Is Russia a Fascist State Now?

Since the invasion of Ukraine, both the expert and academic communities have witnessed a noticeable increase in debates about the nature of the current Russian political regime. Some intellectuals, such as Timothy Snyder or Oleksandr Motyl, have concluded that contemporary Russia fits the definition of a fascist state. Arguments in support of this claim typically include expansionism, militarism, a cult of the personality, glorification of war, the suppression of civil and political freedoms, the near-total absence of legal opposition, the denial of the self-determination for Ukrainians as a separate national group, and the commission of war crimes. Yet, the absence of palingenetic ultranationalism (a core and necessary myth of fascism), mass participation in political life, and the presence of pseudo-democratic legitimacy of the leader make Russia a non-fascist state.

Passive Loyalism and Non-Participation

The Putin regime indeed displays a number of features reminiscent of fascist dictatorships. Its expansionist ambitions, often perceived as an attempt to restore a modified version of the Soviet empire, are evident. Political opposition, apart from a few cautious voices, has been eliminated. State television channels are under full Kremlin control, and the few remaining private outlets operate within strict boundaries and are aware that criticism is tolerated only in narrow, non-political areas. Entry into political office is reserved for those fully loyal to the Kremlin. The political field has been effectively cleansed of dissent. However, history has known many dictatorships that imposed harsh repression, like the regimes of Mobutu, Amin, Horthy, Pinochet, or the Iranian ayatollahs. Still, they are not considered fascist. Repression and propaganda alone do not constitute fascism.

In Russia’s case, there is no mass mobilisation of the population and no totalitarian ideology. Although posters featuring the “Heroes of the Special Military Operation” are widespread, recruitment for the war relies on generous financial incentives rather than ideological indoctrination. Indoctrination classes at schools target future generations, but even here there is no coherent ideology. What is often called the Russian ideology is simply the promotion of patriotism, which, in practice, means loyalty to any decision from authorities. One should not be confused: some kind of indoctrination is a common feature of repressive dictatorships, as it helps to increase loyalty and justify the regime’s existence. However, a fascist regime requires firstly, the mobilisation of the masses’ energies, involving the nation as a whole into the political process and politicising everyday life; and secondly, a clear, future-oriented modernising agenda aimed at the total remaking of the society. Russia now does not seem to move in that direction. For the majority of the population, especially in the major cities, the authorities try to maintain an illusion of normality, that “nothing serious is happening”. The goal is to preserve the sense of stability, and therefore loyalty. The partial mobilisation of September 2022 was a reluctant measure to replenish the army after heavy losses. The Kremlin fears political consequences of further mobilisation waves. Individuals with a clear ideological vision are useful to the Kremlin only as temporary fellow travellers, expected to adapt to whatever is deemed politically convenient.

The authorities do not seek to create a mass political movement. For the Kremlin, the key is to obey. When any important public figure, even radically pro-war, appears, this is perceived as a potential threat by the regime. Under a fascist regime, citizens have no choice but to participate in political organisations with explicit ideological obligations. In Russia today, by contrast, the state encourages atomisation and non-participation.

Pseudo-Democratic Legitimacy and Absence of Palingenesis

The state propaganda certainly portrays Vladimir Putin as a strong, confident leader who has restored stability after the chaos in Russia in the 1990s. Yet, Putin is not a quasi-sacred figure whose public adoration is obligatory. Russians are not required to love him, attend rallies in his honour, or keep his portrait at home. The system is personalist, but its legitimacy is framed in a pseudo-democratic tradition. Putin and his party, United Russia, repeatedly emphasise their “electoral victories” as proof of popular will. Fascist regimes, by contrast, ground legitimacy in the leader’s extraordinary will and historical mission, not in elections. Parliamentary procedures, even nominal ones, are alien to fascist regimes. In contemporary Russia, they serve precisely the opposite function. The regime does not mobilise mass enthusiasm but relies on the ritual of elections to simulate consensus rather than to express a national revolutionary will.

Furthermore, fascism is not only anti-democratic and anti-liberal, but it is also anti-conservative. Putin’s discourse does not reject conservatism. Contrary to fascist logic, the official narrative embraces both Soviet nostalgia and traditional values. The Soviet Union is invoked as a great power that coexisted on equal terms with the West, while “traditional values” justify domestic repression. The regime combines an authoritarian internal order, purged of visible opposition, and framed as moral restoration, with an imperial, revanchist foreign policy aimed at reviving Soviet-era grandeur. This distinction highlights the crucial difference between classical fascism and Russia’s present political system. Roger Griffin, one of the leading theorists of fascism, defined its minimum as “palingenetic ultranationalism”: the myth of national rebirth after a period of decadence, leading towards a completely new state of the society, combined with extreme nationalism. For Mussolini and Hitler alike, the idea of rebirth implied the creation of a new civilisation and a “new man”. Mussolini’s invocation of the Roman Empire, for example, was not a literal restoration of its institutions and practices, but a vision of a radically new political order. Hitler’s project was similarly transformative. The past represented not a lost “golden age”, but rather displayed national energy capable of creating a new revolutionary domestic order. A New Man for fascists means a transformative change in people’s thinking, making them active and inseparable parts of a totalitarian society. Putin’s Russia, instead, aspires to a reactionary, conservative order, an imitation of the Soviet Union adapted to modern realities and elite interests, but not a new civilisation. 

Aggressive and Repressive, But Not Fascist

Undeniably, Russia today resembles a repressive dictatorship.

Yet there is an absence of mass mobilisation, palingenetic myth of rebirth, and totalitarian transformation. That makes Russia a highly authoritarian, personalist, and aggressive state, but a non-fascist one.

Recognising this distinction is not a matter of academic pedantry; it is essential for understanding the limits of logic in Putin’s political project, as well as assessment for possible post-Putin regime dynamics. Whether Russia can evolve into a fascist regime under Putin remains an open and analytically distinct question.

Written by George Bell, Edited by Georg Müller

Photo Credit: Wikimedia Commons (Uploaded 7 July, 2015)