No dictator lasts for ever. One day Vladimir Putin will be gone. Recent reports suggest growing weakness in the Russian economy, discontent in society and a waning of confidence inside his regime – but it would be foolish to conclude the end is near. Only death or Russia can depose Putin, and nobody knows when or how that will happen. What democracies in Europe and beyond can do is hone a strategy to defeat his external ambitions. Here’s a non-exhaustive list of eight elements of such a strategy.
‘There is profound disappointment in him’: mood in Russia turns against Putin
Increasingly isolated president is determined to press on with Ukraine war, say well-placed sources, despite ailing economy
Pjotr Sauer and Shaun Walker Sunday 24 May 2026
Vladimir Putin pulled up to a hotel in central Moscow earlier in May in a Russian-made SUV, dressed casually in jeans and a light jacket. Carrying a bouquet of flowers, he walked unhurriedly into the lobby and embraced his former schoolteacher Vera Gurevich, who kissed him on both cheeks.
"Osobo vazhnoye zadaniye" (Particularly Important Task)
1980,
Artist Evgenii Vladimirovich Abezgus
Abezgus was a prominent poster artist in the Soviet Union, known for his work with various publishing houses like "Soviet Artist," "Izogiz," and "Plakat," according to Poster Plakat. He also won a prize from the Union of Artists of the USSR for his poster work. The poster itself was printed by Sotsialistichna Kharkivshchina Publishing, and published by Plakat (All-Union Poster) in Moscow. Olympic Games in Moscow 1980 - Poster Plakat * Artist: Abezgus, Evgenii Vladimirovich — Абезгус, Евгений Владимирович Evgenii Vladimirovich Abezgus graduated from the Moscow ... Poster Plakat
Chapter 101
The Golden Age of Russian Film Posters: Art, Revolution, and the Demise of Creative Freedom
Introduction
The period between 1925 and 1930 stands as the pinnacle of Russian film poster design, representing one of the most innovative and visually striking chapters in graphic arts history. This golden age emerged from the revolutionary fervor of post-Bolshevik Russia, where a new generation of avant-garde artists transformed cinema advertising into a bold artistic medium that transcended mere commercial function. These posters became powerful cultural artifacts that captured the experimental spirit of early Soviet society before succumbing to the rigid constraints of state-controlled artistic expression.
Ukrainians I met in Kyiv and Lviv were grimly realistic about the end of the war. We should follow their example
This article is more than 1 year old
Timothy Garton Ash
Friday 24 May 2025
The next time a breathless news anchor talks about the prospect of a war-ending “deal”, with Ukraine “ceding land for peace”, I want to sit them down with Adeline. In Lviv last week, Adeline showed me on her phone map her lost home in Russian-occupied Nova Kakhovka, just across the Dnipro River from the Ukrainian-liberated territory around Kherson. Look, she said, with tears welling up in her eyes, here on this satellite snapshot you can see the ecological disaster that followed Russia’s destruction of the Kakhovka dam in 2023. And here’s the place where she dreamed of setting up a small art gallery. “Why should I give up on my home?” she cried. Why indeed.
In 2003 I published my first novel in Finland, Stalin’s Cows, which dealt with the recent history of Estonia. I was confronted by journalists who called my book “anti-soviet”, at one time a very negative epithet, a word that belonged to the traditional vocabulary of Finlandized Finland. I was also confronted by leftist journalists whose knowledge of the Soviet Union was so flimsy that they asked in amazement why nothing had been written in the Soviet press about the deportations of Estonians, which discussed in my novel.
Scholars and Spies: Experiences from the Soviet Union, Communist Romania, and China
Written On 17 June 2020.
Author: Ivan Franceschini
In response to the renewed emphasis of the central government on national security, in November 2015 the authorities of Jilin province, in northeast China, introduced a hotline to report possible spies. The dilemma was how to recognise a spy. Local officials instructed concerned citizens to look out for eight revealing signs (Yang 2015). First, spies never explained their work with clarity, wore different professional hats at the same time, and had plenty of funding at their disposal. Second, at gatherings they often came up with controversial topics then withdrew in the shadows to observe how people reacted in order to select contacts to develop. Third, foreign correspondents, journalists writing about foreign affairs, missionaries, or people involved with NGOs were all likely to be spies. Fourth, spies had proper business cards, but worked irregular hours and the information on the card did not hold up to closer scrutiny. Fifth, people who had studied abroad in many different countries or whose history of studying overseas did not match their age were most likely spies. Sixth, spies enjoyed asking sensitive questions, especially on politics, military affairs, public opinion, and trade. Seventh, they held regular meetings in this or that place to exchange materials and documents. Finally, they could be found at academic conferences and business meetings, where they often gave reactionary speeches and exaggerated the positive aspects of foreign countries.
