Guest article by Zarina Zabrisky, Meidas Defense’s Kherson-based correspondent
“Hatred toward Myself”
Katya agrees to an interview online, with only a part of her face visible, covered by a hoodie and a COVID-style mask. The connection is weak and the camera is shaky. Katya is not her real name. She requested that her real name and location not be published, for security concerns. She could be anywhere in the Russian Federation. The dark room looks like a basement. Her friend behind the camera is guarding the door. If someone enters, they may be arrested.
Katya is a Russian partisan, but she shrugs and hesitates to call herself that, “Who needs labels now? We need action.”
Action in Putin’s Russia means lethal danger and extreme secrecy but Katya is convinced: Only active resistance could change the regime. And the regime must go, she and her friends believe.
Katya is one voice in a small but persistent anti-war underground that has emerged inside Russia since the invasion of Ukraine. Repeated incidents of rail damage, fires and other acts of sabotage are reported.
Katya was not always a Russian resistance fighter. She was not into politics and did not think much about the Russian war in Ukraine, or, as it was labeled “SVO” (“a special military operation”) Putin’s euphemism for the war of aggression the Russian Federation started on February 24, 2022. The war or SVO, it did not affect her, and, like most of her friends and relatives, she did not follow it closely.
“Somewhere on TV, there was some war happening to someone else,” she said. “I had my own life, ordinary daily stuff.”
That changed in 2022, as Putin’s government started a mobilization drive. Her boyfriend was sent to the front, to the “special military operation.” Next, he went missing in action. Later, a close friend was mobilized. The war entered her life. Instead of “getting married and having kids,” she faced emptiness.
“It was hard,” she said. “I felt pain, fear, hatred toward the system. Hatred toward this president.”
She hesitated.
“Hatred toward myself.”
And this was a paradigm shift for Katya. In order not to hate herself, she joined the resistance. Now, she fights Putin’s regime.
“I do not want to die for someone else’s interests,” she said. “Instead of building families, living our lives, raising children, we are expected to die for someone’s unclear interests that I do not share and do not support… the state treats its citizens as expendable material.”
The reports of Russian forces committing atrocities in Bucha in 2022 shook Katya. Western governments and international investigators have described them as war crimes. Moscow has denied responsibility for civilian killings in Bucha. She was mortified and angry.
“I am ashamed that my fellow citizens did these things,” she said.
From Protest to Sabotage
Katya is part of what she described as an informal anti-war underground inside Russia, a decentralized network rather than a political party. She did not name any organization or provide evidence of membership but said that the ultimate goal is to remove the current Russian regime.
Russia’s antiwar opposition underwent a major shift after the full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. If before the war, opposition politics focused on protest, elections, public speech, and symbolic dissent, after the invasion, many embraced sabotage, direct action, and anonymity. For the Kremlin, the challenge is not a single “partisan” or isolated act of sabotage but a growing number of people willing to take risks despite the threat of prison and torture.
“These are people who think clearly, who understand what is happening and understand that something must be done, rather than simply sitting and waiting for someone else to solve all our problems,” Katya said. “We will live well only when we take action ourselves, when we fight. Nothing will change otherwise; things will only get worse. We have no choice but to resist a regime that has turned people into deaf and mute fanatics who can no longer distinguish right from wrong. It feels as if that line has disappeared.”
Katya spoke of small groups seeking disruption of Russian military logistics by targeting railway infrastructure and electrical substations used in transport networks. Videos obtained included making homemade bombs and incendiary devices, sabotage and arson. Katya’s fellow fighters, masked and gloved, crawled and run in the dark, setting railway relay cabinets on fire and disconnecting wagons.
“This is not youthful rebellion. It is a conscious choice.”
The purpose of such actions is to interrupt Russian military logistics that rely heavily on rail transport. The resistance hopes that enough small acts can overwhelm an overstretched security system. Every damaged rail line or fire forces an inquiry and a repair. Each incident is isolated but together they create pressure on the system.
“We try anything to delay the delivery of weapons to Putin’s army, even for a single day,” she said.
Independent verification of specific claims of sabotage linked to underground groups is not possible. Russian authorities have reported repeated incidents of rail damage and fires since the start of the war in Ukraine and have prosecuted individuals accused of involvement.
Inside Russian resistance: Fear and surveillance
Katya described life under constant risk of surveillance and exposure. She said trust inside opposition networks is limited.
“You never know who might betray you,” she said.
Fear of infiltration shapes behavior.
“Today someone may be your friend,” she said. “Tomorrow they may inform on you.”
She said the consequences of exposure are severe, including long prison sentences and pressure on relatives. She described fear of arrest and interrogation.
In March 2026, 37 citizens of the Russian Federation were detained on the territory of the Russian regions for committing arson attacks on communications facilities, transport, fuel and energy infrastructure, as well as the credit and financial system and as state and private property, according to the FSB report, which is blaming the Ukrainian special services, for inciting these actions. Russian authorities use some of the country’s most severe national security statutes against alleged anti-war saboteurs, including Article 275 on treason, Article 281 on sabotage, and Article 205.3 on terrorist training, charges that can result in prison sentences ranging from 12 years to two decades.
“There is torture,” she said. “There is pressure on your family.”
Katya said the purpose of repression is the control of the Russian population.
“To make people afraid,” she said. “To make them stop resisting.”
At this point in the interview, a loud knocking interrupted the conversation, Katya appeared terrified and the call dropped.
“Nothing will change otherwise”
Ten minutes later, Katya was online, more nervous but determined to finish the interview. She explained that it appeared as if someone was trying to enter the room but that was a false alarm.
“I am afraid,” she said. “I am human. Of course, I am afraid.”
She paused and added, “But I follow the fear. Living in what feels like a concentration camp is more frightening.”
With a few more minutes of a conversation left, she said she believed Russia’s political system cannot change unless the people fought it. She said that the state tightened control over information since the start of the war, and especially lately. That action has caused more outrage in her and her friends.
“A government with nothing to hide would not behave like this,” she said.
Katya said she believes resistance will continue regardless of risk.
“The problem is Putin’s regime,” she said. “As long as it remains, nothing will change. It must go.”
The future of the resistance movement in Russia is yet to be defined but as the full-scale war enters its fifth year, the Kremlin faces pressure not just from Ukrainian drone strikes on the oil and gas depots but also from the dissent from within.
“There will be more of us,” Katya said.
Guest article by Zarina Zabrisky, Meidas Defense’s Kherson-based correspondent
