"Alexey Chadayev is a former adviser to Russia's parliament and an executive at a defence firm. In an interview with a Russian military blogger, he warned that Russia faced a rerun of the early Yeltsin years. "The real sector of the economy, again with the exception of those working in defence industry in one form or another, is in a very bleak situation because money has become expensive," he explained. "Devaluation is rising, costs are rising, and there is no access to affordable credit. Everyone is facing cash flow gaps, and we are seeing the return of barter deals, just like in the forgotten days of the 1990s."[1]
Is Russia declining faster?:"Yes, Russia is declining faster in 2025 than in prior war years: economic growth has collapsed from 4.3% in 2024 to under 1%, military casualties are rising at a record pace (~1,200–1,500 daily), and demographic collapse is accelerating with births at a 200-year low and natural population loss doubling since 2023."
Summary: "Russia faces a 65% probability of a financial crisis within the next 7 years (2026–2032), driven primarily by war spending, depleting reserves, and sanctions. The most likely path (50% chance) is prolonged stagnation leading to a crisis by 2027 (85% conditional risk), while de-escalation or external aid could limit the odds to 30% or less."
Once upon a time, in the cold forests of geopolitics, there roamed a mighty bear named Russia. The bear was enormous, shaggy, and perpetually offended — the kind of creature that growls at its reflection just to stay in practice. Once upon a different time, it was feared by every animal in the forest — foxes, wolves, even the great Western eagles who spoke nervously of “containment” and “red lines.”
But now, the mighty bear limps. Its fur is patchy. Its roar echoes, but with a rasp. The bear insists it’s fine — “just resting!” — yet everyone in the forest knows the truth: Russia is a wounded bear.
The injuries aren’t just physical; they’re existential. Once it strutted through the woods with imperial swagger — commanding forests, building space rockets, and frightening anyone who disagreed. But then came the slow bleed of modernity. The trees started trading in ideas and innovation, not oil and nostalgia. The bear, refusing to change, decided instead to roar louder and crush a few smaller creatures to feel relevant.
Whenever ignored, the bear lashes out — at a democratic beaver here, a defiant squirrel there. “Defensive maneuvers!” it declares, though its claws always seem to land on someone else’s territory.
Worse still, the bear faces a deeper, quieter crisis: there are fewer cubs in the den. The young have stopped coming. Some fled west, seeking forests where they don’t have to salute every sunrise. Others stayed but lost the will to roar — or to reproduce. Even the bear’s own biologists whisper about “a demographic winter.” In the dens of Moscow, where lullabies once echoed, now only propaganda plays on repeat.
The bear, however, refuses to discuss such things. “We have strength!” it insists. “We have tradition! We have missiles!” True — but what it doesn’t have are cubs. And a bear without cubs is not a dynasty. It’s a museum exhibit waiting for its label.
To distract itself, the wounded bear hosts parades — great spectacles of tanks and trumpets — hoping that thunderous noise will drown out the silence of empty nurseries. It points to history like a security blanket: czars, victories, space triumphs. But nostalgia doesn’t reproduce. You can’t rebuild a population with memories, no matter how many medals you polish.
The other animals in the forest watch carefully. Some pity the bear — a tragic old brute gnawing its own paw, haunted by the ghost of its former glory. Others keep their distance, knowing that even a wounded bear can maul out of desperation.
And so the bear dreams on. It dreams of being feared again, of cubs filling the caves, of songs of victory echoing through the taiga. But when it wakes, it sees only its reflection — older, lonelier, roaring at a forest that has moved on.
Yes, Russia is a wounded bear — limping, bleeding, and childless. And the tragedy is not that it is dying. The tragedy is that it would rather burn the forest down than admit it’s alone.
