Time to read: 28 minutes(s)

Author: Tatyana Rybakova

Recently, reports of resignations, arrests, and imprisonments of governors and their subordinates have become almost commonplace. Perhaps the only truly sensational event was the suicide of Transport Minister Roman Starovoit, former governor of the Kursk region. At the same time, individuals who only yesterday, to put it mildly, seemed unacceptable in such high positions are increasingly appearing in the gubernatorial ranks—and the Kremlin is turning a blind eye to their antics. We spoke about this development with one of the leading researchers of Russian elites, economist Andrei Yakovlev, an associate researcher at the Davis Center at Harvard University.

Before the war, as far as I understand, the center had a certain unspoken agreement with the regional leaders. For the Kremlin, the ideal governor was a technocrat who carried out all orders and prevented protests. In exchange, the center turned a blind eye to the governors' methods of achieving their goals and to their potential personal gain. After the war began—especially evident in the "dispersal" of the Kursk region's governorship—this balance apparently shifted. In your view, has such a shift truly occurred? And if so, how would one describe the current agreement between the center and the regional leaders?

— I would say that the picture was initially somewhat more complex. You mentioned the informal contract between the Kremlin and the governors, where the primary objective was to demonstrate election results, while the center turned a blind eye to everything else. But that's the story of the 2000s. After the protests of 2011-2012, the situation began to change. Against the backdrop of citizens' demand for decent public goods, the Kremlin began to demand not only loyalty from the bureaucracy in general, and from governors in particular, but also a certain level of competence. It was then that the "School of Governors," created by Kiriyenko, emerged, and that's when the renewal of the gubernatorial corps began—indeed, with the emergence of a much larger number of technocratic governors. Because the governors of the 1990s were essentially all purged and replaced under Dmitry Medvedev: there was a major turnover around 2009-2010, when Mintimer Shaimiev, Murtaza Rakhimov, same Yuri LuzhkovOver the 2010s, there was a significant shift from Medvedev's appointees to those who emerged from Kiriyenko's "School of Governors."

At the same time, it was certainly a vertical system, with key parameters determined by the Kremlin. The regions were given resources—not a lot, but they were given them—but at the same time, a lot was demanded of them. I remember this quite well from my experience working with ASI, when the national entrepreneurial initiative was implemented with the idea of ​​improving Russia's position in Doing Business ranking The World Bank: ASI was actually monitoring the situation, actively pressuring the relevant vice-governors, and if that wasn't enough, then it was done through the Kremlin, along the line Andrey Belousov, put direct pressure on governors to genuinely improve the technical conditions for doing business. And this was generally achieved, as confirmed by World Bank measurements.

One of the tools used to pressure the state apparatus was criminal cases on corruption charges. After 2012, and especially since 2014, such criminal cases began to be brought not only against low- and mid-level officials, but also against federal ministers and governors. This wave of repressions targeted, in particular, Nikita Belykh, Alexander Khoroshavin, Vyacheslav Gaizer and many others. In my view, this reflected a change in the contract—a shift from decentralized corruption (in which bribes were taken at all levels) to a centralized model of corruption (in which it still flourished at the highest levels, but at the lower and middle levels it became possible only with direct sanction from above). In the logic of the very well-known articles by Shleifer and Vishny This transition meant a reduction in losses in the public administration system and a relative increase in its efficiency. These effects became apparent during the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, which became a kind of test for the system.

During the pandemic, the Kremlin, fearful of the potential consequences (because the initial forecasts were very pessimistic), quickly shifted responsibility for developments in the regions to the governors. And those who attended Kiriyenko's "School of Governors" demonstrated that they were capable of managing the situation in the unusual circumstances that arose in 2020. This doesn't apply to mortality—COVID-19 mortality in Russia was dismal—but reducing mortality wasn't a priority for the Kremlin. As for the state of the economy and maintaining social stability (which was the Kremlin's primary concern), this approach generally worked.

