Sergei Chemezov, maker of stars?

Le grand patron du complexe militaro-industriel russe est un proche de Vladimir Poutine. Un de ses plus anciens compagnons de route, son voisin de palier lorsque tous deux servaient en RDA à la fin des années 1980. Si proche qu’il fait partie des très rares en position de peser lourd le jour où il faudra choisir un successeur au maître du Kremlin. Un personnage extrêmement puissant, à l’impressionnant réseau dans les cercles du pouvoir russe, qui peut à la fois tutoyer les pontes de la Loubianka et financer de grands médias d’opposition (sic).

The head of Russia’s military-industrial complex is a close associate of Vladimir Putin. One of his oldest comrades-in-arms, he was his flatmate when both served in the GDR in the late 1980s. So close, in fact, that he is one of the very few in a position to wield significant influence when the time comes to choose a successor to the Kremlin’s master. An extremely powerful figure, with an impressive network in the corridors of Russian power, who is equally at ease with the bigwigs at the Lubyanka and with funding major opposition media outlets (sic).

A black-and-white photo from the 1980s shows a Vladimir Putin with sideburns and hair falling over his ears, wearing a thick, thick-striped woolly jumper, sitting at a table with Sergei Chemezov. The two men look cheerful and are surrounded by friends or colleagues. Perhaps they are even singing. An accordion is part of the scene. It was during this period, whilst they were serving with the KGB in Dresden, in the GDR, that the friendship and closeness between these two men began.

No wonder that in 2004, his friend Vladimir, now president, appointed his old comrade-in-arms—born, like him, in 1952—to head RosoboronExport, the state agency responsible for exporting products from the Russian military-industrial complex. Three years later, he was ‘promoted’ to the top of the said military-industrial complex: he is now CEO of Rostec, the state-owned holding company that oversees a large part of the sector. Hundreds of companies. In Mr Putin’s bellicose Russia, heir to the no less bellicose USSR, that is no small feat!

Two decades on, the low-key Sergei Chemezov not only reigns over the sector entrusted to him by Vladimir Putin, but also wields considerable influence over the regime. He has his people everywhere, takes part in the debates raging amongst the ruling circles of the Russian Federation — from the level of the Central Bank’s key interest rates to the degree of liberalism that should be permitted within the cracks in the system — and defends his position in the dog-eat-dog world of Russian politics, from the Mayor of Moscow, rumoured to harbour presidential ambitions, to the leaders of the siloviki (security agencies: FSB, National Guard, Prosecutor General’s Office, etc.). To the point of appearing as a potential kingmaker the day Vladimir Putin leaves the Kremlin, for one reason or another. A kingmaker who, when the time comes, will find himself competing with other kingmakers, such as Yuri Kovalchuk (1), a friend of the president since their days in St Petersburg, who might attempt to install Sergei Kirienko, the current deputy head of the Presidential Administration in charge of domestic policy, in the Kremlin; such as Viktor Zolotov, the head of the National Guard, who is striving to promote one of Putin’s protégés, Alexei Dyumin, currently an adviser to the head of state; perhaps such as Igor Sechin, head of the oil giant Rosneft… Not to mention the siloviki bloc, notably the FSB, which will not stand idly by when it comes to choosing a successor to Vladimir Putin.

Flatmates in Dresden

Working side by side in the GDR, even in its final years: that creates bonds. Indelible ones for Vladimir Putin. The only ones he seems to truly value are those between KGB officers. As on 8 May 2017, when he turned up uninvited at the home of his former boss at the KGB office in Dresden, Lazar Matveev, to celebrate the latter’s 90th birthday. Around the modest table laden with mandarins, chocolates and small glasses with gilded rims, only three guests were present : Vladimir Putin, Sergei Chemezov and Nikolai Tokarev, now director of Transneft, the state-owned company that manages the oil pipelines across the Russian Federation, and himself a former KGB officer in Dresden in the 1980s.

In Dresden, as we have said, Putin and Chemezov were, from 1985 onwards, colleagues and even neighbours, living in the same prefabricated block of flats for KGB staff at 101 Radeberger Strasse. A friendship was born, forged by their time spent together at the office and the constant comings and goings between the parents’ and children’s flats. The two men even ‘shared’ a car, a Lada, for personal use, with one using it one day and the other the next.