Love for a country can inspire profound devotion, shape identities, and influence actions, much like love for a person. However, when this affection is rooted in an idealized vision rather than reality, it risks disillusionment, moral compromise, or even complicity in harmful ideologies. Russophilia—the romanticized admiration for Russia—exemplifies this danger. Many Russophiles are captivated by Russia’s cultural heritage, historical grandeur, or perceived defiance of Western norms, yet they often overlook its political repression, aggressive foreign policies, and ongoing decline. In contrast, Singapore’s remarkable ascent from a struggling post-colonial state to a global powerhouse offers a model of a nation worthy of admiration for its tangible successes. This essay explores the perils of falling in love with an idealized Russia and contrasts it with Singapore’s rise, highlighting the importance of grounding national love in reality.
The Allure of Russia: A Romanticized Vision
Russophilia often stems from fascination with Russia’s rich cultural and historical tapestry. The novels of Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, the music of Tchaikovsky, the spiritual depth of Orthodox Christianity, and the vastness of Russia’s landscapes evoke awe and romantic longing. For some, Russia represents a counterpoint to Western liberalism, embodying traditional values or resistance to globalism. Its history of enduring invasions, revolutions, and geopolitical shifts reinforces an image of strength, authenticity, and resilience.
This idealized vision, however, often ignores modern Russia’s stark realities, including its authoritarian governance, economic stagnation, and social decay. Russophiles may cling to an image of Russia frozen in its imperial or Soviet past, overlooking the systemic challenges that define its present. This disconnect between romantic perception and reality sets the stage for the dangers of misplaced admiration.
The Dangers of Idealization
Falling in love with an idealized country fosters several risks. First, it encourages selective perception, where admirers focus on cultural or historical highlights while ignoring troubling realities. Russophiles may celebrate Russia’s artistic legacy or its defiance of Western influence but dismiss the erosion of its democratic institutions. Under Vladimir Putin’s leadership, independent media have been shuttered, political opponents like Alexei Navalny imprisoned or killed, and freedom of expression curtailed. These realities are often downplayed by Russophiles as Western exaggerations, creating a dangerous blind spot.
Second, idealization risks profound disillusionment when the gap between fantasy and reality becomes undeniable. Russophiles who visit Russia or engage with its current state may be shocked by its decline: crumbling infrastructure, widespread corruption, and a stagnating economy. The romanticized image of a strong, unified nation falters against the backdrop of declining living standards, population loss, and brain drain, as many Russians emigrate for better opportunities. This disillusionment can lead to a personal crisis, as Russophiles grapple with the collapse of their cherished ideals.
The Decline of Modern Russia
Modern Russia’s deterioration amplifies the dangers of Russophilia. Economically, the country faces significant challenges. Sanctions following the 2014 annexation of Crimea and the 2022 invasion of Ukraine have crippled key sectors, limited access to technology, and driven inflation. Russia’s heavy reliance on oil and gas exports leaves it vulnerable to global market fluctuations, and efforts to diversify the economy are hindered by corruption and mismanagement. The World Bank notes that Russia’s GDP growth has lagged behind other major economies, with real incomes for many Russians stagnating or declining over the past decade.
Socially, Russia grapples with a demographic crisis. A low birth rate, high mortality rates, and emigration have led to a shrinking population, projected to drop from 146 million in 2020 to below 130 million by 2050, per some estimates. Rural areas suffer from abandoned villages and decaying infrastructure, far from the grandeur Russophiles imagine. Even urban centers like Moscow, while projecting modernity, face stark inequality, with wealth concentrated among a Kremlin-connected elite.
Politically, Russia’s authoritarian turn has deepened its decline. The suppression of dissent and a controlled media environment stifle innovation and accountability. The war in Ukraine has drained resources, with military losses and economic isolation exacerbating domestic challenges. The Kremlin’s focus on projecting power abroad often overshadows internal decay, such as outdated healthcare systems or underfunded education. For Russophiles, this decline challenges the narrative of Russia as a strong, cohesive nation, yet many remain reluctant to confront these realities.
