*Daniil Konstantinov — Russian politician and public figure, former political prisoner, head of the “Russian European Movement.”

12 Questions about Russian Identity and Governance within Russia

1. What is your view on the idea that modern Russia is a continuation of “historical Russia”? /There is an opinion (shared by Medinsky and others) that the current Russian Federation is merely a continuation of a certain unbroken “historical Russia” and is inextricably linked, in terms of the origins of its socio-political system, to the Tsardom of Moscow, the Russian Empire, and the USSR. There is also a view that the Russian Federation is more accurately a reincarnation of the USSR (which ceased to exist), while the Russian Empire was destroyed by the Bolsheviks, who created a state of a “new type.”
What is your judgment on this matter?

Historical Russia ceased to exist in 1917. After the Bolshevik coup, the subsequent civil war, and horrific repressions, almost nothing remained of traditional, old Russia. Not only were the state and church destroyed, but entire classes of Russian society: the nobility, clergy, merchant class, Cossacks, and—to a large extent—the peasantry. The intelligentsia fared slightly better: it was partly destroyed, partly expelled from the country, which allowed many of its members to survive but forever severed them from their homeland.

In the territory under communist control, a declaration was made about the emergence of a “never-before-seen” state of a new type and the construction of a socialist society heading toward communism. Even the word "Russia" was removed from the name of the new state (USSR), replaced by the faceless "Union of Socialist Republics." The word “Russian” remained only in the name of the RSFSR—a constituent part of the larger communist state aiming for world revolution (hegemony) and transforming the world into a global republic of soviets. All this had little to do with historical Russia.

That said, the Russian people did survive, although they were significantly transformed over the years. But their continued existence still gives us hope for the future.

Modern Russia, despite rejecting communist ideology, has not been able to restore continuity with historical Russia. Post-Soviet Russia attempted to base its statehood on a strange symbiosis of continuity with the Soviet state and legal framework while trying to implement Western “bourgeois-democratic” republican structures. Retaining the Soviet state apparatus and even special services, along with the continuation of many Soviet legal norms that were not repealed by new laws, coexists with the introduction of institutions copied from Europe and the US: the presidency, parliamentarism, municipalities, ombudsmen, etc. Over time, a creeping re-Sovietization of Russia began to emerge.

The Russian Federation is a fragment of the former USSR that tried to live its own life, initially adopting a democratic and pro-Western façade, but quickly (historically speaking) returning to the familiar path of totalitarianism.

There is almost nothing left of “historical Russia” in the Russian Federation—neither in its framework of statehood, nor in its social structure, legal system, or spiritual sphere.

Can the Russian Federation be called a reincarnation of the USSR? Probably not. There are several fundamental differences. Most notably: the absence of a dominant communist ideology and the presence of private property—features that prevent Russia from being called a communist (or socialist) country. Let me remind you that the USSR was characterised by the mandatory Marxist ideology and complete state ownership of nearly all means of production.

The USSR was, above all, an ideocracy—a state built on the dominance of a certain idea (communism) and ruled by a group of ideological fanatics of a sectarian nature. Modern Russia is certainly not an ideocracy in any sense—unless one considers the ideological "soup" in which Putin’s elite swims to be an ideology.

The loss of ideological backbone was one of the main reasons for the collapse of the communist regime. This loss occurred long before the Communist Party lost power and the USSR fell apart.

Another reason for the collapse was the failure of the socialist economy, based on central planning, total state ownership, and suppression of private initiative.

The presence of private property and a market economy (or its elements) in Putin’s Russia not only distinguishes it from the USSR but also forms the basis for the relative stability of the Russian economy, demonstrated during the war, when most economic experts predicted its quick collapse.

These two differences, in my opinion, rule out a complete repetition of the USSR's collapse or at least significantly reduce its likelihood.

However, there is something in Russia that directly links it to the USSR and demonstrates clear continuity with the Soviet project: the dominance of the same “power apparatus” that formed the managerial essence of the USSR. I'm referring to the Soviet nomenklatura, which largely retained its monopoly on power in post-Soviet Russia.

