By John Q. Hosedrinker 
Major General Alexander Ogloblin, former head of Russia’s military communications department, has been arrested for allegedly accepting a bribe of 10 million rubles ($103,000) from a telecommunications company to secure defense ministry contracts. Ogloblin had already been sentenced to four and a half years for embezzlement in February 2022 but was released early after implicating his former superior, Vadim Shamarin, in his testimony. His second arrest comes following statements against him by Shamarin, as part of a plea deal with investigators. Shamarin was accused of receiving procurement kickbacks. The arrest is seen as a crackdown on serving and former defense officials linked to former defense minister Sergei Shoigu.
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Putin’s generals are turning on each other, and it’s difficult not to smirk at the unfolding drama. The sheer absurdity of it all reminds me of a dog fight where the dogs, in their desperation and fury, end up turning on each other instead of their intended target. The internal strife among those once loyal to the Kremlin displays a disarray that betrays a regime at its seams. It’s a classic move in authoritarian regimes—pitting one power faction against another, ensuring that no one rises too high to threaten the absolute power of the leader. Yet, now it seems that the very mechanics of that competition are backfiring.
The recent saga involving generals like Ogloblin and Shamarin exposes a breed of self-preservation that is almost comical. The accusations of embezzlement and bribery cast a shadow not only on their actions but also on the moral foundation of their leadership. There’s a chilling realization that beneath the grand facade of military might lies a network possibly more concerned with cash and influence than coherent strategy. Can one truly wage war effectively when the primary allegiance is to self-interest rather than national integrity? Perhaps money does speak louder than patriotism—or at least, it echoes more clearly in a court of law.
It’s astonishing to watch these powerful figures point fingers at one another, seemingly oblivious to the fact that their struggles only serve to weaken the already crumbling military apparatus. This form of infighting, reminiscent of historical power struggles, showcases a failure to collaborate when strength is needed most. The disastrous invasion plans fraught with mismanagement paint a picture of a military where generals squabble over resources rather than share knowledge and coordinate efforts—a perfect recipe for failure. The disastrous attempt to take Kyiv stands as a testament to this chaotic ballet of ambition and greed.
Part of me wonders whether these generals have always been driven more by personal ambition than by loyalty to Putin or Russia itself. The way they betray one another seems to suggest that any allegiance they had to the regime is now overshadowed by a desire for self-preservation. They are desperately clawing for an upper hand, but in the process, they might just be sealing their own fates. The notion of a unified military front is increasingly a relic of the past as they engage in a race to distance themselves from the perceived failures of their peers.
The broader implications of this infighting can’t be ignored. As these generals turn against one another, could this be indicative of a deeper discontent within the ranks? If leaders are too busy undermining each other, how does that affect morale on the ground? There’s an eerie sense of anticipation as one struggles to envision what might follow next—could this lead to a catastrophic failure on the battlefield or, more intriguingly, a flicker of realization among the lower ranks? Self-preservation is a powerful instinct, and perhaps it might unravel the war machine from within.
As each scandal unfolds, I can’t help but feel a twinge of hope that chaos might indeed bring about change. The entrenched system may be rotting from the inside, and if these power struggles result in a loss of cohesion and strategy, perhaps, just perhaps, it could facilitate a moment for reflection on the futility of their endeavors. The idea of Putin’s generals throwing each other out of metaphorical windows becomes an apt metaphor for a regime that appears increasingly tenuous.
In this dark comedy of errors, one can only watch with bittersweet fascination. As they attempt to outmaneuver one another, it feels as though the very foundation upon which they’ve built their power is fracturing. An authoritarian regime is often characterized by silencing dissent, but when the dissent arises within the ranks themselves, it signals a shift that could herald significant change. I find myself waiting, half in disbelief, half with empty hope, at the prospect of these generals finally realizing that their battle isn’t with one another; it’s with the consequences of their own actions—ones that may lead them straight to the end of the line.