We both grew up in Russia in the early 2000s and lived through the country’s gradual slide into authoritarianism under President Vladimir Putin. In our 20s we started working in human rights. Now we live abroad, knowing that a return to Russia would almost certainly mean jail. Over the recent months we have been noticing something worrying: The same markers of authoritarianism we know from our youth have been appearing in America.
Our American friends often struggle to describe what exactly is happening. That’s because, in part, they simply don’t have the language for it. We do. Over decades of facing dictators, Russians have developed a rich vocabulary to make sense of authoritarian reality — a weave of neologisms, coded jokes, doublespeak and Aesopian language.
Some of these terms have already started to crop up in America. Words like “oligarchy” and “gulag” have been pressed into use as people try to make sense of President Trump’s administration. But there are lots more. We decided to write a handy phrase book — a sort of short glossary of authoritarianism — to help Americans name their new reality. Because when we can describe what is happening, it becomes a bit easier to fight it.
Mnogohodovochka
Let’s start with something fun. “Mnogohodovochka” is an ironic Russian term that translates literally as “multiple steps” and usually means “master plan.”
The term emerged online to mock the Kremlin’s need to explain Mr. Putin’s actions, even when they make no sense. State media presents everything he does as part of a brilliant long-term plan that will — one day — bring great benefit to ordinary citizens. “Russia wasn’t pushed back from Kyiv,” propagandists would say in 2022. “It is all a part of a feint.” The country’s military, meanwhile, was decimated.
Now observe how many Republican leaders responded to Mr. Trump’s early moves on tariffs, which would clearly disadvantage their constituencies. Policies were changing constantly, seemingly on Mr. Trump’s whim — creating complete chaos worldwide. But the White House press secretary, Karoline Leavitt, had an explanation. “Many of you in the media clearly missed the art of the deal. You clearly failed to see what President Trump is doing here.”
Ah, yes. The art of the deal is the American equivalent of “mnogohodovochka.” Look for it being mentioned to explain away whatever blunder the administration makes next.
Power vertical
One of Mr. Putin’s plans has actually been successful: the building of a “power vertical,” or “vertikal vlasti” in Russian. It essentially means a hypercentralized, strictly hierarchical system of governance.
It began with a seemingly reasonable argument: In the early 2000s, Russia needed centralization to overcome the chaos of the 1990s. Mr. Putin seized the opportunity. Today in Russia, power flows directly from the president down through all levels of government — the executive branch outweighs the legislature, the judiciary and regional governments. Mr. Putin took control of the courts, parliament, the regions, nearly everything.
Remind you of anything? It should, because this approach aligns all too well with the so-called unitary executive theory, long pushed by American conservatives. According to it, the president has the sole authority over the executive branch, which supersedes the rest. Mr. Trump has already put the principle to strenuous use, flooding the country with executive orders and defying the courts.
When you see your government hiring people based exclusively on loyalty, threatening political opponents, making nonpartisan agencies politically dependent and even effectively disobeying the Supreme Court, know that this is what a power vertical looks like.
Siloviki
Who helps the leader establish his power vertical? Roughly translated as “men of power,” “siloviki” is a political caste authorized to use violence against citizens.
“Siloviki” is perhaps the most borrowed word in Russian studies — probably because it explains so much about Mr. Putin’s Russia. Its members are the police, the border control, the army, the security services, the spies. For their service to the regime, they are rewarded with early pensions, plenty of cash and almost total immunity from investigation for corruption or brutality.
In truth, the American security state, with its qualified immunity, surveillance apparatus and extrajudicial tactics, has long resembled something not far from a siloviki state. But the new administration is taking it to a new level.
When we watched the videos of the arrests of Mahmoud Khalil or Rumeysa Ozturk, we felt a horrible sense of déjà vu. Men in plain clothes taking an activist away from the street? We have seen it before, many times. This is the work of Mr. Trump’s budding “siloviki” — operating without a warrant, in defiance of due process and under political orders.