When the communist regime collapsed, former party officials managed to seize power by leading the so-called democratic revolution of the 1990s. Recall who Yeltsin and many other managers of the “democratic Russia” were—former Communist Party functionaries.

In reality, the 1990s saw the seizure of power by the most active part of the Soviet nomenklatura, joined by retired KGB officers and large (often criminal) business representatives who amassed capital during the early market reforms. Over time, the KGB faction, being the most organised, ruthless, and unscrupulous, pushed other groups aside and took the dominant position.

Therefore, while the Russian Federation itself may not be a full reincarnation of the USSR, its ruling regime is certainly a successor to the Soviet nomenklatura (ruling class)—not ideologically, but biologically. The only difference is that now, at the top of the food chain, are not “party officials” but former KGB officers, who in the USSR served as the repressive wing of the Communist Party.

2. What is Russian nationalism? Can it be separated from Soviet or imperial revanchism?

Russian nationalism is an ideology and political movement based on prioritising the interests of the Russian people. This central core allows it to build a value system distinct from other political currents. When you place “the interests of the Russian people” at the forefront, it becomes easy to separate the wheat from the chaff, finding answers to the most pressing issues of today.

Russian nationalism is, in fact, separable from Soviet or imperial revanchism. With Soviet revanchism, it is simple: nationalists do not aim to revive the communist project or its Red Empire—the USSR. On the contrary, they seek to move as far away from the Soviet past as possible, freeing themselves from the burden of a heavy Soviet legacy. The interests of the Russian people have nothing in common with communist ideology or the horrific practices of the communist experiment.

Imperial revanchism is a bit more complex. There are certain overlaps with Russian nationalism, but upon closer inspection, they are two different phenomena.

Modern Russian nationalists do not aim to restore the Russian Empire within its 1914 borders, or any empire at all. The core of Russian nationalism—the interests of the Russian people—helps clarify how necessary a bulky, multiethnic empire is, and what we are willing to sacrifice for its restoration.

Today, the Russian people are clearly in crisis—socially, spiritually, and demographically. Restoring an empire or creating a new one requires the utmost exertion of the nation’s strength and a depletion of significant resources. One could compare it to “sucking the lifeblood” out of the people. That’s probably not what we need right now.

Moreover, a true empire is always a universalist project. This was true of the Roman Empire, the so-called Byzantine Empire (Empire of the Romans), the Holy Roman Empire (as the name implies), the Russian Empire, and even the Red Empire—the USSR. But what can we now offer the world as a universalist idea capable of justifying or legitimising the creation (or revival) of an empire? What is our mission? The difficulty of answering these questions illustrates the impossibility—and pointlessness—of empire-building today.

3. Why is there such a contradiction between Putin's “replacement migration” policy and the anti-immigration rhetoric of Western conservatives?

It is very simple: Putin is not a Russian nationalist or right-wing conservative. The Soviet legacy is too strong in him, and he cannot seem to break away from it. He also harbours elements of imperial revanchism—but in a statist, not ethnonationalist, form.

In other words, for Putin, the highest value is not the Russian people per se, but the state, dressed in its current imperial and multiethnic form. For him, preserving this state is the core issue—ideally, returning it to the borders of the USSR. So after consolidating power at home, he launched foreign aggression against neighbouring countries to revive the Soviet Union in one form or another.

Understanding this helps make sense of both his attitude toward the Russian people and his seemingly strange loyalty to mass immigration from Central Asia (and now other countries). Such loyalty is highly uncharacteristic of nationalist or conservative politicians (in the original and proper sense of those terms).

To Putin, the Russian people are biological and social material—"cement," the binding element of his state. Secondarily, they are a resource for external aggression. Thus, Putin treats Russians extremely instrumentally—as a resource, material, fuel for the state and its expansion.