At the same time, this model assumed that people become governors for the sake of furthering their careers. In this regard, the following case is illustrative: Roman Starovoyta, whom you mentioned in connection with the purges in Kursk Oblast. He was a graduate of the "School of Governors," and I was told that he was one of those classic "straight A" students who want to make a career but aren't preoccupied with "high values" and are willing to play by the rules dictated to them from above.

What, in my opinion, is happening now? On the one hand, it's far from easy to find people to fill gubernatorial positions. Because the number of people who have gone from governor to federal minister can be counted on the fingers of one, if not two, hands. And there are, at the very least, dozens of governors. At the same time, including those new people who were nominated by Kiriyenko, no one is immune from criminal prosecution and repression (the recent article (In "Important Stories" about the conflict between Kiriyenko and the security forces). So, the governor's position isn't yet a death sentence, but, to put it mildly, there's a lot of responsibility and headaches, and the purpose of all this isn't entirely clear. Even before the war and COVID, I was told about one governor who was jokingly called "the Seventh" among his peers—because six others had previously refused the position.

Looking at the situation over the last almost four years, the war was undoubtedly a severe shock for governors. In fact, no one was prepared for war. Governors were saddled with the burden of ensuring social stability, communicating with local businesses—and, of course, ensuring state defense procurement and, a little later, contract recruitment for the army. What, in my opinion, is objectively happening to governors now? People are quite tired. Starting with COVID, they had a very brief respite in 2021, when things eased a bit, but then they've been in a state of permanent stress. Moreover, with contract recruitment, it wasn't just a KPI communicated to governors. I know from conversations with people in Russia that, until recently, vice governors had personal KPIs of this kind. That is, each of them, in their subordinate institutions, had to ensure that at least a certain number of contract soldiers were recruited for the army in the current month. But at the same time, no one relieved them of the responsibilities of providing social services, maintaining infrastructure, and voting in elections. At the same time, there were no immediate career advancement opportunities. The only thing that did happen, at least at the beginning of the war, was a reduction in the level of force. Since the mid-2010s, there had been a fairly powerful "whip" in the form of regular criminal cases. In 2022–2023, the number of criminal cases against officials—both at the gubernatorial and lower levels—decreased. And at least in this respect, officials felt more at ease.

Since 2024, after the latest presidential "election," a wave of arrests began in the Ministry of Defense, which then spread to the regional level. And as we see from the Starovoit case, this wave affects not only mayors and regional ministers, but also governors. My interpretation of this situation boils down to the following. Previously, despite all the pressure from above and the need to implement central priorities, the Kremlin provided governors with some form of compensation. The governor was the most important person in the region. Of course, there was the head of the regional FSB department, who was no less a prominent figure, but nevertheless, the governor had considerable power. He was the local "tsar." And for some, such power itself was attractive. At the same time, there were some, shall we say, "material compensation." And in this regard, the Starovoit case is particularly illustrative. Because I've heard from people—including those who knew him personally—that yes, he probably took something, and that those stories about apartments in different cities are probably true—but he took it within the rules. Because that's the system. We all understand that, in reality, there simply can't be anyone completely "white and fluffy" there by definition—those around them wouldn't understand them and wouldn't be able to work with them.

Like in the joke about a policeman in the 90s: here's a gun, and you can do whatever you want?

"Well, their salaries are actually quite high, but the system has its own rules. And Starovoit, apparently, played by these rules. And what ultimately happened to him? Then, I heard from people, he learned about his dismissal simply on the news. That is, none of his superiors (and that's essentially just Mishustin and Putin) told him about it personally. And yet, he had been at a meeting with Putin to deliver a report on transport a couple of weeks earlier. So, it was all really reminiscent of the story from the 1930s, when Stalin could meet with someone one day and then order their arrest the next, after which they would be shot. There was no talk of execution here, but there was clearly talk of a criminal case and prison—against the backdrop of all the investigations into his former subordinates in Kursk. And as recently happened at a conference." Ekaterina Shulman Well said, so far there have only been two people from the Russian bureaucratic apparatus who have refused: Dmitry Kozak refused the position, and Starovoit refused to go to prison.

