The Verdict of the Year 1826: A Triumph for the Establishment and a Calamity for the Commons

The elections for the ninth convocation of the State Duma have not yet reached their legal conclusion. The Central Election Commission continues its deliberations, and the final tallies shall be ratified in due course. Nevertheless, the political outcome of this campaign is already well-formed. Upon the processing of 75.31% of the protocols, 'United Russia' commanded 57.48% of the votes by the federal list; the CPRF secured 14.03%, the LDPR 8.75%, and the 'New People' 8.01%. By the dawn of September 21st, 'A Just Russia' had plummeted to 4.99% and, by current accounts, fails to surmount the five-per-cent barrier, thereby forfeiting its share of federal list mandates. Simultaneously, the candidates of the governing party led in more than two hundred of the two hundred and twenty-five single-mandate districts.

Such figures allow us to articulate the principal result of these polls. 'United Russia' does not merely retain its grip upon the State Duma; it possesses every prospect of once more securing a constitutional majority, likely strengthening it beyond the levels of the previous convocation. When but half of the protocols were processed, calculations suggested the party might obtain some 331 mandates, where but 301 are requisite for a constitutional majority. The exact sum may yet shift, but the direction of the current is unmistakable.

From a formal standpoint, we behold an unconditional victory for the party of power. Yet, from a political vantage, the result is far more convoluted. The primary loser here is broader than any single party. It is the Society itself, which, following another electoral cycle, finds itself with dwindling institutional means to influence the political and economic course of the State.

To grasp the magnitude of this occurrence, one need only compare the present ciphers with those of 2021. In that year, 'United Russia' obtained 49.82% by party lists, the CPRF 18.93%, 'A Just Russia' 7.46%, the LDPR 7.55%, and the 'New People' 5.32%. The ruling party secured 324 mandates: 126 by list and 198 in single-mandate districts. Voter turnout stood at 51.68%. Now, the preliminary result of the party of power has ascended by approximately eight percentage points, and turnout has risen to nearly 57%. Meanwhile, the CPRF loses some five points, and 'A Just Russia', with a result of 4.99%, no longer crosses the parliamentary threshold.

Here, we depart from the mere arithmetic of elections and enter the realm of political sociology.

Were one to trust solely the placards of the Central Election Commission, the Russian society has, over the past five years, come to support the existing course with markedly greater vigour. Yet, it is precisely these five years that one would struggle to name a period likely to produce such electoral dynamics.

The Russian economy has slowed precipitously. Industrial production from January to July of this year has declined. Unemployment is on the rise. From the first of January, the primary VAT rate was raised from 20 to 22%, and for businesses under the Simplified Tax System, the VAT exemption threshold was lowered to 20 million rubles of turnover, with further reductions slated for 2027 and 2028. Mere utility services from January to August cost, on average, 11.45% more than in the preceding year. The populace faces a tide of rising taxes, communal payments, medicines, transport, the cost of credit, and a whole suite of daily expenditures. Inflation substantially outstrips the growth of incomes for the greater part of the population. As for the rights to free medicine guaranteed by the Constitution of Russia, it is best not to mention them at all.

Herein lies the first fundamental question regarding these results. By what means does a system, languishing under slowed production, an increased tax burden, rising mandatory expenditures for the populace, a protracted military conflict, and regular strikes upon its infrastructure, produce not a decline, but a sharp increase in support for the party that politically represents this very system?

In the politics of Europe, we observe the converse pattern in these very days. On the 6th of September, in Saxony-Anhalt, a federal state of the German Empire, the CDU—hitherto the leading force of the state government—collapsed from 37.1% to 17.2%, while the opposition 'Alternative for Germany' (AfD) obtained 43.8%. Turnout there was 77.8%. Two weeks later, in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, the CDU of Chancellor Friedrich Merz received a mere 4.9% and found itself, for the first time, on the verge of total expulsion from the state parliament. The AfD secured approximately 38%. The voter there, in a manner entirely customary for a competitive democracy, punished the authority for what it perceives as a deterioration of its own condition.

