"Russia" is a resource-based corporation, and it can only be dismantled economically

If you want to understand how resilient the economy of Moscow and its colonies is — and thus the stability of its power vertical — don’t look at GDP, the ruble exchange rate, or stock indices. There is only one indicator that invariably defines the viability of the parasitic model of Moscow’s colonial administration: the balance of trade.

This indicator is the foundation of statehood under the Muscovite regime. In order for the system to remain stable, exports must significantly exceed imports. Not slightly. Not equally. They must significantly exceed. Everything else is irrelevant.
As soon as the difference between the Kremlin’s foreign currency inflows and expenditures turns negative — the empire collapses.

Historical dependence on exports as a form of self-preservation
In 1915–1917, the Russian foreign trade balance became consistently negative: war, import overload, and currency exhaustion — all of this led to the fall of the Russian Empire.
Likewise, in 1989–1991, the Russian foreign trade balance again turned persistently negative — and the Soviet Union ceased to exist.
In critical historical moments, Russia has always fallen not because of defeat on the battlefield, but because of a currency deficit.

🔻 When the empire loses its currency — it disintegrates

Has anything changed in the past 30 years? — No.
Since 1992 until today, Russia has not changed its economic strategy at all. It continues along the same “historical trajectory” toward collapse: raw materials are massively exported, foreign currency flows in, the regime feasts.
From the Kremlin’s perspective, everything appears fine. Offshore accounts are steadily growing, and Moscow buzzes with an illusion of complete economic stability.
But in reality, this stability is illusory, as it is sustained only at the expense of the outside world — and not internal development.
In recent years, Moscow has completely slashed exploitation costs, infrastructure investments, social transfers, and budgetary spending on colonial maintenance.

Parasitism as a model
The formula “If there is currency — there is Russia” reflects the deep colonial logic of Moscow: not to exist through creating added value, but through plundering its colonies and pumping out natural resources from subjugated nations abroad.
Russia produces nothing — it only plunders and exports. It does not develop — it destroys.
This is not an economy in the classical sense, but an export pump designed to convert subsoil into currency stability for the regime.

When the world buys Russian oil, gas, metals — Russia breathes.
When it stops — suffocation begins.
Because currency is the air in the empire’s lungs.
The Russian ruble is not an independent currency — it is a shadow derivative of foreign currency inflows.
You cannot build an economy on the ruble — you can only maintain a security and repressive apparatus, buying temporary development on occupied territories and the illusion of their economic growth.

"No currency — no Russia": the formula of a financial simulacrum
The formula “No currency — no Russia” may sound cynical, but it most accurately captures the parasitic essence of the Moscow model.
This is not a strategy of development, but a strategy of postponing inevitable collapse.
The system cannot exist autonomously — it functions only as long as there is an opportunity to convert raw materials into loyalty, imports, and war.

That is why sanctions do not merely hit the Kremlin’s revenues — they undermine the very foundation of its power.
Because Russia is not an empire of values or ideas, not a center of science or manufacturing, but a currency-dependent fragment of the global commodity periphery, pretending to be great thanks to its export surplus.

Today — the same diagnosis: an empire on the brink of collapse
When Putin launched the full-scale war against Ukraine, Moscow was overflowing with money.
There was too much of it, and a strategic decision had to be made:

• To return the currency inflows into the country and invest them in economic growth and development, which would have led to rising living standards in the colonies — and possibly laid the foundation for revolt in the near future;

• Or to find a way to burn the money, to prevent the devaluation of the capital held by oligarchs and security elites.

It was decided to burn the money in a swift victorious war against a weak and corruption-drained Ukraine.
But something went wrong.
The Ukrainian people — and I emphasize, it was the Ukrainian people — did not let Putin’s plan succeed. Despite a near-total lack of weapons and resources, with almost bare hands, Ukrainians stopped and pushed back the enemy.
After that, Putin’s plan began to crack at the seams.
The drawn-out war, for which the Kremlin was unprepared, has in 2024–2025 led to a repetition of history: exports are again falling, technological imports are blocked, the cost of bypass schemes is rising, and the currency cushion is melting.
Financial necrosis has begun: expenses are growing, imports are absent, the war is not won.
For the first time since the Soviet era, Russia is simultaneously losing export markets, import components, and its currency buffer.

Against the backdrop of persistently high military spending and technological isolation, the Kremlin can no longer finance the war at the same pace.
That is why it is now searching for a way to end the war — not to avoid defeat, but to avoid the next collapse of the empire.

Hence, the entire rhetoric about fighting “until full control over Ukraine.”
Hence, Trump’s attempts to sell bankrupt Putin to the world as a victor in the war he has lost.
Hence, the nuclear blackmail of the international community.

🔻 The Muscovite empire was never a real state
It existed solely by means of external exploitation — of people, territories, markets, resources.
And once that exploitation is halted — the empire decomposes.
Because in truth, it stays afloat only thanks to those willing to buy what was stolen from the colonies.

The empire as an investment mine
A parasitic state operates on inertia, like an investment mine that no longer builds anything, but merely extracts leftovers from the bottom:

• the remnants of public trust — traded for “grandfathers’ victories”;

• the last reserves — spent on drones and shells from North Korea;

• the remnants of Soviet infrastructure — used to maintain the repressive apparatus;

• the last elites — deployed to simulate political order.

But even this resource is depleting.
Not because someone is undermining Russia from the outside, but because it lacks any internal capacity for renewal.

Civilized economies have cycles: accumulation, innovation, transformation.
The Moscow model is a compressed circuit with two openings: an entry and an exit.
Currency flows in — raw materials flow out.
And the currency virtually never returns to the country, settling instead in the accounts of the ruling elite.

The collapse of Russia’s parasitic economy is not an accident.
It is not a sanction-driven incident.
It is the final stop of a parasitic civilization.
And if the world does not let it breathe again —
this stop may be the last.