Narrator: In March 2008, a young man named Seryozha flew from Kiev to Moscow for a single purpose: to vote in the presidential election. After a frustrating encounter with police in the Metro over a simple act of kindness, he arrived at the polling station. On the ballot, alongside the handpicked successor Dmitry Medvedev, was a sham candidate, a man so absurdly out of place that his presence felt like a mockery of the entire process. Seryozha took his ballot, left it blank, and dropped it into the box. He had participated, fulfilling his civic duty, but in doing so, he had become a co-conspirator in a performance of democracy. This single, surreal act captures the essence of a nation caught in a historical loop, a place where the past isn't just prologue—it's a recurring nightmare.

This is the world Masha Gessen dissects in the searing and essential book, The Future Is History: How Totalitarianism Reclaimed Russia. Gessen argues that to understand modern Russia, one must first understand how a country, after a brief and chaotic taste of freedom, could be condemned to repeat the horrors of its past.

Narrator: The Soviet Union did more than just control bodies and borders; it engineered a specific type of person. Sociologist Yuri Levada gave this creation a name: Homo Sovieticus, or Soviet Man. This was an individual shaped by decades of totalitarian rule, characterized by self-isolation, a deep dependence on the state, and a remarkable capacity for "doublethink"—the ability to hold contradictory beliefs simultaneously. For example, a person could genuinely believe in the ideals of Communism while simultaneously engaging in the black market to survive.

When the USSR collapsed, many believed Homo Sovieticus would simply fade away. Levada's own research in the late 1980s seemed to confirm this, suggesting these traits were concentrated in older generations. But Gessen shows this was a tragic miscalculation. The Soviet regime had systematically dismantled the tools a society uses to understand itself. It suppressed psychology, sociology, and philosophy, leaving an intellectual and emotional void. As psychoanalyst Marina Arutyunyan discovered when she began her studies, the human psyche was considered irrelevant; all that mattered was one's function within the collective. This left generations of Russians without the language or framework to process the trauma of their own history, making them vulnerable to simplistic narratives and strong leaders who promised to fill that void.

Narrator: The 1990s in Russia were not a clean transition to democracy but a period of profound national trauma. The "shock therapy" economic reforms, led by Yegor Gaidar, were a desperate attempt to avert famine and total collapse. By lifting price controls, the government unleashed hyperinflation that vaporized the life savings of millions overnight. While goods appeared on shelves, they were unaffordable for most. This economic chaos was mirrored by political crisis.

The conflict culminated in October 1993, when President Boris Yeltsin, locked in a power struggle with the old Soviet-era parliament, ordered tanks to fire on the Russian White House, the seat of parliament. For many Russians, the sight of their own government shelling its legislature was a profound shock. The violence and instability of the 1990s created a deep-seated disillusionment with democracy itself. In the public memory, the hope of 1991 and the violence of 1993 became conflated into a single, chaotic failure. This created a powerful yearning for order and stability, no matter the cost, setting the stage for a leader who would promise to end the turmoil.

Narrator: Vladimir Putin rose to power on the promise of restoring stability and national pride. Gessen argues that the regime he built was not a simple regression to the Soviet past but a new, mutated form of totalitarianism. It operates not through mass terror, but through the memory of it, and by creating a state of permanent, low-grade crisis. The system relies on what Gessen calls "pseudototalitarianism," which maintains control by creating the illusion of choice while ensuring a predetermined outcome.

This is powerfully illustrated by the state's manipulation of social issues. As the regime faced growing discontent, it manufactured moral panics to distract and unify the public. The government launched a vicious campaign against LGBTQ+ individuals, framing them as a threat to traditional Russian values. This culminated in the passage of the infamous "gay propaganda" law. The state-sponsored homophobia had deadly consequences, as seen in the brutal 2013 murder of Vlad Tornovoy, a young man killed by his friends because he was gay. By constructing internal and external enemies—from gay people to the West—the regime fostered a siege mentality, justifying its crackdown on all forms of dissent.

Narrator: The title of the book, The Future Is History, points to the regime's most powerful tool: the complete control and weaponization of the past. Under Putin, history is not a subject to be studied and debated, but a sacred text to be revered and deployed. The state has actively promoted a sanitized version of the Soviet era, celebrating its victories, like the defeat of Nazism, while erasing the memory of its crimes, like the Gulag.

This process reached its apex with the 2014 annexation of Crimea. The act was justified not by international law, but by a distorted appeal to history and the idea of a "Russian World." Putin declared that Russia was protecting its national interests and would no longer retreat. This narrative was overwhelmingly popular, with polls showing nearly 90% support. Thinkers like Alexander Dugin, once a fringe intellectual exploring esoteric fascism, were brought into the mainstream, providing an ideological justification for a new Russian empire. By declaring that the past dictates the future, the regime effectively closed off any possibility of a different path forward.

Narrator: The final part of Gessen's narrative chronicles the inevitable result of this reclaimed totalitarianism: the systematic crushing of opposition. The mass protests of 2011-2012, sparked by fraudulent elections, represented the last major challenge to the regime. For a moment, it seemed as though civil society had awakened. But the state's response was swift and decisive.

New laws imposed crippling fines for unsanctioned protests, activists were arrested and given harsh prison sentences in show trials, and a climate of fear descended. The assassination of opposition leader Boris Nemtsov in 2015, just steps from the Kremlin, was the ultimate message: there are no red lines. For the characters Gessen follows—like Masha, the activist, and Lyosha, the gay academic—the space for a life of freedom and dignity shrinks until it disappears entirely. They are forced into exile, silence, or a life of constant struggle against a state that views their very existence as a threat. The cycle of "abortive modernization"—a brief societal awakening followed by a brutal crackdown—had completed itself once more.

Narrator: The single most important takeaway from The Future Is History is that a society that fails to fully confront, understand, and mourn its totalitarian past is doomed to recreate it. Gessen shows that Russia's tragedy was not just the return of authoritarianism, but the loss of the very intellectual and psychological tools needed to recognize what was happening. The future became a closed loop, endlessly circling back to a history that was never properly laid to rest.

The book leaves us with a chilling and universal challenge. It forces us to ask how any nation can build a free and open future without first having an honest and painful reckoning with the darkest chapters of its past. To ignore history, Gessen warns, is not just to risk repeating it, but to allow it to become the only future you have.