Sanctions often suffer from a pronounced level of arbitrariness. Many of these provisions allow states to unilaterally determine what constitutes a violation and assign appropriate legal qualifications. Disturbingly, this often circumvents established judicial mechanisms. For instance, the European Court of Human Rights has issued numerous judgments against Russia—especially concerning the Ukrainian conflict—which remain largely unenforced.

An absence of transparent criteria for the initiation or termination of sanctions engenders unpredictability for those who might be subjected to such measures, as well as uncertainty regarding the international community's expectations. Furthermore, piecemeal implementation of these sanctions often lacks proper coordination.

The rationale for implementing sanctions is frequently nebulous, particularly concerning the relationship bet-ween the sanctioned entities and Russian policies. This allows for arbitrary imposition, renewal, or revocation of sanctions, often unchec-ked by judicial or legislative oversight.

The scope and scale of these measures often raise ethical questions, especially in the realm of human rights and property ownership.

The sanctions landscape often unintentionally bestows benefits upon actors who are not even participants in the sanctions regime.

Over time, the effects of sanctions can morph unpredictably. For example, asset freezes intended as temporary measures can metamorphose into de facto expropriation.

As a countermeasure to the invasive character of sanctions, the defense rights can be substantially reduced in practice. Legal assistance for those under sanctions may be limited to the essentials. While there are exceptions, legal representatives often decline even exempted services to err on the side of caution. This misaligns the system, as one of its protective measures proves to be hollow.

Against the backdrop of a classical legal system, which predominantly operates through judicial proceedings, the political decision-making process associated with sanctions is notably more arbitrary. Sanctions effectively act as a form of quasi-criminal liability without due process ​​or the application of criminal-law guarantees, such as the presumption of innocence, and standards of proof and evidence. Moreover, within the European Union, the influence of individual states raises concerns about exceptions and priorities in sanctions policy.

Despite advocating for sanctions, many states are reticent to endorse initiatives targeting Russian and Belarusian officials for accountability measures, such as for crimes of aggression. This creates an ironic lacuna in accountability, exempting those most responsible while targeting secondary actors.

In the realm of international law, there exists a disparate logic: those in positions of significant influence within a state can be held liable for crimes of aggression. In the sphere of sanctions, however, senior officials often remain untouchable, leaving lesser actors vulnerable. This discrepancy manifests as a gap in accountability, further muddled by the inconsistent positions of states on international criminal justice.

Consequently, this complex landscape of challenges is easily exploited by propaganda, which portrays sanctions as an ineffectual tool of a geopolitical strategy aimed at containing Russia. This erodes trust in international institutions and norms, thereby diminishing the sanctions' effectiveness and credibility.

Predominantly, the corporations that chose to exit Russia were those whose core operations were directly targeted by sanctions. This includes airlines, courier services, payment processors, tech giants, consultancies, and those involved in natural resources and geology. Service sector companies, sensing a potential detriment to their international reputations, also decided to withdraw. Notable names from the dining industry include McDonald's, Starbucks, KFC, and PizzaHut⁸⁵. Virtually all globally recognized hotel brands - such as Marriott, Hilton, Hyatt, IHG, Accor, Rixos, and Mercure, among others - also departed⁸⁶. Additionally, several major European and American banking institutions, including Deutsche Bank, Société Générale, Citi, and HSBC exited, as did the corporate banking arms of Mercedes-Benz and Volkswagen, which were initially established in Russia to facilitate vehicle sales financing⁸⁷.

Among those who opted to stay in Russia, two primary categories emerge. The first encapsulates entities with significant strategic stakes in the country or those essentially "anchored" due to extensive preceding investments. BP serves as an illustrative example here, given its involvement with Rosneft. Despite multiple indications of its intent to divest, the British firm remains active in Russia⁸⁸. Similarly, Total Energies, having channeled substantial funds into LNG ventures, illustrates this dynamic. Although the company officially withdrew its delegates from the managerial committees of collabo-rative projects and recognized losses on its Novatek⁸⁹ investments, its on-ground operations in Russia persist. Another emblematic instance is Raiffeisenbank, which, as the preeminent Western bank left in Russia, sees its operations in the nation account for a whopping half of the entire Raiffeisen group's net earnings⁹⁰.

The secondary cohort comprises firms recognizing that the exit, whether total or partial, of their rivals has paved the way for newfound opportunities. For instance, while IKEA made the choice to leave Russia, competitors like Germany's Metro and France's Auchan chose to remain. Additionally, a multitude of entities specializing in food production (such as BAT and Japan Tobacco, Hochland, Mondelez, Mars) and pharmaceuticals (like Procter & Gamble, Pfizer, Bayer) maintained their presence⁹¹. It seems the rationale behind such decisions stems from the fact that the distribution of these specific products remains largely unaffected by sanctions, allowing these corporations to sustain their operations in Russia. Moreover, there's substantial evidence suggesting that even globally recognized brands like McDonald’s, upon transferring their ventures to Russian businesspersons, incorporated a provision that reserved their right to repurchase their assets⁹². This clause would come into play should the conflict prove ephemeral and the imposed sanctions on Russia be subsequently revoked in the near future.

The issue of personal sanctions, often the most publicly visible and debated aspect of a sanctions regime, frequently becomes the focal point of legal disputes, journalistic scrutiny and lobbying efforts. These sanctions can be wielded by various parties for purposes other than their intended political or security objectives, such as settling internal economic disputes or combating political opposition.

It is in this context that the authors of this report wish to underscore that the observations regarding personal sanctions are consistent with the overarching thesis of this analysis: that a transparent, lawful, and logically coherent sanctions policy is likely to be more effective in countering aggressive behaviors than broad-brush approaches that lack clear rationale and are poorly understood by affected communities, including the Russian populace. Specific cases highlighted in this section are not intended to signal either endorsement or critique of any particular sanctions decision; rather, they serve to illustrate the complexities, inconsistencies, or anomalies often inherent in the implementation of personal sanctions.

In sum, while sanctions targeting specific activities with the potential for restricting or even damaging them may be effective, the application of personal sanctions raises a series of legal and ethical questions. Most notably, personal sanctions often violate the principle of non-retroactivity, a cornerstone of justice that prohibits punitive measures for actions undertaken prior to the establishment of the law which later made them as illegal.

For example, sanctions levied against Russian oligarchs for attending a meeting with President Putin on February 24, 2022 raise questions concerning fairness and legality of such punitive actions. These individuals were sanctioned because their mere attendance was interpreted as supporting actions that undermine the territorial integrity and sovereignty of Ukraine¹¹¹. However, this interpretation retroactively criminalizes actions – such as meeting with the President or being a wealthy businessman—that were not identified as wrongdoings prior to the announcement of sanctions between March 9¹¹² and April 8, 2022.

Thus, this approach undermines the legal principles that should ideally govern the application of sanctions and risks eroding the credibility and effectiveness of such policy measures.

The practice of implementing personal sanctions that target broad groups, such as the "Putin's list", by OFAC in 2018 that included all 97 Russian billionaires¹¹³ from the Forbes list challenges the principle of individual responsibility that is a cornerstone of Western legal systems. This wholesale categorization veers into collective punishment, a tactic that has questionable ethical and legal standing.

Comparing this tactic to historical examples like Nazi Germany's persecution of Jews or the Communist-era "class struggle" highlights severe ethical and ideological problems embedded in such approaches. While these are extreme examples, the point stands that casting wide nets of punishment based on group identity contradicts principles of individual justice and opens the door to abuses and miscarriages of justice¹¹⁴.

