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FOCUS: Russia-Ukraine War

Exposing The Faces — And Silence — Of Russia's Liberal Elites

Back in the 1990s, the Russian elite were busy maneuvering behind the scenes. But today, Moscow's liberals know better than to contradict the strongman in the Kremlin.

Photo of Sberbank CEO German Gref sitting in front with Russian President Vladimir Putin during a meeting at the Kremlin

Sberbank CEO German Gref meeting with Russian President Vladimir Putin in the Kremlin

Benjamin Quénelle

MOSCOW — As the war in Ukraine nears its first anniversary, Russia's liberal elites have fallen silent — criticizing the disastrous invasion in private, but not daring to risk Vladimir Putin's wrath by speaking out.

A source in Moscow, close to the inner circle that currently still wields major political and economic power, said would-be reformists have been watching events closely, both at the Kremlin and on the battlefield: "The withdrawal from Kherson highlighted the mistakes made by the military command since the beginning of the war," the source noted. "It also exposed how bad Russia's senior political leadership is."

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The source summed it up this way: "Many want Putin’s regime to end. But no one is ready to do something, or willing to get involved in order to bring the regime down. So nothing will change."



Among the most influential economic figures close to the Kremlin, some no longer hesitate to call the ongoing war a "great mistake" ⁠— an opinion they nevertheless voice privately, as one can never be too careful in these troubled times, where individuals raising a critical voice are eliminated.

Justifying war

Still, behind the scenes, Muscovite elites wonder what next move their president might trumpet as a victory, in order to justify his war.

The liberal political elite are becoming more marginalized than ever.

The Kremlin’s main military strategy has become the destruction of Ukrainian energy infrastructure, using winter as a weapon of war ⁠— not only against their neighbor, but also the rest of Europe. But this can't be called a victory as and of itself, as Moscow chose to wage a long-term war.

These elites still don't clearly see what Putin hopes to gain from the invasion, or what his overall objective is in the broader conflict with the West, but they all acknowledge that the current offensive will lead Russia to a deadlock.

At the same time, the liberal political elite ⁠— who are the most likely to drive change in Russia ⁠— are becoming more marginalized than ever.

The former Minister of Finance, Alexei Kudrin, has been privately opposed to the current offensive and its aftermath. Off the public radar for a while, he recently returned to the political forefront to take up new duties at Yandex, the Russian equivalent of Google, where he will be tasked with balancing internet freedom against state control.

Photo of Putin meeting with Sergey Kiriyenko

Vladimir Putin meeting with Sergey Kiriyenko

en.kremlin.ru

Lying in wait

The few well-known Russian liberals who remain active have also accepted key roles in Vladimir Putin’s system.

Among them, German Gref — the CEO of Sberbank, the country’s main bank — dares to offer only veiled warnings about how the war is damaging Russia’s economy.

Laying low, waiting for Russia to become a more normal country again.

Sergey Kiriyenko, a liberal icon in the 1990s, is now withdrawing into silence, too busy in his duties at the head of the Kremlin’s political administration. He is currently orchestrating the annexation of Ukrainian territory in the Donbas region.

Most of the once-influential liberals and entrepreneurs who oppose the current situation in Moscow have now left the country. They are laying low, waiting for Russia to become a more normal country again.

This atmosphere stands in contrast to the end of the 1990s, at the twilight of Boris Yeltsin's era and the dawn of Putin's. The system had shattered. In Moscow, the Russian elite were busy behind the scenes. But today, in Dubai or on Venezuelan beaches, they have taken refuge — protected, lying in wait.

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Society

Ancient Tradition Or Child Labor? Riding With The Child Jockeys Of Mongolia

Horse racing is a time-honored tradition that often uses children as jockeys, despite the nation’s minimum working age laws — and the inherent dangers.

Two child jockeys in racing attire, on their horses, preparing to race.

Child jockeys Usukh-Erdene Battulga, left, and Buyanjargal Buyandelger, both 9, prepare to race during the Naadam Festival in Arkhangai province in July.

Odonchimeg Batsukh, GPJ MONGOLIA
Khorloo Khukhnokhoi and Odonchimeg Batsukh

URGUUTIIN TAL, MONGOLIA — Soyombo Myagmarsuren, 13, began racing when he turned 6, following in the footsteps of generations of horse trainers. “I love horses,” he says, beaming with pride. “It is cool to gallop on a horse mane until the wind whistles.”

These days, Soyombo walks with a limp. Last winter, he fell from a horse while training for a race.

So he did not race competitively in this year’s Naadam, a summer celebration of Mongolian sovereignty believed to have existed since the second century B.C. and held regularly since 1639. The internationally recognized celebration is referred to locally as the “Three Games of Men,” given its showcase of wrestling, archery and horse racing.

These sports symbolize strength, wisdom and courage, respectively. (Despite the name, women and girls now also compete in the latter two.)

In the races, horses run courses of 12 to 26 kilometers (7 to 16 miles) across the steppe, depending on the animal’s age. And on their backs it is young boys and girls like Soyombo, typically between the ages of 6 and 13, whose courage is on display.

Child jockeys — preferred because they do not weigh down horses — are integral to Mongolian horse racing. Mongolian law now stipulates that jockeys competing at Naadam should be no younger than 8 — despite the legal working age being 16 — and forbids racing and long-distance training during winter. But rights activists say these regulations are frequently flouted.

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