Russia demonstrates an inverse dependency. The accumulation of socio-economic woes leads not to the weakening of the ruling party's representation in parliament, but to its fortification. To explain this phenomenon solely by the 'particular political culture of the Russians' is far too simplistic. One must examine the architecture of the electoral system itself and the conditions under which political competition occurs.

Let us begin with the admission to the polls.

The federal list of 'Yabloko' was initially registered by the Central Election Commission. Subsequently, by suit of the 'Rodina' party, the Supreme Court annulled this registration on August 10th, and the appellate court upheld the decision on August 17th. The official justifications cited violations of electoral law, including matters of financing and the use of materials in agitation. Consequently, the only party consistently holding a position divergent from the parliamentary consensus on several principled matters found no place for its federal list upon the ballot.

Yet, herein appeared an exceedingly curious political experiment.

The Novgorod region became the sole province where 'Yabloko' was admitted to the elections for the regional parliament by list. And what transpired? After 86.16% of the protocols were processed, the party obtained 5.67% and entered the regional duma. 'United Russia' maintained its first place there with 39.49%. Neither did the State collapse, nor did the governance of the region vanish, nor was the political system rendered paralyzed. Simply, a portion of the citizens gained the opportunity to send their own representatives to parliament.

This Novgorod example is of greater import than a dozen theoretical treatises on stability. It demonstrates that a genuine opposition within parliament is not, in itself, a threat to the State. It is a normal component of its functioning.

The next question concerns the single-mandate districts.

In the opening minutes of the count in the Saratov district No. 164, the Chairman of the State Duma, Vyacheslav Volodin, received 99.08% of the protocols. An even more extreme electoral model exists in Chechnya. In the elections for the head of the republic in 2021, Ramzan Kadyrov obtained 99.7% of the votes. In the current elections, the first published data gave him 97.35% after 2.4% of protocols were processed. The problem here is not even the specific names. The question is different: how competitive can a system be considered wherein the result of a reigning leader or a chief representative of federal authority approaches the proportions of a plebiscite? In real politics, there always exist the dissatisfied, those harmed by decisions, ideological opponents, personal antipathies, and regional conflicts of interest. Results of 85, 95, or 99% inevitably require not admiration, but a political explanation.

The next level is the organization of the voting itself.

A three-day format, remote voting, voting at one's place of residence, home procedures, and 'safe-packets' greatly expand the access of citizens to the polls. This is their obvious advantage. Yet, simultaneously, the system becomes significantly more difficult for independent public scrutiny.

The scale of the Electronic Voting (DEG) is already immense. Through the federal system alone, by the dawn of September 20th, more than 3.36 million people out of 4.03 million registered participants had voted. By the conclusion of the voting, the federal DEG was used by approximately 3.65 million citizens, and in Moscow, through its own electronic system, another 3.45 million voted. We speak of millions of votes existing outside the customary procedure of the physical ballot, the urn, and the direct observation of the count. And it is here that reports of irregularities at ordinary polling stations become especially poignant.

At station No. 62 in Syktyvkar, observers discovered 48 ballots already cast for 'United Russia'. This episode did not remain a mere allegation of the opposition: after an inquiry, the leadership of the commission—the chairman and deputy chairman—were removed, and the ballots were declared invalid. Here, an observer from the CPRF identified the violation and consciously entered into conflict with the election commission, ensuring the circumstances were made public. But why should the most vital process of totaling federal election results depend upon the vigilance of individuals who are, in effect, outsiders? In Perm, at station No. 312, reports circulated of a safe-packet lacking necessary signatures and seals, containing ballots with a one-hundred-per-cent result for 'United Russia'. In total, the CPRF claimed that by the morning of September 19th, reports of obstacles to observers' work arrived from 21 regions and that no fewer than 1,175 of its representatives were denied access to stations, predominantly on formal grounds.

There exists yet another mechanism, which is nearly impossible to describe in a protocol of legal violation, for formally the law may not be broken at all. I speak of administrative and corporate mobilization.

The working day of the first day of voting proves a convenient time for the organized participation of large collectives. The elections saw queues of enterprise workers, mass requests for mobile voting, voting in universities, and other forms of group mobilization. In Syktyvkar, for instance, it was reported that 560 employees of a single enterprise requested to vote outside their district; in Yekaterinburg, journalists recorded a queue of hundreds of workers.

