Islands of Resistance: How Russian regions are trying to resist the abolition of local self-government

The ‘colonial’ case of the Altai Mountains

Although the protests that suddenly flared up in the Altai Republic are largely connected to regional specifics, they are also another episode of local opposition to the municipal reform aimed at dismantling local self-government in Russia and yet another chapter in the regions' resistance to the Kremlin's centralising efforts.

On 12 June, Altai residents partially blocked the road at the Chike-Taman pass, protesting against the municipal reform, which was soon to be approved by the local parliament (El Kurultai). However, spontaneous gatherings by residents had begun earlier, about two weeks prior, and the symbolic action at the pass proved to be a successful informational move. The next day, the organisers and active participants of a very small rally at the pass were charged with administrative offences. Despite this, on 21 June, between 2,500 and 4,000 people took to the streets of Gorno-Altaisk. For a city of 68,000 residents, which has never been known for its democratic or protest traditions, this is a huge number, at 4–6% of the population, and even in terms of the whole republic, it's 1–2% of its population (210,000 people). This is roughly equivalent to what would be a mobilisation of 1.5–3 million people in Russian cities. Moreover, the rally was not limited to calls for the authorities to halt the destruction of the long-standing and decades-old two-tier system of local self-government but had a clear political tone: it demanded the resignation of the governor sent from Moscow, Andrei Turchak, a heavyweight from Moscow, formerly one of the main figures of the United Russia party and Vice-Speaker of the Federation Council, along with the Acting Head of the Government of the Republic, Alexander Prokopyev.

The protesters were supported by members of the El Kurultai from the Communist Party and two deputies from United Russia, who promised to vote against the reform. However, at the parliamentary session on 24 June, Prokopyev was confirmed as prime minister (with 23 votes in favour, against the minimum required 21), and it was announced that the municipal reform law had been adopted. However, the document detailing the results of this crucial vote never appeared on the website of the state assembly, which only stated that the minutes were unavailable due to technical reasons. Therefore, the question of whether the law was actually passed remains open. In the meantime, the residents have already submitted a notification for a new rally, planned for the end of July.

The intense dissatisfaction with the abolition of the system of local self-government, typical of many Russian regions, is heightened in the Altai Republic by the specifics of the local way of life and the republic's prospects as a tourist and recreational zone. A year ago, Turchak, appointed by the Kremlin to Altai, began an active campaign against ‘illegal tourist facilities’, i.e. hotels and recreation centres built in previous decades by local businesses. There is a well-founded belief in the republic that Turchak’s mission is to 'clear the way' for the arrival of Moscow businesses seeking to dominate the region's tourism industry (an even more conspiratorial version claims that Turchak’s main task is also the construction of bunkers for Putin in case of a nuclear conflict or direct confrontation with NATO). Sberbank is already building a ‘tourist city’ in the mountains, and VTB is expected to arrive.Local activists believe that one of the goals of the reform is to amend the regional law (No. 37), which governs the procedure for land allocation for construction.

Thus, the abolition of the system of local self-government in the republic is particularly acutely perceived as the beginning of Moscow's and the 'Varangians'' expansion into the region. The latter are seen not only in Turchak but also in Prokopyev, who came with him, the son of the owner of the large pharmaceutical company 'Evalar' from the neighbouring Altai Krai. For the last 14 years, the 38-year-old Prokopyev had been a deputy in the regional Duma, and as such, is seen as a dual threat: both a messenger from Moscow and an unfriendly neighbour. There are constant fears in the republic about the possibility of being re-annexed to the Altai Krai, which has ten times the population (2.1 million) and a much larger gross regional product (550 billion rubles compared to 56 billion in the republic). From 1937 to 1992, the republic was part of the Krai and only gained its current status in the post-Soviet era.

However, even beyond these 'aggravating circumstances', the dismantling of the local self-government system is a significant blow to the established order and balance of power at both regional and local levels. In the Altai Republic, where around 50% of the population lives in rural areas, rural councils play a key role in governance and the preservation of local identity. The reform strips them of autonomy and control over land and budgetary matters, thus also eroding their political influence. As in other regions, the main losers from the reform are the heads of districts and local deputies, backed by powerful local groups and economic interests at the grassroots level.

