on X. “Today the Russian government attempted to fully block WhatsApp in an effort to drive people to a state-owned surveillance app. Trying to isolate over 100 million users from private and secure communication is a backwards step and can only lead to less safety for people in Russia.”
The “state-owned surveillance app” is MAX.
Officially designated Russia’s “national messenger” in 2025, MAX is owned by VK, the country’s dominant social media giant, whose controlling shareholders are deeply embedded in President Vladimir Putin’s inner circle.
Unlike WhatsApp and Telegram, MAX has no end‑to‑end encryption. Messages are visible to the platform operator — and, by extension, to Russian authorities. It is designed as a one‑stop shop: messaging, payments, government services, and identity verification, all inside a single, fully monitored application.
The Kremlin is not leaving adoption to chance. Starting September 1, 2025, a federal law mandates that every smartphone sold in Russia must have MAX pre‑installed. No choice. No opt‑out. The app sits on the home screen, ready to collect data from day one.
For a government that has spent two decades consolidating control over traditional media, the logic is consistent. Independent communication platforms are threats. A national messenger is a sovereign necessity.
Yet the rollout has not gone smoothly. Russians have shown little enthusiasm for a chat app they know is wiretapped. The WhatsApp block is designed to fix that — by eliminating the alternative.
The February 2026 block did not come without warning. Russian authorities have been systematically degrading foreign messaging services since mid‑2024.
July 2024: Voice calling on WhatsApp and Telegram is restricted. Authorities cite “fraud and terrorism” concerns, demanding user data access.
December 2025: WhatsApp slowed by 70–80%. Video and photo sharing becomes unreliable. The app remains usable for text, but barely.
January 2026: State Duma deputy Andrey Svintsov announces that a full WhatsApp block is planned by “the end of 2026.” No one expects it to happen this fast.
February 11, 2026: Roskomnadzor removes WhatsApp from the official directory. The block is immediate and total.
Facebook and Instagram had already been wiped from the registry years earlier, designated as “extremist” organisations. YouTube, while not fully banned, now loads at dial‑up speeds. Russia’s internet is being systematically isolated.
For readers unfamiliar with MAX, a brief profile is necessary.
Developer: VK (formerly Mail.ru Group), Russia’s largest technology company.
Launch Date: March 2025.
Features: Text messaging, voice and video calls, payments, government service portal integration, digital ID.
Encryption: None. Messages are stored on servers accessible to authorities.
Regulatory Status: Designated “national messenger” by official decree; mandatory pre‑installation on all smartphones sold in Russia from September 2025.
User Base (as of Feb 2026): Approximately 35 million monthly active users, largely driven by pre‑installation and workplace mandates.
MAX is frequently compared to China’s WeChat — but without the privacy protections. It is not designed to compete on features or user experience. It is designed to replace foreign apps with a domestically controlled, legally accessible alternative.
WhatsApp is not the only app under pressure. Telegram — far more popular in Russia for news and entertainment — is also being throttled.
This week, Russian authorities visibly degraded Telegram’s performance. The move is technically a “partial restriction,” but for millions of users, the effect is the same: messages delay, videos buffer, calls drop.
The backlash, however, has been different.
Telegram is used by Russian soldiers on the front lines in Ukraine. It is used by civilians in Belgorod and Kursk to receive drone and missile alerts. It is used by war correspondents and military bloggers who have become unlikely celebrities in the nationalist media ecosystem.
When the Kremlin touches Telegram, it touches the war effort.
Vyacheslav Gladkov, the governor of Belgorod region, posted on his Telegram channel: “I am concerned that slowing Telegram could affect the flow of information, if the situation deteriorates.”
This is not dissent. It is operational necessity. And it reveals the fundamental contradiction in Russia’s digital sovereignty project: the state cannot afford to kill the apps its own soldiers rely on.
Pavel Durov, Telegram’s Russia‑born founder, issued a characteristically defiant response.
