“What’s the point of a world without Russia in it?” asked a well-known politician, now a wanted war criminal, back in 2018. A less prominent Russian figure echoed this sentiment in 2024, though less threateningly, when he remarked, “The disintegration of Russia would be a catastrophe, not only for our country and people but a tragedy for the world."
The first quote belongs to Russian President Vladimir Putin, and the second to one of his biggest critics, dissident Illya Yashin. Despite their many disagreements, both appear oblivious to the root cause of Moscow’s aggression — an empire built on violence and deceit, masquerading as a nation. Neither is willing to confront this foundational lie that anchors their country’s politics, culture, and self-conception.
Age-old Russian colonialism — manifested this century in wars against Ichkeria, Georgia, and Ukraine — endures not through any single leader or regime but through a mindset ingrained in the collective psyche. Rooted in centuries of conquest, Moscow reframes aggression as defense, shielding Russian society from confronting its role in sustaining the empire and its violence.
"Age-old Russian colonialism — manifested this century in wars against Ichkeria, Georgia, and Ukraine — endures not through any single leader or regime but through a mindset ingrained in the collective psyche."
Yashin attributed his fears of Russia’s collapse to the issue of "loose nukes" — a concern well-known to American policymakers. This echoes the famous Chicken Kyiv speech, where U.S. President George H.W. Bush urged Ukrainians to remain in the Soviet Union. While the U.S. was preoccupied with worries about what could go wrong if the Soviet Union ceased to exist, Ukrainians saw this as betrayal.
Sonya Vseliubska
Did Washington truly fail to grasp Russia’s brutal imperial history? Was the Holodomor — a famine engineered by Moscow to kill millions of Ukrainians and crush their national movement — not enough evidence of this?
The new icon of the Russian opposition, Yulia Navalnaya, who took up her late husband’s mantle, offered starkly different arguments: “There are those who advocate for the urgent ‘decolonization’ of Russia, arguing to split our vast country into smaller, safer states. However, these ‘de-colonizers’ can’t explain why people with shared backgrounds and cultures should be artificially divided.”
To grasp how absurd, yet offensive, this statement is, one only needs to recall Putin’s rationale for the criminal war Moscow is waging on Ukraine. The “brotherly people” rhetoric has been used by Russia’s tyrannical rulers for centuries. How did people in Tatarstan, Dagestan, or the Sakha Republic come to “share backgrounds” with Muscovites? Because they were all colonized.
Unlike other empires, Moscow’s didn’t rely on racial exclusion. “Instead, it was based on the no-less violent ‘idea of sameness,’ meaning the colonized were forced to surrender their identity and adopt the norms of the colonizer,” explained Ukrainian philosopher Volodymyr Yermolenko.
Another prominent member of the Russian opposition, Vladimir Kara-Murza, gave an interview to The Guardian and chose to highlight one quote in his recent tweet: “It’s not just the Russian people, in his view, who need to take collective responsibility, but Western leaders too, who ‘for all these years were buying gas from Putin, inviting him to international summits, rolling out red carpets.’”
He is undeniably a brave person, and I am convinced that his intentions are genuine. Yet, even the most enlightened thinkers among the self-professed Russian opposition cannot help but try to find someone else to blame for the war crimes committed by Russians in Ukraine, absolving them of responsibility or at least spreading it thin.
By portraying the Russian people as passive victims of Putin’s regime, opposition figures are paradoxically validating Putinism — the latest reincarnation of a Moscow-centric colonial system of subjugation masked as nationalism. Rather than owning up to collective responsibility, the opposition continues to separate the Russian populace from the actions of their state, effectively reinforcing a culture of denial and complicity rather than challenging it.
"By portraying the Russian people as passive victims of Putin’s regime, opposition figures are paradoxically validating Putinism — the latest reincarnation of a Moscow-centric colonial system of subjugation masked as nationalism."
Kara-Murza’s common appeal to Western leaders can be summarized as: don’t punish the people. Who could argue against it? But the deeper meaning and symbolism matter. If Putin and his clique are to answer for all the wrongs while the 140 million Russians are absolved of their responsibility, how will they learn that apathy enables injustice? And when will they confront Russia's bloodstained history, let alone atone for it?
While many in the West would like to believe that the Russian people are merely victims of state propaganda, the reality is more complicated. Jade McGlynn, in her book “Russia’s War,” argues that “Russia’s war on Ukraine is popular with large numbers of Russians and acceptable to an even larger number.” This complicity cannot be explained solely by fear of the regime. “Putin doesn’t shape Russian views on foreign policy or Ukraine so much as he articulates them,” she explained.
Sonya VseliubskaMcGlynn points out that many Russians accept Moscow's narrative because the alternative — admitting they are complicit in a genocidal war — would be too painful. This mass delusion, coupled with the dehumanization of Ukrainians, sets off a vicious cycle permitting widespread support for or ambivalence toward atrocities.
I’ve encountered two distinct perspectives on the Russian opposition. The first posits that anyone standing up to Putin is on the right side of history and deserves support.
The second contends that figures like Yashin, Navalnaya, and Kara-Murza often do more harm than good — calling for the lifting of sanctions, promising democracy in Russia (which, to me, seems impossible without decolonization), and condemning Putin while failing to confront the deeper sources of Russian aggression: stripping people of their agency, perpetuating a narrative of grievance, and sustaining the grand lie of Russia’s nationhood. I disagree with neither of those views, and both can be true at the same time.
Undoubtedly, there are individuals in Russia or in exile who bravely resist Putin’s regime, but the term "Russian opposition" warrants scrutiny. “Russia” is synonymous with imperialism and subjugation, while “opposition” stands for democracy, freedom, and accountability — concepts that are fundamentally incompatible. As long as Russia clings to its imperial ethos, criticism of Putin will merely confront the consequences, not the root cause of wanton violence.
Editor’s Note: The opinions expressed in the op-ed section are those of the authors and do not purport to reflect the views of the Kyiv Independent.
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