In this context, the story of Starovoit is quite revealing. And it's not just about his suicide, which was a somewhat unusual gesture for Putin's system. The fact that a certain number of deputy prime ministers and ministers attended his funeral was, in essence, a public demonstration of the tension within the system. Because the system, it seems to me, was built throughout all those years of Putin's rule before the war on the principle that people within the system were compensated. Their lives became more difficult over the years, but they were compensated for this—not only with power, but also with some kind of material bonuses. So, the problem with the regime now is that the possibility of material compensation is getting worse. This whole a story about the budget shows that there is a strain on resources.

For many decades, the system was built on the loyalty of the elite—including the bureaucratic elite and those same governors—being secured by the rent they received. What's started to happen, especially in the last year? The burden on these people is increasing, while the resources the center can provide them are becoming increasingly scarce. At the same time, there are people in the system who continue to get everything they wanted—and maybe even more: all those comrades from the Ozero cooperative, the Kovalchuks, the Rotenbergs, and so on. They're not being shortchanged. Plus, over the last two to two and a half years, a new layer has emerged, which I would call the beneficiaries of the war. These are businesses that profit from it. This isn't all business, but only a specific part of it—Rostec and other state-owned companies, as well as private businesses that manufacture drones and the like. These are workers at military factories, contract soldiers, and their families.

The problem for the Kremlin, in my view, is that in addition to key elite groups— oligarchic business, high-ranking bureaucracy and security forcesThere have always been broader social groups on which the regime relied. For example, in the 2000s, this was largely the urban middle class and ordinary businesses. Because they were the beneficiaries of the economic growth that occurred in the 2000s. This story ended with the protests of 2011-12, when these very groups began to see themselves as citizens and wanted, in addition to material income, participation in decision-making—and the Kremlin was unwilling to give them this. Then the bet was placed on public sector workers: through May decrees 2012, when they promised higher salaries for doctors, teachers, and pensioners. And this worked more or less throughout the 2010s. For example, the 2018 elections were a success for the Kremlin precisely because these wage and pension increases took place, and the majority of public sector workers voted for the government.

What's the problem now? Rosstat reports show a significant increase in real incomes in 2023-2024. But in my view, this is largely a "hospital temperature," averaging tens of percent real income growth for workers at military plants, a three- to four-fold increase for contract soldiers' families, and virtually zero growth (at best due to inflation indexation) for those same tens of millions of public sector employees. I'm talking about doctors, teachers, pensioners, and ordinary police officers. And now, for example, Interior Minister Vladimir Kolokoltsev. complainedThat he is severely understaffed. The problem is that this social base—which is broader than the elite—has now shrunk to 10-15 million people, represented by security forces, military factory workers, and contract soldiers with their families. But unlike the "creative class" of the 2000s or the public sector workers of the 2010s, many of these people have real-life experience with violence and are far more organized. Therefore, Putin, unwittingly, finds himself objectively dependent on these groups, and despite the tightening of budgetary constraints, the Kremlin cannot deprive them of rent.

And governors and the broader bureaucracy find themselves caught between the millstones. On the one hand, there are players like the Rotenbergs or Kadyrov, who essentially represent the Russian version. mafia stateThere are players like Andrei Belousov or Sergei Chemezov, who represent a mobilization model of the economy and who also lay claim to resources. And bureaucrats, including governors, find themselves caught between these groups. And in my understanding, this story with Starovoit's funeral was, in a sense, an impulsive demonstration of "protest" on the part of these people, who suddenly began to realize that they were becoming expendable.