“Restricting citizens’ freedom is never the right answer. Telegram stands for freedom of speech and privacy, no matter the pressure.”
Durov knows this territory. In 2018, Russia attempted to block Telegram entirely — and failed spectacularly. The app remained accessible via millions of IP addresses, and the ban was quietly lifted after two years. This time, Moscow is trying a softer, subtler approach: slow it down, degrade it, but don’t invite another technical defeat.
Russia is not inventing this model. It is importing it.
Since 2018, Iran has operated its National Information Network, a parallel internet infrastructure designed to replace foreign services with domestically hosted alternatives. Messaging apps like WhatsApp and Telegram have been blocked for years; citizens are encouraged — or forced — to use domestic platforms like Bale and Soroush, both of which are subject to state monitoring.
The results have been mixed. VPN usage in Iran is among the highest in the world. Young Iranians routinely bypass the national firewall to access Instagram, WhatsApp, and Telegram. Yet the domestic apps persist, sustained by government mandates and the sheer friction of circumvention.
China’s WeChat model is the other template: a single, all‑encompassing super‑app that integrates communication, commerce, and civic life. WeChat is encrypted, but the encryption is controlled by the platform operator, which is legally required to cooperate with Chinese authorities.
MAX is an attempt to fuse both models: the mandatory adoption of Iran and the super‑app ambition of China, with none of the privacy protections of either.
For ordinary Russians, the WhatsApp block is not an abstraction.
Migrant workers who rely on WhatsApp to call families in Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, and Kyrgyzstan now face a choice: pay for VPN subscriptions, switch to Telegram (which is also under attack), or migrate to MAX — and accept that every message is readable.
Small business owners who built customer communication around WhatsApp lists must now rebuild. Grandparents who finally learned to send photos to grandchildren abroad are cut off.
Meta estimates that Russia was WhatsApp’s fourth‑largest market, with 72 million monthly active users. Only Indonesia, Brazil, and India are larger. The block affects not just those 72 million, but the millions more outside Russia who now cannot reach them.
WhatsApp’s statement emphasised safety: “Trying to isolate over 100 million people from private and secure communication is a backwards step and can only lead to less safety for people in Russia.”
It is also a geopolitical statement. In an era of globalised communication infrastructure, Russia is deliberately fragmenting the internet — building what analysts call a “digital Iron Curtain.”
Despite the finality of the block, Kremlin spokesperson Dmitry Peskov left a rhetorical crack open.
Speaking to state news agency TASS, Peskov said that WhatsApp could be unblocked — if Meta complies with Russian legislation and enters negotiations.
“If Meta complies with legislation and enters dialogue with Russian authorities, reaching an agreement is possible,” Peskov said. “If Meta maintains an uncompromising position, there is no chance of resolution.”
This is standard Kremlin negotiating posture: create a problem, then offer to solve it in exchange for concessions. What those concessions might be is not hard to guess. Russian authorities have long demanded that messaging platforms store Russian user data on servers physically located inside Russia, and that they provide law enforcement with decryption keys when requested.
For Meta, which has fought for years to defend end‑to‑end encryption as a core product principle, compliance would be a fundamental betrayal of its stated values. For Russia, that is exactly the point: force a choice between the Russian market and encryption, and demonstrate that even the largest American technology companies cannot resist sovereign pressure.
Russia’s WhatsApp block is the most aggressive move yet in a global pattern of state confrontation with end‑to‑end encryption.
India has repeatedly pressured WhatsApp to break encryption for traceability. The United Kingdom passed the Online Safety Act, granting regulators power to demand removal of encrypted content. The European Union has debated client‑side scanning proposals that would effectively neutralise private messaging.
Each country frames its demands differently: national security, child protection, counter‑terrorism. The underlying dynamic is the same. Encrypted communication platforms are, from the perspective of state authority, ungovernable spaces. And ungovernable spaces are, by definition, unacceptable.
