Author: Yan Krivonosov

Imagine this: in 2020, an employee of a large IT company convinces his mom to invest money in shares of their homegrown VK, at 2,000 rubles per share. Instead of the promised “reliable investment,” after a few years you see a minus 90% on the screen and a price of around 194 rubles. A sad story, but sadly not a one-off. Right now, we’re being told: cryptocurrency is high-risk, investing in it is dangerous, and they want to limit purchases to 300,000 rubles per year. But let’s face the truth: what happens to the “safe” shares of Russian giants, and where does people’s money really go?

Let’s start with a story that I think many people are familiar with. In 2020, a VK employee, possibly sincerely believing in the future of his company, convinced a close person that shares at 2,000 rubles were a good investment. Several years passed, and what do we see? In 2022, VK shares lost almost 15% in a single day, and then kept falling. Those who believed in the stability of the giant lost 90% of their capital. And this isn’t some “scam coin” from a crypto exchange—it’s a major Russian IT company. Where are the risk warnings? Where is the protection promised by the state?

But VK is only one example. Let’s look at Gazprom—the company that not long ago was the most expensive in Russia. In the spring of 2008, Gazprom shares reached an all-time high—around 369.5 rubles per share. At that time, the company’s capitalization was valued at 380 billion dollars, and the media described real frenzy: people stood in line at brokers, buying up shares with their last savings. And here’s what we see now. In December 2024, Gazprom shares for the first time in almost 16 years dropped to 105.49 rubles. And in June 2026, they hit a minimum not seen since 2008, falling to 97.63 rubles. A fall from the all-time peak—almost 74%. Imagine: someone invested 1 million rubles at the peak in 2008; today they would have about 260 thousand left. Losses: 740 thousand rubles. And if they invested 10 million? The losses would be 7.4 million. These aren’t hypothetical figures—this is how real people lost money.

In 2021, amid a gas boom, Gazprom shares rose again above 360 rubles, and many once more believed in a return to record highs. But in 2022, a collapse began. In 2023, the company recorded net losses of 629 billion rubles—for the first time since 1999—and stopped paying dividends. Sanctions, the stoppage of transit through Ukraine, and the destruction of the “Nord Streams”—European exports, the basis of super-profits—fell from 150–180 billion cubic meters to catastrophic 18 billion. The company’s market capitalization, which not long ago was number one in Russia, shrank to 2.7 trillion rubles, even falling below Sberbank and Rosneft. Investors who bought shares at 360 rubles in 2021 now see a price of about 100 rubles on the screen. Minus 72%. And this isn’t some dubious cryptocurrency—it’s a systemically important company the country’s economy depends on.

What about other giants? In 2022, Sberbank plunged 21.96% in a single day. In April 2025, when panic swept the market, the MOEX index fell 8% over the week, and the market capitalization of the Moscow Exchange’s stock market dropped by 2 trillion rubles. For just one broker, the number of margin calls came close to 3.5 billion rubles—its highest value in the past two years. People aren’t just losing money—they’re forcibly liquidated when the market falls, and they’re left with nothing.

So where does the money go? After all, people invested real rubles, bought shares, and now their accounts are empty. A company’s market capitalization isn’t real money sitting in a stash—it’s the total price of all its shares multiplied by their number. When the price drops, that sum just disappears, like air out of a balloon. This is called the “wealth effect”—capitalization exists only on paper, as long as someone is willing to buy at that price. When panic hits and everyone wants to sell but there are no buyers, the price falls and the “paper wealth” evaporates. Some of the money, meanwhile, really does go to those who know how to profit from declines—by opening short positions, selling shares borrowed from a broker, and then buying them back cheaper later.

This is a short squeeze, and professionals profit from it while ordinary investors take losses.

And here we come to the main contradiction. We’re told: cryptocurrency is too risky, so for “non-qualified” investors they want to introduce a purchase limit of up to 300,000 rubles per year. Supposedly, that’s protection against losses. But at the same time, we can buy dollars without any limits, shares of Russian companies—without limits, and bonds—without limits. And it’s precisely these that bring us losses of 70, 80, and even 90%. The regulator’s logic is stumbling: why is bitcoin, which grew thousands of times over 10 years, considered dangerous, while Gazprom shares—which fell 74% from their peak—are not? Moreover, research shows that bitcoin can serve as a tool for diversifying risk, especially during crises when traditional assets fall in sync.

The world is moving to blockchain and stablecoins for international settlements. The technology is already here. But we keep being told about high risks, while closing their eyes to the fact that the risks of the domestic stock market are no less. It’s time to call things by their names. If we’re going to protect anyone, then protect the investor from any potential losses—whether it’s Sberbank share crashes or a bitcoin drop. And instead of bans, we should teach people how to manage money, diversify a portfolio, and not blindly trust even employees of big companies. Because, as we can see, no one is insured against it.