How Russian elections became a futile exercise for Putin’s opposition

Last November, Yekaterina Duntsova announced that she would run for Russia’s presidency as a peace candidate. A month later, the small-town journalist, mother, and former municipal deputy was barred from the ballot by the electoral commission.

Undeterred, Ms. Duntsova decided to start a new party to address what she describes as the “vacuum of political choices” for Russians.

“Something is wrong in the country; people can feel it,” she says. “I have been shown a lot of support from many around me, people who want to see alternatives to the tough politics of today. This energy should be channeled into creative activities.”

But while no one appears to be overtly trying to stop Ms. Duntsova from starting her grassroots party, it is telling that both she and another more serious anti-war candidate, Boris Nadezhdin, were prevented last month from running in this weekend’s presidential polls.

The system of “managed democracy” erected under Vladimir Putin used to offer plenty of opportunities for people to participate as members of various “loyal opposition” parties, and often get elected to local legislatures and even to the State Duma. At one time, some believed that this system might eventually grow into a more representative Russian democracy.

But now, under the impact of war, sanctions, and confrontation with the West, the range of political options available to Russians who wish to express dissatisfaction with the status quo has narrowed drastically. And Mr. Putin’s rule is protected from any challenge.

Ms. Duntsova nonetheless retains hope that elections can make a difference.

“People should all go out and vote” this weekend “for any candidate other than the present president,” she says, voicing an idea promoted by the late Alexei Navalny after he’d been barred from the last presidential election six years ago. Even a symbolic vote against Mr. Putin would be heard as a statement of discontent, she says. “People need to see results.”

Putin above the fray

Polling by Russia’s only independent opinion agency, the Levada Center, shows that the war has rallied the public behind Mr. Putin, making it difficult to discern any difference between those who enthusiastically support him and those who just believe there’s no viable alternative.

“Since the beginning of the war, Putin’s electoral rating has doubled in size,” says Denis Volkov, director of the Levada Center. “The situation of an external conflict has put the lack of alternatives into the background. Now the majority thinks Putin is the person who can protect them against the West.”

Gavriil Grigorov/Sputnik/Kremlin/AP

Russian President Vladimir Putin (left) is interviewed by TV presenter Dmitry Kiselyov, in Moscow, March 12, 2024.

Officially there are three candidates running against Mr. Putin in the March 15-17 election, each from a “systemic” or loyal opposition party. Each may differ with the Kremlin on a variety of issues, but never on vital foreign policy or the war in Ukraine. They represent a spectrum that once showed promise of possibly expanding into a more competitive democracy, but now appear little more than window dressing for Mr. Putin’s ceremonial return to power.

None of the permitted candidates seem to be campaigning very hard, and Mr. Putin not at all. He traditionally positions himself above the fray, suggesting that people should know him by his works.

“Unlike the last presidential election in 2018, the number of candidates is small and the differences between what they say is negligible,” says Nikolai Petrov, an expert with Chatham House in London. “Now we see, step by step, the Kremlin attacks all places where some kind of political life was going on, such as municipal politics. ... If there are no real institutions, how can you expect political culture to develop?”

No room for real debate

The outlook for the nonsystemic opposition – those who refuse to compromise or work with the Kremlin – is far worse. For more than a decade, Russian authorities have cracked down on politically active and foreign-funded civil society groups, labeling them “foreign agents” and driving them out of legal existence.

Two years of war have created a martial law-like situation, in which any expression deemed disloyal can result in arrest and, often, imprisonment. Almost any criticism of the war, even in private conversation or uttered in a spirit of loyalty to Russia, can now land a person in serious trouble.

The best-known practitioner of nonsystemic opposition was Mr. Navalny, who, after being prohibited from taking part in electoral politics, turned to street protests. His death last month in prison leaves that opposition – who came out in large numbers to mourn at his funeral early this month – without any unifying figure to rally around.

“Navalny was unique in the sense that he became a well-known politician in the absence of public politics,” says Mr. Petrov. “He established a network that’s since been dismantled, and he himself wasn’t able to play much of a role from prison.”

Another factor limiting the possibilities for the opposition is that many of its strongest voices, along with thousands of well-educated opposition supporters, have gone abroad over the past couple of years. Unlike the former Soviet regime, Mr. Putin’s government leaves the door open for those who are dissatisfied to go. They may return as well, though that involves at least implicit acceptance of the status quo.

“The idea of letting all these people leave is to isolate them outside the country. It works,” says Mr. Petrov. “Being abroad, you lose touch; you can’t participate in Russian politics or influence the situation. That’s why Navalny chose to return to Russia [after recovering from poisoning abroad], even though he paid a terrible personal price: because he didn’t want to lose his place as a Russian politician.”

Editor's note: This story has been updated to correct the dates of the presidential election.