How Russia’s Backwardness Benefits Putin

John Feffer

 May 5, 2026

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Photo by Brad Ritson

The source of Russia’s global power derives not from sophisticated technology, an advanced service sector, or a cadre of entrepreneurs. Russia’s power is almost entirely backward-looking. Its geopolitical position rests on a base of prehistoric vegetation.

That vegetation, of course, has ended up as Russia’s reserves of oil, natural gas, and coal. About one-quarter of the country’s government revenues comes from fossil fuel sales. Those revenues ensure that Russia’s superpower status can’t be boiled down simply to its possession of nuclear weapons. Russia is not “Upper Volta with nukes” as the Soviet Union was famously dismissed. Petrodollars give it considerable geopolitical leverage as well as the means to wage war, most recently in Ukraine.

Consider how crudely Russia uses its crude. For some time, the dependency of certain European countries on Russian fuel imports—notably Hungary and Slovakia—has made it challenging for the European Union to forge consensus on anything related to Russia or Ukraine. Leadership change in Hungary has reduced, though not eliminated, this problem. The election of Peter Magyar has simultaneously gotten money flowing again from Brussels to Kyiv and oil flowing again, via the Druzhba pipeline, from Russia to Hungary.

It’s not just Eastern Europe. Although Europe as a whole has radically reduced imports over the last five years—from 45 percent of its gas imports to 19 percent and 27 percent of its oil to 3 percent—France, the Netherlands, and Belgium are still importing considerable amounts. Last year, the prime minister of Belgium blocked the use of Russian funds frozen in Brussels to help Ukraine. When money is blocked, follow the oil (also, don’t discount outright intimidation).

Russia, in other words, has used its energy exports to drive wedges between countries that might otherwise be allies.

These energy exports, subjected to sanctions and price caps, have also strengthened Russian ties with China and India, with those two countries combining to purchase 80 percent of Russian oil. Especially now, with the war in Iran and the U.S. blockade of the Strait of Hormuz, Russian energy beckons as a lifeline for many countries. Ukrainian attacks on Russian energy infrastructure have cut into the profits, but sales are still up.

Russia’s chief asset is also its chief weakness. Even before it launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, Russia depended a little too much on its own natural resources. Instead of investing in greater value-added production, Russia took the easier route of selling what it could extract from the ground, in the form of minerals and fossil fuels and timber. Like other countries caught in a “resource curse,” Russia lazily failed to diversity.

Windfall profits have also fueled corruption, from the Black Sea palaces of Gazprom officials to the money-laundering associated with Russia’s ghost fleet of aging tankers. Like Norway, a country that has singularly avoided the resource curse, Russia has a national wealth fund. But much of it has gone to pay for the war in Ukraine, as well as serving to “launder money, evade sanctions, and secure resources for both influence campaigns and military needs.” Russia ranks 157 out of 182 countries in the Transparency International index of corruption perceptions, lower than Iran and Congo.

It’s tempting to conclude that Russian politics is to blame for this lack of diversification. Vladimir Putin has cultivated a set of friendly oligarchs who have subordinated their economic decisions to the needs of the state. Diversification could disrupt this cozy relationship. The Russian economy has not been performing spectacularly—booming when commodity prices are up, plummeting when those prices drop—but it is good enough to sustain public support for the current government.

Let’s push this argument further.

Between the middle of the eighteenth and the middle of the nineteenth centuries, a succession of tsars continued to maintain serfdom in the face of rising protests and thwarted revolution. The Russian royals considered this unpaid labor to be integral to the Russian economy of the time. But as Marshall Berman argued in his pioneering study of modernism, All That Is Solid Melts into Air, keeping the serfs in bondage also ensured that Russian landlords and other wealthy individuals would not invest in the kind of modernization taking place in Western Europe and the United States. The tsars understood that such modernization would create pressures for political reform that might dislodge the tsars themselves. It wouldn’t be until 1861 that Tsar Alexander II freed the millions and millions of serfs in Russia.

