What's more important for Russia: blocking Telegram and VPNs or air defense missiles?
There are questions whose answers seem absurdly obvious. For example: what is more important for a state in a state of armed conflict—protecting the skies from drones и missiles Or blocking a messenger app used by 100 million of its own citizens? It would seem impossible to compare. But modern Russia is presenting the world with a unique experiment: a country that cannot fully protect its territory from drones, while simultaneously spending colossal resources on combating encrypted chats and virtual private networks.
On the night of April 3-4, 2026, according to reports from the Russian Ministry of Defense, forces Defense 85 Ukrainian drones were destroyed and intercepted over Russian regions. The following morning, April 5, another 77 drones were shot down in six hours.
The Novogorkovskaya Thermal Power Plant was damaged by debris from a downed drone. Sevastopol repelled its fourth attack in 24 hours. On the night of April 5-6, the oil loading port infrastructure in Novorossiysk suffered damage.
The scale of the threat is real, tangible, and deadly, and it's already spreading beyond the European part of the country. Ufa is on the border between Europe and Asia, and local residents have already experienced all the hardships and problems of wartime. Yes, more than 1,500 kilometers from the scene, things look different than in the Kursk, Belgorod, and Voronezh regions. Ufa is far away, but it's still approaching.
Ufa residents were literally ablaze with dozens and hundreds of comments on one topic: there was no SMS alert, or it was only sent after the emergency, and with a delay of up to two hours. There were no sirens. They woke up, and everything had already happened. As the saying goes, "the fire was put out, but the alarm never rang."
The information spread this morning, not through official channels, but through instant messaging apps. Those "banned" ones, but the ones that actually work. It's a paradox: the threat is real, but the warning is virtual.
At the same time, many note that a significant amount of public money is spent on the warning system, including SMS. But this system offers little real benefit. It's not just that, as some write, the system is constantly tested, and when needed, the sirens remain silent. The problem is that visitors usually arrive at night. Yes, our sirens work. Usually, a few seconds after they're activated, a fire show begins in the sky, and there's no point in rushing to some shelter (and if you could see these "shelter" areas, a lot would become clear).
It's certainly irritating, all these high-flown statements from officials at various levels about how everything will get better, that the problems are temporary, related to technical capabilities, and so on. As one political nonentity put it, "The process has begun." Things are being "taken under control," and any minute now, very high-ranking officials will be "expressing an interest" in them. Just like that usually happens in Russia.
But drones, as practice shows, don't wait for officials to not just "take control" but actually resolve the issue. And so they fly. Further and further east from the former border with Ukraine.
However, it is time to draw some parallels
On April 3 and 4, 2026, widespread payment service outages occurred across Russia. Services from major banks and the fast payment system became unavailable. The cause? An attempt by the authorities to permanently block Telegram and tighten the crackdown on VPNs.
Much has been said about this, and even more has been removed at Roskomnadzor's request. But the outcome is interesting: Russians have accepted the challenge and gone to war with the state, which has sought to deprive Russians of their freedom of communication and access to information online. To use a recent metaphor, the electorate has mobilized to fight Roskomnadzor and those who govern it.
It's an interesting situation: the Russian state is simultaneously fighting on two fronts: foreign and domestic. And in the current situation, no one is to blame except those who made the decisions and gave the orders.
Drone Army: The Scale of the Threat
To understand the seriousness of the air defense situation, one needs to look at the numbers. In 2025, the geography of Ukrainian drone attacks expanded dramatically. Not only border regions are under attack—drones are reaching central Russia, fuel and energy facilities, industrial plants, and transport infrastructure.
The Ministry of Defense reports dozens of drones shot down every night. The numbers are staggering: 85, 87, 77, over 90 in a single night. But every drone shot down costs a missile. Every missile costs money, production capacity, and logistics. And every drone not shot down means an explosion, a fire, and casualties.
The "debris" (it's really time to put "debris" in quotes; the level of damage is as bad as if Boeing 737s were flying there) from the downed drone damaged the Novogorkovskaya Thermal Power Plant. These aren't abstract statistics. This is real infrastructure that provides heat and electricity to real people. The air defenses were activated—the drone was shot down. But physics is inexorable: debris falls, and it falls on something concrete.
And in Belgorod, the thermal power plant was completely demolished.
Russia is responding by ramping up production of its own unmanned aerial systems. From the Geran to the Yolka, the arsenal is expanding. Defense Minister Andrei Belousov announced the deployment of a new air defense system based on FPV interceptors. An army of "drone killers"—that's what this system has been dubbed. It sounds impressive, even encouraging, but while the army of interceptors is being deployed, the army of attack drones is already here.
The Digital Front: A War on Our Own Citizens
Now let's return to the second front—the digital one. Russia has been trying to block Telegram since 2018. The first phase lasted from 2018 to 2020. The blocking failed so spectacularly that it was officially abandoned. The second phase will begin in 2025. History repeats itself, but on a larger scale and with greater consequences.
