By Eric Vandenbroeck and co-workers
The Limits of Putin’s Balancing Act
Russian President
Vladimir Putin has achieved an eerie calm at home. Shortly after assuming the presidency in 2000, he tied once
independent oligarchs to the state while placating the growing middle class
with rising living standards and greater material comforts. Gradually, he
assembled a ruling ideology from bits and pieces of Russia’s past, one that was
nationalistic enough to inspire pride but not so
nationalistic as to be divisive.
As a result, after a
quarter century in power, Putin has brought Russia to a point of equilibrium.
Russian life can now be soothingly predictable, even if it demands adaptation
at times. Chaos is engulfing the Middle East, American politics can be tempestuous,
and Europe is witnessing its worst war since 1945. But Putin has given Russians
the gift they were most eager to receive: stability. The country is not
enduring visible disruptions or political tumult. Indeed, Russia hardly has any
politics at all—it lacks real political parties and does not stage meaningful
elections. The state, which reserves the right to repress, mostly represses
those who dare to display their disapproval, a vanishingly small minority of
Russians. In this arrangement, the Kremlin retains control and most Russians
can go about their business, provided that their business is unobtrusive.
Another reality
shadows this carefully crafted equilibrium. Putin has long promised Russians a
country gilded with ambition, power, and glory. He stressed a “belief in the
greatness of Russia” as early as his 1999 “millennium manifesto,” an article
published in a Russian daily shortly before he assumed the presidency. In that
essay, Putin implied that Mikhail Gorbachev, the last leader of the Soviet
Union, and Boris Yeltsin, the first president of a post-Soviet Russia, had
brought Russia to its knees, in part by letting post-Soviet states and former
Warsaw Pact countries spin out of its orbit. Putin’s historic task, as he saw
it, was to restore Russia as a major actor on the international stage. At the
2007 Munich Security Conference, he approached the West without any deference,
reproaching the United States and its allies for “unilateral and frequently
illegitimate actions” that had “caused new human tragedies and created new
centers of tension.”
Four months later,
Putin dispatched tens of thousands of Russian troops to Georgia, seizing a
fifth of that country’s territory. In 2014, Russia invaded the Donbas, in
eastern Ukraine, and annexed Crimea. The following year, the Russian military
demonstrated its expeditionary capabilities in Syria. And in 2022, Putin
launched a full-scale war on Ukraine, with the intent of redrawing the map of
Europe and asserting Russia’s global heft.
Yet overreach abroad
has landed Putin in a dilemma. Russia’s foreign policy is increasingly marked
by failure. The war in Ukraine has stalemated. Contrary to Putin’s hopes, U.S.
President Donald Trump’s election in 2024 did not compel the West to abandon
Kyiv. In the Middle East, Israel has assailed Russia’s clients and partners. It
might be tempting to view these developments as harbingers of Russia’s eventual
retreat from Ukraine, but they are not. Putin can afford to lose influence in
the Middle East, which is not an existential theater for him, but he will not
reverse course in Ukraine, where he recognizes no dilemma. If pushed, he would
likely sacrifice Russia’s equilibrium to a mass mobilization and to harshly
coercive measures. Russia’s rise to greatness may be Sisyphean for Putin, but
he will go to extreme lengths to avoid defeat. In Ukraine, Putin will risk
everything.
For him,
equilibrium—the complacency he has inculcated in the Russian population—is in
danger of becoming a faded luxury. The grim
necessity is the war.

An Eerie Calm
Russia’s current
placidity stems in large part from the changes of the past decade. Putin’s
popularity, which has always been high, surged following his annexation of
Crimea, in 2014. Russians greeted a more muscular foreign policy with a pride
that was hard to detect in the late Soviet decades and in early post-Soviet
Russia. This patriotism did not require sacrifice from Russians. After all, the
rupture with the West was limited; the sanctions that Western countries imposed
on Russia in 2014 proved to be weak.