Russia’s solution is not to regulate encryption — it is to eliminate it entirely by replacing the platform. MAX has no encryption to defend. There is nothing to break.
This is the authoritarian endgame of the encryption debate: not compromise, but substitution.
One of the few certainties following any Russian internet blockade is a surge in VPN usage.
Within hours of WhatsApp’s removal, Russian search queries for “VPN” and “WhatsApp access” spiked to multi‑year highs. Telegram channels dedicated to circumvention techniques gained tens of thousands of new subscribers.
Yet VPNs are not a perfect solution. They slow connections, drain batteries, and — increasingly — are themselves targeted by Russian authorities. Roskomnadzor maintains a constantly updated blacklist of VPN protocols and endpoints. Apple and Google have removed several popular VPN apps from their Russian App Store listings at the government’s request.
For the technically sophisticated, the arms race continues. For the average user, the barrier to entry rises.
Russia is not trying to eliminate foreign communication entirely. It is trying to raise the cost of using it high enough that the path of least resistance becomes MAX. This is the Iranian strategy, and it has succeeded in shifting millions of users to domestic platforms — even as VPN use remains endemic.
2018: First attempt to block Telegram fails; ban lifted after two years.
2024 (July): Voice calling restricted on WhatsApp and Telegram.
2025 (March): MAX officially launched by VK.
2025 (September): Law signed requiring MAX pre‑installation on all smartphones sold in Russia, effective Sept 2026.
2025 (December): WhatsApp slowed by 70–80%.
2026 (January): Telegram throttling intensified.
2026 (February 11): WhatsApp domain removed from Roskomnadzor registry; total block in effect.
2026 (September): MAX pre‑installation mandate takes full effect.
Russia’s messaging crackdown has implications beyond social apps.
Decentralised communication protocols — like Bitchat, Session, and others built on blockchain or mesh networks — have seen sporadic adoption spikes during previous internet disruptions. In December 2025, Ugandan opposition leader Bobi Wine urged supporters to download Bitchat ahead of anticipated election‑time shutdowns. Similar surges occurred in Madagascar, Nepal, and Indonesia during protests and communication blackouts.
These protocols are far from perfect. They are slower, harder to use, and less feature‑rich than mainstream apps. But they share a critical property: no central server to block.
Russia’s campaign against WhatsApp and Telegram may accelerate interest in these decentralised alternatives. It also underscores the long‑term value of privacy‑preserving, censorship‑resistant infrastructure — the very infrastructure that cryptocurrency networks have been building for over a decade.
For the crypto industry, this is not an abstract debate. The same technical properties that make Bitcoin resistant to seizure make decentralised messaging resistant to shutdown. The same cryptographic primitives that secure Ethereum transactions can secure private conversations.
Russia has demonstrated, yet again, that permissioned, centralised platforms are always vulnerable to state capture. The only durable defence is architecture.
Russia has successfully blocked WhatsApp. It has degraded Telegram. It has mandated MAX on every new smartphone. It has built the legal and technical apparatus to isolate its internet from the global network.
What it has not done is convince its citizens that this is progress.
The WhatsApp ban is not popular. The Telegram throttling is opposed even by pro‑Kremlin officials who depend on the app. MAX remains a platform people use because they must, not because they choose.
This is the paradox of digital sovereignty. A state can build walls, but it cannot compel enthusiasm. It can block apps, but it cannot prevent VPNs. It can mandate pre‑installation, but it cannot force engagement.
For now, 100 million Russians have lost access to the world’s most popular messaging app. Some will find workarounds. Some will reluctantly migrate to MAX. Some will simply communicate less.
The Kremlin has made its choice. The question is whether its citizens will accept it — or whether, as with Telegram in 2018, the technical ingenuity of users will outrun the reach of the state.
Meta, for its part, has not signalled any intention to negotiate. WhatsApp remains blocked. The door Peskov described is open, but no one is walking through it.
In the gap between state power and individual resistance, the future of the Russian internet is being decided.