Migrants, for Putin, are the same kind of human resource, only from outside. In some ways, they are even more convenient than the native population. Fragmented, speaking different languages, lacking “roots” (in the form of a homeland left far behind), and alien to Russians—these people are easier to control and exploit than ethnic Russians, who, once aware of their shared identity, collective interests, and rights in their homeland, could become a serious threat to the regime.

Moreover, we must remember that the Putin regime has a distinctly criminal-mafia character and functions largely as a parasitic formation on the body of the country. For a long time, its main goal was the enrichment of the Putin elite—achieved by exploiting Russia’s natural and human resources and converting them into the vast wealth of the ruling upper class.

This criminal nature shaped the regime’s attitude toward the Russian people—as a tax-paying population subject to tribute. Over time, this parasitic nature became so evident that it gave rise to the concept of Russia as a crypto-colonial state.

And there is some truth to that—indeed, quite a lot. Power relations in Russia resemble those between coloniser and colonised. The only difference is that the “metropole” is not abroad (as some conspiracy theorists think) or even Moscow as a territory (as some regionalists and separatists believe). Moscow, as a city, is not the metropole. The metropole is the Russian ruling elite, which, if desired or needed, can reside in Moscow or elsewhere. In other words, the coloniser is the Putin regime, and the colonised—the peoples of Russia.

That said, it must be noted: contrary to common left-liberal stereotypes, colonialism is not always entirely bad. Colonisers often bring with them more developed cultures, sciences, technologies, medicine, and social practices than those traditionally found among the colonised. But the Putin regime offers the population nothing progressive. On the contrary, it has long been a clear obstacle to the country’s development, isolating itself from the most advanced parts of humanity and reviving the most backwards administrative practices, while leading unnecessary wars that harm the country and its people.

4. As a constitutional law expert, how do you evaluate the frequently used term “Putin’s legalism”? How is it similar to or different from the Platonic-Aristotelian idea of the “rule of law” under authoritarianism?

I think it is not quite accurate to speak of "Putin’s legalism." It would be more appropriate to speak of pseudo-legalism. Putin’s mindset is deeply criminalised, but he tries to back up his actions—including purely criminal ones—with some sort of legislative framework.

I believe this phenomenon stems from his desire to avoid responsibility or at least minimise it. That way, if a negative scenario unfolds, he can always say: “Look, I always acted within the law. The law, as we know, may be imperfect—but that does not make it optional.”

We could say he respects the letter of the law (and even that only selectively), but certainly not the spirit of the law. If he respected the spirit, he would not have rewritten the Constitution for his benefit—effectively staging a coup—nor would he have spent years building the legal foundations for mass repression, dismantling democratic institutions, crushing the opposition and civil society, and establishing first an authoritarian, then effectively totalitarian regime.

I don’t think Putin’s legal and political practices have anything in common with Platonic or Aristotelian concepts. His thinking does not soar to such heights. Rather, it is what I mentioned earlier—a desire to have legal cover ready for when he might be held accountable.

5. What role does Orthodoxy play in shaping national identity? How do you assess the current role of the Russian Orthodox Church (ROC) in society?

Orthodoxy was the core value system of old, historical Russia. One might call it the national idea, but that term does not quite capture its role in pre-revolutionary Russian society. I think the term "ethnic dominant," introduced by Lev Gumilev (a controversial but interesting thinker), is more fitting.

The ethnic dominant is a system of ideological, religious, and/or political values that arises with the formation of any ethnic community and serves as its unifying foundation. In simpler terms, it is the dominant idea (or ideology) that forms and holds a people together.

From the formation of the centralised Russian state and for many centuries afterwards, Orthodoxy was the ethnically dominant religion of the Russian people. Over time, as society secularised, its significance declined. By the end of the Russian Empire, Orthodoxy’s role as the central value system had greatly diminished. Westernisation of Russian society—especially among the elites—initiated by Peter the Great’s reforms, also played a role.