Thus, in the case of Altai, the municipal reform becomes a tool of a sort of colonisation, enabling the removal of local elites during the expansion of Moscow's large businesses into the region, particularly with the creation of a federally significant tourist cluster.

The dismantling of local self-government: a protracted reform and a successful rebellion

The constitutional amendments of 2020 were, in many ways, a revision of the decentralised (delegated) power model outlined in the 1993 Russian constitution, albeit in a rather inconsistent manner, especially regarding the idea of local self-government independence. The 2020 amendments aimed to solidify the model of a super-presidential and unitary state while maintaining the democratic facade of the first sections of the basic law, which remained unchanged. As a result, the 2020 version of the Russian constitution is a textbook example of legal trickery: in its first, most important chapter, local self-government has an independent status, not part of the state power system, yet in Chapter 8, devoted to local self-government, it is declared a component of the unified 'public authority' system (Article 133). However, this concept does not exist in the constitution itself, and only in Chapter 4 on presidential powers is it stated that the president 'ensures the coordinated functioning and interaction of the bodies that are part of the unified public authority system' (Article 80). Moreover, Chapter 8 in the new version abolished the mandatory settlement basis for local self-government and limited the rights and powers of local self-government to references to federal laws (which at that time did not yet exist).

In 2021, the Russian authorities began translating these constitutional changes into federal laws, intended to establish the subordinate position of local self-government, making it a one-tier system, i.e., abolishing the 'settlement' level and leaving only the consolidated district level, while also legalising the transition from directly elected heads of districts to candidates nominated by the governor. A corresponding bill was introduced to the Duma on 16 December 2021, and was approved in the first reading on 25 January 2022. However, its potential for conflict, against the backdrop of the war with Ukraine, forced the Kremlin to freeze the process. In the spring of 2022, the second reading was postponed to 2023, and in the spring of 2023, until after the presidential elections.

An attempt to pass the law in autumn 2024 encountered strong resistance. Publicly opposing the amendments were heavyweight figures such as the heads of Bashkortostan, Radiy Khabirov, and Tatarstan, Rustam Minnikhanov, who demanded that regions retain the right to independently decide on the abolition of the two-tier system or its preservation. The State Council of Tatarstan also opposed the reform. As a result, which is highly atypical for contemporary Russia, a key amendment was added to the law, allowing regions ‘with socio-economic, historical, national, and other peculiarities’ the option to retain the lower settlement level. The law was finally adopted only in March 2025, with a transitional period until 2035 for regional adaptation (in the first reading, the transitional period was set until 2028), and came into force on 19 June.

In reality, however, the implementation of the reform began long before the law was passed. Formally, the decision to abolish the municipal level was left for regional consideration, so it had to appear as though it were a decision by the regional authorities to local residents (just as Moscow delegated other unpopular measures to regions – from COVID restrictions to mobilisation activities). In practice, the Kremlin exerted pressure on the regions, and by March 2025, 16 of them had already switched to the one-tier model, without waiting for the final adoption of the law (the press occasionally mentions the figure 20, but four of these are occupied Ukrainian territories). As a result, the number of municipalities decreased from 24,100 in 2008 to 17,700 by the end of 2024. Thus, the Kremlin 'stretched out' the reform, achieving its objectives first in areas where it did not expect significant resistance or where it had strong leverage over the governors.

‘For our native region’: chaotic resistance ‘from below’

However, even in these regions, the reform encountered either loyalist or disorganised resistance 'from below', which, unlike organised opposition, does not generally lead to success.

In April 2024, residents of the Kostroma region, who were participating in the war against Ukraine, called for a delay in the abolition of the settlement level. In May, against the reform in the Pskov region, deputies from the Communist Party and Yabloko spoke out (the latter even attempted to organise local referendums). Similar cases were observed in other regions, though they did not gain widespread attention. Locally, authorities seek to carry out the reorganisation covertly: legally required public hearings on municipal mergers often take place during working hours, their schedules are not publicised, loyal citizens are involved as participants, and regulations are adopted at an astonishing speed. Furthermore, protests remain localised due to the lack of a unified information space and leadership. As a rule, the cause of outrage is the dissolution of a local municipality, and similar incidents in other places evoke little sympathy.

