Latest news with #Tsargrad
The Sun
8 hours ago
- Business
- The Sun
Elon Musk's estranged dad Errol hails Russia as the ‘peak of civilisation' & gushes over Putin at staged Moscow event
TESLA tycoon Elon Musk's estranged dad Errol has hailed Russia as the "peak of civilisation" - and even gushed over mad Vladimir Putin. Errol Musk, 79, made the explosive remarks in Moscow where he appeared at a Kremlin-backed event organised by the Russian dictator's inner circle. 8 8 8 It comes just days after his billionaire son's high-profile alliance with the US President imploded in a fierce online feud. Musk Snr took part in the Tsargrad propaganda forum where he bizarrely declared Moscow the "best capital" in the world. Marking his first time in Russia, Errol said: "I think the image that people give to us in the West of Russia is completely wrong. "Russia is wonderful, it's absolutely amazing. He added how it was "quite clear" that Moscow was better than any other city across the globe. Not only did the South African businessman praise Russia however, but also its mad leader Putin and, in turn, challenged the West's portrayal of him and his country. Errol said: "I think [Putin] is a very impressive man - he's proved that. A very stable, impressive man. "As for the perception of Russia, it's very wrong." He added: "So the perception in America by the media, I will call it the fake media, is that Russia is a bad place and its full of very bad people, and they're all going to kill you to come here, which is complete nonsense." He explained how he was coming to Russia with his daughter Alexandra - but his sons told her that she musn't go "under any circumstances". And after Errol himself claims to have been given warnings on going to Moscow, he said he "arrived here, and the first thing I saw was a perfect total civilisation in every direction." He added: "I see a city that easily rivals ancient Rome. "And probably, I made a comment to somebody earlier, it's by far not by a little but by far the premier capital city in the world." Errol also discussed his estranged Tesla tycoon son Elon and his astronautics exploration company SpaceX - but credited Russia as originally being the "leader" of space engineering before his son "took over". He said it "all started off with the Russian attempts" which he said were "quite amazing". Just a day ago, speaking of the explosive feud between Elon and US President Trump, Musk Snr revealed that his son was grappling with regret and fatigue from his turbulent stint in Washington. He said: 'So at the moment, Elon is inclined to say that he's made a mistake.' 'Trump will prevail. He's the president, he was elected as the president. 'Elon made a mistake, I think, but he's tired, he's stressed. 8 8 8 8 8 "They are all suffering from a bit of PTSD, a post-traumatic stress disorder over the last few months, they started hitting out at each other. 'And then in the end, it's just him and Trump left… They still don't know what to do, so they fight with each other until they can come to normal conditions.' And in response to a question from a Russian propaganda publication on how to "raise a genius," Errol said that a child needed to be "spanked a lot". Errol's ex-wife and Elon's mum Maye accused him of beating her during their marriage. She also once revealed that Elon tried to stand up for her during one of the beatings as a child. Errol has always denied being abusive to his ex-wife. Errol will speak at the Future Forum 2050, organised by Malofeev and Putin ideologist and 'philosopher' Alexander Dugin. Meanwhile, Russia appears eager to capitalize on Musk's estrangement from the US political elite. Putin crony Dmitry Medvedev cheekily offered to mediate peace talks between 'D and E' — Trump and Elon— 'for a reasonable fee and to accept Starlink shares as payment.' Another Kremlin loyalist, ex-space chief Dmitry Rogozin, publicly offered Musk asylum. 'You are respected in Russia. If you encounter insurmountable problems in the US, come to us and become one of us,' Rogozin wrote. Russia would offer him 'reliable comrades and complete freedom of technical creativity'. TRUMP FALLOUT The world's richest man Musk — who reportedly donated $288 million to Trump's 2024 campaign and briefly served as a White House aide — has now turned on the president over his sweeping tax and spending bill. Elon even claimed on X that Trump was tied to disgraced paedophile Jeffrey Epstein, though the post was later deleted and the White House dismissed the allegation outright. Their bromance is now beyond repair. On Sunday, Trump confirmed to NBC that he has no interest in making amends: 'I would assume so, yeah,' he said when asked if their relationship was over. 'I have no intention of speaking to him.' The former allies have been locked in an escalating war of words for days - throwing insults at each other in an explosive dispute. What is Elon & Errol's relationship? By Annabel Bate, Foreign News Reporter ERROL Musk and his son Elon have a very turbulent relationship, characterised by estrangement. Elon has describd his dad as a "terrible human being" and "evil" in the past. Meanwhile Errol has called his Tesla tycoon son a "spoilt child". Errol's ex-wife and Elon Musk's mum Maye accused him of beating her during their marriage. She also once revealed that Elon tried to stand up for her during one of the beatings as a child. Errol has always denied being abusive to his ex-wife. After his parents divorced, Elon initially went to live with his mother in Canada. But he was sent back to South Africa to live with Errol just a year later. Errol said the split had a big impact on Elon's mental state at the time. He was very unsure of himself," the 77-year-old said. "Until he was 12 he slept with me in the main bedroom on my big double bed. "He had his own room but I never told him to go to his room." Although there were struggles, the Musks were never short on money during Elon's youth. "It was a privileged world," said Errol, who was the part owner of an emerald mine.
