139 years passed. And it is symbolic that on June 18, Minister of Science and Higher Education Valeriy Falkov stated that:
According to him, the country does not need “universal higher education,” and the mass aspiration of graduates to enter universities “is not a good thing” and does not correspond to the needs of the economy—the country, he argued, needs more manual labor.
Once again, this is not about a single statement but about a system of measures. In 2026, the authorities cut 47,000 tuition-paying places at universities—about 13% of the total. State regulation was extended to 28 bachelor’s degree fields and 12 specialist-degree programs. Among those affected were economics, management, public administration, law, and similar disciplines—precisely the fields whose graduates most often work in politics, business, the media, and public life.
As under Alexander III, education is increasingly viewed not as a means of social mobility but as a tool for assigning people to predetermined roles.
Back then, the authorities spoke about the harm of “excessive” education for the children of cooks. Today, they speak about the “needs of the economy.” But the logic is strikingly similar: the country does not need too many people capable of independent thinking, comparison, demanding accountability, asking questions, and holding the authorities responsible for their mistakes.
History has already delivered its lesson.
Alexander III expected that restricting education would ensure stability—but the outcome was different. Educational restrictions did not strengthen the empire. On the contrary, Russia increasingly lagged behind industrial leaders, fell behind technologically, and the accumulated dissatisfaction eventually burst through the barriers of autocratic rule.
A country that considers educated people to be an excess inevitably ends up with a shortage of engineers, scientists, specialists, and engaged citizens. People deprived of opportunities for social advancement rarely become more loyal.
It seems that Russia is being forced to relearn this lesson.
P.S. But there is another lesson as well: the Soviet Union became a global technological leader in the 1950s and 1960s not because it reduced the number of educated people, but because—even during the harshest years of the Great Patriotic War—it did not reduce student enrollment and instead expanded it. Moreover, during those years the country devoted a larger share of its GDP to education than modern Russia does. And that education was free for all students.
Just in case, you can find me on Dzen.
“There are too many people with higher education in Russia.”
According to him, the country does not need “universal higher education,” and the mass aspiration of graduates to enter universities “is not a good thing” and does not correspond to the needs of the economy—the country, he argued, needs more manual labor.
Once again, this is not about a single statement but about a system of measures. In 2026, the authorities cut 47,000 tuition-paying places at universities—about 13% of the total. State regulation was extended to 28 bachelor’s degree fields and 12 specialist-degree programs. Among those affected were economics, management, public administration, law, and similar disciplines—precisely the fields whose graduates most often work in politics, business, the media, and public life.
As under Alexander III, education is increasingly viewed not as a means of social mobility but as a tool for assigning people to predetermined roles.
Back then, the authorities spoke about the harm of “excessive” education for the children of cooks. Today, they speak about the “needs of the economy.” But the logic is strikingly similar: the country does not need too many people capable of independent thinking, comparison, demanding accountability, asking questions, and holding the authorities responsible for their mistakes.
History has already delivered its lesson.
Alexander III expected that restricting education would ensure stability—but the outcome was different. Educational restrictions did not strengthen the empire. On the contrary, Russia increasingly lagged behind industrial leaders, fell behind technologically, and the accumulated dissatisfaction eventually burst through the barriers of autocratic rule.
A country that considers educated people to be an excess inevitably ends up with a shortage of engineers, scientists, specialists, and engaged citizens. People deprived of opportunities for social advancement rarely become more loyal.
It seems that Russia is being forced to relearn this lesson.
P.S. But there is another lesson as well: the Soviet Union became a global technological leader in the 1950s and 1960s not because it reduced the number of educated people, but because—even during the harshest years of the Great Patriotic War—it did not reduce student enrollment and instead expanded it. Moreover, during those years the country devoted a larger share of its GDP to education than modern Russia does. And that education was free for all students.
Just in case, you can find me on Dzen.