KGB Mutations After the USSR’s Collapse: How the Chekists Took Over Russia

From economic reforms to the formation of elites, the hidden influence of former KGB officers is evident everywhere. Their legacy continues to shape the country’s political and economic system to this day.

The Chekist culture and KGB personnel laid the foundation of modern Russia. The dominant role of the KGB in perestroika and the "shock therapy" of the 1990s is undeniable. Just like the continuity of the power elites from Andropov to Putin. The KGB did not disappear but became the invisible architect of "independent" Russia—a kind of "deep state," continuing the work of Soviet intelligence services under new facades.

Security Forces and Economic Reforms: The Unexpected Face of the KGB

When discussing Soviet economic reforms of the late 1980s, the KGB is rarely mentioned. The reputation of the "organs"—surveillance, arrests, political cases—seems far removed from discussions about the market and privatization. Nevertheless, even in the late Soviet era, ideas of economic liberalization were brewing within the KGB. Moreover, the Chekists participated in the analysis and preparation of reforms, attempting to steer economic transformation in a controlled direction.

As early as 1967, when Yuri Andropov took over the KGB, he was concerned with the stagnation of the Soviet economy. When he became General Secretary in 1982, he did not have time to implement large-scale transformations but initiated important analytical projects. Under the KGB's auspices, research groups were created to study the experiences of Western countries and find ways to revitalize the Soviet economy. Andropov was known for his technocratic approach: he ordered the collection of truthful information about the real state of affairs, bypassing the embellished reports of party officials. It is no coincidence that in 1983, under Andropov, the KGB presented a report on the crisis state of the economy, which shocked the Politburo with its honesty.

By the late 1980s, during perestroika, many KGB officers publicly expressed support for Mikhail Gorbachev's reform course. Within the Committee, a kind of "mini-perestroika" began: priorities were reconsidered, past mistakes were acknowledged, and a new emphasis was placed on openness. Articles discussing the necessity of economic change were published in the classified departmental journal KGB USSR Collection between 1987 and 1990. These texts were astonishing for a system that was essentially a concentration camp: high-ranking officers argued that coercive methods alone were insufficient to protect the state—understanding economic processes was also necessary. For example, as early as 1987, one issue of KGB Collection noted that Chekists should "not get carried away with numerical indicators" and move away from formalism—that is, they should examine the real state of society and the economy.

Some articles directly echoed the spirit of reforms: they called for supporting grassroots initiatives and efficiency indicators, respecting legality and citizens' rights, and working more transparently. Of course, all this was written from a socialist perspective—the discussion was about renewing socialism, not about capitalism. Nevertheless, economic transformations were being discussed even at Lubyanka. Moreover, KGB analysts prepared recommendations—such as how to control the introduction of cooperatives (the first private enterprises allowed from 1988) or how to attract foreign investment without compromising national security. One 1990 article in KGB Collection even stated that the agency's task was to create an attractive image of the Soviet Union for foreign partners and investors. Quite an unusual goal for a secret service accustomed to seeing foreigners primarily as spies. But times were changing, and the KGB was striving to change with them.

Thus, by the time the USSR collapsed, some KGB officers already understood that economic liberalization was inevitable. Some Chekists, who could be called "moderate reformers," saw their mission not in sabotaging the new economic order but in leading and directing it. They reasoned: since the market was coming anyway, it was better to take it under control than to leave it to chaotic forces. This mindset laid the foundation for the active role of former intelligence officers in the upcoming reforms of the early 1990s.

Secret Advisors of Reform: The KGB and Gaidar’s Team

When radical economic reforms began in 1991–1992—price liberalization, privatization, shock therapy—a team of young economists led by Yegor Gaidar and Anatoly Chubais was at the helm. They are often called "Gaidar’s reformers"—energetic liberals who attempted to build a Western-style market economy in Russia. From the outside, it might have seemed that these people were the complete opposite of the old KGB guard. However, paradoxically, there was a hidden connection between the "young reformers" and the "old Lubyanka."