Imposing sanctions on family members of individuals already under sanctions magnifies existing ethical concerns. Such punitive actions risk being viewed as guilt by association—a principle diametrically opposed to the foundational concepts of individual accountability, due process, human rights, and the presumption of innocence. The EU Court, rooted in these principles, has established a well-defined jurisprudential stance on this issue, declaring that designations based solely on familial ties violate Articles 75 and 215 TFEU. This position began with the Tay Za v Council judgment in 2012 and has been reinforced in subsequent verdicts, including those related to Russia. Penalizing someone solely for their familial connections, something they cannot change or influence, contradicts the essence of human rights. Thus, any justification for sanctions based on family ties demands rigorous examination.

The current sanction regime's one-size-fits-all approach indeed appears to be flawed. Treating all individuals implicated by sanctions as if they were equally culpable undermines the nuanced nature of justice. The broad-brush approach, where the likes of military commanders directly involved in conflicts are subject to the same restrictions as businessmen who have no such involvement, fails to honor the principle that punishment should be proportional to the crime committed. A diversified approach to personal sanctions, aligned with the role and involvement of each individual, would not only be fairer but also potentially more effective in achieving the intended outcomes.

Additionally, the objectives behind the imposition of personal sanctions remain unclear, further muddying their efficacy and ethical standing. In traditional punitive law sanctions or punishments have a clearly defined purpose, whether deterrence, retribution, or rehabilitation. But personal sanctions seem to have a murky, unstated goal of perhaps influencing the behavior of an entire elite class, not just the individuals targeted. This strategy could be likened to hostage-taking, where the fate of one or a few individuals is used as leverage to influence a larger group.

Furthermore, the change in terminology from "oligarch" to "influential Russian businessman"¹¹⁵ suggests that the authorities recognize the impact these individuals have beyond their personal deeds. The idea seems to be to exert pressure on these influential figures in hopes of affecting broader political and economic policies. Yet, this strategy runs the risk of unintended consequences, including the hardening of attitudes against Western policies and institutions. In summary, current sanction practices raise multiple concerns related to proportionality, ethicality, and the ambiguity of objectives. For them to be a useful and just tool these issues must be carefully considered and addressed.

Analysis indicates that sanctions aimed at individuals, with the exception of state leaders from countries engaged in aggressive behavior, constitute extrajudicial actions initiated by the executive branches of certain states. These actions are often implemented with the objective of influencing the political course of a targeted nation. Notably, the criteria for selecting these individuals for sanctions may not always be linked to specific actions or deeds but rather to their perceived ability to affect their country's power structure, or their public recognizability, which may make sanctions more visible to the sanctioning government’s electorate, even as the individuals actually responsible for the targeted policies remain unscathed and in the shadows.

Such extrajudicial measures pose significant challenges to societies founded on the rule of law, as they may not be as effective as conventional punitive actions. In contrast, criminal proceedings aimed at persons involved in committing international crimes, including crime of aggression, are often more equitable and effective. Conducted even in absentia, these proceedings uphold principles of individual responsibility and proportionality in punishment.

It might be prudent to consider historical precedence set by international tribunals, ranging from the Nuremberg and Tokyo trials to contemporary cases in international courts. These precedents indicate that more nuanced approaches, such as legal proceedings, could result in the acquittal of individuals not directly implicated in crimes, while effectively penalizing those who are. Therefore, it could be advisable for policymakers to examine the efficacy and ethical implications of sanctions in comparison to established judicial procedures.

Our exploration of delisting procedures wouldn't be comprehensive without delving into the myriad complexities surrounding evidence that justifies individual sanctions. Ideally, there should be concrete evidence pointing to an individual's complicity in the targeted behavior. Yet, not all authorities imposing sanctions readily disclose such evidence—even in judicial settings—to the affected parties. In instances where they opt for transparency by sharing evidence files, these documents often fall short in credibility.

European case law reveals a recurring pattern: the “evidence packs” or “working papers” that the EU Council relies on, sourced from the European External Action Service, predominantly consist of publicly accessible online news articles. This approach offers the EU a twofold advantage: it avoids the need for classified documentation that might raise security concerns, but, more perturbingly, it often leads to reliance on questionable sources¹¹⁶. A hasty assemblage of outdated, unverified, or sensationalized content—sometimes hailing from dubious online tabloids or even anonymous blogs—finds its way into these crucial dossiers. The mass of individuals subject to sanctions is vast, leading to inevitable oversights in evidence collection. A stark testament to this flawed system is the Council's misguided decision to sanction Grigory Berezkin based on a piece co-authored by an artificial intelligence bot¹¹⁷.

The subject merits specific attention as it highlights a critical shortcoming in the policy of sanctions, with considerable practical implications. In 2014 Western nations imposed sanctions on approximately 150 Russian individuals for their roles in the annexation of Crimea and the conflict in Donbas¹¹⁸. Notably, these measures were highly selective, focusing primarily on officials and military personnel directly involved in the conflict, along with a limited number of business figures involved in projects within the occupied territories, such as Boris and Arkady Rotenberg¹¹⁹.

During this period the selective nature of the sanctions led members of the Russian elite to seek ways to circumvent these punitive measures, effectively causing the sanctions to function as a deterrent. This historical context could offer valuable insights for policymakers in refining the criteria and scope of sanctions to improve their efficacy and precision.

Beginning in 2022, sanctions imposed on Russian entities and individuals have broadened significantly in scope, encompassing diverse groups including approximately 40 military commanders, 180 bureaucrats, 700 elected officials such as deputies and senators, 420 business leaders, and 75 individuals involved in scientific, media, and propaganda activities¹²⁰. These constituencies represent core pillars of the current Russian administration. When subjected to uniform sanctions, these disparate groups may find a strong incentive for consolidation behind the leadership, a phenomenon that had been anticipated prior to the implementation of these measures¹²¹.

Sanctions often escalate following significant events, such as newly documented military offenses or activities targeting Russian dissidents. This escalation tends to reverberate across all targeted groups, regardless of their recent actions or lack thereof. Recent developments have also seen sanctions extend to more nebulous entities, like the Valdai Club or the Higher School of Economics¹²², organizations with which thousands are affiliated in some capacity. A discussion of their connivance or inaction in allowing Putin to start the war in one way or another is certainly legitimate, but whether they should be subject to the same type of sanctions or restrictions as other categories of individuals is questionable.

This development raises questions about the efficacy and strategic implications of such broad-based sanctioning policies and suggests that a more nuanced approach may be warranted to avoid unintended consequences, such as the consolidation of political power.

The report "Moscow's Gold: Russian Corruption in the UK", prepared by the UK House of Commons, states directly “... You have to look at the Russian oligarchs as a class. No matter how different they seem to you—one owns a football club, another donated money to Oxford for a school of government, another sat in a Russian jail for six years under communism, another was a civil servant—they all have very particular things in common. They can all be measured with the same yardstick …”

One can observe instances of inexplicable selectivity in the imposition of sanctions against Russian policymakers, public figures, and business leaders. While a comprehensive analysis would necessitate a dedicated report, a few examples may serve to illustrate this phenomenon.

Mikhail Prokhorov, a businessman who was once the richest in Russia. Despite his long-time ownership of key Russian enterprises and his active role in legitimizing Vladimir Putin's return to the Kremlin—having run for President in 2012 with Kremlin backing and advisors from Sergey Kirienko's team—Prokhorov has not been included in any sanctions lists. Of course, Mr. Prokhorov drew conclusions from his complicity in 2012, and from 2014 he sold off his assets in Russia, left all public and official positions, and met 2022 abroad without supporting Russian aggression with a single action or word.

