Semyon and Tatyana were resting on the seashore near the town of Furuvik during a hiking trip when they were approached by police, who had been called by security guards from a private home near the spot where the Russians had pitched their tent.

According to the Antiwar Committee, the grounds for the detention — and for the Swedish government’s subsequent deportation order — were the couple’s Russian accents and their possession of two tourist walkie-talkies. The Russians were also unable to clearly explain to police why they had chosen that specific place to spend the night. Later, they told rights defenders that they “like hiking and decided to spend the night by the water.”

Semyon and Tatyana are now being held in a deportation detention center. Margarita Kuchusheva, a consul with the Antiwar Committee, shared the details of their case with The Insider:

“This is not the first case in which Sweden has recognized Russian citizens as a threat to national security. Unfortunately, anti-war Russians sometimes fall under these criteria as well. In this case, [they were] simply a pair of tourists who chose to go on a camping trip.

Challenging such a status is extremely difficult, and it can seriously damage a person’s life, such as when one wants to apply for a visa. The consuls of the Anti-War Committee will help Semyon and Tatyana have this status removed and leave safely for Spain.”

The Antiwar Committee added that Semyon (who works as a game developer) and Tatyana oppose Russia's invasion of Ukraine, do humanitarian work, and help teenage emigres adapt to life abroad. 

According to rights groups cited by the news agency, the 32-year-old Gilman has been regularly abused in the penal colony, complaining of torture and injections of psychoactive drugs.

In late June, Gilman fell into a dissociative stupor, a trauma-related condition in which a person becomes partly or completely immobilized. He was transferred from a prison hospital to the psychiatric ward of a civilian hospital. Neither the U.S. consul general nor Gilman’s lawyer was allowed to visit him there.

Russian media reported in early July that Gilman had indeed been transferred to a hospital due to “deteriorating health.” His exact diagnosis, however, was not announced.

Eric Lebson, a representative of the rights group Global Reach, said Gilman is now being fed through a tube. His sister believes he may be close to death.

A senior U.S. official told Reuters that the White House “is closely tracking Mr. Gilman's case and has made repeated, concerted outreach to the Russians calling for his return to the United States.”

Gilman is a U.S. citizen and former Marine. He was detained in Voronezh, about 340 miles south of Moscow, in January 2022. Later that year he was sentenced to four and a half years in a prison colony after being accused of fighting with a Russian police officer at a train station. The sentence was later reduced by one year.

Then, in the fall of 2024, Gilman was sentenced to another seven years in a high-security prison colony in cases involving alleged attacks on prison employees and a state investigator.

Reuters reported that Gilman is one of at least 10 Americans known to be imprisoned in Russia.

The maximum compensation will be 50,000 rubles (just over $600) per item, but no more than 100,000 rubles ($1,200) for a single insured event. The insurance company will determine the exact payout after a seller files a claim. Up to 14 days are allotted for reviewing the claim and transferring the money.

“As with other risks, insurance coverage applies during delivery, storage at pickup points, and return logistics in the event of a refusal, return, or non-purchase of an order. Charges for this type of insurance are also made once a day as a single total. Nothing changes in financial reports,” the terms say.

Sellers will not be able to receive payouts under the program for unordered goods destroyed in recent strikes on warehouses. Wildberries may separately compensate their value at its own discretion, but sellers cannot receive payment from both the marketplace and the insurance company for the same item.

After expanding coverage, Wildberries increased the cost of insurance. Since Aug. 7, the rate ranges from 1.96% to 5.6% of the item’s price, depending on the category. Previously, the minimum rate was 1.4% and the maximum was 4%.

For sellers already using the service, the rate will change automatically. The fee is charged after each order is placed, regardless of whether the buyer ultimately purchases the item. If the same item is ordered five times but purchased only once, the seller will pay insurance on all five orders.

Wildberries launched its order insurance service in February 2025. During testing, there was a single rate of 1.4% of the item’s value. The rate was later divided by category: 1.4% for electronics and household appliances, 4% for clothing, footwear, and accessories, and 2% for other goods.

Shortly before the wave of Ukrainian strikes began in mid-July, Wildberries added drone attacks, shelling, and explosions to its list of “force majeure” events, allowing the marketplace to avoid liability for lost goods, The Insider reported. The company still promised voluntary partial compensation, but some sellers said the first payouts were far below their losses.

By Aug. 3, the value of destroyed goods was estimated at between 215 billion and 280 billion rubles ($2.6 billion to $3.4 billion). One seller, who lost around 5 million rubles in goods ($61,000), received 1,980 rubles ($24) from Wildberries; another, with losses of 738,000 rubles ($9,000), received about 41,000 rubles ($500).

In December 2025, a man named Sergei N. approached Thumann’s home in the Lower Bavarian town of Strasskirchen, filming the building’s entrance on his phone and photographing the nameplate listing its residents. German intelligence had received a tip from their foreign counterparts indicating that Thumann presented an elevated threat risk.

Bavarian police detained Sergei N. and seized his phones, but they failed to decrypt the data during the period in which they could keep him in custody. Only later was it established that he had been in contact with Russian intelligence officers — and that he had also attempted to surveil Thumann’s father to determine the son’s whereabouts. By that point, Sergei N. had already left for Spain with his family, but surveillance of the younger Thumann was continued by Romanian national Alla S., who lived in North Rhine-Westphalia.

Both were detained in March 2026 — Sergei in Spain, and Alla in Germany. Neither was a career intelligence officer. Instead, investigators consider them to be “disposable agents” — vulnerable individuals recruited online. The actual assassination, according to investigators, was to be carried out by other operatives. The Federal Court of Justice judge did not include the murder plot theory in the arrest warrant, which only cites suspicion of espionage activity.

Thumann founded Donaustahl in 2019, and since 2023, the company has been manufacturing drones. He speaks publicly and forcefully about Russia, writing on his LinkedIn page:

“Russia does not want peace. It wants to destroy the West.”

The entrepreneur is currently under heightened security protection and hints that attending public events has become dangerous for him, telling his followers that “for certain reasons” he is unable to attend trade shows.

Additionally, according to Die Zeit, another defense company is on the radar of Russian intelligence, and investigators cannot rule out the possibility that its director’s life is also at risk (though further details remain classified). Notably, on June 11, Serbian border guards stopped a truck at the Serbian-Hungarian border that was carrying explosives in concealed compartments. The drivers’ phones contained contacts with Russian intelligence officers, and the truck’s destination was Bavaria, where Quantum Systems and Helsing operate, alongside Donaustahl. A court in the Serbian city of Subotica confirmed to Die Zeit that suspects Danilo B. and Slobodan D. are in pretrial detention.

BILD had previously reported on the detention of two alleged “disposable agents” carrying an explosive device at the Serbian-Hungarian border. As early as 2024, reports emerged that Russian agents had been surveilling Rheinmetall CEO Armin Papperger, and Berlin operates on the assumption that such assignments could not have been made without the Kremlin’s approval.

Lang said the political decision to install the systems at airports was made “at the speed of light” following several drone-related incidents in Berlin last year. But he added the incident at Leipzig-Halle clearly showed the need to speed up protective measures. The BDL head cautioned that “absolute security is impossible,” but promised that by the end of 2026, eight German airports classified as critical infrastructure — Berlin, Frankfurt am Main, Düsseldorf, Hamburg, Cologne-Bonn, Leipzig-Halle, Munich, and Stuttgart — would be equipped with the latest anti-drone systems.

On Aug. 5, Leipzig-Halle Airport was forced to suspend operations after a drone with a detonator was found on the runway near a Ukrainian An-124 cargo plane. German Interior Minister Alexander Dobrindt said the people behind the incident were “not amateurs” but instead had planned their operation “extremely professionally.” He said the incident reflected a “new level of threat,” because drones carrying explosives had not previously been recorded at German airports. A foreign state could be behind the incident, he said.

German media reported on Aug. 6 that Leipzig airport “may have narrowly avoided a catastrophe,” as the Ukrainian aircraft in question was loaded with ammunition.

ARD’s news program Tagesschau noted that Leipzig/Halle Airport is a key hub for Western arms deliveries to Ukraine. In July 2024, a package exploded there shortly before it was to be loaded onto a DHL aircraft. Related blasts also occurred in a truck in Poland and at a warehouse in the UK.

In connection with those incidents, Lithuanian authorities charged 15 suspects, including citizens of Russia, Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, and Ukraine. Lithuania’s Prosecutor General’s Office linked the incidents to Russian military intelligence. Five defendants are now on trial in Poland over the series of explosions, which were allegedly carried out on behalf of Russian intelligence services.

Tagesschau said drone sightings near German airports have become more frequent, with 145 disruptions recorded in the first half of 2026 alone.

Starting in 2027, Russian authorities will also be able to buy up to 30% more medicines, medical devices, and consumables from an existing supplier without holding a new tender.

In public, the amendments were presented mainly as a way to simplify procurement for Russia’s regions. But an expert on Russian state procurement who spoke to The Insider noted that the new rules apply to all state and municipal customers, including federal agencies. In the expert’s assessment, many of the amendments close gaps in Federal Law 44-FZ, Russia’s main law governing public procurement, which previously had to be bypassed through supplemental agreements.

“The main changes take effect Oct. 1, 2026, except for the rule on splitting contracts, which takes effect from the date of publication and applies retroactively,” the expert said. “Although the bill was publicly linked to simplifying procurement for Russian regions, in reality it applies to all customers at any level, including federal and municipal ones. Here is what will change:

1. Goods may now be replaced during the execution of contract. If a supplier cannot deliver a specific brand due to sanctions or logistical disruptions, it may offer an equivalent with the same characteristics. Changing the country of origin is now also allowed, subject to the national regime. Law 44-FZ did not account for the possibility that the same product could be manufactured at different production sites — for example, the same model of printer may be produced in Vietnam and Malaysia. A supplier previously could not list all possible production locations in its bid, making it formally impossible to change the country of origin of the goods. In practice, parties had to invent supplemental agreements that claimed a fictitious improvement in the product’s characteristics. That problem in the law’s legal drafting has now been resolved.
2. For medicines, medical devices, and consumables, the option to increase the volume by 30% becomes a permanent rule. But lawmakers have specified that the price can be changed only once. Cascade supplemental agreements within the 10% price increase limit — for example, first by 3%, then by another 2% — will no longer be allowed during the execution of a contract, and that is completely illogical.
3. The price of a volume-free contract — when a product is being purchased but the exact volume of consumption cannot be predicted, such as food for a hospital or spare parts for vehicles — may be increased within 10%. The issue of lowering per-unit prices has not yet been resolved.
4. In requests for quotations, it is now possible to submit protocols of disagreements to contracts. Previously, if procurement documentation contained legal drafting defects, clearly erroneous provisions could not be removed from the contract, and the situation had to be resolved with the customer through supplemental agreements after contracting — something not all customers agreed to. The initial maximum contract price threshold for purchases from small businesses has been raised from 20 million to 30 million rubles. That is consistent with the logic of Law 44-FZ and the current economic realities.
5. In closed procurements carried out by decision of a medical commission, trade names may now be specified. The period for approving a contract with a single supplier has been shortened from eight to five working days. That is also a clear step forward compared with the previous rules in this area.
6. The law now directly establishes that several contracts with one supplier are permissible as part of small purchases. This removes the risk of accusations of contract splitting in cases where one large procurement procedure objectively cannot be held. Since unintentional contract splitting often led to cases before the Federal Antimonopoly Service — and even criminal cases, especially in state defense procurement contracts — the situation is moving toward greater logic and legal justification.”

The amendments were initiated by Federation Council Speaker Valentina Matviyenko. In early July, she proposed temporarily suspending Law 44-FZ, or at least some of its provisions, saying corrupt officials had learned to circumvent the law while conscientious officials faced difficulties and lost time.

After the amendments were adopted, Matviyenko said they would “significantly ease” the work of regional leaders, adding that a working group would be created to prepare further changes to the public procurement law.

“This is a drastic increase, indicating a deterioration of the vessel’s condition. Satellite imagery analysis suggests that the oil spill covered 45 square kilometres up until 26 July. By 2 August it had expanded to around 150 square kilometres, and imagery from 4 August indicates that it now extends across roughly 600 square kilometres,” Greenpeace environmental disaster expert Nina Noelle said.

Greenpeace MENA campaigner Hanen Keskes said the oil threatens sea turtles and birds that use the Al Hallaniyat archipelago, near where the spill occurred, as a nesting site.

As The Insider previously reported, the tanker Caroline Bezengi (IMO 9224439), which ran aground off the coast of Oman in June, has become the source of an ongoing oil spill. The vessel, which has a deadweight tonnage of 159,168 tons and is 274 meters long, is grounded off Al Qibliyah island. The tanker ran aground on June 12 after a series of explosions, the cause of which remains unknown.

The formal owner of the Cameroon-flagged tanker is Rentoor Shipmanagement, a company registered in Shanghai. As an investigation by The Insider previously found, the Caroline Bezengi belongs to a group of tankers linked to the Cyprus-based company Lagosmarine Ltd. Those vessels regularly carried Russian oil from Primorsk, Ust-Luga, and Kozmino to India and China.

The investigation found that Caroline Bezengi’s routes coincided with shipments of oil bought from Russia’s Surgutneftegaz by Dubai-based companies linked to Latvian citizen Aleksejs Haļavins at prices above the G7 price cap. 

Lagosmarine Ltd was later sanctioned by the United States and Ukraine. Caroline Bezengi is under sanctions from the European Union, Switzerland, Ukraine, the United Kingdom, and Canada.

After the start of what the Iranians call the 40 Day War, only China and Russia were providing Tehran with any military equipment and technology. As far as it has been possible to establish, these were all military sales, not grants. Initially, to the chagrin of the Iranians, both Beijing and Moscow largely limited themselves to continuing to fulfil existing contracts, largely consisting of components for missiles and drones produced in Iran, along with spare parts for Russian and Chinese equipment already in service with the Iranian armed forces.

After the start of what the Iranians call the 40 Day War, only China and Russia were providing Tehran with any military equipment and technology

The main exception was China’s agreement to supply Iran with satellite intelligence, replacing Tehran’s reliance on GPS with a new dependence on the BeiDou guidance system. Various sources in the Iranian military establishment acknowledge that over the course of the 40 Day War, China appears to have provided Iran with intelligence on the location of U.S. assets in the Gulf. Russia too appears to have shared some intelligence. In addition, sometime after the initial American onslaught, the Russians started providing parts necessary for repairing damaged S-300 batteries — similar to what they had already done after the 12 Day War of June 2025 — while the Chinese started providing parts for their equivalent HQ-9B system, whose batteries were also hit hard in the first few days of the 40 Day War.

Faster missile deliveries

The Iranians repeatedly appealed to Russia and China for speeded-up deliveries of recently ordered equipment. IRGC sources indicate that the Russians agreed to accelerate the fulfilment of a contract signed before the start of the war for the delivery of Moscow’s most modern shoulder-fired anti-aircraft system, the Verba (SA-29), which was initially scheduled to be delivered from 2027 onwards. Around 50 launchers were delivered just before 28 February 2026, along with a supply of missiles. The Chinese, for their part, agreed to speed up deliveries of CM-302 anti-ship missiles at the beginning of March and delivered a first batch in mid-April — before the U.S. blockade had begun affecting Iranian ports facing the Indian Ocean. The Russians also delivered six Mi-28 attack helicopters in February, but it is not clear whether this delivery was accelerated relative to the initial schedule.

The Iranians also sought new contracts for additional supplies — not only weapons systems but in fact primarily more advanced spy satellite capabilities and components for missiles and drones. They also explored the possibility of sales of advanced anti-aircraft missiles, including Russian long-range anti-aircraft S-400 missiles. A source in Iran’s air defence says that Iran has approached China for HQ-9Cs, a more advanced version of the HQ-9Bs already used (very ineffectively) by Iran in the 40 Day War. Another air defence source had reported the sale of medium-range anti-aircraft systems HQ-16Bs to Iran — with quick delivery — but so far there is no confirmation from Iranian sources of any shipments having actually taken place. Negotiations over the purchase of J-10C fighters with China were reportedly still ongoing in June.

Iran sought to secure contracts for the supply of more advanced weapons

In any case, long-range systems and combat aircraft would take so long to acquire and integrate into Iran’s air defense network that they could not have an impact on the ongoing confrontation, even if it were to last several more months. As indicated by sources in Iran’s air force, while Russia recently informed Iran about being ready to deliver the first twenty of the Su-35s that Tehran ordered in 2023, the Iranians decided to delay the shipment due to the resumption of hostilities with the Americans. The new fighters would have been so vulnerable to U.S. airstrikes once in Iran that they simply could have been incinerated before even making it to the underground facilities that have so far sheltered the bulk of the Iranian air force. Even as the equipment necessary to maintain and operate the new planes started arriving in Iran, the Su-35s served Iran’s interest best by waiting in Russia.

Simple but effective solutions

Thus, the Iranians prioritised purchases of equipment that they could rush into service. Even though Tehran already had thousands of shoulder-fired portable short-range anti-aircraft missiles in its arsenal, they added even more thanks to the simple fact that they could be integrated in a matter of days. Having ordered the Russian Verba (as mentioned above), they also urgently sought Chinese equipment of the same class. An IRGC source indicated that the Chinese started delivering FN-6 shoulder-fired anti-aircraft systems in May, but it is not clear when the order was placed. Given that the FN-6s are now rather antiquated, it is possible that these were not new production stocks, but stored systems. Iran kept seeking more advanced models, and on July 29 Reuters reported that Iran and China had signed a contract for the delivery of FN-16 (an improvement of the FN-6) and of the modern QW-12 shoulder-fired anti-aircraft systems. An IRGC source confirmed that deliveries would start as soon as August.

Another example of resources that Iran was able to usher into service promptly is drone technology. Throughout the 40 Day War, IRGC sources frequently noted that the Iranians had approached the Russians multiple times regarding the technology Moscow employs on drones such as the Geran-2s and -3s. The Iranians have always privately acknowledged that they lagged seriously behind in terms of electronic countermeasures, hence their interest in Russian solutions. However, until mid-June, the Russians did not agree to share the technology, according to IRGC sources.

Unexpected support

During the 15 days of clashes that followed the collapse of the MoU that had been signed on 17 June, however, two important developments took place, according to IRGC sources. The Russians started providing advanced electronic components for drones and missiles, in particular countermeasures such as the Kometa-M anti-jamming system, which the Iranians integrated on their drones within days and resulted in much greater effectiveness in the strikes carried out during this period. And the Russians also provided electronic countermeasures for ballistic missiles that work to confuse enemy anti-aircraft systems.

Again according to IRGC sources, another important development involved the Chinese loaning one of their military satellites to Iran, thereby giving Tehran’s forces the capability to monitor developments in the region in real time and to deliver ballistic missiles on target at very short notice. The combined effect of these innovations was greater than anything else Russia or China had provided to Iran up to that point and resulted in greater Iranian effectiveness.

China loaned one of its military satellites to Iran in an unprecedented move

It was thus China and not Russia that provided satellite intelligence, according to Iranian accounts, although it was indeed Russia that supplied improved anti-jamming and other technologies. The most ground-breaking development among these was no doubt China’s satellite loan (given that transferring drone technology is by now a very well-established practice worldwide). Lending a military satellite to Iran is in fact certainly a first for China — and not only for China — signalling a rising degree of commitment from Beijing to prevent an undesired outcome to the conflict. It is possible, even likely, that Russia’s and China’s moves were coordinated, given that they occurred almost simultaneously.

Russia and China’s motives

It is not clear what exactly convinced Russia and China to take actions that they had avoided back when Iran was under much greater pressure in the middle of the 40 Day War. IRGC sources say that diplomatic contacts are ongoing between Beijing and Tehran. The Chinese are trying to convince the Iranians to accept Pakistani mediation to end the conflict with the U.S., they say, but the Iranians say they will never trust the Americans again after having been cheated multiple times already. The Iranians are asking the Chinese to become guarantors of a future agreement with the Americans, as a necessary precondition for the Iranians to sign anything. There is no indication as to what the Chinese are considering, but the satellite loan, plus the continuing deliveries of military parts and equipment, seem to suggest that China is gradually getting more involved.

In practice, however, it is hard to see how China could offer Iran any credible guarantee of enforcement for any deal struck with the Trump administration without establishing a direct military presence in the Gulf. That is probably the last thing the Trump administration would like to see, and it is not even clear that Iran itself would want Chinese military forces stationed on its territory, let alone that China would consider such an effort to be worth the cost. 

A scenario in which China becomes Iran's security guarantor is the one the U.S. would most like to avoid

Two other possible reasons for Russia and China to get engaged more deeply on Iran’s side are the resilience shown by the Islamic Republic, which makes supporting it a more convincing proposition, and the desire to let Washington know that American attempts to coerce its way out of a difficult predicament will backfire. For Russia, an additional reason could be to send Washington the message that Moscow has plenty of room for retaliation if the U.S. were to extend the level of their support for Ukraine. These different rationales for supporting Iran are not mutually incompatible and could all apply in some measure.

The Russians consider the intelligence provided to Kyiv by the U.S. to be a key factor enabling Ukraine to evade Russian air defenses when carrying out strikes on a range of targets deep in the enemy’s rear. There have even been media reports claiming that back in March Putin offered Trump a trade: ending Russian support for Iran in exchange for the cessation of such U.S. help to Ukraine. Trump did not show much interest, so it might be that Putin decided to raise the stakes.

On Nov. 27, 2025, the Southern District Military Court in Rostov-on-Don sentenced eight people to life in prison, describing them collectively as an organized group recruited by the Armed Forces of Ukraine (AFU) to blow up the Kerch Strait Bridge on Oct. 8, 2022, when a truck bomb exploded at 6:03 a.m. Moscow time. The explosives were concealed inside a shipment of polyethylene film. They detonated the morning after Vladimir Putin celebrated his 70th birthday.

The bridge bombing operation was carried out by taxi driver Denis Kovach and his associate, ex-convict and smuggler Mikhail Tsyurkalo. Both men are currently wanted.

Notably, investigators and those convicted describe the initial steps the same way. In the summer of 2022, 55-year-old farmer Roman Solomko found himself in a difficult situation. A year earlier he had ordered an expensive ammonium sulfate processing line from China to be delivered to Kherson through the port of Odesa.

However, after the war began, Solomko and his enterprise, APK Green Line, ended up in the occupied part of the Kherson Region, making that delivery route impossible. After consulting with Crimean businessmen, Solomko decided to bring in the equipment via Georgia — first to the port of Poti, then overland through Crimea to his property in the Kherson Region.

“I went to Georgia with my neighbor Denis Kovach. Kovach had been to Georgia many times, as he was involved in illegally transporting people from Ukraine to Georgia. He could provide physical support,” Solomko said in his first testimony (the transcript is in The Insider’s possession).

As Solomko explained to investigators, his neighbor wasn’t a close friend, but since Kovach worked as a taxi driver, they could at least take turns driving. In addition, Kovach had the experience to be able to back him up in negotiations with Georgian brokers and help with the loading of the equipment line.

“He’s that neighbor who works as a taxi driver. Beer belly, not athletic. Could give you a lift somewhere. His hand was injured in an accident. The man did his job, and I paid him. Kovach was always looking to earn money,” Solomko explained.

But Kovach never once got behind the wheel. He spent several weeks in Georgia living on Solomko’s money and constantly calling his friend Mikhail Tsyurkalo, with whom he had done years of prison time in the Zhytomyr Region. “In Georgia, Denis kept him informed of our every step, every detail — which irritated me enormously,” Solomko later complained during interrogations.

According to database leaks, Tsyurkalo is now 51 years old. In 2005, he was convicted of armed robbery and car theft. Kovach and Tsyurkalo were cellmates in the penal colony for about ten years. According to Solomko’s testimony, Kovach recounted to him how he and Tsyurkalo had organized a plastics recycling operation and a painting workshop behind bars, reportedly earning between $5,000 and $10,000 a month. “The prison warden was on our payroll,” Kovach allegedly boasted to his friend (from the interrogation transcript).

The prospect of clearing the cargo through customs and delivering it to occupied Kherson greatly interested Tsyurkalo. He began persuading Kovach to help him transport several truckloads of construction film to Crimea, saying there was an excellent regular buyer willing to pay good money. Kovach’s cut could be around $3,000 per truck.

According to Solomko, Kovach jumped at the idea of working with his old partner again — and for good money. “About Denis, I can say that he’s lazy, doesn’t like to work hard, was always on the lookout for easy money. Denis is very greedy and brazen. You can’t trust him with serious work — he’s more of an executor than an organizer,” Solomko said about the taxi driver (from the interrogation transcript).

Kovach even talked Solomko into a phone call with Tsyurkalo. “Mikhail said he was practically the top smuggler in all of Europe. Clearly he was joking, but apparently he wanted to seem very important,” Solomko told interrogators.

In the end, Solomko gave Kovach the contact details of his Georgian broker, Levan Benashvili, and Kovach set about organizing the film transport.

Tsyurkalo bought Kovach a plane ticket, and Kovach flew to Czechia — to discuss their joint venture with his former partner, whom he hadn’t seen in eight years. Then he went back to Georgia to meet the first truck carrying the film.

A roundabout route

The explosives-laden cargo traveled from Bulgaria to Georgia, then on to Armenia for customs clearance, and then back — in transit through Georgia to the Verkhny Lars crossing. According to the investigation’s theory, this convoluted route was designed by the AFU to obscure the trail and avoid a thorough inspection at the Russian border.

According to one of the convicts, customs clearance in Armenia was indeed easier, as both Armenia and Russia are members of the Eurasian Customs Union. Later in court, several Russian customs officials also confirmed that this had been a normal route at the time.

Solomko’s Georgian connection — broker Levan Benashvili, currently also wanted — handled customs clearance and cargo delivery within Russia. Notably, when he helped Solomko bring his fertilizer processing line into Russia, the order was placed under LLC Leader, registered using fraudulent documents that placed its official address in the bathroom of an office building in Moscow. Benashvili later dispatched the truck from Tsyurkalo in the same way. In the documents, the recipient was also listed as LLC Leader.

The order was placed under a company with a fake registered address located in the bathroom of an office building in Moscow

The bridge bombing operation was carried out on a very tight timeline. It was only in mid-August that Tsyurkalo learned of a possible route, and by September 2022 he had already arranged for the explosives-laden cargo — disguised as polyethylene film — to be delivered to the port of Poti. According to the cover story, Tsyurkalo needed to transport 22 tons of film worth €35,000 to Crimea for a certain “Ivan Ivanych.”

On Sept. 25, the Georgian broker found a driver — 39-year-old Artur Terchanyan, who had dual Armenian-Georgian citizenship. He was born in Armenia, but his family later moved to Georgia due to the Nagorno-Karabakh war. Terchanyan started working as a truck driver at age 19, and from 2008 onward he made regular work trips to Russia.

According to transcripts of messages and voice notes Terchanyan exchanged on WhatsApp with a female dispatcher, various brokers, and farmers, he drove to the border in a laid-back mood, joking and marveling at the enormous queue of a thousand vehicles waiting to exit from the Russian side. At the time, Russia had launched a nationwide mobilization effort, and potential conscripts were fleeing to Georgia through the Verkhny Lars checkpoint.

Terchanyan’s truck was X-rayed and inspected twice: at customs in Armenia and then at the Verkhny Lars checkpoint on the Russian side. Neither time did the cargo raise any suspicion. Upon arriving in the Russian town of Armavir on Oct. 6, Terchanyan even parked the explosives-laden truck right outside his sister’s house, where he spent the night. The following day, he unloaded the goods at the warehouse of the Agro-Business company, owned by brothers Artem and Georgy Azatyan. 

The Georgian brokers refused to enter Crimea for political reasons, and so the cargo had to be transshipped in Russia’s Krasnodar Krai. To get help with that leg of the route, Solomko turned to an old friend — farmer Vladimir Zlob from the Kherson region, who had been supplying him with fruit and vegetables and could also help with loading goods. Zlob in turn reached out to businessman Artem Azatyan.

Solomko insists he would not have worked with Tsyurkalo, but that he couldn’t bring himself to say no to Kovach when he came to him in a panic, begging for help with finding new trucks for the transshipment — this time to Crimea. As all the prisoners explain, farmers are constantly helping each other out.

The farming brotherhood

In his numerous statements during the investigation, Artem Azatyan recounts that he met Zlob in the spring of 2022. Due to the war, thousands of farmers from occupied Ukrainian territories had begun moving grain to sell in Crimea, forming a massive informal market there.

Azatyan bought soy from Zlob and his business partners for his Agro-Business enterprise — which included several warehouses, a processing facility, and garages on a three-hectare site — boasted an annual turnover of 140 million rubles ($1.7 million). Technically, his older brother Georgy was listed as director, while Artem was listed as legal counsel, but in practice the brothers ran the business together.

In September 2022, Zlob asked Artem Azatyan a favor — to transship a processing equipment line at the warehouse for Solomko, and then reload some film for a buyer in Crimea. “I agreed because there was nothing complicated about it,” Azatyan said during one of the interrogations. Moreover, he himself regularly used similar services from other farmers or warehouse owners in the region.

On Oct. 6 and 7, when Terchanyan arrived for unloading, Artem wasn’t on site, and his brother Georgy met the truck. According to the case materials, Georgy was furious that Artem was again helping out some farmer for free, and even called him to complain. But he still allowed the truck to be unloaded.

One day before the explosion

Two more defendants, Alexander Bylin and Vladimir Antipov, were drawn into the story two days before the explosion. At Solomko’s request, Zlob reached out to them to find a new truck and driver to take the film to Crimea — to “Ivan Ivanych.” The customer himself had been calling for several days by then, asking where his film was.

Later on in the interrogations, Bylin said he had spent many years working as a lawyer, then started trading fruit and organizing truckload logistics. He immediately got to work. Through his colleague, St. Petersburg-based logistics manager Vladimir Antipov, Bylin quickly found a new truck that would take the film to Crimea — and bring back goods for him on the return trip.

For helping find the truck, he and Antipov were set to earn 5,000 rubles ($62) each. As Bylin later said, all he did was call the first logistics contact he knew, and that person happened to pick up. This phrase — about getting caught up in the case by chance — is repeated by most of the defendants.

The phrase about getting caught up in the case by chance is constantly repeated by most of the defendants

Antipov fairly quickly found a new driver, 52-year-old Makhir Yusubov from Adygea. Antipov chose his truck because his bid was the cheapest on the market — around 50,000 rubles ($620).

Yusubov arrived for loading on Oct. 7. At around 10 p.m. he set off toward Crimea — to a customer who didn’t exist, at a delivery address that, in fact, was a random building in Simferopol.

The driver Yusubov and four other people in a nearby vehicle were killed in the explosion. The bridge sustained serious damage, causing a complete stoppage of traffic for a day. Fuel tanks on a train standing on the railway tracks on the bridge also caught fire. Private homes on the Kerch side sustained damage.

A few days later, another person entered the story as a defendant: Dmitry Tyazhelykh, an entrepreneur from Lipetsk. Tyazhelykh rented out mobile phone numbers, and it was one of his numbers that the mysterious Ivan Ivanych had used to coordinate the operation.

We know you’re innocent — just be patient

According to the case materials, after the explosion none of the future defendants tried to flee. Everyone went about their normal business. Even Terchanyan, who was on his way back to Georgia, didn’t rush to cross the border with an empty truck — he took on additional cargo and joined the queue at customs.

Moreover, on the morning of Oct. 8, it took all of the defendants several hours to figure out that the truck with explosives had been “their” vehicle. The explosion had disrupted logistics routes, and many of the defendants were busy trying either to reroute their trucks via ferry — joining a queue of a thousand vehicles — or to find warehouses for transshipment or temporary storage.

“We had no sense of any connection to what was happening. The news showed that something had happened on the bridge. But we were clueless,” one of the convicts recounts.

It was only when Federal Security Service (FSB) officers began calling them and operatives arrived to search their homes and businesses that they realized the situation was far more serious. Zlob and the Azatyan brothers were asked to come to the offices of the FSB and Investigative Committee. Terchanyan was found on his way to Verkhny Lars.

According to the convicts, Solomko was in the Kherson Region at the time of the attack. When he found out, he called the FSB himself and asked what he should do. “They advised him to find the nearest Investigative Committee office and ask to be questioned,” one of the convicts recounts.

By the evening of Oct. 8, everyone had been released, and on the morning of Oct. 9 investigators asked everyone connected to the truck’s dispatch — including even warehouse workers in Armavir — to come to Simferopol, where each was questioned again. Terchanyan was brought there as well.

“Then the head of the investigative team from Moscow came out and said: we have no complaints about you — you’re witnesses, you were kept in the dark,” one participant in the case recounts. “Everyone was asked to take a polygraph test, to remain in contact, and not to leave Crimea — and was released again. They thanked everyone a hundred times for their help.”

The head of the investigative team from Moscow said: we have no complaints about you — you are witnesses, you were kept in the dark

For the next few days, the “witnesses” stayed in a hotel in Simferopol at their own expense. Then, on Oct. 12, five of them were detained: Solomko, Zlob, the Azatyan brothers, and Terchanyan. In the following weeks, Antipov, Bylin, and Tyazhelykh were also arrested. Kovach was outside Russia at the time.

“This was a shock to us. A minute ago we were free people, and now we’re being accused of terrorism? But the investigators reassured us. They said we’d just have to sit for a while — a month or two. But there was no reason to worry. They let us call our families and tell them the news,” the defendants say.

“It was clear to everyone that we were being detained in response to the public outcry. Just a few days before our arrest we had seen a report in which [Investigative Committee head Alexander] Bastrykin briefed the president, saying that citizens of Russia, Ukraine, and Armenia had been detained for helping carry out the attack. We hadn’t even imagined at the time that he was talking about us,” one of the convicts recounts.

Over the years leading up to the verdict, investigators repeatedly told the defendants: we understand you’re innocent, just be patient, we’ll check everything, the fuss will die down, we’ll sort it all out.

What were the charges?

What the investigation found

The investigation was conducted by a team of 60 detectives. They questioned around a hundred witnesses (although the majority of these were residents of homes damaged in Kerch). The investigators also commissioned roughly 100 expert examinations, including studies establishing damage to the bridge, post-mortem examinations of the bodies of the deceased, assessments of property damage sustained by victims, and blast forensics aimed at finding traces of explosive substances on surfaces.

The official account of what exactly exploded on the bridge and how it had been detonated, however, appeared in the case materials only after an interview with Vasyl Malyuk, who at the time headed the Security Service of Ukraine (SBU).

What exploded?

“You get the feeling they tailored the version to fit the Ukrainians’ statement. The blast forensics examination, conducted two months after the interview, established exactly what Malyuk had described. Yet the case has many gaps. For example, Armenian customs stated that an X-ray could not have missed hidden explosives.”

Testifying in court, Crimean customs chief Alexander Krasnozhon also expressed doubts about the official account. When asked whether metal elements could be concealed behind film, he replied that it was impossible.

According to participants in the case, even the exact weight of the cargo is a topic for debate. The figure of 22 tons of construction film cited in the case materials is taken from the accompanying documents. However, the scales on the Crimean Bridge malfunctioned when Yusubov’s truck drove over them. Loaders at the Armavir warehouse, meanwhile, said the film pallets weighed less.

“We all basically expected that at some point [the security forces] would decide that the case was too flawed — no motive, no causal link. And that one day they’d release us from pretrial detention, or right in the courtroom,” one of the defendants says.

“Throughout the investigation, I kept hearing from the agents that they knew I wasn’t guilty, but they had orders from above to put us away. I said the prosecutor’s office would never let a case like this through — there wasn’t a single piece of evidence of guilt. The reply was: ‘It’s all been decided up there already.’ I didn’t want to believe it, so I didn’t. I kept hoping the court would save us — innocent people cannot be convicted, that’s absurd,” another convict recounts.

Guilty because they “could not have failed to understand”

In February 2025, the Southern District Military Court in Rostov-on-Don, presided over by Judge Valery Opanasenko, began hearing the criminal case. At the prosecution’s request, the proceedings were closed to the public.

As one of the convicts recounts: “The court sessions went on, and we just dozed off. Nearly a hundred witnesses were questioned, but none of them had anything to do with us. And the line of questioning was as though we were being accused of tax evasion or some kind of illegal commercial activity. Nobody was asked: do you have any connection to the security services? Did anyone offer you anything, recruit you, or give you any kind of incentive?”

“At the trial, my confidence in a fair outcome faded with every new hearing. Instead of examining what truly mattered, instead of ordering the necessary expert examinations, the judge was interested in whether I paid my taxes and how many times I had violated traffic laws,” another defendant says.

According to participants in the case, neither the court nor the prosecution was interested in establishing any facts. They were simply going through the motions. Solomko initially refused to testify, then at the end of the trial unexpectedly filed a motion to be questioned — but the court did not even bother to hear him.

On Nov. 27, 2025, Judge Opanasenko found all defendants guilty of carrying out a terrorist act on the orders of Ukrainian intelligence services. As evidence of guilt, the court cited the argument that the defendants, given their higher education and years of business experience, “could not have failed to understand” that something was wrong with the cargo — all the more so since it had a UA sticker on it.

Quote from the verdict

“When we received the documents, the wording was exactly the same as in the indictment. To everyone involved in the investigation, it was obvious that we had nothing to do with it. Everyone expressed their condolences and sympathy and said they had no power to influence the process. Any other person could have been in our place,” the defendants say.

Judge Opanasenko went even further. He noted in the verdict that all the defendants had committed various violations in their everyday lives — whether working without the necessary permits, underpaying their taxes, or violating traffic violations. He then sentenced them all to life in prison.

