Putin downplays Russia's 'Black August' as crises mount at home and abroad
For decades, Russians have talked about "Black August" — the idea that late summer brings calamity. It is a folk belief born of experience, not superstition. In 1991 came the putsch that doomed the Soviet Union; in 1998, financial collapse; in 1999, the invasion of Dagestan that launched Vladimir Putin's political career; in 2000, the Kursk submarine disaster; in 2008, war with Georgia.
Some call it Russia's answer to Britain's "silly season," when newspapers fill the late-summer lull with lighter stories. But Russian folklore is darker. A scan of history suggests that dramatic, black-swan events do have a habit of arriving as August draws to a close.
This year appears to be no exception. Russian troops have made only halting progress on contested front lines in Ukraine. Ukrainian strikes have darkened skies over Russian cities, hitting oil refineries and vast warehouse complexes, including those operated by the e-commerce giant Wildberries. Long lines at gas stations and renewed talk of mobilization have frayed nerves.
Putin, however, is projecting calm. On Wednesday, he acknowledged the attacks on logistics infrastructure but insisted they would have "no critical consequences." He promised to rebuild damaged facilities with state support. The message was clear: keep calm and carry on.
Not everyone is buying it. The exiled Russian commentator Ilya Varlamov captured the mood this week, noting that many Russians "await August with apprehension." He pointed to rising prices, a sliding ruble, the return of fuel shortages and an election season on the horizon. "The country is truly in crisis," he wrote.
Even pro-Kremlin media are showing signs of anxiety. The tabloid Moskovsky Komsomolets turned to astrology, warning that a lunar eclipse opposite Pluto could trigger "social shifts" and "domestic unrest." That is a remarkable admission from a newspaper that normally echoes the official line.
What makes this August different is the cumulative weight of the war. A top Russian economist, whose private remarks recently surfaced, warned that Moscow is losing the technological and economic race and cannot outlast a Ukraine backed by the West. Such talk would have been unthinkable a few years ago.
The contrast with Ukraine is stark. There, civil society remains active. The recently ousted defense minister, Mykhailo Fedorov, has called for wartime elections, presenting a fresh challenge to President Volodymyr Zelensky. For Putin, that is useful ammunition: he has long questioned Zelensky's legitimacy. But Ukraine's messy democratic debate is itself a sign of a functioning society.
Russia's political opposition, by contrast, has been all but erased. This week a court sentenced opposition politician Lev Shlosberg to 11 years in prison for opposing the war. His party, Yabloko, was barred from the ballot in upcoming parliamentary elections. The slow suffocation of dissent began long before the full-scale invasion, but it accelerated after Alexey Navalny's death in February 2024. Navalny himself was poisoned on an August day in 2020 — another entry on Russia's long list of August horrors.
Coincidence or not, August has rarely been kind to Russia. Putin may want to sweep this summer's troubles under the rug, but the pattern is hard to dismiss.