As early as the mid-1980s, under Andropov, the KGB began covertly preparing personnel for future transformations. Rumors circulated (and were later confirmed) that Andropov had created analytical groups to develop a modernization plan for the USSR, involving promising economists, sociologists, and managers. For example, Andropov’s advisor, Major General Nikolai Leonov, recalled that Andropov closely followed the work of progressive economists. Promising young specialists were sent abroad for internships to study the capitalist system from within. It is known that in the 1980s, a group of Soviet economists underwent internships at the International Institute for Applied Systems Analysis (IIASA) in Austria—a "neutral territory" where scholars from the East and West met. According to some reports, the KGB personally selected candidates for these foreign internships, seeking to cultivate personnel capable of implementing economic reforms when political conditions matured.

This strategy even had a code name among insiders—the Red Star Corporation Plan. The idea was that the USSR would gradually transition to state capitalism—a regulated market economy—while key positions remained under the control of the "corporation"—a network of individuals linked to the KGB. One scenario considered was that if the Communist Party’s power collapsed, the KGB should survive, mutate, take on a different form, and invisibly govern the country during the transition period.

Science fiction? But in 2012, economist Mikhail Delyagin (a former government official) publicly claimed that such a plan did exist, calling it a "KGB special operation." One participant in Andropov’s analytical groups was Sergei Kugushev—an interesting figure who was simultaneously part of Gaidar and Chubais’s circle of young economists. Kugushev later stated directly:

"Gaidar, Chubais, Kudrin, and other reformers were merely instruments of powerful forces created by Andropov."

In other words, at least some liberal economists were, if not allies, then protégés of the KGB.

In the early years of Yeltsin’s Russia, many former Chekists assumed important but semi-shadowed roles alongside the new reformers. Officially, the Committee for State Security was disbanded, and several new structures were created in its place (the Foreign Intelligence Service, the Ministry of Security, later the FSB). However, the people remained the same. Every new minister, every government agency had its own security services overseer—this Soviet practice did not disappear.

A telling example: Yegor Gaidar was a brilliant economist but came from a purely intellectual family (his grandfather was the famous writer Arkady Gaidar). In 1991, at just 35 years old, with no experience in government or security structures, he suddenly became Vice Prime Minister, effectively in charge of the national economy during a crisis. Clearly, without "protection" and support from influential groups, his team would not have survived. This support came from the moderately progressive KGB circles formed under Gorbachev. They understood the necessity of reforms and preferred to cooperate with Gaidar to guide the process from within rather than sabotage it. Everything, from the pace of privatization to the admission of foreign capital and the ruble’s convertibility, was coordinated with intelligence figures. There was always an inconspicuous "colonel" near the reformers’ offices who said:

"Sell this factory—but not that one, it’s strategic."

Or:

"Deregulate prices, but keep an eye on defense enterprises."

Moreover, a critically important task was to prevent social riots during the "shock therapy." In January 1992, prices soared multiple times, and many were shocked by impoverishment. Who managed to keep the country from exploding? To a large extent – the security services, which monitored protest sentiments and neutralized dangers. The former KGB, which by then had become the Ministry of Security, tracked the situation at enterprises and informed the government. If strikes were brewing somewhere, force resources were engaged – from persuading directors to the efforts of the police and agents of influence, to prevent an organized rebellion. In fact, it was precisely the "invisible allies" from the security services that helped the reformers navigate the most painful period.

Of course, not everyone in the Chekist environment was happy with the liberal innovations. Many old cadres hated Gaidar and Chubais, considering them "traitors" and "agents of the West." But it was thanks to the support of part of the influential security officials that Yeltsin's team managed to gain a foothold. Interestingly, by 1996, most of the prominent liberal reformers had been pushed away from power, and more pragmatic figures took their place. Perhaps this happened because the "mission was accomplished" – the market foundations were laid, and from then on, "trusted cadres" had to manage them. These "cadres" often consisted precisely of people from the security structures or those closely connected with them.