Quote from the verdict

Meanwhile, not a single customs officer, inspector, or security service representative was held accountable.

I am not a convicted criminal — I am a hostage of the war

The Insider asked the convicts how they reacted to the verdict and how they are coping with the prospect of a life sentence. We cannot specify who gave which answer, so we will refer to them as “the first convict” and “the second convict.”

The first convict:

We have been convicted of one of the most serious crimes — a crime to which we have absolutely no connection. And the people who put us in the dock know this perfectly well.

We lived for three years with a sword hanging over our heads. Living in that state permanently, a person becomes apathetic, burns out psychologically — all that’s left inside is just embers. The mind pushes away thoughts and memories of family, of life, of everything bright.

And so when the verdict was read out, we felt nothing at all. I think it showed on our faces. And whether it’s a life sentence or 30 years— it doesn’t make much of a difference. The accusation of terrorism and the murder of five people is itself already a terrible punishment, and a heavy cross we bear without guilt.

There is no sense that this is for life. Not because I don’t grasp the seriousness of what’s happening, but because I know I’m innocent, and my suffering and imprisonment is not the serving of a sentence— it is the external consequence of someone’s political decisions. I am not a convicted criminal — I am more of a hostage of the war.

What makes life bearable is the firm knowledge that the truth is on our side. For us to be free — even tomorrow — all it would take is for a court to issue a ruling based on Russian law. And given that the court’s decision was political, any release, in whatever legal form, would also have to be a political decision.

The second convict:

At trial, my confidence in a fair outcome faded with every new session. Everything was arranged so that I couldn’t defend myself. So the verdict didn’t come as a surprise — it was the final confirmation of what I had been told from the very beginning: everything had been decided in advance.

There is no sense that this is “for life.” And I don’t think that sense will come. Because I’m innocent and cannot accept this verdict as final. That is precisely what keeps me going. All my family and loved ones know this and support me. Before I encountered this system myself, I couldn’t have imagined things were this bad — that black is called white, and nothing comes of it. But the knowledge that the truth is on my side keeps me from breaking down.

Unfortunately, this judicial and investigative system has been built up over years, so there is no reason to expect an acquittal or any change in the situation anytime soon. I can now say unequivocally that there was collusion between the investigation, the prosecution, and the court.

All that remains is to wait and hope that sooner or later a competent court will emerge that is capable of delivering a truly fair ruling based on the case materials — rather than following someone’s instructions. In my case, there is nothing to look for to achieve an acquittal: it is enough to honestly read what is already in the file.

Sobyanin made the comments in an interview that aired on the Rossiya 24 television channel, as per Interfax.

Sobyanin, who heads the federal list of the Kremlin-affiliated United Russia party ahead of September’s State Duma elections, continued:

“We constantly hear talk that the entire economy must be mobilized, turned toward war and so on. But the modern economy is built differently. If there is no civilian economy, no taxes, no household income, the political situation will be completely different, and then we will not achieve success in the war. To kill life, to kill a normal economy, is to kill the country altogether. So these are unnecessary, worthless conversations by people who do not understand how a modern economy and a modern war work.”

The mayor added that modern war is fought “on two fronts”: the battlefield itself and via the maintenance of “a healthy, stable national economy,” without which victory is impossible.

Sobyanin’s statement came a day after lawmakers in the State Duma again raised the need for a mobilization-based economic model. Nikolai Arefyev, first deputy chairman of the lower house’s economic policy committee, said Russia’s economy should have been made a mobilization economy “long ago,” while Andrei Kolesnik, a member of the defense committee, called for a shift “onto military rails,” using a Russian phrase that means placing the economy on a war footing.

At the same time, in late July Russia’s Central Bank lowered its forecast for GDP growth in 2026 to between 0% and 1%, while the Economic Development Ministry estimated that economic growth slowed to an annualized 0.3% in May.

Additional pressure is coming from the fuel crisis: due to Ukraine’s sustained drone strikes against Russia’s oil refineries, output of petroleum products fell 21.8% in June year-on-year, while dozens of regions imposed restrictions on the sale of gasoline.

According to Janis Kluge, a researcher at the German Institute for International and Security Affairs, Russia’s war spending reached a record 5.9 trillion rubles in the first quarter of 2026, almost 30% more than a year earlier. The authorities’ earlier budget plans had projected a reduction in defense spending.

The hackers intercepted DNS and HTTP traffic on networks that use guest Wi-Fi login pages and redirected users through their own infrastructure (DNS is the system that directs internet traffic to the correct websites, while HTTP is the basic protocol used to load web pages). By posing as browser or operating system updates, the attackers delivered malware to victims. They also used ClickFix techniques — fake error messages that tell users to run a “verification” script — to trick victims into downloading and launching malware.

The attacks were detected not only in hotels, but also in conference centers and other shared venues used by high-profile visitors.

Several tools were used in the campaign. The main one was CornFlake, a remote-access Trojan written in the Go programming language. It records keystrokes, takes screenshots, turns on a microphone and webcam, and steals passwords and session tokens (which can allow access to an online account without requiring a password again).

A second tool, the PowerShell-based ChocoShell infostealer, targeted cookies, saved passwords, Microsoft 365 tokens, and Wi-Fi passwords. Operators controlled infected devices through a web panel called FruitStone. According to Microsoft, artificial intelligence helped carry out a significant share of the operations.

In the U.S. and the UK, Midnight Blizzard has been linked to Russia’s Foreign Intelligence Service, or SVR. The group typically targets governments, diplomatic missions, nongovernmental organizations, and technology companies in the U.S. and Europe. Its goal is to collect intelligence in support of Russian foreign policy.

“Midnight Blizzard is consistent and persistent in their operational targeting, and their objectives rarely change. Their focus is to collect intelligence through longstanding and dedicated espionage in support of Russian foreign policy interests,” the report read.

Anthropic and OpenAI assisted Microsoft with the investigation. There are also signs that the hackers are trying to infect Android devices.

Microsoft advises treating hotel, conference, and airport Wi-Fi as unsafe, using mobile internet where possible and avoiding updates offered through pop-up windows or Wi-Fi login pages.

Earlier, employees of U.S. defense companies and scientists studying nuclear fusion were targeted by Russian hackers from the Laundry Bear group, also known as Void Blizzard. The cybersecurity company Proofpoint reported that their email services had been compromised.

The German news program Tagesschau, citing NDR, WDR and Süddeutsche Zeitung, reported that according to a police report, an “unknown substance,” possibly of an “explosive” nature, was attached to the drone found by airport staff. The outlets also confirmed that the drone was located near the Ukrainian An-124, as Bild first reported.

As a result of the incident, airport operations were temporarily suspended, and aircraft, including civilian planes, had to use alternate routes.

After the airport was closed, another cargo aircraft was unable to land in Leipzig. It was diverted to Hanover, but while in the air over Leipzig airport, it collided with another unknown object “at an altitude of several hundred meters.” In Hannover, police recorded minor damage to the front of the aircraft. Lower Saxony police are treating the incident as a possible state security offense.

German news program Tagesschau noted that Leipzig/Halle Airport is a key hub for Western arms deliveries to Ukraine. Two years ago, a package exploded there shortly before it was to be loaded onto a DHL aircraft. And in 2024, explosive devices were found in packages handled by DHL and DPD. Related blasts also occurred in a truck in Poland and at a warehouse in the UK.

In connection with those incidents, Lithuanian authorities charged 15 suspects, including citizens of Russia, Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, and Ukraine. Lithuania’s Prosecutor General’s Office linked the incidents to Russian military intelligence. Five defendants are now on trial in Poland over a series of explosions allegedly carried out on behalf of Russian intelligence services.

Tagesschau said drone sightings near German airports have become more frequent, with 145 disruptions recorded in the first half of 2026 alone. 

The Russian state-controlled news agency TASS also reported the assassination attempt on Tkachuk.

“He is in intensive care in serious condition. Doctors are fighting for his life,” a source in the emergency services told the state news agency.

The Russian authorities have launched a criminal case based on charges of “murder committed in a generally dangerous manner,” which in Russian legal practice is often used when an attack, such as a bombing, could endanger bystanders as well as the intended target.

UralDronZavod, based in Russia’s Sverdlovsk Region, produces Upyr (lit. “Ghoul”) FPV drones used in the war against Ukraine. As The Insider previously reported, Tkachuk began developing a military drone in 2020. In 2022 and 2023, he and his associates used donations to build a workshop, with TASS calling Tkachuk’s project a “Russian startup of the ‘special military operation’ period.”

In less than a full year of operations in 2023, UralDronZavod reported revenue of 3.6 million rubles and even ended the year with a small profit.

Judging by production videos published by Tkachuk and Russian military bloggers, much of the Upyr’s frame is made on a 3D printer. Tkachuk claimed that by March 2024, the drone was 60% assembled from Russian-made parts. UralDronZavod was placed under European Union sanctions in December 2024.

The attack was the second in recent weeks targeting a Russian drone maker. On July 29, Andrei Cherezov, developer of the Ovod FPV drones, also used in the war in Ukraine, was shot in the entrance of a residential building in Tula, according to Russia’s Investigative Committee. Cherezov was wounded.

For now, the battle to succeed Trump is shaping up to be a contest between Vice President JD Vance and Secretary of State Marco Rubio. Judging by leaks to the media, Trump appears to be taking considerable pleasure in watching the rivalry between his subordinates take shape.

In February, the president was reportedly asking numerous friends and associates, “JD or Marco?” By June, however, he appeared to have put Vance back in the lead. “The president is now saying, ‘JD looks great, right?’” an anonymous White House source told Axios. Rubio, meanwhile, is reportedly being groomed for a role in a future Vance administration. That said, the balance between the two leading contenders could shift many times before the election.

Vance, still only 41, can at least plausibly claim the mantle of Trump's ideological heir, and he is expected to draw support from MAGA activists, younger Republicans, post-liberals, and the New Right. He would likely preserve Trump's coalition largely in its current form — meaning his greatest weakness is that he would also inherit much of the political responsibility for the shortcomings of Trump's presidency.

Rubio, 55, is a skilled administrator who has amassed far more formal power than Vance, simultaneously serving as Secretary of State and as acting National Security Advisor. On top of that, he has effectively become a kind of governor-general of Venezuela, a result of the Jan. 3 raid that captured Nicolás Maduro and flew him to New York to face drug trafficking charges. on Jan. 3. Rubio is popular among older Republicans, traditional conservatives, foreign policy hawks, and the party's donors. If anyone is capable of restoring a more traditional, institutional Republican Party after Trump, it is Rubio.

Unsurprisingly, however, his greatest weakness is his past criticism of Trump, which he now appears to be paying for with increasingly overt sycophancy. According to the New York Times, Rubio flatters Trump more than anyone else in the administration. At times, it borders on the absurd. One persistent rumor, for example, claims that Trump gave Rubio a pair of shoes in the wrong size, which the Secretary of State is supposedly expected to wear to work.

Rubio flatters Trump more than anyone else in the administration – sometimes to an almost absurd degree

Still, Vance seems to flatter Trump only slightly less often than Rubio — and he, too, has reportedly received a pair of shoes from the president. As for their size, no one seems to know.

In both cases, in fact, the contrast with their earlier views of the president is striking. In 2016, Rubio called Trump a “con man” and argued that he could not be trusted with the nation's nuclear arsenal. Vance was even harsher, calling Trump “an idiot” and comparing him to Hitler. Both now prefer not to revisit those remarks.

The public personas Rubio and Vance have adopted conceal far more complex backgrounds and political trajectories. Both men had to reinvent themselves in order to enter Trump’s inner circle, and as a result, if elected president either of them could substantially reshape Trumpism once the mantle of the MAGA movement is truly theirs. For now, however, neither appears to have much choice but to keep flattering the boss.

The story of the Catholic “children”

According to reports, Trump refers to Vance and Rubio simply as “the kids,” underscoring his patronizing and somewhat demeaning attitude toward his current favorites. Yet judging by their careers, neither man is much of a child.

Rubio is the son of Cuban immigrants — a maid and a casino worker. In his youth, Rubio spent several years in the Mormon Church before returning to Catholicism, the traditional faith of much of Latin America.

As a young man, he hoped to become a professional athlete and married a former cheerleader. Until his election to the Senate, he lived perilously close to bankruptcy. At one point, for example, he was burdened with roughly $100,000 in student loan debt. Only an $800,000 advance for his political memoir helped him overcome his financial difficulties.

Rubio was one of Trump's principal rivals in the 2016 Republican presidential primaries and even earned the derisive nickname “Little Marco.” Incidentally, while serving in the Senate, Rubio was also among the politicians who persistently pressed the government to declassify information on UFOs — something the Trump administration is now doing.

Vance was born into a troubled family in the Rust Belt. Over the course of his life, he changed his surname twice — first from his father's to his stepfather's, and later back to his grandfather's. He began his career as a journalist in the U.S. Marine Corps before graduating from Yale Law School, where he met his future wife, the daughter of Indian immigrants.

Vance’s memoir about his difficult childhood, Hillbilly Elegy, was adapted into a film before he entered politics. Vance later worked in biotechnology and founded an investment firm called Narya Capital, named after Gandalf's ring in The Lord of the Rings.

Like Rubio, Vance is Catholic, although he converted to the faith as an adult. He was elected to the Senate from Ohio in 2022 and completed his rapid political ascent two years later when Trump chose him as his running mate ahead of the 2024 election.

Vance and Rubio currently enjoy Trump's favor. But it is worth remembering that Trump has a long history of changing his mind about those politically closest to him. By the end of his first term, more than 90% of his top appointees had already left his administration — a record level of turnover.

Today, for example, Trump wants nothing to do with his former Vice President Mike Pence or with other former favorites, including former Secretary of State Mike Pompeo and former U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations Nikki Haley. During the first year and a half of the current administration alone, a string of senior officials have already lost their posts: National Security Adviser Mike Waltz, Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem, Attorney General Pam Bondi, and Director of National Intelligence Tulsi Gabbard. All of them started out as rising stars of the Republican administration before becoming casualties of political scandals.

However loyal Rubio and Vance may be, personal loyalty in Trump's world is merely a prerequisite — not a guarantee of survival. Favorites must remain useful, avoid provoking Trump's anger, and constantly adapt to his ever-shifting initiatives, which can change several times in a single week.

Reluctant rivals

Their status as Trump's favorites has forced Vance and Rubio into competition with one another, and the war with Iran provided an opportunity for those differences to come into the open. Rubio, a longtime foreign policy hawk and steadfast supporter of Israel, became the public face of the military campaign. Vance, by contrast, made sure that reports of his skepticism toward the operation found their way into the press, even as he continued to publicly backTrump's decision to launch the war. Whether as a reward or as punishment, Trump appointed Vance to the unenviable role of chief negotiator with Iran this past June.

In addition, Vance followed Trump in taking the politically risky step of criticizing the Israeli government, an act that many members of the American political establishment still equate with antisemitism. For example, Vance said that Israeli strikes on civilian infrastructure in Lebanon were undermining peace negotiations. Rubio, by contrast, continued to back the Israeli government even when his position diverged from that of the administration.

In any event, the ongoing, inconclusive conflict with Iran has not produced a clear winner in the struggle for influence between Rubio and Vance. Instead, the war seems to have strengthened both potential MAGA heirs — in the eyes of Trump, if not in the eyes of the electorate as a whole. Rubio was at the height of his influence during the period of active military operations, while the subsequent diplomatic pause brought Vance to the forefront.

The war with Iran has not produced a winner in the struggle for influence between Rubio and Vance

The conflict could also shape future fundraising prospects for both contenders — and for the Republican Party as a whole. Rubio is backed by traditional Republican donors, evangelical Christians, and the foreign policy establishment, all of whom support Israel for different reasons. Vance, by contrast, is more popular among younger supporters of the America First movement, where negative views of Israeli policy are becoming increasingly common.

These, however, are secondary considerations. The bigger problem is that the prolonged war has become a political time bomb for both contenders. By late July, only about one-third of Americans supported the conflict. That could make it difficult for either of Trump's would-be successors to fend off accusations of being complicit in it.

Successors by office

Whoever ultimately wins the 2028 Republican primary will have to deal with the legacy Trump’s presidency has left among more moderate voters. Many of Trump's signature initiatives have ended either in outright failure or in declining public support, political damage, and reputational costs for the party as a whole.

The sweeping tariffs imposed on imports from around the world were effectively dismantled by the Supreme Court. The mass deportation policy, which initially enjoyed overall approval, led to highly publicized immigration raids and the deaths of several people at the hands of immigration officers, triggering widespread public discontent. The concentration of power in the president's hands sparked large-scale protests under the slogan “No Kings!” Peace negotiations over Ukraine produced no results. Even the war with Iran turned into such a protracted and unsuccessful campaign that it became the least popular conflict in the history of U.S. polling.

Formally, both Rubio and Vance can claim to be Trump's institutional successors. Six former Secretaries of State have gone on to become president (although none has done so since the 19th century, and fifteen Vice Presidents have gone on to hold the highest office in the land (although the last time a term-limited president managed to help his vice president win the general election was in 1988, when Ronald Reagan was succeeded by George H. W. Bush). In any case, serving as Vice President guarantees neither election to the presidency nor even nomination by one's own party.

A president's personal popularity, in short, is difficult to pass on to a successor.

The Republican bench

The field of potential 2028 Republican candidates extends well beyond the two obvious heirs. It is still too early for anyone to formally declare their candidacy, but there are certain moves that often signal presidential ambitions, and figures other than Vance and Rubio are already making them.

For example, libertarian Senator Rand Paul has already visited Iowa and South Carolina, the first two states on the Republican primary calendar. Paul is one of the few Republicans who has openly opposed Trump's budget initiatives. In addition, former Virginia Governor Glenn Youngkin has also been making trips to early-voting states, including Iowa and North Carolina, while strengthening his ties with leading conservative constituencies.

Another Trump critic, Georgia Governor Brian Kemp, has been meeting with major Republican donors in California, Texas, and Florida. Arkansas Governor and former Trump press secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders is expected to visit Iowa soon and has already traveled to states like Tennessee and Texas. Senator Ted Cruz of Texas — Trump's last major rival in the 2016 Republican primaries — and Senator Tim Scott, currently the only Black Republican in the Senate, have also been actively promoting their political brands.

The weight of Trump's legacy could give candidates outside his administration a chance to seize the nomination in 2028

Former South Dakota Governor Kristi Noem could also enter the race. Before Trump accepted her resignation as Secretary of Homeland Security, Noem actively promoted herself at taxpayers' expense. And former presidential candidate Vivek Ramaswamy is running for governor of the key swing state of Ohio, while Ron DeSantis already governs another pivotal state, Florida.

Finally, two of Trump's former favorites — his first-term CIA Director and Secretary of State Mike Pompeo and former South Carolina Governor Nikki Haley — have yet to reveal their plans. The political burden that Trump's presidency is almost certain to leave behind gives politicians unconnected to his administration at least a small opportunity to secure the Republican nomination in 2028. For that reason, none of these potential contenders can be dismissed outright.

After all, more than two years remain before the election. Vance could lose influence, just as Trump's previous vice president, Mike Pence, eventually did. Rubio could even lose his position as Secretary of State, much as Rex Tillerson was ousted after serving less than a year in the post during Trump's first term. And even if both men retain their current positions, they are by no means guaranteed the support of today's Republican voters.

What is certain, however, is that the weight of Trump's presidency will shape how voters view any would-be successor. In the end, a presidential heir is determined more by political circumstances and personal popularity than by the endorsement of an outgoing head of state. However dominant Trump may be within the Republican Party, it will ultimately be the voters — not Trump himself — who decide the party's presidential nominee.

According to a report by local outlet Prospekt Mira, the price of gasoline at stations run by Krasnoyarsknefteprodukt, or KNP, rose sharply on Aug. 4 — from 67 rubles to 91 rubles per liter for AI-95, a common grade of premium gasoline in Russia. Prices for other grades of gasoline and for diesel also jumped.

“Prices at a KNP gas station just changed before the eyes of a Prospekt Mira employee… In literally one minute, AI-92 and AI-95 rose by 24 rubles, and diesel by 21 rubles,” the outlet wrote.

Earlier, on the evening of Aug. 2, prices at KNP gas stations in Krasnoyarsk had fallen just as sharply: AI-95 dropped from 91 rubles to 67 rubles, and AI-92 from 87 rubles to 53 rubles. Putin visited the city on Aug. 3. That day, traffic and parking were restricted on several streets, and driving schools were barred from holding lessons.

KNP explained the short-term price cut as the result of a temporary improvement in logistics and the arrival of additional fuel supplies.

Notably, a similar price pattern accompanied Putin’s trip to Irkutsk two weeks earlier, when the price of AI-95 at one large local gas station fell by 12.6 rubles on July 24.

The Krasnoyarsk regional government owns a controlling stake in KNP. In mid-July, the chain restricted regular sales of AI-95 and began selling it using coupons, citing instability in the wholesale market, along with supply disruptions. Some Krasnoyarsk gas stations had no gasoline available, while at some privately-owned stations the price of AI-95 reached 135 rubles per liter.

Russia has been experiencing an acute fuel crisis in recent months amid Ukrainian drone strikes on the country’s oil refineries. The campaign has managed to knock out almost half of Russia’s nominal refining capacity and one-third of its actual refining capacity. According to official data, from May to June 2026 the price of AI-92 gasoline rose 7.3% from the previous month, AI-95 rose 6.7%, and AI-98 rose 3.1%. Compared with June 2025, fuel prices at gas stations were up by 19.9%.

“Import-substituted” is the Russian term for replacing foreign-made parts and systems with domestic alternatives, a policy Moscow has accelerated due to Western sanctions.

“The aircraft reached an altitude of 6,000 meters and an indicated airspeed of 600 kph. The crew checked stability, controllability in various configurations, and the operation of Russian-made onboard systems. The aircraft performed well, and the flight assignment was completed in full,” Rostec said.

The Irkutsk Aviation Plant is preparing serial production of the aircraft, with the first batch said to consist of 18 planes. The Kremlin-aligned business newspaper Vedomosti wrote that the MC-21-310 has now completed half of its certification flights. Rostec previously said it planned to produce 36 MC-21 aircraft annually, with deliveries expected to begin in the second half of 2027.

Aviation expert Andrei Menshenin told The Insider that it is more accurate for now to speak of the beginning of the process of mastering serial production, not full-scale serial output.

“The first flight of a serial aircraft is an important milestone, but the program still has to confirm production stability and complete the remaining certification procedures,” Menshenin said. “This is an important stage because the aircraft being tested has already been assembled using technology as close as possible to the one that will be used for aircraft delivered to airlines. Unlike prototypes, this tests not only the design but also the readiness of the production line.

The serial configuration still needs to complete testing, receive all necessary amendments to the certificate, confirm production reliability, and transfer the first aircraft to customers. The plan for 18 aircraft looks ambitious. It is achievable, but only if there are no serious delays in component supplies and production.

The main risk today is completing the import substitution program. The MC-21 was initially created as a broad international cooperation project using a large number of foreign systems and components. After sanctions were imposed, many of them had to be replaced with Russian equivalents, or else sourced from new suppliers. This concerns not only engines and avionics, but many other systems, including cabin equipment. So the key question now is whether the entire supply chain can ensure stable production of fully equipped aircraft in the planned volumes. Risks also remain in completing certification and bringing production up to the announced pace.”

David Kaminski-Morrow, air transport editor at FlightGlobal, explained that the start of serial production is the point at which aircraft begin to be built to a single “blueprint” approved by regulators for delivery to customers. As he told The Insider:

“Aircraft manufacturers initially build prototypes which serve as test platforms and used to resolve issues or refine particular aspects of the design, including matters relating to production. As this work converges towards a final, acceptable design, it is not unusual for a manufacturer to begin constructing several ‘serial’ aircraft, once it is confident that any outstanding changes to the the design will be minimal.

The import-substituted MC-21 aircraft which has just made its first flight is a ‘production standard’ aircraft, which Rostec hopes will serve as the blueprint for the first batch of serial production – although, of course, the aircraft still needs to secure certification, the approval necessary before these ‘production standard’ aircraft can be delivered to customers.

The first flight of any modified design is significant, but this one is particularly important because it’s representative of the aircraft that Rostec hopes to deliver to customers. Much of the basic flight-test work will have been carried out by the prototypes already, and testing of this latest aircraft will focus on finer details to ensure that the aircraft is ready for the demands of airline operations. Not a lot of detail has emerged over the specific technical milestones, although Rostec said in May that one-third of the certification flights had been completed, which suggests a substantial amount of work still to complete. 

Certification is a complex process, and import-substitution means there are multiple new systems which have been introduced since the original MC-21 design, and all of this must be taken into consideration.

Certification of the MC-21 is the most immediate challenge – nothing will be delivered to customers until this is achieved. The next challenge will be to start delivering the aircraft, and seeing how it performs in actual airline service, and whether any teething problems can be addressed quickly and efficiently. Rostec will also need to ensure it can ramp-up production once certification is achieved, because there is a pressing need for capacity among Russian airlines, and Russian aircraft production rates tend to be very low compared with other manufacturers such as Airbus and Boeing. This will test the ability of Russian supply chains to manufacture systems and components in sufficient numbers if MC-21 production rates are to reach the sort of levels previously mentioned by Rostec and United Aircraft Corporation.

While there are 18 aircraft in various states of assembly, it is hard to estimate how long it will take before all of them are finished, delivered, and flying. Early-build aircraft also tend to be suboptimal (designs improve as experience increases), and the MC-21 is particularly challenged because it has undergone a lot of late changes that weren't originally intended, and the extent to which the aircraft will meet airline customers' expectations is yet to become clear.”

The videos are styled to resemble reports from major French news outlets including BFM, RFI, Le Parisien, AFP, France 24, Le Figaro, Libération, and Le Monde. Each ends with the same conclusion: “the scandal will weaken Attal’s standing ahead of the 2027 presidential election.” However, the “scandal” in question differs from message to message. As the bots variously allege:

• Attal said that due to Islam’s many prohibitions, there are actually “more homosexuals among Muslims than in any other religious group.” In response to the made-up quote, the bot campaign invented the following response from Chems-Eddine Hafiz, rector of the Grand Mosque of Paris: “An openly gay man is mistaking his wishes for reality. Perhaps Mr. Attal would like there to be many perverts like himself amongst Muslims, but that is not actually the case.”
• The campaign claims that the politician’s father, Yves Attal, died of a cocaine overdose in 2015 and that Attal himself suffers from drug addiction. One video alleges that police “documented offenses” committed by Attal while under the influence of drugs, but that the records were later destroyed. Addiction specialist Laurent Karila is falsely quoted as saying that a child of a long-term drug addict has “a 90% chance of becoming a drug addict.”
• Attal is falsely claimed to have Parkinson’s disease, “like the American actor Michael J. Fox.” According to the bots, this was “confirmed” by a leak from Paris’s Pitié-Salpêtrière Hospital after hackers supposedly breached its database and published 3% of its records, which happened to include Attal’s medical file. François Vidal, editor-in-chief of Les Echos, is falsely quoted as saying: “I was going to vote for him, but it’s now clear that Mr. Attal needs a rest rather than getting involved in political games.”
• The campaign claims that Attal “oversees candidate selection” at the Sciences Po Institute of Political Studies, shaping “a political elite loyal to Macron.” The allegation is attributed to a supposed former lecturer at the institution, Arnaud Boutté, while France 24 is falsely said to have “verified 5% of the information, and even that sample proved entirely accurate.”
• Attal is falsely portrayed as calling for undocumented migrants not to be evicted from vacant homes and describing the influx of migrants from Morocco into Spain as “a great blessing.” Le Figaro editor-in-chief Alexis Brézet is falsely quoted as saying that Attal is “a complete idiot if he sincerely believes these people will come to France to work rather than to steal, kill, and sell drugs.”
• The campaign claims that Attal’s father’s foundation has become “one of the largest private sponsors of the Israeli army,” transferring €24 million in 2025. Al Jazeera editor Ahmed Sheikh is falsely quoted as saying that the sum “would have been enough to kill far more than a thousand Palestinian children,” while Libération director Sonia Delesalle-Stolper is falsely quoted as accusing Attal of “hypocrisy,” claiming that “deep down he hates the Islamic world just as his father did.”
• The bots claim that the anti-corruption organization Anticor lost its accreditation because of an investigation into the use of Attal’s father’s foundation to “launder” funds that had been “stolen from military aid programs for Ukraine.” Le Monde director Jérôme Fenoglio is falsely quoted as saying, “Gabriel Attal’s father must be turning in his grave right now. He’s turning because his son stole billions, not trillions.”

The bots use some real facts as a framework for their fabrications. Attal is indeed openly gay and was in a civil partnership with politician Stéphane Séjourné for many years. As education minister in 2023, he did ban the traditional Muslim abaya in French schools. And the anti-corruption organization Anticor did lose its accreditation in 2023 — but as a result of a court ruling, with no connection whatsoever to Attal’s father’s foundation.

In addition, Attal’s father, film producer Yves Attal, did die in 2015, but there is no evidence to support claims that he died of an overdose. Nor is there any evidence that Gabriel Attal has Parkinson’s disease, suffers from drug addiction, or made the statements about migrants attributed to him.

The Insider has obtained links to the original posts and materials provided by the Antibot4Navalny project, confirming that the accounts which published them belong to the Matryoshka bot network. The newsroom is not publishing direct links in order to avoid amplifying the disinformation.

The campaign ahead of the 2027 presidential election

Attal officially announced his presidential bid on May 22, 2026, during a visit to the commune of Mur-de-Barrez in the Aveyron department. With Macron constitutionally barred from seeking a third term, the former prime minister and current secretary-general the Renaissance party is widely regarded as the president’s political heir. Within the centrist camp, Attal is expected to compete with Édouard Philippe, who announced his own candidacy back in September 2024.

The campaign against Attal is the first large-scale Matryoshka operation targeting France’s 2027 presidential election, though the network has repeatedly targeted France in the past. Earlier, it spread false claims about “leaked correspondence” from the hacked government messaging platform Tchap, falsely attributing to Armed Forces Minister Catherine Vautrin plans to turn Armenia into “a military foothold against Russia.”

What is Matryoshka?

Researchers use the name “Matryoshka” to describe a Russian influence operation that spreads disinformation on a massive scale through a coordinated infrastructure of bots, trolls, and anonymous online platforms. Its goal is to generate artificial information noise and manipulate public perception of events both in Russia and abroad. The Antibot4Navalny project dubbed the operation “Matryoshka” after the traditional Russian nesting doll: its bots conceal one another, while false narratives are propagated in layers across multiple platforms, making it difficult to trace the original source.

The operation itself creates large numbers of fake accounts posing as ordinary people, independent media outlets, and think tanks. These accounts publish dozens of posts each day, imitating local language and writing styles. Next, it launches identical content simultaneously across social media platforms. To make the disinformation appear credible, the bots use the logos of well-known Western media outlets and human rights organizations.

Captured deposit in Ukraine

Russia’s plans to fully localize the production of lithium-ion batteries by 2030 were announced just a couple of weeks after Russian forces captured the Ukrainian village of Shevchenko, which happens to hold the only major lithium deposit under Russia’s physical control.

Ukraine long considered this lithium deposit to offer real potential for development, with Kyiv’s State Service of Geology and Mineral Resources estimating the lithium oxide content of local rock at 1.24%. For comparison, major deposits in Australia, where lithium is also primarily extracted from minerals, have a lithium oxide content of approximately 1–3%.

Russia was so eager to seize the deposit that the first reports of its capture appeared as early as January 2025. In reality, however, Russian forces did not bring it under control until half a year later.

Russia was so eager to seize the deposit that it announced its capture six months before actually establishing control

Russia does not mine lithium domestically in quantities sufficient for independent battery production. Before the start of the full-scale war, lithium was procured from Chile (in carbonate form) via the companies Albemarle Limitada and SQM. It was then processed into lithium hydroxide before being re-exported. However, a few years ago this business shut down, and Chinese companies stepped in to help Russia build a battery industry.

According to estimates from the Conflict Intelligence Team, drones are the most lethal weapon of war in Russia’s ongoing invasion of Ukraine, responsible for 42% of civilian deaths (in 2025) and more than 80% of military casualties (2026). At the front, FPV drones are the primary offensive weapon and the main tool for controlling the “infiltration zone.”

As The Insider previously reported, Russia assembles FPV drones primarily from Chinese parts on a construction-set basis — an approach that formally violates Chinese law, since Beijing prohibits the export of military components to both Russia and Ukraine. FPV drones require electric motors, flight controllers, fiber optics, and batteries.

Russia is not yet able to produce certain basic drone components — lithium-ion batteries in particular — in a commercially viable, efficient, and timely manner. But it is steadily moving in that direction.

Growth in electrolyte supplies

Lithium-ion batteries use a specific electrolyte based on lithium hexafluorophosphate or tetrafluoroborate. The Insider found that in the first quarter of 2025, Russia imported more than 6.6 metric tons of lithium-ion battery electrolyte and tetrafluoroborate (expressed as electrolyte equivalent), suggesting annual imports of around 26 metric tons.

The share of lithium hexafluorophosphate electrolyte in the finished product is approximately 15% of the battery’s total weight. Assuming a typical battery weighs roughly 1 kilogram, 26 tons of electrolyte would be sufficient to manufacture batteries for approximately 150,000 FPV drones.

To compare, in 2024 Russia imported 9 metric tons of electrolyte and hexafluorophosphate (expressed as electrolyte equivalent); in 2023, the figure was 12 tons; and in 2022, it was only 4 tons. The recent growth may indicate a serious ramping-up of the country’s battery industry.

The main manufacturers of the imported products were the Chinese companies Huizhou Capchem Chemicals, Jiujiang Tinci Materials Technology, Weifang Tianyuan Battery Material, and Huzhou Kunlun Enchem Battery Materials. The suppliers were Shenzhen Capchem Technology, Shanghai Ginger Logistics International, Hainan Goodwin Trade, and Gensync Chem.

The primary Russian importer of electrolytes for lithium-ion batteries was Obruch DV LLC. Recently, electrolytes have also been imported by AK Rigel JSC, NPO Lenergomash LLC, and Uraltekhimport LLC.

Back in 2011, Uraltekhimport signed a contract to supply equipment for the project “Reconstruction of the Chemical Power Sources and Special-Purpose Battery Production Complex” under the federal targeted program “Development of the Defense-Industrial Complex.” In recent years, its main counterparty was Uralelement JSC, which is owned by the Tactical Missiles Corporation (through MPO Gidropribor Concern JSC).

In addition, Uraltekhimport also imported battery trays, along with cathode material from Tianjin Guoan Mengguli New Materials Science & Technology and anode material from Shanghai Shanshan New Material. The company also procured Shenzhen Hongrui Keji polypropylene separators and drying ovens. This list is essentially a complete set of components for battery assembly — the only missing items being aluminum and copper electrodes (which are presumably sourced domestically). In all other respects, the “localization” here is organized like a construction set: all materials and equipment are brought in from China and then assembled into a finished product at facilities inside Russia.

The fact that Uraltekhimport is specifically interested in drone-related equipment can also be inferred from the purchases of thin sheets of a magnesium (90%) and aluminum alloy, which are used in aviation to manufacture lightweight yet sturdy airframes.

Cathode material

Ready-to-use cathode material for batteries consists of a mixture of oxides of lithium, cobalt, and other metals. Imports of cobalt oxide intended for the battery industry amounted to 5.8 metric tons per quarter in 2025, against 400 kilograms per quarter the previous year. In other words, imports grew by a factor of 15 in just one year. The main buyers were Obruch DV LLC and Tradecom LLC.

In 2025, Russia brought in 93 metric tons of pure lithium hydroxide and 130 metric tons of carbonate per quarter. The latter was imported both as lithium carbonate for construction purposes (a cement-setting accelerator) and for the battery industry. Battery-grade lithium carbonate imports amounted to 80 metric tons.

The main manufacturer of battery-grade lithium carbonate imported into Russia was Sichuan Zhiyuan Lithium Industries Inc. The buyer was reseller company Promtorg-Invest LLC. Based on the approximate weight of a typical drone battery and the proportion of lithium in it, the lithium feedstock supplied could have been sufficient for several hundred thousand batteries.

Uraltekhimport and its partners appear to be attempting to work with primary raw materials. As for the production localization announced by Rosatom at the RENERA factory in Neman, Kaliningrad Region, this effort currently looks like it is in a relatively early stage of development. The company has purchased ready-made lithium-ion battery cells in South Korea from its subsidiary Enertech International (56 metric tons in the first quarter of 2025 alone) and assembled them into battery packs. Judging from the purchase of drying ovens from the Korean company Jktech, the Russian side appears intent on developing fully domestic production as quickly as possible.

However, pro-war propagandists add a caveat: the plant in Neman is “not yet” geared toward producing “defense-grade batteries.” The factory, they say, will manufacture traction batteries for electric vehicles and batteries for stationary energy storage systems.

In short, a sharp two-year rise — by a factor of ten or more — in imports of electrolyte and cathode material allows us to say with confidence that Russia’s battery industry is emerging, starting practically from scratch. Moreover, its actual development is, in all likelihood, even outpacing the triumphalist announcements of regional officials. One can only assume they are afraid of falling under additional sanctions before the production process can be fully established. 

The rules of mobilization record-keeping

Last month, at least three major Russian business publications — Business.ru, Glavbukh, and Rossiysky Nalogoviy Kurier — published similar materials. As The Insider noted, all of them provide detailed guidelines for employers on maintaining mobilization records in 2026, as well as information on how to respond to summonses and mobilization notices issued to employees. The publications also elaborated on the mechanisms of accountability for violations of the military registration procedure.