According to some of the authors of the report, this is already a sufficient minimum to avoid sanctions, which is what happened in Prokhorov's case but did not happen in dozens of other similar cases, like Farkhad Akhmedov, who divested from his main Russian assets approximately a decade prior and mostly resides in Azerbaijan, yet was included in both EU and UK sanctions lists. Akhmedov was only recently¹²³ removed from these lists following a protracted legal battle with European authorities.

Additionally, entrepreneurs such as Oleg Tinkov was been included in the sanctions lists, despite public condemnations of the conflict and significant financial losses. Tinkov was forced to sell his bank, which was once the second-largest in Russia by market capitalization, for a fraction of its worth¹²⁴.

These examples suggest a degree of variability and apparent inconsistency in the application of sanctions, which may well benefit from further scrutiny to ensure alignment with the intended objectives and equitable treatment of the individuals concerned.

The existing sanctions policy exhibits a range of shortcomings that manifest themselves in both over-inclusion and under-inclusion of targeted individuals. On the one hand, there are cases where individuals have been placed on sanctions lists despite having exhibited behavior that might be considered to be in opposition to contentious activities. For instance, already mentioned Oleg Tinkov and others have expressed critical positions or even resigned from their corporate roles following the onset of hostilities, yet they were still subjected to sanctions.

On the other hand, there are instances where individuals who might reasonably be considered as supportive of contentious activities have either not been sanctioned or have had sanctions lifted. An example of this is Grigory Berezkin who was recently cleared of EU sanctions despite his ownership of several major Russian media outlets known for disseminating propaganda, such as Komsomolskaya Pravda daily.

Alisher Usmanov, owner of the Kommersant Publishing House, may not enjoy complete editorial freedom, but even by American standards, his outlet stands apart from the likes of "Komsomolskaya Pravda". As noted, "Treasury officials were hesitant about impacting a newspaper, considering it one of Russia’s few remaining independent publishing entities.125" Despite this, Usmanov finds himself under sanctions. In contrast, Yuri Milner, who channelled Usmanov's investments into American tech enterprises, remains a venerated figure in Silicon Valley. He's also the founder of the Breakthrough Prize, an accolade that eminent Western scientists readily accept. Yuri Milner is also known as a co-founder of Mail.ru and Vkontakte, large Russian internet social networking and media companies, which gradually came under the state's unofficial control and censorship. Meanwhile, Arkady Volozh, the founder of its main competitor, Yandex, who moved from Russia to Israel years ago and condemned the military aggression, still remains under sanctions.

Another example is the sweeping and, in our view, inaccurate generalizations one finds in the House of Commons report (mentioned above). In fact, the actual situations of the individuals pointedly hinted at by the report's author or authors vary: Roman Abramovich is under sanctions and was forced to sell the football club his owned at a loss, while Leonard Blavatnik continues to see his name not just on an Oxford college, but also on the Tate Museum. He remains unaffected by sanctions.

Such inconsistencies indicate areas for potential improvement in the sanctions policy to ensure that it effectively serves its intended objectives while maintaining fairness and proportionality.

In conclusion, it is noteworthy to mention that the motivations behind some sanctions appear to be driven by commercial interests rather than principled policy considerations. Ukraine serves as a compelling example in this regard. In contrast to freezing assets, the Ukrainian government has opted to confiscate and transfer to the state the property of sanctioned Russian businessmen. Cases in point include the seizing of Sense Bank, previously owned by Luxembourg-based ABHH¹²⁶, and the assets of Russia's LSR¹²⁷ Group.

Moreover, the Ukrainian government's sanction lists include individuals who have served in Russian state institutions, regardless of their individual actions or declared positions on controversial issues. An illustrative example is Sergei Petrov, a former State Duma deputy. In 2014 Petrov was one of only three deputies to abstain from voting on the annexation of Crimea. Despite this, he has been subjected to sanctions solely by the Ukrainian government.

Unfortunately, the Ukrainian position on sanctions, due to the obvious sentiments in society, is populist, often tactical in nature, including instances, as in many developing post-Soviet countries, not free from biased, even corrupt, influence. Given these observations, it could be advisable for Western powers to exercise caution when considering Ukraine's recommendations in shaping the sanctions policy. A thorough and nuanced analysis is imperative to ensure that sanctions serve their intended objectives, are seen as just and fair, and do not generate unintended negative consequences.

One of the perhaps unintended (but yet predictable) consequences of personal sanctions has been the coalescence of various Russian elite groups around the Kremlin. Previously segmented into distinct categories—political, business, military, security, and artistic—these elites found a new commonality as their options for residence and business operations abroad became increasingly restricted. Subsequently, their alignment with the Kremlin's directives has become more pronounced. In light of the sanctions, many have relocated their secondary residences from European countries to Israel, the United Arab Emirates or Turkey.

An additional point warranting consideration is the altered economic calculus, colloquially referred to as the "relative price" of sanctions. Historically, Russian businessmen have shown a preference for Western jurisdictions as repositories for their wealth, viewing Russia as an environment fraught with financial risks and an unpredictable tax system¹²⁸. However, this perception underwent a notable shift in 2022. Assets held by affluent Russians in Western countries were either frozen or rendered immobile. Concurrently, some proposals emerged suggesting that a considerable portion of these assets should be transferred to Ukraine as a condition for lifting of the sanctions¹²⁹.

In contrast, within the Russian Federation, the government implemented what is considered to be a reasonable tax on "excessive profits," leaving substantial fortunes largely undisturbed¹³⁰. This has led to a newfound sense of security among Russian businessmen who display loyalty to the state. For the first time Russia appears to serve as a relatively "safe haven" for significant capital. Preliminary data from 2023 indicates that this shift has been accompanied by an uptick in domestic business activity and tax revenue generated from local sources.

In summary, the landscape for Russian elites has been substantially altered by the imposition of personal sanctions, resulting in both political and economic realignments. These developments raise questions about the intended and actual outcomes of Western sanctions policy, suggesting a need for further review and possibly recalibration of existing measures.

Navigating the labyrinthine geopolitical landscape, one is compelled to recount the saga of Ukrainian-born magnates of the Alfa Group, Mikhail Fridman and German Khan. Their tale is emblematic of the nuanced dynamics that play out in the wake of grand political gestures.

Migrating to Britain in 2015, post the annexation of Crimea, their trajectory appears more as a denouncement of political actions than the pursuit of capitalist ventures. Alfa-Bank, under their stewardship, conspicuously abstained from expanding into Crimea. Instead, their overarching holding entity, the Luxembourg-domiciled ABHH, channeled resources into Ukraine. Their investment portfolio, both commercial and philanthropic, exceeded $400 million in the nation. Beyond the Ukrainian frontiers, their Western forays, either directly or via the LetterOne conglomerate, amassed investments surpassing the $2 billion mark during the same period.

Mikhail Fridman, as the group's helmsman, publicly condemned Russia's militaristic endeavors in Ukraine, showcasing a firm stance that belied his Russian origins. Whispers and more concrete evidence allude to their covert support for the Ukrainian military apparatus during these tumultuous times.

Yet, the international sanctioning machinery, in a sweeping act, ensnared the entirety of Alfa Group's shareholders. Engulfed by the maelstrom of European, British, and American sanctions, these magnates found themselves embroiled in prolonged legal battles. Their plea wasn't solely about economic salvages; it was a fight to retain their adopted homestead under pre-existing terms. And while sections of the Russian opposition and diaspora rallied behind them, the overpowering might of geopolitical machinations ultimately coerced their exodus from Europe.

