The story of Ramzan Kadyrov is not merely about a regional dispute or a personal crisis. It is a symptom — a symptom of an empire in decay. An empire built on loyalty, fear, and violence, now incapable of protecting even those who once defended it.
In recent months, tensions between Chechen leader Ramzan Kadyrov and Russian President Vladimir Putin have become increasingly apparent. According to the Russian investigative outlet Important Stories, the Kremlin was furious after the Federal Security Service (FSB) discovered that Kadyrov had been holding unauthorized talks with representatives of several Gulf monarchies.
Reportedly, these secret talks revolved around securing personal safety guarantees for Kadyrov’s family and assets in the event of his resignation or loss of political influence. The negotiations were intended to remain confidential, but the information quickly reached Moscow — and that became a turning point.
Kadyrov is not an ordinary regional governor. His role in Russia’s power structure has long gone beyond any official title. He has acted as a personal vassal to Putin — autonomous in day-to-day decisions, yet unwaveringly loyal in matters of strategic importance. This informal pact granted him nearly unlimited power within Chechnya, including command over a personal armed force and de facto immunity from federal oversight.
For years, this arrangement appeared stable. But things changed after the death of Yevgeny Prigozhin. More than anyone, Kadyrov understood that even the most loyal enforcers are now expendable. The spectacular elimination of Prigozhin — another regime insider who had become too independent — showed that the system has no issue destroying its own. Kadyrov drew the only possible conclusion: if Moscow no longer trusts its most loyal lieutenants, it’s time to start building an exit strategy.
This is the context behind his backchannel contacts with representatives of Arab states. This is not defection or betrayal — it’s a survival instinct. Kadyrov sees how fast the rules are changing and is trying to secure alternative guarantees for himself and his family before the Kremlin makes up its mind about his fate.
In response, the Kremlin opted for a slow, systemic dismantling of his influence. First came pressure on Kadyrov’s inner circle. Notably, Adam Delimkhanov — one of his closest political allies — reportedly received a clear warning that the boundaries of his power were no longer defined in Grozny. Subtle yet unmistakable signals followed: Chechen elites were gradually being pushed out of federal decision-making processes. At the same time, institutional isolation set in. Kadyrov was increasingly ignored in public settings, excluded from informal consultations, and sidelined from decisions in which he once played a central role. Moscow was acting carefully but decisively — sending the message that even the most loyal no longer enjoy special privileges.
Kadyrov’s outreach to Gulf elites is not about disloyalty. It is the rational move of a man trying to survive in a system that no longer knows where it’s headed. A system built on personal deals and political loyalty cannot handle resignations — only eliminations. And when those once considered untouchable begin to look for a way out, it is no longer a private story. It is a systemic signal. The vertical of power is coming apart.
Kadyrov is not Russia’s weakness — he was, for years, its iron fist. But now, through him, we see how fragile the system truly is — a regime unable to protect even its own loyal monsters.
This matters for Ukraine. Not because Kadyrov might flee. But because the fact that even he is afraid speaks volumes about the Kremlin’s erosion from within.
In this war, it’s yet another sign that there is no monolith — only fear, masked as power.