The Contrast: Singapore’s Ascent as a Model of Prudent Admiration
In stark contrast to Russia’s decline, Singapore’s rise from a resource-poor, post-colonial state to a global economic powerhouse offers a model of a nation worthy of grounded, sustainable admiration. When Singapore gained independence in 1965, it faced high unemployment, ethnic tensions, no natural resources, and regional instability. Yet, under the pragmatic leadership of Lee Kuan Yew, it transformed into a beacon of prosperity through disciplined governance and forward-thinking policies. Key reasons for its ascent include:
- Economic Diversification: Unlike Russia’s reliance on commodities, Singapore invested in finance, technology, and logistics, becoming a global hub for multinationals through free trade and low taxes. Its GDP per capita now exceeds $80,000 USD, among the world’s highest.
- Merit-Based Governance: Singapore’s zero-tolerance approach to corruption (ranking consistently high on global indices) and efficient bureaucracy contrast sharply with Russia’s cronyism, fostering trust and growth.
- Social Cohesion: Investments in housing, healthcare, and education created a high-quality-of-life society. Unlike Russia’s population decline, Singapore’s population has grown through skilled immigration, supporting a vibrant workforce.
- Adaptive Foreign Policy: Singapore’s neutrality and strategic alliances ensured resilience, avoiding the isolation that sanctions impose on Russia.
Singapore’s success—evidenced by near-full employment, top human development rankings, and global influence—makes it a nation that inspires admiration rooted in reality. “Singaporephiles” admire a country that delivers measurable prosperity, offering lessons in governance and innovation. This contrasts with Russophilia’s reliance on romanticized myths, showing that love for a nation is most rewarding when tied to tangible achievements rather than nostalgic ideals.
Russophilia and Complicity in Authoritarianism
The romanticization of Russia can lead to complicity in its authoritarianism, particularly when Russophiles endorse or excuse the Kremlin’s actions. Russia’s government promotes itself as a defender of traditional values and a counterweight to Western decadence, appealing to those disillusioned with their own societies. Some Russophiles, especially in conservative or anti-establishment circles, embrace this narrative, seeing Russia as a beacon of moral or cultural purity.
However, this admiration often ignores the human cost of Russia’s policies. The invasion of Ukraine, justified by the Kremlin as protecting Russian interests, has caused thousands of civilian deaths and displaced millions. Russophiles who echo these justifications or downplay the war’s impact risk becoming apologists for aggression. Similarly, by overlooking domestic repression—like the jailing of activists or silencing of independent voices—Russophiles may lend legitimacy to an authoritarian regime. In contrast, Singapore’s transparent governance and global integration make it a model free of such moral compromises, reinforcing the value of admiring a nation for its ethical foundations.
The Psychological and Social Costs
On a personal level, Russophilia can trigger an identity crisis when the idealized Russia clashes with its declining reality. Russophiles may invest so much of their identity in their love for Russia that confronting its flaws feels like betrayal. This can lead to alienation from both Russia and their own communities, where Russophilia may be viewed with suspicion, especially amid geopolitical tensions. In Western countries, where Russia is often seen as an adversary, Russophiles may face accusations of naivety or disloyalty, deepening their isolation.
Socially, Russophilia can fuel polarization. By defending a nation in decline, Russophiles may clash with mainstream views, entrenching divisions. Their refusal to acknowledge Russia’s deterioration can breed mistrust, as others see their admiration as disconnected from reality or sympathetic to authoritarianism. Conversely, Singapore’s success unites admirers across ideologies, fostering constructive dialogue about effective nation-building.
Navigating a Balanced Admiration
To avoid these dangers, Russophiles must approach their love for Russia with critical awareness. Admiring its culture or history does not require endorsing its government or ignoring its decline. Russophiles can celebrate Russia’s literary and artistic contributions while acknowledging its economic stagnation, demographic challenges, and political repression. Engaging with diverse sources, such as ordinary Russians or independent journalists, can provide a fuller picture. Questioning state propaganda is essential to maintaining a balanced view. Singapore’s example encourages admiration that is aspirational and evidence-based, directing love toward nations that uplift rather than obscure.
