Argo Ideon: The purpose of Russia's 'parliamentary elections' is to secure Kremlin power
The parties participating in the political performance are cogs in a totalitarian system; real opposition in Russia has either been physically eliminated or driven into exile abroad, writes Argo Ideon.
With Russia's Duma "elections" scheduled for September 18–20, a little more than a month remains. Work is underway to ensure the numbers look presentable for the Kremlin. Vladimir Putin is conducting a propaganda tour in the country's east — an area out of reach of Ukrainian drone strikes — visiting Novosibirsk and even the Kuril Islands, which Russia seized from Japan. Meanwhile, courts are busy cleansing the ballot lists of opponents.
Many observers predict that after the elections, Russia will face a broad mobilization for the war in Ukraine — either fully public or somewhat concealed to reduce tension. Unfortunately, that is a more consequential event than any election result.
It is clear that Russia has long ceased to hold parliamentary elections in the Western democratic sense. Over the first quarter of this century, even the few remaining features resembling real elections have largely disappeared.
What remains is a political staging whose purpose is to fill the State Duma building in Moscow with loyal puppets competing to praise Vladimir Putin's imperial worldview. They also continue the conveyor belt of repressive laws that has characterized the current Duma.
Governance in Russia typically runs vertically. This means that a lower‑level boss — such as a mayor or regional governor — must ensure that goals set by the presidential administration are met: what voter turnout must be, how many votes certain parties must receive. And the votes appear. Those who fail are deemed ineffective leaders. Lower levels then bend over backwards to make sure everything proceeds as prescribed.
Since access to the elections is strictly limited from the candidacy stage onward, the disciplined voting process adds little from Moscow's perspective. But the system must still function, the gears must keep turning. Otherwise, spontaneous developments and "anarchy" might occur, and people could get the idea that anyone might be allowed to come to power.
The parties currently in the State Duma are cogs in this machinery — "cartel parties," to use Estonian political veteran Mart Helme's expression. If a voter for some reason does not want to vote for a United Russia candidate, they can choose the slightly more social‑branded A Just Russia, the Communist Party appealing to Soviet nostalgia, New People emphasizing small‑business interests, and others.
But when it is necessary to support the Kremlin on key issues — such as annexing a neighboring country's territory or killing Ukrainian civilians — these pocket parties all sing in the same choir, some more eagerly than others.
The fiercest competition in the Duma is among those who demand more effective destruction of Russia's enemies and settling scores with the opposing side. In the past, the radical‑patriotic role was mainly filled by the Liberal Democratic Party led by Vladimir Zhirinovsky. Now, with Vladimir Volfovich gone for several years, the LDPR is losing its accustomed niche.
All Russian party leaders beat the same drum, starting with United Russia chairman Dmitry Medvedev. His social media posts insulting Europe and the entire Western world have become a phenomenon of their own. In the early 2000s, Medvedev was still seen as representing the more liberal wing of the Russian elite, with a fondness for 1970s rock stars like Deep Purple and Black Sabbath…
Real opposition in Russia has been physically destroyed or driven abroad. Boris Nemtsov and Alexey Navalny — who were able to mobilize voters — have been killed. Much of the political emigration deemed "offenders" by the Russian state has been subjected to "civil death" under rules established by the Duma — they cannot use property in Russia or most state services.
Recently, the only party openly calling for peace in Ukraine, Yabloko, was banned from participating in the elections. But even among Russian émigrés, opinions differ on Yabloko's role.
One of Russia's best‑known dissidents, Vladimir Kara‑Murza, writes in The Washington Post that Yabloko became a channel through which Russian citizens could legally express opposition to the war in Ukraine, and the Kremlin grew afraid of them. "Putin panicked," Kara‑Murza argues.
Russian publicist Igor Eidman, living in Germany, instead says the authorities did not start fearing Yabloko; rather, developments in Russia's state system have reached a point where even symbolic or marginal dissent has no place.
"There is no longer any polyphony: all actors must speak with one voice, the same voice," Eidman writes on social media. "The state is returning to classic Stalinist‑type totalitarianism."
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