Putin, a major (commander) in the KGB, was registered there as a consular employee for his first post abroad – a cover for recruiting spies. Journalist Catherine Belton (2) claims, citing her sources, that from Dresden—far removed from Berlin’s spy nest—Putin had “worked to provide support” to the Red Army Faction, which was carrying out deadly attacks in West Germany (3). Chemezov — born in Irkutsk, Siberia, where he studied economics before graduating from the General Staff Military Academy — had arrived in the Saxon capital two years earlier. There, he also operated undercover, employed by the Lusch Experimental and Industrial Association, a sort of quasi-secret research centre known as “Postbox 12”, which worked on the development and production of metals and rare earths. According to a former colleague in Dresden, Chemezov worked in the KGB’s Directorate K, the counter-intelligence division, and his role involved recruiting agents, particularly within West German military counter-intelligence. Chemezov left Dresden in 1988, upon completion of his mission. Vladimir Putin, for his part, was recalled to Moscow in 1990, after the fall of the Wall.

Being posted to Dresden at the time was akin to exile. Yet it was in this peaceful city on the banks of the Elbe that Chemezov made the encounter that would change his life. Admittedly, his career is impressive today. But he could never have reached this level of responsibility had it not been for Dresden and the meeting with the man who would become President of the Russian Federation. At the time, Chemezov aspired only to “join a reconnaissance unit, be promoted to the rank of lieutenant-colonel and be posted to the Centre, (…) the ultimate dream of any officer in the KGB office [in] the GDR” (4).

At the helm of the military-industrial complex

On his return from Dresden, Chemezov thus continued on his path as a KGB agent. He became deputy director-general of the ‘foreign trade association’ Sovintersport, acting as a KGB supervisor. A position that was by no means prestigious, but potentially very lucrative. For Sovintersport, created in 1987 by the State Committee for Sport (Goskomsport), was one of those entities typical of the dying days of the USSR, throwing itself heart and soul into capitalism. Its raison d’être was to monetise elite sporting activities (such as the transfer of footballers to foreign clubs) as well as a range of businesses grafted onto these activities (such as the trade in imported cigarettes with customs duties reduced to the bare minimum). The organisation was a hotbed of corruption beyond the imagination of many of its executives.

In 1996, Chemezov was appointed head of the Department of External Economic Relations within the Presidential Administration. It was his old friend from Dresden who secured his appointment there, so that he could work under his leadership. For, in fact, Putin had been forced to leave his native St Petersburg after his name had cropped up too often in investigations into the Committee for External Relations, which he headed whilst Anatoly Sobchak was mayor of the northern capital. It was Anatoly Chubais, who had just been appointed head of the presidential administration, who had him appointed deputy head of the presidential department for the management of state-owned . “For the investigators in St Petersburg (…), Putin was now untouchable” (3).

As soon as Putin came to power, first as Prime Minister in August 1999 and then as acting President on 31 December of that year, before being elected in March 2000 and re-elected in 2004, Chemezov followed him and took his first steps in the export of military-technical products. Then, as we have said, in 2004 he became head of RosoboronExport, the agency responsible for exporting products from the Russian military-industrial complex, and then in 2007 of Rostec, the major state-owned holding company of the military-industrial complex. An organisation that oversees more than 800 companies, research centres and other start-ups, producing everything from tanks to artificial intelligence programmes, from Sukhoi fighter jets to small arms. With flagship companies such as Kamaz (manufacturer of lorries, buses and diesel engines), Uralvagonzavod (the largest manufacturer of battle tanks) and Kalashnikov Concern (a major firearms manufacturer).

Over the years, Chemezov has become a true heavyweight… because he is fully in tune with the inner workings of the Putin regime. Like many loyal collaborators of the Kremlin’s new master, he has been entrusted with a sector of the country’s economy, with the task of ensuring it serves the regime’s ambitions as effectively as possible. And in this, he excels.

Under these circumstances, he is allowed to get away with almost anything. The regime turns a blind eye to the family’s assets stashed away in tax havens, their properties in Spain, and the conflicts of interest involving their children and relatives, who tend to prosper at the expense of the state-owned holding company, in sectors such as healthcare and waste management, in which Rostec has also invested.