Scottish Sun
3 days ago
- Politics
- Scottish Sun
What is Ukraine's ‘mystery missile'? Russia quaking after Kyiv uses ‘new weapon' to blitz Putin on night of hell
Click to share on X/Twitter (Opens in new window) Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) VLADIMIR Putin has been left shell-shocked by a brand new mystery missile he claims Ukraine attacked him with overnight. A massive strike ripped through an airport in Bryansk and reportedly destroyed a placement of Putin's Iskander missile system. 9 Vladimir Putin has been left shell-shocked by a brand new mystery missile he claims Ukraine attacked him with overnight in Bryansk Credit: East2West 9 The huge blasts targeted a Russian airfield with a giant mushroom cloud eruption seen by onlookers Credit: East2West 9 The severity of the attack has led to Russians accusing Kyiv of using German-supplied Taurus missiles Credit: Getty 9 Thursday saw one of the most explosive evenings of fighting for some time during the gruelling war. The night of hell saw Putin exact revenge for Ukraine's stunning Operation Spiderweb drone blitz last weekend. The Russia tyrant hammered Ukraine with 407 drones and 44 missiles - unleashing a deadly wave of strikes that killed three and injured dozens. But a valiant Ukraine hit back with their own set of attacks. Dramatic footage shows one explosion, believed to be from the mystery weapon, followed by a powerful secondary blast. A follow up attack also took out a launcher for the Iskander a day earlier, Ukraine claimed. But the blasts were something never been seen before by the quaking Russians during their illegal invasion. This led to speculation on pro-Kremlin media channels that Ukraine may have fired a powerful German-supplied Taurus missile. Putin-loyalists Tsargrad said on Telegram: 'Did the first Taurus strike Russia? "Unprecedented escalation in Bryansk and destruction of Iskander missiles.' Putin plotting 'final killer offensive' to WIN Ukraine war despite Russian losses nearing 1 MILLION As channel MIG Russia claimed the pinpoint Bryansk strike was carried out with Western-made long-range missiles. If it was a Taurus, it would mark the first ever time it has been used by Kyiv. The Russians would also view it as an 'unprecedented escalation' in the conflict due to the damage the weapon can cause. Discourse around German weapons has ramped up in the parts 24 hours ever since Chancellor Friedrich Merz met in the Oval Office with Donald Trump. German sources have had to deny that any agreement had been reached during the talks to send supplies of long-range Taurus' to Ukraine. Merz had announced at the end of May that Ukraine's key backers - including Germany, France, the UK and the US - had all lifted restrictions on where donated weapons can be used. And the announcement could even mean that Britain's state-of-the-art Storm Shadow missiles could soon be used by Ukraine. Britain's bunker-busting Storm Shadow rockets are a nightmare for enemies as they are capable of dodging air defences. 9 The mystery blast from Ukraine saw two explosion ring out across the airfield Credit: East2West 9 Firefighters work at the site of a Russian drone attack in Kyiv Credit: Reuters 9 A Russian bomb lands in Ukraine overnight Credit: AP The £800,000 missiles - already being fired within Ukraine - use GPS to precisely hit targets, and can travel at 600mph. The Taurus missile system is widely regarded as Germany's equivalent to the Storm Shadow. The tit-for-tat attacks came hours after US President Donald Trump said it might be better to let Ukraine and Russia fight for a while. The president has been so far unsuccessful on getting the two countries to agree to peace - with Moscow not moving on its demands. The American was full of praise for Ukraine though as he labelled the daring Operation Spiderweb attack as "strong and badass". The daring operation saw a fired up Ukraine wreck 41 Russian planes across the strategic airfields. Putin's doomsday bomber fleet was crippled with a third of his most prized aircraft lying in smouldering wrecks. It comes as a new report accused Putin of plotting a final killer offensive along three fronts to win the war this summer. The Russian army is nearing one million casualties in its bungled three-year-old invasion as peace talks continue to stall. Now, some 125,000 Russian soldiers are reportedly right now massing along the Sumy and Kharkiv frontiers, according to Ukraine's military intelligence. Over the past fortnight border villages have fallen to Russia as it is may to be preparing the ground for the offensive. But some senior commanders in Ukraine believe that could be a feint and Russia is actually preparing to attack further south to push further into the Donbas, Ukraine Pravda reports. Russia is likely to attack through three areas near each other in the Donbas - Kramatorsk, Kostiantynivka, and Pokrovsk. 9 Fire and smoke rise in Kyiv following a Russian drone and missile strike overnight Credit: Reuters
Al Jazeera
14-03-2025
- Politics
- Al Jazeera
Did Putin's fatigues signal Russia's resistance to a ceasefire in Ukraine?
Kyiv, Ukraine – Since the dawn of his rule 25 years ago, Russian President Vladimir Putin and his public relations team have carefully sculpted his image as that of a strong, stern macho man. Russian television and Kremlin photographers have shown him wearing a judo uniform while throwing his opponents to the ground, playing hockey and scoring goals, horse-riding bare-chested, hunting, fishing and swimming. What the ex-colonel with the KGB, the Soviet Union's main intelligence agency, has almost never done in public was don a military uniform – despite his status of Russia's commander-in-chief. Not until Wednesday, when Putin was seen wearing green camouflage at a command post in the western region of Kursk next to Russia's top general, Valery Gerasimov. The first signal was that Putin was putting an end to one of the most humiliating developments of the Russian-Ukrainian war and his leadership. Last August, Ukrainian forces occupied several hundred square kilometres in Kursk making the largest occupied town, the district centre of Sudzha, their 'capital' for 215 days. It was the first time a foreign power occupied a piece of Russia's European side since World War II – after Putin's promises to 'take Kyiv within three days'. In 1969, Chinese forces briefly seized an island on the Ussuri river during a seven-month conflict between Moscow and Beijing. Earlier this week, Russian forces with a little bit of brotherly help from elite North Korean troops pushed them out of Sudzha. But Ukrainian forces still control half a dozen villages and farms in the westernmost part of Kursk that lies next to the border. Putin visited Kursk for the first time since the occupation. His military garb's symbolism went beyond the Kursk humiliation. Some observers have interpreted Putin's fashion choice as a silent yet firm 'no' to the ceasefire deal the United States and Ukraine agreed upon after talks in Riyadh on Tuesday. But to a Russian observer, Putin's fashion choice was a non-verbal message about an 'alternative' to the talks. 'Either Russia's demands [on Ukraine] are accepted or the president is taking another form, another emanation of his position, i.e. the position of the supreme commander as the direct head of the armed forces of a nation at war,' analyst Andrey Pinchuk wrote in an op-ed for the pro-Kremlin Tsargrad television channel's website. Another occasion when Putin wore something that resembled a military uniform was in September 2022, when he was seen wearing a navy jacket during military and navy drills in Russia's Pacific provinces. Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov specifically pointed out that Putin's choice of attire was related only to the 'cold and windy weather'. A year earlier, Peskov said that despite his commander-in-chief's title, Putin 'didn't have to wear a military uniform' even if he attends drills. In Kyiv, a Ukrainian psychologist believed the uniform was meant to emphasise 'how indifferent he is to all these peace initiatives and how he is determined to fight on and win' in Ukraine, said Svitlana Chunikhina, vice president of the Association of Political Psychologists in the Ukrainian capital. 'In response to a truce proposal, Putin for the first time donned a military uniform … What's interesting is why he, all of a sudden, needed such an amplification, the doubling of his message,' she asked rhetorically. She suggested that the uniform was too large and drowned Putin, who turned 72 last October and looked tired in the military gear. 'This is what's called an excessive signal,' she said. A Ukrainian war veteran agreed. 'Honestly, he looked like a rat. Which he is, hiding in the bunker and ordering the killing of women and little children,' Karen Ovsepyan, who demobilised after suffering a serious injury near the eastern town of Avdiivka in 2022, told Al Jazeera. Ukrainians met Putin's brief makeover with black humour. Comedian Yuri Velikiy, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy's former colleague with District 95, a comedic troupe that propelled the future leader to stardom, challenged his Instagram subscribers to 'find 10 differences' between Putin and a photo of a small-framed Russian prisoner of war in a poorly fitting, oversize uniform. Another joke suggested that emaciated Putin looked like a 'cheap Chinese knockoff' of his former self during Kremlin photo-ops. And after all, Putin simply envies Zelenskyy, who made green fatigues his trademark attire, and 'cosplays him', said Kyiv-based political analyst Vyacheslav Likhachev. The uniform also shows that Putin can get rid of his usual bespoke suits to poke fun at US President Donald Trump and his February 28 Oval Office spat with Zelenskyy over the latter's decision to don fatigues. Putin wants to 'stress that here, in the trenches, in the clouds of powder smoke, the [Russian] motherland's destiny is determined, not in some faraway Riyadh or the Oval Office,' Likhachev said. But on a more serious note, Putin's look also emphasised the importance of liberating Kursk before Moscow and Washington begin peace talks. 'It's understandable how important it is to liberate the Kursk region before the talks begin – even if all the areas occupied by Ukrainian forces can't be actually liberated,' Likhachev said. Putin has for years nurtured the idea of seeing Ukraine subjugated, according to a Ukrainian official who held long talks with him on several occasions. 'He is tough and he behaves like he has this almost divine power, over Ukraine in particular,' Yuri Vitrenko, who met Putin while heading Naftogaz, Ukraine's state-controlled energy company, told this reporter in 2021. 'And I would not expect any kind of mercy or any kind of reciprocity or any kind of modern-world values from him,' he said months before Russia's full-scale invasion of 2022. It took Putin two days to respond to the US-Ukrainian offer of a ceasefire – and the answer sounded like a 'yes' shrouded in layers of doubts and counter-conditions. 'We agree with the proposal to cease hostilities, but we have to keep in mind that the ceasefire must be aimed at a long-lasting peace and it must look at the root causes of the crisis,' Putin told a news conference on Thursday night. He then suggested that Kyiv stop mobilising and training its troops and the West stop supplying arms to them. 'And what shall we do with the Ukrainian forces remaining in the Kursk region?' he said. 'We are in favour of [the ceasefire], but there are nuances,' he concluded. He was wearing a suit and tie.
Yahoo
25-02-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Russia's real strongman: Meet the oligarch who's pushing Putin to destroy Ukraine
Konstantin Malofeyev is on a roll. It's the day after Donald Trump's victory in the 2024 election, and the Russian oligarch's 900,000 followers on Telegram expect a rollicking post. Malofeyev, after all, is one of the Russian right's most adept media magnates, mentored by a former producer from Fox News on how to nourish and captivate a conservative audience in Russia. Malofeyev illustrates his postelection post with a provocative image of Trump raising a clenched fist. Trump "is our enemy," he declares. "He wants a great America." Even so, he suggests, Trump might be able to get together with Vladimir Putin and agree on a common goal: how to divide the world between the two great superpowers. He finishes with a Trumpian flourish: "LET'S MAKE RUSSIA GREAT AGAIN." It might sound like standard social media bluster, but Malofeyev can't be dismissed as a blowhard. He combines the media savvy of Steve Bannon with Elon Musk's ability to bankroll his own crusades, but he goes to greater lengths than either: The nationalist, religiously infused political faction he helps lead includes elements of the country's military and security services. On his multimedia platform, Tsargrad, which claims more than 3 million followers, Malofeyev beats the drums for Russian nationalism with a fervor that rivals the strongman posturing of Trump himself. He's also a proud sponsor of violent military rebellion: In 2014, he helped organize — and perhaps even instigate — the Russian separatist rebellion in the Donbas region of Ukraine, which served as a precursor to Putin's all-out invasion. When Malofeyev speaks, everyone from Kremlin insiders to policymakers in Washington pays heed, his pronouncements seen as a signal of where Putin might be headed. He also has a fan base among American conservatives who cheer his screeds against "wokeness" and who view Washington and NATO as the culprits for the war in Ukraine. "He has enough money that he can certainly get his ideas listened to," says E. Wayne Merry, a Russia expert and former foreign service officer who served in the US Embassy in Moscow. It pays, then, to understand what Malofeyev has in mind to "Make Russia Great Again" — a goal that, in his mind, might be achieved only by full-scale nuclear war. "We are able to and must deliver a truly potent retaliation strike in a way that will force the West to curb support of Ukraine," Malofeyev wrote in an article published last year on Tsargrad. Does he truly believe the war in Ukraine can be won with nuclear weapons? "Yes, I still think it is possible," Malofeyev tells me in a meandering, 7,000-word opus he sends in response to questions I submitted to him. "We have been messing around with a weak rival like Ukraine for too long, even with all the help they get from NATO." In his view, Russia must rebuild the empire along 19th-century tsarist lines. "I see my position now in Russia as someone deeply engaged in its imperial revival," Malofeyev writes. "I believe that Russia will become an Empire again, and we are heading towards that end irreversibly and decisively," he adds. "I will help this come about with all my might." Like Putin, Malofeyev wants to return Russia to a time before the Soviet revolution — reviving traditional values and institutions like the Orthodox Church and reassembling a "Great Russia" that includes ethnic Russians living in places like Ukraine. As both a child and an exuberant architect of this grand mission, his zeal for it possibly exceeds Putin's own. Malofeyev was born in 1974 in