A Prosecutor General’s order issued this past May also introduces a higher level of military record-keeping accountability for HR officers and managers. The authorities have thus apparently decided to shift some of the responsibility for the mobilization effort onto employers.

The result of general anxiety

The experts interviewed by The Insider agree these articles are the business community’s reaction to the numerous reports in the media and on social networks that Russian authorities are preparing a second wave of mobilization after the State Duma elections this September. 

Mobilization in the fall of 2026? What we know so far

The Call to Conscience project notes that such messages can be interpreted as preparation for businesses or organizations but suspects that the recent articles merely represent “a response to the general expectation of a ‘new wave’ rather than any ‘insider’ information from businesses.”

Still, not only private companies are preparing for a possible new wave of mobilization, says Timofey Vaskin, head of the legal department of the School of the Conscript human rights group:

“I think it is obvious that businesses have started preparing for a new wave of mobilization. And not just businesses. If you analyze the agency’s data, you can see that government bodies, corporations, and institutions are also preparing for the draft. They are all bracing themselves for a new wave.

It is hard to say what is driving the activity of recent weeks and months. One can assume that government institutions received information from above, from higher authorities, that there is a risk of mobilization, and that administrative preparation is needed.” 

In the case of businesses, the explanation is simpler, Vaskin says. Accountants and HR professionals hear the same rumors as everyone else in society, and so the journals that exist in order to keep them up-to-date professionally responded to public sentiment by publishing updated instructions on military record-keeping:

“These are private projects, and they try to publish things that resonate with their audience. So I think their materials were not inspired by some signals about mobilization they may have received, but by their presence in the same information space as you and I. Their behavior is a reaction to the state of the information space.”

Based on the presence of such articles in business publications alone, emphasizes Ivan Chuvilyaev, press secretary of the Get Lost project, it does not follow that mobilization is set to occur: “Neither does this follow from the insertion of mobilization notices, or from the presence of the ‘Mobilization’ module in the registry, or from posts by pro-war bloggers. Are they testing the waters? Yes. Are they preparing? In that case, Rossiiskaya Gazeta would be writing: ‘the bill has been submitted for consideration, the amendments are such and such.’” And as the Movement of Conscientious Refuseniks summarizes the situation: “The publication of mobilization guidelines is the result of general anxiety and public sentiment. This idea is in the air. Job postings for mobilization specialists are a reaction of businesses to increased fines and general anxiety. Companies are trying to lay down a safety net where a fall is clearly easy.” 

A new wave

It is impossible to say for certain whether Russian authorities are preparing a possible second wave of mobilization. However, experts interviewed by The Insider point to several indirect signs. One of them is the hiring of military record-keeping experts by both private and public-sector entities. Still, perhaps the main sign involves changes in legislation, such as the aforementioned Prosecutor General’s order of this past May, which transfers primary oversight of military record-keeping from military enlistment offices to the prosecutor’s office.

Broader changes have affected the law on military service, but these have been in force since 2023. They relate primarily to the summons registry. As the Call to Conscience project notes:

“The registry is running at full capacity; reservists have been receiving summonses en masse since spring — you could call this preparation. But of course, we don’t know for sure.”

The bureaucratic machinery of the state is “undoubtedly” preparing for a new wave, says Timofey Vaskin, head of the legal department of the School of the Conscript:

“We can see this from the drills held several months ago in regional governments. We saw that mobilization notices began to be mass-inserted into men’s files. We see that men are being summoned en masse to update their military registration data. Various regions and government bodies are introducing minor changes to regulations and incorporating provisions on mobilization. For instance, there was news about changes at the National Guard. The Prosecutor General’s Office has issued a new decree strengthening oversight of military record-keeping. Either in the Sverdlovsk Region or someplace else they introduced amendments related to the mobilization period. We can see that the bureaucratic machinery wants to approach a possible mobilization fully prepared.”

Human rights advocates interviewed by The Insider also note that in recent months they have recorded a surge in requests for consultations on the topic of a possible mobilization. As Vaskin continues: “Private-practice lawyers in Russia are writing that they can no longer keep up with advising people in connection with rumors about mobilization, and that the number of requests for paid services is growing.”

The preparatory measures in and of themselves do not necessarily mean the mobilization campaign will be carried out — at least not in the way it unfolded in 2022. The Movement of Conscientious Refuseniks states:

“In general, we do not believe there will be a mobilization along the lines of the fall of 2022. Administrative resources will be heavily taxed by the elections, and engaging them to conduct mobilization will place serious strain on the system. In addition, over the past four years, numerous legislative measures have been adopted to make a similar mobilization unnecessary. But one should not completely rule out an irrational — from the system’s standpoint — decision by one well-known individual based on personal motives.”

Vaskin again sums up: “No matter how we approach it, the overall situation on the battlefield invites the conclusion that the state needs mobilization. It would address both the need for drone troops and the manning of combat units. The state needs to increase the number of military personnel, so from a substantive standpoint I have no arguments against [the possibility of mobilization].”

Why all the talk about mobilization?

When discussing a possible new wave of mobilization, government sources cited by several media outlets pointed to declining rates of contract enlistment in the Russian army.

In early June Janis Kluge, a researcher at the German Institute for International and Security Affairs, analyzed federal budget data and concluded that in the first quarter of 2026, a daily average of 800 people signed a contract — the lowest figure in three years. He also noted, however, that this number increased somewhat in the second quarter.

Nevertheless, journalists’ sources from various regions noted difficulties with contract recruitment. In late 2025, an extensive military recruitment campaign was also launched at colleges in hopes of attracting students by making promises of rear-area service and fixed-term contracts, supposedly for just one year. In practice, however, “special” contracts for students turned out to be ordinary open-ended contract service, as human rights advocates pointed out.

It is difficult to assess the degree of the shortage of servicemen in the Russian armed forces, but human rights advocates note that recruitment practices have become increasingly “coercive” of late. As the Movement of Conscientious Refuseniks explains:

“People are being recruited through the regular conscription (including by coercing newly conscripted soldiers to sign contracts), targeted raids on socially vulnerable citizens, and through a comparatively new practice — threats of revocation of acquired citizenship and recruitment at Temporary Detention Centers for Foreign Nationals. Would they be so active in doing this if the number of volunteers remained at 2024 levels? Probably not. After all, these recruitment methods come with their own costs.”

The Insider’s sources in the Call to Conscience project cite security forces’ raids in Penza (1, 2), calling these cases “a new level of coercion”:

“Before, the first to be taken were vulnerable people — the homeless, those with addictions, and migrants. One could say this signals a worsening of the recruitment situation. A quick scan of popular online forums shows that whereas one or two years ago some saw contract service as an opportunity for easy money, people are now aware that the risks are far greater.”

One area where recruitment can be assessed objectively is drone troops. In mid-July, Deputy Defense Minister Alexei Krivoruchko reported that 8,000 drone specialists had been trained in the first half of the year. However, previous reports suggest that the total plan was to recruit around 78,000 people for drone unit service — that is, roughly 34,000 in the first six months. In effect, the defense ministry has acknowledged that this endeavor failed.

“The problem is obvious, and there is no solution. You can’t recruit people into drone troops with money or propaganda. The only option left is to make people join — that is, through mobilization. That’s a fairly strong argument in favor,” says Vaskin. “The arguments against are almost all in the realm of political risks for the state: society will react negatively. But how this will manifest itself is hard to say.”

The effectiveness of mobilization as such still remains in question, especially given the experience of 2022, when the state swept up mental health patients and people from other exempted categories. Now, however, with new legislation in place — including the electronic military registration system — mobilization could become quite an effective tool, says Vaskin:

“The system will be able to easily identify men of the right age, with military experience and a military occupational specialty, in order to try to mobilize them specifically. Mobilization could work, but everything depends on how it is organized. In 2022, they grabbed whoever showed up. What will a new wave look like? No one can tell.”

According to the World Meteorological Organization (WMO) and the Copernicus program, Europe is warming faster than any other part of the world. Since the 1980s, temperatures across the continent have been rising at roughly twice the average global rate. Compared with the pre-industrial era, Europe's average temperature has already increased by 2.5°C, while the long-term global average increase is only now approaching 1.5°C. While in many parts of the world global warming is still often described as a problem of the future, in Europe it has already become a reality.

The rise in average temperatures is not limited to a gradual upward shift in long-term averages. One of the most visible and dangerous consequences of global warming is the increasing frequency of heat waves — prolonged periods of abnormally hot weather.

There is no universally accepted, strict definition of the term given the fact that what constitutes extreme heat depends on the local climate. However, the scale can be illustrated by the WMO's definition:

"A heat wave is a period of more than five consecutive days during which the daily maximum air temperature exceeds the average maximum temperature for those days by 5°C or more (with the baseline climate typically defined as the 1961–1990 or 1991–2020 reference period)."

The defining characteristic of a heat wave is the accumulation of excess heat during both the day and the night. When nighttime temperatures remain high, neither the human body nor the urban environment has enough time to cool down, sharply increasing health risks while placing additional strain on infrastructure.

Global climate projections point to an irreversible increase in the frequency, intensity, and duration of heat waves. According to the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), if global warming reaches 1.5°C — a threshold the planet is now approaching — extreme heat events of the sort that occurred only once every 50 years during the pre-industrial era will become 8.6 times more frequent. If overall warming reaches 2°C, they will occur 13.9 times more often.

Europe, where temperatures have risen by 0.56°C per decade over the past 30 years, is among the regions at the greatest risk. The latest reports from the Copernicus program indicate that extreme heat waves — such as the record-early episodes this past May and June — are becoming the new climate normal.

According to IPCC projections, by 2050 around 50% of Europe's population could be exposed to a high or very high risk of heat stress during the summer months, and the most severe impacts are likely to be felt in large cities due to  the urban heat island effect.

By 2050, around 50% of Europe's population could face a high or very high risk of heat stress during the summer

The scientific community has been raising the alarm about this for decades. European countries, it would seem, have had ample time to prepare for the new conditions. Yet nearly every major heat wave still turns into an emergency: mortality rises, homes overheat, transportation systems are disrupted, and authorities scramble to open cooling centers and issue public health guidance.

So why does a continent that is warming faster than most other regions of the world repeatedly find itself unprepared for extreme heat?

The problem is not simply the warming itself. The climate is changing far more rapidly than cities, buildings, laws, and people's everyday habits can adapt to. It is precisely this gap between the new climate reality and existing infrastructure that has become one of the main reasons Europe remains so vulnerable to heat waves.

Many solutions that until quite recently worked perfectly well in Europe's relatively cool climate have unexpectedly become sources of additional risk. Some of these challenges require large-scale urban redevelopment, while others can be addressed much more simply by changing daily habits, social norms, and approaches to organizing everyday life.

The inherited city

When discussing Europe's lack of preparedness for extreme heat, the first things that usually come to mind are the lack of air conditioning and the aging housing stock. But the problem begins much earlier — with the very morphology of the urban environment. European cities were historically shaped in a temperate climate, where the main priorities were protection from cold, wind, and rain. Today, that same urban fabric amplifies the effects of extreme heat.

Older European cities were built from materials designed to retain warmth. Traditional building materials — brick, granite paving stones, and dark roof tiles — have high thermal inertia and thermal mass. During the day, they absorb and store large amounts of solar heat, then release it slowly after sunset.

As a result, nighttime temperatures in the centers of Paris, London, Rome, and Berlin can be 10-12°C higher than in the surrounding green suburbs — a manifestation of the urban heat island effect. Under these conditions, people are effectively trapped inside a giant “thermos.” As a result, their bodies do not get the nighttime relief they need, leading to a sharp increase in heat-related deaths.

People are effectively trapped inside a giant "thermos": their bodies do not get the nighttime relief they need, leading to a sharp increase in heat-related deaths

For example, Baron Haussmann's reconstruction of Paris in the third quarter of the 19th century made the city brighter and more spacious while improving sanitation and ventilation. However, the zinc roofs and limestone facades that cover most of the city's buildings have high heat capacity and low albedo, making its historic architecture a major heat reservoir. Rooftops there can reach temperatures of up to 80°C.

The geometry of streets and historic city centers often makes the problem even worse. They were laid out long before the advent of automobiles, designed for pedestrian and horse-drawn traffic. Buildings often stand directly adjacent to one another, and the narrow street network creates an urban canyon effect: while the streets provide abundant shade, their narrow corridors also block natural ventilation and airflows that could otherwise cool the city. Sunlight entering these canyons is repeatedly reflected off building walls, concentrating heat at street level — where people live and move.

The paradox is particularly evident when comparing different parts of Europe. The narrow, winding streets of Prague's Old Town might seem ideally suited to shielding people from the summer sun. Yet climate studies show that in Central Europe this medieval street pattern works against residents: at night, urban canyons prevent heat from dissipating and trap hot air close to the ground.

In southern Europe, by contrast, the Moorish quarters of Seville and Córdoba were designed according to bioclimatic principles. Their narrow alleys are deliberately interrupted by wider openings, creating a Venturi effect — the physical acceleration of airflow that produces cooling breezes even on still days.

This natural ventilation system is complemented by a tradition of interior patios with fountains and the widespread use of whitewashed walls, which reflect up to 90% of incoming solar radiation. Spaniards also make extensive use of toldos — large fabric awnings that completely shield streets from direct sunlight.

In short, southern cities were originally designed as living, breathing environments that protected their residents from the sun, whereas many northern cities are now turning into stifling stone heat traps.

There are, however, positive examples. One is the modern approach to bioclimatic urban planning in the German city of Stuttgart. The city lies in a valley where hot air can easily become trapped. Decades ago, local authorities began preserving special ventilation corridors (Luftleitbahnen) — undeveloped hillsides that allow cooler nighttime air to flow into the city center.

Today, every major construction project in Stuttgart is assessed for its impact on air circulation. Buildings may not be erected perpendicular to nighttime airflow, while the surrounding hills are protected from high-rise development, allowing them to continue serving as the city's natural air conditioners.

The great paving-over

The centuries-old urban fabric of Europe's historic urban centers was further transformed in the 20th century by more aggressive development trends. Industrialization and the boom in automobile ownership led cities to pave over vast areas with asphalt, replacing dirt roads and green spaces with parking lots and expansive paved squares. Asphalt intensifies artificial drought conditions and also has a very low albedo, causing it to heat up to extreme temperatures under direct sunlight.

In 2025, a major study conducted in Lisbon found that cars parked on asphalt  (especially dark-colored ones) act as additional radiators. The researchers showed that replacing dark-colored vehicles with lighter-colored ones or installing shade structures over parking lots could reduce ambient air temperatures by several degrees.

Bringing moisture back to the city

The widespread paving-over of cities also entrenched a flawed philosophy of water management. For centuries, European engineers designed cities to be as dry as possible — stormwater was channeled off streets, small streams were buried in underground culverts, and rivers were confined within concrete embankments.

Today, these practices have deprived cities of their most effective natural defense against extreme heat: moisture. Because drainage systems remove water almost immediately, rainfall never has a chance to soak into the ground. In the most heavily urbanized areas, the share of impervious surfaces often exceeds 50%, and in city centers it can be considerably higher. This disrupts the natural water balance and dramatically reduces cities' ability to adapt to heat waves.

Many cities are now rethinking this approach. Berlin, for example, historically had a high degree of surface sealing, particularly in the central district of Mitte. Now, however, the city is implementing the Sponge City (Schwammstadt) concept. Authorities are deliberately removing old asphalt, uncovering streams that were buried in the 20th century, and creating "rain gardens" — shallow, vegetated depressions that collect runoff from surrounding streets, allowing the water to remain in the city and help cool it during the summer.

In cities with limited water resources and extensive surface sealing, there is also a critical shortage of trees and other vegetation. Greenery is often concentrated in parks but is largely absent from ordinary streets and neighborhoods, depriving most areas of the benefits of evapotranspiration — the process by which moisture evaporates through the leaves of plants. Because evaporation absorbs heat, it naturally cools the surrounding air. According to climate measurements, a single large, healthy tree can provide a cooling effect that is equivalent to several air conditioners (all while consuming no electricity and releasing no additional heat into the urban environment). Deprived of the ability to "breathe" and evaporate water, Europe's dried-out cities become vast reservoirs of heat.

A single large, healthy tree can provide cooling equivalent to several air conditioners

The problem is compounded by the fact that even open water in European city centers remains constrained by outdated engineering principles. Fountains and ornamental ponds were originally designed primarily as elements of urban beautification or as means of ensuring the water supply, but in order to have a measurable effect on the surrounding temperature, their surface area must be large — climate modeling shows that urban water bodies can consistently cool a radius of up to 400 meters, but only if their total surface area exceeds a threshold of 3.4 hectares. In other words, a traditional fountain with jets shooting upward — such as Rome's famous Trevi Fountain — does little to lower street-level temperatures.

Modern climate adaptation standards call for a complete redesign of such spaces, replacing traditional fountains with fine-mist spray systems or shallow reflecting pools. For example, the layer of water in Bordeaux's famous Miroir d'eau is only 2 centimeters deep, yet its vast surface area maximizes evaporation, while built-in nozzles turn the water into a cooling mist every few minutes, lowering temperatures across the square by several degrees.

However, because of bureaucratic hurdles, high costs, and historic preservation laws, European municipalities have been slow to modernize their most iconic landmarks, leaving their stone plazas to bake in the summer heat.

Wealthy green suburbs and overheated working-class neighborhoods

Many of these risks are distributed unevenly across the urban landscape, exposing a pattern of thermal and social inequality. Affluent historic districts in European capitals, while not immune to the challenges created by centuries-old urban planning, have long retained abundant trees, shaded courtyards, and parks.

By contrast, former industrial outskirts, social housing estates, and postwar neighborhoods were often built according to a principle of maximizing land use — with buildings packed tightly together and asphalt and concrete dominating the landscape. As a result, during peak heat, temperatures in working-class neighborhoods can be several degrees higher than in affluent, greener suburbs.

During peak heat, temperatures in working-class neighborhoods can be several degrees higher than in affluent, greener areas

Research from Europe's largest cities confirms this pattern. Analysts at the Bank of France found a strong correlation between lower incomes and residence in Paris's park-deficient neighborhoods, where heat stress is greatest. In Madrid, simultaneous temperature measurements revealed a striking 15°C difference between affluent, tree-lined suburbs and the city's vegetation-poor working-class neighborhoods. Meanwhile, NASA thermal satellite imagery showed that during the summer of 2023, London’s five poorest areas were, on average, 3.3°C hotter than its five wealthiest boroughs.

As a result, heat waves are no longer merely a weather phenomenon, but a spatial crisis in which urban planning decisions made decades ago leave some residents far better protected than others.

The winter logic of the European home

After escaping the heat of the city streets, people naturally expect to find relief indoors. Yet in many European cities, the opposite happens: during prolonged heat waves, buildings themselves become heat reservoirs, as much of Europe's housing stock was designed to solve the opposite problem: retaining as much heat as possible during the winter.

Thick brick and stone walls have a high thermal mass, meaning that during the day their walls absorb heat and then slowly release it at night. Amidst a prolonged heat wave, however, the entire structure gradually heats up to such a degree that it no longer cools off at night and instead begins to radiate the accumulated heat back into its interior. As a result, indoor temperatures may continue to rise even without any further increase in outdoor air temperatures, and the indoor temperature peak often does not coincide with the hottest part of the day outside. Imagine someone who has already overheated outdoors during an extreme heat wave, only to return at night to even harsher conditions inside their own home.

One of the most effective ways to reduce this risk is nighttime ventilation, but this is often severely constrained. For centuries, European architects sought to protect homes from drafts and heat loss. Later, this philosophy was reinforced by energy-efficiency standards: insulated façades and airtight windows became the norm. Yet the very features that helped people survive winter have proved poorly suited to today's hotter summers.

For decades, architects in Northern Europe did not regard the sun as a major engineering challenge. Panoramic windows and fully glazed façades not only improved natural lighting but also came to symbolize openness and modernity, while protection against overheating remained a secondary concern. Under today's climate conditions, however, this design philosophy has become a thermal catastrophe.

Designs featuring panoramic windows and fully glazed façades have turned into a thermal catastrophe

Ordinary glass allows solar radiation to pass freely into buildings, where it is converted into heat, creating the familiar greenhouse effect. Modern office towers and apartments with floor-to-ceiling windows facing south or west are particularly vulnerable. One of the best-known examples is London's financial district, where overheating in glass-clad buildings has become an engineering challenge in its own right.

In the Mediterranean, by contrast, a different principle has long prevailed: sunlight should be stopped before it enters the building. That is why modern buildings there use external shading systems, ventilated façades, and specially coated glass.

The same principle underlies much older solutions — wooden shutters, awnings, and deep overhangs, which have protected homes from overheating for centuries. By contrast, interior blinds in sweltering cities such as London or Berlin effectively become household radiators, trapping solar heat indoors and accelerating the overheating of rooms.

A striking symbol of this architectural vulnerability is London's Walkie Talkie skyscraper (20 Fenchurch Street). Its curved glass façade proved so susceptible to solar radiation that the reflected sunlight — dubbed "death rays" — literally melted objects on the street below. The building has since become one of the most famous examples of the problems associated with fully glazed architecture. Research shows that, as the urban heat island effect intensifies amid the rise in overall temperatures, cooling such office buildings requires ever greater amounts of energy.

In Seville, by contrast, modern office buildings are increasingly incorporating double-skin ventilated façades that leave an air cavity between the building's outer and inner layers, allowing air to circulate continuously and cool the structure before heat can penetrate the interior. One example is the headquarters of the Andalusian Energy Agency.

A regulatory dead end

Many of the consequences of these architectural traps could be mitigated with relatively simple measures. In many cases, however, the obstacle is not technology but regulation. Across Europe, historic buildings and entire city districts are protected under strict cultural heritage legislation.

This creates a paradox: the very rules designed to preserve the historic character of European cities are increasingly coming into conflict with the need to adapt those same cities to a changing climate.

One of the simplest ways to reduce heat absorption is to use light-colored finishes with high solar reflectance. In Southern Europe, whitewashed façades have helped keep buildings cool for centuries. In most historic districts of Central Europe, however, façade colors are considered an integral part of the protected architectural ensemble, and changing them without authorization — even to improve resilience to extreme heat — is generally not permitted.

Moreover, some architectural trends have only made the problem worse. While owners of historic buildings are often prohibited from repainting façades in more reflective colors, contemporary architecture has frequently embraced materials and color palettes that intensify overheating. In recent decades, dark gray and anthracite façades have become increasingly common in European architecture. Yet such surfaces absorb significantly more solar energy, becoming additional sources of heat in the urban environment.

Contemporary architecture has often embraced materials and color palettes that intensify overheating – including dark gray and anthracite façades

The final and perhaps clearest sign of Europe's inability to adapt is the crisis of artificial cooling. For decades, air conditioning in Central and Northern Europe was regarded as an unnecessary luxury. Today, it has become a basic tool for survival, yet the same formidable legal and infrastructural barrier stands in the way. Municipal regulations in Paris, Vienna, Prague, and Florence either prohibit the installation of outdoor air-conditioning units on the façades of historic buildings or require lengthy and complicated approval procedures. Attempts by residents to install AC units without the required permits often result in hefty fines and legal action.

This regulatory trap is especially difficult for people living on the top floors — such as occupants of Paris's famous chambres de bonne or attic apartments in Rome. Located directly beneath roofs that can reach temperatures of 80°C, these dwellings absorb heat from above while their massive walls warm them from below. Residents are left with few legal options: efficient split-system air conditioners are often prohibited, while portable air conditioners that vent through an open window are far less effective, require windows to remain partially open, and can place a critical strain on aging electrical grids that were never designed to handle such loads.

One might assume that allowing the widespread use of air conditioning would solve Europe's heat problem. But while an air conditioner can cool an individual apartment, it cannot cool an entire city. It is a local solution, both spatially and temporally. Widespread air conditioning increases electricity demand, releases waste heat back into the streets, and thereby intensifies the urban heat island effect.

In the end, Europe's heat crisis is the result of far more than the simple lack of air conditioning. The deeper problem is that its homes, streets, building regulations, and prevailing ideas of what makes a good city were all shaped in an era when Europe's climate was much cooler. Virtually every aspect of the built environment was designed for a climate that no longer exists, and adapting to this new reality will require more than mere technological fixes. Instead, in addition to changes in architecture and legislation, it also demands an adaptation in everyday practices. The longer those changes are delayed, the more each successive summer will become an ordeal for millions of urban residents.

Schulmann said the guidance is being distributed in Defense Ministry hospitals. She said the advice presented in the document advises against the sorts of behaviors practiced by senior Russian military officials who have been targeted at public and in their personal vehicles.

The document is titled “Standard briefing for a serviceman, civilian employee, and members of his family on actions to take upon receiving information about a planned assassination attempt.” It says the recommendations are based on the experience of security agencies and are intended for Defense Ministry and National Guard personnel who have received information about a threat of physical reprisals “from Ukrainian intelligence services.”

The authors of the guidance claim Ukrainian intelligence services obtain personal data on military personnel and their family members from journalistic reports, social media, and messaging apps, then study the potential target’s daily routine, travel routes, and place of residence before choosing a method of attack.

The guidance recommends that military personnel:

• Stop publishing personal information on social media and delete information that could reveal their home address or departmental affiliation.
• Change mobile phone numbers and physical phones, and only answer calls from known numbers.
• Change their usual way of life and even alter their appearance — for example, by wearing glasses, growing a beard, changing their hairstyle, or changing their style of clothing.
• Regularly change travel routes, avoid repeated daily routines, and stop using apps that record geolocation, including fitness trackers and smartwatches.
• Be cautious around people who appear repeatedly along their route and of attempts by strangers to photograph them or their vehicle.

A separate section is devoted to cars. Military personnel are advised to avoid using personal vehicles when possible, keep their cars away from home and under surveillance cameras, and inspect them before every trip for possible explosives. The guidance lists likely places where explosive devices could be planted — under the vehicle, in wheel arches or near the car — as well as possible methods of detonation: when the engine starts, when doors are opened, by timer or remotely.

The document also advises personnel to stop using delivery services, refuse packages from unknown senders, avoid taking elevators with strangers, and reinforce entrance doors while equipping them with a peephole, chain, and bolt. For those living on ground floors, window bars or protective film are also recommended.

Military personnel are also advised to acquire self-defense tools, including pepper spray, stun guns, or less-lethal weapons, and to practice repelling an attack. The instructions conclude by recommending that personnel familiarize family members with the guidance, conduct “situational exercises” with them, and determine in advance how to contact security officers to pass on information in emergencies.

Assassination attempts on senior Russian military figures

On the evening of Aug. 1, an explosion tore through the Moscow restaurant Balzi Rossi, where a birthday celebration for Russian Aerospace Forces commander-in-chief Alexander Chaiko was underway. Several people were killed in the explosion, and more than 20 were wounded; Chaiko does not appear to have been among them..

In June 2026, Lieutenant General Damir Davydov, head of the Defense Ministry’s Main Missile and Artillery Directorate, was killed in a car bombing in Balashikha, near Moscow. He was responsible for supplying the Russian army with ammunition.

In February 2026, an assassination attempt was carried out in Moscow against Lieutenant General Vladimir Alexeyev, the first deputy head of the GRU, Russia’s military intelligence agency. He was shot several times and wounded, but survived.

In December 2025, Lieutenant General Fanil Sarvarov, head of the Russian General Staff’s Operational Training Directorate, was killed when a car bomb exploded in southern Moscow.

In May 2025, Zaur Gurtsiyev, who took part in the capture of Mariupol before becoming deputy head of the city administration, was killed in an explosion in Stavropol in southern Russia.

In April 2025, Lieutenant General Yaroslav Moskalik, deputy head of the General Staff’s Main Operational Directorate, was killed in a car bombing in Balashikha, near Moscow.

In December 2024, Lieutenant General Igor Kirillov, head of the Russian armed forces’ radiation, chemical, and biological defense troops, was killed by a bomb planted in a scooter near a residential apartment block in Moscow.

In November 2024, Captain Valery Trankovsky, chief of staff of the Black Sea Fleet’s 41st Brigade of Missile Boats, was killed in a car bombing in Sevastopol.

In October 2024, Colonel Nikita Klenkov, deputy commander of the Russian Special Operations Forces training center, was shot dead in Solnechnogorsk, near Moscow, shortly after returning from the war in Ukraine.

In September 2024, Ukraine’s military intelligence agency said Colonel Alexei Kolomeitsev, commander of the Russian Defense Ministry’s 924th State Center for Unmanned Aviation, had been killed in the Moscow region. The Russian authorities did not confirm his death, and the pro-war project WarGonzo claimed Kolomeitsev was alive and retired.

In July 2024, there were reports that a car belonging to GRU officer Andrei Torgashov had been blown up. It later emerged that another man with the same surname had been injured, and Torgashov himself said he had not been the target of an attack.

The earliest high-profile case of this kind was the killing of Stanislav Rzhitsky, a former commander of the Krasnodar submarine. In July 2023, he was shot dead during a morning run in Krasnodar, where he was serving as deputy head of the city department for mobilization work. Russian and Ukrainian citizen Sergei Denisenko was convicted of the killing.

The outlet said the tankers are most likely carrying oil produced at Russia’s Arctic fields. Among the vessels currently waiting in the Kara Sea, The Barents Observer identified the oil tankers Jupiter (IMO 9397535), Vostochny Prospect (IMO 9866392) and Saga (IMO 9318553). According to vessel-tracking data, the nuclear icebreaker Sibir was in the eastern Kara Sea in early August, while the icebreakers Ural and Yakutia were in the East Siberian Sea.

After reviewing data from the vessel tracking platform Starboard Maritime Intelligence, The Insider found that, in addition to those vessels, the following tankers were also located close to one another in the Kara Sea: Pamir (IMO 9276028), NP Dikson (IMO 9255270), Hyperion (IMO 9322968), Liteyny Prospect (IMO 9256078), Ligovsky Prospect (IMO 9256066), Viktor Bakaev (IMO 9610810) and Jagger (IMO 9354301).

As previously reported, Russia is increasing liquefied natural gas (LNG) production at the Arctic LNG 2 plant on the Gydan Peninsula, with markets in Asia — especially China — seen as the prospective buyers. Moscow is also increasing oil shipments along this route, as tankers traveling in the north are not yet under threat from Ukrainian drones, The Barents Observer noted. Russia still lacks enough icebreakers, but it is working to expand the necessary infrastructure.

In December of last year, it became known that the Zvezda Shipbuilding Complex had handed over to a customer the first LNG carrier ever built entirely in Russia. Rosneft’s press service said the Alexey Kosygin (IMO 9904546), which can break through ice up to 2 meters thick, would be the lead vessel for the Arctic LNG 2 project.

As Anna Orlova, an investigator with the Arctic nonprofit Arctida, previously told The Insider, the arrival of the Alexey Kosygin will allow Novatek, the operator of the Arctic LNG 2 project, to export liquefied gas year-round, reducing technical risks and costs. Arctida experts suggested the vessel would transfer LNG to “shadow fleet” tankers that are unable to pass through Arctic ice.

“‘Shadow fleet’ vessels without ice-class capabilities cannot navigate the Northern Sea Route eastward in winter, so the only route for delivering Russian LNG to Asia remains either around Europe via the Suez Canal or around Africa,” Orlova said. “Using the Alexey Kosygin for the entire route would be economically inefficient, as most of the route lies through open water, where a vessel with a heavy hull like the Alexey Kosygin's is slower and less fuel-efficient than conventional ships. Instead, a ‘shuttle’ strategy may be employed, with the Alexey Kosygin acting as an icebreaker shuttle that loads at the Utrenny terminal and navigates the challenging ice stretch of the Kara Sea to Murmansk.”

Then, in February 2022, Radev predicted that it would only be a matter of days before Putin’s forces marched down Kyiv’s Khreschatyk boulevard. And after winning last April’s general election, one of his first moves was to veto EU sanctions against the Russian Orthodox Church’s Patriarch Kirill and Lukoil’s founder and largest shareholder Vagit Alikperov. In doing so, Bulgaria assumed the role formerly played by Hungary under Viktor Orban, who appears to have found a worthy successor in Sofia.

This is not necessarily how Radev and his entourage see things. “I’d rather draw a parallel with Peter Magyar,” said Slavi Vassilev, a former analyst turned prominent member of the governing Progressive Bulgaria (PB) party. Radev rose to power not because he promised a radical shift in foreign policy, but because he styled himself as a viable alternative to a corrupt mainstream personified by Boyko Borisov, the leader of the centre-right GERB party, and to Delyan Peevski, a shady tycoon who is in charge of the Movement for Rights and Freedoms (DPS) and has been sanctioned by the U.S. and the UK. Externally, PB’s official line stresses commitment to Bulgaria’s EU and NATO membership, albeit with caveats about national interest.

“Bulgaria won’t shoot itself in the leg”

“Bulgaria won’t shoot itself in the leg,” is how Radev justified protecting Alikperov. After all, the Lukoil-owned Neftochim refinery next to the Black Sea city of Burgas, the largest oil-processing facility in Southeast Europe outside of Greece and Turkey, is one of Bulgaria’s top companies. Sofia also bailed out Iskander Makhmutov, an Uzbek-born Russian billionaire, due to the fact that his Transmashholding turned out to be indispensable for the smooth running of the Bulgarian capital’s metro.

For the rest of the EU, trading a carve-out for Bulgarian acquiescence to the bloc’s 21st sanctions package, as well as the broader policy on Ukraine, is probably a deal worth taking. In contrast to Orban, Radev did not block the start of accession negotiations with Kyiv, and Bulgaria has gone along with the 90 billion euro aid package for Ukraine too (though in fairness, it was the caretaker cabinet of Andrey Gyurov, not Radev, voting “yes” in Brussels at the end of April). And Radev was prudent enough not to turn up in Moscow for the annual Victory Day parade on May 9, even if many of his dyed-in-the-wool Russophile fans would have applauded him had he done so. 

The “pro-Russian” Radev was prudent enough not to turn up in Moscow for the annual Victory Day parade on May 9

Symbolic moves such as keeping Patriarch Kirill off the EU blacklist cater to the latter constituency, largely made up of defectors from the far-right Revival (Vazdrazdhane) and from the Bulgarian Socialist Party (BSP, heir to the pre-1989 communists). To play to the gallery, the government is giving full-throated support to calls for direct EU talks with Russia and to restoring at least some economic ties.

Between Moscow and Brussels

All in all, Radev has thus far pulled off a balancing act. He is not straying far from the Brussels consensus but is nevertheless creating an appearance that he is doing everything he can to reset relations with Moscow — all in the interest of peace in Ukraine and in Europe, of course.

Truth be told, PB is still learning how to manage the above balancing act. In both the campaign and the immediate aftermath of the April elections, they pumped up expectations that Bulgaria would revise its course on Ukraine. On 9 June, Defence Minister Dimitar Stoyanov declared that Sofia was halting arms deliveries to Kyiv, and the same message was repeated by Radev, who added that Bulgaria had been suffering economic losses because of the war. However, the day after, the government clarified that sales to Ukraine, as opposed to donations from army stocks, were to carry on as normal.

Thanks to its legacy defence-industrial complex, Bulgaria is a leading provider of artillery shells to the Ukrainian armed forces, supplying up to one-third their needs in the first months of the full-scale invasion. Its exports through third countries are booming in a similar way. In 2025, for instance, Bulgaria delivered 22 T-72 tanks, 40 MT-LB tracked transporters, two HMMWV armored vehicles, one BMP-1 infantry fighting vehicle, and 38 D-30 122mm howitzers to the Czech Republic. The UK received 18 self-propelled 2S1 Gvozdika howitzers, three MT-LB transporters, and three BS-3 100mm anti-tank guns.

Chances are these systems made their way to Ukraine as well. During his tenure as caretaker prime minister earlier this year, Gyurov traveled to Kyiv to sign a long delayed defence cooperation deal with Ukraine. It has not been cancelled by Radev’s team. In other words, the image of a U-turn presented in some headlines does not fully match reality. 

Bulgaria is a leading provider of artillery shells to the Ukrainian armed forces, supplying up to one-third their needs in the first months of the full-scale invasion

Bulgaria’s attitude to the so-called Coalition of the Willing offers another case in point. During his trip to Paris to attend the July 14 Bastille Day parade, Radev declined to join the informal grouping’s meeting, dismissing the format as irrelevant to European security and saying that Bulgaria has no place in a coalition that is “insisting on continuous financial and military aid to Ukraine.”

But then, on July 15, Bulgarian Minister of Foreign Affairs Velislava Petrova took part in the annual Ukraine-Southeast Europe Summit in Kyiv, where participants hailed the Coalition of the Willing as “an effective mechanism for supporting Ukraine, including in terms of providing Ukraine with robust and legally binding security guarantees.”

All attendees bar Serbian President Aleksandar Vucic, who declined to sign the declaration, expressed their “readiness to enhance…participation in [the Coalition’s] work.” So Bulgaria is like Schroedinger’s proverbial cat: both outside the coalition and within it.

An “ally of Russia” without Russia

If Radev’s objective in all this diplomatic zig-zagging is to curry favor with Russia, he is demonstrably failing. Speaking to RIA Novosti, an unnamed diplomat from the Russian embassy in Sofia put it rather bluntly: “Bulgaria continues to be one of the sponsors of the Kyiv regime, supplying it with vast quantities of weapons and ammunition both directly and through third countries. It has also committed to providing logistical routes in the regime's interest, sustaining its resilience through supplies of energy resources and electricity, and expanding military-technical cooperation." 

Despite all of Radev’s rhetoric in support of Russia, the Kremlin still sees Bulgaria as “one of the sponsors of the Kyiv regime”

Radev is currently the closest thing Russians have to an ally in the EU. But judging from the tone of Moscow’s officials, they certainly expect more.

