Russia’s elections are set to deliver another parliament dominated by the party of power, United Russia, and a house of MPs fiercely loyal to Vladimir Putin. The Kremlin says the vote matters because it is the first parliamentary election since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, and officials say nearly two hundred war veterans are taking part in the election.
That is the machinery on display: a parliament built to stay obedient, a war used as political weather, and a ballot that arrives with the outcome already heavily managed. Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov said, “We have our own political system, our own political process.” Critics dismiss the vote as neither free nor fair, but the Kremlin says it does not care what they say.
The State Sets the Boundaries
BBC’s Steve Rosenberg reported that the campaign has offered a window on Russian society four-and-a-half years into the war. In one state TV broadcast, the anchor said, “Good evening and welcome to tonight’s campaign speeches by candidates for Duma Electoral District 158,” before the studio director cut to a wide shot revealing six empty lecterns. The host then admitted, “The candidates haven’t turned up,” and added, “So, it’s goodbye from me.” Empty lecterns. Full control. That’s the rhythm.
In another TV debate, one crooning candidate sang, “The Communist Party, onwards we go! We’re with the people, don’t you know?” At the final session of the previous Duma in July, MPs stood and applauded as the speaker of the house chanted repeatedly, “Russia, Putin, Victory! Russia, Putin, Victory!” The choreography is blunt. The message is blunter.
Communist Party leader Gennady Zyuganov said, “All parties in the Duma, every single one, voted in favour of 170 laws to support the special military operation.” He added, “In that sense there is 100% agreement in the Duma.” Rosenberg said he met Zyuganov on the campaign trail outside Moscow at a bread and biscuit factory. The factory floor and the parliament floor seem to share the same arrangement: consent first, debate later, if at all.
War Memory, Managed Politics
The anti-war party Yabloko is calling for a ceasefire in Ukraine. Back in July it was the only anti-war party in Russia to be registered for the election. Twelve days later, the Supreme Court removed it from the ballot. That was widely interpreted as a sign of Kremlin concern that anti-war messaging could strike a chord with Russian voters.
Despite Yabloko’s exclusion from the party list, some of its candidates are still running in individual constituency races. In recent weeks, growing numbers of Yabloko candidates have been detained by police, prosecuted for various offences and barred from the election. Yabloko candidate Grigory Grishin said, “The police are carrying out a political order. That’s no secret.” He added, “This way, the authorities are setting the boundaries within which they believe the elections should take place.” He also said, “It is well known that the demand for an end to the bloodshed in this conflict with Ukraine is very popular. In my opinion, most people in Russia now want peace and Yabloko helped people express this. That’s why it’s been excluded from the party lists, and why individual candidates are being barred.”
Grishin said that three policemen in civilian clothes asked him to accompany them to the station, which he did. He said the police told him he had posted what they claimed was an extremist symbol: the word “Navalny,” and that by doing so he had propagandised extremism via his Telegram channel. Alexei Navalny was Russia’s most prominent opposition leader and Kremlin critic who died in prison in 2024. He had been convicted on several charges, including extremism.
The Russian authorities insist that the Duma elections are transparent and fair. Critics point to opposition politicians who have been forced into exile or put in prison. Last year, one of the leaders of a prominent independent election monitoring group in Russia was jailed for five years. Grigory Melkonyants was convicted on charges of working with an “undesirable organisation.” His election monitoring group, Golos, has shut down.
What Voting Means Under Power
Fifty miles from Moscow, in the town of Dmitrov, Rosenberg saw little sign of an election. In the town centre there is a memorial to “Heroes of the special military operation”: local people killed fighting in Ukraine. Olga, whose son-in-law is a soldier in the “special operation,” said, “We feel it,” because of the people who’ve gone to fight and the families left behind with sons, husbands, children and grandchildren there. “But these elections can’t influence what will happen,” she said.
Polina said, “I’d like us to live in a peaceful country, with no war, so that you don’t have to worry that a drone will fall down in front of you.” Ivan, a barber, said, “What worries me is that no matter how much you earn it’s not enough. Prices are rising faster than wages. I speak to lots of people in my job. I know how hard-up they are.” Rosenberg said Ukrainian drone attacks on Russian oil refineries have sparked widespread fuel shortages, while economic pressures are increasing.
Grishin said, “Western elections and elections in Russia are completely different things.” He added, “Elections in the West are a way of forming a government, which is replaced later if voters aren’t satisfied. Elections in Russia never bring a change in government. At best, they’re a way of influencing it, of sending a signal. But power in Russia never changed because of an election. That’s how Russia is.” The sentence lands like a verdict, even if it came from inside the system’s own cage. The vote goes on. The power stays put.