We should also mention the raskol (church schism), which effectively split Russian society in two. The split became so antagonistic that one faction (the Old Believers) came to be seen as a separate ethnicity or at least a subethnic group of the Russian people. But the schism is a topic deserving deeper and more focused discussion.

After the Bolshevik coup and seventy years of atheist socialism, Orthodoxy finally lost its dominant position. In the post-Soviet period, after a brief religious revival, Orthodoxy’s position continued to weaken—due to the rapid secularisation of society (a common trend among European peoples), also due to disillusionment with the ROC itself, which is more specific to Russia.

Today, the Russian Orthodox Church is completely discredited due to its total loyalty to the Putin regime and the strongly pro-war stance of its clergy.

It is worth noting that there are other Orthodox churches not affiliated with the ROC. Many protest-minded Russians are becoming parishioners of these churches, reflecting widespread disillusionment with the ROC.

6. To what extent do groups like the Rodnovers (Slavic pagan) influence broader debates about national identity and cultural revival?

It seems to me that Russian society has become so secular that debates between Rodnovers (neo-pagans) and Orthodox Christians do not affect the majority and remain on the periphery of public consciousness. Personally, I do not find these disputes particularly productive either. What is becoming increasingly clear is that the line of Russian national solidarity now runs above and beyond religious divisions between Christians and Rodnovers.

However, the very fact that Rodnover groups are emerging and growing supports the point I made earlier—about the Russian people’s disillusionment with the Russian Orthodox Church (ROC). For instance, I am aware of an interesting trend among employees of Russian security services. Even they have become so disillusioned with the ROC that they often convert to other Orthodox churches or even become Rodnovers. It is a highly symbolic trend in today’s context.

7. What are the main sources of tension between civic and ethnic understandings of national identity in Russia today?

The main contradiction lies in the fact that ethnic borders do not coincide with state borders, including in Russia. The Russian Federation includes very different ethnic groups, some of which are non-complementary with each other and represent essentially different civilisations. All of this exists within the same state, meaning that inter-civilizational fault lines run through the interior of the country.

As a result, citizens of the same country often belong not just to different ethnic groups, but to entirely different civilisations, which turns the concept of a unified civic community into a fiction. Yet the state imposes this civic identity as the only correct understanding of nationhood. But the question remains: What unites a typical urban Russian with a highlander from Dagestan or a reindeer herder from the tundra?

Even if we are talking about civic unity, we must understand that it can only be built on shared values, even within an ethnically diverse population. But if those values are not only different, but provoke mutual irritation (e.g., regarding Muslim praying on the streets and animal sacrifices, or differing views on the role of women between Russians and mountain peoples from the Caucasus), then we cannot speak of a cohesive national identity.

This is why the concept of a “Russian civic nation” runs into problems. By design, its creators wanted to combine incompatible elements—ethnic groups with fundamentally different values and behavioural models.

In contrast, there is the idea of a Russian national ethnic state to be built within the territory of a compact ethnic Russian settlement. There is certainly logic to this concept, but it also carries potential pitfalls. For instance, there are regions with mixed populations, where ethnic proportions are nearly equal. What should be done with these regions? Should they be part of a Russian National State, and if so, how? What will happen to the Russians living there if they are not included?

These are questions we must begin answering now, because later may be too late. Events could unfold so rapidly and chaotically that there won’t be time for theoretical reflection or peaceful solutions.

As for me personally, I support the concept of a Russian political nation—with the Russian ethnic group as the system-forming core, but broader than ethnicity alone. This nation could be based on Russian identity (language, culture, self-awareness) and shared standards of behaviour that define its unity and distinction from other communities.

This model of nation-building is successfully used in Eastern European countries, where national states are built on the foundation of political nations with ethnic cores, without being limited to them in state construction.

8. How do ordinary Russians view this “state-civilizational” identity rather than a purely ethnic one? (The claim that “Russian” is a separate civilisation that is neither European nor Asian)

It seems to me that such claims are perceived by Russian citizens as part of state propaganda. And this propaganda only influences those who lack a stronger ethno-confessional or civilizational identity. Many denationalised citizens of ethnic Russian origin accept these claims without burdening themselves with critical analysis. However, most nationally conscious Russians view this propaganda with open hostility, seeing it (not without reason) as part of a larger effort to dissolve the Russian people into some kind of multiethnic collective.