Conversations with affluent Russian individuals in recent months indicate a pervasive sense of discontent and disillusionment with Western sanctions. Many of these individuals consider at least some sanctions unjustified and lacking substantive grounds. Notably, this sentiment appears to prevail even among those who privately oppose Russia's military actions. The emotional repercussions are such that a majority express a reluctance to re-engage with Europe, even under hypothetical conditions where sanctions might be lifted and assets unfrozen. The current trend suggests a pivot towards alternative jurisdictions such as the United Arab Emirates, Israel and Turkey for the placement of financial assets and real estate investments¹³¹.

This shift in sentiment and behavior among Russia's financial elite points to a longer-term erosion of trust and credibility in Western institutions. The time span for this reputational damage is not easily quantifiable but appears likely to extend over decades rather than years. Consequently, this could inadvertently bolster President Putin's earlier policy agenda of "nationalization of the elites," which was articulated upon his return to the Kremlin in 2012. The recent developments necessitate a thorough evaluation of the efficacy and unintended consequences of Western sanctions policy¹³².

The final aspect meriting attention is the repatriation of capital into Russia, a perhaps unintended outcome of personal sanctions. Based on certain estimates, upward of $50 billion has reportedly been funneled back into the Russian Federation since the onset of the conflict¹³³. It should be noted that the actual figure could potentially be higher, given that not all financial flows are meticulously documented. Interestingly, this amount is on a par with the approximately 4 trillion rubles that Russian citizens have deposited in personal bank accounts in post-Soviet countries, Turkey and the United Arab Emirates¹³⁴. These deposits are primarily aimed at obtaining functional payment cards and safeguarding financial assets. Thus, the restrictions imposed by Western etities appear to have inadvertently contributed to Russia's financial stability.

It is advisable to view this phenomenon as an indirect effect of the sanctions. The individuals repatriating these funds are generally not the subjects of the sanctions themselves; rather, they are motivated by concerns that their assets could be frozen or seized. It is a well-established fact that Russian nationals currently face significant challenges in operating bank accounts within European jurisdictions.

A broader implication of this trend raises questions about the efficacy of the sanctions strategy. What was initially conceived as a punitive measure targeted at specific individuals responsible for the conflict is at risk of transforming into a tool that fosters alienation among the entire Russian citizenry. Whether this outcome was an inadvertent miscalculation or a deliberate choice within the original sanctions design, it certainly merits further scrutiny. The effect dilutes the intended impact of sanctions, shifting focus from culpable individuals to the general population, thereby undermining the original objectives of these measures.

In the context of the existing sanctions framework, it may be beneficial to explore various amendments aimed at enhancing its effectiveness and scope. First of all, people who do not meet the sanctions criteria, who have been included in the sanctions lists by mistake, by hearsay or for other reasons that do not correspond to the objectives of sanctions pressure, should be removed from the lists — sanctions pressure is too important an instrument to be discredited by its erroneous or indiscriminate use.

For individuals residing and working in Russia—regardless of their views on the war, financial status, or tax contributions—exemption from sanctions could be considered. To be eligible for such exemptions, particularly for activities like travel or business operations in European countries, a public denouncement of the war could be set as a prerequisite. Some experts suggest that this may not be the most effective approach. Such declarations could be difficult to harmonize and may subject signatories to persistent accusations of being "forced" or "insincere." A more pragmatic approach may lie in shifting the emphasis from symbolic gestures to concrete legal and financial actions, also confirming the break or leading the entrepreneur to break with the system.

For sanctions to be lifted, it might be more effective if businessmen and women — provided they are not criminally implicated in war crimes — align themselves with foreign companies operating in Russia. This could involve renouncing Russian citizenship, divesting from Russian business interests, and contributing to a specially established humanitarian fund. The parameters of such contributions could be determined by independent humanitarian organizations with a sterling reputation, thereby adding a layer of accountability and legitimacy to the process.

As mentioned, there may be merit in identifying a separate category of individuals, actively sought by Western governments for offenses that range from war crimes to evasion of sectoral sanctions or actions undermining Western security. Instead of imposing traditional sanctions, issuance of confidential arrest warrants could be contemplated as a strategic measure for facilitating their capture. It is worth noting that recent actions by Western governments have included public sanctions against Russian nationals for a broad spectrum of offenses such as identity theft, financial misconduct and cybercrimes. This strategy could be perceived as an expansive, as opposed to focused and detailed, and potentially counterproductive application of sanctions policy. Therefore, a more focused and discreet approach might yield better results in aligning with the goals of both sanctions and arrest warrants.

Moreover, personal sanctions could be reserved for those who, although not directly involved in war crimes or hostile activities against Ukraine and Western countries, nonetheless publicly endorse or profit from the war or the regime initiating it. It is advisable that these sanctions be applicable to actions committed after key milestones, such as annexation of Crimea or invasion of Donbas post-2014.

Lastly, the procedure for lifting sanctions requires a comprehensive and detailed framework. One might argue that the primary objective of personal sanctions is not necessarily regime change—given the current limitations of even affluent Russians to challenge the Kremlin—but rather the fragmentation of Russian elites to induce alignment with Western interests. Accordingly, a well-defined mechanism should be developed for individuals currently under sanctions to have these lifted or sanctions regime may be relaxed depending on compliance with a certain list of parameters. Such a policy could incentivize high-profile figures like oligarchs, wealthy individuals, artists and media personalities to distance themselves from the current Russian administration.

This could serve as a highly valued "exit option," especially within the context of authoritarian regimes. Therefore, the focus of Western policies might more pragmatically be on punishing war criminals, isolating regime sup-porters within Russia and facilitating the departure of those willing to sever ties with the current regime.

One of the purported objectives of sanctions and other external pressures is believed to be the incitement of protest within Russian society. This is achieved both through causing its economic state to deteriorate, which is perceived not only as a means to weaken the Kremlin's military capabilities but also its domestic political strengths, and indirectly supporting the Russian opposition by publicly delegitimizing the current presidential and parliamentary authorities. In simple terms, the message is, "if you oppose the war and Putin, take to the streets."

To assess the sensibility of such an approach and its potential outcome, it seems pertinent in this context to recall the evolution of the relationship between the Russian opposition and the so-called Western world. Understanding the role and fate of various strata in these relations, especially activists and the business community, is key. It's also vital to gauge the possibility of protest movements in Russia at the current juncture.

The unwavering verbal support for Russian civil society in its confrontation with Vladimir Putin's authoritarian regime by democratic nations is evident¹³⁵. This long-standing support has remained a consistent factor in the triangular relationship involving the Russian opposition, Putin's regime, and democratic governments. It's this history of support that may have fueled disappointment following Russia's invasion of Ukraine: having provided support for so many years, Putin initiated a full-scale war, but where was the mass protest that could have led to a regime change, cessation of the war, or at least clearly demonstrated that a significant number of Russian citizens did not support it?

At the heart of this disappointment is the accurate premise that the only way to stop the war against Ukraine and end the Russian dictatorship is in partnership with Russian civil society. However, the shock of current events, radical ideas from extreme political forces, which resonate especially during times of war due to their perceived clarity and simplicity, sometimes lead to misguided or dubious conclusions drawn from this accurate premise – that "to stop the war and change the Russian regime, Russians themselves are needed".

