Pavel Durov: What the arrest of Telegram's CEO means for social media privacy

French President Emmanuel Macron has been accused of taking Durov hostage in a bid to gain access to private communications on Telegram

Alice Iuri

Pavel Durov: What the arrest of Telegram's CEO means for social media privacy

On 24 August, a private jet landed at a French airport. On board was a man in his later thirties known to possess a fortune which, according to Forbes magazine’s latest estimate, amounted to $15.5bn (£11.7bn). The man was promptly arrested by French police. Soon afterwards, the value of toncoin, the cryptocurrency he had created, plummeted by more than 15%.

President Emmanuel Macron, referring to the arrest, said that the country was “deeply committed to freedom of expression” but that “in a state governed by the rule of law, freedoms are upheld within a legal framework, both on social media and in real life.”

Obviously, this was about more than cryptocurrency. In fact, the authorities suspected the man on the private jet of indirect involvement in paedophilia, terrorism, money laundering, etcetera. So why the defensive tone in the president’s remarks?

It turns out that Macron has been known to enjoy more convivial engagements with the jet setter who had touched down at Bourget airport that day. He was even willing, in happier days, to furnish the Russian with a French passport. Crucially, the man taken into custody had more than a cryptocurrency in his resume. This was Pavel Durov, the head of Telegram.

Exiled US whistleblower Edward Snowden was duly incensed: “The arrest of Durov is an assault on the basic human rights of speech and association. I am surprised and deeply saddened that (French President) Emmanuel Macron has descended to the level of taking hostages as a means to gain access to private communications. It lowers not only France but the world,” he said.

Snowden became a naturalised Russian citizen in 2022. He accused Macron of seeking access to private communications on Telegram, many of which would have been made by Russian nationals like himself, some of them as part of the war effort.

AFP
Party supporters display paper planes as a reference to the logo of the instant messaging service company Telegram outside France's Embassy in central Moscow in support of Pavel Durov on August 25, 2024.

Pavel Durov was not a household name by the time of his arrest unless that household was within the territories of the former Soviet Union. Telegram itself was often cited when Yevgeny Prigozhin was busy plotting his aborted coup. Much later, in the context of the race riots in the UK over the summer, it was known to be favoured by rioters to coordinate their attacks on the hotels housing asylum seekers.

But it was only in relation to these sinister developments that the name Telegram was vaguely familiar to Western ears. Hard to believe, with all the attention that Elon Musk has received since his purchase of Twitter, that Telegram now threatens to outgrow X with over a billion users.

Condemnation from a competitor

As if to demonstrate that there is honour among tech billionaires, Musk has denounced the arrest of his competitor and even created a #FreePavel hashtag to support him. Unsurprisingly, he has also enlisted Durov in his free speech cause. Musk’s Russian counterpart is happy to call himself a libertarian and shares Silicon Valley’s fixation with absolute freedom of speech. That this concept runs into the kind of pitfalls any schoolboy could have predicted is an indication of just how unintelligent the tech bros’ fixations can be.

It’s debatable whether this is deliberate crassness on their part or an actual detachment from the reality we all inhabit. The fact that Musk so often betrays his own principle by withdrawing from the fight if he is attempting to curry favour with his adversary suggests that his constant protestations are, at best, disingenuous. So far, he has complied with 83% of the requests of authoritarian governments to remove content from X. It is simply cheaper to cave in. Ironically, among the 70% of staff members sacked by the great libertarian were some of the legal team, the very ones who used to push back against such requests.

But Musk and Durov have more in common than their insistence on the freedom to say whatever one likes. They also share eccentric tendencies. It would be hard not to notice Durov’s penchant for dressing in black, for example. This fashion choice owes its origin to Keanu Reeves and the actor’s black garb in The Matrix.

Steve Jennings/AFP
Pavel Durov, CEO and co-founder of Telegram, speaks onstage with moderator Mike Butcher during day one of TechCrunch Disrupt SF 2015 at Pier 70 on September 21, 2015, in San Francisco, California.

He is also, to the obvious delight of his detractors, a prolific donor of his own sperm. He claims to have fathered in this way more than a hundred children in 12 different countries. When asked why, he explained that it was to help destigmatise the topic, adding that he first donated sperm to help a friend struggling with infertility and that he planned to “open source” his DNA.

This improbable titbit gave one of the tech bros’ most combative critics, Carole Cadwalladr, a handy metaphor, which she then applied to Musk in her latest, deafeningly shrill denunciation of her bête noire. After describing the ‘civilisational battle for the truth’ the world was now witnessing, a battle she said Musk was winning – though not, perhaps, in Brazil – she complained that: "(Musk’s) truth is simply louder, faster, disseminating further. His algorithms are spreading his metaphorical seed, spawning an entire generation of mini-Musks and would-be Musks who dream of electric Cybertrucks."