Ukrainian service members fire a shell from a M777 Howitzer at a front line in Kharkiv as Russia's war on Ukraine continues. Photograph: Gleb Garanich/Reuters
Russia-Ukraine war: what we know on day 149 of the invasion
Russia and Ukraine expected to sign deal on Friday to resume Black Sea grain exports; Moscow’s forces ‘about to run out of steam’, UK intelligence chief claims
Samantha Lock
Friday 22 July 2022
A deal to resume Ukraine’s Black Sea grain exports is expected to be signed by Ukraine, Russia, Turkey and the United Nations on Friday. The agreement will be put in writing by the parties and signed at the Dolmabahce Palace offices at 1.30pm GMT, the office of the Turkish president, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, said. Ukraine’s foreign ministry spokesperson, Oleg Nikolenko, added: “In summary, a document may be signed which will bind the sides to [ensure] safe functioning of export routes in the Black Sea.”
Units of the Russian Armed Forces enter Kyiv region, Ukraine, in this screengrab obtained from a video by Reuters on March 3, 2022. Photograph: Russian Defence Ministry/Reuters
How many Russian soldiers have died in the war in Ukraine?
Analysis: Some say the country’s losses could rival those of its wars in Chechnya or Afghanistan
Andrew Roth Tue 22 March 2022
It has been three weeks since Russia updated the official death toll to its invasion in Ukraine, leaving open the question of how many of its soldiers have been killed or wounded in the chaotic opening stages of its war.
Humiliated by the 1990s, Russia’s strongman is determined to win Cold War 2.0. He may be succeeding.
Twenty years before Vladimir Putin began his ingenious campaign to influence the U.S. presidential election, his predecessor as Russia’s president stood on a dark street near the White House. In his underpants. Looking for a pizza.
Russian illustrations reimagine Lewis Carroll’s poetry for the apocalypse
August 11, 2020
Children’s classic Alice in Wonderland might be best known for its whimsical original roughs, but Igor Oleinikov’s new series of illustrations of Lewis Carroll’s The Hunting of the Snark — a poem from the timeless children’s tale — instead features men in suits and uniforms, transforming the text with a post-apocalyptic, anti-authoritarian spin.
Written in 1876, the nonsense poem was only published in Russia in 1991, where it became a bestseller with over 40 translations and a range of visual interpretations. The poem follows a crew of 10 trying to hunt the Snark (a creature invented by Carroll), which eventually turns out to be a very dangerous Boojum (another imaginary being, coined by the author).
Krasnodar-born, Berlin-based Oleinikov made the illustrations for a book which will be released later this year, accompanying a new translation of Carroll’s poem by Grigory Kruzhkov. The illustrations will also be available to view at an exhibition in Moscow.
The exhibition is running from 14–25 August at Open Klub in Moscow.
A portrait of journalist Anna Politkovskaya, who was shot as she entered the lift in her block of flats in Moscow 10 years ago. Photograph: Pavel Golovkin/
The murder that killed free media in Russia
This article is more than 5 years old
A decade after the assassination of Anna Politkovskaya, news organisations increasingly avoid topics that could anger the Kremlin
Shaun Walker in Moscow Wed 5 Oct 2016 11.37 BST
No other reporter has been assigned Anna Politkovskaya’s desk in Novaya Gazeta’s newsroom. It remains as a memorial, alongside her photograph and those of other murdered journalists at the newspaper, and as a reminder of the danger of the work.
Ten years after Politkovskaya was shot in the lobby of her apartment block in Moscow, Novaya Gazeta continues to be one of the few outlets for hard-hitting independent journalism in Russia. Its reporters still work from the North Caucasus, one the most dangerous part of the region.
In September, Elena Kostyuchenko, a reporter with Novaya, travelled to Beslan in North Ossetia to cover the 12th anniversary of the siege in which 334 people died, including 186 children.
Politkovskaya had attempted to make the same journey back in 2004, but fainted on the plane on her way there. Doctors believe she was poisoned to prevent her from reporting.