And thus it becomes clearer how a super-stable electoral result is engineered.

It does not necessarily arise from a single, gigantic stuffing of the ballot box, which one might catch by the hand and exhibit upon the television. The modern managed electoral system is far more sophisticated. First, the field of participants is determined. Then, the disparity in media, financial, and organizational capabilities takes effect. Thereafter, the administrative mobilization of a loyal electorate is engaged. Then, the multi-day and electronic voting increases the proportion of those groups who are more easily led to participate in an organized fashion. Simultaneously, the mixed system strengthens the victor through single-mandate districts. And atop all this arise individual local violations—some proven, some alleged, some refuted.

Each element alone does not explain the result. In aggregate, they create a system in which the party of power gains a systemic advantage long before the actual counting of ballots commences.

This is most vividly seen in the arithmetic of the five-per-cent barrier.

By the morning of September 21st, 'A Just Russia' steadily approached the threshold: 5.11%, then 5.06%, then 5.01%, as the proportion of processed protocols increased. According to available data, by the morning of September 21st, the party's result sank to 4.99%. 'A Just Russia' fails to cross the five-per-cent barrier and, by current results, does not participate in the distribution of federal list mandates.

This is the greatest electoral defeat for the party in recent years and one of the most significant outcomes of the present elections. In 2021, 'A Just Russia' obtained 7.46% of the votes and maintained a full parliamentary faction. Now the party is deprived of representation by the federal list due to literally one hundredth of a per cent. The scale of the defeat is determined not only by the loss of over two percentage points but by a qualitative change in status: with a result of 4.99%, it finds itself outside the distribution of list mandates.

At 4.99%, the votes of 'A Just Russia' do not participate in the distribution of 225 list mandates, and the party receives nothing by federal list. Legally, these votes increase the shares of all parties that passed—and the largest of them wins most in absolute number of mandates. With results close to the present, the effective share of 'United Russia' among the votes of parties entering the Duma is approximately 65%. Had 'A Just Russia' crossed the barrier, it would be roughly 61–62%. For 225 list seats, this difference may signify some seven or eight additional deputies for the largest party.

One hundredth of a per cent for one political force may signify several additional seats for another. From the perspective of the law, there is no anomaly here. From the perspective of political representation, an obvious question arises: why may nearly every twentieth voter in the country cast a ballot for a party, yet the result of his will be an increase in the mandate share of its political rivals?

But in the case of 'A Just Russia', we speak not only of the mechanics of mandate distribution. It is vital to understand which specific public opinion remains without federal parliamentary representation. For years, the party occupied the niche of a systemic social demand: fair utilities, affordable medicine, quality education, the protection of pensioners and families, social guarantees. A significant portion of its voters are not advocates for the dismantling of the political system, nor are they a radical protest electorate. They are people who did not wish to vote for the party of power, but simultaneously sought a legal and quite moderate means to demand from the State changes in basic spheres directly linked to the State's constitutional obligations—healthcare, education, social protection, and housing policy.

For this reason, the fall of 'A Just Russia' below the five-per-cent barrier is more perilous than it appears by mere party arithmetic. Nearly five per cent of voters gave a perfectly clear signal: they do not demand the demolition of the system; they demand that the system better fulfil its social obligations. But with a result of 4.99%, this signal is practically not converted into representation by the federal list. Politically, these votes are cast out of the parliamentary discourse. The authority loses not only a few opposition deputies—it loses another channel through which moderate social discontent could be heard and processed within the institutional system. And this is truly dangerous: when a sane, systemic, and non-radical request receives no representation, the discontent itself does not vanish—only the legal mechanism for transmitting it upward disappears.

Another diverting mathematical Sverdlovsk phenomenon: whither did the advantage of the 'New People' vanish?

The dynamics of the vote count in the Sverdlovsk region merit a separate analysis. In the first hours after the closing of the polls, the chief surprise of the regional elections was the 'New People'. After 6.38% of protocols were processed, the party obtained 19.24% of the votes and confidently held second place, leading the CPRF by nearly five percentage points. Almost simultaneously, a most unusual event occurred. The regional branch of the 'New People' withdrew its observers immediately before and during the counting of votes at the stations of Yekaterinburg.

