His every move to preserve power accelerates decay, writes a former senior official in the Russian government

Illustration: Dan Williams

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I T ARRIVED NOT as an event but as a sensation, felt everywhere at once: Vladimir Putin has led Russia into a dead-end and nobody has a map for what comes next. The first manifestation is a shift in the language used by senior officials, regional governors and businessmen: they have stopped using the first-person plural when talking about the actions of authorities in the country.

As recently as last spring, everything was “we” and “ours”. Mr Putin’s war on Ukraine may be reckless and failing, but it was shared. “We” were inside it, and it would be better for all of “us” if it ended sooner. Now they describe what is happening as “his” story, not “ours”. Not our project, not our agenda, not our war.

His decisions are described as “strange”. Even stranger is the fact that he decides anything at all. It is not only about falling approval ratings. The future is no longer discussed in terms of what Mr Putin will decide, but as something that will unfold independently of him—and possibly already without him.

This shift in language does not signal a rebellion. The authoritarian system can survive for a long time on fear, inertia and repression. It still has a monopoly on violence, but has lost its monopoly on shaping the future. In the past, the regime, for all its lies, had some project it could tout: “restoring statehood”, reasserting itself as an “energy superpower”. There was even “modernisation” before the U -turn to ultra-conservatism and war.

The irony is that Mr Putin started the war to preserve power and the system he has created. Now, for the first time since the conflict began, Russians are starting to imagine a future without him. This is down to a confluence of four factors.

First is the growing cost of fighting. The war in Ukraine was meant to be a special military operation conducted by selected groups who received financial incentives for their trouble, while the rest of society carried on as normal. This model crumbled as the war grew in length and scale. It has led to higher inflation and taxes, neglected infrastructure, increased censorship, endless prohibitions. It is not a national war, but it is paid for nationally—and society is not being offered any purpose in return.

Second is a growing demand for rules among elites who have been forced back into Russia, along with their capital. Previously their property rights were outsourced to the West. They used London courts, offshore structures and international arbitration to resolve conflicts or seek protection. Now conflicts must be resolved domestically, without functioning institutions. Demand for rules grows more urgent as redistribution of assets gathers pace.

In the past three years assets worth around 5trn roubles ($60bn) have been seized from private businessmen and either nationalised or handed to loyalists and cronies, the largest redistribution of property since the mass privatisation of the 1990s. It is not that the elites have suddenly discovered a taste for the rule of law or democracy. But even those loyal to the regime crave rules and institutions that can resolve conflicts fairly.

Third is the change in geopolitical climate that Mr Putin himself helped bring about. Russia sees itself as reshaping the global order. In reality it is a mere catalyst: Russia’s war on Ukraine has accelerated the crisis of Western democracy, the rise of populism and globalisation fatigue. Russia now finds itself in a world where rules are weak and where economic and technological strength and brute force dominate. In the rules-based world, Russia could exploit asymmetries: Europe’s dependence on its gas, its seat on the UN Security Council, the Soviet nuclear legacy. But Europe now buys its gas elsewhere, Russia’s Security Council seat has been devalued with the UN itself, and its nuclear blackmail has undermined the non-proliferation regime, depriving Russia of its status as an arbiter. When the order itself begins to crumble, the benefits of Putinist revisionism quickly disappear.

At the same time, Russia is suffering an identity crisis. For the first time in generations it lacks an external model to define itself against. Historically it defined itself in relation to Europe and the wider West. They were there to catch up with, to fall behind, to confront. That old axis is gone. The West as a single cultural, military and political entity is in crisis. There is no “there” against which one can define “here”. This is not an ideological issue. It is structural. Any development in Russia has to have an internal source of meaning—and the government is unable to provide it.

Fourth is growing ideological control without any balancing dividend. The previous social contract, whereby the state stayed out of people’s private lives while citizens stayed out of politics, has collapsed. In the past the system bought people’s loyalty with convenience, services and consumption. Now all it can offer is repression, intrusion and censorship—of which this year’s internet restrictions are the most striking manifestation.

The issue is not so much repression itself as repression without purpose. An ideology by definition presupposes an image of the future. This one demands discipline without offering one. People are required to be loyal without being told what future that loyalty serves. The political reality does not look desirable even for most of the technocrats involved in its construction. Optimism has been burned out from within.

