Flush with oil money, Putin also, by way of Surkov's hand, formed the Nashi, best described as the Kremlin youth. The name literally means "ours," by way of "not yours. Their ranks number well over 100,000, many of whom joined the group as an avenue for advancement, not unlike the Komsomol decades before in the Soviet era. Building the Nashi played on young Russians' isolation, the need to feel apart of something larger and successful and potent, and their adherence to the Putin cult is, in many cases, part of the game rather than true religion. But the zeal and militancy of some elements of the Nashi, as well as the oil glut, inevitably demanded the Kremlin distance itself.

Alexander Tarasov, a former dissident and sociologist, was asked about the group in 2009, said, "It's simply dangerous to abandon this many kids after yanking them out of the wilderness and into political activism," Tarasov said. "I'll repeat once more, I don't think they'll be abandoned."

Revolutions nearly always belong to young, and, looking at images from Moscow, it's striking how old the population looks, particularly compared with the scenes from Tahrir and Tehran and elsewhere. The Nashi gave Russia's young an avenue into political thought, and, the success or failure of these December days will likely hinge on whether their blind support for Putin can be translated into genuine political agency -- on whether the Kremlin's dangerous gift can be turned against it.

The surges of unrest that world has witnessed alongside the financial collapse -- from rural to China, to Damascus, to downtown Manhattan - have been driven largely by those in their twenties and teens with little to lose. The global collapse has meant that the millennials around the world have watched progress stall, and futures become far less certain.

But, for the energy, and suffering, and beauty of these uprisings relatively little has been gained.

The lesson taken from 2011 may indeed be that revolutions need leaders, ones like the man the world lost last week. The digital era means that protestors can amass quickly, and singular events -- a troop carrier careening through a square, or a single act of police brutality in Oakland -- can galvanize a population and fill the streets.

But the slow nature of building revolutions in the analog era -- the very acts of circulating of Havel's plays and essays through Prague bars and theaters, or disseminating Khomeini's tapes through Tehran -- not only galvanized the public, but also built the stature of those who could negotiate with the regime, or who could come to lead in its place.

I've come to think that the street will very rarely succeed without icons, like Vaclav Havel, who can speak with legitimacy, and sit down with the ruling regime to negotiate, with both sides knowing that full weight of the street is behind him or her.