How much fascism is there in Putin’s regime? 

Russian President Vladimir Putin broadcasted on a a large screen in St. Petersburg on June 9th, 2024. Photo: Alexey Smyshlyaev / Shutterstock

The label “fascism” has become a largely meaningless term of political polemic. Soviet propaganda played a significant role in this, applying it to every opponent – from social democracy to Zionism. The Putin regime is continuing this tradition with its attack on Ukraine. Is it therefore merely a reversal of the tables when this accusation is levelled against Putin’s own policies? Scholars have debated this for years. Even critics of Russia’s violence have questioned using the “F-word”.

This anthology, with twelve contributions by researchers from the UK, Poland, the US, Germany, and Ukraine, addresses this discussion. The title—not “Russian Fascism,” but Russia and Modern Fascism—suggests a certain caution. Similarly, the front cover picture is a carefully composed collage: Alongside Putin’s portrait, neither Hitler nor Mussolini are depicted but instead Stalin; no swastika or bundle of rods but hammer and sickle. We do not see grimly marching black or brown shirts but young people, primarily athletic women, walking in casual white clothing.

The volume appears in a book series in which – despite its focus on (post-)Soviet topics – a seminal essay collection on generic fascism was already published, under the title Fascism Past and Present, West and East: An International Debate on Concepts and Cases in the Comparative Study of the Extreme Right, in 2006. That volume’s focus was on the concept, developed by Roger D. Griffin of Oxford Brookes University, of fascism as “palingenetic ultra-nationalism,” and informed, at the time, by – among other factors – the rise of Aleksandr Dugin

The introduction to Russia and Modern Fascism by the two editors Ian Garner from the Pilecki Institute, Warsaw and Taras Kuzio from Kyiv-Mohyla Academy takes up this approach. For them, the rebirth of a degenerate nation through violent redemption since 2020 is a modern form of fascism in Russia. In their own substantive contribution to the volume, they show how the merciless destruction of Mariupol in 2022 illustrates the “cycle of destruction and rejuvenation”, within a perpetual war. This interpretation of violence as an example of a fascist projection of death and rebirth is understandable. But is the destruction of cities in Chechnya or Syria by Russian troops also an expression of “rejuvenation”? And does the planned colonization of Mariupol by hundreds of thousands of Russian settlers mean a “rebirth” of Russia itself?

The only attempt to approach the question systematically using clear categories comes from Alexander J. Motyl from Rutgers University. Authoritarian dictatorship, mass support, personality cult, and a personal leadership style are, according to Motyl, the decisive factors of fascist rule. In a typology of democracy versus semi- and fully authoritarian rule including fascism, Putin fulfils all the criteria of authoritarianism. Furthermore, he is a personalistic dictator with mass support. This makes, in Motyl’s view, Putin’s authoritarianism a type of fascism.

In his contribution, the editor of the book series, Andreas Umland from the Swedish Institute of International Affairs, places great emphasis on the palingenesis formula, which Motyl rejects as too general. But even the Putin administration’s promotion of fascist-like thinking, especially that of Ivan Il’in and the rise of Dugin do not result in full fascism, but rather in “quasi-fascism.” Umland is correct in his observation when he emphasizes that the full-scale attack on Ukraine is due not only to a shift toward ultra-nationalist revolutionary fervour, but also to cynical power politics and misjudgement.

Joanna Getka from the University of Warsaw and Jolanta Darczewska (1950-2025, Center for Eastern Studies, Warsaw) argue that there is a marginal Russian fascist tradition, both in the Russian emigration and within the country after the end of the USSR. As evidence of a gradual fascistization (i.e., not a fully developed fascism), they cite the notorious pamphlets on the “denazification” of Ukraine—a fascism with an anti-fascist mask, but also only a caricature of fascism, albeit a dangerous and aggressive one. Similarly, in his article on the Russian Orthodox Church and its significance in today’s Russian “imperism,” Michał Wawrzonek of the Ignatianum University in Kraków oscillates between the assertion of contemporary fascism and the more cautious statement that pan-Russian ideology is “probably” comparable to the Italian Fascism and German Nazism of the interwar period

In his contribution, Andreas Heinemann-Grüder from the University of Bonn highlights the “holy war” motif in anti-Ukrainian propaganda and concludes that it is not a repetition of totalitarian (including fascist) approaches from the 20th century, but rather the expression of a “religious-fundamentalist” state ideology. The narrative of defending Russia in the tradition of World War II plays a significant role here, and in a “neo-totalitarian” society, this is enforced as the only permissible interpretation. More important than a consistent qualification is the diagnosis that these quasi-religious discourses amount to a justification, even a demand, for a state of constant war.