And with good reason: in 2021, for example, on the eve of the large-scale invasion of Ukraine, the turnover of the military-industrial complex (of which Rostec accounts for the lion’s share) stood at $17.8 billion, making Russia at that time the world’s second-largest exporter of military equipment. Beyond the figures, it is Russia’s power that is at stake — a power that Chemezov serves to the best of his ability, according to Vladimir Putin. Every weapon sold represents a little more Russian power and influence in the world.

It was Chemezov who, in the wake of the Russian invasion of Georgia in 2008, negotiated the purchase of two Mistral helicopter carriers from France. This contract earned the Russian negotiator the Legion of Honour. Mediapart revealed this letter from Claude Guéant addressed to the recipient: “Several of your friends have told me of their wish that the President of the Republic might present you with the insignia of an Officer of the Legion of Honour,” before the former Secretary-General of the Élysée suggested a few dates in March 2010 for the presentation of the medal, which he would finally receive on 9 March of that year. In 2014, following the annexation of Crimea, François Hollande had the contract cancelled.

An impressive network

But what also makes Sergei Chemezov so powerful internally—and this is by no means his least of talents—is his ability to orchestrate a vast network of influence across the country. “Chemezov is a master in the art of forming coalitions and networks of influence. It is thanks to this talent that he has succeeded in creating Russia’s largest military-industrial enterprise through the merger of factories, entities and other previously autonomous companies, such as Uralvagonzavod and the United Aircraft Corporation (OAK),” explains defence and security expert Pavel Luzin of the Saratoga Foundation (USA).

Chemezov ‘runs’ his sector and the 800 companies within the Rostec holding company through a string of trusted associates, whom he has skilfully placed in key positions — sometimes as partners and co-shareholders, such as Mikhail Shelkov, the billionaire who controls VSMPO-Avisma, a mining company producing titanium, a metal of strategic importance to the aerospace industry; sometimes as representatives of his interests on the government’s Military-Industrial Commission under and his eyes and ears on the boards of several companies within the holding, such as Alexei Aleshin; sometimes, quite simply, as executives within Rostec, such as Vladimir Artyakov, who is the first deputy general director, responsible in particular for aircraft construction and engines. “Chemezov relies on people who are generally competent in their field and who bring their own network of influence to bear,” explains Pavel Luzin.

To defend his company’s interests, Sergei Chemezov also relies on his numerous allies and confidants at the highest levels of government, some of whom he has placed there himself. Among them are: the head of the Presidential Administration (one of the centres of power in Russia, more influential than the government), Anton Vaino; Deputy Prime Minister Denis Manturov, in charge of industry and trade (a key post given that the country must both import materials to manufacture its military equipment—and thus circumvent the international sanctions imposed on Rostec, among others, in the context of the war in Ukraine—and export its production); or Anton Alikhanov, Manturov’s successor at the helm of the Ministry of Trade and Industry since 2024, having previously served as governor of the Kaliningrad region, an enclave of strategic military importance to Moscow and whose economy is heavily focused on shipbuilding.

As Rostec operates in some sixty Russian regions, Sergei Chemezov also cultivates a whole network of allies and partners across the country. Like Gleb Nikitin, governor since 2018 of the Nizhny Novgorod region—one of the most industrialised ‘subjects’ of the Russian Federation, where Rostec produces military vehicles (through the Shvabe Group in particular), aircraft (OAK, mentioned above), ammunition and components for air defence systems (for the S-400 and S-500 missiles).

A man under control

The situation of Rostec’s boss, precisely because of his apparent omnipotence, is a textbook example of how the Putin system works: the man is utterly loyal to the president (which is worth emphasising, given that, according to several of our sources, he is actually rather opposed to the war in Ukraine), benefits fully from the state’s generosity, and appears to be in tune with the deep-seated ambitions of the regime shaped by his old friend from Dresden. And yet, however powerful Sergei Chemezov may be, he nonetheless faces counterbalances within the regime. These counterbalances are of two kinds: 1) those organised by Putin through the simple interplay of the interests of the powerful figures in his regime; and 2) those imposed by the very structures of the Russian state.

Vladimir Putin is a master in the art of weakening the ‘boyars’ of his regime, a term borrowed from the Russia of Ivan the Terrible to refer to the high nobility whom the Tsar and many of his successors subdued so that they might not undermine their power. Upon examining Putinism, one realises that the Kremlin leader fears the powerful figures surrounding him, or at least cannot always compel them to act as he wishes; consequently, he weakens them by pitting them against one another, by setting them in competition.

