Benjamin Franklin wrote that nothing is certain but death and taxes. In Russia, one might quip that only death and the overwhelming power of the tsar are constant. But what happens when the tsar dies? Vladimir Putin is the longest-serving Russian ruler since Joseph Stalin. He turns 73 on Oct. 7, old for a Russian, but even if he is fanatical about his health, he cannot continue indefinitely. It is essential to consider who might succeed him.
This is a challenging task—under Putin's rule, the Russian political system has, once again, become an authoritarian dictatorship bearing some of the features of a personality cult. Under these conditions Putin has not, as far as we can tell, been publicly grooming a successor, presumably because his personal authority would begin to ebb to them, and because they would become a target for others who fear losing their influence. Under Putin, the Russian system of governance centres on a cadre of mainly ageing men (and, increasingly, their sons and daughters), who serve as custodians of the strategic verticals of the political economy. These include the presidential administration, security services and armed forces, as well as the energy, industrial, technocratic and banking sectors, among others.
Conceptually, this system can be understood as a “limited access order”, in which those with the potential to challenge for power are bought off with rent-generating assets. These men owe their positions personally to Putin, and they have been allowed to enrich themselves through their verticals in return for their loyalty. In this system, personal understandings and customs are more important than formal rules and laws.
A longlist of potential successors can be drawn from these men using old fashioned Kremlinology—collating observations about their proximity to and apparent favour with Putin—to divine their respective prospects. As imperfect as it may be, this approach is useful for understanding the ups and downs of the Putin court.
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Assessments can be made of various figures from, for example, the Kremlin (such as Sergei Kiriyenko or Nikolai Patrushev), the government (Mikhail Mishustin or Marat Khusnullin), the security services (Sergei Naryshkin), the military industrial complex (Andrei Belousov or Sergei Chemezov), the energy complex (Igor Sechin), banking (Andrei Kostin) and Putin's old friends (Yurii Kovalchuk and Arkadii Rotenberg). Such men have their own power bases and are surely among the plausible runners and riders.
These men are “made”, in so far as they have served Putin for years and appear destined to remain with him to the end. As Putin ages, it is quite natural for him to stick with the loyalists around him. Loyalty trumps competence in Putin's Russia, as demonstrated when Sergei Shoigu, who botched 2022's full-scale invasion of Ukraine (but who has bonded with Putin on holidays in Siberia), was belatedly removed as defence minister but landed softly, becoming Head of the Security Council. Putin has brought loyalists closer and closer to him—in autocracies and kleptocracies the circle of trust shrinks over time.
However, observational analysis of the men in that circle is only useful to a point. In fact, the loyalty of these men ought to raise questions about their succession prospects. Russia's limited access system works by tying the fate of the elite to the leader alone: when he dies, they will almost certainly see themselves as vulnerable and, in fact, little is known about how they would behave in a transition scenario. Due to their associations with the previous regime, they will surely have to protect themselves immediately.
History suggests that the transition may throw up surprises. Few Kremlin watchers foresaw that Putin would be picked by Yeltsin in 1999 or, for that matter, that Medvedev would step in for Putin in 2008. Indeed, the collapse of the Soviet Union was characterised by implosion: regional power grabs, a rush to asserts control over strategic sectors of the economy, and Gorbachev leaving Moscow while events unfolded out of his control. In the comedy The Death of Stalin, potential successors to the Vozhd compete in a chaotic grab for power. This parody may be as instructive as anything Kremlinology can offer. Putin might control everything now, but vertical logic means that no-one can be sure of anything in the moment he dies.
Western countries should be preparing now to handle a transition that, due to Russia's governance structure and political culture, could be surprising, drawn out, and violent.
It follows that Western countries should be preparing now to handle a transition that, due to Russia's governance structure and political culture, could be surprising, drawn out, and violent. Unlike The Death of Stalin, the prospect is, of course, no laughing matter, especially considering the need to ensure that the world's largest stock of nuclear weapons remains in safe hands. Indeed, the transition will be strategically crucial, given the ongoing war in Ukraine and China's interest in the outcome. Changes in the Kremlin will also have significant impact in other regions, e.g., affecting the stability of the regime in Belarus, or the fate of pro-Russian elements in the Caucasus, Central Asia, Africa, and elsewhere.
How can NATO allies prepare for a Russian succession? As it stands, there is very little information available publicly about this, given that attention has been on the war in Ukraine. This is concerning, as the departure of Putin will not only be a Russian drama but a strategic shock to Europe, NATO and the wider world. It requires concrete planning.
The first step is to embed scenario planning and wargaming into Western institutional thinking on the issue. NATO and the EU should run regular joint table-top exercises to test assumptions and rehearse responses—diplomatic, informational, military and economic. Scenarios should range from sudden instability in Moscow, to elite rivalries spilling into violence, to a more managed succession. Planners must consider not only nuclear command and control, but also the possibility of regional unrest, opportunistic moves, or shifts in Russia's alignment with China. They must also test how potential responses might be interpreted by various Russian cadres, and the population at large.
Second, and in part to inform such wargames, Western governments need to improve intelligence on Russia's elites. Succession will be determined not in public, but within opaque patronage networks. Mapping these networks, tracking their assets, and understanding their rivalries will be essential for anticipating potential contenders. Western states should invest in a deeper pool of expertise, drawing on diplomats, academics, and Russian defectors to provide insight into the dynamics of the inner circle. Certain traits in Russian history, political culture and political economy provide a framework for thinking about the potential interactions, factions and contests that could emerge in various scenarios: autocracy, kleptocracy, orthodoxy, militarism, imperialism, and other Russian pathologies should inform this work.
Western states should invest in a deeper pool of expertise, drawing on diplomats, academics, and Russian defectors to provide insight into the dynamics of the inner circle.
Third, the West must reinforce its front line. A leadership transition could tempt Moscow to externalise its instability, through escalation in Ukraine, hybrid operations in Europe, or threats to NATO members. Maintaining deterrence on the eastern flank, accelerating support for Ukraine's military modernisation, and closing loopholes in sanctions enforcement will all be necessary to prevent Russia exploiting a moment of uncertainty. In the 1990s, Western leaders came to the belief that Russia would transition from totalitarianism to liberal democracy and a market economy underpinned by the rule of law; a misreading that should not be repeated.
Fourth, it will be vital to prepare for an intensification of the information battle. A succession struggle will generate confusion, rumour and competing narratives aimed both at Russian society and international audiences. Crafting credible and coherent messaging in advance (about accountability for the war, about possible pathways to de-escalation, and about the unity of the Western alliance) will help shape the environment in those crucial first hours and days.
Finally, and cautiously, policymakers must see that succession is not only a risk but also an opportunity. The danger of instability, renewed militarism or competition among the elite is real. At the same time, the transition could be smooth or even present an apparent reformer. It may leave Russia weakened, inward-looking, or perhaps open to some change. A range of eventualities can be stress-tested using techniques such as back-casting, scenario analysis, and assumptions-based planning. These methods can provide the evidence base for a unified approach that enables Western partners to seize emerging opportunities while avoiding the mistakes of the 1990s and 2000s.
Putin's absence will not by itself make Russia less dangerous. Without foresight the West risks being caught unprepared. Strategic stability in Europe's future depends on treating Putin's mortality as a concrete policy challenge for which preparations must begin now.