a Moscow suburb, where his father was the head of a Soviet astrophysics laboratory. When he was 11 or 12, he tells me, one of his father's colleagues, a theoretical physicist, handed him a Bible, which he devoured. A grave childhood illness opened "some inner horizons," and his great-grandmother nourished a religious sensibility. But it was "The Lord of the Rings" that stimulated his conversion. "I was one of the boys who came to faith in Jesus Christ through Tolkien's fairy tale universe," Malofeyev tells me. "It may sound strange but it's true!" In the summer of 1991, with the Soviet Union on the brink of collapse, Malofeyev enrolled at Moscow State University to study law. By his account, his political views had already crystallized. He wanted Russia to go backward, to the pre-Soviet era when Imperial Russia was ruled by a tsar with the blessing of the Russian Orthodox Church. As a student, he wrote papers extolling prerevolutionary Russia, guided by his "single dream" — to "revive the monarchy in Russia and the Russian Empire itself." The Russian people were happiest then, he believed. His given name, he points out to me, was in honor of his great-grandmother's late husband, an officer in the White Tsarist Army. This nostalgic vision dovetailed with an unremitting antipathy toward Western democracy — especially America's — as an empty form of what he derisively calls "show business." In 1993, as a law student, he watched with revulsion as Russian tanks, on orders from President Boris Yeltsin, fired on nationalist oppositionist rebels in the Russian parliament. "Yeltsin's actions were being coordinated directly from the American embassy," Malofeyev told me. (In fact, the American embassy viewed the shelling as a disaster for Yeltsin and for the cause of Russian democracy.) After graduating, Malofeyev embarked on a path through the no-holds-barred terrain of Moscow finance. Like many of the country's newly minted oligarchs, he prospered through a combination of guile and strategic alliances with Kremlin-connected figures. In 2005, he launched his own investment fund, Marshall Capital Partners, whose largest single stake was in Rostelecom, Russia's state-controlled telecommunications provider. Russia was not yet a pariah in Western business and political circles, and with his fluent English, Malofeyev developed personal connections to players both on Wall Street and in London's financial district. At its peak, his investment fund reportedly amassed assets of $1.5 billion. But Malofeyev, unlike other oligarchs, did not shy away from promoting his political views. When the Kremlin was advancing a law to suppress 'gay propaganda,' Malofeyev told cultural conservatives in the West that "Christian Russia" could help liberate their own countries from what he called "the new liberal anti-Christian totalitarianism of political correctness, gender ideology, mass-media censorship and neo-Marxist dogma." To expand his political influence, he hired Jack Hanick, a former Fox News producer, to help create a Russian media platform modeled on Fox News. When Rupert Murdoch founded Fox News, Malofeyev was told by Hanick, "studies showed that 80% of the American population was conservative, but at the same time 80% of journalists were liberals." Malofeyev immediately saw the parallels. "When I heard about this," he tells me, "I believed that we could do a similar thing in Russia, because during the Western 'colonization' of our media during the 90s, Russian media as well became very liberal and pro-Western." Under Hanick's tutelage, Malofeyev was on his way to becoming a full-fledged culture warrior. Then a transformative event — one that took place on an actual battlefield — propelled him into an even more radical role: an organizer of armed rebellion. In February 2014, the Maidan revolution in Ukraine toppled the country's pro-Russian president, Viktor Yanukovych. It also threatened to bring Ukraine into the European Union — a move that would represent a political and economic setback for both Putin and Malofeyev. Alexandar Mihailovic, the author of "Illiberal Vanguard: Populist Elitism in the United States and Russia," tells me Malofeyev's "personal finances" stood to suffer, because his "considerable investments in import and export businesses" in the Donbas region were suddenly at grave risk. Two months after the uprising, a militia of pro-Russia commandos engaged in a shootout in the Donbas against forces loyal to Kyiv. The group was headed by Igor Girkin, a former operative in the Russian security services whom Malofeyev had brought onto the payroll as head of security at Marshall Capital. On a phone call intercepted by Ukrainian intelligence, Malofeyev could be heard showering praise on Girkin. He was especially pleased the clash took place on Palm Sunday, the Christian holiday that marks Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Malofeyev: So you killed exactly right people. Girkin: Excellent! Thank you. Malofeyev: Also want to say you marked very well the holiday. Malofeyev was a prime financial backer of the pro-Russia separatists as they maneuvered to establish political control of the Donbas. Alexander Borodai, the prime minister of the self-proclaimed Donetsk People's Republic, had consulted for Malofeyev at Marshall. As the fighting raged on, Malofeyev brushed aside questions about why a self-professed Christian would back an armed and bloody insurrection. "You are confusing Christianity with Buddhism," he told a Russian publication at the time. "Christianity knows a large number of holy warriors," including saints who "chopped people up with a spear and a sword." Igor Girkin, he said, "took communion during the war, banned swearing in his units, and said that war is a holy cause." To this day, Russia analysts debate whether Malofeyev, in fomenting the rebellion, was acting on his own or on the Kremlin's instructions. It's a question that goes to the core of who he is: Just how willing is Malofeyev to act on behalf of his interests, and in his view Russia's, without express permission from Putin? "I am 80% sure that was his initiative" in the Donbas, Ivan Grek, the director of the Russia program at George Washington University, tells me. The US and other Western governments sanctioned Malofeyev as "closely linked" to the separatist rebellion in Ukraine. But despite the financial blow he suffered, Malofeyev sped ahead with his media venture. In 2015, Tsargrad launched with a Fox-like slogan: "We are not afraid to tell the truth." But Vasily Gatov, a Russia media analyst, has noted that Tsargrad's closest American parallel is not Fox News but Breitbart, which offers a similarly "hyper partisan" blend of news and opinion. To serve as chief editor, Malofeyev brought in Aleksandr Dugin, whose nationalistic writings enjoyed a following among Moscow's political elite, including military strategists. Dugin's 1997 book "The Foundations of Geopolitics," called for the restoration of a Moscow-run Orthodox Eurasian empire, in which Ukraine would be stripped of its sovereignty and become "a purely administrative sector of the Russian centralized state." The Russians, Dugin preached, were an "imperial people." The declared goal of Tsargrad — the name Slavs gave to the ancient Byzantine capital of Constantinople — was to "rebuild the empire." "Aleksandr Dugin is a great man, I should say he is truly brilliant," Malofeyev tells me. Dugin now serves as editor in chief of Katehon, a think tank Malofeyev established. The organization derives its name from a biblical term that Malofeyev translates as "the force that keeps the world from being consumed by the