By Nina Bachkatov, with Romain Constantin
Despite commentators’ fondness for hyperbole, Russia’s parliamentary elections on September 18-20 are unlikely to generate much excitement. Barring a political earthquake, attention will focus, as usual, on turnout and on any further erosion in support for the ruling United Russia party — and what this may, or may not, reveal about the national mood after a series of unpopular measures and, above all, the “Special Military Operation” in Ukraine.
More significantly, the annexed Ukrainian territories have now been fully integrated into Russia’s electoral system, with new constituencies established in these regions. In doing so, Vladimir Putin has turned a domestic election into an international issue. Ukraine and most of the international community dismissed the 2014 referendums in Crimea and Donbas as political theatre. For the Kremlin, however, the inhabitants of these territories are now Russian citizens and voters entitled to protection.
It is telling that the recent large-scale bombing of Kyiv was officially presented as retaliation for a deadly Ukrainian attack in Luhansk rather than for strikes on Russia itself. In 2014, the annexation of Crimea and support for separatists in Donbas were justified as necessary to protect Russian-speaking Ukrainians allegedly threatened by Kyiv’s “neo-Nazis”. The message today, both to Russians and to residents of Donbas, is that Putin — and United Russia — remain committed to defending all their citizens.
Generational shifts
Young voters can barely remember the years 2011-12, when Russia last experienced something resembling a genuinely competitive parliamentary election, with candidates outside the system still able to campaign and win seats. Their grandparents’ generation that voted dutifully is gradually disappearing. Others retain more ambiguous memories, particularly those who joined the large demonstrations organised by liberal opposition groups against electoral fraud and against Putin’s return to the presidency. Over time, however, many became disillusioned — frustrated by opposition infighting, weary of United Russia, yet unable to identify a credible alternative. Political apathy followed.
Paradoxically, the Kremlin’s narrative on Ukraine can be traced back to those protests. At the time, the authorities concluded that the demonstrations had been orchestrated by the West as part of a strategy of regime change through a “colour revolution”, similar to those seen in Ukraine and Georgia. Hillary Clinton and her policy of “civic diplomacy” were portrayed as central to the effort. Domestic opponents were denounced as Western instruments and subsequently repressed, exiled or imprisoned.
By 2022, the invasion of Ukraine was presented as a response to another Western attempt to weaken Russia, this time through the “Kyiv regime”. According to the Kremlin’s narrative, Moscow had no choice but to launch a “special military operation”. Critics of the war were branded disloyal and again confronted with the choice between exile and silence.
Against this backdrop, the autumn parliamentary elections will provide a test of how an illiberal political system — one in which elections are held but genuine competition is absent — functions under wartime conditions, especially now that the conflict is affecting Russian civilian life more directly. The vote will therefore amount to more than a simple reflection of the balance of power within the Kremlin, as it largely has for the past decade.
A scripted ritual
Many Russian analysts believe the authorities have already settled on the desired outcome: turnout of around 55 per cent and roughly the same share of votes for United Russia. Thanks to Russia’s mixed electoral system — half the deputies elected in single-member constituencies on a first-past-the-post basis, the other half through proportional representation — the Kremlin should again secure a two-thirds majority in the Duma.
United Russia has introduced new candidates in regions hardest hit by economic difficulties and, more recently, Ukrainian drone attacks. It has also recruited war veterans, who are increasingly being presented as the backbone of a new patriotic elite intended to reshape Russia’s political structures.
These elections will also be the first without a recognisable opposition leader. Since the death of Alexei Navalny, the opposition movement that once pressured and irritated the system has effectively disappeared. Even Smart Voting — the tactical voting platform designed to rally support behind the strongest non-United Russia candidates — has been discontinued.
Yabloko, one of the oldest parties in Russia’s political landscape, has seen local representatives labelled “foreign agents”, fined or arrested for allegedly spreading extremism or discrediting the army. Although the party still intends to compete, its chances of returning deputies to parliament appear slim.
As a result, competition is now largely confined to the same five parties already represented in the Duma.
Polls suggest that support for United Russia, the dominant party for more than two decades, has fallen to around 28-39 per cent. The Communist party, led by Gennady Zyuganov since the 1990s, risks losing its traditional second-place position, with support slipping from 13 per cent to around 9-10 per cent. The Liberal Democratic party (LDPR), despite the death of its long-time leader Vladimir Zhirinovsky, is polling near 10 per cent, up from 7.5 per cent in 2021.
New People, a centrist party founded in 2020, is polling between 6 and 13 per cent and could challenge some of the older parties. A Just Russia, by contrast, is fighting for survival: failure to clear the 5 per cent threshold would leave it without parliamentary representation.
Voters’ sensitivities
Although the overall result appears predictable, the details may still produce surprises. Local dynamics can overturn expectations, with some constituencies proving more volatile than anticipated. There is also the question of how voters will respond to the economic consequences and human cost of the prolonged war in Ukraine. At the same time, the composition of parliament itself may change significantly, with war veterans potentially accounting for 30-40 per cent of deputies, according to some pro-Kremlin analysts.
Even if Russian voters exert less influence over political outcomes than voters in most democracies, the Kremlin cannot entirely ignore public sentiment. There are growing signs that Putin is less confident than before about ending the war on his own terms, while insiders describe unusual tension within his inner circle. Official communication about Ukrainian attacks on Russian territory has become increasingly inconsistent: some incidents are ignored, others mocked, others amplified.
In short, the Kremlin appears unusually sensitive to the recent course of the war and to its domestic political cost. This may not necessarily favour negotiations, since criticism of the war also comes from nationalist circles accusing the military — though not yet Putin himself — of failing to defend the country forcefully enough. But it may nevertheless force the authorities to moderate some of their more restrictive policies, whether on taxation or electoral controls, if they are to avoid greater discontent than anticipated in September.