There's another point that's quite important. The Kremlin should objectively reward the current beneficiaries of the war, such as contract soldiers and "veterans of the Air Defense Forces," not only with money but also in the form of social status. And in my opinion, the increased repression of regional officials—in addition to serving as a "stick" to force people to work because there are no longer any "carrots"—is also a way to create vacancies for graduates of federal and regional education. "Time of Heroes" programsBecause these people need to be placed somewhere. And so positions will be freed up for them by pressuring current officials.

Lately, governors aren't exactly flush with cash either. More and more regions are facing problems in budgetsRegional debts are growing, and some regions are already on the brink of bankruptcy, such as the Kemerovo Region and Khakassia. Moreover, regions, including those that were relatively prosperous just yesterday, like Tatarstan, have begun to reduce regional payments to contract soldiers: to a nearly symbolic 500 rubles in the Belgorod Region, to 800 rubles in Tatarstan, down from over 3 million previously. So, at this point, the Kremlin has also begun to deprive them of funds—because, as we know, everything is built on transfers from the center. Or have they simply exhausted all their reserves for these payments—which, as I understand it, were made from funds intended for other purposes? Meanwhile, the Kremlin hasn't relaxed its demands.

I'm not familiar with all the details about regional budgets, but as far as I know, the Kremlin strictly demanded that the regions ensure the recruitment of contract soldiers. That's the first point. And the regions lured people into signing on with money. But by now, a large number of these contract soldiers have returned with various injuries, and many have returned in coffins. And people have begun to understand that money is money, but life is life. There's a purely economic dimension here: you can incentivize with money up to a certain point. And then, no matter how much you add, you won't see any additional growth. I think many regions have already reached that threshold, where even with increased funding, the number of contract soldiers doesn't increase. But, besides that, there's a second point: the regions' financial situation has actually worsened. Meanwhile, the announcement of payment cuts, which was made this year, in my view, is preparation for next year. Because the news that the regions were cutting payments began to surface right after the draft federal budget for 2026-2028 was published. This project made it clear that the regions don't have much of a future, and they'd be better off tightening their belts early and preparing for worse to come.

It's worth noting that this year, amid budget deficits, regions have begun to actively take out commercial loans from banks at commercial rates, which means an additional burden on their budgets. We experienced a similar situation in the mid-2010s, when the regions also lacked funds to implement the 2012 "May decrees," so they took out loans and incurred large debts. As a result, closer to 2018, the Ministry of Finance was forced to issue budget loans to the regions at a 0,1% annual interest rate to repay these commercial loans. I believe something similar will ultimately happen this time. But it's important to understand that, in essence, this will be a new injection of money into the economy, stimulating inflation—despite all the Central Bank's efforts to curb it.

Are there any current indicators that can be used to determine the center's level of satisfaction with the governor and the governor's viability? And in particular, what explains the persistence of such rather unusual governors as, for example, Georgy Filimonov in the Vologda region?

- Actually, it’s not just Filimonov, there are also Vyacheslav Fedorishchev in the Samara region, as well as Alexander Khinshtein in the Kursk region, although he belongs to a slightly different type. In my opinion, the emergence of such figures is precisely evidence that perestroika is underway: the old model has exhausted itself, and now a new one is being sought. This new model, in my understanding, can only be a mobilization one—because with the resources the Kremlin already has no opportunities continue the war within the framework of the model that has developed over the past 20 years.

But the mobilization model requires more than just a practical rejection of market governance mechanisms and a shift to administrative ones; it also presupposes a different management style. It requires people like the regional party secretaries under Stalin or Khrushchev, capable of banging their fists on the table and threatening arrests—and at the same time, reacting to every whiff of the wind from the center or trying to anticipate it. After all, all these games Filimonov plays with erecting monuments to Stalin, banning abortions, and restricting alcohol sales are not just for fun. In my opinion, Filimonov senses a demand for something similar from the Kremlin, and he is responding to this demand. And those in the Kremlin most likely view this as a test of certain practices of a new, much more rigid and closed socio-political model: figuratively speaking, will this work for the population and businesses, or is it too much and there's no need to generate additional tension with such measures. So far, the former is more likely to be the case.