For Russians with national consciousness, ethnic identity and solidarity take precedence over this “state-civilizational unity.”

Here I would insert the prefix “pseudo” before the term “civilisational,” because the Russian Federation includes people from different, genuinely distinct civilisations, for whom civilizational identity takes obvious priority over any “pan-Russian” one. This is especially true for Muslim peoples, whose identity is built on a clear connection to a core factor—traditional Islam. For them, Islamic values were, are, and will remain superior to any vague “Russian values” (whatever those might be) or so-called universal human values.

9. Why did Russian nationalist organisations fail to gain popularity and support for forming a real political party in the late USSR/early RF?

There were many reasons, but I would highlight several major ones.

After the tragic events of the first half of the 20th century, Russians were left without a nationally conscious intelligentsia. The new intelligentsia that was formed during the Soviet era was multiethnic or supranational, largely composed of minorities that had entered the Soviet ruling elite. These people carried a Soviet, not Russian, identity, which directly influenced their political preferences after the collapse of the USSR.

The lack of a native national intelligentsia seriously harmed the intellectual quality of the Russian nationalist movement that emerged in the early 1990s.

There was also no national capital to support and resource such a movement. The capital that was formed during the 1990s economic reforms largely came from that same Soviet-rooted environment, especially from the so-called technical intelligentsia.

This absence of both a national intelligentsia and national capital largely predetermined the failure of the Russian nationalist movement.

Another problem with national-patriotic circles of that era was rabid antisemitism, which found little resonance among a Sovietized population raised in the spirit of internationalism. It openly alarmed many in the new Russian (formerly Soviet) intelligentsia and capital classes. As a result, the nationalist movement was met with hostility by almost the entire Russian press and the fledgling business elite. This exclusion from media and financial support lasted for years.

In addition to antisemitism, the Russian nationalist movement of the early 1990s was also extremely provocative—in the worst sense of the word. To grab attention and irritate liberals, national-patriots often deliberately presented themselves in the worst possible light. This led to references to the Third Reich, theatrical Hitlerism among some figures, and an overall pro-fascist orientation of part of the movement—deeply damaging its public image.

Another issue was the lack of a clear program to improve people’s lives during a difficult transition from socialism to a market economy. Many nationalists focused on issues less relevant to the masses than survival, consumption, and effective economic management. Their emphasis on history, the national question, “spirituality,” and hostility to the West, without a practical strategy for improving daily life, meant most voters ignored them.

By contrast, other political forces—particularly democrats and communists—offered the public tangible solutions to their economic woes. Even though their prescriptions were opposites, they still addressed the real needs of a population facing serious hardship.

There is one more reason that is rarely discussed today: the events of October 1993, which led to the formation of a specific kind of authoritarian regime in Russia. Outwardly, the symbols of democracy and parliamentarism were retained, but real power was concentrated in the hands of the president, his administration, and his inner circle. The parliamentary and party system was shaped by loyalists, willing to compromise and strike deals.

In this system, various political niches were filled by simulacra parties. The LDPR under Zhirinovsky paradoxically occupied the nationalist-patriotic niche for many years, monopolising nationalist discourse in official politics. The Communist Party (CPRF) took the place of the left. The Union of Right Forces (SPS) filled the liberal slot. Yabloko was positioned as the social-democratic (and green) force. Other parties existed, but lacked the influence to fully occupy any niche. 

Many nationalist-patriotic parties of the 1990s–early 2000s either acted independently without support or tried to ally with larger forces, mainly the CPRF (partnering with Zhirinovsky was nearly impossible—he hated coalitions and any competition). The only viable collaboration came through a red-brown project, namely the People’s Patriotic Union of Russia (NPSR), which functioned as a satellite of the CPRF for some time.

