The drone attack on Moscow imperils Putin like never before

A review of the months since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine would turn up a succession of events that, depending on the outcome, could one day be seen as turning points. From the retreat of the huge Russian armoured convoy threatening Kyiv, to the ending of early ceasefire talks, to Russia’s capture of Mariupol (and so the land route to Crimea), and more recently its victory at Bakhmut – possibly opening Russia’s way to seize more of the Donbas.

To these potential landmarks must now be added the 30 May drone attacks on the Moscow suburbs, which appeared to target, among other places, the elite suburb of Rublyovka, home to the hidden mansions of the capital’s rich and powerful. The president’s official residence is not quite in the same area, but it is not far away.

Kyiv denied responsibility for the Rublyovka attack, as it had done with the drone attack on the Kremlin earlier in the month, and with the growing number of small-scale attacks in regions of Russia closer to the border. This time, though, the denial was more muted.

An aide to Volodymyr Zelensky said only that Kyiv was not “directly” involved, and added that more such attacks could be expected. It is hard to interpret that as anything less than an admission – a boast, even – of Kyiv’s involvement. And such attacks have a certain rationale.

Suddenly, it seems, the war is touching the heart of Russian power, if – as yet – in a way that is largely symbolic, rather than destructive. The question is what effect, if any, this might have on Russia – whether on calculations at the top, or morale at the grassroots. Clearly, another front of the war has been opened – but how decisive could it be?

One point to note is that – so far – Russia has not responded by lashing out with a major attack on Kyiv, which might suggest either a lack of preparedness in the Kremlin or a degree of embarrassment, or both. Vladimir Putin condemned what he called “terrorist attacks on civilian targets”, but air raids on Ukraine have largely continued at the same rate. His message was primarily one of reassurance to Russians that the country’s air defences were – mostly – effective, and he did not, as some had predicted, impose martial law.

The real venom has mainly come from the next tier of political figures and commentators, chief among them the deputy chair of Russia’s Security Council, and erstwhile president, Dmitry Medvedev. Once the mild-mannered and urbane face of Russia’s post-Soviet generation, Medvedev has morphed into one of the fiercest rhetorical attack dogs of the war. It was he, for instance, who warned that British officials could become targets for Russia, after the foreign secretary, James Cleverly, said – correctly – that Ukraine was within its rights to project force into Russia.

An even more ferocious broadcast came from Yevgeny Prigozhin, who posted a diatribe on the Telegram social media service, blaming Russia rather than Ukraine. Prigozhin, the commander of the Wagner mercenary group – which claims the credit for taking Bakhmut – and a long-time associate of Putin, blamed Russia’s defence establishment and the “out of touch” officials living in luxury in Rublyovka. “How dare you allow the drones to reach Moscow?” he asked. “What do ordinary people do when drones with explosives crash into their windows?”

In so saying, he echoed a furious interview he had given a week earlier, in which he had forecast revolution in Russia if the elite left it to the poor to fight. “This bifurcation [of society],” he said, “can end as in 1917 with a revolution ... The sleek children of the elite will end up raised on the pitchforks of the people.”

Prigozhin’s fury, his advocacy for the have-nots, and the apparent impunity he enjoys in expressing such views have prompted all kinds of speculation as to whether he is perhaps being used as a lightning rod to deflect criticism from Putin, whether the Kremlin lacks the power to rein him in, or even whether a struggle for power in the Kremlin, long forecast by some, might already have begun. Personally, I doubt that Prigozhin is that kind of political player, but the more public he makes his apparent disillusionment with the conduct of the war, the harder it is to second-guess his game.

Yet another response to the drone attacks came from (at least a part of) the grassroots. Rather than fear – although there was some of that – street interviews and social media revealed a large measure of scepticism about the official version of events. Just eight drones in all? Only two people injured, and some minor material damage, according to the Moscow mayor? The tendency to doubt these assertions suggests that Russians are far from convinced.

If you put all these different components together, what you have – or could have – is a volatile mix. There is a president holding back – for fear of what, perhaps? A full-blown Nato response? There are senior officials who appear to be gagging for more firepower to use against Ukraine and its allies. There is a belligerent, self-appointed lieutenant with his own private army who appears to be taking the side of the poor. And there is a public that is widely distrustful about what it is being told.

As is also known from the recent short-lived incursion into Russia’s Belgorod region, there are other paramilitary groups organised under sundry Russian nationalist flags, operating from inside Ukraine. They may be Russian or Ukrainian in origin, but they have a safe haven from where they can launch cross-border operations in the age-old tradition of insurgents.

Might there be a chance – even the slimmest of chances – that such groups could gradually garner support among a disaffected Russian population, whose lives have been disrupted by a war unacknowledged at the top, and muster volunteers for a march on Moscow? Or if not Moscow, then some of the regional capitals en route?

This seems to me a remote possibility, either now or in the near future. Russia has the appearance of stability; there is little overt dissent, and objectors to the war have been allowed to leave for abroad. Putin appears to be maintaining his support; Russia is not, contrary to Western hopes, internationally out on a limb. Living standards have held up despite Western sanctions. Casualties have not become anything like the political issue they became during the Soviet-era Afghan war.

And yet, the return of those Afghan veterans, unacknowledged, impoverished, damaged, into a country losing trust with its system and its leaders, was a factor in the Soviet Union’s collapse. As were the military failures in the toppling of the Tsar and fomenting of the Bolshevik Revolution.

As I say, this is not where I think we are, by a long way. But, as with the need for someone to be contemplating the risks, nuclear and other, if the war spreads, so the possible scenarios for the war’s fallout in Russia need to be broached, however improbable they may currently seem.