Nevertheless, Novaya worked tirelessly to investigate what happened at Beslan, and published a number of reports suggesting explosives planted by Russian special forces to try to end the siege had been responsible for many of the deaths.
This September, a number of mothers of victims, who have long campaigned for an independent investigation into the events of the siege, planned a protest to mark the anniversary and wore T-shirts bearing the words: “Putin is the butcher of Beslan”.
Kostyuchenko and a photographer who went to cover the event were followed, intimidated, doused in green paint and beaten up during their time in the town. Kostyuchenko spent a week in hospital with concussion after being hit in the head.
Two girls hug in the destroyed school gym in Beslan in 2004. Photograph: Yuri Tutov/AFP/Getty Images
Despite being just 29, Kostyuchenko has already worked for Novaya for 11 years. Her stories include one of the most detailed accounts of the mechanisms by which Russians fought in the contested regions of east Ukraine.
She started writing for the local newspaper in her home town of Yaroslavl as a teenager as a way to make ends meet. “I thought what I was doing was journalism. Then one day when I was about 15 I bought Novaya Gazeta from a kiosk while I was waiting for the dentist, and started to read one of Politkovskaya’s stories about Chechnya. I was in shock and my world was turned upside down. I understood I didn’t know anything about our country. I decided that if I wanted to be a journalist I would have to work for Novaya Gazeta.”
She went to Moscow to study and applied to work at the paper; she has been there ever since. In her first months at the newspaper, Kostyuchenko was too scared to approach Politkovskaya, because she felt too young and inexperienced. “I was scared of looking silly. I thought that I would first become a good journalist, do some work I could be proud of, and then tell her how her writing changed my life.” She never got the chance.
In the decade since Politkovskaya’s death, the space for independent journalism in Russia has narrowed further.
Reporters without Borders activists demonstrate in Berlin in 2009 with images of human rights lawyer Stanislav Markelov, and Novaya Gazeta journalists Anastasia Baburova and Anna Politkovskaya. Photograph: Michael Kappeler/AFP/Getty Images
A number of news sources have been built up into formidable publications, only to be cut back down to size.
The editorial heads of Lenta.ru were replaced by its owner when the news website was seen as taking its Kremlin criticism too far; the independent television station TV Rain was forced to broadcast from an apartment after being kicked out of its studios; and most recently, there was a purge of the newspaper RBC after a string of reports on the wealth of Vladimir Putin’s inner circle and an investigation into one of the president’s daughters.
Angry RBC journalists taped their conversation with the two new editors appointed to take over the newspaper. The new bosses compared the work of the paper to driving: “If you drive over the solid double line, they take away your licence... Unfortunately, nobody knows where the solid double line is.”
In a media landscape where most people steer clear of the solid double lines, another rare independent voice in the Russian media landscape is the New Times, a weekly political magazine with sharp design and even sharper analysis, edited since its founding nearly a decade ago by veteran journalist Yevgenia Albats.
The magazine is permitted to survive because of its small circulation, but nevertheless has frequent problems. Recently, its publisher refused to release an issue with a cover illustration of sheep at the Kremlin’s gates. “We’d been using the publishers since 2008 and we didn’t owe them a cent, and then suddenly they just refused to publish us,” said Albats.
Many oligarchs are subscribers and the presidential administration orders 13 to 15 copies, Albats said, yet it is almost impossible to find companies willing to advertise in the publication. It is kept afloat by five sponsors, all Russian citizens, most of whom wish to remain anonymous because of the risk to their reputations.
The war in Ukraine, which began in 2014, has left the media even more polarised. The popular state television anchor Ernest Mackevičius told hundreds of journalism students at a youth camp last summer that the definition of journalism had changed, insisting that western media lied about Russia, so Russia had to respond in kind. “You understand that for the past year and a half, we have worked as part of the government, because information today has become a very serious and effective weapon.”
In the decade since Politkovskaya’s death Kostyuchenko has had opportunities to move elsewhere, but says she values the rare journalistic freedom of Novaya Gazeta. In 2015 she catalogued the involvement of Russian soldiers in the war in east Ukraine, an involvement furiously denied by the Kremlin and a taboo subject for Russian journalists.
“I was offered $10,000 a month to work on television, and at Novaya Gazeta I earn the same as my sister earns selling jeans in Yaroslavl. But we [at the newspaper] have no censorship, and that’s important.”
