KYIV — Russian President Vladimir Putin is on a decades-long quest to restore his country to what he views as its rightful place in world affairs, and he is willing to crush anyone who stands in his way. Putin’s regime has ruthlessly consolidated power through murder and oppression, while using unfettered militancy abroad to expand the Kremlin’s reach.
Until recently, the West has largely accommodated Putin, deluding itself that engagement and dialogue would temper his remorseless thirst for control and appetite for conquest. Western inaction, infirmity, and addiction to cheap Russian oil and gas have allowed the dictator to prevail despite a series of wars, assassinations, terror attacks, and a deadly conflict in Ukraine that has killed hundreds of thousands.
The latest high-profile victim of Putin’s bloody repression of political opposition is Alexei Navalny, 47, a nationalist politician and anti-corruption campaigner who led a series of protests against Putin ahead of the 2012 election in Russia.
“Putin kills any potential political threat to his rule — and to a possible democratic future for Russia,” says Oleg Mihailik, a human rights lawyer in Ukraine. Before the 2022 invasion, the lawyer regularly worked with opposition figures and dissidents fleeing from Russia, Belarus, and other lands under Kremlin domination. Now, he primarily focuses on humanitarian aid in liberated territories.
On Friday, the Russian prison service announced that Navalny had been found dead in his cell in a high-security prison above the Arctic Circle in Western Siberia, where he was serving the latest in a series of sentences, after being tried on charges that human rights groups describe as a “sham.”
Navalny is survived by his wife Yulia and two children. Yulia Navalnaya said Friday, “I want Putin and his entire circle [to] know that they’ll bear responsibility for what they did with our country and my family and my husband.”
A spokesperson for the family said they would issue no additional comment while Navalny’s lawyer travels to Siberia to investigate. Russian authorities say the cause of death was a blood clot, but this has not been independently verified.
“Let’s make no mistake, Putin assassinated Navalny. He did so because Navalny was brave enough to stand up to Putin. He did so because Navalny offered the Russian people an alternative to kleptocracy and repression. This is a tragic day for Navalny’s family but also for Russia,” wrote Bill Browder, a financier-turned-activist responsible for the passage of landmark anti-Putin legislation in the U.S.
Called the Magnitsky Act, it individually sanctioned members of Putin’s inner circle for their involvement in the 2009 arrest, torture, and murder of Sergei Magnitsky, a tax advisor who worked with Browder in exposing high-level corruption.
Navalny also ran afoul of the authorities over his anti-corruption efforts. He first came to national prominence in 2008, when as an activist investor in multiple oil and gas companies, he led a crusade against bribery and corruption by trying to force companies to publicly disclose their financial records. By 2011, he had established a non-profit called the Anti-Corruption Foundation (ACF).
In the months leading up to Russia’s March 2012 election — in which Putin was set to win an unprecedented third term by flagrantly exploiting a constitutional loophole — Navalny became a key figure in mass protests in Moscow against the return of the former KGB officer.
There was cause for fear among those who joined the protesters. Over the course of his 24-year career at the highest levels of Russian leadership, Putin has ruthlessly eliminated critics and opponents of his regime.
As one might expect from a former KGB agent who served as a liaison with East Germany’s Stasi secret police in the 1980s, very few of the misfortunes that have befallen his enemies can be tied to Putin directly. Like Navalny, most of those who oppose Putin have died suddenly under murky circumstances.
When Yeltsin appointed Putin prime minister in 1999, it was in the hopes of finding a silovik — or strongman from within the security state — who could keep the resurgent communist party at bay while strengthening Russia’s nascent liberal democracy and market reforms.
Russia in the late 90s was beset by economic chaos, corruption, and security crises. Chechen militants were clashing with Russian forces in border areas, and had backed a separatist movement in Dagestan. Hardliners within the security services wanted to reassert control over the region, despite Yeltsin’s continued promises that there would be no new war in Chechnya; the first, ending in 1996, had been a disaster.
In August 1999, only a month after Putin became prime minister, Russia was rocked by a series of bombings targeting apartment blocks in Moscow, Dagestan, and Rostov that killed hundreds and wounded thousands. Three bombs were also discovered and defused before detonation.
Within weeks of the first bombing of an apartment building, the previously obscure bureaucrat Putin had become the plain-speaking commander-in-chief in a War on Terrorism, promising to “wipe out” Russia’s enemies in televised meetings with military commanders in the field.
His popularity soared.
By December, Putin became acting president, taking over as Yeltsin’s hand-picked successor.