Some arguments, previously unheard during prior wars and not considered relevant for citizens of other aggressive dictatorships, have emerged: that there's no difference between opponents and supporters of the war, that opponents of the dictatorship are as culpable as its supporters since they "failed to stop it", that there should be a halt in allowing Russians, including opponents of the dictatorship, to leave the country, and that those who have left should, through various restrictions, be compelled to return and engage in political combat, and that the presence of Russians poses threats to European security or "upsets Ukrainians".

However, these arguments not only contradict the lessons Europe learned from World War II – since "never again" should clearly pertain not only to combat actions or attempts to appease an aggressor but also to the idea that potential victims should not be trapped within an aggressive dictatorship – but also conflict with the core values of democratic nations. Beyond their ideological mismatch, these positions lack practical sense, hindering the establishment of a proper interaction between Russian elites and democratic societies towards achieving a shared goal – to halt the war and transform Russia's regime.

The gradual transformation of Putin's regime into an aggressive dictatorship disoriented Western politicians when seeking the right balance between the government and the opposition. This is hardly surprising, as this gradual shift perplexed the Russian society itself. In the relationship between the Russian civil society on one hand, and the Wes-tern public opinion and political class on the other, three phases can be distinguished, each characterized by its own successes and challenges.

The first phase can be termed as 'inertial'. During this phase, there was a prevailing belief that Russia, despite certain deviations, was on the path of democratic transition. Since Russia wasn't offered membership in unions, like the EU, which require high unified standards of civil liberties and political institutions, Russia's deviations from these standards were not deemed significant.

Western politicians believed that for Russia, the sought-after societal structure was a market democracy¹³⁶. However, in relationships with countries beyond the tentative borders of the Western community, the market seemed more critical than democratic institutions. These institutions were, presumably, expected to catch up as the country's market economy, integrated into the world, strengthened. Putin, being popular and advocating for a market-driven economy, increasingly led Western politicians to expect the opposition to change the behavior of the Russian regime and 'make his life difficult' where he went astray, rather than lead the country themselves.

The liberal party representatives, who lost seats in the Duma, joined the leadership of opposition movements (e.g., "Solidarity")¹³⁷, and former democratic parties in the Duma (Yabloko, SPS)¹³⁸ transitioned to the opposition, retaining representation in local government bodies. Simultaneously, a new non-parliamentary opposition began to emerge, which, in addition to traditional democratic and liberal slogans, utilized nationalistic, populist, and anti-elitist messages broadly (after 2010, this movement was led by Navalny)¹³⁹. Here, Western politicians faced a challenging choice between values close to them and familiar interlocutors on one side, and the second stream, which could provide a broader base for protest. These two protest movements diverged in foreign policies. The former could generally be termed representatives of the pro-Western party, while the latter argued that Russia had its national interests that might conflict with the West.

During this phase, the West's support for the opposition was relatively significant. However, the primary mistake lay in forgoing the task of standardizing institutions in exchange for integration perspectives or other appealing opportunities. Essentially, the requirement for a change of power, crucial for recognition and interaction with the Russian regime, was lifted.

In the fall of 2011, a new phase in relations between the West and Russian civil society began, predominantly lasting until Russia's invasion of Ukraine. The unfair campaign of Duma elections¹⁴⁰ and blatant falsification of their results against the backdrop of Medvedev's liberal rhetoric, and more importantly, Putin's decision to return to the Kremlin and the cynical manner in which it was presented, spawned the mass Moscow protest of winter-spring 2011-2012¹⁴¹. Scenes of protest, reminiscent of anti-dictatorial revolutions from South Korea, Indonesia, and the Philippines to Eastern Europe of the late 80s, and even more recent events in Belgrade, Tbilisi, Kyiv, and the then-recent Arab Spring, added to the protest's immense popularity among Western public opinion. The prospect of dealing again with Vladimir Putin, with whom they had accumulated a heavy burden of toxic grievances, wasn't welcomed by the leaders of democratic countries. Meanwhile, the protest's weaknesses became apparent: its metropolitan nature, the absence of empowered leaders to converse with the outside world, and the fact that the protesters failed to incite a split within the ranks of the Russian regime.

The fading and eventual defeat of the protest pushed Western leaders to revert to their usual interactions with Russian authorities. Despite supporting the protest in official statements, Western leaders acknowledged Putin's new presidency and the government he appointed. They sent congratulatory telegrams, resumed regular contact with him and other Russian officials, and even maintained relations with the Duma, whose elections they had repeatedly criticized as unfair and unfree. This had long-term demotivating consequences for Russian civil society, undermining its faith in its strength. It's challenging to be more democratic than Western democratic leaders, who recognized the Russian government and Putin as Russia's head.

Thus, Vladimir Putin and his regime achieved what dictators, experiencing a legitimacy deficit domestically, strive for: legitimacy through international relations. There were scandalous instances when Western embassies denied visas to activists persecuted for participating in protests, based on the fact that criminal and administrative cases were initiated against them in Russia. At this stage, the Russian regime was excluded by the Western political class from countries in a state of democratic transition. Market autocracy was accepted as a permissible form of Russian governance, contrary to the opinions of the democratic sector of Russian civil society.

Of course, the relationship of democratic countries to the Russian government after Putin's return and the crushing of protests could not remain unchanged. Within Russian civil society, democratic countries began to seek potential allies for a regime transformation (the symbolic 2012 meeting of the new US ambassador, McFaul, with the opposition that took place before his credentials presentation)¹⁴². Meanwhile, Russian officials faced their first personal sanctions—the Magnitsky list¹⁴³.

Predictably, Putin and the security wing of the Russian government saw the Moscow protest as a Western conspiracy, an attempt at a color revolution, which they had anticipated and feared for the previous decade¹⁴⁴. Protest participants and civil society as a whole were excluded by the authorities from potential interlocutors. They were branded as conduits of foreign influence and simply as traitors¹⁴⁵. Thus, the regime attributed to the protesters a closeness to Western politicians, which they genuinely did not possess.

Throughout these years leading up to the invasion of Ukraine, street protests largely remained legal and feasible. However, the cost of protesting grew: permit procedures became more complex, attempts to obtain permits were increasingly denied, detentions during protests became harsher, and penalties more severe. Criminal liability was introduced for "repeated violations of street action rules" with corresponding penalties¹⁴⁶.

Following the Moscow protests of 2011-2012 were the anti-war protests of 2014 and 2015. Their climax can be considered March 15, 2014, when tens of thousands prote-sted in Moscow against the violation of Ukraine's territorial integrity and a potential war with it¹⁴⁷. Over this and the next year, several street actions of varying scales took place against the war and interference in Ukraine's affairs.

In 2019, Alexei Navalny's FBK (Anti-Corruption Foundation) unexpectedly managed to turn the elections to the regional parliaments of Moscow and St. Petersburg into significant civil disobedience events, major electoral and protest activities¹⁴⁸. Judging by the severity with which this typically-sized protest was pre-emptively suppressed, and Moscow essentially being handed over to security forces for a time, it's likely that by this point Vladimir Putin had already determined plans to remain in power after 2024 and the idea of a military operation against Ukraine.

In these local elections, Navalny first tested the controversial "smart voting¹⁴⁹" technology, advocating to vote for any candidate except the ruling party's one. As a result, many United Russia candidates indeed lost, but they were often replaced by communist or nationalist candidates with even more anti-Western, aggressive, and revanchist programs. Not all Western allies of Russian civil society supported this protest voting method.

