No other party in post-Soviet Russian history has had as much expected of it, and as persistently, as the Communist Party of the Russian Federation (CPRF). These expectations, reflected in the title of the 1996 smear campaign newspaper “God Forbid” as well as in the recent retrospective film “Traitors” by Maria Pevchikh with its rather idealized account of the party, have fueled the belief that the socially populist trend associated with the CPRF could potentially disrupt the political and economic order established in the 1990s, still perceived as highly unjust by a significant part of the population.
The opportunist Communist Party leaders have never entirely extinguished this belief. Even now, when the CPRF’s loyalty to the Kremlin appears complete and its electoral success seems extremely unlikely, the authorities continue to counter it. Meanwhile, the right-liberal opposition wing accuses Navalny’s team of flirting with the “red-brown” factions, as if it were 1998 rather than 2024.
The Party of Contradictions
The Communist Party has always been a complex phenomenon, combining seemingly incompatible elements: anti-democratic loyalty and populism; retrograde views and flexibility; authoritarianism and pluralism; conformism and idealism.
“The CPRF’s policy aimed to embed itself within the state institutions created in 1993 (in contrast to Victor Anpilov’s populist rallies strategy). However, up until the early 2010s, it could not be considered a party within the system. Contacts between the CPRF leadership and the Kremlin were sporadic and focused on addressing issues of national significance,” notes a former staff member of the central apparatus of the Communist Party, who wished to talk anonymously.
“The CPRF has been Soviet-nostalgic but not Stalinist in the Western European sense. It did not spend time studying or debating what things went wrong in Soviet history and yet adapted to the new times rather quickly. It became the broadest party of general nostalgia for the USSR — not for Stalin, but rather for the Brezhnev era, with Leonid Gaidai’s comedy films and delicious ice cream. The Stalin of the CPRF is the Stalin of Brezhnev times’ cinema,” says Evgeniy Kazakov, historian of the left movement and author of the book Special Military Operation and Peace: Russian Leftists Against War (Spezialoperation und Frieden. Die russische Linke gegen den Krieg).
According to the researcher, the CPRF’s message to the traumatized Russian society in the era of primitive capital accumulation resembled the program of Konrad Adenauer, the first Chancellor of West Germany: social stability, rejection of radical reforms, and a certain “demonization” of the past, but also repeating it.
Had the party’s rhetoric been limited to this, it might be seen as a moderately conservative party in a social-democratic niche. However, the left-nationalist ideology of the 1990s always included a more dangerous, reactionary aspect, linking it to the mature Putinism of the “special military operation” era.
“In the 1990s, CPRF openly claimed that democracy was a lie, a scam, a conspiracy by corrupt elites that needed to be replaced with the ‘good’ ones. Such rhetoric could easily be voiced by any fascist. Indeed, the CPRF was supported by individuals advocating pogroms, violent riots, and mass repressions, such as [Kuban Governor Nikolay] Kondratenko and [General Albert] Makashov,” notes the historian.
This ideological affinity was a key factor in the rapprochement between the CPRF leadership and the Kremlin after Bolotnaya protests and the subsequent deadlock the party faced a decade later.
Alliance with Putinism
In the early 2010s, the Kremlin viewed the loyalty of “mainstream” opposition parties as a crucial prerequisite for political stability, in contrast to the democratic “street.” This loyalty was eagerly bought.
“After the major protests of 2012, we saw quotas allocated for mainstream opposition. For example, during the elections to the Moscow City Duma, the capital’s parliament, single-mandate constituency were designated for CPRF, Liberal Democratic Party of Russia (LDPR), and Just Russia candidates, with no candidate from United Russia,” recalled democratic socialist Mikhail Lobanov, who was nominated by CPRF for the parliamentary elections in 2021.
Conversely, the rise of liberal protest also caused concern among the communist leaders, whereas Putin’s rhetoric of stability, patriotism, and traditional values allowed them to claim that the government was “implementing our program.”
“The full range of CPRF’s demands from the 1990s has been largely implemented by the authorities. This includes strengthening the state system in Russia, confronting the West, reviving the defense industry, and monopolizing the economy under direct or indirect state control. Finally, Crimea definitively ‘married’ the authorities with the [national-patriotic] opposition,” notes a former party member.
However, as this “marriage” continued, it became increasingly unequal. After the unpopular retirement age increase in 2018, which led to a series of defeats for United Russia in gubernatorial elections, even the mainstream opposition began to be seen as a potential threat to stability. The Presidential Administration started to stifle parliamentary parties, fearing protest voting. At the same time, CPRF candidates did not face any severe penalties at the time for actively running their campaigns.
As a result, the “left” wing within the CPRF grew stronger. Its cautious flirtation with the “streets” and even Navalny’s movement not only brought the party electoral benefits but also began to transform it from within. A new generation of activists with diverse views — from left-liberals to anti-vaxxers — joined the party. They were attracted not so much by nostalgia for the USSR as by the opportunity to legally engage in opposition politics.
Rise and Fall
It’s hard to believe that only three years ago, CPRF was regaining popularity and engaged in opposition politics. Liberal media and expert centers labeled it as the most dangerous United Russia opponent and a party of public distrust, aggregating protest votes regardless of ideological leanings.
By the end of 2021, support for the Communist Party was at 20% according to Russian Public Opinion Research Center (VCIOM). Independent estimates put it at 25% of voters. The party’s representation in the Duma increased from 42 to 57 members following the parliamentary elections.
However, the invasion of Ukraine by Russian troops transformed the once “party of distrust” into yet another party of war, obediently following the official propaganda course. The leadership’s attitude toward the so-called “special military operation” is aptly summarized by a quote from Gennady Zyuganov, frequently cited by other party leaders: “We need a victory… As defeat means death for the ruling party. Defeat means going underground for the CPRF. Defeat means collapse of the state and the country. This is exactly what the Anglo-Saxons want.”