There is one in the Vologda region Alexei Mordashov, the owner of Severstal and, by all previous standards, an oligarch. He's clearly in conflict with Filimonov. And even five or seven years ago, it was hard to imagine that someone of Mordashov's stature wouldn't be able to put the governor in his region in his place. And now, if Mordashov doesn't like the governor, what can Mordashov do? Yes, of course, there are stories about the arrests of Filimonov's vice-governors. But so far, this hasn't affected him. In my view, this is a deliberate decision by the Kremlin to use figures like Filimonov and Fedorishchev to test the "jingo-patriotic" and ultra-conservative agenda. And if such an agenda ultimately doesn't provoke strong rejection in one, two, or three regions, then everyone sees it and begins to think "it's okay." In other words, a new role model is beginning to emerge for the entire bureaucratic apparatus.

This was precisely my next question about the relationship between big business and governors, and the general problem of "outsiders" and local elites. On the one hand, as you rightly point out, big business locally is forced to remain silent, even though, relatively recently, people like Mordashov literally appointed those same governors. We've always known: in the Lipetsk region, the governor is a protégé. Vladimir LisinIn Vologda, it was Mordashov, and so on. Even if big business didn't directly appoint governors, the governors couldn't ignore them. Now, as you rightly said, even big business is forced to tolerate. Meanwhile, the Kremlin, it seems, is increasingly relying on "outsider" governors. And how, in your opinion, are these "outsiders" currently managing their relations with local elites? Because they are forced to tolerate them, but not only business but also the bureaucratic apparatus, which remains largely local, could very well stage an "Italian strike" against such a governor. And there are even reports that increasingly, even verbal orders from Putin himself are issued by governors. are not being implementedThey simply don't implement them, and they get away with it. And I have a feeling this is because local elites, including even those subordinate to governors, are quietly sabotaging what they consider either completely unacceptable or unacceptable within their own apparatus.

— Here, I would distinguish between several different scenarios. The first is about "outsider" governors and, accordingly, local governors. The Kremlin's policy during Putin's rule has always been to appoint as many non-locals as possible. Because they fear that local players could somehow coordinate the actions of local regional elites and begin to oppose the Kremlin. One of the classic examples of this kind is the story Sergei Furgal, who was a local and won the 2018 elections against the Kremlin's original plans—and we all know how he ended up. In this sense, the Kremlin's instructions are quite clear.

The second topic concerns the relationship between governors and businesses. A governor is a person appointed by the Kremlin, wielding power and capable of, if necessary, drawing on the resources of law enforcement (although he himself is under the control of the security forces, represented by the head of the regional FSB). In this capacity, a governor can certainly "build" businesses. But at the same time, the governor must address numerous issues at his own level. And he cannot resolve them solely with federal resources; there simply isn't enough money. Therefore, objectively, the governor always had to find some way to communicate with businesses. And when the governor was unable to communicate with local businesses, he usually failed. Here are some striking examples: Vladimir Shamanov in Ulyanovsk in 2000-2004 or Georgy Boos In Kaliningrad in 2005-2010. And on the contrary, where someone completely outside the region was able to establish such communication, everything somehow worked. An example of this kind is Alexey Gordeev During his tenure as governor of the Voronezh Region from 2009 to 2017, he was a clear "outsider" for the region, but he was a highly competent person, perhaps one of the most competent officials of that time. And he attempted to create conditions for the region's development through communication with businesses. Therefore, all the features of the regional governance model imposed by the Kremlin over the past two decades did not preclude some dialogue with local businesses for these "outsiders."