Moscow’s scepticism is something Radev can live with. He has scored points with someone who matters more: Donald Trump. On July 22, the Bulgarian parliament endorsed the stationing of tanker refuelling aircraft at the Bezmer military base. Radev was previously vocally opposed to U.S. military access to Bulgarian infrastructure — indeed, in May, he stated that refuelling planes had to leave the Vasil Levsky airport in Sofia if the U.S. continued to refuse to grant Bulgarians visa-free travel — but as of now, Radev has agreed to move them to Bezmer, in eastern Bulgaria, winning praise by Trump himself on Truth Social (even if no commitment on visas appears to be forthcoming).

Importantly, Trump’s goodwill gives the Bulgarian government some wiggle room on Lukoil Neftochim. Since blacklisting Lukoil last October, the U.S. has repeatedly granted waivers to the Russian firm’s Bulgarian subsidiaries, meaning Lukoil (or, rather, its Switzerland-based subsidiary Litasco) can retain the valuable asset, as well as its network of storage facilities and filling stations. Bulgaria is no longer dependent on Russian natural gas, with Gazprom cutting deliveries in 2022, but it is still entangled into energy trading networks centred in Russia. 

Radev’s prospects at home

Radev’s vision for Bulgarian foreign policy is based on the premise that juggling EU membership, ties with Trump, and pragmatism vis-à-vis Russia is a winning formula. He brands it as a defense of national sovereignty, alleging that previous administrations were run by “yes men.” But the substance is not all that different from what Borisov and Peevski stood for in their day, when the TurkStream pipeline was built in record time.

However, GERB and DPS changed their tune after the full-scale invasion — not least as a way to build a coalition with the staunchly pro-Western forces in the liberal camp around the Democratic Bulgaria coalition and Continuing the Change party. Currently, Radev and PB’s pro-Russian rhetoric, which blames Europe and Ukraine rather than Putin for fuelling the war, sets them apart from much of the opposition (Vazdrazhdane excepted).

For now, such talk is primarily for domestic consumption, and there will be more of it in the months to come. Bulgaria is heading into presidential elections, and the current head of state, Iliana Yotova, who served as Radev’s vice president in both his terms, champions the PB line. That opens space for the opposition — whether the kleptocrats or the liberals — to throw their weight behind hardline pro-Ukraine and pro-EU/NATO candidates such as Andrey Gyurov. 

Radev and PB’s pro-Russian rhetoric is primarily for domestic consumption

With a solid parliamentary majority, Radev is strong but not unassailable. The recently passed state budget stoked fears of rising public debt and, in due course, a hard landing in the economy after a period of consumption-driven overheating that saw the EU Council open an excess deficit procedure against Bulgaria. Radev has not really delivered on promises to wage an uncompromising war on institutionalised corruption either. Yotova might still win, but she too could find reasons to distance herself from an unpopular government. There is only one direction Radev’s ratings are likely to move from now on: down. Not because of foreign policy, but due to bread and butter issues.

In the 13 years since its founding, the AfD has not only achieved significant electoral success but has also tried in every way to present itself as an “ordinary” German political force. The party says it merely offers “a different approach” to certain domestic and foreign policy issues — without radicalism and certainly without challenging Germany’s constitutional order. Alice Weidel, AfD’s co-chair, describes the party as “libertarian and conservative.” Nevertheless, ahead of elections in eastern Germany, the AfD continues to divide the country. And yet, its “normalization strategy” appears to be bearing fruit.

An “ordinary” party or radicals?

In early July, the quiet Thuringian town of Erfurt took on the look of a major capital hosting a G20 summit: tens of thousands of protesters were blocking streets and clashing with the police.The reason was simple: the city hosted the AfD’s party congress, where the movement elected its new leadership and set its future strategy. Coincidentally or not, exactly 100 years earlier to the day, the second congress of the Nazi Party took place in nearby Weimar, where, among other things, the Hitler Youth was created.

AfD, of course, categorically denied any parallels and insisted it was a coincidence, saying the necessary venue was available only during that period. Weidel denounced what she called attempts “to intimidate the AfD and disrupt its democratic work.”

At the congress itself, the party leadership carefully swept unwanted topics under the rug. One example was a proposal by the leader of the party’s far-right wing, Björn Höcke, to allow activists from groups officially recognized as extremist to hold AfD membership. The decision was left to the new presidium, which will discuss the idea “as part of its ongoing work” — away from television cameras.

Delegates radiated optimism and openly said they were ready to take power at the first opportunity. AfD politicians are undoubtedly exaggerating their own potential. By speaking of a “road to victory” — a phrase repeated several times at the congress — they appear to be trying to consolidate their electorate and pressure wavering voters. The AfD has led nationwide polls for four months, but its current 26% to 28% clearly would not be enough to form a government on its own.

Germany’s “firewall” still exists, and none of the leaders of democratic parliamentary parties has allowed for the possibility of cooperation with the far right. The most dramatic state-level challenge for AfD’s opponents is in Saxony-Anhalt, where the party has consistently polled above 40% — putting it on the brink of taking power.

In the eastern German state of Saxony-Anhalt, the AfD has consistently polled above 40%

Despite the 50,000 people who protested in Erfurt against the far-right party’s congress, it is hard not to spot a new trend in German society. The AfD is no longer a party whose supporters avoid speaking openly for fear of disapproving looks from friends, neighbors, and colleagues. Rather, it has become a part of Germany’s everyday life.

In some eastern regions, it has even become a Volkspartei — the German term for a major political force enjoying broad electoral support, ties to different social groups, and a wide policy reach. Since the founding of the Federal Republic of Germany in 1949, that informal title has belonged only to two parties: the Christian Democratic Union, or CDU, and the Social Democratic Party, or SPD.

The AfD is no longer a party whose supporters avoid speaking openly for fear of disapproving looks from friends, neighbors, and colleagues. It has become part of German everyday life

The AfD’s “normalization” is accelerating, and five main factors are driving it.

First are the party’s electoral achievements and polling numbers. The AfD has repeatedly finished second in elections at different levels, won in Thuringia, and now leads in national polls. The argument that it is unacceptable to “ignore the will of a third of voters” is appearing more and more often in the media and in statements by politicians who previously did not countenance the AfD. The party’s successes are beginning to be recognized as an objective reality that must be taken into account in the name of “public calm” and “stability in the country.” This creates a temptation to “acknowledge the obvious” and to try to reach an agreement with “moderate” groups inside the party in exchange for dismantling the firewall.

Second is current data on the AfD’s electorate. A new Berlin study shows the party is no longer supported merely by “a group of radicals” and parts of the protest electorate that joined them. It now boasts a stable cohort of support consisting at least 20% of the electorate. Previously, these voters’ motivation was often negative — disfavoring the “ruling elites” more strongly than they actually cared for the AfD and its policy positions. Now, however, policy-driven AfD supporters account for two-thirds of the party’s current rating, and allegiance to the movement is no longer an eastern German phenomenon. A poll after the March elections in the western state of Rhineland-Palatinate, where the AfD’s position is among its weakest in Germany, showed that 32% of far-right voters supported the party because they backed its political demands. These data suggest that the AfD has built a political foundation capable of enduring for the long term.

Third is political expediency. The AfD’s opponents are finding it increasingly difficult to create coalitions without it, especially given that the CDU has also pledged not to cooperate with Die Linke (lit. “The Left”), which conservatives criticize for insufficiently distancing itself from the legacy of East Germany. The combined rating of the federal governing parties is now only 35%. In Saxony and Thuringia, minority governments are already in power —  forced to seek much-needed votes from other party factions. In Thuringia, the Cabinet even includes allies of the far-left politician Sahra Wagenknecht.

Relatively new forms of cooperation within the democratic spectrum — such as alliances between former irreconcilable opponents like the conservatives and the Greens — are not enough to solve the problem. Such a government is operating in Schleswig-Holstein, a region where the AfD is relatively weak and the state premier is the charismatic Christian Democrat Daniel Günther (who also plays a notable role at the federal level). But despite his popularity, the CDU’s rating in the state has fallen from 43% to 27% over the past four years.

In Thuringia, the state-level ruling coalition is still only one vote shy of a majority, which makes it relatively easy to “find” sufficient support for passing policy measures. In Saxony, however, it lacks 10 votes, making the passage of bills noticeably more complicated. There are lessons here for Saxony-Anhalt, where after the September elections the winner may find itself dozens of lawmakers short of a majority. This trend is forcing many conservative politicians to consider altering the “firewall” strategy of containing the AfD. They are faced with a dilemma: form a potentially better-functioning state government while legitimizing the far right, or face constant turbulence in state-level legislatures (while cooperating with so-called “communists” of the left wing).

Fourth is the behavior of other political players. The SPD, the Greens, and The Left remain united in rejecting cooperation with the AfD, but signals from within the CDU are less clear. The party leadership — chairman Friedrich Merz, secretary-general Carsten Linnemann, and the federal executive board that supports them — has not changed its position, continuing to view the AfD as a threat to democracy, in addition to being its main political opponent. At lower levels, however, conservatives are divided. Until recently, voices calling for a “pragmatic approach” to the AfD were marginal. But lately they have gained strength.

CDU Bundestag member Saskia Ludwig openly proposed “selective cooperation” with the AfD, arguing that such a move reflected “the will of voters” who vote “right of center.” Andreas Bühl, head of the conservative faction in the Thuringian state parliament — where the AfD came first in elections two years ago — says debate over a “new relationship” with the AfD is “correct.” His brother Markus is, incidentally, a Bundestag lawmaker from the AfD. Former CDU secretary-general Peter Tauber (who has close ties to big business), parts of the party’s business wing in Brandenburg, and a number of municipal branches in the east have also demanded some form of revision to the CDU’s position regarding the AfD. Party leaders have so far managed to “put out the fire” — for example, in Brandenburg, higher-level politicians adopted a resolution affirming commitment to the firewall — but it is hard not to notice the growing momentum inside conservative and right-conservative segments of German politics.

Analysts are seriously discussing the possibility of a split in the CDU faction in the Saxony-Anhalt parliament immediately after elections in the event that the party leadership refuses to cooperate with the AfD. Some lawmakers could even leave the faction and support a situational majority with the far right.

A new threat has also come from the far-left flank. Until recently, Wagenknecht’s party opposed cooperation with the AfD. However, Wagenknecht’s recent direct offer of “situational cooperation” to Weidel could create an even more complicated political reality — one in which a government without the AfD becomes impossible in the east.

Fifth and finally, the broader public debate in Germany has been shifting noticeably to the right, effectively “normalizing” many of the AfD’s unchanged radical positions. National identity, patriotism, Germany’s right to have strong armed forces, and opposition to migration and refugees are all now openly discussed in a very different way than they were a decade ago. 

The broader public debate in Germany has been shifting noticeably to the right, effectively “normalizing” many of the AfD’s positions

When visitors to the CDU website are greeted by the slogan “Stop illegal migration and effectively control borders,” and the government reports on deportations and supports narrowing the right to asylum, voters’ sensitivity to the AfD is noticeably reduced. After all, the party is essentially “talking about the same thing,” perhaps “only more radically.”

Strategy and reality

In 2018, when Merz was running for CDU chairman, he promised to “halve” the AfD’s rating. In 2024, as party leader, he repeated that pledge. After becoming chancellor, Merz named fighting the AfD among his top priorities.

The plan worked almost exactly in reverse. In 2018, the AfD was polling at upwards of 14%, which at the time seemed troublingly high. Six years later, polling institutes recorded support for the AfD at 20%. Now, in the second year of Merz’s chancellorship, the party is polling at 28%. In the 2017 Bundestag election, the far right won 5 million votes; in the 2025 election, it won 8.5 million. In 10 years, the number of party members has tripled. What went wrong?

After winning early parliamentary elections, in no small part thanks to right-conservative voters wavering between the CDU and AfD, Merz made systematic efforts to weaken his main opponent. For the chancellor, this appears to have become not only a matter of political expediency but also of personal conviction. Merz’s team used a mixed strategy that, by the standards of political science, seemed promising. 

On the one hand, Merz signaled unconditional commitment to the firewall. When asked about the possibility of any cooperation with radicals, he answered briefly: “Forget it!” The chancellor’s principled position and his clear signals that AfD politicians are not patriotic conservatives but populists operating on the edge of constitutional norms were supposed to appeal to right-of-center voters. Merz was not afraid to talk about his own mistakes and acknowledged the success of the AfD’s public relations campaigns in certain political niches, such as criticism of Germany’s migration policy and economic agenda. At the same time, coalition party speakers, showing little diplomatic restraint, attacked the AfD across a full range of sensitive issues, including the closeness of many of its politicians to Russia. CDU lawmaker Mark Heinrichmann called the AfD a “pro-Russian sleeper cell,” while his SPD colleague Sonja Eichwede called its members “accomplices of Russian interests.”

CDU and SPD lawmakers called the AfD a “pro-Russian sleeper cell” and labeled them the “accomplices of Russian interests”

On the other hand, Merz worked hard to seize the initiative from his opponents in the two areas most sensitive to swing voters: migration and the economy. The government passed laws restricting the entry and stay of foreigners, strengthened border controls, and simplified deportation procedures. Conservatives and Social Democrats actively sent the message that they, not AfD, could overcome any current difficulties (the economic crisis, the shortage of highly qualified specialists, capital flight, and excessive bureaucracy) by deploying their extensive political experience and democratic procedures rather than by resorting to populism.

But none of these measures produced the desired effect, and neither did a whole range of challenges that had nothing to do with the Merz government’s efforts to weaken the party. AfD’s rating continued to grow despite the party being classified as right-wing extremist, despite allegations that the leaders of its 2024 party list misused funds and cooperated with Russian and Chinese intelligence services, and despite revelations of nepotism involving the hiring of close and distant relatives for highly paid jobs in parliamentary structures. 

Merz failed to convince active and potential AfD supporters that he could respond to current challenges in the way voters would like. By trying to beat the AfD on its own playing field, the chancellor placed himself in a losing position. When passing laws, regulations, and directives, conservatives take many factors into account: their own values, the views of coalition partners, the feasibility of proposals, public opinion, and the legality of their desired moves at the national, European, and international levels.

The AfD operates without these constraints. When the chancellor spoke of changing the “appearance of cities” in the context of migration debates, he not only failed to score points with AfD voters (who are by now closely tied to the party and “choose the original,” as German political slang puts it) — he also came into conflict with his potential allies in the fight against the AfD. Centrists, center-left voters, and leftists saw Merz as an “AfD-lite,” while the SPD came under even heavier criticism for working with him in a coalition government.

Paradoxically, Merz directly addressed AfD voters only at a news conference on July 15 of this year, urging them to look closely at the government’s work and assess it dispassionately, regardless of ideological preferences. In practice, such an approach is unlikely to work due to the fact that AfD supporters are highly ideological.

Merz also has not gained allies among determined AfD opponents in civil society, who are calling for the party to be banned — or at least for a petition to be filed with the Constitutional Court to examine whether AfD’s program and political actions comply with the foundations of Germany’s democratic order. Such a filing can be made by one of three institutions: the federal government, the Bundestag, or the Bundesrat (the upper house of Germany’s parliament). The conservatives and Social Democrats have enough votes to gather the required support, but this has still not happened.

The CDU is not even ready to support softer initiatives, such as stripping the AfD of state funding or imposing a partial, regional ban — for example, in Thuringia, where the local branch has been classified as being the most right-wing extremist. The conservatives’ motives are clear. They fear that an application to the Constitutional Court could fail due to insufficient evidence that the AfD poses a threat, and that such a failure would only further strengthen the far-right party. Conservative voters might also punish “banners,” a label usually associated with the left. But the government’s passivity is perceived by the AfD’s core electorate as weakness — even helplessness. 

Finally, Merz has so far been unable to outplay Weidel emotionally or rhetorically. AfD is skillfully using the crisis, appealing to voters’ expansive reactions, dissatisfaction, and irritation with the situation in Germany and the world. A potential AfD sympathizer compares the party’s “colorful speakers” with the uncontroversially dry Merz, who is indeed fond of complex explanations. Weidel attacks the chancellor in parliament with deliberately simplistic charges: “Merz is fighting the opposition instead of fighting for Germany.”

“Merz is fighting the opposition instead of fighting for Germany,” says the AfD leader

Her faction colleague Bernd Baumann tries to instill in conservative voters the idea of Merz’s “pseudo-conservatism”: “During the election campaign, he promised us he would put an end to the left-wing dreamers. And what did he do after the election? The first thing he did was form a coalition with the left-wing dreamers.”

A historic crossroads

Germany’s current situation is not unique in Europe. Strong far-right parties have existed for decades in other countries on the continent. Their representatives govern regions, serve as mayors and have even entered national governments in six countries. Often, right-wing radicals have lost power, been forced to compromise in order to enter coalitions with conservatives and centrists, or simply transformed into more moderate political forces. But Germany has important distinguishing features.

The AfD began as a small movement of Euroskeptics, right-conservative university professors, and third-tier CDU politicians who no longer wanted to serve as a “right-wing lightning rod” inside their own party. A chain of events — from global crises to serious mistakes by Germany’s “classic” political players — turned the AfD into a significant political force. After a series of internal upheavals, the party moved ever farther to the right. Today, there is no longer any hope that Alice Weidel will turn into a new Giorgia Meloni. Neither her party colleagues nor the party’s voters, who have very specific expectations, would allow it.

Until recently, one common theory held that it benefited the AfD to remain in “permanent opposition” — criticizing the government, holding parliamentary seats but in essence taking responsibility for nothing. It is now clear, however, that the AfD is seriously seeking power. Its leaders are buoyed by success at a moment when public trust in the governing coalition has reached a historic low, the government has no clear plan to fight its main opponent, the economy is stagnating, a bloody war continues in eastern Europe, and a growing number of Germans are disillusioned not only with parties but with state institutions. A recent poll gave the AfD another advantage, showing that more than half of respondents support fully closing the borders to refugees — 62% believe those arriving in the country do not need asylum but are merely seeking social benefits.

The party leadership does not hide its intention to continue pursuing “normalization through elections.” Its most ambitious declared goal is to become the governing party after the 2029 parliamentary elections. In Saxony-Anhalt, the party will obtain power in one form or another — either through a single-party government, or through a situational majority in the event that no coalition can be formed. A party that leads a region, joins the Bundesrat, and sends state ministers to federal conferences can no longer be ignored: it automatically becomes acceptable to deal with.

There is no universal recipe for preventing such a development. But the government still has a chance if it recognizes the fundamental changes in German politics and can establish an open dialogue with society beyond comfortable offices, including with AfD voters and leftists. The AfD cannot be beaten with slogans alone.

Germany is the key state in the European Union — its political, economic, and now military backbone. A Germany with the AfD in power, standing on positions of national selfishness and isolationism, abandoning sanctions against Russia, threatening the cancellation of aid to Ukraine, and fighting against the creation of a common European security architecture, would cost the whole continent dearly.

The researchers examined job postings for seafarers published over a two-year period. Some of the ads explicitly state that employees were being sought for the Sovcomflot group of companies, but instructed applicants to send their CVs to an email address with the techshipman.com domain rather than the company’s official address at scf-group.com.

According to Kharon, nearly two dozen formally distinct shipping companies — registered in Russia, Hong Kong, the UAE, Oman, and the Seychelles — used these addresses. Each of these entities owned or operated at least one vessel under sanctions. Seven operators worked with at least ten sanctioned vessels each.

Among the domain’s users was Dubai-based Moonlight Shipmanagement, which oversaw 27 sanctioned vessels. St. Petersburg-based company Idas, which is not itself currently subject to Western restrictions, owns or manages ten sanctioned tankers. The techshipman.com email was also used by at least five entities within the Sovcomflot group, including South Fleet and Invest Fleet, which have been sanctioned by the EU.

Some formally independent companies shared not only the same domain but also identical email addresses. For example, the same address appeared in the documents of a Seychelles-registered company and the Russian company North Fleet, part of the Sovcomflot group. Three Omani companies owning sanctioned tankers also shared a common address featuring a name that matched that of the manager of all three firms.

The connection between techshipman.com and Sovcomflot had been identified before. In August 2025, Ukrainian firm Dallas Analytics published a letter allegedly sent by an employee of Sovcomflot’s fleet management division to the captain of a purported shadow fleet tanker. The letter came from an address on the techshipman.com domain. After journalists reached out for comment, Sovcomflot’s job postings featuring techshipman.com addresses disappeared from Telegram.

The shadow fleet consists of hundreds of tankers that transport Russian oil in circumvention of sanctions and the G7 price cap. The fleet’s owners and operators regularly change vessel names, countries of registration, addresses, and flags. The use of formally independent companies allows the real organizers of the shipments to remain concealed and enables tankers to be quickly re-registered after each successive owner is added to sanctions lists.

Sovcomflot is also under U.S., EU, and UK sanctions. The company has previously denied that its vessels belong to the shadow fleet and has described the restrictions as politically motivated. A similar system was previously uncovered by the Financial Times. In February, the outlet identified 48 formally independent companies using a different shared email server. They were linked to Russian oil shipments worth more than $90 billion.

The Insider has previously reported on other indicators linking shadow fleet entities to Sovcomflot. One article focused on the companies New Fleet Ltd. and North Fleet Ltd., which acquired ownership of some of the sanctioned tankers transferred to the Russian flag. The companies’ registered addresses coincided with the address of Sovcomflot’s St. Petersburg division.

The footage shows a tracked platform emerging from a building and performing several maneuvers. No visible weapons can be seen on the platform, and the video does not make it possible to determine the specific tasks for which the robot was being tested.

As The Insider previously reported, the Kurier has become one of the most widespread ground robotic platforms in the Russian military. It has logistics and combat modifications and can be outfitted with a machine gun, an automatic grenade launcher, electronic warfare equipment, and mine-laying gear.

Back in August 2022, The Insider published footage showing Russian military trucks entering the territory of the ZNPP.

The outlet’s sources at the time reported the deployment of equipment, ammunition, and several hundred Russian military personnel near the reactor units. Later, plant employees recounted how Russian military personnel had stored ammunition near the turbines and had access to the reactor unit rooms.

Article 56 of Additional Protocol I to the Geneva Conventions requires parties to a conflict to avoid placing military facilities near nuclear power plants (though an exception is permitted provided that military assets in the area are there solely to provide for the defense of the plant).

IAEA pillars for ensuring nuclear safety and security during an armed conflict also stipulate that the ZNPP must not be used as a base or depot for heavy weapons or as a basing location for military personnel capable of attacking from the plant. On July 30, the agency reported an increase in military activity in the area of the ZNPP and the Russian-occupied Ukrainian city of Enerhodar, describing the situation as a serious threat to nuclear safety.

However, experts interviewed by The Insider say that confusion remains regarding which facility was hit — the drone struck not the export infrastructure, but a floating terminal used to import gas into Egypt. At the same time, however, they say the attack may have carried symbolic significance.

What happened

On July 29, a drone struck the FSRU (floating storage and regasification unit) Energos Winter, which was moored at the port of Damietta. The ensuing fire spread to the nearby LNG carrier GasLog Salem. Energos Winter is owned by the U.S. company Energos Infrastructure and is leased to the state-owned Egyptian Natural Gas Holding Company.

Egyptian authorities said only that the fire had been caused by an unidentified drone. No group has claimed responsibility for the attack. According to Egypt's Ministry of Petroleum, there were no fatalities or injuries.

Following the attack, Iranian Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi said that the incident could have been an Israeli false flag operation.

"We all need to be vigilant regarding Israeli false flag plots and operations aimed at undermining peace in the region," he wrote on X.

Araghchi also stressed that Egypt is "an important friend and strategic partner" of Iran and that its security is of great importance to Tehran.

A source in the Israel Defense Forces, meanwhile, said the accusations against Israel were baseless.

Reuters reported that the incident heightened concerns over shipping security around the Suez Canal, one of the world's most important maritime trade routes. After traffic through the Strait of Hormuz dropped sharply because of the war in Iran, the Suez Canal became one of the principal routes for Saudi oil exports. Following the attack, the London marine insurance market expanded its high-risk zone in the Red Sea, and Saudi Arabia announced the creation of an international coalition to protect maritime shipping.

Why the theory of retaliation against Ukraine emerged

According to media reports (1, 2), two days before the strike, Iranian state television aired a segment titled “What could be the targets of Iran's retaliation against Ukraine?”

Among the potential targets mentioned was the port of Damietta. The presenters claimed that the LNG terminal was a major export hub supplying gas to Europe. Iranian state media also warned of possible strikes on infrastructure connected to oil and gas exports to the European market.

After the attack, Reuters reported that some analysts viewed the incident as a possible Iranian response to a Ukrainian strike on an Iran-linked vessel in the Caspian Sea. The maritime security analytics firm Windward reached a similar conclusion. In its assessment, the attack appeared more consistent with an independent Iranian operation than with an action by the Houthis. The company argued that the strike signaled an expansion of the conflict's geographic scope — from the Persian Gulf and the Red Sea into the eastern Mediterranean.

At the same time, according to The New York Times, two Iranian officials, speaking on condition of anonymity, said the attack was intended to demonstrate Iran's ability, if it chose to do so, to cause far greater disruption to global shipping and energy supplies. They did not specify whether the operation had been carried out directly by Iran or by one of its allied groups.

Experts: The facility that was attacked did not export gas to Europe

However, gas infrastructure experts interviewed by The Insider say the target of the attack was not export infrastructure at all.

Alex Froley, an analyst at the Independent Commodity Intelligence Service (ICIS), explained to The Insider that the object damaged in the strike is not connected to the port’s export infrastructure:

"Energos Winter is used to convert liquefied natural gas back into its gaseous form before feeding it into Egypt's gas transmission system for Egyptian consumers. GasLog Salem was intended to serve as additional floating LNG storage to support imports through Energos Winter.”

Froley emphasized that the facility that liquefies natural gas for export is a completely separate installation.

Anne-Sophie Corbeau, a research scholar at Columbia University's Center on Global Energy Policy, reached the same conclusion, saying that Damietta is home to two separate LNG facilities that are often confused:

"Energos Winter is an import terminal. Egypt has become a major LNG importer because of declining domestic gas production. This facility does not export LNG."

Corbeau told The Insider that a separate onshore LNG export plant, commissioned in 2005, is located nearby. Its design capacity is about 5.2 million metric tons per year — the same figure cited by Iranian media. However, she said the export plant is currently largely idle:

"Because of problems with domestic gas production, the export terminal is barely being used — there have been no LNG export shipments from it since 2024."

As a result, she said, the attack could not have had a direct impact on gas supplies to Europe:

"This attack has no direct or immediate impact on Europe because it was the import terminal that was targeted. The consequences are felt primarily by Egypt, which now faces greater difficulties importing LNG."

Corbeau's assessment is indirectly supported by Reuters, which noted that Egypt is no longer a major exporter of natural gas. As a result, the attack is unlikely to have the same impact on global energy markets as similar incidents elsewhere in the Middle East.

But the strike may still have carried a political message

At the same time, Corbeau does not rule out the idea that the strike carried symbolic significance.

According to her, development of Cyprus's Cronos gas field was recently announced, with production expected to begin in 2028. Once output starts, the gas is expected to be exported through the onshore LNG plant at Damietta — "so this could potentially have been a signal."

At the same time, she stressed that it is still impossible to draw conclusions about the motives of those behind the attack.

Three July guides

Business.ru published its article on July 7,Glavbukh followed on July 24, and Russian Tax Courier ran its version on July 27. All three publications are aimed at administrative personnel responsible for military record-keeping within civilian organizations.

The Glavbukh article is titled “Order of Conscription During Mobilization.” It directly addresses employers, explaining “How employers should maintain mobilization records in 2026” and includes sample orders, notifications, and military registration cards. The article is an updated version of a publication first released on September 22, 2022 — the day after Vladimir Putin’s first decree announcing a partial mobilization was issued.

The Russian Tax Courier article is likewise titled “Order of Conscription During Mobilization” and similarly instructs HR personnel and accountants on how to properly maintain military records and accommodate employees who have received draft notices and mobilization orders. The Business.ru article, “Mobilization Order,” is aimed at owners of small and medium-sized businesses and contains detailed guidance on how employers should verify employees' mobilization orders and monitor compliance.

What makes these publications unusual is that outlets specializing in explaining newly adopted laws, regulations, and accounting changes published these guides despite the lack of any relevant legislative developments. Over the past year, no direct legislative changes have been made to the legal framework governing mobilization orders. Since May 2025, the electronic draft notice registry has been operational, allowing employers to request information about employees, and the last notable development in the state Duma occurred last October, when the government's legislative commission approved a bill allowing reservists to be called up in peacetime “to perform tasks during counterterrorism operations or when the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation are deployed outside Russia.”

Pressure on employers as a tool of mobilization

An indirect indication that the government has decided to shift part of the responsibility for implementing future mobilization onto employers is the detailed system of penalties provided for violations of military record-keeping requirements. Business.ru provides the most comprehensive list, which includes:

• A fine of 40,000–50,000 rubles ($520–650) for failing to notify the military enlistment office when a liable-for-service employee is hired or dismissed by the person responsible for military records within the company (Article 21.4 of the Russian Code of Administrative Offenses).
• A fine of 40,000–50,000 rubles ($520–650) for company officials and 350,000–400,000 rubles ($4,550–5,200) for legal entities if a company representative fails to deliver a draft notice or mobilization order to an employee, fails to notify the employee of a summons to the military enlistment office, or fails to create the conditions necessary for the employee to appear there (Article 21.2 of the Russian Code of Administrative Offenses).
• A fine of 60,000–80,000 rubles ($780–1,040) for company officials and 350,000–400,000 rubles ($4,550–5,200) for legal entities if an employer assists an employee in evading mobilization or fails to cooperate with the military enlistment office in organizing the draft.
• A fine of up to 500,000 rubles ($6,500) for violations of military record-keeping rules within an organization.

Notably, since this spring HR personnel, accounting departments, and company executives have been subject to a higher level of responsibility for maintaining military records. This follows from a new order issued by the Prosecutor General's Office dated May 12, 2026 and titled “On the Organization of Prosecutorial Oversight over Compliance with Legislation in the Sphere of Military Registration and Conscription of Citizens for Military Service.”

The new order shifts primary oversight of military record-keeping from military enlistment offices to prosecutors. Whereas inspections by enlistment offices were previously sporadic and typically carried out in response to complaints or notable violations, prosecutors are now empowered to initiate inspections independently and oversee the entire system — from the establishment of military registration offices within companies to employers' assistance in delivering draft notices and ensuring employees report to military enlistment offices.

Another indirect sign of preparations for mobilization may be the growing number of job openings related to military record-keeping. On July 31, the publication Agentstvo noted that Russian companies had posted more than 2,500 vacancies involving responsibilities focused on “mobilization preparedness,” “military record-keeping,” or “mobilization departments.” Nearly 1,300 of those vacancies had been posted on the HeadHunter website during the previous week alone.

Order of conscription by military rank and age

The publications state that reservists and people holding mobilization orders are called up first. A mobilization order is a special insert placed inside a military ID card that has no expiration date; a stamp indicates the date of issuance, the unit number, and the signature of the military commissar.

There are two types of mobilization orders. The pink (red) version is issued to people subject to mobilization and consists of a main section and two control coupons (the first is collected at the assembly point and the second at the military unit). The white version is issued to people assigned to mobilization support work for up to 10 days and contains one control coupon. The order specifies the unit number, the title and code of the military position, the military rank, and the time and place where the person must report. Once mobilization is declared, anyone holding such an order is required to report to the designated location.

The overall system of call-up priority divides reservists into three categories (or waves). Those who are younger, physically fitter, and have served more recently are called up first. The Insider provides the following table based on the current version of the federal law “On Military Duty and Military Service.”

Information on how to avoid conscription or leave Russia can be obtained from the following organizations:

• Idite Lesom (“Get Lost”) helps Russians avoid being sent to war by providing legal and psychological assistance and helping people leave the country.
• The Movement of Conscientious Objectors to Military Service (DSO) specializes in lawful ways of avoiding conscription, including alternative civilian service, and provides consultations for conscripts.
• School of the Conscript is a human rights organization that advises conscripts on issues related to military service, deferments, medical examinations, and the protection of their rights.

CMS Administrator Mehmet Oz said ending the subsidies would prevent billions of taxpayer dollars from being directed to insurance companies. The program cost the agency about $3.6 billion in 2026. According to Oz, premiums for most Medicare beneficiaries will increase by less than $10 per month. Democrats criticized the decision as representing part of a broader trend toward making healthcare more expensive, citing cuts to Medicaid spending and the expiration of Affordable Care Act health insurance subsidies as other examples.

A. Mark Fendrick, MD, a primary care physician and the director of the University of Michigan's Center for Value-Based Insurance Design has studied the effects of healthcare costs on patient behavior for four decades. As he told The Insider, the policy will primarily affect Medicare beneficiaries enrolled in stand-alone prescription drug plans rather than those in Medicare Advantage. He said higher premiums are likely to encourage some people to switch to Medicare Advantage plans:

“As was the case with the 2025 expiration of the enhanced subsidies for ACA marketplace plan that led to higher health plan premiums, the end of this temporary program, known as the Part D Premium Stabilization Demonstration, will require many of the roughly 25 million Medicare beneficiaries who enroll in stand-alone Medicare drug plans (those not associated with Medicare Advantage plans) to most likely pay more for their prescription drug coverage starting in January 2027.

The primary rationale is likely due to a desire to lower federal spending and the Administration's perspective that Medicare beneficiaries were not receiving the entirety of the subsidies — instead, the funds were going to the plans.

Any policy that raises premiums to a greater extent for stand-alone Part D plans than for those associated with Medicare Advantage plans would lead to a shift of people from traditional Medicare into lower cost Medicare Advantage Plans.  The lower premiums, reduced copayments for medical services, and supplemental benefits (e.g. vision and dental coverage) provided by MA plans are an attractive feature for those on a fixed income. However, these lower costs may come at a non-financial price — such as fewer choices of clinicians plus prior authorization requirements for certain services.”

Premiums will not actually change until 2027, but in mid-to-late September CMS will release the 2027 plans, premiums, and drug formularies. Because the annual enrollment period runs from Oct. 15 through Dec. 7, many beneficiaries will learn about the higher premiums before Election Day in November.

Citing witnesses, the publication RusNews reported that the phones and passports of performers and audience members were seized. Women were later released, while men were stripped and forced to lie on the floor for several hours. Security forces checked their tattoos and marked some of them with the words “f***ot” or “fascist.” “People were kept in the club until the middle of the night. Those with tattoos of Baphomet” — a goat-headed occult symbol — “had ‘f***ot’ written on them. Those with runes got ‘fascist,’” Yekaterina (name changed), a metal band manager and acquaintance of some of the victims, told The Insider.

One of the officers involved in the raid introduced himself as a military enlistment official. The detainees were brought to him one by one and offered the chance to go fight in Russia’s war against Ukraine. One concertgoer was a U.S. citizen; he was forced to say on video that he loves Russia.

According to RusNews, some men had their long hair — a common attribute of black metal fans — cut off. Yekaterina told The Insider that some had their beards shaved as well. “In the spirit of Peter the Great,” she said, referring to the Russian tsar who famously forced the empire’s nobles to shave their beards as part of his Westernizing reforms.

Some men had their long hair cut off — a common attribute of black metal fans. There were also reports that beards were shaved off

The official version was presented by the Kremlin-controlled news agency RIA Novosti: “A concert by right-wing radical groups called ‘Funeral of Winter’ was stopped. It was organized by the Yaroslavl nationalist music-adjacent group VLSKVLT.” Of the 130 people present, 23 were detained.

Rock poet and producer Alexander Yelin said the events reminded him of the late Soviet period. “I remember how in 1986, when I was organizing concerts, the cops really did consider all rockers fascists. Now the old men quickly remembered what it was like in the 1980s,” he said.

Unwanted concerts

The Yaroslavl incident was the harshest example, but it is far from the only Russian concert to have been broken up by the police over the past year. A month earlier, on Feb. 7, security forces raided Moscow’s Eclipse club during a performance by the black metal band “Nechist” (loosely translated as “Evil Spirits”). Ten people at the event were detained, with state-aligned media reporting that the “security forces disrupted a gathering of Satanists.”

“It feels like everything in Moscow is so calm and cloudless that the security services have absolutely nothing to do. There is no other work, so they have to launch a ‘witch hunt’ and catch men nearing 50 at underground rock concerts for the crowd’s amusement,” Sergei “Lazar” Atrashkevich, guitarist for the popular metal band Arkona, wrote of the incident. He later either deleted or hid the post.

Many commenters said the security forces had intended to disrupt a different event but went through the wrong door. Musician Igor (name changed) confirmed that account to The Insider, saying that a “gothic ball” was supposed to take place in a neighboring hall at the same club and was targeted over alleged “LGBT propaganda.”

“The organizers canceled the ball in advance, but the cops still needed to fight LGBT people, so they broke up the concert. As a result, that propaganda allegation, not Satanism, was written into the reports. As far as I know, one of the organizers was badly beaten at Eclipse. An acquaintance of mine was on her way to the concert but was a little late. By then there were flashing police lights everywhere, and no one was being let inside,” he said.

Before that, there had been a series of raids on punk concerts. On Jan. 6, Moscow police broke up Harvest Fest at the MO[TRI] bar (also known as “Motyga”). Witnesses said people were forced face down on the floor, their phones were checked for subscriptions to “undesirable” channels, and several visitors were beaten.