The last party project involving nationalist-patriots (including Russian nationalists) was the “Rodina” bloc, which later became a party. But it, too, followed the red-brown format.

10. The “Pipes Problem”: What do you propose doing about the perception that Russia is inherently undemocratic, and that Putin is simply the embodiment of the Russian people’s will?

We must work more actively with Western audiences, conveying our position and explaining the nuances of Russian politics. One of the main strategies should be the creation of a body of texts (both journalistic and academic) in English. At the same time, we need to think about how to deliver these texts to the audience. We need our publications and channels to connect with Western think tanks, political elites, and academic communities.

What are we expecting, speaking essentially only to ourselves in Russian, without even trying to reach an English-speaking audience? What seems obvious to us simply does not reach the people we need to reach. This alienation must be overcome. We must become the primary interpreters of Russian political trends.

11. How do you respond to the view that Putin is building a neo-feudal/postmodern state—with inequality, extreme statism, centralised control, and loyalty to the president as the price for carte blanche? Is nationalism just a tool that he suppresses when it threatens his power?

I do not think it is entirely accurate to call this regime neo-feudal, although there are some similarities. Still, this is not feudalism, in which sacralised power coexisted with complex, multi-tiered vassal relationships, and the elite was made up of warriors and clergy.

After all, crooks, thieves, and KGB executioners cannot claim to stand on the same footing as a warrior or spiritual class. The nature of their work, their human quality, and their value system are vastly different from those of a feudal elite.

However, it is accurate to say that in modern Russia, a kind of caste-based (or estate-based) society is forming—in the worst sense of the term. Clearly, the rights and opportunities available to people in different social strata vary wildly. There are privileged groups (bureaucrats, security forces—especially the KGB, Putin's oligarchs, members of his inner circle like those from the “Ozero” cooperative, and Kadyrovites), who can do almost anything. Then there are ordinary people (the plebs), who are essentially powerless.

The worst part is that the ruling elite wants to preserve and transmit this caste system to their children—not just passing down property, but also their exclusive rights, including immunity from consequences.

This explains the talk of a “new nobility” (drawn from current and former security service officers) that occasionally comes from people like Nikolai Patrushev. They want to become this “new nobility”—for centuries to come. And we must stop them.

12. Putin often speaks of “an eternal genetic code,” “a multiethnic people,” “mixed marriages,” and “blood mixing.” Are these just strange, unscientific statements—or an intentional program? Why is there so little public reflection on these ideas in Russia?

Firstly, these statements are a direct result of Putin’s Soviet upbringing. We must remember that Putin is a deeply Soviet person, who grew up in an environment where communist ideology reigned—with all its clichés. He carried these clichés through his entire life without ever subjecting them to critical analysis or doubt.

The phrase “multiethnic people” is a Soviet formulation that migrated into the Russian political-legal lexicon and was even enshrined in the Russian Constitution. The idea of a “multiethnic people” is one of the key pillars upon which post-Soviet Russia is built—just as the USSR once was. And Putin shares this belief.

Moreover, he appears to be genuinely hostile to Russian nationalism, even though he once described himself as a nationalist. That is why he supports and promotes ideas that oppose the Russian national idea.

Let us not forget that modern Russia has consciously turned away from the West and is trying to become the centre of some kind of pan-Eurasian space, focusing on cooperation with Asian countries—from Central Asia to China. Political Eurasianism requires ideological framing. I think Putin is—at least in some sense—a Eurasianist.

There are also purely pragmatic considerations behind his rhetoric. He sees how the country’s ethnic makeup is changing, and—not believing in a Russian national revival—he is consciously betting on forming a “new historical community” of Eurasian Russians, shaped by their ethnic and cultural diversity.

As for the lack of reflection among the Russian population, I would disagree with that. There is reflection, and it sometimes bursts to the surface in various forms. But Russia’s shift toward totalitarianism makes it nearly impossible to translate that reflection into political action.