Thus, the KGB cannot be viewed as a monolithic reactionary force that stood in the way of reforms. On the contrary, there was a group of "progressive Chekists" who influenced the course of Gaidar's transformations – some as advisors, others ensuring security and political support. And although the people knew Gaidar and Chubais by sight, behind the scenes, standing next to them were shadowy figures who largely determined the boundaries of the "permissible."

From Andropov to Putin: The Continuity of the Chekist Elite

"Cadres decide everything" – this Stalinist phrase perfectly describes the essence of the continuity between the Soviet KGB and the modern Russian elite. It is enough to look at the biographies of the people who have been steering Russia for the last twenty years. Putin – a KGB officer since the 1970s, worked in intelligence. The Secretary of the Security Council, Nikolai Patrushev – also a career Chekist. The head of the Foreign Intelligence Service, Sergey Naryshkin – a graduate of the Higher School of the KGB. The list goes on: key figures of modern power directly come from the KGB or related structures. This is no coincidence but the result of a long-term strategy whose roots go back to the Andropov era.

Yuri Andropov headed the KGB for 15 years (1967–1982) and during this time managed to cultivate an entire generation of loyal and qualified personnel. He focused on educated officers, attracting young people with good education, technical knowledge, and foreign language skills to the agency. Under him, the KGB became more intellectual (as much as a repressive apparatus can be): an analytical service emerged, training at the Red Banner Institute (the KGB academy) improved. Andropov's ideology combined strict loyalty to the system with the understanding that to preserve this system, it had to be renewed and rid of excesses. For example, Andropov hated showmanship and corruption: he supported exposing bribe-takers, though selectively (mainly those who interfered with the cause). He also understood the importance of technology and science – under him, the KGB actively engaged in industrial espionage to catch up in lagging industries while simultaneously overseeing closed research institutes conducting advanced developments.

When Andropov became General Secretary in 1982, he brought with him young technocrats, many of whom had previously cooperated with the KGB. It is believed that Andropov supported the advancement of Mikhail Gorbachev (although Gorbachev belonged more to the party apparatus). Influential "Andropov economists" – such as Abel Aganbegyan, Georgy Arbatov (director of the Institute for the USA and Canada, closely linked to the KGB), and Yevgeny Primakov – later became major figures in post-Soviet Russia. Primakov, for instance, although not formally a KGB officer, closely interacted with intelligence, headed the Institute of World Economy in the 1980s. In the 1990s, he would lead the Foreign Intelligence Service and later become Prime Minister (one of the most successful prime ministers of the late Yeltsin period). This is an example of an "Andropov cadre" who rose to the pinnacle of Russian power.

But the most important thing was that Andropov had a management philosophy that was passed down to his protégés. This philosophy can be roughly described as:
"Keep everything under control, respond to challenges flexibly, but never let go of power."

People like Putin and Patrushev – the new generation who began their service in the 1970s – inherited both pride in belonging to the "state security elite" and the conviction that only they know how to properly govern the country. After the turbulent 1990s, when, in their view, the country was temporarily seized by "traders and thieves," the Chekist elite decided to take revenge and restore order in their own way.

In 1999, when Putin was brought to power, a mass promotion of his former colleagues, KGB classmates, and young FSB officers to key positions began. The "Lubyanka corporation" or "the office" took power into its own hands.

In fact, with the change of leadership, there was a massive rotation of elites: the place of "party oligarchs" and "democratic reformers" was taken by the "siloviki." And these siloviki were not just army generals – many had precisely the KGB background. Apart from those already mentioned, we can recall: Minister of Defense Sergey Ivanov (formerly a KGB colonel), head of the presidential administration in the 2000s Viktor Ivanov (KGB), head of the state corporation "Rostec" Sergey Chemezov (served in the KGB in East Germany with Putin), major businessmen close to power – Gennady Timchenko, Yuri Kovalchuk – were all somehow connected with the KGB/FSB (Timchenko started in the Soviet Ministry of Foreign Trade, which was under KGB supervision; Kovalchuk worked in institutes that closely collaborated with the Chekists).