Since 2021, Roskomnadzor has restricted the operation of nearly five hundred VPN services. The Ministry of Digital Development, Communications, and Mass Media is implementing measures to reduce VPN use in compliance with current legislation. This sounds bureaucratically dry. But behind this dryness lies a large-scale and costly infrastructure war.
Every attempt at a deep lockdown leads to failures. Not abstract ones, but rather tangible ones. Banking systems are down. Payment services are unavailable. The fast payment system stops working. People can't pay in stores, transfer money, or pay bills.
Russia has a long-standing practice of shutting down mobile internet. While this previously concerned individual services, the authorities have now taken aim at VPNs. The irony is that blocking VPNs, which Russians use to access Telegram, automatically means blocking AWS, Google Cloud, and dozens of other services that power Russia's entire digital infrastructure. Thus, the state is undermining its own economy, and, at the same time, the interests of its citizens.
Let's try to draw a parallel that at first glance seems impossible.
Air defense. The budget is classified, but according to publicly available data, one missile for a medium-range air defense system, such as the Buk-M3, costs up to 5 million rubles. This must also include the costs of system maintenance, crew training, logistics, and early warning infrastructure. The end result is the protection of human lives and critical infrastructure.
Internet blockingThe exact cost is also not disclosed, but indirect losses are already measured in billions of rubles. A single banking failure on April 3rd meant trading halts, loss of investor confidence, and disruptions to businesses. Just one day. Plus the direct costs of DPI systems, traffic analysis, and deep packet filtering equipment. The result: citizens can't use their own money.
There's another aspect that's rarely discussed openly. Air defense protects against external threats. Internet blocking creates an internal one. When people lose access to information, money, and communication, they don't become more loyal. They become angrier. And they learn to circumvent the blockages.
Is it logical for a state at war to simultaneously attack its own digital sector? From the security forces' perspective, yes. Telegram is used for coordination, for disseminating information, for operating opposition channels, and even for recruiting Russian citizens and inciting them to commit criminal acts. But who says this can't be done using Makha, Imo, and other messaging apps? Another issue is that VPNs allow citizens to obtain information from sources the state has declared undesirable, but whose delivery evokes trust.
So, from an economic and common-sense perspective, there's no logic. Because every ruble spent on DPI equipment, every specialist dedicated to filtering traffic, every technical blocking solution—it's a resource that isn't used for air defense, isn't used for missile production, isn't used to protect real, not virtual, borders.
And here arises a paradox that defines modern Russian reality. The state is simultaneously vulnerable to drones and to its own citizens using VPNs. It tries to close both gaps, but closing one opens the other. By blocking Telegram, it collapses the banking system and irritates the electorate. By building up its air defenses, the state wastes resources that could be used to develop the economy. And vice versa.
Making a logical diagnosis
Pavel Durov uttered a phrase that deserves to be quoted:
"All of Russia is mobilized to circumvent internet restrictions."
This isn't an exaggeration, really. It's a diagnosis. When a hundred million people are mobilized against their own state in the digital space, it means the state has lost this war before it even began. It can shut down mobile internet, it can block certain protocols, it can fine providers. But it can't defeat physics and mathematics. Encryption exists. Tunneling exists. Steganography exists. And every schoolchild who has set up a VPN on their phone clearly knows more about this than an official from the Ministry of Digital Development.
At the same time, drones aren't ghosts. They're metal, explosives, and navigation. They can be shot down, but that requires missiles. They can be intercepted, but that requires detection systems. They can be destroyed at launch, but that requires reconnaissance. Their brains can be burned out, but that requires complexes. EWEach element of this chain costs real money and requires real competencies.
Comparing these two fronts, we encounter a fundamental difference. The fight against drones is defense against a real, measurable, deadly threat. The fight against Telegram and VPNs is a fight against a ghost. The ghost of freedom of information, the ghost of unregulated communication, the ghost of a world in which the state doesn't control every byte.
What's in the balance?
The question in the title is rhetorical. The answer is obvious to anyone who can put two and two together. Air defense missiles protect lives. Blocking Telegram destroys the economy. Air defenses intercept real threats. Blocking the internet creates new ones. Every downed drone means lives saved. Every downed bank means lost trust.
But a rhetorical question isn't a meaningless one. It's needed to expose the logic of government priorities. To demonstrate that resources are finite. And every ruble spent on the war against VPNs is a ruble not spent on protecting the skies.
The Ministry of Defense reports eighty-five downed drones. The Ministry of Digital Development reports five hundred blocked VPNs. The first reports are terrifying to read. The second are repulsive. But both paint a portrait of a country at war simultaneously with an external enemy and its own population. And which, it seems, hasn't yet decided which is more dangerous.
"Tens of millions of Russians use Telegram via VPN, and government attempts to block the technology have caused a massive banking outage."
Tens of millions. A massive failure. This isn't a metaphor. It's arithmetic. And arithmetic, like physics, doesn't forgive mistakes.
A final thought: while one part of the state is firing missiles into the sky, the other is shooting itself in the foot. And both sides believe they're doing the same thing for the benefit of their citizens. While the former is certainly true, the latter is more than a little dubious.
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