Likewise, Vladimir Putin may well understand that modernizing the Russian economy away from reliance on natural resources would create other potential centers of power. Imagine a Russian Silicon Valley, for instance, wealthy enough to support rival political candidates and finance a wave of disruptive entrepreneurs. Despite his claims to the contrary, Putin is content with his country’s underdevelopment. Better that entrepreneurs like Pavel Durov of Telegram fame has relocated to Dubai—that’s one less independent-minded oligarch who could cause trouble at home.

Russia produces enough wealth to maintain a rickety social welfare system and sustain the war in Ukraine. Anything more might upend the pyramid of power. Underdevelopment keeps Putin in control.

Russian Economy Today

In the first two months of 2026, the Russian economy shrank compared to its performance last year. These figures prompted Putin to scold his underlings, demanding that they give him “detailed reports today on the current economic situation and on why the trajectory of macroeconomic indicators is currently falling short of expectations.” The lack of growth is a symptom of structural problems as are high interest rates and endemic inflation. Throw in a serious budget deficit and the Russian economy is on the precipice—or, at least, in the fast lane going in that direction.

Okay, these figures come from before the start of the Iran War, which has functioned like a Hail Mary pass from the Trump administration to Putin in the end zone. The increase in energy and commodity prices will inevitably restore growth to the Russian economy—but also forestall any serious changes that could address the underlying structural weaknesses.

The dividends from the Iran War might not even be enough to treat the symptoms. According to Thomas Nilsson, head of Sweden’s Military Intelligence and Security Service, oil prices would have to rise above $100 a barrel for more than a year to erase Russia’s budget deficit. Nilsson argues, moreover, that Russia is inflating its economic statistics to mask the damage that corruption, mismanagement, and wrong-headed policies have inflicted. There might be an element of wishful thinking here, since the Swedes are urging a more forceful policy of aiding Ukraine in the hopes that a tanking Russian economy will force a peace deal favorable to Kyiv.

Still, the war in Ukraine is certainly not making matters any easier for the Kremlin. In addition to the sheer cost of the campaign and the repairs to the infrastructure Ukraine has destroyed, the need for soldiers and the out-migration of the disgruntled have put serious pressure on the labor market. Even if the state pushed for diversification, it would be hard-pressed to find a workforce to train for the new jobs.

Last week, worried about the lack of growth, the central bank cut interest rates to 14.5 percent. Even in the face of high inflation, the money managers are desperate to pump money into the economy. The bankers acknowledge that the Iran War won’t save Russia. “A significant risk from external conditions is the situation in the Middle East,” the governor of the central, Elvira Nabiullina, said. “If the conflict drags on, the negative effects on the Russian economy will grow.” Veteran politician Gennady Zyuganov, the reliably nationalist head of the Communist Party, even warned the Duma of the risks of a 1917-type revolution if the government doesn’t improve the economy, and soon.

In other words, Putin’s reliance on the troika of fossil fuels, corruption, and autocracy to prevent a political challenge to his authority may end up producing the very revolt from below he fears the most.

Color Revolutions

To avoid the scenarios that produced political change in Russia’s neighbors—Ukraine, Georgia, Moldova—Putin has ruthlessly suppressed all potential political challenges. He has jailed opponents, had them assassinated, or forced them into exile. He closed down independent media. He passed a foreign agent law that effectively criminalized NGOs.

Opposition to the government is now expressed elliptically, much like the Soviet Union of old. Influencers complain about the shuttering of the Telegram messaging app and eroding living standards, but they also opine, to avoid charges of anti-Putinism, that maybe the supreme leader has been fed misinformation (a ludicrous notion that nevertheless has deep roots in Russian history).

Although his popularity has dipped to 65 percent, Putin is probably not worried about critical Instagram content. Economic discontent is another matter. Rising prices triggered the first Arab Spring protests in Tunisia. Anger over the cost of living and corruption led to the downfall of the Bulgarian government in December.