What's changing now? The stories of Filimonov and Fedorishchev are quite illustrative. When Fedorishchev arrived in Samara, he began "building" businesses and began forcibly seizing assets from the local gas grid owner. And I think this marked a shift in the previous model, which was oriented toward market mechanisms, where the governor had to negotiate with businesses—even though he was appointed from Moscow and had some military support. But in the current model, everything is changing. Recently, there was a very telling example. post by Evgeniy Minchenko Based on his speech at the VTsIOM Scientific Council—that is, at a completely official venue. He had two parts to his speech. One was about the masses, who are extremely tired of the war, and all this "patriotic squealing" on television is already having the opposite effect on them. The second part was about the elites—with the thesis that they are close to hysteria. Because they don't understand what they need to do to avoid being arrested and having their assets confiscated. And he, in particular, directly cites specific cases at the regional level, where people who were the backbone of the regime at the regional level—being in business, in United Russia, and sitting in regional legislative assemblies—are now being crushed. Their assets are being confiscated, they are being jailed, and they don't understand the rules of the game.

In my opinion, this reflects a situation where the security forces have "lost their boundaries." As a Russian acquaintance told me, these people feel like they're in a Klondike: gold nuggets are lying under their feet—just bend down and take them, it's all yours, there are no limits. And that's where the whole nationalization story, which is already underway on a massive scale, comes from. Take the story of "Yuzhuralzolotom", when a fairly high-status regional figure was caught in this roller, and there was no visible political reason for it. That is, when property was taken away from people like Sergei Petrov, it could at least be "explained" somehow by saying he supported the opposition. But there's no reason for that.

Essentially, a redistribution of property is underway in the interests of that same narrowed support group of the regime, which has become purely a power structure and which no one can refuse. At the regional level, this manifests itself in the fact that governors might be willing to negotiate with businesses, but the problem is that governors currently have little to offer businesses. Clearly, there are governors like Sergei Sobyanin or even Minnikhanov, who have federal status, but there are also governors of some godforsaken region, somewhere far away in Siberia or the Far East, who are truly dependent on Moscow simply because without transfers, they can't do anything. And previously, these federal resources were a tool for such governors to negotiate with businesses. And there was a certain understanding of the rules of the game, within which the governor, within the limits of their authority, could offer something to businesses. But now, resources are becoming increasingly scarce, and authority is becoming "floating."

Overall, my feeling is that the system is in transition—it's moving away from a model that had rules. They were partly formal, partly informal, but they were there nonetheless. And people understood that if I acted according to the rules, I could exist within the system. Now, this system is clearly beginning to break down, because the resources it relied on are clearly drying up.

Couldn't this transition turn into a rebellion of local elites?

"That's a good question. I've been asking myself the same question since the end of last year, when it became clear that resources were running out and, at the same time, pressure on the elites was intensifying. Signs of this kind can arise. For example, the stories about wage arrears. And not just at civilian facilities—even at military enterprises. Or you cited instances of some sabotage of Putin's orders. Do you understand the point here? Shulman herself recently made some interesting comparisons at a conference, albeit at the federal level: when, say, the Ministry of Finance—specifically, at the level of formally monitoring the implementation of the president's orders—can afford to ignore a whole series of orders that it deems pointless. Meanwhile, structures like Roscosmos, which are radically dependent on state funds and have nothing to show for it, are distinguished by the fact that they carry out all orders. I think the situation is most likely roughly the same at the regional level. So, Sobyanin or Minnikhanov can afford to ignore some truly silly requests coming from the Kremlin, well, not just shelve them, but put them on the back burner. But some governor somewhere out there, far away in Siberia or the Northwest, say, in the Kirov Region, will have to implement them. And they'll likely want something on paper, not verbal orders. Because if they implement something that requires resources, and then the Accounts Chamber, the Prosecutor's Office, and the FSB show up and start asking, "Why are you suddenly spending money on this?" Claiming that Putin verbally instructed them to do something won't work. So now people will try to find a piece of paper for every action, so that if something happens, they can say, "This wasn't my initiative; I was carrying out the order."