Byudzhetniki
Dictators are relatively powerless without a pliable population creating the illusion of support for the leader. That’s where “byudzhetniki” come in. The word literally means “budget people” and describes the various people whose livelihoods depend on the government. In Russia they could hold almost any position: civil servants, students, workers, teachers, doctors.
The authorities are not shy of using this dependency as leverage. Those images of cheering crowds at Mr. Putin’s Red Square speeches? You might be surprised to find out that a large chunk, if not a majority, have been pushed to attend by their employers rather than out of genuine support for the regime. “Byudzhetniki” are everywhere in Russia.
In America, this kind of paid-for partisanship is rare. But there are signs that the Trump administration wants its own “byudzhetniki.” Elon Musk tried, unsuccessfully, to buy support in Wisconsin and Pennsylvania, handing out cash through a “lottery” to circumvent laws prohibiting direct payment to voters. And Mr. Trump, with Trumpcoin and his general advocacy of cryptocurrency, is creating a community of people whose financial security depends on his success.
If you want to create a dependable layer of “byudzhetniki” — to celebrate your birthday, say — it’s not a bad way to go about it.
Near abroad
What does all this authoritarianism lead to? In Russia, imperialism and war. In the 1990s, Russia was redefining its place in the world. While confused, many in the Kremlin were certain that Russia’s place must be at the center — at least of the former Soviet Union. The “near abroad” denoted former Soviet republics, suggesting that they might be independent but just for now and in name only.
Justifications for Russian meddling in the “near abroad” grew as Mr. Putin became more and more assertive. The Kremlin claimed that Russians built the infrastructure in Kazakhstan, that Russians saved Ukraine in World War II, that the Baltics had become a nest for neo-Nazis and much more. The post-Soviet states were portrayed as too weak, perennially at risk of NATO encroachment and other menaces, to protect themselves.
The term entered American vocabulary when the U.S. military used it to describe Greenland and Panama in an internal memo. The way the Trump administration has been talking about these countries has us flabbergasted. It repeats, trope by trope, the Kremlin’s propaganda leading up to the war in Ukraine: denial of sovereignty, mocking of the weak and even referring to wartime sacrifices that need to be repaid.
“Near abroad” used to be an obscure term to describe Russia’s foreign policy. Now it is part of American decision-making.
Good czar, bad boyars
Let’s end with this saying. Dating back to imperial Russia, it describes the belief that the ruler is wise and benevolent but is surrounded by corrupt officials and elites — boyars in czarist Russia — who sabotage the ruler’s good intentions.
Kremlin propaganda is suffused with this sentiment, to the extent that many ordinary Russians today believe that if Mr. Putin only knew about their suffering, he would help them. Mr. Putin himself reinforces this narrative by conducting the annual “Direct Line” TV program, a question-and-answer event. People also often record videos addressed to the president and post them on the internet, hoping he will intervene and solve problems that local officials failed to address.
This helps Mr. Putin find scapegoats when unpopular policies cause public outrage. He distances himself from the whole thing, allowing ministers to take the blame. He occasionally fires (and even imprisons) local officials, reinforcing the idea that he is fighting against a corrupt and incompetent system rather than being its architect.
We can see this playing out pretty clearly in America. The MAGA movement encourages supporters to “trust the plan.” And when things go wrong, as with “Signalgate,” Mr. Trump distances himself from it. He similarly stayed away from the Department of Government Efficiency and ushered Mr. Musk out the door when he became too unpopular. The bad boyar had to go.
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There are more terms we could mention — “prodazhnost,” the sense that everything is corrupt and for sale, and “foreign agents,” to suggest that people or institutions are colluding with adversaries. But six will do. Some originated in the Kremlin, others from its opponents. They all help us decode the opacities of authoritarian reality.
It’s deeply concerning that they can now be applied to political life in America. But it’s better — believe us — to name what’s happening than to look on, speechless, as your country goes to ruin.
Maria Kuznetsova (@maria_de_forest) is a graduate of the Harvard Kennedy School and a fellow at the Carr-Ryan Center there. Dan Storyev (@storyevtime) is the managing editor at OVD-Info, a group that monitors human rights in Russia.
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