In 2025, law enforcement raided punk concerts in Yekaterinburg three times, disrupting a music festival at the Syndrome bar that May. “They checked everyone’s documents, messengers on their phones, tattoos, and asked about their attitude toward left-radical movements and the ‘special military operation,’” human rights project OVD-Info reported.

In June, police broke up another concert at the same venue. In July, they raided the New Bar club, this time joined by representatives of the right-wing radical movement Russkaya Obshchina (Russian Community). Guests were asked about their views on the war in Ukraine and on LGBTQ+ people.

Punks appear to be targeted not for their appearance but as potential supporters of the political. They were not given haircuts or threatened with fines over symbols, but their tattoos were checked. More broadly, the search for “extremist” tattoos is a relatively new practice that entered common use in filtration camps in occupied parts of Ukraine. During filtration, tattoos were a critically important signal for security forces, an OVD-Info lawyer told The Insider on condition of anonymity.

“Tattoo checks began to be conducted selectively after the start of the war. You can’t punish someone for them — what public danger is there? Under Russian law, liability can arise only for public acts — so, in essence, if a tattoo is not visible, there should be no consequences,” the lawyer said.

That is the theory. In practice, detainees with the “wrong” sort of tattoo are often threatened with criminal prosecution. Yekaterina, the metal band manager, cited the example of friends who were detained at the Yaroslavl concert. Security forces told them their tattoos were “fascist” and that if they did not have them removed, they could face criminal prosecution.

After the concert raids, fear spread throughout the subculture, Yekaterina said. “Before every performance, I look out from the stage and don’t know what will happen — will they f*ck us up, or not? Besides, concerts for us and many other bands are now often not allowed.”

On social media, fans complain about concerts being canceled “for technical reasons.” Events are rarely banned openly and publicly, but it does happen. This past spring in Kemerovo, a denunciation by Russkaya Obshchina led to the Molly Fest tribute festival and a performance by the project 2rbina 2rista (pronounced “Turbina Turista,” or “Tourist Turbine”) being cancelled. 

The situation with the Molly Fest tribute event was more or less clear. It was supposed to feature songs by Poshlaya Molly (lit. “Vulgar Molly”), a band that left Russia after the start of the full-scale invasion of Ukraine. 2rbina 2rista, meanwhile, was targeted due to the fact that the group performs provocative alternative hip-hop and appears onstage in skeleton makeup. “Their ‘art’ is an explosive mix of profanity, violence, and sexual perversion. Such ‘art’ is a direct blow to our children’s psyche and an attempt to destroy our cultural code,” Russkaya Obshchina said. Regional authorities backed the denunciation.

Forbidden words

There are rules of the game for musicians, and they are very strict. On March 1, a revised law on drug propaganda took effect, making any mention of banned substances liable to be considered propaganda. Publishers and artists are removing “incorrect” songs from streaming platforms or else rerecording them, while also eliminating references to Satan and same-sex relationships.

Everyone on the metal scene has had to adapt. Lyrics are being rewritten and censored by both longtime provocateurs such as Korrozia Metalla and conformist classics such as Aria. Alexander Yelin, who writes lyrics for Aria, said the band now faces many denunciations.

“They have long been playing ordinary heroic themes — normal subject matter for heavy metal. There has been no pacifism since the early albums. If you look at the setlists from recent concerts, there are no songs mentioning the Antichrist or the devil. They also don’t sing ‘Angel Dust,’ because it is about drugs,” he said.

The restrictions affect both “peaceful” songs and also those featuring descriptions of gore. One person who spoke to The Insider said a Beatles cover concert in St. Petersburg in 2025 barred performers from playing “Imagine” and “All You Need Is Love.” But black metal has been hit especially hard, Yekaterina said. “They sing about death, blood, guts, and dismemberment. I think many people in power see references to the war in Ukraine in those words.”

“They sing about death, blood, guts, and dismemberment. I think many people in power see references to the war in Ukraine in that”

The Soviet Union also censored lyrics, but the system was much more flexible. There were state-run amateur arts centers where musicians could come and explain that the content of a song did not violate anything. That is impossible today.

“Many of my colleagues who played back in Soviet times remember that you could just sat that your song mentioning heroin was about fighting the drug mafia. That doesn’t work now,” Yekaterina said. “A ‘Rock Against Drugs’ festival is impossible in principle. Sing about heroin and criminal punishment will follow. No one cares about semantics. The same goes for ‘Satanism.’ The state does not care that the plots are taken from the Bible, or that the musicians are baptized and religious people.”

Sergei Mirov, a lyricist for Mashina Vremeni and Sekret and the author of books on the history of Russian rock, also believes the current bans are stricter than those of the Soviet era. 

“In the USSR, you could use Beatles music in a cartoon — the bad guys performed to it in ‘Shaybu! Shaybu!’ You could explain that youth rebellion was about how bad life was in capitalist countries. But now the authorities have learned the PR law that any mention is good. And just as Putin never said Navalny’s name, certain topics cannot be raised in songs, regardless of context,” he said.

At the same time, some performers have benefited from the bans thanks to the cancellation of foreign musicians’ tours and the departure of opposition artists, Yelin explained. He cited Radio Tapok, a metal project that “openly zigs” — Russian slang that can refer to Nazi-style salutes or far-right, ultranationalist posturing, but also to support for the current Kremlin authorities — and draws strong crowds. “If a person with long hair and tattoos comes to Radio Tapok, nothing will happen to him. At another event, he could be beaten, shaved and humiliated,” Yelin said.

Satan’s jacket

Metal fans cannot be described as an openly protest-minded audience. Among those attending “Funeral of Winter” in Yaroslavl, for example, were a police officer and a National Guard employee. According to Yelin, many older heavy music fans have built careers in state structures and can even shield their favorite artists from persecution. Nevertheless, their appearance and symbols have become a source of danger. Older metal fans have it easier: because of their long hair, “they are mistaken for priests,” Yekaterina said. Police are more likely to target younger members of the subculture.

People have begun thinking about how to dress, musician Igor told The Insider. “In subculture chats, people wrote about someone in Moscow being stopped, either on the street or in the metro, over Slayer merch and fined. Everyone is shocked.”

Another musician, Dmitry, whose name has been changed, told The Insider that in April 2025, he was forcibly given a haircut at a police station. A drunk man had attacked him in the courtyard of a Moscow apartment building, and Dmitry injured the man while fighting him off. The Insider has voice messages in which the musician describes what happened after he was detained by the police: “They beat me until I had a bloody nose and shaved me with clippers. A cop pinned me with his knee, grabbed me by the hair, and started shaving.”

Stories about people being punished for “incorrect” subculture symbols often make their way into the media and onto social networks. In September, 19-year-old Elina G. was fined in Zelenograd under the article on “displaying extremist symbols.” Police detained her over drawings on her jacket and bag: a pentagram and the “Leviathan cross” (a symbol almost entirely unknown to the general public). Judges decided it was one of the symbols of the Church of Satan, which Russia considers to be an extremist organization. In court, Elina admitted she had drawn on the clothing herself because she listens to heavy music, but she said she had no connection to Satanism. Elina was fined, and her belongings were confiscated.

In November, authorities in St. Petersburg jailed cosplayer Artyom Repin for 12 days. He had come to the themed NecroComicCon festival holding a goblet and a book bearing a pentagram along with the words “Satanic Rituals.”

In mid-April 2026, a resident of Severodvinsk, identified as Alexei K., was fined 1,000 rubles after he showed up for an appointment at a prosecutor’s office wearing a hoodie and pants bearing a pentagram and an image of Baphomet. Official reports again referred to the “international Satanism movement, banned on the territory of the Russian Federation” in justifying the fine. The Russian authorities have increasingly used the language of “international movements” as legal constructs to criminalize and persecute loosely defined groups or identities.

Even if one sets aside the legality of banning “Satanism” itself, most of those arrested have no connection to those religious practices. Musician Igor said he thinks the police and judges are aware of that fact.

“Everyone understands perfectly well that no one is eating children or raping goats. And no one is holding any rituals. Young and not-so-young people simply listen to a certain kind of music and go to concerts,” he said. “I think this is just the usual crackdown on dissent — an attempt to lump everyone together.”

In late April 2026, the founding forum of an international socialist network called the Sovintern was held at Moscow’s House of Unions. The event was organized by the party Spravedlivaya Rossiya (lit. “A Just Russia”). The name Sovintern echoes the Comintern, the Soviet-era Communist International that Moscow used in order to coordinate foreign communist parties and advance Soviet influence abroad.

The Kremlin did not hide its warm attitude toward this kind of international activity: the event opened with a welcoming address from Vladimir Putin himself. Sovintern’s stated public task was to create as much information content as possible. Each participant was expected to spread common narratives back home, thereby motivating potential future participants to join in the efforts to discredit their own national governments.

Like the Comintern once did for the Soviet Union, the new organization also appears to function as a cover for Russian special operations abroad. In fact, several of its participants are directly involved in recruiting foreign soldiers for the war in Ukraine.

One example is the American Communist Party (ACP). The party was founded only recently — on July 21, 2024 — by two Russophile Marxist-Leninist streamers: Adam Tahir, who uses the public name Haz Al-Din (and is also known as Infrared), and Jackson Hinkle. Their left-wing identity does not prevent them from being ardent admirers of the fascist ideologue Alexander Dugin and Nazi sympathizer Martin Heidegger.

Historically, communists in the United States have been represented by the Communist Party USA (CPUSA), whose leadership once actively cooperated with Soviet intelligence. The founders of the new ACP previously belonged to the shrinking CPUSA and have so far set up small chapters across the United States, as well as a branch in Canada. The party’s official activities are limited to community cleanup days, aid to the poor, and peaceful protests glorifying Stalinism and Chinese socialism. Party supporters also back Hamas and Hezbollah. Several members are even fighting against Ukraine on Russia’s side.

In the UK, similar activity is handled by the Workers Party of Britain and its affiliated movement, no2nato. The party is headed by George Galloway, 71, a frequent guest on Russian propaganda shows. Aside from the direct disinformation work of its leader, the party’s members are also on the lookout for potential mercenaries.

From political actions to recruitment

Until the start of its full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Russia used a network of state-controlled cultural centers and associated agents abroad to recruit agitators and, at times, fighters for proxy military structures. The Insider previously described how this worked using the example of Alexander Ionov, president of Russia’s Anti-Globalization Movement.

After the full-scale war began, most such organizations were expelled or shut down across the Western world. As a result, semi-legal and often highly marginal socialist and far-left cells became disproportionately useful.

The path of activists who end up in Western ultra-left movements affiliated with the socialist international usually follows three stages.

First come relatively harmless interest groups and meetings resembling political clubs. These can include community cleanup days, food distribution for homeless people, greening projects, and charity events in neighborhoods inhabited by minorities or economically vulnerable groups. Events of this kind create a sense of community and involvement in a cause that “really helps,” unlike abstract politics. Participants make new acquaintances and sometimes receive assistance.

For example, representatives of the Canadian branch of the ACP in Toronto organized a nature hike on May 7, 2026. Under the guise of a healthy lifestyle event, they worked to strengthen revolutionary consciousness.

On Memorial Day, May 25, 2026, ACP chapters in Michigan and Illinois held cleanup events and collected garbage, followed by a camp-out with a barbecue and live-fire training. Their clothing featured ACP patches alongside St. George ribbons marked with the letter Z — symbols that have come to signal support for Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.

In the second stage, the activities become more radical, shifting to open rallies — against NATO, and in support of the Kremlin, Iran, and Palestinian independence. At such events, Ukraine is routinely portrayed as a hotbed of “Nazism,” while NATO is cast as the successor to Hitler’s imperial policy.

On May 2, 2026, pro-Russian rallies were held outside Ukrainian embassies in London, Berlin, Edinburgh, Lisbon, Dublin, Dakar, and Pretoria to commemorate those killed in the 2014 Odesa clashes and the Trade Union House fire. Russian propaganda has long used the Odesa events as a mobilizing narrative to portray Ukraine as “fascist.”

In London, the rally was overseen by local Workers Party of Britain members Jesse Vinny, Chris Williamson, and Hoz Shafiey. Rally attendees denounced alleged Nazism in Ukraine and waved the flags of Russia, the Donetsk “People’s Republic,” and Novorossiya (lit. “New Russia,” an imperial-era term revived by Russian nationalists to denote parts of southern and eastern Ukraine).

The same activists organized another rally outside the UK Ministry of Defence, where they railed against the deliveries of Storm Shadow missiles to Kyiv.

In the United States, the ACP organized a pro-Russian rally and several marches on May 8-9 in the style of the “Immortal Regiment.” The ACP events were deliberately held near rallies by pro-Ukrainian activists.

Finally, in the third stage, the most active participants are offered the chance to go directly to the front.

How it began: The “international brigades”

The Kremlin has used similar structures before. In 2014, a movement known as Interbrigades emerged, built largely around former members of the National Bolshevik Party and Drugaya Rossiya (lit. “The Other Russia”), groups with imperialist and expansionist views. Interbrigades members openly said their goal was to take part in the combat in eastern Ukraine.

Interbrigades members openly said their goal was to take part in the combat in eastern Ukraine

One of the movement’s leaders was writer Zakhar Prilepin, who later became a prominent supporter of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine. As its name suggested, Interbrigades also recruited foreign fighters, which is how American communist Russell Bentley joined pro-Russian separatists in the Vostok Battalion in September 2015.

Another participant in the movement was Benjamin Stimson, a native of Oldham, England, who still plays an important role in recruitment. He was drawn into the war by his friend Ayo Benes, a Latvian National Bolshevik of Russian-Ugandan origin. By then, Benes had already become known for taking part in Russia’s 2014 operation to annex Crimea, where he earned the nickname “Black Lenin.”

Through the Interbrigades network, Stimson arrived in the separatist-controlled Ukrainian city of Debaltseve in 2015 and joined the 4th Company of the Pyatnashka international brigade. His participation in the fighting in Ukraine led to his first prison sentence — in November 2015, Stimson was detained at the airport after returning to Britain and served a total of six years and four months in prison.

Stimson’s return and new mercenaries

In February 2024, Stimson returned to Russia, where he officially received asylum before again ending up in the war in Ukraine. In March 2026, with the help of State Duma lawmaker Maria Butina, Stimson received Russian citizenship and joined the Kremlin’s United Russia party.

Butina, whose attempt to establish influence in the United States in the run-up to the 2016 presidential election failed, followed a similar career path. After serving time in an American prison over her coordination with Russian officials, she returned to Russia, joined United Russia, and began working on a project to attract foreigners to the country on ideological grounds. Stimson, meanwhile, was tasked with finding and training foreign mercenaries for the war in Ukraine. By his own account, he helps English-speaking recruits and delivers supplies to soldiers.

Stimson’s channels show the full propaganda chain clearly. First, people join socialist cells in their own countries and take part in rallies and strikes. Then, as they become more immersed in Russian propaganda, they express readiness either to go to the front in Ukraine or to help fight Western support for Kyiv.

One example is Stimson’s friend Aiden Minnis, who directly appealed to his supporters to find the locations of warehouses and production sites supplying Ukraine with ammunition and to stop those deliveries by any means. It is not known whether anyone responded to the message, but acts of sabotage have become common in the UK and across Europe.

Stimson’s example proved contagious for other left-wing activists. In April 2026, Bradley Townsend, a fisherman from Yorkshire, went to the war under the influence of “red agitation.” Townsend had never served in the military before.

In Moscow, he was met by Stimson and Minnis himself. After taking photographs with the newcomer against the backdrop of historic sites and in pubs, they created a personal channel for Townsend about his life so he could serve as an example for other potential mercenaries. Townsend also gave interviews to Stimson’s YouTube channel and to pro-Russian British video blogger Mike “ForeignAgentIntel” Jones before being killed at the front.

The Insider found that Darryl Fladung, a native of Queensland, Australia, also arrived in Russia this past spring. In Australia, Fladung had worked as a supermarket security guard.

In Moscow, Fladung was met by Stimson and Townsend. Like Bradley, Fladung had no combat experience. In May 2026, while training as an assault fighter at a firing range, he injured his left knee and the tendons around his heel, but after recovering, he made it to the front.

Seth Albert Noon, a member of the American Communist Party from South Carolina, serves in the Russian armed forces’ 24th Motorized Rifle Brigade. He has taken part in fighting in Bakhmut and in the Kherson region.

Michael Gloss, the son of a senior CIA official, reached the front by a similar path. He was killed in Ukraine in 2024 at age 21. Like Noon, Gloss was drawn to the far-left agenda and came to believe in Russia’s “special mission.”

Recruitment continues to this day. In late April 2026, Canadian Ryan Gallant — a member of his country’s branch of the American Communist Party — arrived in Irkutsk via China. Stimson said on his blog that the recruit was a professional helicopter pilot.

Sometimes the path is more complicated. One example is Kalen Pavan, a 17-year-old Canadian cadet who was recruited through socialist chapters and arrived at the Interbrigades headquarters in the Donbas in 2024. Stimson only began communicating with him. When it turned out that Pavan was under 18 and had lied slightly about his age, he was recruited by the FSB, Russia’s domestic security service, and sent to the European Union — first to Denmark and then to Poland — for intelligence work. But he failed the assignment and was detained and convicted.

That example, however, appears to be more the exception than the rule. Those who leave for the war usually do not return home, either because they are killed in “meat grinder assaults” or because they risk criminal prosecution. If a recruit survives, after a while he may become a colleague of recruiters such as Stimson and Minnis and begin looking for new recruits himself.

Given the peculiarities of Israel’s electoral system, just a few seats could decide the outcome of the country’s upcoming Knesset elections, scheduled for Oct. 27. The “seat value” varies from election to election depending on turnout and votes cast. In the last Knesset elections in 2022, one seat was worth approximately 35,000–39,000 votes. The electoral threshold is 3.25% (approximately four seats).  

In this setup, the votes of Russian-speaking voters could once again prove decisive. This refers primarily to the so-called “Putin aliyah” — the wave of immigrants who came to Israel from Russia following the annexation of Crimea in 2014 and the start of the war in Ukraine in 2022. But it also includes immigrants from Ukraine and other former Soviet republics.

According to estimates by Israeli media, this amounts to roughly 250,000 people. Even after taking into account the fact that some new immigrants left Israel after obtaining citizenship, and that others are not of voting age, the figure may still translate into roughly three to four Knesset seats. The competition for those votes has already begun.

“People form norms and habits, and it is very hard to change their minds. Even when reality changes, they adjust their internal priorities to maintain the same voting patterns. For example: ‘Likud is terrible on religion and state issues, but I vote for them out of security considerations.’ That is why the new immigrant community is worth its weight in gold. The vote of this audience in the upcoming elections could set a trend for decades,” political psychologist Dr. Hagay Elkayam-Shalem told Haaretz.

The votes of recent immigrants are worth their weight in gold, as they could set a trend for decades

According to Haaretz, most new immigrants favor political positions ranging between the center and the far-left bloc — that is, between the Bennett-Lapid Together alliance and the Democratic bloc led by Yair Golan, which has the left-wing parties Meretz and Avoda at its core.

This trend is also visible in social media activism and beyond. Over the past year, many NGOs have been working to strengthen immigrants’ ties with the liberal-democratic camp (which in Israel is represented by the center and center-left). Instead of direct campaigning for specific parties, this took the form of explaining Israeli realities — judicial reform, security issues — through the lens of various perspectives.

Elkayam-Shalem’s study of more than 600 Russian-speaking Israeli residents who arrived after 2012 found that 73% described their political views as “moderate” — 25% center-right, 30% centrist, and 18% center-left. Among those who arrived after 2022, more than a quarter identified as left-wing (27%).

Upwards of 39% of new immigrants did not vote in 2022. Of those who did, 45% supported today’s opposition (split roughly evenly between Lapid’s Yesh Atid and Lieberman’s Yisrael Beiteinu), and only 13% chose parties represented in the ruling coalition. A significant shift is now expected: 9% of coalition supporters have expressed intent to back the opposition, while 40% remain undecided.

In late April, Israel’s Channel 14 announced the acquisition of the Russian-language news site Mignews — one of the oldest Russian-language resources in Israel, which in recent years has been surviving with virtually no editorial staff. Channel 14 is often called Israel’s equivalent of Fox News and is considered a mouthpiece for the Netanyahu camp and far-right views.

Democratic leader Yair Golan called the channel a “propaganda mouthpiece” and promised to shut it down after winning the elections. The channel is owned by Israeli businessman Yitzchak Mirilashvili, the son of Russian-Israeli billionaire Mikhail Mirilashvili (formerly the first major investor in the social network VKontakte and president of the St. Petersburg TV company Russkoye Video).

How effective Channel 14’s outreach on the “Russian street” will be, and whether it will influence new immigrants whose political worldview is already formed — including strong disdain for this outlet — is hard to say. At the same time, it would be a mistake to suggest that the immigrant community, including the “Putin aliyah,” is monolithic in its views.

The wave of immigration after 2014 — and especially after 2022 — brought hundreds of thousands of new citizens to Israel, with many of them carrying liberal views, different cultural backgrounds, and stronger ties to Europe and the West. However, the Hamas terrorist attacks of October 7 and the resulting war shifted the attitudes of some new immigrants. Security has once again become the central issue, and many Russian-speaking Israelis have moved to the right.

Still, there is no direct correlation between the security agenda and support for Netanyahu and the ruling coalition parties. Moreover, right and left in Israeli politics have become increasingly blurred and no longer depend on whether a party is in opposition or in government. Yisrael Beiteinu is a traditionally right-wing party, but Avigdor Lieberman has vowed never to sit at the same table as Netanyahu (after  leaving his government in 2018). Like Netanyahu, Lieberman also lays claim to the “Mr. Security” title — and does so convincingly enough to win the support of some Russian-speaking immigrants who came to Israel as children. This applies to traditionally right-wing voters who are not ready to forgive Netanyahu and his coalition for October 7.

There is still time before the elections. Military operations continue, and the situation in Lebanon, Gaza — and, potentially, Iran — is constantly changing. Israeli public sentiment could be overturned in a day. Many of those who saw their preferences as set in stone are now wavering. Much depends on the outcome of U.S.-Iran negotiations, which also affect the Lebanon situation. Netanyahu could either gain a significant advantage or suffer a major setback as a result of these developments.

The dissolution of the Knesset

On June 1, 106 out of 120 Knesset members voted in the first reading for a bill to dissolve the legislature. No one voted against —  a rare display of unity between the ruling coalition and the opposition. The 25th Knesset was ultimately dissolved on July 17, and new elections are scheduled for Oct. 27.

It was previously believed that holding elections around October 7 would be unacceptable for Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. Everything would serve as a reminder of his government’s greatest failure — the day when Hamas terrorists infiltrated Israeli territory, killed more than 1,200 people, and took around 250 hostages. Netanyahu has yet to take direct responsibility for this.

At the same time, reports citing prime ministerial advisors suggested that elections in October are not necessarily a bad option for Netanyahu. He can play on the narrative of “recovery after the catastrophe” and highlight what he considers his security achievements. While contentious, this topic is far less sensitive for him than polarizing social issues — ultra-Orthodox conscription, judicial reform, the rising cost of living, education, juvenile crime, rising violence in the Arab sector, and much more.

There was a chance the coalition would hold on until the end of its full term. But that prospect nearly evaporated after ultra-Orthodox factions told the prime minister on May 24 that they were not interested in advancing the conscription bill in its current form.

Voter doubts

For years, political battles in Israel have revolved around the slogans “only Bibi' and “anyone but Bibi” (Bibi being the popular nickname for Netanyahu). The autumn Knesset elections will be no exception, but the competition is expected to be one of the fiercest in decades.

The year 2026 marks three decades since Netanyahu first took the prime minister’s seat. Aside from interruptions — from 1999 to 2009 and from June 2021 to December 2022 — Netanyahu has demonstrated remarkable political resilience, holding onto power against all odds.

Will Netanyahu’s art of political intrigue be enough for Israelis to overlook everything that has happened over the past four years — the October 7 massacre and the wars in Gaza, Lebanon, and Iran that followed? Israel’s military operations were undoubtedly impressive, particularly the series of eliminations targeting the leadership of Hamas, Hezbollah, and Iran. But what comes next? Where is the “absolute victory” Netanyahu has been constantly promising?

A majority of Israelis (57%) believe that Israel has not won any of the wars launched after October 7, according to a poll conducted for the Kan news website in late April. Some 28% agreed that Israel won at least one of the wars, while 15% hesitated to answer. To the question of whether the risk of a new mass atrocity by the Palestinian group Hamas or Lebanese Hezbollah remained, 73% of respondents gave an affirmative answer, 10% said no, and 17% said they did not know.

57% of Israelis believe Israel has not won any of the wars launched after October 7

Another key issue is political accountability for October 7. An investigative commission has yet to be established against a backdrop of total mutual distrust. More than half (54%) of respondents support establishing a state investigative commission, as demanded by the opposition (in which case its members would be appointed by the Supreme Court chief justice, with whom the current government is effectively at war). Only 23% support a government-appointed commission, while 7% oppose the idea and 16% are hesitant to provide a response.

How this will affect the vote depends on several factors. Voters must consider not only the party or a list of parties they support but also its potential coalition partners — and most importantly, the likely candidate for prime minister. According to a poll conducted for Channel 12 in April, 45% of respondents intended to vote for a party that would definitely refuse to back Netanyahu, 31% for one that would most certainly support him, and 24% were undecided.

Israeli voters’ priorities:

• Better management of the economy and cost of living — 32%
• Better security — 28%
• Unity of the people — 17%
• Democracy — 16%

The October 7 massacre will influence the vote of 71% of respondents. The war with Lebanon and Iran gives pause to more than 60% of respondents. Another key fault line is the attempted judicial reform, which its opponents describe as a judicial coup, a violation of the separation of powers, and a threat to democracy. 65% cited this issue. 

Some have not forgiven the government for the reform; others cannot forgive how it was handled and ultimately failed. In 2023, the reform brought the country to the brink of civil unrest, with mass opposition protests accompanied by calls to ignore reserve military service and threats from the tech sector to withdraw capital.

After Oct. 7, 2023, and the subsequent wars in Gaza, Lebanon, and Iran, the judicial reform bill was shelved — to the relief of some and the despair of others. But this issue, like security, will remain central in the election campaign for both the right-wing coalition and the opposition, where figures like Gadi Eisenkot, leader of the Yashar party and a prime ministerial contender, consider reform necessary.

“I will do everything so that the next government knows how to establish a state investigative commission, to advance the conscription law, and implement a shift in Israel’s priorities by adopting judicial reform and a constitution for Israel,” Eisenkot said.

The conscription law and the threat of impeachment

Over the years, Israel has seen many attempts to pass a conscription law — or, as some call it, a “non-conscription law.” Formally, conscription in Israel is universal, including for ultra-Orthodox Jews. However, in practice a significant number of yeshiva students do not serve in the military — and neither do most Arab citizens of Israel (whom no one is particularly eager to draft).

The last temporary law granting yeshiva students deferments and exemptions from service in the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) expired in the summer of 2023. A year later, the Supreme Court ruled that there was no longer any legal basis for the mass exemption of ultra-Orthodox men from conscription. Funding for yeshivas whose students evade the draft was also prohibited. The IDF began issuing draft notices.

Religious parties are demanding that yeshiva students continue to be exempt from service. But a significant portion of society, especially since the Oct. 7 attack and the unending military campaigns, insists on an equal distribution of the conscription burden and strict penalties for draft evaders. IDF Chief of Staff Eyal Zamir has warned of a serious personnel shortage — at least 12,000 soldiers — and a new bill is intended to define the scale of ultra-Orthodox conscription, the system of sanctions against draft evaders, and the prospects of deferment and yeshiva funding.

Religious parties demand exemption for yeshiva students from military service, while the public demands equal military service for all

This past spring, Netanyahu told ultra-Orthodox Knesset members that the coalition did not have the votes to pass the bill and reportedly asked them to postpone it until after the elections. They refused and decided to join forces with the opposition to push for the dissolution of the Knesset. In response, Netanyahu’s Likud pre-emptively introduced its own dissolution bill in order to maintain control over the course of events. The conscription bill was also advanced, even though the opposition demanded that all contentious legislation be frozen until after the elections.

In any case, Netanyahu’s plan appears to have failed. Rabbi Dov Lando, spiritual leader of the ultra-Orthodox Degel HaTorah party, issued instructions not to advance the bill. According to The Times of Israel, Rabbi Lando does not believe the service exemption law will actually be passed and sees the latest attempts to push it through the Knesset as part of a broader pre-election maneuver by Netanyahu.

The ultra-Orthodox are dissatisfied that the proposed bill increases conscription within their community, even though it preserves exemptions for full-time yeshiva students. The bill also drew resistance from within Netanyahu’s coalition due to its numerous legal loopholes.

They will not give up, however. Moshe Gafni, a faction leader within Degel HaTorah, demanded that the coalition pass the Torah Study Law as a key piece of legislation before elections. This bill, as an alternative to the conscription law, enshrines the legal status of yeshiva students. It features a number of contentious clauses, including the provision that “those who have committed to the permanent and prolonged study of Torah shall be regarded as having performed an important and essential service for the benefit of the State of Israel and the Jewish people.”

Why does the ruling coalition need all this, given that the conscription law is unpopular even among its own voters? A year ago, polls showed that a third of Likud and religious Zionist voters would have preferred the government’s dissolution over ultra-Orthodox exemption from military service, and the situation is unlikely to have changed drastically since then. Most likely, Netanyahu feared that the ultra-Orthodox would not forgive him for betraying their expectations and would refuse to ally with Likud after the elections, reducing his chances of forming a government — a risk that remains real even with all the maneuvering around the conscription law.

After Degel HaTorah’s refusal to advance the conscription bill, reports emerged that opposition members of the Knesset (MKs) approached ultra-Orthodox leaders with a proposal to support a constructive vote of no confidence to replace Netanyahu with a different head of government.

...And other contentious legislation

In parallel with the conscription law, the government is attempting to advance other contentious bills before elections.

On the day before the vote on dissolving the Knesset, the parliamentary Legislation Committee approved a bill to split the powers of the government’s legal adviser. In Israel, this official simultaneously serves as attorney general and chief legal adviser to the cabinet, also representing the government in court.

This bill was one of the central elements of the judicial reform, with its supporters arguing for the need to limit the influence of unelected bureaucracy and resolve the conflict of interest whereby the person advising the government and its ministers is also empowered to investigate their conduct and bring criminal charges against them. According to opponents of the reform, this bill poses a threat to the independence of the judiciary and democratic institutions.

Notably, the proposed bill contains not only clauses on dividing the legal adviser’s powers but also provisions stipulating that a criminal investigation against a sitting or former prime minister may only be initiated with the consent of the attorney general and approval of a district court. Furthermore, the Jerusalem District Court would determine whether any offense constitutes a “disgrace” — which bars the individual from politics for seven years. Currently, all of this falls within the purview of the government’s legal adviser.

These provisions are significant in the context of the ongoing proceedings against Netanyahu himself, whose proceedings on charges of corruption, fraud, and breach of trust have been underway for several years. Netanyahu denies all of the accusations and calls the trial politically motivated. The judges have indicated it will be difficult to prove the central allegation — a corrupt agreement in one of the cases. There are also many questions surrounding the conduct of the investigation.

Against the backdrop of the war and approaching elections, discussion has intensified about a possible plea deal or pardon. Some of Netanyahu’s supporters argue the drawn-out trial is hampering governance, while the opposition sees talk of a pardon as an attempt to shield the prime minister from accountability.

The opposition sees talk of a pardon for Netanyahu as an attempt to shield the prime minister from accountability

The position of Donald Trump, who called on Israeli President Isaac Herzog to pardon Netanyahu, added further fuel to the fire. The pardon process was initiated, but on May 25 it emerged that Herzog had frozen the proceedings.

Reportedly, the reason was Netanyahu’s refusal to participate in defense-prosecution negotiations initiated by the president. In any case, the pardon request itself — submitted on the grounds that appearing for questioning distracts Netanyahu from managing security during wartime — is set to lose its justification once the prime minister’s testimony concludes.

That leaves the option of a pre-trial deal, which would most likely imply Netanyahu’s exit from politics. For now, he has no such intention. “It’s hard to say where he’s headed. Even if he chooses to retire by striking a deal with the prosecution or reaching some compromise, it will happen suddenly and without warning. It will be an earthquake, and it will just happen,” Ynet writes.

Blocs and coalitions

For now, Netanyahu remains in politics and intends to fight for an election victory. According to polls, neither the opposition parties nor the ruling coalition has an absolute majority.

In light of the conscription law impasse, the future alignment of the ultra-Orthodox parties remains uncertain, though their options are limited. Some opposition representatives, including right-wing Russian-speaking Avigdor Lieberman’s Yisrael Beiteinu, have stated that they will not sit in government with the ultra-Orthodox. However, the latest news about impeachment could change the situation.

The Arab parties also remain in a class of their own. Only once in Israel’s history has an Arab party joined a technical coalition with Zionist parties: United Arab List, or Ra'am, under the Bennett-Lapid government in 2021, but Lapid now states that any government he is part of cannot depend on Arab parties. According to the latest polls, without the Arab parties, today’s opposition and coalition parties receive roughly equal votes, with constant oscillation in favor of one side or the other.

A narrow gap can always fall within the margin of error. In Israel, the right to form a government goes to the politician with the most recommendations from elected MKs, or whoever the president believes has the best chance of forming a coalition based on at least 61 seats — not necessarily the leader of the party with the most votes.

In 2021, Naftali Bennett became prime minister by winning just six seats. Election results are thus not the end, but the beginning of bargaining, and coalition negotiations do not always succeed: in 2019, the Knesset dissolved twice without ever beginning work, sending the country to repeat elections.

The ruling coalition currently has a single prime ministerial candidate: Benjamin Netanyahu. The opposition has three: Naftali Bennett, Gadi Eisenkot, and Avigdor Lieberman. They have not yet reached an agreement, and experts believe this gives Netanyahu a chance to form a government. However, if the opposition leaders unite, the picture could change.

Everything would be simpler if Netanyahu stepped away from politics. In that event, some of today’s opposition parties would be willing to cooperate with Likud and form a stable government without the Arab parties, the ultra-Orthodox, or the far right.

On June 12, the vessel ran aground near Jazirat al-Qibliyah island following a series of inexplicable explosions. The cause of the incident has not been conclusively established. The OSINT project Russian Forces Spotter previously suggested that the ship may have been hit by magnetic “limpet” mines. According to Starboard Maritime Intelligence, prior to the accident CAROLINE BEZENGI was transporting Russian oil from Novorossiysk to India.

Greenpeace analysts told The Insider that the area of oil slicks visible in satellite imagery on various dates ranges from three to 40 square kilometers. In their assessment, since the leak has been ongoing for more than a month, it can already be classified as a medium-intensity spill.

Omani authorities have demanded that the owners of CAROLINE BEZENGI remove the vessel from its current location. Due to heavy seas, at any moment the vessel could begin releasing tens of thousands of tons of oil into the ocean, triggering an environmental catastrophe.

The archipelago where it ran aground is part of a protected marine reserve established to preserve marine biodiversity. It is home to rare coral reefs, nesting sites for several species of sea turtles, and is an important stopover for migratory birds, meaning any confirmed oil spill could cause significant environmental damage.

The tanker’s nominal owner is Rentoor Shipmanagement, a company registered in Shanghai. As The Insider previously established, CAROLINE BEZENGI is part of a group of tankers linked to the Cypriot company Lagosmarine Ltd. that have regularly transported Russian oil from Primorsk, Ust-Luga, and Kozmino to India and China. According to the investigation, CAROLINE BEZENGI’s routes coincided with oil deliveries that Dubai-based companies linked to Latvian national Aleksejs Halavins were purchasing from Surgutneftegas at prices above the $60-per-barrel price cap set by the G7 countries.

Lagosmarine Ltd was subsequently sanctioned by the United States and Ukraine.

The tanker itself is also under sanctions. Restrictions were imposed on it by the European Union (Oct. 24, 2025), Switzerland and Ukraine (both on Dec. 13, 2025), the United Kingdom (Feb. 24, 2026), and Canada (March 25, 2026).

According to the defense minister, the Il-20 was flying in international airspace without a flight plan and with its transponder switched off. Two Polish F-16s were scrambled to intercept it. Kosiniak-Kamysz said that Poland’s armed forces continue to monitor Russia’s activities in close coordination with NATO allies.

The incident occurred a day after a Russian Kh-101 cruise missile violated Polish airspace during a massive strike on Ukraine. Initially, the Polish military spoke of an unidentified object that was moving westward on the morning of July 30 before disappearing from radar. Subsequently, missile debris was discovered near a crater approximately 10 meters in diameter near the village of Tarnawa-Kolonia in Lublin Voivodeship. Prime Minister Donald Tusk stated that the missile was, in all likelihood, Russian.

On July 31, Polish prosecutors confirmed that the missile that fell on Polish territory the previous day was indeed a Russian Kh-101 cruise missile. It was manufactured in the second quarter of 2026 at one of the facilities in the Moscow Region, said Lublin Prosecutor’s Office spokesperson Marcin Kozak.

Poland’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs summoned Russian Ambassador Georgy Mikhno in connection with the incident. Polish Foreign Ministry spokesperson Maciej Wewióra said that details of the conversation would be published later.

Angara-1.2 is a two-stage light-class launch vehicle. Since the rocket’s debut in 2014, it has been involved in eight launches — the most recent of which took place this past April.

Russian authorities are currently investing tens of billions of rubles in scaling up Angara production, according to internal documents reviewed by Dallas Analytics. Materials from the Khrunichev Center show that currently only one Angara 1.2 is produced per year, while plans call for increasing output to four per year. Additionally, there are plans to produce four heavy Angara-A5 rockets annually. To this end, production has begun to be relocated to a plant in Omsk at a cost totaling upwards of 17.5 billion rubles ($220.8 million). At the same time, the documents indicate that Angara production is currently unprofitable.

