Roblox Ban in Russia and the Illusion of Censorship in the Digital Age

Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov (photo: x @thespystories)

JAKARTA - Russia's ban on Roblox sounds like a serious policy, but the effect is closer to absurd comedy. The country that aspires to control the 21st century internet is stuck in 20th century logic: close one door, hoping everyone stops walking. Russian children proved that assumption wrong, even before the dust of the sensor settled.

Roblox is not just a game. It is a social space, where children build worlds, interact, and learn digital logic early on. There are risks, ranging from exploitation to infiltration by bad actors. That's why child safety issues are a global topic, not a Russian monopoly. The difference is that other countries respond with regulation and supervision. Moscow chose a sledgehammer.

Public reaction showed naked irony. Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov admitted that many children wrote directly to the president to complain. A day later, Yekaterina Mizulina of the Safe Internet League appeared as a makeshift hero, claiming that tens of thousands of letters had come in. Even the developer of Roblox stated that he was ready to adapt to local laws. The state closed the door, the platform opened a dialogue. The contrast was sharp.

Russia's "sovereign internet" campaign actually threatens the older generation more than children. Efforts to concentrate digital traffic and force the use of official messaging apps such as Max actually burden residents over the age of 50, who often have trouble adapting.

They then pressure the surrounding environment to adapt, including children who are asked to give in for the sake of their parents' comfort. At this point, the sensor changes from a tool of power to a source of family friction.

For the younger generation, the sensor is just a technical obstacle. The younger the internet user, the faster he finds a detour. VPNs, mirror apps, or alternative platforms are not black magic, but basic literacy. The state can close an app, but it can't turn off the instinct for digital exploration. Kids won't switch to bingo; they'll switch to solutions.

The root of the problem is long. Since the late 2000s, Russia has built a wider and wider legal framework for censorship, from the establishment of Roskomnadzor to blocking without court rulings. Democracy rhetoric is still used, but the content is empty.

The result is a shrinking public sphere, with both outward compliance and silent resistance. The 2018 attempt to block Telegram is a classic example: a total failure, while accelerating the adoption of the app.

Now, the Alpha generation is following Gen Z. For them, the online world is as real as the schoolyard. When bureaucrats in dull jackets say censorship is for "their own good", the response is not fear, but skepticism. They see contradictions between claims of protection and practices of restriction.

Roblox's ban doesn't make Russia seem strong. It makes the country look awkward, chasing shadows on a digital wall. In the midst of a much more serious war and crisis, this kind of policy is no longer funny.

One thing is clear: states can dominate physical territory, but the digital world is not entirely submissive. It is precisely children, who are often underestimated, who show the limits of that power most clearly.