Putin had begun this
balancing act—behaving assertively abroad while insulating the home front from
risk—two decades ago. By 2022, he had perfected it. At first, the public
struggled to understand the full-scale war on Ukraine, but Putin exploited the
conflict to strike patriotic chords and to consolidate devotion to the state.
He was helped by the exodus of many Russians opposed to the war and of dozens
of journalists and media figures critical of the government. Putin had never
welcomed criticism. After 2022, he could stigmatize any attempt at political
opposition as an affront to the war effort. Vaguely defined antiwar sentiment
was criminalized, and many vocal critics went into exile or were imprisoned.
For many of the
Russians who stayed, the war brought opportunity. Economic activity in
defense-related manufacturing sectors took off, and the unemployment rate
plummeted. It currently stands at a historic low of 2.2 percent. The Kremlin
got hundreds of thousands of young men to enlist, enticing them with
substantial sign-up bonuses, while most Russians could ignore the war
altogether. Sanctions and visa restrictions have curtailed some high-end
consumerist pleasures, and vacations in Europe are mostly off limits to
non-wealthy Russians, but many countries continue to export to Russia, and
Russians are free to travel throughout much of Asia, Turkey, the United Arab
Emirates, and the South Caucasus. One can make do and get ahead in Putin’s
Russia without being ardently patriotic—as long as one avoids being notably
unpatriotic.
Unlike Joseph Stalin,
Putin has not maximized the state’s dictatorial potential. The Russian
president has eschewed mass bloodshed internally. Instead, he has become
skilled in the practice of representative violence. There are around 2,000
political prisoners in Russia today. In their growing sum, they form a warning
to everyone else. Although young people are increasingly subjected to
indoctrination, apolitical adults can lead their professional and private lives
largely untroubled by the government. The state rarely makes onerous demands on
the Russian public, mostly leaving the urban and middle classes to their own
devices. Even with mandatory military service, Russians are more or less free
to choose how much or how little to participate in the system. Some opt for a
martial patriotism, voluntarily enlisting or just waving the flag at rallies.
The quiet majority, by remaining quiet, gets to enjoy relative prosperity and
the relative indifference of the state.
Compounding Pressures
The equilibrium that
Putin has fostered, however, is more fragile than it seems. A short, victorious
war in Ukraine would have safeguarded the status quo at home. Successful wars
strengthen the domestic political position of the victors, and Putin might have
spun a narrative of triumph over NATO and over a United States that had once
credited itself for winning the Cold War. On the eve of invasion, Putin may
have had this outcome in mind: a shoring up of Russian nationhood so profound
that it would allow him to anoint a successor and to keep the ship of state
moving along.
But unfortunately for
the Kremlin, the war in Ukraine has been anything but a triumph. By February
2026, the war will have lasted as long as the fight against Nazi Germany did
for the Soviet Union. World War II launched the Soviet Union into superpower status,
whereas Russia’s position in Europe and in the world more broadly is
deteriorating. By pouring vast resources into the war, Moscow has constrained
its military positions elsewhere. In 2023, Russia did nothing when its partner
Armenia lost Nagorno-Karabakh to Azerbaijan. And late last year, it failed to
prevent the fall of Syrian President Bashar al-Assad. Another of Russia’s key
partners, Iran, has been getting pummeled by Israel and the United States,
while Moscow stands helplessly on the sidelines. Russia is increasingly
dependent on China for access to foreign markets and for dual-use goods that
fuel the war effort, but Chinese direct investment and transfers of technology
have been limited.
All told, Russia has
burned through enormous resources in a war it is not winning. Ukraine is itself
very far from victory, but the country’s biggest cities and much of its
territory are beyond the Kremlin’s grasp. The territories that Russia has
managed to occupy do not constitute a vital bridge to Europe. Rather than
flourishing colonies, they are places scarred by immiseration and war.
Ukraine’s talent for technological innovation poses another problem for the
Kremlin. In May, Ukraine orchestrated an extraordinary attack on airbases deep
within Russia. As the war drags on, the Ukrainian armed forces may spring
similarly bold surprises.