The ideology of these people is deeply imbued with the Chekist worldview.

What does this mean in practice? It means that internal threats are treated as seriously as external enemies – any opposition is automatically accused of "subversive activity," persecuted, and destroyed.

"Media and public organizations must be kept under surveillance to prevent 'the system from rotting from within'" – a classic KGB thesis.

State interests are always placed above private ones – even if, in words, the Chekists promote a market economy, in practice, big business is obliged to act in line with state objectives or at least not contradict them. Decisions are made by a narrow circle of people, behind closed doors, in the traditions of intelligence agencies, where information is given on a "need-to-know" basis. Finally, there is strong corporate solidarity among Chekists, following the principle: "We don't betray our own" – security officials are practically above the law, and scandals rarely spill into the public domain.

It can be said that the modern Russian (Chekist) elites continue the line started by Andropov: combining elements of modernization with strengthening the security apparatus. Simply put, their strategy for Russia's development is a strong state relying on security structures, plus the use of market mechanisms to reinforce state power. Democracy, human rights, independent business – all of this is considered secondary, unnecessary, harmful, and subject to restriction if it interferes with the first two goals. In this sense, the spirit of the KGB of the 1980s still lingers in the corridors of Russian power.

The direct continuity of the security services is also symbolically evident.

If in the 1990s, everyone seemed to shamefully try to distance themselves from the Soviet KGB, and the FSB did not publicly emphasize this connection in any way, then with Putin’s rise to power, the FSB suddenly began to proudly talk about its Chekist past and its ties to the KGB.

In Putin’s office, there was a portrait of Andropov. In Moscow, there were even plans to return the monument to Dzerzhinsky (the founder of the Cheka) to Lubyanka Square. The speeches of high-ranking officials began to include notes of respect for "veterans of the organs." All of this deliberately makes it clear: Putin’s power considers itself the heir to the traditions of the KGB – of course, with the caveat, “we are no longer that repressive machine, we have modernized.” But in fact, the Chekists' methods remained the same, only the technology became more advanced.

Chekists in the Shadow of the Market: How Former Agents Became Oligarchs

Why, after the collapse of socialism, did former KGB officers end up among the main beneficiaries of market reforms? The answer partly follows from everything mentioned above: they prepared for it, they wrote the script, they implemented it, they controlled the situation.

Let’s take a closer look at the phenomenon of "Chekist capitalism" in the 1990s.

When state property was rapidly transitioning into private hands, it turned out that these "private hands" were often the hands of former party officials, Komsomol members, and Chekists. There was no way for new businessmen to appear out of nowhere – all the country's wealth formally belonged to the state, and only the nomenklatura had access to it. The KGB was a privileged corporation within the nomenklatura, possessing information and connections throughout the USSR (and abroad). Therefore, as soon as the opportunity arose, enterprising officers quickly adapted and converted their advantages into property and money.

Even in the late USSR, the KGB actively "supervised" the shadow economy. On one hand, the agency fought against illegal entrepreneurship and underground manufacturers. On the other hand, they sometimes used elements of the market for their own purposes. It is known that the KGB and the Ministry of Internal Affairs created front cooperatives and firms for operational games, gaining access to scarce goods and foreign currency. There were cases where Chekists patronized some semi-legal projects even under socialism – of course, with approval from above. Thus, some employees gained valuable experience working in the "black market" even before 1991.

After the collapse of the USSR and the liquidation of the Communist Party, the old system of values crumbled. Many KGB officers were left without clear guidelines: should they serve the new state, which paid pennies, or seek new paths for self-realization?

Thousands of former Chekists in the 1990s chose the path of business – from small to large. Some created private security companies and sold security services – demand skyrocketed since criminal showdowns became a part of life. Some went into banking – providing financial intelligence, collecting debts, establishing "connections." And some directly engaged in commerce: trading oil, metals, and imported goods. Thanks to their contacts and knowledge of the situation, they could outmaneuver their competitors among "honest entrepreneurs." For example, a former intelligence officer knew how to negotiate abroad and set up accounts, while a former counterintelligence officer had a network of trusted individuals in the regions who would warn him about upcoming decrees or inspections.