The moral is: never waste a good, if slightly prurient, metaphor.

Along with siring multitudes, Durov claims to have sworn off alcohol, coffee and red meat. His self-help advice, dispensed on Instagram, also includes the view that people should lead a solitary existence. If this is true, then the French would be wasting their time placing the Telegram boss in solitary confinement. On the contrary, his idea of hell would be a morning spent nattering with old lags over coffee.

But beyond the foibles and the customary fixations of the tech elite, what is really striking is Durov’s lack of contact with planet Earth and his cosmopolitan lifestyle. For over a decade since his bust-up with Putin over the enforced sale of VKontakte (or VK), Durov’s answer to Facebook, he has been a man of no fixed abode. He grew so fond of exotic passports that he went on to acquire one for an archipelago in the Caribbean called St Kitts and Nevis. Later, he wooed the aforementioned president of France, who handed him a French passport to add to his collection.

The fact that his love of France and its language have been repaid so shabbily by the French is a lesson to all tech billionaires to stay aloof and, in particular, to avoid making contact with European soil. As we shall see, certain Russian ideologues have not been slow to ram this lesson home. For them, Durov is a perfect example of how dangerous it is for Russia’s talented sons to quit the Motherland.

My first reaction on hearing of Durov’s arrest was ‘another day, another scandal in Laputa’. For those unfamiliar with Jonathan Swift’s book Gulliver’s Travels, it describes an island that hovered above the surface of the earth and was inhabited by mathematicians who ruled the earthlings beneath but who paid scant attention to them, as they were far too intent on solving abstract mathematical problems.

Durov is a perfect example of how dangerous it is for Russia's talented sons to quit the Motherland

Childhood and formative years

It so happens that Durov is the classic Laputan. Along with his brother, he wowed Saint Petersburg in his youth with his prodigious mathematical talent. Born in 1984 in the Soviet Union, he moved with his family to northern Italy when he was four years old. His brother, Nikolai, was a maths whizz-kid who would later become Telegram's chief technology officer. As a child, Nikolai was featured on Italian television solving cubic equations.

In the early 1990s, after the Soviet Union collapsed, the Durov family returned to Saint Petersburg, where Pavel and Nikolai participated in youth maths competitions and coded on an IBM computer the family had brought back from Italy. But if mathematical skills alone were enough to qualify one as a citizen of Laputa, it is doubtful whether Rishi Sunak would ever have lived among us long enough to become prime minister and advocate compulsory Maths for 18-year-olds. The true Laputan has to display sublime indifference to the fate of mere earthlings.

When he first encountered Facebook, Pavel was inspired to create his own version for his post-Soviet compatriots. He might even have seen this as a service to his country. When the huge success of VKontakte coincided with demonstrations against Putin, the Russian authorities became nervous. They demanded that Durov hand over information regarding the protesters, and when he refused, they forced him to sell the company to a Putin ally. This was the origin of Telegram, a platform founded in 2013 and based outside Russia, which would be able to elude the curiosity of the state.  

How Telegram works

According to Alex Hern, tech editor at The Guardian, Telegram is out of step with industry norms on security. It is not end-to-end encrypted like WhatsApp or Signal. It does offer encrypted messaging, but only one-on-one, using its own 'slightly odd, home-brewed encryption standard.' Telegram can read your Telegram chats. It, therefore, 'has no excuse that it can't see'; it only has the excuse that it doesn't have the resources – enough moderators – to do it.

Telegram works as a messaging app, similar to WhatsApp or iMessage. But it also hosts groups with up to 200,000 users and has broadcasting features that help people and groups share views with even larger audiences. It introduced "channels" that allow moderators to disseminate information quickly to large numbers of followers, thus combining the reach and immediacy of a Twitter/X feed with the focus of an email newsletter. These features have made it a key platform for organising anti-Putin protests, according to Pjotr Sauer.

The combination of usability and privacy made the app popular with pro-democracy protesters around the world, from Hong Kong and Iran to Belarus and Russia. Nevertheless, concerns have been raised that Telegram maintains ties to the Russian government, which lifted its ban on the service in 2020.

Telegram has faced temporary or permanent bans in no less than 31 countries

Banned in over 30 countries

Telegram has faced temporary or permanent bans in no less than 31 countries, according to Surfshark, a maker of VPN software used to avoid internet blocks. It was in Russia, however, that the consequences of the ban were really felt. However, Telegram's popularity, notably among the military class and among officials of the Russian state, rendered the ban ineffectual.