The smart voting technology became a vivid illustration of Western politicians' fears regarding Russian democracy, fears long shared with liberal representatives of Russian civil society: if Russian citizens were given full freedom, they might choose someone "worse than Putin". Therefore, the idea of full democratization of Russia was and still is approached with apprehensions by many. Clearly, for many, a non-aggressive, market-based "autocracy with institutions" remained a more secure and practically preferable version of the Russian regime for a long time.

Precisely because civil society had maintained the very possibility of protesting despite intensified pressure over many years, Russia's invasion of Ukraine was immediately followed by protests similar to those Russia had seen in previous years. However, within just a few days, it became evident that Russia itself was no longer the state civil society had known in recent years. A classic aggressive war, waged against a neighboring country, swept away all previous rules and assumptions in a matter of days, transforming the Russian regime from a hybrid, difficult-to-remove autocracy into a classic 20th-century dictatorship. The cost of protesting rose so much that participation became incompatible with regular life. Almost without exception, the price of protest meant an end to ordinary life; protesting became a life choice, a profession incompatible with any other.

Thus, hopes for a protest or even a forcible confrontation of anti-Putin forces with the regime are not only futile today but also somewhat harmful in a way, as they divert the conversation towards empty expectations and false assessments. The absence of street actions is taken as an increase in regime support, and the lack of anti-war forces in Russia implies a totality of blame on Russian citizens for supporting aggression. The pragmatism of long-term support for Putin by Western democracies and a policy of demonstrative non-interference has swung in another radical direction: non-recognition of all political forces of Russian origin, especially opposition ones, as suitable for dialogue, and accusing of marginality and weakness those who were previously overlooked and oppressed for years.

The international community's stance towards the Russian class of major entrepreneurs, as generally expressed through sanctions lists, can be viewed as unequivocal. Yet, the preference for sanctions over criminal charges suggests a purported intent to pressure this elite group. Such actions can only be assessed in the context of the evolving relationship between Russian society and Western entities with significant Russian capital – a relationship that is far from simple and laden with grievances and murky episodes.

The cohort of Russia's major proprietors, encompassing both industrialists and financiers, is indeed subject to considerable scrutiny. Such scrutiny would hold particularly significant weight if presented by a state or another society stratum capable of cultivating, within a span of 30 years from an absolute beginning, an enlightened and strategically thinking class of major entrepreneurs. This class would ideally counterbalance the security bureaucracy's centralizing ambitions and refrain from leveraging state mechanisms for non-competitive growth and enrichment. Regrettably, no such state has manifested itself in global history. The Russian entrepreneurial class emerged from the impoverishment of the Soviet system, as there was no other matrix from which it could have evolved. Political literacy, experience, professional, and civic expertise were accumulated by Russian proprietors and managers at an unprecedented pace. However, their actions are now subject to evaluation by global public opinion and bureaucracy, which typically operate within the constraints of short electoral cycles.

In essence, over the past 30 years, two conflicting expectations have been projected onto major Russian business entities (though the boundaries of this group remain nebulous): involvement in the country's political life and abstention from it. Even the term "oligarch," revived from ancient Greek vernacular, implies influence and manipulation of political entities in the interests of major proprietors.

Interestingly, this rhetoric is shared by Russia's classical liberal opposition, a segment of the new "de-ideologized" opposition primarily championing an "anti-corruption" agenda¹⁵⁰, and Western political and media elites who have consistently critiqued the practices of Russian capitalism. Given that the instruments of sanctions and other pressures are wielded predominantly by Western institutions, their interactions with both the Russian government and Russian capital warrant analytical approach.

This array of criticisms tends to paint the discourse in black-and-white terms, whereas the reality of the past 30 years indicates that the behavior of Russian business has evolved and was never monolithic. In its nascent stages, Russian capital couldn't be accused of lacking a political stance or demonstrating inert manifestations of such. The emerging Russian capital was the primary force resisting a Communist resurgence in 1996. Subsequent events may have tinted recollections of this resistance with ambivalence, but the fact of not just financial, but also intellectual and organizational efforts from large (though considerably smaller than today) Russian businesses in this regard remains uncontested.

Often overlooked is the fact that this mobilization was aimed at advocacy, not election rigging; it was conducted openly and even transparently and required significant courage. This is because it didn't stem from a position equal or superior to the existing authority. Instead, it originated from a profound crisis of the Yeltsin administration, immense unpopularity of the economic reforms of the Gaidar government, and the consequent administrations, coupled with the high risks of defeat. Such a loss would have led all entrepreneurs opposing the leader of the Communist Party Gennady Zyuganov to bankruptcy and, likely, to arrest.

It's pertinent to note that despite Gennady Zyuganov's high electoral rating and broad-based support across various societal strata and regions, the contention was not merely an ideological clash within a mature democracy where power transition might take precedence over the specific platforms of candidates. The core issue was the potential resurgence of anti-liberal forces, bolstered by lower-tier criminal clans, a reversal of all economic reforms, and a shift in foreign policy direction. Essentially, the Russian business sector ensured not only the continuation of Yeltsin's rule (which in hindsight may not be viewed entirely favorably) but primarily the preservation of the private property principle and the country's openness to Western technologies and capital. This openness had the potential to lead to systemic and enduring positive transformations in Russia if the West had been receptive and capitalized on them.

George Soros in 96 at the Davos forum (six months before the presidential election in Moscow) advised Russian business to "leave Russia because now they are finished ... the communists will win", and two years later wrote that Yeltsin won thanks to "political machinations¹⁵¹" and "dictatorship in Russia is unrealistic¹⁵²".

However, over the subsequent few years, Western capital, media, and public institutions were primarily content with the mere elimination of risks associated with Soviet revival and did not endeavor to invest in the Russian economy or in developing a civilized market across the CIS. A similar scenario also manifested itself in Ukraine: cautiousness of Western partners compelled the nascent Ukrainian business sector to pivot more towards their familiar northeastern vicinity, reinforcing post-Soviet industrial-economic ties. The severing of such ties subsequently exacerbated tensions in Russia-Ukraine bilateral relations in the early 21st century.

Reflecting upon the low valuations of collateral auctions and the "dirt-cheap" sale of state property, it's essential to recognize that there were no substantial restrictions on foreign companies participating in this process at that time. Stakeholders from both the business sector and the state have often recollected that globally there were few entities willing to participate in these auctions directly, be part of consortiums, or even finance Russian privatization. Political and economic conditions in Europe and the commodity market, on the whole, did not appear conducive for American and European corporations to engage with Russian assets. Yet, it didn't deter widespread criticism of those who undertook these high risks. Fast-forwarding, it's worth noting that neither administrative barriers nor ethical considerations hindered Western businesses from investing heavily in Putin's Russia from five years post-auction until 2014 and occasionally up until 2022, turning a blind eye to the arrests and assassinations of political opposition, aggression in Georgia, election rigging, and more.

Of course, the widespread and timely entry of Western corporations into the market wouldn't have been a panacea against Putin's regression. However, it would have integrated the Russian market into the broader European production system earlier and more robustly, sending the right signal to Russian entrepreneurs during their pivotal formative period. Evidence can be observed in the markets of such countries like the Czech Republic, Poland, Hungary, and other former socialist block nations, which were subjected to an influx of Western capital and standards much earlier despite the high crime rates and various challenges of that period, including the dissolution of Czechoslovakia into two separate nations.

During that period, the attitude of European capital, in particular, contributed to the emergence in Russia of a somewhat detached or sovereign layer of major Russian capital. This layer owed its position neither to Putin nor to Western partners but solely to its own entrepreneurial spirit and the weakness of Russian institutions amid a rapidly changing economic landscape. This generation of businessmen could be faulted for either their inability or perhaps their unwillingness to expedite the establishment of such institutions. However, today's sanctions are not based on these accusations.