Privatization in the 1990s was a separate chapter in the involvement of Chekists. During voucher privatization (1992–1994), millions of ordinary citizens received vouchers but had neither the knowledge nor the means to use them properly – something well understood by those who designed the system.

The population's financial illiteracy allowed savvy businessmen to quickly buy up these vouchers for pennies. Among those involved in buying them were many former KGB, Ministry of Internal Affairs, and army officers – they often operated through networks and used administrative resources. Then came the loans-for-shares auctions of 1995–1996, when giants like oil companies fell into private hands.

Who organized these schemes?

On one side, government officials; on the other, businessmen close to power (the names of the oligarchs are well known: Khodorkovsky, Berezovsky, Potanin, etc.). But behind them stood teams of advisors and security personnel with serious backgrounds. For example, Boris Berezovsky rose to prominence because he had the support of influential people in the Kremlin and a powerful security service staffed with former intelligence officers. One of his closest associates was Alexander Korzhakov, a former bodyguard of Yeltsin, a KGB colonel who led the Presidential Security Service from 1993 to 1996 and wielded enormous influence. Korzhakov, although he later fell out with Berezovsky, initially played a role in his rise, covering his operations with the automotive industry and banks.

Another example is Filipp Bobkov, a legendary KGB general who led the 5th (ideological) department for many years and suppressed dissidents. After being dismissed in 1991, Bobkov did not retire but became the right-hand man of media magnate Vladimir Gusinsky. Gusinsky built a major business (a bank, the NTV television channel, newspapers), and Bobkov headed his analytical service. Essentially, the general led a "private KGB" within Gusinsky’s business empire. Bobkov brought with him an entire team of former officers. These people handled security, political connections, and even influenced the media empire’s direction. As a result, Gusinsky received powerful protection and insider information, while Bobkov gained influence and, of course, financial benefits. Bobkov’s biography is telling: "from serving the Communist Party, he transitioned to serving major oligarchs," as noted by Forbes magazine. And this was not an exception but rather the rule: "The market and business made yesterday's Komsomol members, communists, and Chekists into the new masters of life."

In addition to protection and information, the Chekists had another competitive advantage – access to the USSR’s financial resources, which had been hidden or transferred abroad. It is no secret that on the eve of the USSR’s collapse, the party and state elite were stashing away funds: gold, foreign currency, and accounts in Swiss banks. The operation to secretly withdraw assets was carried out by foreign intelligence and KGB officers – who else could have executed it so covertly? After 1991, part of these "stashes" resurfaced in the hands of private structures founded by former officers. Of course, there is no documentary evidence. But indirect signs point to it: suddenly created banks with solid capital, controlled by "unknown shareholders" – all of this emerged as a result of the privatization of the "party’s gold." The most well-known financial-industrial groups in Russia grew on capital initially accumulated within the depths of the KGB/Communist Party.

By the late 1990s, former Chekists had firmly established themselves among the economic elite. Some became millionaire entrepreneurs themselves, others took high positions in large corporations, and yet others – in state economic regulators. Their influence was significant but often indirect – they pulled the strings while staying in the shadows. Sometimes, former security officers clashed with "pure" liberal businessmen, considering them unreliable. For example, in the late 1990s, there was a behind-the-scenes struggle between the "Seven Bankers" (a group of seven oligarchs) and a faction of security officials supporting Prime Minister Yevgeny Primakov. The oligarchs prevailed at that time, securing Yeltsin’s re-election, but just a year later, a counterattack came in the form of Putin – and the purge of "undesirable" oligarchs began.

In particular, Mikhail Khodorkovsky – the richest businessman at the time – was arrested in 2003, and his oil company was effectively taken over by the state. It can be said that the Chekists removed those business leaders who did not fit into their system. By the 2010s, nearly all Russian billionaires either personally entered the government or submitted to its control.