By openly aligning its fate with that of the regime, the CPRF leadership has been demonstrating unprecedented loyalty. Zyuganov’s statements during the times of “special military operation” display a level of servility surpassing everything he had said before. He scolds Putin for appearing in public without a hat, then reminisces about how he once spent “an entire day” advising him on election issues; as a matter of fact, this was at Stalin’s former dacha. At times, he obligingly asserts that the dictator would not have benefited from Navalny’s death. The Kremlin has honored Zyuganov, who recently celebrated his 80th birthday, with honors that seem more like mockery. For instance, the Central Election Commission recently awarded the aging politician a medal “for contributing to the organization of elections.”
Keeping up with the times, the Communists have virtually stopped any protest activities. These have been largely replaced by car rallies in support of the “heroes of the special military operation” and other pro-war volunteer activities. The only protest campaign initiated by the CPRF this year was against the opening of a branch of the Yeltsin Center in Moscow. The party spokespeople labeled it the “worship place of Russophobes and foreign agents.”
As a result, the party’s ratings and electoral results are declining. According to VCIOM, the share of Russians willing to vote for the CPRF now stands at the historically low 10%. In last year’s elections, the party fell from a symbolically significant second place to third in several regions. The trend persisted this year.
In 2019, “smart voting” secured 13 out of 45 seats in the Moscow City Duma for the left-wing parties, but this September they have won only three. CPRF Deputy Chairman Yuriy Afonin attributed this to a rally-around-the-flag effect of the war. However, it would be more accurate to say that the CPRF itself has rallied around the government, thereby alienating protest voters. As a result, both the CPRF and, reportedly, the Kremlin are facing questions about the very purpose of a party that is rapidly losing both supporters and its identity.
The Party of Self-Preservation
The liaison between the Communist Party and the Kremlin and regional elites has solidified; the space for permissible criticism has been reduced to the bare minimum, and the treatment of party members by officials has become increasingly humiliating. “In the past, Communist Party leadership consulted with the Presidential Administration only on general matters. Today, even regional and sometimes municipal-level politicians are subject to approval by the Kremlin. Any deviation from the approved list results in penalties. Such was the exclusion of CPRF candidate Roman Kononenko from the current gubernatorial elections in St. Petersburg,” notes a former party member.
“This trend towards tighter control has affected not only us but also Yabloko, Just Russia, and independent candidates. However, there were specific, hostile actions against the CPRF. For instance, by removing Roman Kononenko from the elections, the Saint Petersburg City Administration has put forward Malinkovich from the Communists of Russia [spoiler party against CPRF], an outright clown, who put forward absurd proposals. This was an attempt to discredit the CPRF and communists in general. They could at least have chosen someone from Rodina as a spoiler!” complains a participant in the municipal election campaign in St. Petersburg, who wished to remain anonymous.
According to both sources, under the current conditions, the Communists are consciously distancing themselves from the federal agenda and focusing on local voter issues. A former party official limited the currently permitted activities to “environmental protection, contacts with initiative groups, small businesses, shareholders and borrowers, and sometimes the mobilized soldiers’ wives.”
This political “restraint” is clearly motivated by self-preservation. However, it remains uncertain how long the party can survive when it is effectively deprived of the ability to engage in politics. Recently, Meduza reported that the authorities were considering replacing the CPRF with a new political technology project to eliminate even the potential for dissent by the party. Even if this scenario does not come to pass, the Communist Party risks becoming a shadow of its former self.
What does the silent opposition hope for?
In the early weeks following the invasion, CPRF’s members — numerous and diverse — publicly criticized the war and the party’s pro-war stance. However, these dissenting voices quickly fell silent, giving way to a form of inner emigration.
The party bureaucracy didn’t so much stifle the protest as it convinced dissenters of its futility. Only the most prominent opponents of the “special military operation,” such as Yevgeniy Stupin, the Moscow City Duma deputy, were expelled from the party, and even that happened gradually. Many dissenters left voluntarily. However, according to sources of Posle, there are still many dissenting voices within the party. “Their strategy for adaptation is staying passive… They understand that now is not the time to resist. They need to wait for the hard times, and that’s exactly what they are doing,” says Stupin.
“I stay in touch with people from the CPRF’s youth organizations. There are many anti-war individuals in them: from those who do not understand the goals and objectives of the ‘special military operation’ or feel disappointed with its pace, to those who see the party’s inconsistencies with Marxism… They hope to see a warming of the political climate so that they can reshape the CPRF,” explains a former party member.
The chances of these hopes being realized are slim, but they are still there. Even in its current diminished and weakened state, the Communist Party still represents a potential threat to the regime, believes historian Yevgeniy Kazakov. “No matter how many controlled parties you build into the system, there’s always a chance for the ‘awakening of dormant institutions.’ People may be treated as puppets, but at some point, if the system weakens, they might gain independence… Some people in the CPRF keep the party strongly tied to Putin, but some dream of reaching the day when Putin can no longer govern the state… For the latter, the main thing is to preserve their political capital and not let their organization dissolve,” he asserts.
Its moderate stance and ability to negotiate might make the Communist Party a suitable candidate to mediate between the liberal opposition and the Russian elite if such negotiations were once to begin, suggests the researcher. Stupin shares a similar view, “The CPRF might have a future if the regime changes gradually. If someone like [Sergei] Sobyanin [Moscow mayor] replaced Putin and began a slow democratization process under Western pressure… In that case, the CPRF could play a significant role on the political stage, but only if its leadership and rhetoric changed.” The politician adds, however, that if a “revolutionary” or “Prigozhin-like” scenario of power transition occurs, the CPRF stands no chance of survival as it would simply become irrelevant.