The relocation project to Omsk involves retrofitting five existing production lines and constructing five more from scratch. The plan to create new production capacity involves the procurement of 541 units of equipment valued at 3.62 billion rubles ($45.6 million). Of these, 477 are listed in the cost estimates as Russian-made, and only 57 are classified as Chinese. However, as Dallas Analytics emphasizes, this ratio can be misleading.

In the metalworking shop, for instance, Chinese suppliers are set to provide as much as 47% of the required equipment. In the composites and rubber products shop, the Chinese share drops to 15.9%. Notably, however, the only CNC (computer numerical control) machining center set to be installed in that shop is of Chinese origin.

Overall, China’s share of the total production equipment budget amounts to 24.3% (nearly 900 million rubles, or $11.3 million). However, within the technological core, 91.5% of equipment funds will go to Chinese suppliers.

According to the investigators, the largest Chinese supplier involved in the project is Anyang Forging Press Machine Industry Co., Ltd. (Anyang FPM), which operates in at least 80 countries, including in the markets of the United States, Germany, and Japan. Its website even has a Russian-language version. Anyang FPM is set to supply Russia with eight forging and pressing machines — products whose export to Russia is sanctioned by the EU and the U.S. In short, the company is earning money in countries that have supported Ukraine in its fight against Russia’s full-scale invasion while simultaneously selling equipment to upgrade Russia’s military-industrial base.

Dallas Analytics authors emphasize:

“The Angara launch vehicles to be produced with this equipment will place Russian Ministry of Defense satellites into orbit. Those satellites, in turn, may threaten European assets both in space and on the ground. The only factor likely to influence these Chinese manufacturers is the genuine risk of losing access to European markets. More broadly, doing business with Russia should carry the cost of losing access to the West.”

The investigators also note that the equipment Russia intends to procure from China is fairly standard, meaning that sanctioning a single company will not stop the deliveries, as identical machines can be sourced from other Chinese manufacturers. Furthermore, the examined documents suggest that China also engages in the practice of creating “short-lived brands,” specifically for sales to the Russian market.

As Dallas Analytics notes, the Angara 1.2 launch vehicles have never been used for civilian or commercial purposes. The sole customer for the rocket’s launches has been Russia’s Ministry of Defense, which uses them to put into orbit Kosmos satellites — the standard designation for Russian military spacecraft of various types.

Tumanbaev’s Russian citizenship and the risk of legal violations

On July 23, the investigative outlet Kloop, along with Temirov Live journalist Bolot Temirov, published a joint investigation into the dual citizenship of Kanybek Tumanbaev, who has served as Kyrgyzstan’s chief administrator of presidential affairs since May 2022. The Insider cross-checked the information against two independent sets of leaked Russian database records.

According to both sources, in April 2006 Kanybek Turgunbekovich Tumanbaev received a Russian passport issued by the Department of Internal Affairs of Volgograd’s Traktorozavodsky district. In June 2018, Tumanbaev obtained a new passport from the Russian Federal Migration Service office for Krasnodar Krai in the city of Anapa; this document remains valid at present. Therefore, Tumanbaev had held Russian citizenship long before he rose to prominence in Kyrgyz politics.

Neither the Kyrgyz Presidential Administration nor Tumanbaev himself responded to journalists’ inquiries about the existence of a second citizenship and the grounds on which it was obtained. Notably, for a Presidential Property Management official, holding a Russian passport contradicts three separate provisions of Kyrgyz law:

• Article 38 of the Constitution prohibits citizens serving in political and ad hoc state positions from holding another citizenship;
• Article 22 of the Law on Citizenship prohibits persons holding another citizenship from occupying senior positions in state bodies; this article also requires citizens to notify the authorities of the existence of a second citizenship;
• Article 15 of the Law on State Civil Service and Municipal Service reiterates the prohibition on persons holding foreign citizenship from occupying senior positions.

Journalists emphasize that concealment of foreign citizenship constitutes legal grounds for dismissal from one’s position.

Who is Kanybek Tumanbaev and why does his passport matter?

Tumanbaev has managed to develop his career under three different Kyrgyz presidents. Before Sadyr Japarov came to power, Tumanbaev was affiliated with ex-president Almazbek Atambayev (in 2015, Tumanbaev ran for parliament on Atambayev’s Social Democratic Party ticket, and he later took part in the 2020 elections on the Birimdik party ticket of ex-president Sooronbay Jeenbekov. In October 2020, when Jeenbekov was replaced by Sadyr Japarov amid protests, Tumanbaev quickly found a place on the new president’s team — in May 2022, Japarov appointed Tumanbaev chief administrator of presidential affairs.

From that point on, according to the journalistic investigation, the Kyrgyz Presidential Administration (PA) was transformed from a merely administrative body into something resembling a family state corporation. In 2021, entities subordinate to the PA generated revenue of 770.9 million soms ($8.8 million); however, by the end of 2025 that figure had exploded to a total of 14.138 billion soms ($161.7 million). The PA reports directly to the president and has broad spending powers — the administration may use its budget for its own needs without routing it through standard budget procedures.

Tumanbaev was entrusted with overseeing Japarov’s most high-profile and costly projects: the construction of a new presidential palace, a new airport, and the extension of the runway in Karakol, along with the development of tourist infrastructure in Ala-Archa National Park and of residential districts in Bishkek. Journalists from the OCCRP, Kloop, and Temirov Live identified at least 11 such projects, six of which cost $137 million — with most bypassing open competitive tenders. According to a source familiar with the PA’s operations, Tumanbaev himself effectively controls the contractors on these projects via nominee directors and shell company owners, some of whom are linked to Japarov’s inner circle.

At the same time, the PA has been accumulating new assets and powers, taking control of land, parks, entire enterprises, and even the dissolved Ministry of Digital Development. Today the PA controls more than 30 subordinate organizations whose remit encompasses mortgage construction, civil registration, printing of passports and banknotes, the issuance of driving licenses, and the monitoring of internet traffic nationwide.

It is precisely this concentration of assets and powers in Tumanbaev’s hands that triggered concerns about his Russian passport — the official who has gained significant influence over one of Kyrgyzstan’s most opaque and fast-growing government entities happens to be a Russian citizen.

The investigation was published against a backdrop of intense pressure on independent journalists inside the country. In October 2025, a court ruled that materials from Temirov Live, Kloop.kg and Ayt Ayt Dese were “extremist” and banned the outlets’ activities in the country. Eleven current and former journalists from the project were charged with incitement to mass disorder, and two of them were sentenced to jail terms. Subsequently, one of them, Azamat Ishenbekov, was released on a presidential pardon. 

In addition, in Volgograd, an apartment building in the city’s Traktorozavodsky district and a private house in the Krasnoarmeysky district were damaged. Fires broke out at a fuel-and-energy sector facility in the south of the city and at warehouse premises in the Dzerzhinsky district, said Governor Andrei Bocharov. Five people were hospitalized; authorities did not comment on their condition.

The Insider analyzed data from the NASA FIRMS fire monitoring system. At 4:39 a.m. Moscow time on July 31, four thermal anomalies were recorded in the industrial zone of Volgograd’s Dzerzhinsky district. In addition to the Wildberries center, the area houses other industrial facilities, including a drilling equipment plant, the Reemtsma-Volga tobacco factory, a wholesale depot, and the site of a former motor plant.

The independent outlet Astra, using photos and videos posted by eyewitnesses, identified the burning facility as being the Wildberries complex on Buzuluksky Proyezd, with an area of over 48,000 square meters. The press service of Wildberries’ parent company confirmed the strike on the logistics facility. According to preliminary reports, no one at the warehouse was injured. The deliveries and dispatch of orders were rerouted to other facilities.

The fuel-and-energy sector facility where the fire was reported appears to be the Lukoil-Volgogradneftepererabotka oil refinery. Astra cites local residents who describe the strike on the plant, and satellites detected numerous thermal anomalies at and near the Lukoil-Volgogradneftepererabotka refinery. The densest cluster of such hotspots falls directly on the plant’s industrial site. However, no independent confirmation has become available, and it remains possible that the thermal signature could be the result of gas flares that are operating normally. 

A logistics center in Zelenodolsk district of Tatarstan was also struck — purportedly by “falling debris” — said district head Mikhail Afanasyev. He did not report any casualties or damage and did not specify which facility was targeted. Based on analysis of available footage, Astra reports a hit on the Wildberries complex at the Zelenodolsk industrial site, as videos posted by eyewitnesses show smoke rising above the area.

Satellites detected no thermal anomalies near the Wildberries logistics center in Zelenodolsk. However, this does not rule out a brief or minor fire that had already subsided before the satellite passed over, or one which was not intense enough to be detected. The Wildberries press service did not comment on the strike on its Tatarstan center, stating only that the warehouse was operating normally.

Ukrainian Telegram channels also published video of a drone explosion near what was claimed to be an Ozon logistics complex in Zelenodolsk. The company told state-owned news agency TASS that the complex and the goods stored there were not damaged, and that the warehouse resumed operations after staff who had been evacuated returned to their workplaces.

Residents of Nizhnekamsk reported multiple explosions and intense flaring at one of the city’s oil refineries. It remains unclear, however, whether the intensified flaring was a consequence of the attack or a routine process. Nizhnekamsk district head Radmir Belyaev stated that a drone had been shot down over the city, adding that there had been no casualties or damage, and that industrial processes at the plants continued uninterrupted. He provided no further details.

NASA FIRMS recorded numerous thermal anomalies in Nizhnekamsk’s industrial zone. The densest cluster falls on the territory of Nizhnekamskneftekhim, with individual anomalies visible near the Nizhnekamsk CHPP-2 and the TANECO refinery.

An apartment building was damaged in a drone strike on the city of Gukovo in the Rostov region, claims Governor Yuri Slyusar. He added that the building’s inter-floor slabs were destroyed, and that its residents had to be evacuated to a temporary shelter. In Bataysk, private homes and a shop were damaged, while in Rostov-on-Don a tree line caught fire following the downing of a drone.

Russia’s Defense Ministry reported intercepting more than 370 drones over several regions.

In 2017, ahead of Hungary’s parliamentary elections, passengers riding Budapest’s trams could see the face of American investor and philanthropist George Soros — on the floor beneath their feet. Prime Minister Viktor Orbán’s political consultants had deliberately placed the posters where commuters would step on them.

The floormats on public transportation were only part of the anti-Soros campaign being run by Orbán’s right-wing Fidesz party. Giant billboards featuring Soros appeared across the city, depicting him with a sinister smile above the slogan: “Let’s not allow Soros to have the last laugh.” In smaller print above it was another message: “99% oppose illegal immigration.”

With its reference to the well-known Nazi trope of the “laughing Jew” (and with Stars of David incorporated into the posters), the campaign amounted to the most sweeping antisemitic display in Europe in a decade. Orbán won reelection.

In 2018, a pipe bomb was mailed to Soros’s home in the United States. Shortly beforehand, Donald Trump had accused him of funding protests against his Supreme Court nominee, Brett Kavanaugh. In the years that followed, social media was awash in claims that Soros was a former Nazi who financed the Antifa and Black Lives Matter movements — and had even created COVID-19 — all as part of a plot to destroy America.

Nine years later, Orbán was finally voted out of office in Hungary, and thousands of people took to the streets of Budapest to celebrate. But Donald Trump was back in power. Ahead of the U.S. midterm elections, apparently concerned about the prospects for his party, the American president has once again turned his attention to George Soros.

The Trump administration began threatening an investigation into the financier’s Open Society Foundations in an effort to establish a link between the organization and the killing of Charlie Kirk. Trump declared that the government must “identify and dismantle the networks, structures, and organizations that incite political violence,” adding that Soros was “at the center of it all.”

So far, no investigation appears to have been launched. But as the midterms approach, Soros will likely find his name included in the Trump administration’s rhetoric. For the political right, he has become the ideal all-purpose enemy.

Who is George Soros?

George Soros is a 95-year-old billionaire financier and philanthropist. Incidentally, he is also the “man who broke the Bank of England” — and he is also a Jew who grew up in Budapest during the Holocaust. The Soros family survived the Nazi occupation by obtaining forged documents identifying them as Christians. At the age of 13, George posed as the godson of an official in Hungary’s collaborationist government, while his parents helped hide other Hungarian Jews.

In 1947, Soros fled what had by then become communist Hungary, arriving in England, where he enrolled at the London School of Economics. He studied under the Austrian philosopher Karl Popper, whose ideas profoundly shaped the future philanthropist’s worldview. Popper’s The Open Society and Its Enemies proved especially influential, leading Soros to embrace the principle that no single ideology should dominate a polity. Armed with a degree in philosophy and a deep belief in the idea of the open society, Soros emigrated to the United States in 1956 and began a career in finance, eventually becoming one of the world’s most influential investors.

In 1970, Soros founded the hedge fund Soros Fund Management. His investment style could best be described as aggressive, if not outright opportunistic. He sought to capitalize on every available opportunity and exploit weaknesses in financial systems, generating annual returns that at times exceeded 100%.

The episode that earned Soros the title of the “man who broke the Bank of England” best illustrates his hard-nosed approach. In 1992, as Britain sought to curb inflation while preparing for the creation of a single European currency, it artificially maintained the pound’s exchange rate peg to the German mark.

Convinced that the policy was unsustainable and that the pound would eventually fall, Soros began aggressively selling the currency, flooding the market with so many pounds that the Bank of England could not buy them back quickly enough. His fund’s short position ultimately approached $10 billion. After frantic interest rate hikes failed to stabilize the currency, Britain was forced to withdraw from the European Exchange Rate Mechanism, and the pound was devalued. The trade earned Soros more than $1 billion in profit, and he later employed similar strategies in Asian financial markets.

In 1992, Soros became known as the “man who broke the Bank of England”

The wealthier Soros became, the more interested he grew in public life, politics, and philanthropy. Yet his approach to giving remained much the same as his approach to investing: aggressively exploiting weaknesses in the system in order to achieve his goals.

Soros began his philanthropic work in 1979 by providing scholarships to Black students in South Africa, who were disadvantaged by the apartheid regime. In the mid-1980s, he turned his attention to his native Hungary, where he began funding academic exchanges with the West and supporting independent cultural groups at a moment when the Communist regime in Budapest was already slipping into a crisis of legitimacy. One of Soros’s scholarships was awarded to a university student and aspiring politician named Viktor Orbán. For a time, the financier even regarded the billionaire as his protégé.

As the socialist bloc began to collapse, Soros supported networks of dissident intellectuals across Eastern Europe — including Czechoslovakia’s Charter 77 and Poland’s Solidarity movement — while also financing cultural initiatives and supplying universities and libraries with equipment. The Atlantic noted that Soros’s programs “helped light the fuse for communism’s collapse from within.”

Western journalists noted that Soros’s programs “helped light the fuse for communism’s collapse from within”

In the 1990s, the philanthropist established the Open Society Foundations, which became the primary vehicle for distributing his wealth around the world, including in Russia. The foundation’s grants consistently went to scholars and students, local activist groups, and independent media outlets. Over the course of four decades, Soros donated more than $32 billion through the Open Society Foundations.

Soros later said that his experience of living under the Nazi occupation of Hungary had shaped his approach to philanthropy:

“Instead of submitting to our fate, we resisted an evil that was much stronger than we were — and we prevailed. We not only survived, but also managed to help others. This left an indelible mark on me, transforming a catastrophe of unimaginable proportions into an exhilarating adventure.”

He described the mission of the Open Society Foundations by saying: “People who have lived all their lives under a totalitarian system need help in turning their aspirations into reality.”

Because of his hard-charging business approach and his willingness to engage publicly in political causes, Soros quickly made enemies around the world. In Europe, he opposed pro-Soviet forces, effectively serving as a conduit for American influence independent of the U.S. government. In the United States, he became a principal target of the far-right wing of the Republican Party. And through it all, he continued trading in financial markets outside Europe, drawing accusations of promoting “Jewish globalism” whenever currency crises followed his investments.

By the turn of the 2000s and 2010s, Soros had become the era’s preeminent “liberal villain.” At least three separate sources of conspiracy theories can be identified, all of which emerged in parallel and reinforced one another: Russian disinformation, Hungary’s right wing (with the assistance of the American political consultants it had hired), and the American far right itself.

Russia: The architect of the “color revolutions”

The Open Society Foundations had all but wound down its operations in Russia by 2003. At the time, George Soros said that their mission in the country had largely been accomplished, as the Russian state had become strong enough that external support was no longer necessary. By then, relations between the philanthropist and the Russian authorities had already begun to deteriorate. Soros had openly criticized Vladimir Putin, linking him to the oligarchic system (specifically to Boris Berezovsky).

But relations between Soros and the Kremlin truly soured after the “color revolutions” — Georgia’s Rose Revolution in 2003 and Ukraine’s Orange Revolution of 2004–2005. In both cases, mass protests erupted over electoral fraud, ultimately leading to the removal of pro-Russian governments. And, in fact, opposition groups in both countries did receive support from Soros’s foundations in one way or another — as part of broader civil society development programs.

Despite the nebulous real-world ties, following the events in Georgia and Ukraine, the Russian media increasingly portrayed Soros as the West’s “invisible hand” allegedly financing regime change. Soros himself later wrote that Putin had personally urged the leaders of Central Asian countries to shut down Open Society offices.

In 2004 — eight years before the term entered Russia’s political vocabulary — Uzbek President Islam Karimov declared Soros’s foundation an “undesirable organization,” claiming it had orchestrated the revolution in Georgia and was preparing a regime change operation in Tashkent.

The billionaire even featured in the 2005 book The Fourth Way: An Introduction to the Fourth Political Theory, by none other than Alexander Dugin. The author portrayed the Open Society Foundations as part of a project aimed at the “accelerated erosion of national sovereignty” in pursuit of the creation of a world government. According to the fascist ideologue, “color revolutions” had become the most effective weapon in Soros’s strategy for destabilizing and destroying the states exercising that sovereignty.

The claim resonated with nationalist audiences and was later widely adopted by Russian propaganda. By late 2013, Russian state media was already portraying Soros as the architect of Ukraine’s Euromaidan protests, and in 2015, the Open Society Foundations became one of the first organizations to be designated “undesirable” in Russia.

Meanwhile, Soros himself became the target of a large-scale propaganda campaign directed at European audiences through the state-funded outlets Sputnik and RT. Russian propagandists claimed that he was responsible for Europe’s migration crisis, echoing narratives promoted by Europe’s own political right. A 2016 Sputnik article quoted an “expert” who alleged that Soros despised “traditional European values” and wanted the interests of minorities to take precedence over those of the majority. Soros was portrayed as a threat to traditional society while simultaneously being linked to a shadowy global elite supposedly seeking to undermine national governments.

Russian propagandists portrayed Soros as a threat to “traditional society”

Russia’s campaign against Soros even reached the United States. Ahead of the 2016 presidential election, Russian bots spread claims on social media that voting machines in several states were personally controlled by the billionaire.

Vladimir Putin has repeatedly invoked Soros as the embodiment of the threat allegedly posed by the West. In 2018, for example, he claimed that the head of the Open Society Foundations wanted to bring down the euro at Washington’s behest:

“Our American friends very often tell me that America, as a state, has nothing to do with this. Now there are rumors that Mr. Soros wants to destabilize the European currency. This is already being discussed in expert circles. Ask the State Department why he is doing it. The State Department will tell you that they have nothing to do with it — that it is Mr. Soros’s personal affair.”

Hungary: The perfect enemy

In 2019, an investigation by Swiss journalists revealed that as early as 2008, American political consultants George Birnbaum and Arthur Finkelstein had deliberately crafted the image of George Soros used by Viktor Orbán to turn the Hungarian-American billionaire into the villain of his political campaigns. Birnbaum and Finkelstein spent years quietly refining a strategy designed to personify all of Hungary’s problems in a single Jewish financier.

As Birnbaum told the reporters, Finkelstein had his breakthrough in 2013: Hungary needed a “puppet master” — a real person who could supposedly be portrayed as “controlling everything.” Soros, who had been born in Hungary and whose support for liberal causes infuriated conservatives, was the perfect choice.

This reflected one of the core principles of Finkelstein’s political strategy. Finkelstein, who died two years before the investigation was published, believed in focusing failure on one specific human scapegoat and uniting voters against a single fabricated enemy. He taught that politicians should “fight not al-Qaeda, but Osama bin Laden,” urging Orbán to give voters a concrete figure to hate. According to Birnbaum, Finkelstein chose Soros because he was disliked by both the right and the left, the latter viewing him as a symbol of big finance.

Political strategists chose Soros as their enemy because he was hated by both the right and the left

The Hungarian media campaign to discredit Soros began in 2013 and was followed by a crackdown on initiatives he funded. In 2015, Orbán’s supporters seized on the refugee crisis, claiming that the financier “wanted to weaken the country and flood it with migrants.” The campaign reached its peak in 2017, when Orbán’s Fidesz party launched a barrage of messaging steeped in hostility and antisemitic themes.

Arthur Finkelstein and George Birnbaum designed Orbán’s anti-Soros campaign knowing that Soros’s Jewish background would resonate with centuries-old antisemitic stereotypes. Orbán’s rhetoric echoed The Protocols of the Elders of Zion, depicting an enemy who did not belong to the Hungarian nation — a “globalist” seeking to subjugate the entire world.

Birnbaum, who is himself Jewish, later said that the campaign simply needed a target and that antisemitism in Hungary was “eternal.”

United States: The “puppet master”

George Soros became a U.S. citizen in the 1960s. When the billionaire began funding anti-communist movements in Eastern Europe in the 1980s, he enjoyed broad support across the American political spectrum, especially among Republicans. That changed in the 1990s, when Soros began directing money toward harm reduction programs for drug users. At the time, U.S. authorities were waging the War on Drugs, incarcerating so many people for drug-related offenses that prisons were running out of space. It was then that Lyndon LaRouche — an ultraright conspiracy theorist and presidential candidate — published some of the first articles accusing Soros of crimes ranging from drug trafficking to plotting to start World War III.

A retrospective by the Associated Press notes that LaRouche’s fantasies later influenced conspiracy theorists such as Alex Jones. Although the former presidential candidate remained on the fringes of American politics, his attacks helped entrench the antisemitic image of Soros as a “puppet master,” a narrative that later took hold among the American far right.

Republicans, however, truly turned against Soros only in 2004, when he began funding Democratic candidates. At the time, the philanthropist declared that defeating George W. Bush had become “the central focus of my life,” explaining that the White House’s Iraq policy was rooted in a supremacist ideology that threatened to plunge the region into a permanent state of war. In his book The Bubble of American Supremacy, published during the election campaign, Soros argued that Bush and his supporters had embraced “a crude form of social Darwinism” — the administration had deliberately stoked fear using slogans such as “either you are with us, or you are with the terrorists.” According to Soros, this rhetoric echoed the propaganda he had heard while growing up in Nazi-occupied Hungary. Republicans responded by making the philanthropist one of their principal political enemies, falsely accusing him of “buying” the Democratic Party and of enriching himself through the international narcotics trade.

In 2010, Fox News aired a special titled The Puppet Master. Against a dramatic soundtrack, host Glenn Beck described the “little-known” billionaire philanthropist as a man secretly pulling the strings behind world events. Using imagery of marionettes, Beck claimed that the Open Society Foundations were undermining political and economic systems around the globe. After the program aired, right-wing politicians in the United States began making regular claims that Soros was financing waves of immigration.

The trend only intensified after Donald Trump came to power. In 2018, conspiracy theories spread across the English-language internet claiming that Soros was paying people in Latin America to organize “migrant caravans” heading toward the United States. Trump, like other right-wing politicians, openly flirted with these theories — saying only that he “wouldn't be surprised” if Soros were funding the caravans.

Trump openly flirted with conspiracy theories, saying he “wouldn't be surprised” if Soros were funding migrant caravans

In 2020, Soros was blamed for two more crises facing the Trump administration: the COVID-19 pandemic and the Black Lives Matter demonstrations precipitated by the killing of George Floyd. Online conspiracy theories claimed that Soros had deliberately created the virus and, in Floyd’s case, had conspired with the police to “stage” his death. An analysis by the Anti-Defamation League later found that during the 2020 protests, the number of negative tweets mentioning Soros surged from roughly 20,000 per day to more than 500,000.

Soros as part of the global myth of Jews and globalists

The conspiracy theories surrounding Soros are replete with tropes borrowed from twentieth century narratives about the Rothschilds and Rockefellers: behind the façade of governments, running the world through its banks and foundations, stands a small circle of wealthy families — disproportionately Jewish ones.

The oldest and most overtly antisemitic version of this conspiracy theory developed around the Rothschild banking dynasty. In the nineteenth century, the family pioneered cross-border finance by establishing banking houses across Europe, financing government debt, and investing in major international projects, including railways and other infrastructure. The Rothschilds were also active philanthropists, purchasing land in Palestine for Jewish families, among other initiatives. Over time, however, their wealth and success became surrounded by myths. They were accused of financing wars, manipulating financial markets, and controlling governments. Fact-checkers have repeatedly shown that claims alleging the Rothschilds control global finance — including the U.S. Federal Reserve System — are entirely baseless.

The next stage was the “Rockefeller” version of the conspiracy theory, which emerged in the United States during the twentieth century and was not originally rooted in antisemitism — the Rockefellers were not Jewish. As capitalists and founders of Standard Oil, the Rockefeller family undeniably wielded enormous influence in business, the economy, and politics — and they also established the Rockefeller Foundation, a philanthropic organization that, much like Soros’s organizations of today, funded NGOs along with a wide range of social initiatives. Unsurprisingly, the Rockefellers became a prime target for the far right, who alleged that the Rockefellers secretly controlled American education, medicine, foreign policy, the United Nations, and a shadowy “world government.”

The political right transformed legitimate criticism of concentrated wealth into a conspiracy theory about a secret world government

Before long, the narrative surrounding the American Rockefellers merged with older antisemitic myths about the Rothschilds, giving rise to the modern mythology of the “New World Order,” which holds that a small elite controls international institutions and that Jewish financial dynasties deliberately engineer global crises.

The fusion of these two narratives made Soros an almost perfect embodiment of both myths. Like the Rothschilds, he is a highly successful financier of Jewish origin. Like the Rockefellers, he oversees an extensive international philanthropic network that supports social initiatives around the world. Unlike either of those families, however, Soros has conducted his activities openly, publicly funding liberal causes. That visibility gives the far right tangible facts to seize upon in an effort to lend a patina of credibility to their conspiracy theories.

Universities, libraries, doctors: Who do Soros’s foundations actually support?

The activities of George Soros’s foundations are indeed highly transparent. They publish financial reports, and their spending can be traced through grant records, lists of recipient organizations, and program descriptions. The best-known of these organizations, the Open Society Foundations, publishes regular financial reports detailing how its funds are allocated. According to the latest figures, of the $32 billion Soros has transferred from his personal wealth to the foundations since 1984, $24.2 billion had been spent by 2024, including roughly $1.2 billion in 2024 alone. Most of the money goes toward global programs, administration, and general operating expenses. An independent OECD assessment published in 2023 found that the foundations spent $590.3 million that year. Of that amount, $441.4 million was distributed to organizations promoting civil society, with 35% provided as flexible core funding and 39% earmarked for specific projects.

Broadly speaking, the foundations’ work falls into three main areas. The first — and by far the largest, longest-running, and most comprehensive — is focused on education and academic research. The second consists of socially oriented initiatives carried out in different countries at different times, ranging from support for Roma communities in Europe to funding research into palliative care and supporting hospice programs in the United States. The third encompasses humanitarian missions responding to crises, wars, and natural disasters around the world.

As noted above, Soros’s philanthropic work began in 1979 with scholarships for Black students in Cape Town during the apartheid era. Over the following three decades, more than 20,000 people received these scholarships. A 2023 evaluation found that the grants expanded access to education and helped recipients build professional careers, but found no evidence that the program had any measurable impact on democratization in the region. Among Soros’s most prominent educational initiatives are the Central European University (now headquartered in Vienna and enrolling around 1,500 students from around the world) and the Step by Step early childhood education program, which includes roughly 80 organizations in 40 countries.

The social programs funded by Soros’s foundations are equally broad, including support for strategic litigation, legal research, and court monitoring. The Open Society Foundations have also funded independent media outlets, anti-corruption organizations, election monitoring groups, and major international organizations such as Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International. It is important to note, however, that receiving a grant does not mean that Soros controls an organization's staff or political decisions.

The humanitarian work carried out by Soros’s network of foundations is similarly wide-ranging. The foundations have provided assistance to countries and communities during numerous crises and disasters, from helping restore gas, electricity, and water supplies after the siege of Sarajevo, to funding urgent research during the COVID-19 pandemic, and providing $25 million in aid to Ukraine following the start of Russia’s full-scale invasion, supporting displaced people, civil society organizations, and NGOs documenting war crimes.

The activities of Soros’s foundations in Russia, which began in 1987–1988 and expanded after the collapse of the Soviet Union (before Putin terminated its activities in 2003), are well documented. According to Kommersant, Soros’s organizations spent approximately $950 million in Russia between 1995 and 2003, with most of the funding directed toward education. By various estimates, nearly 65,000 teachers, professors, and students received grants. The foundations allocated $125 million to establish and finance the International Science Foundation, more than $100 million specifically for Russian scientific research, and another $200 million for the academic sector across the post-Soviet states.

Between 1995 and 2003, Soros’s organizations spent approximately $950 million in Russia

The projects funded by Soros’s foundations in Russia were highly diverse. For example, Soros’s first initiative in the Soviet Union, the Cultural Initiative program, purchased and distributed computers, photocopiers, fax machines, and other equipment to cultural and educational institutions. Another example is the aforementioned International Science Foundation, established by Soros amid the collapse of the Soviet Union — at a moment when scientific research across the region was facing a severe funding crisis. In 1993, approximately 20,000–25,000 scientists received emergency grants that allowed them to continue their research by purchasing laboratory equipment, financing travel to academic conferences, and even paying for subscriptions to scientific journals.

Between 1996 and 2001, the Open Society Foundations allocated roughly $100 million to establish more than 30 university internet centers across Russia, providing them with equipment and covering personnel costs. As a result, researchers and educators gained access to the internet at a very early stage of its development, when connectivity was still expensive and far from widespread.

Another notable Soros-funded initiative in Russia was the Pushkin Library program. Starting from 1998, it purchased contemporary books for hundreds of Russian libraries while also supporting numerous independent publishing houses.

Soros also funded innovative and experimental initiatives in Russia — like the introduction of harm reduction programs, which sought to replace the traditionally punitive approach to drug use and the spread of HIV. Under this model, people did not have to stop using drugs before receiving assistance — a radical idea in Russia at the time. Fear of punitive institutions such as state narcology clinics, as well as criminal and administrative penalties, discouraged drug users from seeking help, even as HIV was spreading rapidly within this population. Organizations supported by Soros distributed sterile needles and syringes, condoms, provided anonymous HIV testing, and disseminated information about safer drug use. By 2005, these programs were operating in 38 Russian cities.

Beginning in 1998, Soros’s foundations allocated more than $12.5 million to the diagnosis and treatment of multidrug-resistant tuberculosis, which was spreading through Russia’s overcrowded prisons and penal colonies. According to the foundation, one in four inmates was infected with tuberculosis at the time. Research made possible by Soros-funded programs helped reveal the true scale of antibiotic resistance to the world and contributed to the launch of a global strategy to combat tuberculosis.

According to the Soros’ foundation, one in four Russian inmates was infected with tuberculosis around the turn of the millennium

Although Soros’s foundations are now portrayed by Russian propaganda primarily as institutions that finance “liberal” media outlets and NGOs, those recipients were largely a later development. The overwhelming share of the money Soros directed to Russia in the 1990s went toward supporting apolitical education and scientific research, as well as to addressing the severe social and public health crises the country faced during that period.

An overall assessment of the actual work carried out by Soros’s foundations shows that, while they support a wide variety of projects in different countries, they are not a secret command center through which a shadow government controls the world. That image is the product of conspiracy theories rooted in longstanding antisemitism, distrust of elites, and right-wing propaganda being disseminated from a few specific sources spread around the globe.

Eliyahu represents the segment of Israeli society that not only takes the Torah and the Talmud literally, but also treats the ancient texts as binding instructions that must be carried out. If the Book of Genesis says that God gave the descendants of Abraham a land “from the river of Egypt to the great river, the Euphrates,” then the sovereignty of the modern State of Israel must extend across all of the territory between the Nile and the Euphrates. In other words, the Jewish state must annex certain parts of modern-day, internationally recognized Syria, Egypt, and Lebanon.

Roughly 10–15% of Israelis place religious precepts above secular law — or, at least, that is the figure that consistently votes for political parties espousing religious Zionism, an ideology that combines extreme nationalism with orthodox religious views, including views on Israel’s state borders.

For years, religious Zionism has been associated with Jewish settlements in the Palestinian territories — in the West Bank (which Israelis call Judea and Samaria) and, somewhat earlier, in the Gaza Strip. For decades, these settlements have been Israel’s primary instrument of expansion into Arab lands that, under international law, do not belong to Israel. In 2017, Israel’s current finance minister Bezalel Smotrich explicitly stated: “This process will make it clear to all that the reality in Judea and Samaria is irreversible, that the State of Israel is here to stay, and that the Arab dream of a state in Judea and Samaria is no longer viable.”

In the years since, Smotrich has not softened his position.

Lock, stock, and a smoking Torah

The instability and wars in Syria and Lebanon provided convenient justifications for the deployment of Israeli forces into parts of those countries’ territory. Officially, the army was deployed to create buffer zones between Israel and its unstable neighbors. But in the wake of the military, settlers have also attempted to penetrate the occupied border areas of the Arab states.

For religious Zionists, the entire south of Syria (and several regions of Jordan as well) is ancestral Israeli territory, part of the Promised Land that God pledged to the Jewish people. These lands have a biblical name — the Bashan. In the spring of 2025,  shortly after Israeli forces entered southern Syria, settlers formed a movement to bring these territories under Israeli sovereignty, naming their organization the Pioneers of the Bashan.

For religious Zionists, the entire south of Syria is ancestral Israeli territory, part of the Promised Land that God pledged to the Jewish people

They have been remarkably persistent, breaking through into Syrian territory on multiple occasions and attempting to set up tent camps — and even to lay the foundations of a future permanent settlement. So far, however, they have not had much success. All of their attempts to establish themselves in territories once inhabited by ancient Israelites, according to the Torah have been thwarted by the Israeli army.

According to statements by the Pioneers, even they did not expect the military to simply allow them to settle in Syria. Instead, their actions serve a somewhat different purpose: to convince the government of the need to eventually build Jewish settlements in Syria, and to secure the official right to push Israel’s borders a little further — bringing them closer to those described in the holy books.

“The Bashan is our ancestral land. We see the empty expanses of our land calling us to return and settle it. We call on the Israeli government to remove the enemy from all areas of the Bashan and allow the pioneers to settle there,” a statement by the Pioneers reads.

The Pioneers have ideological kindred spirits in the Uri Tzafon movement (lit. “Awake, North Wind” — the opening of a verse from the biblical Song of Songs, which makes multiple references to Lebanon). They too seek the establishment and legalization of Jewish settlements, but in the Israeli-occupied areas of Lebanon rather than Syria.

“This land was promised to us,” one of the Uri Tzafon leaders, biologist Anna Sloutskin, says about Lebanon.

Like the Israelis who have plans for Syria, Sloutskin and her associates demand that Israel’s authorities permit the construction of permanent Jewish settlements in all of the land that God bequeathed to Israel. On their maps, the Lebanese–Israeli border runs at least 30 kilometers further than on all other maps. Naturally, the border bites off a portion of Lebanon in Israel’s favor, not the other way around.

Tanakh vs. tanks

If religious Zionists seek justification for their claims in the sacred books of Judaism known as the Tanakh, the Israeli military — who stand opposed to the would-be settlers — are guided by far simpler and more contemporary things: their commanders’ orders. For now, these amount to creating “security zones” in neighboring states’ territory — that is, establishing full control over border areas. It is assumed that the creation of such zones will protect Israeli towns and villages from attacks by Hezbollah and other armed groups.

Israel’s military presence in Syria and Lebanon already constitutes an occupation, as Damascus and Beirut both refused to authorize the incursion and are demanding the immediate withdrawal of Israeli forces. Jerusalem, for its part, has made no official statements about planned annexation of foreign territories, and negotiations are underway (albeit so far without much success) with the government of Syria’s interim president al-Sharaa on withdrawing troops from parts of the seized territories. In Lebanon, the military presence is justified by the need to disarm Hezbollah, which is dangerous and openly hostile toward Israelis. Once that goal is achieved, the Israeli army will have no formal grounds to remain on foreign soil.

However, Israel’s complex history of relations with its Arab neighbors shows that Israelis sometimes shift borders in their own favor even when there is no direct threat to the Jewish state. For instance, during the Six-Day War of 1967, Israel’s military-political leadership had doubts about the necessity of sending troops into Syria’s Golan Heights. The main front of that war was much further south, in the Sinai, while the Golan was a secondary front tying down significant Israeli forces.

The decision was nevertheless taken to seize the heights (which, incidentally, are also part of the biblical Bashan). In 1981, they were officially declared part of the Israeli state. The basis for the annexation was not so much the mention of the Golan in ancient texts, but rather contemporary security concerns. The experience of the 1967 war had shown that Syrian artillery, firing from positions on the heights, could strike dozens of kilometers deep into Israeli territory. And so the government announced that it was annexing the land in order to prevent future attacks.