The authorities of the Krasnoyarsk Territory also decided in the spring of 2025 to abolish the majority of existing municipalities, reducing 472 to only 39, with just six of them (instead of 17) retaining the status of urban districts. These plans sparked a wave of protests, predominantly in the areas that were being merged with neighbouring ones. For residents of this vast region, this is a painful issue, as district hospitals, clinics, and other vital infrastructure are located in the district centres. Protests were attended by politically loyal contingents: veterans of the war against Ukraine, Cossacks, municipal officials, and deputies, including from 'United Russia,' according to a report by Riddle Russia. Demonstrations against the local government reform took place in three districts of the region – Taseyevsky, Idrinsky, and Novoselovsky. In the Sukhobuzimsky district, residents organised a bike ride in support of its preservation. In protest, the heads of the abolished municipalities – Sukhobuzimsky, Dudinka, and Sharypovsky – resigned early. In addition to video appeals, petitions, and negative comments on social media directed at the governor, residents of Krasnoyarsk Territory also expressed their discontent in the streets, taking part in the 'Immortal Regiment' marches holding banners reading 'For Our Native District.' Later, law enforcement officers arrested the organiser of this protest, Krasnoyarsk political scientist Alexei Aksyutenko, for seven days. Despite the protests, the reform came into force on 19 June.

In the Ryazan region, citizens turned out en masse for public hearings on the 'voluntary' abolition of municipalities, transforming them into protest meetings. Most participants expressed opposition to the liquidation, but the authorities annulled this decision through the prosecutor's office, citing formal violations committed by the organisers of the hearings themselves, i.e. the local authorities. Shortly after, the editor of a local media outlet, who had opposed the reform and disseminated information about the hearings, was arrested.

In Khakassia, the reform became another round of the struggle between the popular Communist governor, Valentin Konovalov, and his rival, the speaker of the regional parliament from 'United Russia,' Sergey Sokol. The United Russia deputies introduced a bill abolishing the local self-government system in line with the Kremlin's wishes, while Konovalov proposed an alternative bill, largely preserving the system. The deputies approved their version, but Konovalov vetoed it.

Between unitarianism and paternalism

Local self-government not only does not fit into the model of unitary super-presidentialism, but in the Kremlin’s view, it is also associated with a set of specific potential threats. Although local self-government was not a full-fledged level of power in Russia, due to its very weak financial base, it remained, nevertheless, a legitimate and sought-after tool for solving local issues in the eyes of citizens, with certain powers and still relying on electoral procedures with limited control by the Kremlin.

The process of electing hundreds of thousands of municipal deputies (according to estimates by the Dossier Centre, there were around 230,000 such positions in Russia) was practically impossible to control reliably, resulting in municipal power being both a breeding ground for grassroots political activists, especially in cities, and a centre of political legitimacy and local influence for regional elites, who had largely lost their influence at the regional administration level. As Alexander Kynyev writes, the nomenklatura of regional administrations has practically ceased to be the place of consolidation for the regional elite's interests and essentially plays the opposite role of being the 'hand of Moscow.' According to his calculations, not only 55% of Russian governors are now 'varangians,' but among the top regional officials, 'varangians' (people external to the region) now make up about 30% (→ Kynev: A New Start).

The 'protest' potential of local self-government became evident in the late 2010s. In the 2017 elections in Moscow, opposition figures of various kinds won about 200 seats in local councils, which not only gave them a certain 'registration' within the system of power but also potentially created the conditions for nominating an opposition candidate for the mayoral elections. A similar, though on a smaller scale, campaign by activists into power took place in St. Petersburg in 2019. While most municipal elections in the country remained non-competitive, in places where the opposition managed to build a certain organisational potential and set its own agenda, it became a channel for legitimising and advancing it at the lower levels of power.

