Society
‘The Message to the Elite is Clear: Their “Protection” Has Ended’
July 31, 2025
  • Alexei Stepanov

    Journalist
Journalist Alexei Stepanov surveys political experts about how the apparent suicide of Russian Transport Minister Roman Starovoit a few weeks ago has affected Russia’s political elite.
The funeral of Roman Starovoit in St Petersburg. July 11. Source: VK
On July 7, President Vladimir Putin announced the dismissal of Roman Starovoit from his post as transport minister. Just a few hours later, Starovoit was found dead from a gunshot wound in his car in Odintsovo District, Moscow Region. Russia’s Investigative Committee has classified the incident as a suicide, noting that an honorary pistol was discovered next to the body.

Most media outlets have linked Starovoit’s death to allegations of large-scale corruption: an investigation is ongoing into embezzlement of funds allocated for the construction of defensive fortifications in Kursk Region during the Ukrainian incursion. Prior to his appointment as transport minister in 2024, Starovoit had served as governor of Kursk Region.

After dismissing Starovoit, Putin named Andrei Nikitin acting head of the ministry. Nikitin’s biography – in particular he was governor of Novgorod Region – points to ties with Arkady Rotenberg, a friend of Putin, a powerful oligarch and a major figure in Russia’s transport industry.

The Kremlin responded to Starovoit’s death with marked restraint. Press Secretary Dmitri Peskov said only that suicide cases “cannot help but shock normal people,” declining to elaborate further. National television channels largely ignored the story. The evening newscasts simply quoted a brief statement from the Investigative Committee – omitting unnecessary details, the backstory of Kursk Region and definitely discrepancies in the timeline of events.

Journalist Tatyana Felgenhauer says state propaganda clearly sought not to bother the audience with questions like: “what is happening in the country that a former governor and ex-minister decided to shoot himself?”

Alexei Venediktov, former head of the independent radio station Ekho Moskvy, which was shut down shortly after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, believes that Starovoit’s death could add to tension within the Russian elite. Venediktov is known for his access to sources familiar with the mood in the upper echelons of power.

He points out that six deputy prime ministers, including Dmitri Grigorenko and Dmitri Chernyshenko, attended Starovoit’s memorial service in Moscow and his funeral in St Petersburg. Venediktov describes them as figures close to Prime Minister Mikhail Mishustin.

He regards the presence of top government officials at Starovoit’s funeral as a “demarche” against the methods used by the siloviki. According to Venediktov, it was these methods that drove Starovoit to kill himself. He elaborates:

In my view, this demarche is comparable to Prigozhin’s mutiny. Prigozhin was also part of Putin’s elite and spoke out against another part of it. Here we see high-ranking civil servants – federal ministers, six deputy prime ministers, a former transport minister (now CEO of AvtoVAZ), the governors of St Petersburg and Leningrad Region, and Altai Region head Turchak (the son of Putin’s friend) – stage a rebellion by showing up at the funeral of Roman Starovoit. The key thing is that this was a public gesture. They knew the media would be there. It is a sign of very serious intra-elite pressure. This is a demarche against the current state of affairs, in which, during the ‘special military operation,’ security organs have gained the upper hand over other Kremlin towers and are taking control over financial flows through criminal investigations and arrests and, as one participant in these events told me, by driving people to suicide.

At the same time, Venediktov believes that Putin deliberately refrained from taking a clear side. On the one hand, he dismissed Starovoit; on the other hand, he did not use the phrase “loss of trust,” which typically signals serious problems with an official.
“Putin also sent a funeral wreath. However, when a state news agency reported on this gesture, the story was quickly taken down.”
According to Venediktov, this suggests an effort by Putin to maintain an “equidistant position” on Starovoit’s death.

Political analyst Stanislav Belkovsky also sees Starovoit’s dismissal and death as evidence of the growing political influence of the siloviki.

“Starovoit was slated for removal several months ago. This is evident from bureaucratic signals, which are not obvious but recognizable to someone with experience: the decision was made back when Andrei Nikitin moved from governor to become deputy transport minister,” Belkovsky said.

According to him, such a move would normally have been a demotion – unless Nikitin was being groomed to become minister. As Nikitin enjoys favor with Putin, his appointment as deputy appeared to be a trial period before taking over the ministry. This, Belkovsky argues, indicates that Starovoit had already been written off as a failure, above all for his inability to ensure the defense of Kursk Region.

“Starovoit did not leave his post just because his term was up,” Belkovsky continues. “During his tenure as governor, large-scale embezzlement took place in Kursk Region. Everything was plundered, and the region proved to be completely unprepared for a Ukrainian incursion. That became a political death sentence (prigovor).”

Belkovsky also highlights the role of clan politics. Both Starovoit and his predecessor, Alexander Smirnov, were closely linked to Arkady Rotenberg, he says. “In line with the informal division of responsibilities in Putin’s circle, the entire transport sphere falls under the Rotenberg clan. So if Nikitin is also a Rotenberg man, the previous balance has been preserved. If not, then we are witnessing an inter-clan redivision of responsibilities.”

Belkovsky adds that the entire system of governance is increasingly driven by the logic of militarization, which extends beyond the defense sector and into entire executive branch, including transport. “The whole government is moving on the path of militarization. Military issues are the priority, even in areas like transport. I do not rule out deeper integration between Rostec and other military-industrial complex entities and the transport sector in the near term,” Belkovsky said.

He concludes that the tragic death of Starovoit is symptomatic of the state’s transition into a new phase marked by intensified clan competition and the dominance of wartime logic. “The country is plunging into an era of militarism. And in that logic, the fates of individual figures, such as Starovoit, are decided roughly and without emotion.”
Political analyst and publicist Alexander Baunov believes that Starovoit’s suicide, even if it remains an isolated case, has already become a watershed moment for Russia’s ruling elite.

“The suicide of a federal minister, even just one, is a milestone. Even alone, such a death changes the internal convention of power,” Baunov writes.

He recalls that until recently, the Russian political system refrained from killing members of its own elite. Arrests, dismissals, forced emigration – sure.
“Death as a form of punishment had been reserved for those the regime considered traitors – primarily those who had broken their oath, i.e., members of the military or special services.”
Only later, Baunov says, was this category expanded to include oppositionists, once the Kremlin had convinced itself that they were acting on behalf of hostile foreign intelligence agencies.

“Now death has spread to those who were previously considered protected (pod broney): high-ranking officials who may be guilty but were still seen as ‘part of the team’ (svoi),” Baunov emphasizes. “The context of Stalin-era sentences, wartime imprisonment and the high-profile Smirnov case, all of this has created an atmosphere in which even a federal minister feels there is no way out.”

At the same time, Baunov argues that for officials, the version of Starovoit having been executed may appear more convincing. He points to an excerpt from Alexandra Prokopenko’s recently published book on the behavior of the bureaucracy after the war began. From the earliest weeks of the invasion, Prokopenko writes, fear of physical punishment for “saying the wrong thing” or “making the wrong move” became part of daily life among civil servants.

“No matter how much investigators insist it was suicide, officials are more likely to believe their own fears,” Baunov notes. From this moment on, the message to the elite is clear: their “protection” (bron’) has ended. Whereas previously they could, in the worst-case scenario, expect dismissal or criminal charges, now the ultimate punishment may come into play.

“Putin has equated stealing from military projects with treason. And the penalty for treason is death,” Baunov concludes.
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