The basis for the annexation was not so much the Golan’s mention in ancient texts, but contemporary security concerns

In the period between the military seizure of the region and Israel’s formal extension of sovereignty over it, the Golan Heights experienced a genuine settlement boom. The first kibbutz on the Golan appeared just a month after the Israeli army moved in, and by the early 1980s there were already dozens of Jewish settlements there.

In fairness, the mere existence of settlements by no means guarantees the annexation of the territories on which they are located. In 1979, Israel returned the Sinai (which had been seized at the same time as the Golan Heights) to Egypt in exchange for a peace agreement and Cairo’s recognition of the Jewish state’s right to exist. All Israeli settlements were evacuated — often forcibly. In 2005, many settlements in the Gaza Strip were also dismantled under the unilateral disengagement plan of Israel’s then-Prime Minister Ariel Sharon. Once again, this involved the use of force against Israeli settlers who refused to leave the area.

From a historical perspective, the cases of accomplished and aborted annexations demonstrate that when the Israeli government makes a decision on borders, it is not guided by religious precepts or even military necessity, but purely by concerns of political expediency.

Occupation, expulsion, settlement

When Israel returned the Sinai, it obtained peace with Egypt, its most powerful and potentially most dangerous neighbor. And by pulling out of the Gaza Strip, the Sharon government was able to cut security outlays. The need to constantly expand Israel’s military presence in the ever-growing settlements was putting increasing strain on the state budget, which the government could only afford via such unpopular measures as cutting social program funding. Sharon decided it was politically more expedient to save money on protecting the settlements rather than taking it from his electorate.

The annexation of the Golan Heights is a more interesting case. In 1981, Prime Minister Menachem Begin’s Likud party risked falling short of parliamentary seats to retain the premiership and other government posts for its members. The only thing that could save Likud from a damaging defeat was a coalition agreement with the religious parties. In exchange for supporting Begin, those parties demanded the annexation of the Golan. And Likud — which only months earlier had refused even to discuss the possibility of revising Israel’s borders — included the annexation of the Golan Heights in its election manifesto. After the elections and the formation of a coalition government with representatives of the religious parties, Begin fulfilled his campaign promise.

The political situation in today’s Israel closely resembles that of the early 1980s. Likud is once again the ruling party, and once again it is heading into elections this fall in a bloc with right-wing religious parties. The latter’s attitude toward the seized Syrian and Lebanese territories can be summed up in the slogan of the aforementioned Uri Tzafon movement: occupation, expulsion, settlement.

But today’s Likud, led by sitting Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, still has room to maneuver, which may allow it to preserve the current coalition without such dangerous geopolitical adventures, which would indeed carry risks. After all, the annexation of the Golan Heights led to a serious deterioration of relations with European countries and the United States, with the latter even abruptly suspending the Strategic Partnership Agreement and canceling contracts for the supply of weapons to Israel. And although Donald Trump recognized the annexation in 2019, there is no guarantee that he would now go along with the seizure of new territories. After all, Trump’s relations with Netanyahu are currently not at their best, and Washington does not want to fall out with the new Syrian government, seeing it as a potential ally and partner.

Although the Trump administration recognized the annexation of the Golan in 2019, there is no guarantee that it would now go along with the seizure of new territories

Given the international community’s clear opposition to any potential Israeli annexations in Syria and Lebanon, Likud might still be able to get away with offering its right-wing partners concessions of a less controversial kind. These could include, for example, the cancellation (or at least postponement) of the decision to conscript Haredi Jews into the army — they have been exempt from military service since the founding of modern Israel, and they responded to the Supreme Court ruling nullifying that exemption with mass protests. Or it could mean increased funding for Jewish antiquities preservation programs, distributed through the right-wing-controlled Heritage Ministry. Or there could be less risky land grabs — expanding the number of Jewish settlements in the West Bank and constructing new ones in the Gaza Strip. The international community, which regards these territories as Palestinian, views such Israeli activity with displeasure but does not, after all, do all that much to demonstrate their objections. And Trump, with his religious entourage, unequivocally sides with Israel in the dispute over these territories.

For now, the threat of annexation of parts of Syria and Lebanon is not an imminent one. Still, the idea of establishing permanent settlements in neighboring states — which only a few years ago was marginal and even outlandish — is gradually becoming mainstream. Calls for annexation are increasingly coming from religious leaders and ministers, the Israeli press is publishing articles calling for the establishment of settlements in Lebanon and Syria, and opinion polls show broad support for a plan to occupy all of southern Lebanon. Sooner or later, the question of the political calculations around the expediency of new annexations may present a Likud leader of the near future with the same sort of dilemma that Begin encountered before the Golan annexation in 1981.

The talks are taking place against a backdrop of simultaneous disruptions in the oil sectors of both Russia and Kazakhstan. In July, Kazakhstan cut crude oil and gas condensate production by more than half following the suspension of exports via the Caspian Pipeline Consortium (CPC) terminal near Novorossiysk — on July 26, output fell to approximately 1 million barrels per day, compared with an average of 2.16 million barrels in June. The CPC, through which more than 80% of Kazakhstani oil is exported, had suspended crude intake following a series of Ukrainian drone attacks on tankers near the terminal.

At the same time, Russia’s fuel market has faced a gasoline shortage due to refinery shutdowns following drone attacks and maintenance work. Due to Ukrainian strikes in 2026, by July 20 a total of 16 Russian refineries had fully or partially suspended processing, according to The Insider’s count. Additionally, the Russian business outlet Kommersant has noted that by July 20, refineries with a combined capacity of more than 45 million metric tons of oil per year had not yet resumed fuel sales on the St. Petersburg Exchange.

According to a Reuters assessment, by July 10 gasoline production in Russia was meeting roughly 65% of seasonal demand. The daily shortfall was estimated at 40,000–45,000 metric tons against consumption of 115,000–120,000 tons per day. Due to the shortfall, Russia was already cutting fuel supplies to Central Asian countries and looking for additional sources of petroleum products.

In its reply to Reuters, the Kazakhstani Ministry of Energy explained the talks by pointing to the need to ensure stable capacity utilization at the country’s refineries, as well as to preserve jobs and supply the domestic market with fuel. Kazakhstan’s authorities have stated that fully meeting the country’s own needs is a prerequisite for any possible deal.

The volumes and terms of supply, as well as the refineries that could process Russian crude, have not yet been determined. Commercial parameters, including delivery destinations and export volumes, are to be agreed upon by the market participants themselves, the Ministry of Energy noted.

Russia and Kazakhstan annually agree on quotas for duty-free petroleum product supplies. For 2026, the parties settled on deliveries from Russia to Kazakhstan of 285,000 metric tons of motor gasoline, 450,000 metric tons of diesel fuel, and 300,000 metric tons of jet fuel. These supplies fall under an exemption from Russia’s fuel export ban.

Four people were injured in the attack. Three were discharged after receiving medical care, while one remains in hospital under medical supervision. No fatalities have been reported.

More than 100 emergency services personnel and rescue workers are involved in fighting the fire, with over 50 units of equipment and two fire trains deployed. Authorities are also awaiting the arrival of emergency aviation.

The press office of the merged company Wildberries and Russ stated that the receipt of supplies and dispatch of orders had been redirected to other logistics facilities.

On the same day, the company reported a fire following a drone attack on a Wildberries logistics facility in Sarapul, located roughly 1,200 kilometers east of Moscow in the Udmurt Republic. Staff had been evacuated in advance, and no one was injured. Due to the fire, authorities closed traffic in a section of the Izhevsk highway where the warehouse is located. Currently, the only way out of the city is via the Nechkinsky highway.

Using photographs from eyewitnesses, the independent publication Astra geolocated another fire, this one at a Wildberries sorting center in the village of Zamulyanka, Perm Region. Neither the company nor regional authorities had commented on this information as of the time of publication.

The law restricts the transfer of human genetic data — including data obtained through population and immunological studies — to foreign states, organizations, and individuals. Transferring such data outside Russia is permitted for the treatment of a specific patient, for the development of drugs for that patient, and within the framework of international cooperation, but only with the approval of a special interagency commission.

Even to publish anonymized results containing only aggregate indicators and models, researchers will be required to notify the commission in advance and submit a copy of the work in preparation. The transfer of individual genetic data will require a separate permit. Grounds for refusal may include, among other things, risks to Russia’s “biological security,” violations of citizens’ rights, and incomplete or inaccurate information in the application.

Scientists surveyed by T-invariant fear that the additional approval requirements will effectively shut Russian geneticists out of leading international publications. Scientific journals and repositories typically require the submission of raw genomic data so that other researchers can verify the results. According to the outlet’s sources, Russian authors will either be unable to meet these requirements or will fall behind their foreign counterparts due to lengthy application processing times.

One geneticist cited an example involving a study on the spread of coronavirus strains in Russia. The authors spent about a year and a half during the pandemic seeking approval to upload the genomes to the international GISAID database, and in that time, other research groups published similar work, leading to the Russian paper being published in a less prestigious journal.

Scientists also point to the vague language and application procedures connected with the new law. In particular, it remains unclear how the commission will verify the completeness and accuracy of scientific data and determine whether its publication poses a threat to “biological security.” One source fears that even an approved paper could later be declared to contain classified information or data whose leakage may harm Russia’s security.

According to the interviewees, the restrictions could lead to the isolation of Russian genetics, as scientists will be forced to publish primarily in Russian journals, and their research results will not be fully verifiable or peer-reviewed by foreign colleagues. They believe this could increase the risk of substandard papers, pseudoscientific conclusions, and corruption within a closed scientific system.

Russian authorities have justified the restrictions by citing considerations of national security and “genetic sovereignty.” State Duma Deputy Speaker Irina Yarovaya has spoken of research on Russian biological samples being conducted in foreign “secret laboratories,” while State Duma Speaker Vyacheslav Volodin has emphasized the need to prevent the uncontrolled transfer of genetic data abroad. Scientists surveyed by T-invariant consider the idea of a weapon selectively targeting a specific modern ethnic group to be virtually unachievable given the mixed origins of human populations.

Polish Prime Minister Donald Tusk also confirmed the violation of the country’s airspace, saying he has convened a coordination group that includes the defense minister and representatives of the relevant services, who are working at the scene and regularly briefing him on all established details.

According to data from the Operational Command of the Polish Armed Forces, the westward-moving object was detected at 3:40 a.m. Six minutes later, it disappeared from radar screens — before it could be positively identified. An Mi-24 helicopter was dispatched to the area to investigate; its crew located the likely crash site near the village of Tarnawa-Kolonia in Lublin Voivodeship.

As reported by Polish news agency PAP, after 5:00 a.m. police discovered a crater roughly 10 meters in diameter, along with scattered fragments of an unidentified object, located between the villages of Tarnawa-Kolonia and Tokary. The crater is located in a field approximately 1.5–2 kilometers from the nearest homes. The area has been cordoned off, and the military and other Polish services are working to determine the origin of the debris. Police counterterrorism officers were also dispatched to the site. The military police, Internal Security Agency, Military Counterintelligence Service, and Lublin prosecutor’s office were all notified.

No one was injured in the incident, and there is currently no threat to the lives or property of local residents, police spokesperson Andrzej Fiolek said. Residents of nearby villages said the explosion was so powerful that windows in their homes shook.

Sybiha maintains that it was specifically a Russian Kh-101 missile involved in the attack on Ukraine that crossed into Polish territory. According to the Ukrainian Foreign Minister, the incident represents yet another violation of NATO airspace and underscores the need to strengthen Ukraine’s air defenses.

Even before the unidentified object was detected, Poland scrambled military aircraft in response to activity by Russian long-range aviation and the massive strike on Ukraine, tracking at least a dozen missiles over the western regions of Ukraine. One of these other objects came within around 5 kilometers of the Polish border before turning east. Air raid sirens were sounded in Lublin, Krasnystaw, and other areas of Lublin Voivodeship.

Overnight into July 30, Russia fired 74 missiles and 284 drones of various types at Ukraine. According to Ukrainian authorities, as of the time of publication at least eight people were killed, including three children, and dozens were injured. The strikes hit the Dnipropetrovsk, Lviv, Kyiv, Poltava, Kharkiv, Mykolaiv, Sumy, Vinnytsia, Cherkasy, and Ivano-Frankivsk regions.

Ukrainian attacks on Crimea are intensifying by the day, increasingly cutting the peninsula off from supplies coming from Russia. As a result, residents are being left without electricity, water, fuel and food.

Overnight into July 14, Ukraine’s armed forces struck one of the most heavily protected sites in Crimea: the Balaklava thermal power plant (TPP). It is one of two power plants built on the peninsula after Russia’s annexation using Siemens gas turbines secretly delivered to the site — turbines that Russia no longer produces. Electricity in Sevastopol is now being supplied on a schedule of two hours on and six hours off. Simferopol has also been affected, though the power system of its Tavricheskaya TPP remains connected.

Local and federal authorities are concealing the scale of the damage caused by the strikes. But in Armyansk, Krasnoperekopsk, and the steppe settlements of northern Crimea, there has been no electricity for periods ranging from two weeks to a month. In the 12 years since water supplies through the North Crimean Canal were halted, these areas have suffered badly from drought and salinization. Melons, soybeans, and rice had to be replaced with hardy wheat varieties. Now, without electricity, pumps in wells cannot even draw the bitter, salty water that remains in underground aquifers — remnants from the “blessed” days when the canal was full.

Mobile service is unstable in those areas because the batteries powering GSM towers do not have time to recharge during the brief periods when electricity is supplied. Online cash registers and scanners no longer work in rural stores, and many shops have closed. Traveling to a district center for groceries is expensive, as is running a generator to keep them refrigerated — and there is no gasoline. Everyone who can is sending children to stay with relatives elsewhere. Local schools are preparing to switch to remote learning, much as those in Ukrainian frontline cities have long done — though how such an arrangement can be organized without reliable internet access is not entirely clear.

Hundreds of villages in the Pervomayskoye, Sovetsky, and Nizhnegorsky districts are not connected to the gas network, and tanks are no longer being delivered. Since 2020, liquefied gas had been transported to Crimea from Surgut by rail but in 2023, after three strikes on the Crimean Bridge, rail tank cars carrying propane began making their way by ferry.

But on June 21-23, 2026, TES-Terminal-1 and three ferries were blown up, making propane scarce. Crimean authorities are now trying first to supply gas stations, since a significant share of public transport in the peninsula’s cities has been converted to gas. Rural residents receive propane only after other needs are met, meaning they must wait one and a half to two months to refill a household cylinder through Krymgazseti. As a result, villagers are cooking over fires.

Druzhba Narodov shuts down

Large businesses in northern Crimea are gradually going under. The first to close was the Crimean Titan plant in Armyansk, one of Eastern Europe’s largest producers of titanium dioxide and the only such plant under the Kremlin’s control. For Armyansk, it is the city’s main employer. Before the takeover by Russia, the plant belonged to Ukrainian oligarch Dmytro Firtash. It later passed to structures linked to the Russian state-owned bank VTB. Local residents reported seeing several explosions after drones hit the plant overnight into June 13, after which production ground to a halt.

After Crimean Titan, the major agricultural holding Druzhba Narodov stopped operations at its meat plant in the village of Petrivka in the Krasnohvardiiske District. “Fuel has become much more expensive, logistics have become unprofitable,” employees told The Insider. “But the main thing is that we in Petrovka have had no electricity for a month.”

The closure of the meat plant was not announced officially, but The Insider’s sources said main production stopped June 28. Druzhba Narodov is the peninsula’s largest producer of pork, poultry, sausages, and processed meat products. Until recently, the company was profitable — in 2025, its revenue totaled 1.59 billion rubles, with net profit of 147.9 million rubles. But Druzhba Narodov’s exceptional position is linked to the peculiarities of the local market. Under Ukraine, a significant share of meat and poultry was produced by Crimean farmers. After annexation, large numbers of livestock were killed off by the state — the authorities blamed epidemics, but some farmers said the market was being cleared for large agricultural holdings from neighboring Kuban.

Under Ukraine, Druzhba Narodov belonged to Yuriy Kosiuk, an oligarch and friend of former President Petro Poroshenko. In 2017, he sold the holding to Moscow-based Optima-Finance Management Company, which is linked to the circles of former Prime Minister Dmitry Medvedev and National Guard chief Viktor Zolotov.

In 2018, the late Alexei Navalny’s Anti-Corruption Foundation found that the meat plant had become the National Guard’s monopoly supplier and was selling its products at above-market prices. In June 2022, the entire holding came under the control of former Kuban governor Alexander Tkachev. In 2025, Tkachev’s Druzhba Narodov effectively seized the canned food maker Glavprodukt, which Russia’s Prosecutor General’s Office had taken from its American owner.

The meat plant’s closure is already affecting the local market. Few meat producers remain, trucks are banned from using the Crimean Bridge, and drones are attacking the “land corridor,” Russia’s route through occupied Ukrainian territory to Crimea. As a result, shipping a refrigerated truckload of meat from Rostov now costs an unprecedented 500,000 rubles. Shoppers say the range of meat and poultry products in stores has noticeably shrunk. Prices change every day, with even chain supermarkets displaying signs asking customers to check prices with cashiers.

The Belogorsky greenhouse complex, the largest in Crimea and Belogorsk’s main employer, has also closed, Krym.Realii reported. “The staff has been dismissed, with only administrative workers and security remaining. Leftover products were given free of charge to employees of local state institutions, and flower seedlings were handed over to local municipal enterprises,” the outlet’s source said.

Small businesses wind down

The crisis is not limited to northern Crimea. Small independent retailers began closing across the peninsula during the June 26 blackout. The first to suffer were shops selling perishable foods: meat, fish, and dairy products. Dairy is especially difficult because Crimea produces only about 40% of what it consumes. Supplies now mainly come from the Dzhankoi plant.

“Goods from Dzhankoi are delivered once a week, and delivery has become more expensive,” Alla, who owns several dairy stalls at a market in Simferopol, told The Insider. “I can’t stockpile anything because they cut my electricity, and the refrigerators leak. There are no normal customers — just pensioners, and they steal too. But I have to pay for everything: utilities, rent, taxes, plus sellers’ wages. I can’t operate at a loss. Those selling vegetables, fruit, and groceries are the only ones still working.”

Fruits and vegetables, incidentally, have become cheaper in Crimea this year. The owner of a greenhouse near Bakhchysarai said that for the past decade, local harvests were bought up in full by wholesalers from mainland Russia, while imported produce was sold on the peninsula. This summer, however, there was a large cherry crop, and it is difficult to ship out. As a result, the going rate per kilogram has fallen from 300 rubles a year ago to 180 this July. 

This summer, Crimea has a large cherry crop, but it is hard to ship it out, so it is selling for just over half of last year’s price

Entrepreneurs are surviving however they can.

“At first, we drove across the bridge to the mainland for gasoline,” said the owner of a confectionery workshop in Sevastopol. “But now it’s hard to fill up there too, so we buy from resellers in Kerch for 200 rubles. We installed a water tank in case the water is cut off. A little ZIL truck carrying five cubic meters costs 3,000 rubles. Of course, all this costs money, but we raise prices by 10 to 20 rubles per kilogram each week. At least we are working. We stop only when there is no power.”

A wholesale food company in Simferopol stopped working because fuel became too expensive.

“Even before the price increase, fuel accounted for a third of our transport costs. Now it is more than half,” the company’s co-owner told The Insider. “We include it in the rate, and orders decline. But that’s not even the main thing. We drive along the R-280 road, through the new territories, and there are drones there. They hit more than just fuel trucks, and there is no insurance. We decided it is better to make a pause than to lose the fleet. I think they will solve this problem by fall somehow.”

For a small accounting firm in Simferopol, electricity is not the problem, as an office generator does not consume much fuel. The problem is internet outages: “We can’t log into our accounts or our clients’ online reporting systems, we can’t send documents to the tax service or the bank. How are we supposed to work?” asked Olga, the firm’s director. “No one canceled our taxes, and we are required to use online cash registers — otherwise there is a fine.” In the end, Olga put seven of her 12 employees on unpaid leave.

The peninsula’s southern coast lures visitors with discounts

Crimea’s southern coast is considered the safest part of the peninsula. There are almost no military sites there, drones are not visible, and explosions are not heard. Many people can still be seen on Yalta’s beaches and waterfront. If they are not tourists, then they are affluent Crimeans taking advantage of a rare chance to vacation in the summer at winter prices.

Kommersant, citing Travelline, reported that summer bookings had fallen by 43% in Sevastopol and 31% in Crimea as a whole. But that is likely an overly optimistic estimate. The few remaining trains to Crimea, packed at departure, empty out along the way. Only 10 to 15 people per carriage reach the final stop in Kerch — those who live and work on the peninsula. The lines of cars at the Crimean Bridge are also mostly heading out.

In these conditions, large hotels are trying to attract residents of Crimea, Russia’s Southern Federal District, and the “new territories” with unprecedented discounts. There is little hope of guests from farther away.

Mriya (lit. “dream” in Ukrainian), a resort owned by Sberbank in Greater Yalta, cut prices for rooms and villas by 30% from July 1 to Aug. 31. Guests can get another 10% to 20% off for early booking, and reserving a room for three nights means a fourth night for free — this at a hotel where rooms previously rented for 600,000 rubles and villas for 1.5 million rubles per night.

The five-star Villa Elena in central Yalta is offering residents of the Russia’s Southern Federal District, the Donetsk and Luhansk “people’s republics,” and the occupied Zaporizhzhia and Kherson regions a 50% discount through New Year’s. The hotel used to charge 5,000 rubles for day access to its pool without an overnight stay; now it allows people in effectively for free provided that they agree to spend 2,500 rubles in the restaurant.

The situation is especially difficult for mini-hotels with up to 50 rooms, which make up the majority of hotels in Crimea. Older Soviet-era sanatoriums hosted pensioners from mainland Russia in winter at state expense, but mini-hotels depended entirely on the summer season.

Dmitry Anosov, owner of the Balanzhur guesthouse in Balaklava, told the Sevastopol outlet ForPost that 98% of bookings at his 35-room hotel had been canceled. Customers are demanding that deposits be returned within 30 days, as required by law. But mini-hotels cannot comply — already spent that money preparing for the season, and there is no cash flow.

“Last season was good for us in Sudak, and this year we expected a record,” Anna, who owns a small guesthouse in Sudak, told The Insider. “So in the fall I built a small pool and installed a solar collector to save on heating water. I put all the deposits into that. I also took out a secured loan. So what now — will the bank take everything from me? They have declared an emergency and say there will be compensation. But so far nobody is telling us anything. At least give us loan holidays, or even better, a preferential loan at 2% to 3% so we can refinance. And exempt us from taxes.”

“We want support,” said the owner of a Sevastopol tourist camp, who asked that even its location not be named. “But what they are discussing now will not save us. For example, they say they may give us loan deferrals and subsidies, like during COVID, so we can pay staff at least the minimum wage and keep people. Fine. But first, you can’t keep people on minimum wage. They have families to feed, and they are leaving to work in Anapa and Sochi. Second, what am I supposed to repay the loan with? Even if gasoline appears in the fall and there are no attacks, the season will be over.”

“What am I supposed to repay the loan with? Even if gasoline appears in the fall and there are no attacks, the season will be over”

Residents of Crimea’s southern coast who are used to renting apartments to vacationers are pessimistic.

“Come to Foros and you’ll see people on the beach,” said the owner of apartments once rented by the author. “You’ll also see people in the sanatorium park. But they are all from Sevastopol and from the villages of the Baydar Valley, people who don’t mind spending gasoline. There are no vacationers in the village. What are people doing? Drinking.”

Local alcohol is another product, after cherries, that has not become more expensive this year. “There are stores where nothing but alcohol is left, and they still work,” The Insider’s source said. “Before the war, many people here had quit drinking. Now it’s the opposite. There’s no work.”

On life support from the state budget

Tourism and agriculture are usually seen as the main victims of Crimea’s blockade and shelling. But for the peninsula’s economy, the blow is not as severe as it may appear: Tourism accounts for just 5.8% of gross regional product, while agriculture accounts for 5.5%. Agriculture also absorbs more subsidies and investment than it generates in profit. In reality, the bulk of Crimea’s gross regional product comes from real estate transactions, trade, industry, and construction — sectors that are largely tied to the redistribution of budget money.

Industry includes state power plants, power grids, and major enterprises that also passed to the Russian state after 2014. Construction is mostly state-funded infrastructure, government contracts, and work financed through the Housing and Utilities Reform Fund. Health care and education on the peninsula are largely state-run. Budget money from those sectors flows into trade and services, including tourism, since large sanatoriums host pensioners from mainland Russia in winter at state expense.

Federal subsidies have been rising constantly since 2014. The independent outlet Verstka calculated that in 2014 Sevastopol received 19.5 billion rubles in free federal transfers and Crimea received 105.3 billion rubles. In 2024, those figures were 32.1 billion rubles and 130.6 billion rubles, respectively. Thanks to subsidies, Sevastopol’s budget in some years was comparable to that of Yekaterinburg (pop. 1.5 million) even though Sevastopol’s reported population of about 560,000 is considered by demographer Alexei Raksha to be greatly overstated.

Occupied Crimea has barely traded with the outside world for 12 years, and its ports have stood idle. Integration into Russia suffocated many small businesses, as activities such as fishing, gathering wild plants, conducting tours, going out to sea by boat, and selling crops from household plots all became heavily regulated. As a result, the private sector in Crimea, as across Russia, has steadily shrunk, while the state-funded sector has grown. After annexation, the number of officials in Crimea doubled, and in Sevastopol it tripled.

The private sector has been steadily shrinking under the weight of expanding regulation, while the public sector continues to grow

In addition, high real estate prices, low wages, and years of cuts to higher education institutions have driven young people out of Crimea, leading to an aging population, as retirees from Russia's colder regions have taken their place. The image of an all-Russian retirement home is not far from reality: shortly before the war, the state was supporting 60% of Sevastopol's population. Considering that the state is also the primary client for many local businesses, the share of people whose livelihoods depend on government spending is even higher — especially now, as entrepreneurs continue to leave Crimea as well.

Paradoxically, however, this dependence on public spending makes Crimea's stagnant economy relatively resilient to wartime shocks. Even in places where fuel, electricity, and gas are unavailable, pensioners and public-sector employees continue to receive their modest payments. Putin-era construction projects also continue — including the yacht marina in Balaklava, the cultural cluster in Sevastopol, and new residential developments. Streams of budget funding continue to flow through the economy's capillaries, sustaining retail trade, transportation, services, and private healthcare. Even if tourism were to disappear entirely, Crimea could remain in this state of budget-funded slow motion for quite some time — provided its transport and utility links are not completely severed.

In its filing, Ukraine is asking the court to overturn the IOC’s decision to reinstate the Russian committee. Kyiv believes the decision was made “prematurely and without proper verification” that the violations which led to the initial ban had been remedied.

The central issue is the Russian Olympic Committee’s activity in the occupied territories of Ukraine, which Russia continues to regard as part of its own sporting space. It was precisely the inclusion of Olympic councils from the occupied Ukrainian territories that led to the suspension of the ROC’s IOC membership in October 2023.

However, in early July, an IOC commission concluded that these violations had been addressed sufficiently. In December 2025, the ROC removed the Olympic councils of all occupied regions from its membership and pledged not to operate in the annexed Ukrainian territories. However, Sports Minister and ROC head Mikhail Degtyarev later insisted that the ROC had “not renounced any territories”:

“Nobody surrendered anything. The Olympic Committee operates across all of Russia; 89 Olympic councils have been dissolved. These are vestigial entities that have done nothing for 30 years and, all told, have burned through more than a billion rubles... We dissolved all 89 of them, and in doing so pulled the legal rug out from under the International Olympic Committee. They had nowhere left to turn and had to restore our status,” he said (as quoted by the state-owned news agency TASS)

The ROC’s reinstatement also rescinds all previously standing recommendations requiring Russian athletes to compete exclusively under neutral status. However, the IOC will not hold events in Russia and will not invite Russian officials to events under its auspices. Following this move, several sports federations announced the reinstatement of Russian athletes (1, 2), though there were also exceptions.

Ukraine is not alone in opposing the decision. Nine EU countries previously called on the European Commission to strip the IOC and other international sports organizations of funding over the admission of Russian athletes.

As the Ukrainian Air Force stated, Russia used 358 aerial attack weapons: 74 missiles, along with 284 drones of various types. The military recorded four Zircon and Oniks anti-ship missiles, 9 Iskander-M, S-400, and KN-23 ballistic missiles, and 61 Kh-101 and Kalibr cruise missiles. The main directions of attack were the Kyiv and Lviv regions.

Ukrainian forces said they downed or jammed 320 targets: one ballistic and 54 cruise missiles, as well as 265 drones. However, 20 sites were hit by a total of three anti-ship, six ballistic, and two cruise missiles, as well as 17 strike drones. Information on eight more missiles is still being verified.

One missile struck residential buildings in the village of Radushne near Zelensky’s hometown of Kryvyi Rih. According to data from the head of the regional military administration, Oleksandr Hanzha, six people were killed, including a six-year-old girl and boys aged 11 and 17. Zelensky said their parents were also killed, while two other children survived. Eight people were injured. A separate strike on the Nikopol district injured two people. 

In Kyiv, one person was killed, and another two were injured. Rescuers fought fires at a market in the Obolon district — at a garage cooperative, and at a five-story non-residential building in the Sviatoshyn district. In the village of Skybin in Kyiv Region, a two-story private home was partially destroyed and two neighboring houses were damaged. Five people were injured, including a child; three were pulled from the rubble.

In Lviv, two apartment buildings and non-residential facilities were damaged. According to Ukraine’s State Emergency Service, eight people were injured and seven more were rescued. Debris removal is ongoing at the site of the strike. Strikes also hit the Poltava, Kharkiv, Mykolaiv, Sumy, Vinnytsia, Cherkasy, and Ivano-Frankivsk regions.

Zelensky linked the consequences of the attack to delays in supplying Ukraine with defenses against Russian ballistic missiles:

“This Russian terror once again proves: protection from the Russian missile threat is the most critical task in saving the lives of our people. And this is a task that cannot fall to Ukraine alone, to one country alone. All partners know how and with what means they can help. The delays in aid, the delays in deliveries of anti-ballistic missiles — these lead to the destruction and casualties that we are, sadly, witnessing today. It is vital to uphold the protection of life. Thank you to all who are truly helping!”

Russia’s Ministry of Defense confirmed the mass attack, claiming that its targets were military airfields, defense industry facilities, telecommunications and logistics centers, and three dry cargo ships near Odesa. The ministry provided no evidence for these claims. The Russian Defense Ministry then published an image with the caption: “We’re setting the morning ablaze, we’re lighting up the sky.”

Production of electric motors for drones is being actively moved to Russia, evidenced by Russian customs data from 2024 and 2025, which show imports worth millions of dollars of machines used to wind coils for electric motors. Recipients of the coil-winding machines included companies based in the Alabuga special economic zone. The Insider also confirmed the large-scale supply of production lines when investigators contacted one Chinese manufacturer while posing as prospective Russian buyers.

Should the sector manage to take off, Russia’s military-industrial complex will no longer need to buy motors from China

Should the sector manage to take off, Russia’s military-industrial complex will no longer need to buy motors from China and could reduce its dependence on imports in drone production by at least one-third. According to the Conflict Intelligence Team, weaponized first-person view (FPV) drones, which are piloted through a live video feed, account for 70% to 80% of losses at the front in Ukraine.

As The Insider previously reported, almost all Russian FPV drones are assembled in Russia but are made entirely from Chinese parts. Cheap drone motors have remained a critical product feeding Putin’s war machine in recent years, as Russia has long been unable to master commercial production of the component, which consists of copper wire coils, magnets, iron for the stator base, ball bearings, and simple electronics (here’s how drone motors are produced). As a result, the small motors are still purchased from China.

Two years ago, reports said Russia had opened its own engine plant in Ufa.

“Electric motors are the Achilles’ heel of all our attack and reconnaissance drones, from FPV drones to Lancets. Until recently, this was 100% imported, and supplies could be cut off at any moment. Delivery problems have already occurred. Customs authorities in some ‘friendly’ countries in Southeast Asia have sometimes turned around entire containers of components. Manufacturers lost significant money, and the front did not receive these important tools of modern warfare. But now a full-cycle microelectric motor plant has begun operating in Russia,” the report on the launch read.

However, the company described in that report has shown no publicly available sign that it actually exists. Similarly, Russian robotics firm NPO Androidnaya Tekhnika (“Android Technics”) also reported in 2023 that it had begun producing motors, but no advertising for motors made by the company could be found.

Who has already imported equipment to produce drone motors in Russia

Nevertheless, in 2026, Russia appears to be moving actively towards solving the problem of mass production. The process of conveyor assembly for a motor is not particularly complex, according to the website of Pro Technology, a Russian company that sells winding machines. In 2025, the firm imported Ningbo Nide Mechanical Equipment winding machines purchased from the Chinese firm Danyang Hongli Equipment.

Russia, however, still does not produce modern or efficient winding machines for electric motors. An industry expert told The Insider that Russia has almost no specialists left who can create a modern stator-winding machine. That means if motors are to be produced in Russia in the required quantities — millions a year — production will have to rely on imported winding machines — which is why Russia is buying such equipment from China.

In February 2026, the Russian state news agency TASS reported that Motorsky, a company that is resident at the Skolkovo innovation center, had launched production of coils with a capacity of 10,000 units a month. The Kremlin-aligned newspaper Kommersant had earlier reported about the company’s production site in the city of Perm. That report and Russian corporate registry data show that the business is linked to businessman Yevgeny Poshvin. Arbitration court records show that another company linked to Poshvin, Ormiga LLC, imported winding machines made by Tianjin Grewin Technology.

Customs data confirm that Eurasia-Group supplies machines for producing FPV-666 drone motors. In 2025, Kompaniya Eurasia LLC imported a two-station stator winding machine. On the Chinese side, the supplier was Shanghai Fuhuiwang Supply Chain Management.

Among the Russian buyers of industrial units for motor production is Flytechnology LLC, which bought a winding machine made by Shenzhen Jhy Technology in 2023 and is likely involved in organizing production.

How Chinese companies sell the technology

A researcher from the Nordsint project, posing as a nonexistent Russian company, contacted major winding-machine manufacturer Ningbo Nide International through the official email address listed on its website.

The company does business around the world, including in the United States as Nide USA LLC and in Europe as Wintech SRL. In the production lines it supplies, it uses technology belonging to Siemens (for servo drives), Hikvision, Airtac (for pneumatics), Hiwin, Autonics (for photoelectric sensors), Schneider Electric (for low-voltage equipment), NSK (for bearings), ABB (for robots), Sick, and Mitsubishi Electric (for servo drives). According to Nide’s own materials, its clients include Almaz-Antey, the Russian state defense concern that makes air defense systems, and the Alabuga special economic zone.

In correspondence with Nide, Nordsint said its “company” wanted to assemble an analogue of the KVN drone, short for Knyaz Vandal Novgorodsky, or “Prince Vandal of Novgorod.” The drone is known for its widespread use in Russia’s war against Ukraine. Nide was ready to sell production lines even after being told the drones were intended for military use, in violation of Chinese export restrictions.

A Nide representative named Dima Zhao replied from the company’s official nide-group.com domain, sending Nordsint a booklet describing drone assembly lines and a price offer. The company offered to supply an entire assembly line, not just stator winding machines.

Zhao also said the company had already supplied “many” production lines to Russia and that the proposed assembly line was identical to one Nide was currently supplying to “a Moscow company.” Zhao invited the buyers to visit the company’s stand at a drone expo in Kazan in July. The price offer exceeded 16 million yuan — $2.3 million.

According to customs data, in 2025 Nide supplied motor-making equipment, including winding machines, stamping presses, and parts for them, to the Russian companies Flytechnology, Eurasia, Pro Technology and Powertech.

In its offer to Nordsint, Nide said it was ready not only to supply the equipment, but also to install it for an extra 379,000 yuan ($56,000). The company would cover hotel accommodation, airline tickets, visas, and insurance, while the customer would pay for meals, local transportation, and interpreters. Payment was proposed through VTB’s branch in Shanghai.

What the production line includes

Production of stator blanks:

Rotor assembly:

Stator assembly:

Motor assembly:

Other equipment:

At full capacity, the production line offered by Nide could turn out one motor every 15 seconds. A recent video from the manufacturer explains how a conveyor for drone motors works.

The mass rollout of military drone production in Russia could be stopped by imposing sanctions on those supplying industrial lines to Russian weapons producers and by shutting down the Chinese branch of VTB. That branch, as this and other investigations by The Insider have repeatedly demonstrated, is one of the key participants in the payment process for deliveries of sanctioned parts, at the same time constantly violating Chinese laws, which prohibit export of dual-use goods, drone parts in particular.

The stages of Ukraine’s campaign against Russia’s oil refineries

Ukraine began carrying out its first strikes on Russian refineries in June 2022, but they were rare and caused little damage. In 2022-2024, Ukrainian drones carried out 31 raids on oil, gas processing, and petrochemical facilities in Russia, mostly in border regions and with limited damage to production complexes. The drones, which were not yet highly advanced, had three main limitations: they struggled to hit technologically vulnerable parts of refineries, carried relatively small warheads, and were severely limited in range.

In 2025, the situation changed qualitatively. Ukraine’s Unmanned Systems Forces had finally taken shape as a separate branch of the military — and, as is now clear, a formidable one. It was one year ago that Ukraine’s strategy of deep strikes against targets in Russia’s distant rear began to work, and fuel and energy facilities were among its highest priorities.  Ukrainian developers were able to significantly modernize the tactical and technical characteristics of Kyiv’s drones, making them far less visible to air defense radars and more resistant to electronic warfare. Their accuracy also improved.