coming evil." Dugin's views, bankrolled by Malofeyev, have made him a darling of the American right. When Tucker Carlson visited Moscow last year for an exclusive interview with Putin, he also sat down with Dugin, whom he hailed as "a writer who writes about big ideas." In Dugin's telling, Putin was despised in the West because of his defense of "traditional values." Agreeing, Carlson bemoaned what he called the "very serious" antipathy directed at Putin. When Carlson posted a video of the interview on X, it garnered more than 8 million views. As Tsargrad has expanded its reach and influence, Malofeyev has outpaced even the Kremlin's ambitions for empire-building. In 2022, when Putin finally launched his all-out invasion of Ukraine, a headline on Tsargrad exulted: "The predictions are coming true: Ukraine is no more." Now, with Trump's return to power, Malofeyev sees an opportunity to end the war and reestablish Russia's reach into Europe. "There is only one single conversation that can take place to solve all of this," he told me. "A summit between President Putin and President Trump, where these two world leaders would resolve the whole set of issues, redrawing global security into a new multipolar framework. Ukraine is only a small part of this bigger picture." It didn't take long for Malofeyev's desire to begin to materialize: The two leaders had a phone call on February 12, during which Putin hinted at his desire to end what he views as NATO's expansionist agenda on the frontiers of Europe. A week later, Trump called Ukraine's president Volodymyr Zelensky a "dictator" and said he's planning to meet with Putin to negotiate an end to the war. In the meantime, the message Tsargrad is delivering to Russians is that all is not well in the land Putin has ruled for so long. The platform often publishes the kind of dissent that the Kremlin normally moves to silence. "Society is tired of unpredictability and uncertainty," Yuri Pronko, a veteran Moscow journalist and one of Tsargrad's chief commentators, declared in a recent video. "Life in Russia has become very expensive, both literally and figuratively. Prices have skyrocketed, and if someone's salaries grow, they are immediately devalued by inflation and devaluation." I suggest to Pronko that his grim presentation doesn't sound like what the Kremlin wants to hear. "I am a journalist, not a propagandist," he tells me. "It may seem strange to you, but in Malofeyev's media I have more freedom than I previously had in other media." In Moscow, the platform is widely perceived as to the right of Putin. "A lot of people close to Tsargrad are radically opposed to Putin," says one insider. "For these people, Putin is not radical enough." Given Tsargrad's critical tone, why does the Kremlin — which has increasingly cracked down on naysayers — tolerate Malofeyev? It may suit Putin to remind Russians that he is not the most militant figure in Moscow. Malofeyev serves as a useful demonstration that "Putin is not the worst choice," says Dmitry Gudkov, a former member of Russia's parliament now living in exile. It's possible that Putin genuinely appreciates Malofeyev's fervent support for Russia's war in Ukraine, including medals for valor the oligarch hands out to Russian warriors. And it doesn't hurt that Malofeyev is married to Maria Lvova-Belova, who serves as Putin's commissioner for children's rights. Both Lvova-Belova and Putin have been indicted by the Hague on suspicion of "the war crime of unlawful deportation" of children from Ukraine to Russia. Malofeyev and his spouse, in any event, share with Putin the distinction of being supremely hated figures in Kyiv. A "nice family," is how Yulia Klymenko, a member of the Ukrainian parliament, sarcastically describes the Malofeyev pair to me in a text. "Ideological devil + convict witch. The only home for them is hell." Malofeyev's views on America come through loud and clear in his 20-page response to my questions. "It is proven fact that what you used to call 'Founding Fathers,' all of them were members of a secret, not at all transparent or democratically elected Masonic organization," he writes. "It was all a big show run by rich slave owners." He also rails against the "Deep State" that ran the Biden administration with "their perverted ideology (globalism, wokeism, cancel culture, encouragement of mass migration, gender issues) and live habits (pedophilia, child trafficking, and so on)." Still, he says, the future may offer hope: "I would like to agree with Elon Musk, who has recently said that we need to establish a direct democracy on Mars." His view of Trump's return to power contains a certain grudging respect. Trump and Musk, he says, are "transparent in their loyalty to post-liberalism, traditional values and anti-woke ideology." Given his cultural rhetoric, Malofeyev serves as a useful conduit to American conservatives, recasting Putin's government as a vital bastion of traditional values. Jackson Hinkle, a MAGA hard-liner whose podcast was banned by Twitch for propagating disinformation about the war in Ukraine, interviewed Malofeyev on his podcast after Trump's election, introducing him as a "Russian patriot" who had been "vilified by the US government." Hinkle assured listeners that Malofeyev — and by extension, Putin — deserved their admiration. "I don't consider him a villain," he said. It would be easy to dismiss Malofeyev's promotion of family values as a cynical ploy to win the support of Western conservatives. But everyone I spoke with about him — in Moscow, Washington, and Europe — views Malofeyev as sincere in his beliefs. Critics view him as a key cog in the culturally retrograde triumvirate of Trump, Putin, and Viktor Orbán, the prime minister of Hungary. "The Axis of Hate is back," Remy Bonny, a Belgium-based activist who advocates for LBTQ+ rights, tells me. In this transatlantic bloc, Bonny says, Malofeyev can be seen as an early and influential champion of Russia's emergence under Putin as a "pacesetter" for a global campaign against progressive values. Malofeyev, for this part, has a simple explanation for the latitude he is given to criticize Putin's policies. "I am an independent rich man," he told podcaster Hinkle last year. "I have nothing from the state. My media belongs to me, privately. My business is completely private." Just how much Malofeyev is worth isn't clear; the scuttlebutt in Moscow is that he has amassed a fresh pile of wealth in crypto. He won't disclose any information on his business affairs, he tells me, because that would make it easier for American prosecutors — "this gang of thieves" — to "steal my assets." The US government has seized some $5 million traced to a Malofeyev investment in a Texas bank, and the Justice Department has authorized transferring the funds to Ukraine to support war veterans. Still, outspoken as Malofeyev can be, he sometimes pulls his punches. A year ago, a Moscow court sentenced Igor Girkin to prison — the man Malofeyev once employed and praised as a holy warrior in the Donbas rebellion. Girkin's crime was to call out Putin as a "cowardly bum." Malofeyev apparently did nothing to help his former employee escape this fate. Girkin has said he had a falling out with Malofeyev on "how an honest Russian patriot should act." In Girkin's view, the oligarch's aspiration to fit Russia's government in a "patriotic-monarchist uniform" was "doomed to failure." One clue to Malofeyev's approach to Putin came in November, when he addressed a rally on National Unity Day, a Russian holiday. In the remarks he posted on his Telegram channel, he gave thanks to the local governor and bishop for participating