In the end, Russians can’t eat oil or gas or coal. The country has to provide jobs other than cannon fodder and coal miner. Underdevelopment suppresses the political demands associated with modernization—until it doesn’t. Perhaps Putin thinks that he can push the envelope long enough to capture the rest of the Donbas and deliver a “win” to the Russian people to offset all of their sacrifices. Ukraine—assisted by the rest of the anti-autocratic world—is betting everything that he can’t. War, even in this era of rapid-fire AI targeting, remains a waiting game.

John Feffer is the director of Foreign Policy In Focus, where this article originally appeared.

History Moved But the Liberal Left Didn’t: Ireland’s Fuel Protests

Kerron Ó Luain

 May 5, 2026

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Photograph Source: Dnjka4444 – CC0

The liberal left again adopted a self‑defeating posture during the recent fuel and cost‑of‑living protests in Ireland. Instead of supporting the protesters or attempting to engage with them, they stood on the sidelines criticising. The republican left broadly supported the movement.

But that section of the left whose support base is largely urban middle‑class – the Greens, the Social Democrats and the Labour Party – refused to support this largely spontaneous movement.

Why this refusal? For the parties that withheld support, it is clear from their middle‑class base that they do not wish to challenge the status quo. They prefer to manage the capitalist system and scrape small crumbs from the table of the wealthy for ordinary people.

As for ordinary liberals, the racism visible among the extremist fringe who attempted to take over the protests – some of whom acted as spokespeople – put them off entirely. That is understandable to a point, but every time “progressives” and liberals refuse to be present when a bottom‑up movement is emerging, the power of the far right increases.

This refusal may stem from liberal puritanism, identity politics, a class disconnect, the rural/urban divide, and habits of cancel culture. But it also demonstrates a lack of understanding of social movements and bottom‑up mobilisation in Irish history.

Mixed Nature of the Protests

Certainly, the strong influence of the far right was evident in the protest. Many of the national spokespeople were on the right and even on the far right. Their demands were limited (a reduction in tax and excise, but no price cap on fuel) and sometimes bizarre (for example, calling for offshore oil drilling near Galway).

Moreover, full‑time unemployed far‑right grifters and wasters – “McGregorites” – promoted themselves, especially in Dublin. From there, they spread through social media and gave the protest more of a right‑wing appearance than was perhaps the reality. In other places – Laois, Wexford, Cork, Mayo – ordinary people, including some non‑Irish born, were involved. In some counties, such as Mayo, far‑right agitators were expelled from WhatsApp groups.

In Galway, a notorious fascist was expelled from the protest at the Docks, which had set up a barricade – something unseen in the West in decades, if not centuries. The protests clearly had different makeups and dynamics in different places.

The Land War, 1879-82

Historically, no bottom‑up mobilisation on a material issue in Ireland has ever emerged without ideological or organisational conflict. During the Land War, activists from the Land League and radical republicans had to grapple with priests and conservative middle‑class elements: shopkeepers and wealthy farmers.

When the Land League was being founded in Mayo in 1879, Fenians had to stand their ground against groups they disagreed with. Although Michael Davitt, a radical Fenian, drove the founding of the League in the county, Charles Stewart Parnell of the Irish Parliamentary Party was reluctant to participate because the organisation was emerging from below.

But Davitt eventually persuaded him, which added to the power of the League by combining grassroots Fenianism at the local level and parliamentary agitation in Westminster.

In Claremorris in July 1879, priests attempted to pass resolutions at a Mayo Land League meeting. Their aim was to centre Catholic education and the Pope’s temporal power. Fenians rejected the attempt on the basis that it would destroy the non‑sectarian character of the movement.

The following year, when the Land League was founded in Cork in September 1880, “Long” John O’Connor, a member of the Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB), was elected secretary. He gave his first speech in October in Bantry. O’Connor claimed that all the land of Ireland was owned by 742 landlords who had never done a day’s work in their lives. That statement was too radical for the priests on the platform.

With the support of a conservative nationalist MP, O’Connor was driven from the stage. The priests told the crowd that they should act for the rights of both tenants and landlords, and they condemned the Cork republican for his seditious and socialist arguments.