Running out of moves

All four factors create a situation which in chess is known as a Zugzwang: when every move worsens the position. The system can persist for as long as Mr Putin remains in power. But his every move to preserve and expand it accelerates decay. His instinctive response may be to intensify repression. He may start another war. But these actions would only make things worse. He cannot restore the connection between power and the future. He can only make the rupture bloodier and more dangerous. ■


논증 분석

유형: diagnosis

핵심 주장

Vladimir Putin은 권력을 유지하려는 모든 시도가 오히려 체제의 붕괴를 가속화하는 ‘체스의 Zugzwang’ 상황에 빠져 있으며, 러시아 사회는 처음으로 그 없는 미래를 상상하기 시작했다.

논리구조

  1. 전제: 러시아 고위 관리, 지방 총독, 사업가들의 언어가 변화했다: ‘우리의’ 전쟁·프로젝트였던 것이 ‘그의’ 이야기로 바뀌었고, 미래가 Vladimir Putin의 결정과 무관하게 전개될 것으로 논의되기 시작했다.
  2. 진단: 이 언어적 변화는 반란의 신호가 아니라 체제가 폭력의 독점은 유지하지만 미래를 형성하는 독점을 잃었음을 의미한다. 과거 체제는 ‘국가성 회복’, ‘에너지 강대국’, ‘근대화’ 등 내세울 프로젝트가 있었으나 지금은 없다.
  3. 논거: 첫 번째 요인: 전쟁 비용의 사회화. Ukraine 전쟁은 선발대가 재정적 인센티브를 받고 사회는 정상 유지하는 모델로 시작됐으나, 전쟁이 길어지면서 인플레이션·증세·인프라 방치·검열이 심화됐다. 전쟁 비용은 국가 전체가 부담하지만, 사회에게는 아무런 목적도 제공되지 않는다.
  4. 논거: 두 번째 요인: 엘리트들의 규칙 수요 증가. 자본과 함께 러시아로 귀환한 엘리트들은 과거 London 법원·역외 구조·국제 중재에 재산권을 의존했으나, 이제 기능하는 제도 없이 국내에서 갈등을 해결해야 한다. 지난 3년간 약 5조 루블($600억)의 자산이 사유 기업인에게서 몰수돼 국유화되거나 충성파에게 이전됐으며, 이는 1990년대 대규모 민영화 이후 최대 재산 재분배다.
  5. 논거: 세 번째 요인: Vladimir Putin 스스로 초래한 지정학적 환경 변화. Russia는 세계 질서를 재편한다고 자처했으나 실제로는 서구 민주주의 위기·포퓰리즘 부상을 가속화하는 촉매에 불과했다. 규칙 기반 세계에서 Russia는 Europe의 가스 의존·UN Security Council 의석·핵 유산 등 비대칭 우위를 활용했지만, 이제 Europe는 다른 곳에서 가스를 구입하고, UN 자체가 약화됐으며, 핵 협박은 비확산 체제를 훼손해 Russia의 중재자 지위를 박탈했다. 또한 Russia는 서구라는 정체성 규정 대상을 잃으며 내부 의미의 원천이 필요한 정체성 위기에 처했다.
  6. 논거: 네 번째 요인: 반대급부 없는 이데올로기적 통제 강화. 과거의 사회 계약—국가는 사생활에 불개입, 시민은 정치에 불개입—이 붕괴했다. 체제는 이제 억압·침해·검열만 제공하며, 이데올로기가 전제하는 ‘미래의 이미지’ 없이 규율만을 요구한다. 충성의 대가가 무엇인지 제시되지 않으며, 체제 건설에 관여한 테크노크라트들조차 낙관론을 잃었다.
  7. 결론: 네 가지 요인이 결합해 체스의 Zugzwang 상황을 만들었다: Vladimir Putin의 모든 권력 유지·확장 시도가 붕괴를 가속화한다. 탄압 강화나 추가 전쟁 개시 같은 본능적 반응도 상황을 악화시킬 뿐이며, 권력과 미래 사이의 단절을 복구할 수 없고 단지 그 단절을 더 유혈적이고 위험하게 만들 뿐이다.
  8. 반론: 권위주의 체제는 공포·관성·억압으로 오랫동안 지속될 수 있으며, 아직 폭력의 독점을 유지하고 있다. 이 언어적 변화는 반란의 신호가 아니며 체제는 당장 붕괴하지 않을 수 있다.

결론

Vladimir Putin은 권력을 보존하려 할수록 체제 붕괴를 앞당기는 Zugzwang에 빠져 있으며, 그가 할 수 있는 것은 권력과 미래 사이의 단절을 복구하는 것이 아니라 그 단절을 더욱 유혈적으로 만드는 것뿐이다.

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