By admin 
At a petrol station in the southeastern outskirts of Moscow, Svyatoslav has been enduring a two-hour wait in his car, the digital sign board ahead now displaying a stark message: "No Fuel." "They say there will be petrol here," Svyatoslav tells me with a flicker of optimism, his voice tinged with weariness. "They just don’t know when. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow." When asked why he doesn’t simply drive off in search of another station, his reply is pragmatic: "I haven’t got enough in the tank to do that." Even if he possessed the fuel, a quick fix remains elusive for Svyatoslav and countless others. Across Moscow and indeed, in numerous other regions of Russia, serpentine queues have become a grim fixture of daily life this week, all for the dwindling supply of petrol.
The official explanation offered by Russian authorities points to "unscheduled repairs at oil refineries." However, these repairs are a direct consequence of Ukrainian drone strikes targeting Russian oil facilities. Such long-range attacks have previously ignited significant fuel shortages earlier in the summer, and the relentless targeting of refineries has now escalated the problem. The current queues in Moscow are noticeably longer than those witnessed previously, indicating that the authorities are struggling to effectively address the intricate challenges surrounding refining capacity and the complex logistics of fuel distribution. The prominent broadsheet, Nezavisimaya Gazeta, declared this week that "The second wave of the fuel crisis is building," a sentiment echoed in the streets and in the growing anxieties of ordinary citizens.
Navigating Moscow this week, two starkly contrasting images vie for attention: colossal billboards proclaiming patriotic messages for Russian Flag Day, and the equally imposing, endless queues of vehicles snaking away from petrol stations. Outside one particular Moscow petrol station, the line of waiting vehicles stretches to an astonishing 80 cars. The quest for fuel has transformed into a constant, frustrating struggle. Elizaveta, another driver enduring the wait, recounts her experience: "Last night I went to get petrol at 11 pm. By midnight I’d reached the front of the queue. Then they shut the petrol station until 2 am." Lyubov, who recently drove into Moscow from the provinces, paints an even bleaker picture: "It was empty petrol stations all the way." Her small brown dog, Agatha, peeking out from the car window, offers a silent, furry companion to Lyubov as she waits, stroking her pet to maintain a semblance of calm amidst the growing frustration.
When asked about her perspective on the fuel crisis, Lyubov articulates a sentiment shared by many: "Everyone says there is a difficult situation in the country. Everyone connects this to that situation." This "situation" undeniably refers to the ongoing conflict in Ukraine. Prior to Russia’s full-scale invasion in February 2022, drone attacks on Russian oil refineries, or indeed any infrastructure within Russia, were non-existent. These strikes, however, have not compelled the Kremlin to alter its course. Russia continues its military campaign, which it persistently refers to as a "special military operation."
In a striking development, Russia, a nation globally recognized as an energy superpower and a leading exporter of crude oil, has begun importing petrol to alleviate the burgeoning crisis. This move is extraordinary and underscores the severity of the domestic fuel shortage. To further mitigate the deficit, the government has also temporarily authorized the production and sale of lower-grade petrol, such as Euro 2. While faster to produce, Euro 2 petrol contains up to 50 times more sulfur than the modern Euro 5 standard and was banned in Russia in 2013 due to environmental and engine health concerns. The government newspaper, Rossiyskaya Gazeta, issued a stark warning: "For modern cars, regular use of lower-grade petrol can increase the pressure on the fuel injector, spark plugs, oxygen sensors, the catalytic converter and soot filter. Euro 2 won’t kill an engine on one re-fuelling. But it sharply reduces the margin of safety." This pragmatic but concerning measure highlights the desperate steps being taken to keep vehicles on the road.
The impact of the war has extended beyond fuel shortages, bringing the conflict closer to the daily lives of Russians in other ways. Ukrainian strikes on distribution centers of Wildberries, Russia’s equivalent of Amazon, have disrupted e-commerce operations, causing significant inconvenience for shoppers and considerable economic hardship for sellers. President Vladimir Putin himself has acknowledged the damage inflicted by these attacks, stating in a recent address that "attacks on industrial facilities and infrastructure do inflict damage; this is obvious. We understand this, we see it." However, he simultaneously downplayed the broader implications, asserting, "There are no critical consequences from such attacks. There have not been and cannot be." This rhetoric, aimed at projecting an image of control and resilience, appears increasingly at odds with the lived experiences of ordinary Russians.
Andrei Kolesnikov, a columnist for the independent news outlet Novaya Gazeta, offers a critical perspective on Putin’s pronouncements: "It is a disconnect between people’s feelings and the description of reality by Vladimir Putin, the description of his personal reality in his head. Maybe he’s trying to hypnotise himself that everything is okay." This sentiment is seemingly reflected in recent polling data. Surveys conducted within Russia, including those by the Public Opinion Foundation, indicate a rise in societal anxiety. This suggests that the Kremlin’s message of "keep calm and carry on" is failing to resonate with a populace increasingly grappling with tangible economic and security concerns.
"This permanent feeling of anxiety is with everyone right now. You feel that something is wrong. Anxiety is the main sentiment," Kolesnikov elaborates. "This regime doesn’t demonstrate any model of the future: the nearest future, a middle-term future, a long-term future. We are ‘great’ right now. What are the qualities of this greatness? The petrol crisis? In that sense, the future is aborted. People are trying not to think about the future. The horizon of planning is very short." This pervasive sense of uncertainty and lack of a clear future trajectory contributes to the growing unease.
A short drive from the petrol station where Svyatoslav was patiently waiting, another long queue is observed. However, this one is for candyfloss. Local authorities have organized stalls and a street concert to commemorate Russian Flag Day. While petrol may be in short supply, patriotism, it seems, is not. A singer belts out a patriotic tune: "It’s my country, my fate, my dream. I’m raising my flag. The flag of my country." The message is clear: despite hardships, national pride remains a potent force.
Adding to the atmosphere of militarized patriotism, alongside the candyfloss, are displays of weaponry. At one stall, children are being introduced to an array of military hardware, including hand-held rocket launchers. Youngsters eagerly pose with the weapons, a visual representation of the increasing militarization of Russian society. This display, juxtaposed with the festive atmosphere, aims to foster a sense of national strength and unity in the face of external pressures.
The patriotic presentation does appear to lift some spirits. "Difficulties unite us," Tatyana, a pensioner, tells me. "The harder things are, the stronger we get." Yet, the war remains a constant preoccupation, particularly the Ukrainian drone attacks on the Moscow region. Angelina voices a common fear: "When you go to sleep you don’t know if you’ll wake up in the morning. That’s the only problem. Everything else is fine." Another woman shares her experience: "The problems we have are high prices, petrol shortages and last night, for the first time, my windows shook… I heard ‘boom boom!’"
Her concluding remark encapsulates a widespread sentiment of resignation and a focus on personal resilience: "Right now, it’s important to take care of your psychological state, so that it’s strong and unbreakable. So that, whatever happens, you can say: ‘Oh well, never mind.’" These comments suggest a perceived lack of agency among Russians, a feeling that they can neither influence nor fully comprehend the events unfolding around them. The prevailing approach appears to be one of adaptation and personal coping mechanisms in the face of persistent uncertainty and disruption. The fuel crisis, the economic pressures, and the distant rumble of conflict are becoming the new normal, demanding a stoic acceptance of circumstances beyond their immediate control.