Thus, a kind of "shadow privatization of the country" took place in favor of a group of security officials. The market remained, private property remained, but the main benefits and financial flows were now distributed among their own: people from the former KGB and their circle. This is the very metastasis that sprouted from the 1990s into the 2000s: the fusion of business and security structures on a foundation laid back in Soviet times.

Deep State: The KGB in Modern Russia

The term “deep state” is often used when referring to influential circles that operate covertly and independently of elected power. In the context of Russia, “deep state” usually refers specifically to the security structures led by intelligence agencies, which ensure continuity of power regardless of elections, presidential changes, and other formalities. And here we come to the main paradox: although names and labels have changed, the structure and methods of the KGB have remained intact in post-Soviet Russia.

After the August 1991 coup attempt, it seemed that the repressive past was over. The new head of the KGB, Vadim Bakatin, even demonstratively declassified and handed over to the U.S. the wiretapping schemes of the American embassy in Moscow – a gesture of goodwill, as if to say, "we are starting a new era." Bakatin disbanded the infamous 5th Directorate (which fought ideological subversion), declaring an end to surveillance of dissidents. The KGB was split into several agencies, and the word “KGB” disappeared. But this was essentially a cosmetic operation. The intelligence agencies did not go anywhere: by 1993, they had already regained power, when, amid political instability, the Federal Counterintelligence Service (the predecessor of the FSB) was created, restoring many of the KGB's functions. Then came the Ministry of Security, and in 1995 – the FSB. By the late 1990s, the FSB had absorbed almost all the functions of the Soviet KGB (except for foreign intelligence and the protection of leadership). In other words, the structural status quo was restored: a large agency with broad powers inside the country.

Along with the structure, old methods were revived. Of course, the 1990s were relatively freer compared to the USSR – the press and politics were much more open. But even then, the FSB began using familiar techniques: surveillance of “unreliable” individuals, infiltration of political movements, compromising materials against inconvenient businessmen and politicians, and sometimes direct provocations. Remember the series of mysterious apartment bombings in 1999 that served as a pretext for the Second Chechen War? Officially, terrorists were blamed, but everyone understands that the FSB was behind it – everything happened too conveniently, and there were witnesses to suspicious intelligence operations. These accusations, for obvious reasons, have not been judicially proven, but few in Russia still believe in the terrorist narrative, explaining to themselves that the FSB was "forced" to conduct secret operations inside the country, supposedly to preserve it.

With Putin's arrival, a revanchist memory policy began: the FSB openly started claiming the KGB's legacy. Young officers were indoctrinated with pride in “Chekist traditions.” Holidays originating from the Cheka returned. A memorial plaque to Yuri Andropov hangs in the FSB headquarters on Lubyanka. That is, continuity was restored not only at the personnel level but also at the ideological level. And this ideology is the preservation of strong power at any cost, the defense of “sovereignty” (which often means Chekist control over society), and the special mission of the intelligence agencies as the vanguard of the state.

Today’s FSB is essentially a modernized KGB. Of course, times have changed, and methods have become more sophisticated. Instead of total censorship – monopolization of major media and propaganda; instead of mass imprisonments for jokes – selective prosecutions for “extremism.” But the essence of the FSB remains the same: to keep the information space under control and prevent the formation of opposition power centers. In the economy, its role is to protect state interests, which in reality means the interests of influential groups connected to Putin and the FSB itself. Many large companies are led by former generals or colonels from the agencies, or they operate under their “supervision.” A new term has even emerged: “Chekist oligarchs” – people who combine power within the security apparatus with enormous wealth.

For example, Igor Sechin, head of the state oil company Rosneft – he was not formally a KGB officer, but he worked with Putin in the St. Petersburg mayor’s office and is considered part of his security circle. Under his leadership, Rosneft absorbed numerous assets, becoming a giant.