This can also be seen in the efforts made under Putin in the education system, which Maria Domańska from the Center for Eastern Studies in Warsaw describes as “fascist education” in a regime that she also calls “neo-totalitarian.” The cult of militarism since 2008 has propagated historical myths, including the demonization of Ukrainians as “Nazis.” In fact, the shift toward a “Nazi” rather than a primarily “fascist” enemy of Russia is a linguistic innovation that deserves closer examination. Has the term “neo-Nazi” for designating enemies possibly replaced that of “fascist” because too many supporters in Russia’s own camp openly adhere to fascist or fascism-related concepts?

The book’s chapter certainly cannot fully illuminate how effective the propaganda is. A 2024 study cited by Domańska suggests war rhetoric is unpopular with the younger population. What Jaroslava Barbieri (Chatham House, London) has gathered about the indoctrination of young people in the Russian-occupied territories is disturbing. Here, intimidation, forced assimilation, and the use of teachers from Russia are employed; Ukrainian online education reaches only a minority.

Paul D’Anieri from the University of California concludes that the book will not end the debate on the application to Russia of the concept of fascism. Yet, such a label, which considers the cult of violence, war, and masculinity, is necessary because, unlike in 2015, Russia is no longer “just another authoritarian state”. In sum, the book raises more questions than it answers. Again and again, assessments flash up that suggest other classifications. Even Motyl, the most vocal proponent of the fascism label, at one point refers to Putin as a new “tsar”

The editors diagnose in their chapter on Mariupol that a key component of imperial nationalism, as under the tsars and “white” émigrés, is the denial of the Ukrainian nation. But how does this fit in with their report that the city museum in Mariupol is to be named after Stalin’s close confidant Andrei Zhdanov? The book does not discuss how much “fascism” was already present in Stalinism – which some fascist leaders themselves recognized at times. On the surface, the label of Stalinism may seem contradictory, given that today’s terror is not directed against the country’s own people, as it was during the height of Stalinism. But this can also be seen differently: Does Putin not consider the Ukrainians, whom he is waging war against for their “betrayal,” to be his legitimate subjects? And would a new form of fascism not imply a stronger hierarchization of ethnic groups and their “natural” inequality than current Russian propaganda demands?

The Ukrainians, who are the target of hostility, are not classified as fundamentally different but as equal (in value) to the Russians. The editors explain how Russian media portrays Ukrainians as “confused” about their independence by western propaganda. The propagated homophobia, in turn, appears “fascist”, unlike the almost complete absence of antisemitic propaganda; neither topic is discussed in the book. And the invocation of the unity of the peoples of the Russian Federation – which, as the editors describe, is incorporated into monuments during the reconstruction of Mariupol – is not typical of fascism.

Yet, this does not diminish the value of the book. The mentioned contradictions are unavoidable and reflect the openness of an ongoing search. It is not the answers that are most important, but the questions. The discussion of terms and categories ultimately serves to sharpen observations and assessments. Andreas Umland also emphasizes in his contribution that such attributions cannot be irrefutably true or false but are always based on convention. In addition to scholarly classification, there is also a subjective dimension, especially so in the specific perception of the people of Ukraine. Provoking counterarguments is not a weakness, but a strength. In this way, the book can spark many fruitful discussions. Anyone who wants to think more deeply about “Putinism” should engage with the volume’s contributions.

Russia and Modern Fascism: New Perspectives on the Kremlin’s War Against Ukraine. Edited by Ian Garner and Taras Kuzio. With a foreword by David Satter (Soviet and Post-Soviet Politics and Society, Vol. 292). Stuttgart: ibidem-Verlag, 2025. Also distributed by Columbia University Press.

Dr. Matthias Vetter studied Medieval, Modern, and East European History as well as Slavic Languages at the University of Heidelberg. He worked at, among others, the East-West European Cultural and Study Center “Palais Jalta” in Frankfurt-am-Main, for an EU development project in St. Petersburg, and as a consultant for banks in Frankfurt-am-Main. Vetter is author of several books on antisemitism in the Soviet Union and the war in Yugoslavia.

Book review, fascism, Putinism, Russia, Russian studies