And the Kremlin is increasingly less fond of handing out papers, that's also true. I have another local question: three new governors already come from the FAS. I confess, I once worked at the FAS myself, and I remember that agency was always a bit of a backslider, pardon me. Is the FAS now also turning into a law enforcement agency, or were there other motives at play in these appointments?

— I can't say why they've started recruiting from there now, but the fact that the FAS is becoming a semi-security agency is a fact. This started back in Igor Artemyev, which is essentially what he was trying to achieve. Interestingly, with Artemyev's departure, the FAS's actual status has noticeably diminished—after all, under his leadership, it was an agency that tried to do something, whereas now, in terms of combating monopolies, the FAS is practically invisible. But they still had the ability to exert pressure on businesses. Then again, they have regional offices, so there may be some recruitment method: officials with experience in the regions then end up in Moscow, and then, via Moscow, return to the regions.

In conclusion, I'd like to ask: in your opinion, what might happen to the governors' corps over the next two years, and, consequently, their relationship with the local elites? Will arrests continue, will there be an elite revolt, or will everything devolve into a kind of "Italian strike," a kind of formalism where no one does anything without a piece of paper?

"The formalization option, where people will demand a piece of paper to protect themselves from criminal prosecution, is completely rational; it will happen in any case. That's the first thing. Actually, this has happened before, and it will definitely continue to happen. But the problem with the classic "Italian strike" option in Russian conditions could be that the system's resources will become increasingly scarce. What would I actually expect if the budget crisis unfolds? Here I must say that, with all due respect to my colleagues from CASE, who recently released report Regarding the stability of the system for decades, I am closer to the point of view of Alexandra Prokopenko, who recently presented quite convincing arguments at the conference “Country and World” theses The point is that, given the current level of budget expenditures, the current model's potential, in terms of classic standard economic policy measures, is 12-18 months. After that, this system will inevitably either begin to crumble completely or shift to resource extraction methods typical of the mobilization model: forced sale of OFZs to banks, forced loans from households, and so on. Then, the "center-region" relationship model will likely begin to resemble the 1990s. Back then, if you recall, governors in resource-rich regions—oil regions or Moscow, for example—found themselves in a stronger position vis-à-vis the center, and they could present some kind of negotiating leverage to the Kremlin. Because the Kremlin still needed political support from the regions, especially from the larger ones. I believe that as the center's capabilities weaken, a similar transformation will occur in our conditions as well—unless the regime shifts to a purely administrative model with a nominal market and conditional property rights, as has already happened in Belarus under Lukashenko. But the specificity of Lukashenko's model is that the Belarusian economy essentially exists on subsidies from the Russian Federation. And who would finance the Kremlin for something like that? It's not entirely clear.

China won't give it.

"Most likely, it won't. China, in fact, has enough problems of its own. But then it would slide back into something like Venezuela. The majority there is against Maduro, but they can't remove him. The country is essentially in ruins, but nothing has changed for years. And now, unfortunately, a similar scenario is looming on our horizon."

But in Venezuela, I'm told, there are regions that are truly completely independent of Maduro. Moreover, experts told me that Maduro only truly controls Caracas, Venezuela's capital, and the surrounding areas. It's somewhat similar to the 90s in Russia, where there were regions like Chechnya that Moscow couldn't really do anything about.

"Well, yes. There's nothing good about such a scenario, but until now, Putin's vertical power structure was built on Moscow's financial resources, which were given to the regions to meet social needs and maintain stability. At the same time, it had the power of law enforcement, through which Moscow controlled the situation in the regions, including the governors themselves. There will likely be funding for the security forces, but there are different types of security forces. There's the National Guard—and then there's the regular Ministry of Internal Affairs, which, judging by everything, is already underfunded. And when this model runs radically short of resources, the National Guard will likely be reduced to providing specific protection for the Kremlin and Putin's inner circle. Kadyrov's Chechnya, with its power base, will survive by raiding neighboring regions, and everyone else will be told, "There's no money, but hang in there."