The Danger of Idolizing Singapore
While Singapore’s ascent offers a compelling contrast to Russia’s decline, it is not without its own dark side, underscoring the danger of idolizing any nation without scrutiny. As highlighted in the YouTube video The Dark Side of Singapore's Economic Miracle(2022), Singapore’s success has come at a significant cost to its people, and its model may be faltering. The nation’s hyper-competitive culture, driven by the “kiasu” mentality—a fear of losing or falling behind—has fostered stress, burnout, and low self-esteem among Singaporeans. Research cited in the video indicates that Singaporeans are among the most overworked and stressed globally, with the highest job dissatisfaction in Southeast Asia. The education system, while producing top test results, is intensely stressful, with streaming practices determining children’s futures based on early test scores, leading to widespread anxiety.
Moreover, Singapore faces a housing crisis, with public housing waitlists stretching over five years and private housing becoming unaffordable for most. The nation’s low fertility rate—the lowest globally—reflects financial pressures and a competitive lifestyle, threatening the population growth central to its economic model. High levels of immigration, intended to offset this, have sparked resentment among locals who feel that skilled foreign workers compete for jobs, creating social tensions. An aging population further strains resources, raising questions about the sustainability of Singapore’s growth strategy.
These challenges reveal that even a “model” nation like Singapore has flaws that admirers must acknowledge. Idolizing Singapore as a flawless success story risks overlooking the human toll of its policies—stress, inequality, and social pressures—that undermine its appeal. Just as Russophiles romanticize Russia’s past while ignoring its decline, Singaporephiles may idealize its prosperity while neglecting its societal costs, leading to a similar disillusionment when the reality of an overworked, anxious populace and an unsustainable model becomes clear.
Conclusion
Falling in love with the wrong country, as exemplified by Russophilia, carries risks of disillusionment, moral compromise, and complicity in authoritarianism. Russia’s decline—marked by economic stagnation, demographic crises, and political repression—challenges the romanticized image of a strong, vibrant nation, exposing the dangers of selective perception. Singapore’s ascent, with its economic diversification, merit-based governance, and social cohesion, initially appears as a model for grounded admiration. However, its own challenges—intense societal pressures, a housing crisis, low fertility rates, and immigration tensions—reveal that no nation is immune to flaws. Both Russophilia and the uncritical idolization of Singapore underscore the need to approach national love with critical awareness, celebrating achievements while acknowledging shortcomings. True appreciation of a country requires seeing it in its entirety, not as a fantasy, ensuring that admiration inspires constructive engagement rather than disillusionment or harm.
Russia's retreat into demographic secrecy represents more than statistical manipulation—it's a symptom of an unlikey, but not impossible, state failure. By erasing its people from official view, Moscow is courting the very instability it seeks to avoid. As I've argued throughout my career studying political demography, population changes are among the most powerful forces shaping international and domestic politics. Russia's attempt to hide these changes doesn't make them disappear; it only ensures that when the demographic reckoning comes, it will be swift, severe, and destabilizing.
Even before Trump put the tough sanctions on Russia in October 2025, only 10% of MAGA Republicans had favorable views on Vladimir Putin in July of 2025 (See: American's view's on Vladimir Putin)
Now that Donald Trump has put tough sanctions on Russia, I suspect a much smaller percentage of MAGA Republicans view Vladimir Putin favorably.
Question: "What is the probability that hyper Russophilia-Putinism will be "stone cold dead" in the USA within 5 years?"
Estimated probability: 95%. It will be politically inert ("stone cold dead") by 2030, surviving only in irrelevant online echo chambers or historical footnotes, akin to 1970s Stalin apologists.
