The history of the Soviet Union offers two contrasting lessons. One is that authoritarian systems can endure for decades despite economic weakness. The other is that their collapse can arrive with startling speed, precisely because the regime's control over the military, police, and media conceals the depth of internal discontent until it is too late.
Vladimir Putin's Russia, the Soviet Union's successor state, has followed this pattern since he began dismantling democratic institutions after his first presidential term in 2000. For more than two decades, he has silenced or eliminated opponents—from Boris Nemtsov, murdered on a Moscow street in 2015, to Alexei Navalny, imprisoned in 2021 and killed in custody in 2024. The full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022 turned any public criticism of the war into a criminal offense.
Yet recently, a few voices have dared to speak uncomfortable truths. Andrei Klepach, chief economist at the state-owned bank VEB, publicly called the war a failure that has harmed Russia. He lost his job but, notably, has not been imprisoned or killed—at least not yet. More striking was the intervention of Andrei Melnichenko, Russia's wealthiest oligarch, who published a lengthy essay in The Economist in early July. Some suspect the Kremlin orchestrated it as disinformation, but it more likely reflects Putin's need to release pressure among the elite, allowing a controlled vent rather than risking a more dangerous explosion.
The Russian political system remains opaque, so outsiders can only guess at the true balance of power. But the accumulating signs of weakness and discontent are too numerous to dismiss. Putin's recent visit to the Kuril Islands—the Northern Territories disputed with Japan—was likely driven less by diplomatic provocation than by fear: the mainland is now within range of Ukrainian missiles and drones, while the remote islands offered a rare safe venue for televised appearances with ordinary citizens. The provocation to Japan, which has joined sanctions against Russia and supported Ukraine, may have been a convenient side effect.
Japan's strategic opportunity
Rather than lodging diplomatic protests over the visit, Tokyo should be quietly preparing for a post-Putin scenario. Nothing Japan says or does now will influence Putin's stance on the islands. But if his regime were to fall—a transition that would likely involve violence from within the Kremlin or its inner circle—a successor might seek to improve relations with Japan by revisiting the territorial dispute. It is a slim chance, but one worth planning for. The Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs should already have contingency plans for such an opportunity.
The war itself remains a bloody stalemate. Ukraine's long-range strikes have damaged Russian energy infrastructure and military logistics, bringing fear to Moscow and other cities, and Kyiv has reclaimed some territory in the south. Russian casualties each month exceed what recruitment can replace. Yet Ukraine faces a critical shortage of Patriot interceptor missiles, leaving it vulnerable to regular Russian ballistic missile attacks on Kyiv and other urban centers. The global supply of Patriots has been strained by the conflict in Iran, and any supporter of Ukraine—including Japan, which produces Patriots under license—should rush to provide as many as possible.
Ukraine also has its own internal dissent. President Volodymyr Zelenskyy faces a challenge from Mykhailo Federov, a young and popular former defense minister who is campaigning for a general election, despite a wartime legal ban. But Ukraine's democracy can absorb such disagreements, especially when the nation's survival is tied to preserving that very system. In contrast, the first stirrings of dissent inside Russia's tightly controlled dictatorship suggest that Putin's regime may be more fragile than it appears.
No one can predict the timing or manner of a transition in Moscow. But the lesson of history is that such regimes can crack suddenly. For Japan and other Asian nations with unresolved disputes with Russia, the prudent course is to prepare now for a future that may arrive sooner than expected. As Russia's quagmire in Ukraine deepens, the window for strategic foresight is open—and it may not stay open long.