It is in relation to the state that Durov's arrest and his personality seem to crystalise. His disdain for authority is well known. When VKontakte was accused of being a medium for pornography, he cheekily embraced the title of Porn King. Then, before leaving Russia after the VKontakte debacle, he resigned from VK with a typical flourish, posting a picture of dolphins and the slogan "So Long and Thanks for All the Fish", a title in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy science fiction series.

The New York Times reported how, on Instagram, Durov: '…has posted shirtless pictures of himself. Alongside one recent picture of him plunging into an ice bath, he quoted Marcus Aurelius: "A man must stand upright, not be kept upright by others." In another topless post, he participated in a game called the #PutinShirtlessChallenge, to mock the Russian leader's online posts of himself shirtless. "If you're Russian, you have to join #PutinShirtlessChallenge (or face oblivion). Two rules from Putin — no photoshop, no pumping. Otherwise, you're not an alpha."'

The article adds that his anti-government streak has been known to turn dark: 'In 2013, he hit a Russian policeman in a Mercedes in St. Petersburg; he was fleeing a traffic stop after driving on the sidewalk to get around a traffic jam, according to a former Telegram employee and a Kremlin intelligence briefing viewed by The New York Times. Mr. Durov later wrote on his VKontakte page at the time: "When you run over a policeman, it is important to drive back and forth so all the pulp comes out," according to the briefing document.'

He has a flamboyant side, too: "In a 2012 incident, Mr. Durov and other VKontakte employees threw hundreds of rubles folded up as paper planes from the window of the company's St. Petersburg offices (at Nevsky Prospekt_, resulting in a street brawl below'."

This unpredictability and tendency for playing the loose cannon led Meduza (the Russian- and English-language independent news website, headquartered in Riga) to speculate that the situation in France 'could take an alarming turn for the Kremlin if Durov (…) decides to cooperate with French law enforcement.'

That said, Russian military officials claim the army is prepared for a possible Telegram block. Alexey Zhuravlev, the first deputy chairman of the State Duma's Defence Committee, has said the military has "sufficient communication resources" to "not be too concerned" about Telegram. "I'm confident that if it becomes impossible to use the messenger, a substitute will quickly be found. Russian soldiers are resourceful and inventive, as they've proven on the battlefield. This will not impact military operations, and I'm sure the coordination of Russian troops will continue as usual."

Durov wanted to be a brilliant 'citizen of the world,' living well without a homeland… He miscalculated.

Former Russian President Dmitry Medvedev

Russian reaction

Good patriotic stuff. Yet, the reactions to the arrest in Russia have been studied in terms of their ambivalence. Perhaps the most typical response has come from former Russian President Dmitry Medvedev, posted on Telegram: "(Durov) believed that his biggest problems were in Russia, so he left, eventually obtaining citizenship or residency in other countries. He wanted to be a brilliant 'citizen of the world,' living well without a homeland… He miscalculated. To all our common enemies now, he is Russian — and therefore unpredictable and dangerous. Of different blood… Durov needs to finally understand that one does not choose their homeland, just as one does not choose the times they live in."

A source close to the leadership of Russia's ruling party, United Russia, said they even saw a positive side to the situation. "It's now clear that we're not the only ones: totalitarian tendencies are a global trend. If they can do this even in France, it means that authorities elsewhere can certainly tighten the screws as well," said a source from the leadership of a Kremlin-affiliated organisation.

At the same time, he said, the authorities don't expect any significant reaction to Durov's arrest from Russian society: "Telegram is still functioning; there are no blocks. And as for Durov himself, he's not a national hero; he's more of a figure from the gossip pages. In general, nobody will care much about his personal problems."

This airy indifference was in sharp contrast to the reaction, also posted on Telegram, of the Deputy State Duma Speaker, Vladislav Davankov, who insisted, "He needs to be rescued now… His arrest may have political motives and could be a tool to gain access to the personal information of Telegram users. This must not be allowed."

The obvious ambivalence – this indecision whether to leave a troublesome irritant with cosmopolitan attitudes to his fate or else come to his defence against the hypocritical West – may help explain a photograph from the first of May 2018.

Olga Maltseva / AFP
Demonstrators with an icon-stylised painting depicting Telegram's founder Pavel Durov protest against the blocking of the popular messaging app in Russia during a May Day rally in Saint Petersburg on May 1, 2018.

Taken in Saint Petersburg, it shows a demonstration in support of Durov. An angry figure at the front of the crowd carries a placard that resembles an ancient Russian icon, but in place of the saint's head is that of Durov, looking suitably sanctimonious. In his hand, like Leonardo's Christ, he carries an orb with the Telegram symbol in blue and white: a paper plane.

One wonders how the average Russian would read this depiction. More specifically, would members of the Russian religious establishment, stalwart defenders of the war and of Putin's conservative vision for Russia, condemn it as blasphemy?

And if so, why was the demonstrator – like his hero – allowed to get away with it?    

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