Last week, Trump
shifted gears on Ukraine. He has pledged to supply the country with advanced
weaponry, via NATO, and criticized Putin for needlessly prolonging the war.
Meanwhile, Europe is spending more on defense and NATO member states are
stepping up their military coordination. In the unlikely event that the United
States were to altogether abandon Ukraine, Europe will not follow suit.
Prosperous, strong European countries will continue to back Kyiv. And no major
European country is likely to lift sanctions or return to prewar levels of
trade with Russia.
In the face of these
compounding pressures, Putin is not backing down. Determined to win whatever
the cost, he has chosen to subordinate the Russian economy to the war, devoting
more and more resources to producing materiel. Because of sanctions, the loss
of the European market, and the inefficiencies of wartime spending, the Russian
economy is stagnating, with high inflation and ever lower rates of growth. The
Kremlin recently acknowledged that a recession looms. And crises outside of
Russia, such as the collapse of the Iranian government or a global economic
downturn, could make things even worse.

Russian President Vladimir Putin at the Eurasian
Economic Forum, Minsk, June 2025
A Dictatorship Unbound
These developments
could disturb the equilibrium that Putin has so assiduously cultivated. At the
moment, Russians are far from revolting against the regime, but they could
start to turn against the war, refusing to enlist and publicly questioning the
merits of this seemingly endless conflict. In the summer of 2023, the mercenary
chief Yevgeny Prigozhin mounted a small mutiny, dispatching a convoy of tanks
toward Moscow before striking a deal with Putin and, two months later, dying in
a plane crash that was almost certainly orchestrated by the Kremlin. Soldiers
and veterans exhausted and disillusioned by the war could be harder for Putin
to handle. For this reason, the Kremlin has bent over backward to mollify them
with money and privileges. Another potential source of disruption is the
Russian elite itself. Although so far there is no sign of insubordination among
the government-dependent Russians who command wealth and power, some may be
tempted to explore subtle forms of dissent, testing the waters by suggesting
that the war should be moderated, slowed down, or ended.
To suppress potential
political threats, Putin would surely double down on the war, bidding farewell
to his domestic political balancing act. He might agree to temporary
cease-fires and to cosmetic diplomacy, even to the pretense of a negotiated
settlement, but he cannot let go of a simple fact: that Russia’s military, by
his logic, has not accomplished enough. Russia does not control Ukraine, and
any settlement that leaves Ukraine outside of Russian control—that is, a
Ukraine free to integrate into Europe—would amount to a defeat. For the time
being, the war Putin waged to halt Ukraine’s westward turn has only propelled
Ukraine westward. That remains an outcome that Putin will never accept.
Within Russia, Putin
has many options. He commands the infrastructure for mass mobilization,
including the security services and the state-controlled media. He could enact
a ruthless, ideological conscription campaign with harsh punishments for those
unwilling to enlist. If Putin has so far refrained from traveling down this
path, it is not because he is unwilling to deploy coercive power in Russia but
because he is hesitant to destroy the calm that he has so painstakingly
fashioned. Were he to abandon that equilibrium, Putin would end up waging a
fanatic’s war in Ukraine, dragging Russia further in and wreaking ever greater
havoc on the Ukrainian peopleWithin Russia, Putin has
many options. He commands the infrastructure for mass mobilization, including
the security services and the state-controlled media. He could enact a
ruthless, ideological conscription campaign with harsh punishments for those
unwilling to enlist. If Putin has so far refrained from traveling down this
path, it is not because he is unwilling to deploy coercive power in Russia but
because he is hesitant to destroy the calm that he has so painstakingly
fashioned. Were he to abandon that equilibrium, Putin would end up waging a fanatic’s war in Ukraine, dragging Russia further in
and wreaking ever greater havoc on the Ukrainian people. He would be
unrestrained as generalissimo abroad and as tyrant at home. As such, he could
transform a tacit dictatorship into a full-blown one, with a dictatorship’s grim
political prerogatives and a dictatorship’s unbound geopolitical appetites.
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