The attacks escalated. In 2025, there were 77 successful examples — and from August to October alone, there were more of them than in the previous three years combined (34 in three months, compared with 31 for all of 2022-2024). Ukrainian forces began operations against some enterprises on an almost weekly basis while continuing to focus on specific geographic clusters: the Ryazan refinery, along with those in Volgograd, Saratov, Syzran, Novokuibyshevsk, and Kuibyshev.

In 2026, Ukraine’s military managed not only to scale up its campaign against Russian oil refining across all of European Russia, but also to expand the strike zone to Siberia. Since April, it has maintained a steady level of more than 10 successful attacks per month on refinery production capacity and tank farms. The campaign affects not only oil and gas processing, but also petrochemical plants, oil and gas transport infrastructure, storage, distribution and export facilities for raw materials and finished products, and even extraction assets, including drilling rigs on the Caspian Sea shelf.

In July 2026 alone, five major oil refining facilities halted operations after Ukrainian attacks. The turning point was the attack on the Omsk refinery, Russia’s largest, located about 2,500 kilometers from the combat zone. After the strike on the plant in Omsk, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky said, with good reason, that the very concept of “strategic depth” as one of the Kremlin’s key advantages in the war no longer fully reflects reality, as almost all Russian refineries are now within range of Ukrainian long-range weapons. So far, however, there have been no examples of strikes on the most remote refineries in the Irkutsk Region or Khabarovsk Krai.

From January to July 2026, more than 50 raids on refineries were recorded, including six attacks in the first 10 days of July alone. Until now, Ukraine had not managed to carry out more than 15 such attacks in a month, a level reached in November 2025 and May 2026.

According to some sources, the Moscow refinery, attacked in mid-June, will not be able to restore production until 2027, though some oil and gas industry experts have predicted a shorter timeline. Under sanctions, already difficult and expensive repairs are further complicated by the need to source components and equipment from abroad.

Meanwhile, Ukraine’s defense industry is building increasingly long-range drones. The FP-1 model that reached the Omsk refinery carried a 60-kilogram warhead and had built-in control modules with elements of artificial intelligence.

No countermeasure

As of mid-2026, all of Russia’s largest refineries other than those in Eastern Siberia are within range of Ukrainian strike systems and have experienced at least one successful attack on production capacity and/or tank farms. Some of these facilities have already been hit in more than 10 recorded raids, which appears to be creating a cumulative damage effect that has lengthened repair times.

Although there is still no confirmation that the campaign against oil refining capacity is directly limiting the Russian armed forces’ battlefield capabilities, its importance to the broader course of the conflict is significant. For the first time since the start of the war, Russians across the country are facing costs that directly affect their daily lives.

The shock of the fuel crisis is not only feeding into public attitudes, but also undermining socioeconomic stability, generally raising the “price” the Kremlin pays to continue the war. Notably, the Trump administration considers strikes on oil refineries an “escalation” of the sort that could ultimately lead to peace.

Even more notable is that no clear solution to Ukrainian raids appears to be in sight. Vladimir Putin has so far put forward only two more or less concrete proposals: increasing air defense coverage for fuel and energy facilities, and developing a network of mini-refineries.

In a conversation with propagandist Pavel Zarubin published June 28, Putin said:

“The first task is to quickly and substantially increase production of the most in-demand air defense systems. To constantly improve them in line with the needs of conducting combat operations and protecting the relevant facilities, taking into account what the enemy is using — the issue is the speed of increasing their production and delivery to the troops, or for protecting critical infrastructure facilities... We need to come out of repairs faster, we need to arrange the necessary volume of imports and, as I have already said, reliably protect these facilities.”

The problem with this proposal is that air defense production cannot be increased quickly, given demand for other military products. More importantly, it is impossible to reliably protect dozens of large industrial complexes in different parts of the country with air defense systems. Even the Moscow refinery, located behind several rings of air defense, was hit during a massive aerial attack. Russia will not have the resources to create similar rings around other facilities in the foreseeable future.

It is impossible to reliably protect dozens of large industrial complexes in different parts of the country with air defense systems

Putin later backed the idea of developing mini-refineries, saying that “the wider the network, the harder it is to damage it.” That proposal looks even stranger given the fact that nothing prevents Ukrainian drones from attacking smaller facilities; in addition, developing a network with any meaningful refining capacity would cost hundreds of billions of rubles and require years of construction, regulatory approvals, and the creation of logistics and sales networks.

In the same conversation with Zarubin, Putin spoke about a rejected proposal for both sides to refrain from attacking targets deep in the rear, saying that “retaliatory strikes deep into Ukrainian territory are much more powerful, painful, and, frankly speaking, destructive, leading to truly serious consequences for the Kyiv regime.” He was unable to explain what those consequences were.

Consequences of the fuel crisis

Strikes on oil refineries have led to a gasoline shortage. By July, The Insider had recorded fuel disruptions, shortages or restrictions at gas stations in 88 of the 89 regions controlled by Russian authorities. Officials initially blamed logistical problems, but later even they acknowledged that there was less fuel than needed.

In June, Russia’s average daily oil refining fell by between 25% and 28%, according to estimates by Reuters analysts and Sergei Vakulenko, a senior fellow at the Berlin-based Carnegie Russia Eurasia Center — from 5.3 million barrels per day to 3.9 million barrels per day. Estimates are necessary due to the fact that Rosstat, Russia’s state statistics agency, has not published precise data on petroleum product output since 2024.

Those estimates are indirectly supported by other data. From June 16 to 22, retail gasoline prices rose by a record 3%, the largest increase since 2010. In July, both gasoline and diesel continued to rise in price — indirectly confirming that there is indeed a shortage, despite Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov’s efforts to claim otherwise. Peskov called the situation a “buckwheat effect,” a Russian phrase referring to panic buying and a one-time price spike driven by media-fueled alarm rather than by a sudden drop in supply.

Retail gasoline prices rose by a record 3% from June 16 to 22, the largest increase since 2010

Industrial statistics also confirm the drop in refining. The separate line for gasoline has been removed from reports, but Rosstat continues to publish data on the production of “coke and petroleum products.” In May, that output fell 13% year-on-year.

Gasoline usually accounts for about 16% to 18% of total refining, Vakulenko noted. But according to the latest estimates, Russia is producing about 840,000 barrels of gasoline per day, only 15% less than in the first half of June 2025, when total refining stood at 5.3 million barrels per day.

By comparison, during the previous fuel crisis — in September 2025 amid a less destructive wave of Ukrainian strikes — gasoline production fell by only 6%, roughly in line with the seasonal increase in demand.

That means refining has now fallen more sharply than gasoline production. How can the shift in proportions be explained? “This suggests they have started using naphtha,” Vakulenko said. Only about 60% of the gasoline fraction previously went into gasoline production, while 40% remained straight-run gasoline, or naphtha. Before sanctions, naphtha was exported to Europe, which was more profitable than selling deeply refined gasoline. Now naphtha is the most obvious resource for increasing gasoline supply. Refineries whose operations have not been disrupted can significantly increase gasoline output by adding additives to naphtha.

Diesel is rising in price at roughly the same pace as gasoline, even though there should be no diesel shortage. Russia produces almost twice as much diesel as it consumes domestically, especially in summer (though the story of winter diesel is more complicated). The rest is typically exported. But now diesel exports have been banned since July 9, gasoline exports have been banned since April, and jet fuel exports since June. Even so, diesel supply disruptions were recorded in June in the Voronezh, Saratov, Omsk, Irkutsk, and Vladimir regions, as well as in parts of the North Caucasus. The problem appears to be logistics rather than production: fuel is physically not reaching the places where it is needed in time.

Who in Russia needs gasoline?

The crisis has hit not only motorists but also businesses that need industrial volumes of fuel and buy it from oil depots or by full tanker trucks of 20,000 to 30,000 liters. There, prices are rising by far more than a ruble a week. For many, again, the problem is not gasoline but diesel.

“On Friday, colleagues in the forestry sector were quoted 140 rubles per liter of diesel at an oil depot in the Leningrad Region. They suspended operations,” one participant said.

Rosstat’s official diesel price in the Leningrad Region is 83 rubles per liter. 

The crisis has hit not only motorists but also businesses that need industrial volumes of fuel

In the Moscow Region and neighboring areas, market participants say prices have reached 200 rubles in the forestry sector, which uses about three liters of diesel to cut one cubic meter of timber.

It is not only about money. The Russian authorities have created some of the problems for businesses themselves by banning gas stations from filling large canisters with gasoline, allowing fuel only to be pumped into vehicle tanks. The ban did not stop gasoline resellers, as they drain gasoline into personal canisters, then return to fill up again. Online marketplaces, acting on a recommendation from the Federal Antimonopoly Service, are already blocking ads for fuel sales, meaning a gray market has already developed to the point that it was visible to regulators.

But tracked special equipment usually cannot drive to gas stations, making refueling by canister essential. Now owners are forced either to drain gasoline from private vehicles or increase the load on paved roads.

Limits of no more than 20 liters per purchase have affected taxi drivers, freight carriers, and garbage trucks. Taxi fleets are reporting driver losses of 5% to 20% because going out to work becomes unprofitable when drivers spend several hours a day waiting in line at gas stations instead of taking fares.

In the Vladimir Region, garbage trucks with 200-liter tanks are forced to sit in lines to fill up to the permitted 20 liters. Even Khartiya, the company responsible for waste collection in the region, has been unable to persuade local authorities to raise the limit —  this despite the fact that the firm is owned by Igor Chaika, the younger son of Russia’s former prosecutor general.

The result is missed collection schedules. Nevertheless, regional governor Alexander Avdeyev said “nothing extraordinary is happening” and that the situation is “under control,” a description that does not match reports of problems on the ground.

Freight carriers have faced a double hit. Fuel companies cut discounts on fuel cards at the same time as prices rose. Some carriers are already reducing the geographic scope of their operations, refusing long-haul routes.

One group not facing gasoline problems is electric vehicle owners. For them, charging outside major cities and along highways is simply difficult on a regular basis.

“Against the backdrop of gasoline problems, sales of new electric vehicles have not grown. Dealers have almost none,” wrote Sergei Tselikov, co-founder and director of the Autostat agency. “In June, only 748 new passenger electric vehicles were registered in Russia. That is 22% less than in June of last year. In six months, 4,606 electric vehicles were sold, equal to 0.8% of the market. Despite increased demand, this year’s leading model, the Evolute I-Joy, is almost unavailable for sale. Since the start of the year, 1,350 have been sold, but in June, only 27.”

How is the Kremlin responding?

The government is stimulating gasoline production at small private units and oil depots using additives. It is also encouraging fuel imports. To do this, it expanded special subsidies under the so-called damper mechanism, meaning both importers and private producers will now be able to receive compensation from the budget.

Russian authorities also legalized a reduction in the environmental class of fuel, and some plants may produce Euro 3 gasoline until the end of the year. In the future, the class may be lowered further, possibly to Euro 2.

Trying to solve the shortage through imports carries its own risks. Fuel brought from far abroad, such as India, will be more expensive than Russian fuel. Some experts also cite long delivery times as a disadvantage, though with stable supplies this should not be a problem. But overseas fuel depends on a bottleneck even narrower than Russian refineries: Russian ports. If Ukraine’s armed forces wanted to leave Russia without a drop of gasoline, disrupting that logistical element would not be difficult. That is why imports are an unreliable solution.

If Ukraine’s armed forces wanted to leave Russia without a drop of gasoline, disrupting logistics would not be difficult

Belarus has already increased gasoline and diesel shipments to Russia by orders of magnitude, and talks have been underway on supplies from Kazakhstan, but such sources are not enough to fully cover the shortage.

Imports are also already happening without high-level agreements, through ordinary motorists. Chats in Chita and Zabaykalsk contain numerous offers to refuel cars in Manzhouli, China. Local entrepreneurs offer to drive a car into China, fill it at the nearest gas station, and return it.

What happens if the strikes do not stop

There is currently no reason to believe that Ukrainian strikes on Russian refineries will stop. If Russia’s military does not find a way to counter them, some plants will constantly be under repair, and the fuel crisis will only deepen. Refining will settle below prewar levels, and the shortage will shift from temporary to structural. In that case, a larger share of fuel than now will be distributed by government order.

The army would be the obvious priority. As The Insider has reported, it needs 2 million to 4 million metric tons of gasoline, diesel, and jet fuel a year. That amounts to 2% to 5% of domestic consumption of all three types of fuel. Separately, S&P has estimated that the Russian army in Ukraine consumes 6% of Russia’s total diesel output.

Next would come agriculture, public utilities, municipal public transport, and special transport such as ambulances and cash-in-transit vehicles. It is easy to assume that fuel supplies would also be arranged for delivery of a basic minimum of food. Everyone else, above all private businesses, would have to look for solutions on their own — abroad, by optimizing logistics, or by switching to other energy sources.

The Bank of Russia has slowed its key rate cuts: between June and September 2025, the rate was reduced from 21% to 17% in three steps of one to two percentage points each. Then, from October 2025 to May 2026, five more cuts followed, each of 0.5 percentage points. However, this past June 19, the reduction was the smallest yet — just a quarter of a point, from 14.5% to 14.25%.

Russian financial markets had expected more, and on June 22 the Moscow Exchange index plunged 4.23% in a single day, marking the market’s worst performance since the fall of 2022. By July 7, the index had dropped to 2,190 points, culminating a fall of 20% in just three months.

The Russian Central Bank explains its actions using the theory of aggregate demand and aggregate supply: since the government’s military-heavy budget deficit is increasing aggregate demand beyond expectations, the Bank of Russia must keep the money supply in check by being more conservative with key rate reductions. As Bank of Russia governor Elvira Nabiullina put it in her statement:

“Fiscal policy over the next three years will be more stimulative than what was built into our baseline forecast… The contribution of fiscal policy to money supply growth remains elevated and, given the revision of budget parameters, will continue to exceed our previous assumptions. If lending growth continues at such a high rate under these conditions, this may require us to pursue a tighter policy than envisaged in the baseline scenario. The combined impact through the fiscal and credit channels has already pushed money supply growth to the upper bound of our expectations, and even slightly beyond.”

Nabiullina’s statement that fiscal policy will be “more stimulative” for a full three years means, in effect, that the Central Bank expects the government will run deficits. So how long will the federal budget’s troubles drag on?

The trends in Russia’s federal budget are extremely unfavorable. From January to June 2026, revenues totaled 18.6 trillion rubles, with a year-on-year increase of 5.8%. Expenditure, however, amounted to 24.4 trillion rubles, an increase of 16%. The first-half deficit came to 5.7 trillion rubles — 70% more than the 3.4 trillion accumulated over the same period in 2025. It also exceeded the full-year 2026 deficit target by a factor of one and a half.

However, May and June were far better than the first four months of the year. From January through April inclusive, at least 1 trillion rubles were added to the federal deficit each month. In May, however, the deficit amounted to just 130 billion rubles, and in June, for the first time since September 2025, federal revenues exceeded expenditure, with the surplus coming in at 280 billion rubles. The June fiscal success is striking when compared with the previous year — when a deficit of 660 billion rubles was recorded. Over the whole of 2025, there were only three months with a budget surplus: March, August, and September. In 2026, March delivered a trillion-ruble shortfall, even if June came in positive.

For the full year 2025, the federal deficit was 5.645 trillion rubles — five times the figure initially set by the budget law. As a share of GDP, however, this amounted to just 2.6%.

The law of lawlessness

A great deal of uncertainty has been introduced by Russia’s hastily adopted 2026 law on the special features of the budget process (No. 195-FZ of 26.06.2026). Its draft was submitted by the government on June 8; that same day, it passed through the relevant committee and the legal department of the State Duma apparatus with a recommendation to adopt it immediately, without amendment. By June 10, the document had already been passed in its first reading, with no votes against (380 in favor, 70 did not vote). The law’s main purpose is to allow the Finance Ministry to adjust the budget process quickly, without the need for additional parliamentary approval or undue public scrutiny. This applies above all to the size of the deficit and borrowing levels (article 5 in the table below).

The general thrust of all the provisions included in the law is clear: to expand the government’s powers while weakening legislative and parliamentary oversight. The government will decide for itself how much to spend and borrow, what liability standards should apply to shipbuilders who miss delivery deadlines, and how much and on which products the technology levy should be charged.

Many of the measures are presented as temporary and short-term, applying only in 2026 or even for specific months only. For example, the change relating to alcohol and spirit excise duties is set to apply from August 1 to Dec. 31 of this year. The technology levy was initially due to be introduced on Sept. 1, but it has now been postponed to Dec. 1. It is also unknown what revenue, expenditure, and deficit figures will now be considered target levels for the federal budget (or how many times these benchmarks may change over the remaining six months of the year).

With a State Duma entirely subservient to the Kremlin, it would not be difficult to stage a formal ritual every month in which the government submits amendments to the current year’s budget and parliament rubber-stamps them without scrutiny. However, such ceremonies appear to have been deemed tedious — and perhaps even politically dangerous. A less public process for revising budgetary targets will attract less attention, raise fewer questions, and perhaps do less visible damage to the authorities’ credibility.

A less public process for revising budgetary targets will do less visible damage to the authorities’ credibility

For businesses and investors, however, this means greater risk and uncertainty. If even a government equipped with a powerful coercive apparatus cannot responsibly forecast its own revenues and expenditures for the next six months, what planning horizon can private individuals realistically have?

Oil and gas revenues: the Persian Gulf inferno brought no warmth

The war in the Persian Gulf and its aftermath significantly reduced the global supply of oil. This seemed highly advantageous for the Russian oil and gas sector, which was even partially exempted from U.S. sanctions from April 17 to June 17.

As a result, since March average prices for Russian Urals crude have remained above last year’s levels. However, the windfall is shrinking, with prices in June coming in at $63.5, compared with $59.8 a year before.

Source: Russian Ministry of Energy

And even the gains that Russia did receive were leveraged poorly. Oil and gas revenues for the federal budget in the first six months of 2026 amounted to only 3.7 trillion rubles — 23% below last year’s level of 4.7 trillion rubles. A breakdown by month shows that the most favorable month in 2026 so far was April, when Urals was selling for around $95 per barrel. That month, oil and gas contributed 856 billion rubles to the budget — yet in April 2025, when a barrel cost $55, the budget received 1.086 trillion rubles.

Source: Russian Finance Ministry

Two months ago, The Insider reported that in an optimistic scenario for the Russian budget, oil and gas revenues would come in at just under 1 trillion rubles per month — and in the inertial scenario, at 600–700 billion rubles per month. It is now clear that revenues exceeded 700 billion only in April, while in May and June they have held at precisely the inertial range. The relative settling of the situation in the Persian Gulf and Russia’s mounting losses from Ukrainian strikes on oil infrastructure offer little prospect of improvement.

Other revenues: the tax squeeze at full force

While oil and gas revenues are down, the intake from other sources was 16% higher from January to June 2026 than a year before. VAT receipts from production and imports (8.6 trillion rubles) grew 23%. Domestic VAT receipts for January-May (5 trillion rubles) were up 33%. Even corporate income tax collections came in nearly 8% higher than in the same period last year. Excise duties, however, showed no growth (—0.1%), and import-related revenues posted negative dynamics: -2% on import VAT (1.7 trillion rubles), and -11% on import duties (387 billion rubles).

The growth in domestic VAT revenues is explained by higher rates and an expanded scope of the tax. The new policy has harmed production, consumption, and investment in the country. A heavier tax burden, the diversion of people and resources from peaceful production to military needs, prohibitive regulatory measures, the erosion of property rights and legal guarantees, environmental unpredictability, and direct destruction and casualties are combining to hold economic growth to a minimum. According to estimates by the Ministry of Economic Development, GDP grew 0.2% in the first five months of 2026, and industrial production rose 0.4%, including 0.3% in manufacturing. Still, despite the obstacles, according to official data consumer spending was up 4.5% and real wages grew by 7.8%.

Meanwhile, the Ministry of Economic Development acknowledges that agricultural production in 2026 is not expanding, wholesale trade has risen only 0.6%, and freight transport volumes have fallen 1.1% (excluding pipeline transport, which experienced a 1.0% growth). Construction has fared even worse, with volumes dropping 7.4%.

The most troubling macroeconomic indicator has been investment in fixed capital. In the first quarter of 2026, investment was 14.3% lower than in the first quarter of 2025 — a clear sign of an acute crisis. Investment volumes have been falling for four consecutive quarters, and the pace of decline is accelerating.

Source: Russian Ministry of Economic Development

In general terms, declining investment means the economy is creating fewer capital goods — buildings, machinery, tools, valuable inventories, and everything else that enables productivity growth. Such dynamics typically foreshadow a fall in consumer goods production (a category that includes weapons consumed by the state), as production cannot be sustained at previous levels without sufficient equipment.

That said, Russian statistics frequently classify expenditures that do not benefit any productive sector — such as money poured into outright loss-making projects that serve officials and politicians purely for prestige or window-dressing — as “investment.” In other words, this data should be treated with caution. When Rosstat was showing an “investment boom” in 2023—2024, that was not to be believed, and today’s “collapse” is — likewise — presumably not quite as extreme as it appears. And in any case, the official negative investment record has yet to be broken: in the first quarter of 2009, investment was 15.4% lower than a year earlier.

The present “collapse” in capital investment is likely not as extreme as it appears

The contraction is not confined to construction and transport but also affects multiple manufacturing industries: the metals complex (-4.7% for January-May 2026), light industry (-4.6%), woodworking (-8.1%), and coke and petroleum products (-4.9%). In the engineering complex, growth (7.6%) is driven exclusively by military subsectors, namely “other vehicles and equipment” (+31.3%) and “computers, electronics, and optics” (+2.1%). In the chemicals sector, overall growth of 1.4% is sustained entirely by the “pharmaceuticals and medical materials” component (+14.2% for January-May and +22.2% in May 2025 relative to May 2026). However, this “medical boom” most likely reflects the massive demand for treatment resulting from the war.

Although the state has extracted more corporate income tax from businesses than last year, the overall volume of taxable profits is not growing. The table below compares corporate income tax receipts with the profits and losses of Russian non-financial organizations for January-April over the past three years (excluding small businesses and the public sector).

Sources: Rosstat [1, 2], Finance Ministry

The share of loss-making enterprises in the first four months of the year has been growing, from 30% in 2024 to 31% in 2025 to 35% in 2026. Increasing the tax burden against this backdrop can only worsen an already worrying trend.

The military spending tsunami is being concealed

With a six-month expenditure of 24.4 trillion rubles, average monthly outlays came to just over 4 trillion. In the past two months, the Finance Ministry has shown relative restraint, spending 3.19 trillion rubles in May and 3.56 trillion in June. However, this is likely the result of a seasonal effect: the Telegram analytics channel Tverdye Tsifry (“Hard Numbers”) noted that “expenditure for the second month in a row is staying at the upper end of the seasonal norm.”

Hypothetically, even if all remaining months of the year prove to be as successful as the anomalous June, full-year federal revenues would come to 41.7 trillion rubles and expenditure to 45.7 trillion, meaning a deficit of 4 trillion. In short, even if June’s favorable outcome were to be repeated six more times, the budget would still fail to meet its targets: expenditure of 44.1 trillion and a deficit below 3.79 trillion rubles.

The expenditure breakdown is known only from the Treasury’s report for the first quarter and only for the unclassified portion. At the level of the official functional classification, it is as follows:

Source: Russian Treasury 

The indicated figures understate military spending. For example, the “Social policy” section contains a great deal of genuine military expenditure, as roughly a third of it falls under subsection 1003, “Social support for the population,” which covers one-off signing bonuses for contract soldiers, social payments to mobilized personnel, monthly payments to combat veterans, payments for wounds and disability, and payments to the relatives of servicemen killed or deceased. All of these line items are front-loaded: by the end of the first quarter, they had already been disbursed well in excess of 25% of the annual allocation. The state program “Ensuring the country’s defense capability” accounted for 17% of unclassified expenditure — significantly more than the “National defense” section. In the first quarter, 37% of the full-year appropriation for this program had been spent.

In addition to open expenditure, there is also classified spending. The Treasury reported first-quarter federal budget expenditure of 7.93 trillion rubles, while the Finance Ministry put the figure for the same period at 12.89 trillion. The difference of 4.96 trillion represents expenditure whose purpose is classified, which amounts to an unprecedented 38.2% of total spending. If Janis Kluge’s estimate that 85% of classified expenditure has a military purpose is correct, then the military absorbed 46% of federal budget appropriations in the first quarter of 2026.

In the first quarter of 2026, the military absorbed 46% of Russia’s federal budget appropriations

This share of military expenditure is itself an all-time high. Comparing first-quarter figures only (traditionally the most militarized), military spending constituted 22% of all expenditure in 2022, 33% in 2023, 39% in 2024, and 41% in 2025 — compared to 46% now.

Source: analysis by Janis Kluge

These figures once again confirm a simple point: were it not for the war, Russia would have a far leaner budget, taxes would be lower, and income and output would actually be growing.

What to spend and where to borrow

Over the past six months, Russia’s official expenditure has exceeded revenues by 5.73 trillion rubles. Over the past 12 months, the accumulated deficit has reached 7.7 trillion rubles, and based on past trends, the budget looks to be on pace to reach a deficit of 9.6 trillion for 2026 alone. However, we cannot rule out that the Finance Ministry will repeat last year’s trick of “normalizing December expenditure.”

Traditionally in Russia, December accounted for around one-sixth of annual budget expenditure, rather than one-twelfth. In 2023 and 2024, December accounted for 17-19% of all spending, and it was reasonable to expect something similar in 2025. However, the Finance Ministry had promised in the first half of the year that this December spending anomaly would be less pronounced — and it kept its word. Last December accounted for only 13.4% of annual expenditure. In 2026, the Finance Ministry promises that the reduction of the December anomaly will continue.

However far the “normalization” of December goes, the month is still likely to see the highest outlays of the year. Given that in March and April 2026 the federal budget was spending 4.7 trillion rubles a month. Logically, given that this year’s overall level of expenditure is running around 16% higher than last year’s average, a similar trend should hold in December as well — putting December federal expenditure in the ballpark of 6.7 trillion rubles, plus or minus two trillion.

This range of estimates makes public finances a major source of uncertainty for the entire economy. Markets cannot see the size of the coming deficit or the sources of its financing. How much will the state borrow through federal loan bonds, and at what rates? No one can tell. And the special law that has been passed allows the government to keep the nation in the dark indefinitely.

A range of estimates of “plus or minus two trillion” makes public finances a major source of uncertainty for the entire economy

Beyond federal loan bonds, the government covers the deficit using liquid National Wealth Fund assets and Treasury cash balances. Other options — such as the sale of illiquid assets or external borrowing — are also available, but these are currently marginal. The NWF’s liquid assets stood at 4.1 trillion rubles on Jan. 1 and at 3.6 trillion on July 1, meaning that less than 10% of the federal deficit accumulated over six months has been financed from this source.

Domestic public debt rose from 30.65 trillion to 32.92 trillion rubles from the start of the year to June 1, covering roughly 40% of the federal deficit. The remainder has been covered by drawing down cash balances and reserves.

The Finance Ministry follows a distinctive seasonal borrowing schedule. In the first three quarters, it borrows relatively little and draws primarily on its reserves. In the final quarter, it borrows at least as much as it did in the preceding nine months. Reserves are then replenished, and total annual borrowing roughly equals the annual deficit. This pattern held in both 2024 and 2025, and the first half of 2026 looks to be following a similar pattern.

There are occasional deviations, however. In 2023, the borrowing season fell on the second rather than the fourth quarter — a shift explained by fairly straightforward logic: from mid-2023 onward, the Bank of Russia began hiking up its key rate, marking the start of an unfavorable period for borrowers. Clearly knowing in advance that rates would rise, the Finance Ministry wisely placed the bulk of its bond issuances before this moment.

So where do things stand as of mid-2026? The Bank of Russia is warning against expecting any meaningful rate cuts, causing anxiety in the financial markets in the process. And the Finance Ministry, unlike in 2023, has not placed the bulk of its bond issuances ahead of the usual schedule, meaning it will have to borrow later and at a higher cost. In this context, the Central Bank’s statement that it must tighten its policy to offset the government’s excessive looseness sounds quite confrontational.

The state of Russia’s federal budget cannot yet be described as a crisis, but its management is unpredictable and subject to arbitrary decision-making. The budget is destabilizing the economy and generating uncertainty, choking off any positive momentum under the weight of military spending and a chaotically growing national debt. In the meantime, the permanent emergency mode is wearing down the productive capacity of the vast majority of economic actors.

In April 2025, Moscow suspended the Taliban’s terrorist designation. Two months later, Russia became the first, and so far the only, country to recognize the Taliban as the official government of Afghanistan.

Russia became the first, and so far the only, country to recognize the Taliban as the official government of Afghanistan

At first glance, Russia’s embrace of the Taliban appears puzzling. Afghanistan’s economy is deeply strained from decades of war, the Taliban faces sweeping international sanctions over human rights abuses against women and girls, and trade between the two countries is limited. So what does Moscow have to gain?

Afghanistan offers a rare opportunity for Russia to expand its influence on the cheap. The Taliban wants recognition and security cooperation. Russia can provide both without significant costs. In return, Moscow gains leverage in a country that sits at a geopolitical crossroads, with existing ties through Afghanistan’s ethnic Tatar community. Given the minimal investment required to position itself as Afghanistan’s primary security partner, Russia sees little reason to stay on the sidelines.

Affordable foreign policy

Since launching its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, Russia has seen its ability to project power abroad narrow considerably. It has lost influence following the overthrow of ally Bashar al-Assad in Syria, the U.S. capture of Nicolas Maduro in Venezuela, and Armenia’s ongoing pivot away from the Kremlin.

Afghanistan presents a strategic opportunity to preserve Russia’s shrinking influence. Following the U.S. withdrawal in 2021, Russia has worked to position itself as Afghanistan’s primary security partner in a bid to replace Western influence in the region. But Moscow’s engagement with the Taliban actually predates the withdrawal. The Insider has previously reported on Russia’s military intelligence agency financing the Taliban prior to the 2021 takeover, meaning Moscow had already cultivated back channels with the group long before it officially recognized them as Afghanistan’s official government.

Russia has worked to position itself as Afghanistan’s primary security partner in a bid to replace Western influence in the region

The military-technical agreement reflects the constraints of Moscow’s post-2022 foreign policy. Overstretched and resource-depleted, Russia has had to find lower-cost strategies to maintain its international presence. Repairing Russian-made equipment creates long-term institutional links between Afghanistan’s security forces and Moscow while avoiding the financial burden of large weapons transfers or military deployments. “This gives Moscow a sustained presence in the country’s security sector without requiring large financial investments,” explains Giuliano Bifolchi, Research Manager & OSINT Unit Director at SpecialEurasia. What's more, the partnership’s foundations lie in the mutual rejection of values-based diplomacy. Unlike Washington, Moscow has no interest in enforcing liberal reforms or adherence to international human rights norms.

The Tatarstan connection

Russia’s engagement with Afghanistan extends beyond the military sphere. Economic ties between the two countries remain limited, totaling roughly $500 million annually according to Russian government sources, but they point to another dimension of Moscow’s longer-term strategy. A significant share of that trade, around a tenth, flows through the Republic of Tatarstan, which has long served as Russia’s primary regional channel into Afghanistan.

Ethnic Tatar communities have historically resided in northern Afghanistan, and Tatarstan has built on these ties to develop concrete, but limited, links. Tatarstan supplies Afghanistan with KAMAZ trucks, petrochemicals, and halal-certified foods while maintaining cultural ties through an Afghan Tatar cultural museum in Kabul and Tatar language education in select schools in the north. The Taliban has attended the Kazan Forum in Tatarstan since 2023, with this year’s meetings focused on trade and investment. And a proposed Russia-Afghanistan-Turkmenistan trade route would direct more goods from Tatarstan to import-dependent Afghanistan.

“Tatarstan has become a successful channel for cooperation between Russia and Afghanistan,” says Eldaniz Gusseinov, Chief of Research and Co-Founder of Nightingale Int., a geopolitical advisory firm specializing in Central Asia. “Many freight operators note that the movement of goods has become easier under Taliban rule,” Gusseinov continues. However, ambitious projects like the Trans-Afghan Railway remain years away, and Afghanistan’s ongoing conflict with Pakistan — along with widespread landmine contamination — present significant obstacles.

Gusseinov notes that higher-level institutions appear to have identified Tatarstan as a “niche for engagement,” consistent with Russia’s broader pattern of moving to where barriers to entry are low. But economic ties alone do not explain Moscow’s ambitions. To explain its deepening relations with the Taliban, Russia points to counterterrorism efforts; however, the reality is more nuanced.

The limits of counterterrorism cooperation

Russia frames cooperation with the Taliban as a necessary counterterrorism measure against the Islamic State Khorasan Province (ISKP), the regional branch of the Islamic State operating across Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iran, and Central Asia. Since ISKP claimed responsibility for the Crocus City Hall attack in Moscow in 2024, which killed 151 people, Russia has insisted that working with Kabul is essential for combating the group’s regional network.

Russia frames cooperation with the Taliban as a necessary counterterrorism measure

The Taliban has made efforts to counter ISKP, weakening the group through raids, arrests, and targeted killings. But in May, it claimed to have completely eliminated ISKP from Afghanistan, attributing the group’s continued activity to Pakistan rather than acknowledging its ongoing presence on Afghan soil. In addition, Afghanistan’s broader limitations compound the problem further. “The Taliban lacks many of the technical capabilities that supported the former Afghan government, including sophisticated surveillance systems, Western intelligence assistance, and advanced analytical resources,” explains Bifolchi. “As a result, its intelligence picture is often more dependent on human sources and local informants.”

The Taliban has also failed to dismantle militant networks more broadly. Despite claiming victory over ISKP, Kabul continues to allow the presence of al-Qaeda and the Tehrik-i-Taliban Pakistan (TTP), an Islamist militant group whose ties to the Taliban are a major driver of tensions with Islamabad. For Russia, however, even limited access to information inside Afghanistan carries value. Counterterrorism cooperation serves less as an end goal than as a mechanism for embedding Moscow inside Afghanistan’s security establishment long-term.

A gateway to influence in Central Asia

For Moscow, leverage in Afghanistan is a means to greater long-term influence in Central Asia. Russia’s 2023 Foreign Policy Concept identified greater engagement with Afghanistan as a strategic priority, framing it as part of a broader effort to integrate the country into the “Eurasian space” and stabilize a region Moscow considers integral to its security. ISKP attacks, cross-border militancy, and drug trafficking continue to destabilize Afghanistan’s northern neighbors, and the Russia-led Collective Security Treaty Organization (CSTO) military alliance has struggled to produce lasting solutions.

The CSTO has repeatedly discussed the deteriorating situation along Afghanistan’s borders, with its own leadership conceding that contacts with Kabul have not meaningfully improved security. The relationship should not be considered a “purely bilateral issue,” argues Bifolchi, but rather “part of a much broader geopolitical landscape.” At its core, that calculus is about maintaining Moscow’s role as Central Asia’s primary security guarantor, giving it a larger role in managing tensions along Afghanistan’s borders with Tajikistan and Pakistan, both of which maintain adversarial relations with the Taliban.

The agreement also suits the Taliban’s geopolitical interests. Pakistan and Afghanistan have been in open conflict since early 2026, driven by Islamabad’s accusations that Kabul harbours the TTP on Afghan soil. Afghanistan has thus framed the deal with Moscow partly as a deterrent. Upon his return from signing the deal, Afghan Defense Minister Mullah Yaqoob said that “in the near future, we will try to ensure that Pakistan no longer dares to attack [Afghan territory].”

Afghanistan has thus framed the deal with Moscow partly as a deterrent in the conflict with Pakistan

Russia’s interest in Afghanistan also connects to the region’s broader economic potential. China has become Central Asia’s dominant investor, and its growing commercial presence depends on regional stability. Rather than competing with Beijing, Moscow appears content to occupy a complementary role. “Moscow's objective is less about replacing Beijing and more about preserving its own influence,” says Bifolchi, with Russia positioning itself as the region’s primary security guarantor while China remains its dominant economic power.

For Moscow, that division of labor suits its current capabilities. “China’s own stability is closely linked to the stability of Central Asia due to the growth of overland trade and the integration of the two sides,” says Gusseinov. Cooperation with the Taliban gives Russia a foothold in the security architecture that underpins those economic interests. “For China, security is the key point of entry. Russia, meanwhile, appears interested in controlling that key in order to maintain influence over China and preserve its own position in the region,” Gusseinov adds. “Access to the Taliban as a communication channel only strengthens Russia’s hold on that key.”

A controversial exception no more

Russia’s engagement with the Taliban is not about rapid economic returns or decisive counterterrorism victories. Its calculation is longer-term: that establishing itself as Afghanistan's principal security partner today will translate into further leverage across Central Asia tomorrow.

The domestic politics are still catching up to this shift. Just two years ago, writing about the Taliban could result in a criminal case for “justifying terrorism.” Now, Russia has issued its first-ever fine for criticizing the group. “The authorities are increasingly treating engagement with the Taliban as a legitimate component of Russian foreign policy rather than as a controversial exception,” says Bifolchi. “As Russia deepens its engagement with the Taliban, the government faces the challenge of reconciling current policy with historical memory and public perceptions.”

For now, the tangible benefits for Russia remain limited. But with relatively little at stake financially or militarily, Moscow sees more to gain from engagement than from sitting on the sidelines. Whether that calculation pays off remains to be seen, but Russia has positioned itself where few others have been willing to go.