In May 2000, when Russia held its first post-Yeltsin presidential election, acting-President Putin won easily. It was arguably the first peaceful transition of power in Russian history.
But skeptics immediately began asking questions about whether Chechen terrorists were actually behind the apartment bombings. Some suspected that the Russian security services had carried out false-flag attacks to bolster the candidacy of their chosen man: Putin.
Such a line of thinking was not without merit. On Sept. 23, 2000, residents of an apartment building in Ryazan, in central Russia, had reported suspicious men carrying sacks into the basement of their building. When police arrived, they discovered what appeared to be 300 pounds of explosives with a detonator and timer attached.
The device was defused by the local bomb squad, the head of which said the substance in the sacks had tested positive as RDX, a military-grade explosive. Local officials praised the residents and police for their vigilance in preventing a tragedy.
Descriptions of the suspects and their car were made public, and two men were quickly arrested. But there was a problem.
The suspects produced IDs showing that they were members of the Federal Security Service, or FSB, the primary successor agency to the KGB. After local authorities made phone calls to Moscow to verify that the men worked for the FSB, the suspects were released.
Later that night, Putin unleashed a devastating air campaign against Grozny, the capital of Chechnya.
The next day, FSB director Nikolai Patrushev brushed aside the incident in Ryazan as a “training exercise” that had never posed a risk to the public. The FSB said that the sacks had contained sugar, not explosives.
The wave of apartment building bombings attributed to Chechen terrorists stopped in the immediate aftermath of the Ryazan incident, but the questions started. In the early years of Putin’s presidency, Russian news media was still freewheeling and inquisitive. Investigative journalists immediately began to find flaws in the government’s story.
Official inquiries soon followed. Like the media, in the early 2000s, the State Duma — Russia’s lower legislative house created in 1994 — had not yet been brought to heel under Putin’s hand. Legislators and opposition parties remained chaotic-but-energetic participants in state governance.
Fears that the FSB was murdering Russian citizens in staged bombings prompted former Soviet dissident-turned-legislator Sergei Kovalev to form a public commission of inquiry in 2002.
It was now, with the Kovalev Commission, that Putin’s public opponents began to die. On April 17, 2003, Sergei Yushenkov, the commission’s vice chairman, was shot to death outside of his apartment in Moscow.
Four men were arrested, and based on the testimony of one of the suspects, the “mastermind” was found guilty. He maintained his innocence and tried to kill himself, before being transferred to Moscow’s notorious Lefortovo Prison.
However, FSB Lt. Col. Alexander Litvinenko soon went public with assertions that Yushenkov was killed because of his investigation into the apartment bombings. Litvinenko would later defect to the U.K. after publicly calling out corruption and links between organized crime, security officials, and the powerful oligarchs who rule Russia’s economy; he died on Nov. 23, 2006 — slain with polonium-laced tea, in the first-known case of assassination by radiation poisoning.
The list of Putin critics who have been murdered, died suddenly, or have nearly died is long: Lawmaker Yuri Shchekochikhin, felled by a “mystery illness” on July 3, 2003 — only days before he was set to travel to the U.S. and meet with FBI officials to report on corruption in the FSB; investigative journalist Anna Politkovskaya, shot by contract killers on Oct. 7, 2006; lawyer Stanislav Markelov and journalist Anastasia Baburova, shot to death outside a press conference on Jan. 19, 2009; Natalia Estemirova, a human rights activist kidnapped and murdered in Chechnya on July 15, 2009; whistleblower Alexander Perepilichny, whose sudden death while jogging in London on Nov. 10, 2012 has been called into question; oligarch Boris Berezovsky, dead of a mysterious suicide on March 23, 2013; physicist Boris Nemtsov, shot to death in Moscow on Feb. 27, 2015; former spy Sergei Skripal and his daughter Yulia, who barely survived being poisoned with the nerve agent Novichok on March 4, 2018; Yevgeny Prigozhin, who died in a plane crash on Aug. 23, 2023, after mutinying against the Kremlin over its handling of the war in Ukraine. There are dozens more lower-profile victims.
Navalny can now be added to the list. In many ways, he was one of the more critical threats Putin has faced during his rule. The 2011 protests that sealed Navalny’s status as a viable opposition figure in Russia were particularly galling to Putin, who viewed them as a continuation of the United States’ policy to undermine his rule.
“Our people do not want the situation in Russia to develop like it was in Kyrgyzstan or not so long ago in Ukraine,” Putin said at the time, referring to political protests that had resulted in Moscow-aligned politicians losing power.