in the celebration — but, tellingly, he made no mention of Russia's president. At 50, Malofeyev is not so much confronting the 72-year-old Putin as looking past him. When I asked him to describe his vision of a post-Putin Russia, Malofeyev said the Russian constitution should be changed to allow Putin to rule for life and to appoint a successor, just as in a monarchy. That step would fit with Malofeyev's cherished idea of a future for Russia constructed on a glorified idea of the past. It could also enable him to emerge as an influential player in the post-Putin era. I ask Merry, the former foreign service officer, who is likely to succeed Putin. Russia's next ruler, he says, will almost certainly be a "serious nationalist," he answers — and will likely come from the camp of those "frustrated with Putin's inability to get it done" in Ukraine. In other words, from the camp of which Malofeyev is a leader. As I pored over Malofeyev's responses to my questions, it seemed to me at times he was risking the Kremlin's ire. But his willingness to push back at Putin's war policy as soft and slow on Ukraine also reflects the frustration that many Russians feel over a bloody struggle that has ground on for more than a decade. At his year-end press conference in December, Putin was asked what he would do differently if he had the chance to go back to the beginning of the all-out invasion of Ukraine. "I would have thought the decision ought to have been taken earlier," he replied. Putin, in effect, has gravitated to the position long held by Malofayev. His life mission, to rebuild the empire, on track, the oligarch is proving an uncanny foreshadower of the direction of a turbulent Russia. Paul Starobin is the author of "Putin's Exiles: Their Fight for a Better Russia." Read the original article on Business Insider
Yahoo
23-02-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
Russia's real strongman: Meet the oligarch who's pushing Putin to destroy Ukraine
Konstantin Malofeyev is on a roll. It's the day after Donald Trump's victory in the 2024 election, and the Russian oligarch's 900,000 followers on Telegram expect a rollicking post. Malofeyev, after all, is one of the Russian right's most adept media magnates, mentored by a former producer from Fox News on how to nourish and captivate a conservative audience in Russia. Malofeyev illustrates his postelection post with a provocative image of Trump raising a clenched fist. Trump "is our enemy," he declares. "He wants a great America." Even so, he suggests, Trump might be able to get together with Vladimir Putin and agree on a common goal: how to divide the world between the two great superpowers. He finishes with a Trumpian flourish: "LET'S MAKE RUSSIA GREAT AGAIN." It might sound like standard social media bluster, but Malofeyev can't be dismissed as a blowhard. He combines the media savvy of Steve Bannon with Elon Musk's ability to bankroll his own crusades, but he goes to greater lengths than either: The nationalist, religiously infused political faction he helps lead includes elements of the country's military and security services. On his multimedia platform, Tsargrad, which claims more than 3 million followers, Malofeyev beats the drums for Russian nationalism with a fervor that rivals the strongman posturing of Trump himself. He's also a proud sponsor of violent military rebellion: In 2014, he helped organize — and perhaps even instigate — the Russian separatist rebellion in the Donbas region of Ukraine, which served as a precursor to Putin's all-out invasion. When Malofeyev speaks, everyone from Kremlin insiders to policymakers in Washington pays heed, his pronouncements seen as a signal of where Putin might be headed. He also has a fan base among American conservatives who cheer his screeds against "wokeness" and who view Washington and NATO as the culprits for the war in Ukraine. "He has enough money that he can certainly get his ideas listened to," says E. Wayne Merry, a Russia expert and former foreign service officer who served in the US Embassy in Moscow. It pays, then, to understand what Malofeyev has in mind to "Make Russia Great Again" — a goal that, in his mind, might be achieved only by full-scale nuclear war. "We are able to and must deliver a truly potent retaliation strike in a way that will force the West to curb support of Ukraine," Malofeyev wrote in an article published last year on Tsargrad. Does he truly believe the war in Ukraine can be won with nuclear weapons? "Yes, I still think it is possible," Malofeyev tells me in a meandering, 7,000-word opus he sends in response to questions I submitted to him. "We have been messing around with a weak rival like Ukraine for too long, even with all the help they get from NATO." In his view, Russia must rebuild the empire along 19th-century tsarist lines. "I see my position now in Russia as someone deeply engaged in its imperial revival," Malofeyev writes. "I believe that Russia will become an Empire again, and we are heading towards that end irreversibly and decisively," he adds. "I will help this come about with all my might." Like Putin, Malofeyev wants to return Russia to a time before the Soviet revolution — reviving traditional values and institutions like the Orthodox Church and reassembling a "Great Russia" that includes ethnic Russians living in places like Ukraine. As both a child and an exuberant architect of this grand mission, his zeal for it possibly exceeds Putin's own. Malofeyev was born in 1974 in a Moscow suburb, where his father was the head of a Soviet astrophysics laboratory. When he was 11 or 12, he tells me, one of his father's colleagues, a theoretical physicist, handed him a Bible, which he devoured. A grave childhood illness opened "some inner horizons," and his great-grandmother nourished a religious sensibility. But it was "The Lord of the Rings" that stimulated his conversion. "I was one of the boys who came to faith in Jesus Christ through Tolkien's fairy tale universe," Malofeyev tells me. "It may sound strange but it's true!" In the summer of 1991, with the Soviet Union on the brink of collapse, Malofeyev enrolled at Moscow State University to study law. By his account, his political views had already crystallized. He wanted Russia to go backward, to the pre-Soviet era when Imperial Russia was ruled by a tsar with the blessing of the Russian Orthodox Church. As a student, he wrote papers extolling prerevolutionary Russia, guided by his "single dream" — to "revive the monarchy in Russia and the Russian Empire itself." The Russian people were happiest then, he believed. His given name, he points out to me, was in honor of his great-grandmother's late husband, an officer in the White Tsarist Army. This nostalgic vision dovetailed with an unremitting antipathy toward Western democracy — especially America's — as an empty form of what he derisively calls "show business." In 1993, as a law student, he watched with revulsion as Russian tanks, on orders from President Boris Yeltsin, fired on nationalist oppositionist rebels in the Russian parliament. "Yeltsin's actions were being coordinated directly from the American embassy," Malofeyev told me. (In fact, the American embassy viewed the shelling as a disaster for Yeltsin and for the cause of Russian democracy.) After graduating, Malofeyev embarked on a path through the no-holds-barred terrain of Moscow finance. Like many of the country's newly minted oligarchs, he prospered through a combination of guile and strategic alliances with Kremlin-connected figures. In 2005, he launched his own investment fund, Marshall Capital Partners, whose largest single stake was in