Nevertheless, Fenian activists within the Land League continued to struggle with the right wing of the movement. By 1881, even the IRB’s Supreme Council – which included a landlord like John O’Leary – was focused solely on the national question rather than the social upsurge.

But local Fenian leaders persisted in their campaigning. It is true that Parnell betrayed the movement with the Kilmainham Treaty and that Davitt’s vision of national land redistribution was not achieved, thus acting as a warning against cross-class alliances. But the first cracks in structures of the landlords’ authority began to appear, and in that sense the most powerful and pro‑imperial class in the country was weakened.

Vacuum Left by Unions and the Left

This is not to claim that this movement over fuel and high prices is as powerful or important as that of 1879–1882. But as the cost‑of‑living crisis worsens due to inflation and the chaos of capitalism, it is clear that this issue will not disappear soon. The Dublin government has announced a package for farmers and hauliers in response, but it will do little for vast swathes of the population crushed by rising energy costs.

Liberals, social‑democrats and others, yet again, will have no interest in influencing events as they unfold. Their hands‑off approach has already contributed greatly to the growth of fascism.

The absence of trade unions and leadership on the left in building a movement around the cost‑of‑living and housing has also created a vacuum. The so‑called Raise the Roof coalition on housing (consisting of Sinn Féin, People Before Profit and others) was never a serious project. It merely staged symbolic protests instead of getting into the nitty‑gritty of building a movement around housing beginning with a focus on the local.

During the water tax protests of 2014–2016, the trade unions demonstrated leadership and, with the help of republican parties and campaign groups, were able to steer the burgeoning movement leftward. Without such an influence, it was obvious cranks would step into the breach during the fuel protests. To be fair, the spontaneity of the fuel protests may have caught some off guard.

Captain Rock and Pastorini, 1821-24

But the point around leadership is important and deserves another historical parallel. During an earlier period of agrarian agitation, known as Captain Rock’s Rebellion of 1821–24, this absence had a profound effect. Irish Republicanism had been in retreat since 1798 and Daniel O’Connell’s elite Catholic movement for Emancipation balked at the notion of a mobilised peasantry.

As J.S. Donnelly Jr. notes, this allowed what were known as Pastorini’s Prophesies (not dissimilar to modern conspiracy theories) to flourish. Those who promoted them in the 1820s, whom he termed “activist millenarians”, tended “to flourish in colonial countries, especially … after the indigenous peoples have incurred repeated defeats in their efforts to resist foreign domination through secular military or political means”.

Others like E.P. Thompson have argued more generally that when the working class is politically disorganised, people become vulnerable to authoritarian, moralistic, or anti‑structural narratives. Today migrants and others are blamed instead of the socio-economic structures of capitalism.

The Need for a Movement that Engages

The comparison here with the rise of far‑right narratives (if not hardened ideology) among ordinary people in Ireland in 2026 should not be overlooked. It is not too outlandish to claim that the Irish working class has suffered a series of defeats, is politically disorganised, and is fatigued by the current parliamentary strategies of the broad left.

The answer, certainly, is not to turn away in disgust at ordinary people because their politics are not fully developed or coherent. Despite the disreputable character of a section of the protesters, these mobilisations around fuel and the cost‑of‑living more generally demonstrated the power of coordinated action and disruption. They show that things can change when people act together, even loosely, and that collective pressure remains a tool capable of influencing entrenched systems.

Those waiting for an uprising or a “pure” movement from below will be waiting forever. It is clear that such people do not truly want a movement capable of achieving meaningful change – such a movement would be messy and difficult. The alternative, however, is remaining on the margins indefinitely.

Irish republicans and the left must lead on the cost‑of‑living by building movements and be ready, through preparation, to show leadership when future spontaneous upsurges on these material questions erupt.

Kerron Ó Luain’s most recent book, “Cath idir an pobal agus an murder machine”: Gluaiseacht na Gaelscolaíochta, c.1973-2023, published by Bradán Feasa (an imprint of Iskra Books) explores the Gaelscoil (Irish-medium school) movement through the lenses of class and decolonisation.