To Putin, the protests were another attempt at a “color revolution,” part of a broader campaign of regime change pursued by Washington in Iraq, Libya, and elsewhere.
Navalny was arrested multiple times during the protests from 2012 onwards, often facing trial on drummed-up charges of financial misconduct. But he continued his political activism, organizing rallies, creating a political party, participating in elections, and producing documentaries critical of Putin and his cronies’ kleptocracy.
Despite numerous attacks — even twice being doused with a bright green antiseptic dye — and extensive bureaucratic interference aimed at keeping him out of politics, Navalny persisted. His ACF was branded a “foreign agent” and banned in Russia in 2019; he even survived an assassination attempt by poison on Aug. 20, 2020.
After being evacuated to Berlin for treatment and recovery, in January 2021 Navalny made the fateful decision to return to Russia to carry on the fight against Putin. His plane was diverted and he was arrested upon landing. Navalny spent the rest of his life in prison.
“He was a very brave man to return back to a totalitarian country, knowing he had no chance to survive there, and having every chance to become a powerful Russian opposition leader from abroad,” human rights lawyer Mihailik says — and he would know. In 2019 Mihailik was shot in the chest by a sniper, in an assassination attempt he believes was tied to his own anti-corruption activism. Mihailik survived, but the perpetrators were never caught.
Outside of Russia, public outrage at Navalny’s death has been swift.
“Putin tried and failed to murder Navalny quickly and secretly with poison, and now he has murdered him slowly and publicly in prison. He was killed for exposing Putin and his mafia as the crooks and thieves they are. My thoughts are with the brave man’s wife and children,” wrote Garry Kasparov, the former chess master turned anti-Putin critic.
With the death of Navalny, there are few prominent figures who have the gravitas and influence to rally significant public opposition to Putin: The closest may be the businessman Mikhail Khodorkovsky — once Russia’s richest man — who has lived in exile since 2013 and has been called the Kremlin’s leading “critic-in-exile.”
But Khodorkovsky is not in Russia. While Navalny’s courage and tenacity in returning home and risking a martyr’s fate are undeniable, it is an open question whether his death will have a lasting effect on Putin’s regime.
“This creates a significant political problem for the regime — they will have to deal with Navalny’s legacy,” observed Tatiana Stanovaya, founder of the Russian politics-focused R.Politik and a senior fellow at the Carnegie Russia Eurasia Center. “I have no doubt that very soon we’ll witness a significant wave of anti-Navalny repressions, raids after indignations in social networks, criminal cases, and arrests.”
Putin’s rule has now endured through five U.S. presidents — Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, Barack Obama, Donald Trump, and Joe Biden — and each administration found ways to appease, placate, or ignore Putin as he expanded his power internationally. Sanctions and strong words have done little to prevent him from achieving his goals.
Despite Biden’s 2021 promise that Putin would face “devastating consequences” if anything happened to Navalny, it isn’t clear that the U.S. has any more mechanisms to use as leverage against the Kremlin than it has already employed after the invasion of Ukraine.
For almost a quarter of a century, Putin has been responsible for the assassination of dissidents and political opponents at home and abroad; the systematic and deliberate targeting of civilians, aid workers, and journalists in several war zones; the brutal suppression of independence movements inside Russia; and the illegal annexation of territory in neighboring countries.
Although the International Criminal Court issued an arrest warrant for Putin over war crimes last year, and he has been branded an international pariah, the man who rules Russia may never be held to account for his atrocities — including his complicity in silencing Alexei Navalny.









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SACHA LECCA




Donald Trump speaks in front of the American flag at the White House, on May 12, 2026.
It’s the Corruption, Stupid
Let’s say it plainly: There has never been a president as corrupt as Donald Trump. There is no close second in our history.
Take two days in May as Exhibit A. Americans just found out that in the first quarter of this year, Trump’s stock portfolio made 3,600 trades — an average of nearly 60 a day. This is a rapacious pace that would make a day trader on meth blush. Many of these appear suspiciously timed to benefit from actions approved by the president himself. For example, his Nvidia stock surged after Trump announced the company would be permitted to sell its cutting-edge AI chips to China. Similar suspiciously well-timed calls were made ahead of big government moves involving other companies, from Intel to Palantir to Boeing. The Trump Organization says all trades are made by a third-party investment advisor. If so, they appear to be psychic.