Rostelecom, Russia's state-controlled telecommunications provider. Russia was not yet a pariah in Western business and political circles, and with his fluent English, Malofeyev developed personal connections to players both on Wall Street and in London's financial district. At its peak, his investment fund reportedly amassed assets of $1.5 billion. Malofayev was on his way to becoming a full-fledged culture warrior. Then a transformative event propelled him into an even more radical role: organizer of armed rebellion. But Malofeyev, unlike other oligarchs, did not shy away from promoting his political views. When the Kremlin was advancing a law to suppress 'gay propaganda,' Malofeyev told cultural conservatives in the West that "Christian Russia" could help liberate their own countries from what he called "the new liberal anti-Christian totalitarianism of political correctness, gender ideology, mass-media censorship and neo-Marxist dogma." To expand his political influence, he hired Jack Hanick, a former Fox News producer, to help create a Russian media platform modeled on Fox News. When Rupert Murdoch founded Fox News, Malofeyev was told by Hanick, "studies showed that 80% of the American population was conservative, but at the same time 80% of journalists were liberals." Malofeyev immediately saw the parallels. "When I heard about this," he tells me, "I believed that we could do a similar thing in Russia, because during the Western 'colonization' of our media during the 90s, Russian media as well became very liberal and pro-Western." Under Hanick's tutelage, Malofeyev was on his way to becoming a full-fledged culture warrior. Then a transformative event — one that took place on an actual battlefield — propelled him into an even more radical role: an organizer of armed rebellion. In February 2014, the Maidan revolution in Ukraine toppled the country's pro-Russian president, Viktor Yanukovych. It also threatened to bring Ukraine into the European Union — a move that would represent a political and economic setback for both Putin and Malofeyev. Alexandar Mihailovic, the author of "Illiberal Vanguard: Populist Elitism in the United States and Russia," tells me Malofeyev's "personal finances" stood to suffer, because his "considerable investments in import and export businesses" in the Donbas region were suddenly at grave risk. Two months after the uprising, a militia of pro-Russia commandos engaged in a shootout in the Donbas against forces loyal to Kyiv. The group was headed by Igor Girkin, a former operative in the Russian security services whom Malofeyev had brought onto the payroll as head of security at Marshall Capital. On a phone call intercepted by Ukrainian intelligence, Malofeyev could be heard showering praise on Girkin. He was especially pleased the clash took place on Palm Sunday, the Christian holiday that marks Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Malofeyev: So you killed exactly right people. Girkin: Excellent! Thank you. Malofeyev: Also want to say you marked very well the holiday. Malofeyev was a prime financial backer of the pro-Russia separatists as they maneuvered to establish political control of the Donbas. Alexander Borodai, the prime minister of the self-proclaimed Donetsk People's Republic, had consulted for Malofeyev at Marshall. As the fighting raged on, Malofeyev brushed aside questions about why a self-professed Christian would back an armed and bloody insurrection. "You are confusing Christianity with Buddhism," he told a Russian publication at the time. "Christianity knows a large number of holy warriors," including saints who "chopped people up with a spear and a sword." Igor Girkin, he said, "took communion during the war, banned swearing in his units, and said that war is a holy cause." To this day, Russia analysts debate whether Malofeyev, in fomenting the rebellion, was acting on his own or on the Kremlin's instructions. It's a question that goes to the core of who he is: Just how willing is Malofeyev to act on behalf of his interests, and in his view Russia's, without express permission from Putin? "I am 80% sure that was his initiative" in the Donbas, Ivan Grek, the director of the Russia program at George Washington University, tells me. The US and other Western governments sanctioned Malofeyev as "closely linked" to the separatist rebellion in Ukraine. But despite the financial blow he suffered, Malofeyev sped ahead with his media venture. In 2015, Tsargrad launched with a Fox-like slogan: "We are not afraid to tell the truth." But Vasily Gatov, a Russia media analyst, has noted that Tsargrad's closest American parallel is not Fox News but Breitbart, which offers a similarly "hyper partisan" blend of news and opinion. To serve as chief editor, Malofeyev brought in Aleksandr Dugin, whose nationalistic writings enjoyed a following among Moscow's political elite, including military strategists. Dugin's 1997 book "The Foundations of Geopolitics," called for the restoration of a Moscow-run Orthodox Eurasian empire, in which Ukraine would be stripped of its sovereignty and become "a purely administrative sector of the Russian centralized state." The Russians, Dugin preached, were an "imperial people." The declared goal of Tsargrad — the name Slavs gave to the ancient Byzantine capital of Constantinople — was to "rebuild the empire." "Aleksandr Dugin is a great man, I should say he is truly brilliant," Malofeyev tells me. Dugin now serves as editor in chief of Katehon, a think tank Malofeyev established. The organization derives its name from a biblical term that Malofeyev translates as "the force that keeps the world from being consumed by the coming evil." Dugin's views, bankrolled by Malofeyev, have made him a darling of the American right. When Tucker Carlson visited Moscow last year for an exclusive interview with Putin, he also sat down with Dugin, whom he hailed as "a writer who writes about big ideas." In Dugin's telling, Putin was despised in the West because of his defense of "traditional values." Agreeing, Carlson bemoaned what he called the "very serious" antipathy directed at Putin. When Carlson posted a video of the interview on X, it garnered more than 8 million views. As Tsargrad has expanded its reach and influence, Malofeyev has outpaced even the Kremlin's ambitions for empire-building. In 2022, when Putin finally launched his all-out invasion of Ukraine, a headline on Tsargrad exulted: "The predictions are coming true: Ukraine is no more." Now, with Trump's return to power, Malofeyev sees an opportunity to end the war and reestablish Russia's reach into Europe. "There is only one single conversation that can take place to solve all of this," he told me. "A summit between President Putin and President Trump, where these two world leaders would resolve the whole set of issues, redrawing global security into a new multipolar framework. Ukraine is only a small part of this bigger picture." It didn't take long for Malofeyev's desire to begin to materialize: The two leaders had a phone call on February 12, during which Putin hinted at his desire to end what he views as NATO's expansionist agenda on the frontiers of Europe. A week later, Trump called Ukraine's president Volodymyr Zelensky a "dictator" and said he's planning to meet with Putin to negotiate an end to the war. Malofeyev has a grudging respect for Trump and Musk, whom he calls "transparent in their loyalty to post-liberalism, traditional values and anti-woke ideology." In the meantime, the message Tsargrad is delivering to Russians is that all is not well in the land Putin has ruled for so long. The platform often publishes the