Another example is the Rotenberg brothers, close friends of Putin (they once practiced judo together): after receiving colossal state construction contracts, they became wealthy, and now their business empire is closely integrated with the state. They are often associated with the “deep state,” even though they formally hold no intelligence ranks – but their connection to the FSB through the president is obvious.

The continuity of KGB methods is also evident in the persecution of opposition figures. In the late USSR, the KGB knew how not only to imprison but also to discredit and push inconvenient individuals out of the country. In modern Russia, we see similar tactics: for example, the poisoning of opposition leader Alexei Navalny – a classic intelligence operation comparable to KGB assassination attempts on dissidents abroad. Or the murder of journalist Anna Politkovskaya, bombings at critical media outlets – all of this reminds us that the “execution list” of the agencies never disappeared. Officially, it does not exist, but opponents of the regime continue to die under mysterious circumstances.

A crucial aspect is the opacity and unaccountability of today’s FSB. Its budget is classified, and public oversight is absent. Like the KGB, it is accountable only to the head of state. Essentially, the FSB today is a “state within a state,” with its own troops, investigators, prisons, and courts (let’s recall the numerous closed trials). This means that the deep state persists: presidents and ministers change, but the agencies always remain in power, and their influence only grows. Recall how in the 2000s, there was frequent talk of fighting corruption – but instead of civilian oversight, they created the FSB’s Directorate “K,” which itself became mired in corruption scandals. Conclusion: the system polices itself.

Thus, it can be said that the structure, spirit, and personnel of the KGB smoothly transitioned into the modern FSB, ensuring continuity of power and protecting the interests of a specific elite group. These are the very “metastases” of the old system that have deeply embedded themselves in Russia’s political body. On the surface – ideology, flag, coat of arms, market rhetoric. Inside – a concentration camp, a habit of making decisions behind closed doors, reliance on force, and the belief that state security (i.e., the security of those in power) is the absolute priority.

Conclusion

The history of the KGB in modern Russia is a story of transformation rather than liquidation. The Soviet intelligence agency did not just survive the collapse of the USSR – it actively participated in building the post-Soviet order, both in Russia and in Ukraine and other formally independent republics. From quietly influencing economic reforms and their architects to directly occupying key positions in power and business, the Chekists managed to adapt and seize the initiative. Their ideas of controlled modernization and a strong state, which emerged in the 1980s, became the backbone of policy in the 2000s. One could say that today’s political and economic system in Russia was largely born from a “marriage” between liberal reforms and Chekist oversight.

Looking back today, we see an astonishing picture: the market democracy that the romantics of the early 1990s tried to build gradually mutated into a hybrid regime, where the people in charge come from the intelligence agencies, and the economy serves the interests of a narrow circle of “insiders.” The KGB, having changed its name, laid the foundation for the “managed democracy” or rather “state capitalism” that we see today. This is the deep state – an invisible network of influence inherited from the Soviet era.

All of the above can be summed up with a simple formula:

“In Russia, many things change, but the rule of the Chekists remains.”

Be it economic decisions or personnel reshuffles – behind them, you can always see the shadow of people in uniform. Every step the country takes is orchestrated by KGB veterans. The traditions, connections, and operational style inherited from the “Committee” continue to live on. They are evident in how sharply Russia opposes the West, in how internal dissent is suppressed (the successors of the 5th Directorate never sleep), and in the fusion of business with power (in the spirit of operations by the “Red Star Corporation”).

The story of the deep metastasis of the KGB is a bitter lesson that shows institutions with such immense power do not simply disappear. If they are not fully reformed, they take root, adapt, evolve, and eventually consume the entire system. The Soviet KGB, surviving the era of change, became an inseparable part of modern Russia’s DNA. And perhaps, until this “genetic code” changes, all talks of something new, open, democratic, and free in Russia are nothing more than an idealistic utopia. The ghost of Lubyanka still haunts the corridors of power and business offices in Russia, shaping its course even three decades after the formal dissolution of the Committee for State Security.