But the apparent insider trading scam being run from within the Oval Office is small change — merely millions of dollars — compared to the self-dealing plunder of $1.8 billion tax-payer dollars being pushed through the DOJ and IRS.
There’s never been a sitting president who sued his own government for $10 billion. That’s because it’s absurdly corrupt. But that’s what Donald Trump did, arguing he had suffered damages from prosecutions pursued before he was reelected. Trump, like many of his supporters, persistently confuses persecution with prosecution.
The judge who heard the case convened an independent panel to review the suit, suspecting it might be a scam. Before the case could be dismissed, Acting Attorney General Todd Blanche — who had previously served as Trump’s personal lawyer — declared that the bogus suit would be preemptively settled, not for $10 billion, but for the symbolic sum of $1.776 billion, which Trump said will be distributed to persecuted political allies.
This is a shakedown. The president is compelling a Justice Department he controls to redirect money from taxpayers — that’s you — to his most fervent supporters. This slush fund will set off a cash grab among MAGA lawyers and be used to reward partisan fanatics who attacked the U.S. Capitol — and police officers — on his behalf.
If that wasn’t enough of a blatantly illegal use of presidential power, it was revealed that the “settlement” deal included a pledge signed by the acting attorney general that would ensure — in the hysterical all caps of a Trump tweet — that the government would be “FOREVER BARRED and PRECLUDED from prosecuting or pursuing” any tax claims, audits or related prosecutions against Trump, his family or their businesses. This is an attempt to get a permanent get-out-of-jail-free card for the Trump family — a license to steal.
All of this is insane. All of it is unethical, and much of it is illegal and impeachable — but our system was not designed to deal with a shamelessly self-dealing president, a spineless Republican Congress, and a complaint conservative Supreme Court that has refused to enforce the emoluments clause of the Constitution and ruled that Trump has immunity for actions he takes as president. That ruling may prove to be the most consequential — and most corrosive — act of judicial abdication in American history. Against this partisan-group think, individual acts of courage matter. So kudos to the top lawyer at the Treasury Department, Brian Morrissey, who at least had the integrity to resign rather than oversee this tax-payer funded plunder.
Just to close out the corruption-palooza, Trump announced that he would endorse the Lone Star State poster-boy of corruption, Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton, in his primary against incumbent GOP Senator John Cornyn. Paxton’s scandals include a truly buffoonish array of fraud and bribery charges that resulted in him nearly being impeached by the state legislature. But corruption is a feature, not a bug, of Trumpland.All this smacks of late Rome and you’d be forgiven for half expecting Trump will next appoint a horse to an open Cabinet position, with Republicans rationalizing the need for more equine representation. It is no more absurd that the cavalcade of Trump appointees refusing to say that Biden won the 2020 election during their confirmation hearings in the Senate. The decision to parrot unreality for partisan gain defines deviancy down.
But in the search for something hopeful to hold onto in dark times, you can find some comfort in the fact that corruption is often the thing that turns the tide against authoritarian-adjacent administrations. And there is evidence this is happening.
Trump’s billions in self-enrichment, his reflexive twisting of U.S. policy to sell out long-term national interests and enduring values, comes at a moment when nearly half of Americans say they are feeling extremely anxious about their own financial situation.
That anxiety is driven by the widening gap between Main Street and Wall Street, a gap set on fire by a trade war and a real war Trump started, which has no end in sight but promises to further raise energy prices, fertilizer prices, and strangle the global economy. While CEOs embrace the transactional nature of this president, kissing his ring and offering vigs, the situation is grim if you’re not lining up at the Trump trough. At a time when the super-rich are getting richer, everyone else is told to go to hell by the man in the White House.
These are precisely the kinds of conditions that turn people against an aging, autocratic president who shows contempt for the very people who put him in office. It is not just that Trump’s approval numbers have plummeted to the point where two-thirds of Americans disapprove of the job he is doing. It is that Trump, for the first time, is opposed by a majority of non-college-educated white voters — a.k.a. his base — and they feel betrayed because Trump is raking in billions of dollars while they struggle to pay rent and buy groceries. Trump has dismissed and discounted their concerns, turning a blind eye to the anger about rising costs that carried him back into the presidency.
Trump’s aim is to make his thievery so blatant that we collectively become numb to it and disfigure our democracy in the process. Once upon a time conservatives warned about the dangers of “crony capitalism” and corruption. Now they are silent and complicit. It is the temporary triumph of partisanship over principle. Patriotism demands that we reassert the basic American idea that no man is above the law and that our presidents are not kings.