Here's how the report "Putinism after Putin: The Deep Structures of Russian Authoritarianism¹⁵³," prepared by the Centre for Eastern Studies, defines the position of major Russian business:

"...big business, consisting of around one hundred U.S. dollar billionaires. … Their overriding goal is to maximise their assets (through financial operations and influencing the country’s laws). The authoritarian regime provides them with the opportunity to accumulate wealth on an unprecedented scale, which would be impossible in a democratic system. The main sources of their enrichment include: Russia’s opaque system of tax breaks; foreign trade preferences; and public procurement contracts awarded without competitive tendering procedures…"

Such an approach is symptomatic of the practice of generalizations and lack of attention to detail with which the Western expert community describes the situation in economic Russia. It remains utterly unclear how, under this definition, Oleg Tinkov, the creator from scratch of one of the most technologically advanced banks in Europe, or Sergey Galitsky, the creator of the most potent discount retail, or Anatoly Karachinsky, the developer of software for Boeing, or Tamara Bakalchuk, the owner of a clothing marketplace, fit. It's also unclear how, in such a regime of favoritism, foreign companies operated in almost every sector of the Russian economy, showing profits many times higher than domestic markets. Did they benefit from the opaque system of tax incentives and influence legislation? Of course not. Even in the 2016-2017 Global Competitiveness Report by the World Economic Forum, it is stated that the "Favoritism in decisions of government officials index for Russia is nearly identical to that of Cyprus, which is an EU member, and was considerably better than the index for some other EU countries, such as Slovenia or the Czech Republic¹⁵⁴.

Upon Vladimir Putin's rise to power, the pragmatic duplicity of European capital became evident. This was not just reflected in their entry into the Russian market despite the almost immediate dismantling of democratic institutions in Russia but also in their willingness to cooperate with the immature Russian business abroad while disregarding its non-compliance with global anti-corruption standards. Business magnates, legislators, and regional leaders from Russia poured investments into Western businesses, utilizing funds that are now considered questionable in terms of their origins. They effortlessly acquired football clubs and mansions, breezing through necessary banking and regulatory checks. World leaders and celebrities welcomed Russian businessmen and officials, while global industry pioneers flocked to Moscow to meet with Vladimir Putin.

Strangely, during this era, if there was any entity attempting to resist the monopolization of power and the intensification of special services, it was the Russian business community itself. While the global community silently looked on, these business entities inevitably lost the battle. In the initial years of Putin's reign, all privately-owned national television channels were either eliminated or nationalized, and their proprietors were either incarcerated or forced to flee the country. Despite the contentious nature surrounding individuals like Vladimir Gusinsky, Boris Berezovsky, and Mikhail Khodorkovsky, the political motives behind their persecution are undeniable. Yet, their repeated warnings about the dangers of Putin's decisions and tactics — not just to Russia's democratic institutions and business but also to its neighboring countries — fell on deaf ears internationally. Some faced persecution at Russia's request, were under extradition threats, many were discredited, and a few were even assassinated. Yet, it took years before the officials of democratic nations began publicly linking these incidents to Russian authorities.

The aforementioned names are just the tip of the iceberg. Dozens of individuals from Russia's Forbes list over the years have been forced to relocate abroad. The Putin-era state control of the Russian economy primarily targeted free Russian businesses as potential partners and participants in an emerging opposition. Yet, the world, following President Bush's example of looking into Putin's eyes and seeing the man’s soul, turned a blind eye.

BP became a partner of Rosneft corporation which was created following the criminal nationalization of the private oil giant YUKOS. Shell, in partnership with Vladimir Putin's business allies, commenced the development of fields in Sakhalin. After Moscow's military aggression in Georgia, LVMH set up a giant showroom in Red Square. Global capital was ready to collaborate not only with the nouveau riche of the Yeltsin era but even more so with Putin's pseudo-proprietors.

Today, sanctions have enveloped both generations of Russian capitalists without distinguishing between those who succeeded thanks to Putin and those who emerged before or even despite him. Yet these sanctions spared Western corporations and politicians who for decades failed to recognize Russia's militaristic tendencies or even encouraged them. Neither Gerhard Schröder, who sat on the board of directors of Rosneft for many years¹⁵⁵, nor Silvio Berlusconi's advisors who assisted in building the Russian National Media Group propaganda giant¹⁵⁶, nor other Western companies that have been running profitable ventures in Russia and paying huge taxes to the federal budget, which now funds Russia's invasion of Ukraine, have been affected by these sanctions.

Informed by the bitter experiences of Putin's first decade, a significant portion of Russian business chose gradual emigration as its response. Recognizing the impossibility of operating under the oppressive hand of special services, without independent courts and media, major entrepreneurs began redirecting their efforts and capital from Russia to places where principles of individual, not collective national or class responsibility, seemed unshakeable.

Russian businesses have always had a penchant for spending warmer months on the French Riviera and in Italy, a favored destination of Russian capital even before the 1917 revolution. Mansions and apartments were bought in London, Paris, and Baden-Baden¹⁵⁷. However, the first half of the 2010s marked a fundamental shift. The shocking power shift in 2012, closely followed by the annexation of Crimea, prompted Russian business to venture abroad not for leisure or entertainment, but for work and a genuine break from Putin's policies.

Billions of Russian investment dollars flowed into the West over the last decade. Open sources suggest that these weren't merely investments in real estate or deposits but "smart" investments into technology, industrial production, and petrochemical industry, where Russian businessmen had amassed significant expertise. Relocating investment hubs didn't necessarily mean the immediate sale of Russian assets, just as acquiring European citizenship didn't result in instant renunciation of Russian nationality. The situation in Russia is further complicated by the reality that under a totalitarian regime, it's much easier to lose assets than to move them. And although the devaluation of Russian companies since the onset of the war essentially represents a monumental loss for both the country and its current owners, one can't fault anyone for not selling Russian assets and not departing faster than Western companies.

It might be easier to criticize Russian business for collective cowardice, an unwillingness to politically unite or pool financial resources to counter the regime. But apart from jailed Russian opposition figures, who has the right to level such criticism? Even so, these rebukes would be moot. Businesses, as a class, always behave pragmatically in every country and situation. Moreover, even departing from pragmatic behaviors, an unbiased analysis indicates that by this point, little could be done from within the country. Practical resistance to the regime became unfeasible by the mid-2000s.

The Russian business sector ceased to be a political player with the endorsement of the majority of the Russian populace. Since the sentencing of Mikhail Khodorkovsky¹⁵⁸, none of the major Russian businessmen could exert even indirect influence on Vladimir Putin's most important domestic policy or any foreign economic decisions (with the exception of some of his old colleagues who became businessmen "on the side" during his years in power). In essence, this came with the tacit agreement and encouragement of Western nations, more interested in appeasing Putin and witnessing growing profits than in confronting authoritarianism. By 2014, Putin's enforcement machine was tuned to the point where even fleeing from it was akin to a non-public, internal protest. By 2022, this strategy became the chosen path for millions of small entrepreneurs and employees.

The second reason is less obvious but even more significant. In reality, the Russian civil resistance, in one form or another persisting throughout Putin's tenure, couldn't have existed without the major business established in the country pre-Putin, or at the very least, not thanks to of him. Enlightening the population, civic and political initiatives by activists, from the Anti-Corruption Foundation to "The Last Address" NGO and others, was both difficult and important.