The subsequent electoral trajectory was remarkable. The initial 19.24% gradually transformed into 12.49%. At a moment when the initial count gave it the possibility to claim the status of the second political force in the largest region of the Urals, the natural strategy of the headquarters would have been, on the contrary, to maximally strengthen the observation of every ballot and every final protocol. Instead, a portion of the observers were withdrawn precisely at the stage of counting.

But the primary problem lies not even in electoral mathematics.

The primary problem is in the reason for which society requires a parliament at all.

A parliament is not a decorative appendage to the executive power. Its historical meaning consists precisely in the institutionalization of conflict. In society, there always exist contradicting interests. The employer desires one thing, the worker another. The federal centre and the region view the budget differently. The taxpayer desires less tax pressure, the State desires greater revenues. Military expenditures compete with infrastructural and social ones. The young and the elderly perceive the pension system differently. Moscow and the provinces live in different economic conditions.

All these contradictions cannot be abolished by a decree. They can only be translated into a manageable form. Parliament is that very form. It ought to be a place where public conflict is transformed into the speech of a deputy, an amendment to a law, an inquiry to a minister, a vote against the budget, a parliamentary investigation, and a public dispute. Parliament is the safety valve of the political system. As long as the pressure escapes through it, it does not destroy the boiler.

Therefore, the famous formula that parliament is 'no place for discussions' is dangerous not for its aphoristic quality, but for its political philosophy. Parliament exists precisely for discussion. And not for a decorative exchange of pre-agreed remarks, but for a true collision of interests. A shout in parliament is significantly safer than a shout in the street.

Even a political scandal within parliament is a sign of a functioning feedback system. The authority hears that which it finds unpleasant to hear before the discontent assumes a non-institutional form. For this reason, after the present elections, one cannot be satisfied with a phrase about 'preserving political stability'. We have obtained not stability, but conservation. These are different things.

A stable political system is capable of altering its course without destroying itself. It accepts a signal from below, corrects erroneous decisions, changes ministers, redistributes expenditures, adjusts taxes, and abolishes non-functioning programs. A conservatively sealed system, conversely, long demonstrates an external tranquility precisely because signals of negative feedback practically never reach it.

For the ruling party, such a parliament is exceedingly convenient. For the State—far from always. For society—certainly harmful. The impulse for serious renewal almost always arrives from outside the ruling construct.

It is this external impulse that compels even a very successful authority to renew itself. After the elections of 2026, such impulses become even scarcer.

'United Russia' receives a perfectly rational political signal: all is well in society and economy, nothing needs changing, and the existing course works. Despite the slowing economy, the rising tax burden, the increase in mandatory costs, military risks, and the accumulation of social problems, the voter allegedly not only confirms trust in the party of power but increases it from 49.8% to 57.5%.

Why, in such a situation, change the course? Why conduct a painful redistribution of budgetary priorities? Why revise the tax policy? The political system has just informed itself that society is largely content with all of this.

And this is truly perilous.

By the preliminary results of 2026, the authority wins convincingly. It obtains a parliamentary majority, the power to shape the legislative agenda, to pass the budget, and to enact decisions practically without risk of defeat in the State Duma.

But society simultaneously loses another portion of the mechanisms capable of forcing the authority to change its direction of movement. In this sense, the result may indeed be called the defeat of society. Not because society 'voted incorrectly'. And not because any opposition party would automatically govern the country better. Such a conclusion would be primitive.

The defeat consists in something else.

Following the elections, the political system becomes even less sensitive to demands for renewal. Fewer participants are capable of questioning basic decisions. There is less probability that a change of course will be imposed upon the authority through the parliamentary mechanism before the price of maintaining the former policy becomes too high.

We have not obtained a parliament capable of becoming a place of serious discussion regarding the further arrangement of the country. We have obtained a parliament which, with high probability, will be even more effective in entrenching already adopted decisions. And therefore, the chief question after the elections of 2026 does not sound as: how many mandates did 'United Russia' receive?

The chief question is different: who shall now transmit upward the signal that society requires a change in its economic and political course? As yet, there is no answer to it. And that means that indeed, heavy times may lie ahead.