Despite expectations to the contrary, Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has not splintered the country’s leadership or given rise to either a revived opposition or a party of peace. Granted, some in the elite secretly favor an end to hostilities, but they keep their feelings to themselves. The result is that the only divisions in Russia’s corridors of power today are tactical differences, such as between realists, who have soberly assessed Russia’s military and economic prospects, and those pushing for escalation at all costs.
Even so, recent months have seen growing signs of unrest among those establishment figures with not only a say in high-level discussions but also influence over the state’s agenda and the ability to communicate their views to President Vladimir Putin. In this respect, it was telling how the authorities reacted to Meta’s announcement that WhatsApp, which has yet to be banned in Russia, would soon feature Telegram-style channels: a broadcast tool allowing users to share news and updates with their subscribers.
Two camps emerged. Key officials in the presidential administration cautioned against banning WhatsApp, citing the sociopolitical risks of cracking down on the most popular messaging app in Russia, used by over 60 percent of the population. Wary of the app’s potential for weaponization, those close to the security services advocated a ban, after which Meta said the new channels service would not be available in Russia.
It was similarly revealing when the popular TikToker Danya Milokhin returned to Russia after moving abroad almost a year earlier, only to swiftly leave the country again following public calls for him to be drafted into the army. Some in the government argued that returning Russians (hundreds of thousands of Russians have fled abroad since their country’s invasion of Ukraine) should be made to feel safe and welcome back home, while others demanded their ostracization, if not prosecution.
These two seemingly trivial episodes capture a key divide that could form the basis for a conflict within the elite. It’s true that there exists a strong consensus among Russia’s power players that defeat in Ukraine must be avoided. In terms of tactics, however, they differ substantially as to what comes next, and it is through their efforts to sway Putin—on questions of how to regulate information flows and deal with Russians whose loyalty is in doubt, and how rapidly and extensively to Sovietize the country—that this tension is increasingly expressed.
The opposing sides in this struggle might be called “the administrators” and “the revisionists.” The administrators are led by senior figures who command administrative, productive, and financial resources and also include individuals who work with the authorities on select projects. Their survival is closely linked to their ability to demonstrate effectiveness, as well as their success in adapting the system to new realities as swiftly and painlessly as possible.
In their ranks are key Kremlin officials, most ministers and governors, and financial officials. Since the outbreak of full-scale war, First Deputy Chief of Staff Sergei Kiriyenko has become responsible for the annexed parts of Ukraine; Deputy Prime Minister Denis Manturov has occupied himself with the defense industry; and central bank chief Elvira Nabiullina has set out to stabilize the ruble.
All of them have something to lose, starting with the levers of power they currently hold. They are defenders of the status quo who look for ways to achieve objectives without structural change and see state ideology in strictly instrumental terms, as a means of securing their own position. There is no demand in these quarters for an overhaul of the system.
These elites are defined by the roles they have been assigned and do not assert themselves politically. Their focus is on a quick result: if before the war the administrators had a longer planning horizon, albeit one centered on an infinite present, today there is no future for which to plan.
The administrators have their own stance on Ukraine, one they go to great lengths to hide. Under the present circumstances, civil servants cannot have their own agenda when it comes to strategic issues, and so it is unthinkable that any would internally push for a rethink of Russia’s relations with the West or question the official line on how the war is going.
The revisionists differ in several key ways. Their agenda is more long-term, their plans more concrete, and the future as they envision it more certain. Like their influence, their administrative, financial, and media resources are limited, leaving them with little to lose. They fear the status quo and see the current ruling elite as compradors, potential fifth columnists, and secret opponents of the war.
Until he went rogue and staged a brief armed rebellion, the late Wagner mercenary boss Yevgeny Prigozhin was the face of the revisionists. His peers included many war bloggers, the businessman Konstantin Malofeev (dubbed the “Orthodox oligarch”), some lawmakers from the United Russia ruling party, and most of the “in-system” (i.e., represented in parliament) opposition, with the exception of the New People party’s administrators.
Unlike the administrators, the revisionists have a long-term vision for Russia’s domestic politics and the war with Ukraine, from the kind and scale of repression needed to the steps required to maximize mobilization and achieve high military-political effectiveness. These elites insist on profound changes, including the redistribution of property, the embrace of authoritarianism, the consolidation of control over information, and the repression of those members of the regime who are suspected of wishing for peace. They see themselves not so much as advocates of escalation as reformers who are bound to the authorities and have varying levels of access to the Kremlin.
It’s worth noting how the siloviki, or security services, fit into all this. On the one hand, their ranks include technocrats such as Defense Minister Sergei Shoigu, Chief of the General Staff Valery Gerasimov, and Prosecutor General Igor Krasnov, whose approaches closely resemble that of the administrators. On the other, there are also frustrated secret revisionists among the siloviki. People like Security Council Secretary Nikolai Patrushev, Investigative Committee chief Alexander Bastrykin, and Foreign Intelligence Service head Sergei Naryshkin operate within the system, influencing the official agenda and advancing their own ideology and vision of the future.
With their struggle now directly shaping domestic politics, distinguishing the administrators from the revisionists is no longer a theoretical exercise. The latter are actively encouraging the authorities to tighten the screws and are taking part in all manner of discussions, from what to do with the likes of WhatsApp and YouTube and whether and on what scale to mobilize further, to what kind of monetary policy to adopt, how to treat returning emigres, and how best to make use of the assets of Western firms. Across the board, the logic of their arguments is geopolitical rather than economic.
This divide has fundamentally always been there, with the core of the ruling elite consistently focused on practical solutions and those on its periphery in favor of long-term changes. Yet as the war drags on and becomes more and more costly, the question of how to proceed from here is increasingly becoming one of the survival of the regime, the nation, and the state.
Moreover, the longer uncertainty remains around the outcome of the war, the louder the voices of the revisionists will grow. Instability, military setbacks, escalation, and Russia’s deteriorating position in the war all serve to empower the revisionists and undermine the administrators.
A fork in the road lies ahead for Russia. If, in the event of internal turmoil, the regime falls into the hands of the administrators, the authorities’ grip on power will weaken. If, however, the revisionists take full control of the levers of power, a Stalinist turn awaits the country.