Today, names like Sergey Petrov, Dmitry Zimin, Mikhail Khodorkovsky and Yevgeny Chichvarkin, who made their antiwar positions public, are well-known. However, this hasn't exempted them from regulatory and sanction-related issues, as with almost any Russian citizen or ex-citizen. Still, dozens of top-tier businessmen consistently support independent Russian media abroad, refugee centers, families of political prisoners, all without publicizing their names. And it's not just out of fear, although spotlight-ing such assistance would certainly create problems for these men and women. It would draw the attention of both the regime, with its vast informant network, and international financial regulators most probably unwilling to delve into the intricacies of cross-border charitable activities in a totalitarian state.

The report's authors are aware of dozens of Russian capitalists who, on the eve of the war or during its first month, aided the Ukrainian government. Lately this assistance was eventually declined, which, in our view, was due to Ukrainian political shortsightedness. Still, a detailed analysis and criticism of its decisions aren't our primary focus. The crux of the matter is that a significant portion of the Russian entrepreneurial class is ready to oppose Putin within existing external frameworks, which the fleeing entrepreneurs themselves aren't yet able or willing to create. Such institutions might be, if not the Ukrainian state, definitely European or American organizations and intergovernmental initiatives. By not distinguishing the sheep from the goats, they deprive the anti-Putin coalition of potentially the most competent and experienced participants - the defectors. Because, in truth, there are no angels in the private Russian entrepreneurial class. But opposing Putin does not require angels. What's needed are conditions where significant capital and collective intellect can more productively work toward liberating both Russia and Ukraine, which is unquestionably in their best interest.

Historically, anti-war protests have always been most effective in democratic states. Protests against wars in Indochina, Afghanistan, Iraq, and against the deployment of American missiles in Europe had, at times, influenced the policies of Western governments. However, once military operations commence in democratic countries, it's challenging to wind them down swiftly, even if they are deemed unjustified. In autocracies, the chances of ending a war due to protests are even slimmer, at least until the war leads to significant economic difficulties.

During the Cold War era, Western governments demonstrated a greater realism and understanding of the nature of dictatorships. During events like the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia or the Afghan war, no one expected Soviet citizens to protest; it was an individual decision for the brave few. While Europe witnessed massive protests against the deployment of American intermediate-range missiles, no one expected or demanded similar protests from Soviet citizens against the deployment of Soviet missiles. Instead, Western governments advocated for freedom of movement out of the USSR and welcomed dissidents. A significant difference between the Iron Curtain era and now is that Russia doesn't seal its borders from the inside. However, the purpose of the Western countries' policies was not merely to welcome emigrants and utilize their labor and intellectual capacities but to demonstrate that people wanted to leave the militant Soviet dictatorship. Similarly, today, people are eager to leave, and the exodus of human capital undermines its capabilities, delegitimizing it in the eyes of the external world and its own population.

Because modern authoritarian Russia is often seen as a reincarnation of the USSR, the absence of an iron curtain can be misleading. Modern Russia indeed isn't the USSR; it's a right-wing dictatorship with a market economy. However, there's vast experience in interacting with opposition from right-wing dictatorships and dictatorships that don't seal their borders from the inside, and there's no reason not to use this experience when dealing with Russians. In democratic countries, powerful, intellectually and financially significant diasporas have formed from non-democratic market countries. The argument that citizens of these dictatorships should return home and overthrow their regimes was not commonly held. Events like Ninoy Aquino's return to Manila and his assassination at the airport¹⁵⁹ was a voluntary decision; it led to a wave of outraged protest in the Philippines. However, even this exceptionally massive protest did not lead to regime change; the "People Power Revolution" occurred later and was related to various other factors¹⁶⁰.

Following World War II, the number of market dictatorships that waged aggressive wars was limited. Nevertheless, there's a considerable and unequivocal experience regarding their civil societies. While Portugal in the 1960s and early 1970s was engaged in colonial wars and under international sanctions, there were no restrictions on labor and political emigration from Portugal to democratic countries. On the contrary, anti-war and anti-dictatorship forces in exile, including defectors from the ruling elite (like General Delgado and his followers), were even forgiven for the dramatic hijacking of the major Portuguese liner Santa Maria, which had American citizens aboard¹⁶¹. The attempt by Greek colonels to annex Cyprus did not change the attitude towards Greek intellectuals, public figures, and entrepreneurs who were living in democratic countries. The Iran-Iraq war had no effect on the political and cultural emigrants of the two countries living in the West. Argentina's junta's attempt to annex the Falklands posed problems for Argentina's political emigration because a kind of "Falkland consensus" had formed in Argentina. Yet in democratic countries, it never occurred to worsen their position in exile.

In their relations with dictatorships, democratic countries believed that the effective participation of unarmed civilians in regime change is possible only under specific conditions. These conditions arise when an objective situation for such a regime change develops - a split of the elites, hesitation or departure of some security forces, the collapse of the consensus on which the regime relied, economic difficulties, a deep crisis of legitimacy. Effective influence on the regime using civil protest is possible during the consolidation of the dictatorship or its decomposition. During these periods, the protest potential accumulated by civil society effectively works to dismantle the regime and build new institutions. In contrast, mass pro-tests when the regime is solid are either impossible or represent a heroic but irrational expenditure of human potential necessary for a real regime change.

From March 2022, Russia has the strictest wartime laws regarding freedom of speech and protest activity, making protests acts of individual heroism¹⁶². Even economic hardships do not necessarily provoke a change in power, or else under their weight, the Soviet Union, North Korea, Cuba, or Francoist Spain of the 1940s to early 1950s would have immediately collapsed. Conversely, people who have left a dictatorship and successfully settled in democratic countries create a negative comparison for the regime, as was the case with a million Spanish workers in Western Europe during Franco's regime.

In this regard, the awarding of the Nobel Prizes to the chief editor of "Novaya Gazeta" Dmitry Muratov¹⁶³ and representatives of the International Memorial (together with Ukrainian and Belarusian human rights defenders¹⁶⁴), the Cannes award to director Kirill Serebrennikov¹⁶⁵, the issuance of licenses to Russian media in EU countries, the issuance of humanitarian visas and talent visas, and the cooperation of Western think tanks with Russian intellectuals appear successful.

The delegitimization and stigmatization of the entire Russian population hinder opponents of war and dictatorship in Russia from becoming a successful counter-elite that could play a crucial role in regime change. For the same purpose — to cut off, to isolate those who left — Russian propaganda works. Meanwhile, if public figures who left Russia because of the war are cut off from society inside Russia, it might happen that changes will rely solely on those who stayed inside, who, with rare exceptions, lived under the inevitable burden of silence and compromises. Free interaction, mutual trust between parts of civil society inside and outside Russia is a vital factor in its genuine and irreversible transformation.

According to various estimates, between 500,000 and 1.3 million people left Russia in 2022¹⁶⁶. As the demographer Alexei Raksha notes, this exodus occurred in two waves: around 150,000 left after the start of the full-scale military invasion, and between 350,000 and 650,000 left following the mobilization announcement in September 2022. A third wave of departures was anticipated but never materialized, despite the media sounding alarms about electronic call-up notices; these rumors did not result in mass panic or departures¹⁶⁷.

This emigration, especially the first wave but also significantly the second one, is primarily composed of those who disagree with Russia's current course of action. They are individuals who morally and politically cannot accept this aggression against Ukraine and, largely as a consequence, fear political persecution. Their active social and political stance is a defining characteristic of many, if not most, of those who left Russia post-war.