Thus, Sergei Chemezov regularly finds himself at odds with the head of the National Guard (Rosgvardia), Viktor Zolotov. The rivalry between the two men stems from their determination, in defending the sectors entrusted to them by Vladimir Putin — internal state security for one, the production of military equipment for the other — to place their own men in key posts. The war being waged between Zolotov and Chemezov is evident in the information war being fought by their media outlets (primarily the Telegram channels they control). When the Telegram channel Ioj, controlled by Chemezov, attempts to stir up the problems Zolotov sometimes faces in his relations with Putin or to highlight the excesses of his protégé, the head of the Chechen Republic Ramzan Kadyrov, Zolotov’s social media networks immediately retaliate by shining a spotlight on Rostec’s industrial failures, whether these concern operational issues with the Superjet or the commercial difficulties faced by car manufacturer AvtoVaz.

Similar clashes also arise between Chemezov and Kovalchuk, and between Chemezov and Sechin. Ultimately, it almost always boils down to defending the interests of one’s own company against its competitors.

Another tool that Putin employs to ensure that, despite his loyalty, the power of a figure like Sergei Chemezov does not ultimately undermine the regime’s internal balance is the very structure of the state itself. Starting with the FSB, the successor to the KGB. Thus, in 2024, two highly influential Telegram channels controlled by Chemezov’s teams, Brief and Nezygar, were classified as ‘foreign agents’. This stigmatising status is now one of the Putin regime’s most powerful weapons for consolidating its dictatorship.

According to journalist Andrei Pertsev of the opposition media outlet Meduza, “it was the FSB that worked to have Nezygar and Brief placed on the list of ‘foreign agents’. Everything suggests that the underlying reason is that Chemezov did not receive authorisation from the Kremlin to expand significantly into the media sector. These are too powerful weapons.” This illustrates how the Putin regime maintains its grip by curbing the power ambitions of its boyars.

Political ambitions

Sergei Chemezov understands better than anyone else (with the exception of the regime’s other powerbrokers, such as Viktor Zolotov, Igor Sechin or Yuri Kovalchuk) how to manoeuvre to be well-positioned when the time comes to find a successor to Vladimir Putin. Denis Manturov, the Deputy Prime Minister in charge of industry and trade, currently appears to be the real contender—Chemezov’s favourite. The man’s presidential prospects are generally taken seriously by the regime’s most astute observers: he is relatively young (57), very well connected within the ruling circles… and Chemezov’s support is enough to make him a candidate to be taken seriously, even if his image is that of a particularly corrupt politician (5).

The most surprising aspect of Chemezov’s political strategy is the way he courts the liberal section of Russian society and the Russian elite. To the extent that he has funded opposition media outlets such as Novaya Gazeta (a newspaper infamous for the six journalists on its editorial staff who have been murdered since Putin came to power in 2000) or RTVi, the international television channel aimed at Russian-speaking communities outside Russia. Yet, as journalist Farida Roustamova explains – she runs the new media outlet Vlast’, dedicated to Russian political and economic news – “Chemezov is in no way a liberal. In fact, he has no ideology, like most of the powerful men in Putin’s Russia. They are simply defending their own interests. I believe that if he is funding a media outlet as significant as Novaya Gazeta, it is primarily to keep it under his control should the paper ever become too troublesome for the authorities, in the same way that the billionaire Alisher Usmanov took control of the business daily Kommersant. But I also believe that this is a way for him to position himself on the Russian political scene, purely as a tactical move, as the nationalist and traditionalist segments are already occupied by people like Viktor Zolotov or Yuri Kovalchuk.”

The strategy chosen by Sergei Chemezov, however pseudo-liberal and still perfectly in line with Vladimir Putin’s ambitions, is not the easiest. For in this Russia that has become resolutely dictatorial, it is, in reality, the siloviki (officers of the security forces) who hold the reins.

Does this mean that Chemezov’s ambition to establish himself as the kingmaker of the post-Putin era is not as credible as it is made out to be? According to Pavel Luzin: “Probably not. But one thing is certain: he will not be the only one to shape the face of the future . The choice will no doubt be the result of a compromise between the regime’s most powerful clans. And this process may well be accompanied by significant tensions within these ruling circles.”