kind of dissent that the Kremlin normally moves to silence. "Society is tired of unpredictability and uncertainty," Yuri Pronko, a veteran Moscow journalist and one of Tsargrad's chief commentators, declared in a recent video. "Life in Russia has become very expensive, both literally and figuratively. Prices have skyrocketed, and if someone's salaries grow, they are immediately devalued by inflation and devaluation." I suggest to Pronko that his grim presentation doesn't sound like what the Kremlin wants to hear. "I am a journalist, not a propagandist," he tells me. "It may seem strange to you, but in Malofeyev's media I have more freedom than I previously had in other media." In Moscow, the platform is widely perceived as to the right of Putin. "A lot of people close to Tsargrad are radically opposed to Putin," says one insider. "For these people, Putin is not radical enough." Given Tsargrad's critical tone, why does the Kremlin — which has increasingly cracked down on naysayers — tolerate Malofeyev? It may suit Putin to remind Russians that he is not the most militant figure in Moscow. Malofeyev serves as a useful demonstration that "Putin is not the worst choice," says Dmitry Gudkov, a former member of Russia's parliament now living in exile. It's possible that Putin genuinely appreciates Malofeyev's fervent support for Russia's war in Ukraine, including medals for valor the oligarch hands out to Russian warriors. And it doesn't hurt that Malofeyev is married to Maria Lvova-Belova, who serves as Putin's commissioner for children's rights. Both Lvova-Belova and Putin have been indicted by the Hague on suspicion of "the war crime of unlawful deportation" of children from Ukraine to Russia. Malofeyev and his spouse, in any event, share with Putin the distinction of being supremely hated figures in Kyiv. A "nice family," is how Yulia Klymenko, a member of the Ukrainian parliament, sarcastically describes the Malofeyev pair to me in a text. "Ideological devil + convict witch. The only home for them is hell." Malofeyev's views on America come through loud and clear in his 20-page response to my questions. "It is proven fact that what you used to call 'Founding Fathers,' all of them were members of a secret, not at all transparent or democratically elected Masonic organization," he writes. "It was all a big show run by rich slave owners." He also rails against the "Deep State" that ran the Biden administration with "their perverted ideology (globalism, wokeism, cancel culture, encouragement of mass migration, gender issues) and live habits (pedophilia, child trafficking, and so on)." Still, he says, the future may offer hope: "I would like to agree with Elon Musk, who has recently said that we need to establish a direct democracy on Mars." His view of Trump's return to power contains a certain grudging respect. Trump and Musk, he says, are "transparent in their loyalty to post-liberalism, traditional values and anti-woke ideology." Given his cultural rhetoric, Malofeyev serves as a useful conduit to American conservatives, recasting Putin's government as a vital bastion of traditional values. Jackson Hinkle, a MAGA hard-liner whose podcast was banned by Twitch for propagating disinformation about the war in Ukraine, interviewed Malofeyev on his podcast after Trump's election, introducing him as a "Russian patriot" who had been "vilified by the US government." Hinkle assured listeners that Malofeyev — and by extension, Putin — deserved their admiration. "I don't consider him a villain," he said. It would be easy to dismiss Malofeyev's promotion of family values as a cynical ploy to win the support of Western conservatives. But everyone I spoke with about him — in Moscow, Washington, and Europe — views Malofeyev as sincere in his beliefs. Critics view him as a key cog in the culturally retrograde triumvirate of Trump, Putin, and Viktor Orbán, the prime minister of Hungary. "The Axis of Hate is back," Remy Bonny, a Belgium-based activist who advocates for LBTQ+ rights, tells me. In this transatlantic bloc, Bonny says, Malofeyev can be seen as an early and influential champion of Russia's emergence under Putin as a "pacesetter" for a global campaign against progressive values. Malofeyev, for this part, has a simple explanation for the latitude he is given to criticize Putin's policies. "I am an independent rich man," he told podcaster Hinkle last year. "I have nothing from the state. My media belongs to me, privately. My business is completely private." Just how much Malofeyev is worth isn't clear; the scuttlebutt in Moscow is that he has amassed a fresh pile of wealth in crypto. He won't disclose any information on his business affairs, he tells me, because that would make it easier for American prosecutors — "this gang of thieves" — to "steal my assets." The US government has seized some $5 million traced to a Malofeyev investment in a Texas bank, and the Justice Department has authorized transferring the funds to Ukraine to support war veterans. Still, outspoken as Malofeyev can be, he sometimes pulls his punches. A year ago, a Moscow court sentenced Igor Girkin to prison — the man Malofeyev once employed and praised as a holy warrior in the Donbas rebellion. Girkin's crime was to call out Putin as a "cowardly bum." Malofeyev apparently did nothing to help his former employee escape this fate. Girkin has said he had a falling out with Malofeyev on "how an honest Russian patriot should act." In Girkin's view, the oligarch's aspiration to fit Russia's government in a "patriotic-monarchist uniform" was "doomed to failure." One clue to Malofeyev's approach to Putin came in November, when he addressed a rally on National Unity Day, a Russian holiday. In the remarks he posted on his Telegram channel, he gave thanks to the local governor and bishop for participating in the celebration — but, tellingly, he made no mention of Russia's president. At 50, Malofeyev is not so much confronting the 72-year-old Putin as looking past him. When I asked him to describe his vision of a post-Putin Russia, Malofeyev said the Russian constitution should be changed to allow Putin to rule for life and to appoint a successor, just as in a monarchy. That step would fit with Malofeyev's cherished idea of a future for Russia constructed on a glorified idea of the past. It could also enable him to emerge as an influential player in the post-Putin era. I ask Merry, the former foreign service officer, who is likely to succeed Putin. Russia's next ruler, he says, will almost certainly be a "serious nationalist," he answers — and will likely come from the camp of those "frustrated with Putin's inability to get it done" in Ukraine. In other words, from the camp of which Malofeyev is a leader. As I pored over Malofeyev's responses to my questions, it seemed to me at times he was risking the Kremlin's ire. But his willingness to push back at Putin's war policy as soft and slow on Ukraine also reflects the frustration that many Russians feel over a bloody struggle that has ground on for more than a decade. At his year-end press conference in December, Putin was asked what he would do differently if he had the chance to go back to the beginning of the all-out invasion of Ukraine. "I would have thought the decision ought to have been taken earlier," he replied. Putin, in effect, has gravitated to the position long held by Malofayev. His life mission, to rebuild the empire, on track, the oligarch is proving an uncanny foreshadower of the direction of a turbulent Russia. Paul Starobin is the author of "Putin's Exiles: Their Fight for a Better Russia." Read the original article on Business Insider