For example, in the village of Urdoma, which became the epicentre of protests against the creation of a landfill at the Shies station in the Arkhangelsk region, local environmental activists won the elections. In the Pskov region, candidates from the Yabloko party were sometimes elected as district heads. Non-systemic candidates managed to win even relatively large cities (for example, Tambov in 2020) or build strong local coalitions against 'United Russia' and regional authorities. Thus, the level of local self-government remained the most problematic in terms of control and could potentially become a source of significant troubles if central authority weakened. This was where a large part of electoral politics was concentrated, which had already been almost completely suppressed at other levels of government. The abolition of local self-government at the settlement level would eliminate about 99% of elected positions in Russia, radically reducing the space for local political activity, as noted in a review by Riddle Russia.

In peripheral areas and regions where public political opposition was absent, the municipal level, as already mentioned, became a haven for local elites, granting their informal influence a certain formal status. The positions of first-level municipal leaders, their deputies, and the speakers of deputy assemblies are often occupied by representatives of influential local families. As a result, they gain leverage both for lobbying large investment projects (such as the construction and repair of roads, hospitals, or schools) at the district and regional levels and for coordinating these projects with higher authorities if they are of interest to them. From the Kremlin's perspective, in these regions, the municipal level of power appeared as the organisational base for a potential regional elite opposition.

However, cities where the democratic opposition of the late 2010s has, by now, been largely suppressed by the repressions of 2021–2024, hardly resisted the reform. It is noteworthy that the main and most effective resistance came from the leadership of regions that were by no means known for their democratic leanings. A list published in Vedomosti of regions that will be recognised as having 'socio-economic, historical, national, and other characteristics,' and thus exempt from the mandatory transition to a two-tier model, includes Tatarstan, Kabardino-Balkaria, Karachay-Cherkessia, Adygea, Bashkortostan, Kalmykia, Mordovia, Yakutia, and Chechnya. In this group of regions – national republics – the clan-paternalistic system of governance is traditionally strong, and the two-tier model serves as an instrument for including various clans and groups. At the same time, this complex multi-tier system of inclusion is designed to prevent or mitigate splits and conflicts among regional elites, thereby maintaining a higher level of unity and cohesion in opposition to the claims of the federal centre and in negotiations with it.

In most 'non-national' regions, however, the level of cohesion among elites is much lower, and they are more vulnerable to the penetration of 'varangians,' who act as conduits for the 'politics of Moscow' aimed at unifying the governance model. Any protest against such policies, if it arises, is disorganised and fragmented, and is easily suppressed. However, according to the Vedomosti list, regions that are seeking special status to maintain the two-tier model include the Voronezh, Lipetsk, Rostov, Saratov, Sverdlovsk, and Chelyabinsk regions, as well as the annexed Crimea. Lobbying resources here have allowed these regions to build a convincing line of defence, sometimes based on almost comical arguments. For instance, in Voronezh, Governor Alexander Gusev cited the fact that rural officials had reported the movements and numbers of the rebellious Wagner mercenaries in the summer of 2023 as evidence of the region's 'special characteristics' and the need to preserve the two-tier system. On the other hand, the Republic of Altai, as we see, lost its status as a region with 'special characteristics' due to Moscow's high commercial interest in its land and the natural vulnerability of this small, poor region.

The dismantling of local self-government appears to be a natural step in the establishment of a unitary super-presidential state model, relying on unified vertical management structures. Ideally, such a system should be managed by 'mobile managers' sent by the centre to various regions to implement its policies. This view is, at least, close to that of Sergei Kiriyenko, deputy head of the presidential administration, who, after the creation of the 'Governor's School' ten years ago, is now setting up a 'Mayor’s School.' This model maximally facilitates the penetration of federal-level business corporations into the regions, but at the same time, it significantly undermines the fabric of clientelist, patronal autocracy that was characteristic of the earlier stages of the Putin regime. Of all forms of resistance, the most effective is the one that relies on the preserved hierarchical cohesion of local elites.