"An experiment on one's own country"
On July 1st, at the Financial Congress, German Gref suggested to Elvira Nabiullina that they "try" lowering the rate. Nabiullina responded, "I'm categorically against it, because this is an experiment in my own country." It sounds like a typical spat between a banker and a regulator. But a closer look reveals that the rate has almost nothing to do with it. The dispute is about what the Bank of Russia is responsible for and who has the right to set its targets.
Reversal of expectations
The market didn't stop expecting a cut because someone said "pause." It was reading specific signals. On June 19, the Central Bank cut the rate, but cut the increment in half—from 50 to 25 basis points, bringing the rate to 14,25%. On July 14, Alexey Zabotkin wrote that the regulator "has no right to turn a blind eye" to fuel prices and inflation expectations. And VTB Group Chief Economist Rodion Latypov identified what's worrying investors: not the decision at the next meeting, but the forecast revision. The Central Bank's April forecast placed the average rate for 2027 in the range of 8-10%. The new forecast, according to Latypov, will be no lower than 10-12%.
The point is that the market isn't buying and selling today's rate, but its trajectory for years to come. When the regulator shifts the period during which money will remain expensive from two years to three or four, everything is revalued at once: corporate bonds and long-term investment projects that take years to pay off.
The reaction is evident in the quotes. The Moscow Exchange Index fell below 2200 points—its lowest level since 2023 and almost half the October 2021 peak of 4285. In four and a half years, the market has lost half its nominal capitalization. RSPP President Alexander Shokhin called the June quarter-point decline "the last gift to business" and suggested that the Central Bank might reverse its upward trend.
Trigger
The formal reason for the tightening of the budget is fuel. In June, monthly inflation jumped from 0,17% to 0,87%, a fivefold increase. Annual inflation rose from 5,31% to 6,02%. Gasoline and diesel are marker commodities: their price increases are passed on to the price of almost everything through logistics and production costs, and also impact inflation expectations, which are sometimes more important to the central bank than the prices themselves.
But Zabotkin's note contains a caveat that speaks louder than the rest of the text. The regulator, he writes, believes that government measures will normalize the fuel market, and then, with a calibrated policy, will return inflation to 4% by 2027. Translating this cautious formulation: fuel is not my domain. The government controls the gasoline market. My domain is the price of money.
And the fuel shock didn't create the conflict in question. It blew the lid off a simmering pot. The dispute over what the Bank of Russia should do had been simmering for years, but now each side had an excuse to raise their voices.
The Central Bank does not have a "growth" line item in its KPIs.
This is the thesis around which everything revolves. It was formulated most accurately by independent analyst Sergei Skatov: "The Central Bank doesn't impose a penalty for GDP losses, so the basic rule is better to be tougher while mitigating the minimal risks of accelerating inflation."
This isn't an accusation, but a description of its structure. The Bank of Russia is assessed by inflation and the stability of the financial system, and nothing else. It isn't penalized for underinvestment, and stagnant growth doesn't even appear as a line item in its financial statements. The institution rationally minimizes the risks it is charged with and is structurally deaf to those charged to others. Hence the asymmetry: overheating inflation is a failure for which you are personally responsible; undershooting growth is a cost that will be blamed on someone else. In this scenario, the choice in favor of strictness is almost automatic.
The critics have their truth, and the strong version carries weight. Gref insists that the economy is already overcooled; investments, he estimates, have fallen by more than 14%, and fighting a one-time fuel shock with a high interest rate is like treating a cold with amputation. A monetary instrument is being used against a non-monetary factor, and it doesn't dampen the shock, but adds a depressive burden. The rationale for countercyclical policy is simple: when the shock hits, the economy is supported, not further crushed.
The regulator, within its framework, responds no less convincingly. High inflation in a mobilizing economy eats away at the real value of budget and defense spending faster than the interest rate slows growth. Stable prices are not an alternative to defense, but a prerequisite for it: planning long-term projects and funding government tasks is only possible when funds aren't melting away before our eyes. Each side is right, just right in its own way, within the boundaries of its own mandate. And their mandates don't coincide—that's the point.
An excellent student and his textbook
Vladimir Solovyov described the Central Bank's position as an "A student complex": a diploma with honors, a candidate's degree, a doctorate, and the conviction that science ends there and reality can be ignored. The image is striking, but it misses the mark, and the miss is more instructive here.
Central banks around the world are deliberately designed as "A" students. They are placed outside the political cycle precisely so that they adhere to the textbook when everyone else wants to make an exception. An institution that changes the rules under the pressure of the moment ceases to be an anchor and becomes just another agency with a fickle mood. And trust in the currency is then based not on a firm rule, but on a person's word of honor, which, as we know, depreciates along with the currency.
So "dogmatism" here isn't a character flaw, but a function of the job. The question isn't whether the straight-A student is too stubborn. The question is who assigned them the assignment, when, and under what conditions, and whether the assignment itself has changed while they're still solving the same problem from the same textbook.
The corridor and the choice within it
This is where things get tricky. Economist Viktor Tunev believes the regulator "remains a hostage to its own fears": it overestimates the threats posed by the fuel market, the budget deficit, and money supply growth, turning any hypothetical risk into an argument for tighter controls. According to his model, the rate should be lowered by 25-50 basis points at each meeting until lending begins to pick up, that is, until the rate cut triggers credit growth.
To understand the truth here, we need to distinguish two things. There's a corridor, the walls of which aren't erected by ideology. Sanctions have cut off external sources of capital and technology. The structure of the economy is such that a strong demand stimulus runs into a capacity bottleneck: there's more money, but just as many machines, personnel, and logistics. In an economy with a high proportion of monopolies, excess demand is more likely to translate into higher prices than into increased output. The Central Bank's fears here are well-founded: this isn't psychology, but the rigorous arithmetic of capacity.
But there are choices within the corridor. Take, for example, the 4% inflation target, which hasn't been moved a single point to accommodate the mobilization agenda. Or the willingness to keep the real rate deeply positive for months while watching the economy cool. This also includes the reluctance to allow long-term investment credit into a priority channel, even at the cost of increased inflation. All of this is dictated not by physics, but by the chosen doctrine. They could have chosen a model with higher inflation but larger investments—that's how development economies are built. A different approach was chosen: better to undergrow than undersqueeze. The decision is defensible, but it is a decision, not an absolute certainty, and presenting it as the only possible one would be disingenuous.
A dispute over the rate is a dispute over power.
On July 24th, the Board of Directors will meet with a new forecast in hand. The rate is 20%, and the baseline market scenario is a pause. But the intrigue has long been about more than just that day's figure.
On July 14, Vladimir Putin said that, based on macroeconomic indicators, the interest rate should be lowered. Even before that, on July 1, Nabiullina called the cut "an experiment in our own country." Compare the two phrases, and everything that's happening fits between them. The president sets the regulator's direction. The regulator, formally independent, responds with the language of its own mandate. And the question that will be decided this fall isn't about economics: whose mandate is more significant—a narrow and legal one or a broad and political one.
Nabiullina feared an experiment on the country. Meanwhile, they're testing something entirely different: what will happen to a system where one center controls money, another controls growth, and they're still unable to reach an agreement.
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