Something unheard of has been happening in Moscow in the past seven weeks. Alexey Navalny, an anti-establishment contender for Moscow mayor, has challenged the incumbent, Sergey Sobianin, one of President Putin’s most trusted appointees.

Several miracles were involved in the campaign, which will end on Sunday, when Muscovites elect their mayor for the first time in ten years. (Putin had previously replaced elections of regional leaders with appointments.) The first miracle is that Navalny was able to run at all. A prominent civic activist and anti-corruption crusader, he has long been a target of intimidation and harassment, and he even served a short-term jail term. This summer, he was sentenced to five years on what are broadly seen as fabricated charges and was taken into custody. But then, the next morning, he was granted a tentative sort of freedom—until his appeal is considered—and was allowed to participate in the mayoral race. (I wrote about his sentencing and release at the time.)

The second miracle is Navalny’s campaign. In Russia, where politics has been tightly controlled from above for the past decade, people have grown deeply cynical of anything political. But about fifteen thousand volunteers committed their time and souls to his campaign. “It is one-thirty AM and I set my alarm for 4 AM…”wrote a young volunteer in a popular youth magazine. She proceeded to describe a scene of frenzied and enthusiastic operations that is familiar to any American campaign volunteer yet all but unheard of in Russia. Many people, most of them very young, made themselves available for any work that came along: writing and printing leaflets; making banners; producing and distributing T-shirts, armbands, flags, balloons, stickers; or just washing a door, buying detergent, or fixing a broken toilet in the campaign headquarters. Donations came in a stream: people brought stationery, printers, cameras, coffee makers, and even a MacBook laptop computer.

Volunteers were canvassing all over town from “Navalny cubes”—small, square tents with Navalny’s image and some of his campaign goals printed on the walls. Some of them distributed campaign newspapers and agitated for him; others interviewed Muscovites for Navalny-campaign pollsters.

Another miracle, given Russia’s pervasive political cynicism: Navalny’s campaign drew on private fundraising. Altogether about a hundred million rubles (roughly three million dollars) have been raised.

But the most remarkable element may be Navalny himself: a man who seems to have been born to work the crowds, funny and charismatic but also smart, purposeful, and fearless, with impressive stamina. Ever since he was let out to campaign—knowing that he can be put back in jail at any time—he has held several neighborhood meetings each day, and has met for lengthy discussions with professional constituencies, such as academics, doctors, teachers, and businessmen. Some members of that last group have “come out” and signed a formal letteroffering Navalny a “social contract.” In Russia, such an act of collective defiance by members of the business community is quite a feat: over the years, Putin’s system has shown scant tolerance for businessmen who dared oppose it.

The system may have let Navalny run, but his campaign has unfolded in a difficult environment. Moscow officials have made public announcements accusing him of irregularities and campaign-policy violations (none of the allegations have been substantiated). Navalny personally was alleged to be hiding his ownership of real estate abroad—but no solid evidence was presented. Police raided an apartment where Navalny supporters allegedly kept “illegal” campaign materials; the door to the apartment was broken, and two young men were detained for ten days. No one explained what was illegal about the materials. Stacks of campaign newspapers have routinely been stolen. At one of his neighborhood meetings, Navalny himself was seized by the police and driven away. He was released shortly thereafter with no explanation. Muscovites who decorated their apartment balconies with Navalny banners received visits from municipal officials or police, who demanded that slogans be removed. On several occasions,“visitors” emerged on straps outside the apartments, like window-washers but with cutting equipment. At least once,a “hanging visitor” physically threatened the host in a highly expletive manner. Episodes of similar harassment were reported day in and day out.

During the last week of the campaign, Putin, in a lengthy interview withRussian state TV and the Associated Press, was asked about the Moscow mayoral campaign. He described Sobianin, the incumbent, in most complimentary terms. “I like such people,” Putin said. Speaking of Navalny, whom he never referred to by name, Putin mentioned the criminal charges brought against him as well as some of the unsubstantiated allegations that circulated during the campaign.

According to major polling agencies, Navalny may win about a fifth of the Moscow vote. The current mayor remains popular with a majority that still prefers the status quo. (There are a few other candidates, more minor ones, in the race, too.) Navalny’s constituents are those who resent the corrupt political monopoly that Putin has built—those who want change.

It is commonly believed in Russia that the Kremlin’s sudden leniency when it came to Navalny was driven by a desire to add a semblance of pluralism to Russian political life, and thus prevent new mass protests. Whatever the government’s motive, once the door to politics opened a crack, Navalny put his shoulder in. After the election Sunday, a higher court can confirm Navalny’s criminal sentence and put him behind bars. The Kremlin can then turn away from the permissiveness that enabled Navalny to run and can resume the repressive course of the past year. But Navalny’s energetic campaign has given the protest constituency a sense of political purpose that will not go away. The young volunteer wrote at the end of her article, “When Navalny is elected mayor, then I will get some sleep.”

Photograph by Sergey Ponomarev/The New York Times/Redux.