Elvira Nabiullina’s sudden withdrawal from public view has triggered a fresh round of speculation about her standing inside Putin’s power vertical. For the first time in years, the Central Bank chair skipped the St. Petersburg International Economic Forum. Officials first cited the funeral of her longtime adviser Alexey Mozhin, then attributed her absence to illness.
The episode quickly became a dominant topic in Russian émigré media and popular Telegram channels. Commentators predicted her dismissal, claimed she had clashed with Putin over economic policy and even presented him with an “ultimatum,” and some floated the possibility of her arrest. The rumor mill only slowed after the Central Bank announced that Nabiullina would hold a press conference on June 19 to discuss the outlook for the key rate.
Several factors explain the intensity of the speculation. First, Nabiullina remains one of the few high-level technocrats still viewed as genuinely competent and committed to keeping the economy functioning under wartime conditions. Unlike most senior officials, she has never publicly endorsed the war. For years she has used her choice of brooches as a quiet signaling system that many interpret as disapproval of the conflict and its economic consequences. Any unusual development involving such a distinctive figure inevitably draws outsized attention.
Second, Nabiullina is clearly at odds with influential interest groups that favor a sharp cut in the key rate. Among them are Rostec chief Sergei Chemezov, Oleg Deripaska, and VTB head Andrey Kostin. The current high rate is constraining lending that even state-owned corporations rely on. Despite occasional concessions, she has so far managed to defend her hawkish stance, largely thanks to Putin’s personal trust. It is hardly surprising that powerful players have long wanted a more pliable figure in her place.
Third, Nabiullina’s term as Central Bank chair expires in 2027, and under current law she cannot be reappointed. She is already, in effect, a lame duck. This status naturally fuels discussion of possible successors and the likelihood of a shift in monetary policy. The simple calculation follows: if she has little time left, why not adjust the rate trajectory now?
The chairmanship of the Central Bank is one of the most consequential posts in the Russian system. Its occupant automatically belongs to the president’s innermost circle and enjoys regular direct access to him. All major interest groups must therefore reckon with both Nabiullina and, eventually, her successor. In an environment of prolonged personnel stagnation, her planned departure offers ambitious bureaucrats and powerful clans alike a chance to install their own candidate and expand their influence.
Taken together, these elements produced heightened interest in Nabiullina’s situation. The rumors of her impending ouster, a rift with the president, and other dramatic scenarios reflect accumulated frustration among certain elite groups, fatigue with the frozen personnel system, and the limited levers available to influence Putin’s decisions.
A similar episode occurred two months ago when popular blogger Victoria Bonya addressed an appeal to Putin. Observers interpreted it as part of “tower games” and an attempt to create formal cover for relaxing certain restrictions. No meaningful policy changes followed.
Unlike the Bonya affair, whose significance was heavily overstated, Nabiullina’s absence is not a trivial sideshow. In her final months in office, the Central Bank chief may feel freer to signal her attitude toward events. The St. Petersburg Forum has gradually ceased to function as a serious international platform and has become an event where government professionals must share the stage with Alexander Dugin and Konstantin Malofeev openly discussing nuclear strikes. For a technocrat of Nabiullina’s caliber, participation has become increasingly distasteful. By declining to attend under a plausible pretext, she preserved her reputation—an option she had not previously exercised.
This quiet refusal of an unacceptable format may itself signal that Nabiullina is prepared to leave her post. In Russia’s system, formal term limits rarely constrain Putin when he wishes to retain key figures; he routinely extends or resets them for everyone from university rectors to the head of the Investigative Committee. He could certainly do the same for Nabiullina, whom he respects. Yet her recent behavior suggests she might not accept such an offer. Dmitry Kozak has already established a precedent for voluntarily exiting the system and declining a presidential personnel decision.
The Drone Question
Last week, Ukrainian forces struck the oil refinery in Kapotnya, in southeastern Moscow, with drones on two separate occasions. The first attack damaged one processing unit; the second, larger strike hit another. The Thursday attack was captured on multiple videos by local residents that quickly circulated online.
Russian authorities reported the number of drones shot down but mentioned the refinery itself only in passing. Information about the incident did not appear even in pro-government apolitical Telegram channels. Pro-war blogger Maxim Kalashnikov was summoned by police after posting footage from the scene.
At the time, Vladimir Putin was in Kazan for the ASEAN summit and made no public comment on the strikes. His aide Yuri Ushakov later complained that such attacks “do not help negotiations” and announced upcoming visits to Russia by Donald Trump’s envoys Steven Witkoff and Jared Kushner. Meanwhile, pro-war bloggers and Z-channels began raising awkward questions about the capital’s air defenses, which they had until recently portrayed as impenetrable.
The Kremlin and Putin have repeatedly tried to distance themselves from such incidents, downplay their significance, and pretend nothing serious has occurred. In an era of rapid information spread via the internet, this approach is losing effectiveness. It is entirely possible that Putin himself, while publicly touting Russian military successes, regards these strikes as an acceptable level of collateral damage. Far greater nervousness in the Kremlin is triggered by Ukrainian drones approaching the presidential residence on Valday.
