In the shadowy world of Russian dissent, two names have once again surged to the forefront, each representing a distinct but converging thread of resistance to President Vladimir Putin’s rule. Alexander Gabyshev, a Siberian shaman whose spiritual protest march to Moscow became a national spectacle, and Mikhail Khodorkovsky, the exiled oligarch turned vocal Kremlin critic, have both found themselves in the crosshairs of Russian authorities—albeit by very different means. Their stories, unfolding across the vast expanse of Russia and beyond, paint a vivid portrait of the risks facing those who dare to challenge the Kremlin.
Gabyshev’s journey began in March 2019, when he set out on foot from his native Siberia, determined to traverse 8,000 kilometers to the heart of Moscow. His mission was audacious: to use traditional shamanic rites to “drive out the demon”—his words for President Putin—from the Kremlin. According to DW, Gabyshev’s pilgrimage quickly captured the imagination of many Russians disillusioned with the status quo, and his progress became a rallying point for those yearning for change.
But as Gabyshev’s profile grew, so too did the attention from authorities. He was arrested multiple times along his route, each time returning to his quest with even greater resolve. The Russian government, however, was not content to simply detain him. In January 2021, in a dramatic escalation, authorities stormed Gabyshev’s home and forcibly removed him to a psychiatric hospital. An expert appointed by the state classified him as mentally ill, a move that many saw as a chilling echo of Soviet-era tactics used to silence dissidents under the guise of medical care.
Amnesty International, for its part, has called Gabyshev a political prisoner, highlighting the growing use of psychiatric incarceration as a tool of repression. His lawyers continue to fight for his release, but as of October 2025, their efforts have yet to bear fruit. The case has become a lightning rod for debate about the boundaries of protest and the lengths to which the Russian state will go to suppress dissent.
Meanwhile, another drama is playing out on a very different stage. On Tuesday, October 14, 2025, Russia’s Federal Security Service (FSB) announced that it had opened a criminal case against Mikhail Khodorkovsky, the exiled former oil magnate and once Russia’s richest man. The FSB accused Khodorkovsky of creating a "terrorist organisation" and plotting to violently seize power, as reported by Reuters. The charges are linked to the activities of the Anti-War Committee, a group backed by Khodorkovsky that has openly opposed Russia’s war in Ukraine and is now banned within the country.
Khodorkovsky’s journey to this point has been nothing short of extraordinary. During the tumultuous 1990s, he rose to prominence as one of the so-called oligarchs who supported then-President Boris Yeltsin, amassing immense wealth and influence. However, as Vladimir Putin consolidated his grip on power in the early 2000s, Khodorkovsky fell out of favor. In a high-profile trial that many observers, including Western governments, described as politically motivated, he was convicted of fraud and sentenced to ten years in a Siberian prison.
After receiving a pardon in 2013, Khodorkovsky left Russia and began a new chapter as a vocal critic of Putin’s regime. He has since thrown his support behind a range of opposition groups and, since the outbreak of the Ukraine war in 2022, has positioned himself as a leading figure among Russian exiles supporting Kyiv. The Kremlin, for its part, wasted little time in designating him a “foreign agent,” a label that has become a badge of both infamy and honor among Russia’s embattled opposition.
The FSB’s latest accusations mark a significant escalation in the state’s campaign against Khodorkovsky. The agency alleges that the Anti-War Committee, which Khodorkovsky supports, is not merely a political group but a terrorist organization intent on violently overthrowing the government. There was no immediate comment from Khodorkovsky or his representatives, but the move has sent shockwaves through the Russian exile community and drawn sharp criticism from international observers.
It’s worth noting that the Russian government’s use of terrorism charges and psychiatric diagnoses as tools of political control is not without precedent. During the Soviet era, dissidents were frequently branded as mentally ill or accused of subversive activities, allowing the state to sideline them without the need for open political trials. In the modern era, these tactics have resurfaced with alarming regularity, targeting not only high-profile figures like Gabyshev and Khodorkovsky but also countless lesser-known activists, journalists, and ordinary citizens.
For those still inside Russia, the risks are painfully clear. Gabyshev’s ordeal, in particular, has struck a nerve with many Russians who see in his story a reflection of their own struggles against an unyielding system. As one supporter told DW, “He is fighting for all of us, for our right to speak and to dream.” The fact that Gabyshev remains confined in a psychiatric hospital, despite the efforts of his legal team and international advocacy groups, is a stark reminder of the limits of protest in today’s Russia.
Khodorkovsky, by contrast, operates from the relative safety of exile, but even there, the Kremlin’s reach is long. The new criminal case against him serves as a warning to other exiles that opposition—even from abroad—carries significant risks. The Anti-War Committee, which has called for an end to the conflict in Ukraine and greater freedoms at home, now finds itself at the center of a legal storm, its members facing the prospect of arrest should they return to Russia.
Both cases have prompted widespread international condemnation. Human rights organizations have decried the use of psychiatric detention and terrorism charges as tools of political repression, arguing that such measures undermine the basic rights of free speech and assembly. Western governments, too, have expressed concern, with several officials calling for the release of political prisoners and an end to the persecution of opposition figures.
Yet for the Kremlin, these tactics appear to be part of a broader strategy to consolidate power and silence dissent. By targeting both spiritual leaders like Gabyshev and wealthy exiles like Khodorkovsky, the government sends a clear message: no form of opposition, no matter how unconventional or well-funded, will be tolerated. It’s a message that resonates far beyond Russia’s borders, raising difficult questions about the future of dissent in a country where the costs of speaking out are higher than ever.
As the stories of Gabyshev and Khodorkovsky continue to unfold, they serve as powerful reminders of the resilience—and vulnerability—of those who challenge authority. Their fates, still uncertain, will undoubtedly shape the contours of Russian political life for years to come.
