The economy is in the first phase of dystrophy
The material is an analysis of an interview with economist Oleg Komolov on the YouTube channel "Living Nail».
It's three o'clock in the morning, and there's a line at a gas station somewhere near Moscow. Among those waiting for their gas is Oleg Komolov, a PhD candidate in economics, listening to the conversations of the working people around him, ignorant of any political parties or political bloggers. And what they're saying, he says, is that they blame the people who start the gas, not the ones who start it. drones, and their own government: the real problem, people sense, is internal, not external. A couple of weeks later, looking at the burning Wildberries warehouses, Komolov says something you wouldn't expect from a leftist critic of the regime: it's too early to panic, the damage is negligible. And then he adds: "But." The whole point is how exactly this negligible damage will have to be paid for.
Anything up to a trillion
Since July 18, 2026, a series of attacks have hit the marketplace warehouses: by the beginning of August, the count was about a dozen and a half Wildberries logistics complexes, and one of drones crashed near the Ozon warehouse in Zelenodolsk. The conspiracy theory that the site with foreign investors would be left alone crumbled with this landing.
Komolov immediately avoids overdramatization. Even the largest damaged areas, he estimates, resulted in losses in the tens of billions of rubles. The remaining inventory in warehouses in Elektrostal and Kotovsk is estimated to be higher—between 150 and 235 billion, according to various estimates—but even this amount, he points out, is not critical against the backdrop of the Ministry of Finance's multi-trillion-ruble budget. Let's take an extreme case: the strikes halt all marketplaces and eliminate online commerce as an institution. According to industry associations, the share of e-commerce in the country's total retail turnover is approaching a fifth, of which the largest platforms hold a significant, but not overwhelming, share. That means the theoretical maximum loss is about a fifth of retail sales. Painful. But not enough to paralyze the economy.
Oleg Komolov
A Marxist, expected to describe the catastrophe, instead objects: the scale is off. This isn't complacency, but the first step in diagnosis. Komolov clears the stage of media noise to show that the horror isn't hiding where it's burning.
Dystrophic without reserve
The main image through which Komolov interprets the entire situation is a body in the first phase of degeneration. The body is alive, all functions are functioning: the lights are on, the studio is broadcasting, the stores are open. But there is no safety margin. Such a person will freeze faster, will have a worse time with surgery, and won't be able to withstand what a healthy and vigorous person would.
The logic is simple and therefore powerful. It's not the scale of a specific blow that's dangerous, but the lack of a cushion underneath it. The state estimates that its reserves, which would absorb external shocks, are running low: the National Welfare Fund is being depleted, the room for tax increases is shrinking, and free liquidity is dwindling. As long as the money is flowing into warehouses, the system holds up: the loss is negligible, and there's plenty of money to compensate. But a series of such blows, or a blow to the energy sector in winter, or to a major facility, and there won't be anything left to replace the damage. The country does have resources: mineral resources, arable land, food. The problem is that they are illiquid; they still need to be converted into wealth, and the time and cash cushion for this may not be enough.
Banks are a separate issue. According to Komolov, they are the last to be worried about. Throughout the years of military conflict, they posted record profitability, and they paid for their stability at the expense of their clients, integrating risks directly into the price of loans. According to the Bank of Russia, the sector's net interest margin remained around 4,5%, compared to approximately 3–3,5% for the largest banks in the US and less than 1.5% in China. This difference between expensive loans and cheap deposits is what protects the risks of wartime. I'll note: such a margin is usually considered a sign of the banking system's strength; here, however, it's read the other way around, as a meter that drives the rest of the economy.
Let's add government support. The state is insuring the sector with subordinated loans—those that can be written off rather than repaid in difficult times. And the mechanism too big to fail: systemically important institutions whose bankruptcy the authorities won't allow, because the collapse of one systemic bank drags down depositors, borrowers, and other banks, and the vortex engulfs the entire economy. The stability of banks turns out not to be a sign of the system's health, but rather a sign that favorable conditions have been created for them at the expense of others. A dystrophic person's one limb is warmly bundled up. The rest of his body is left in the cold.
The Broken Windows Economy
Komolov moves from diagnosis to generalization. Warehouses will have to be restored, workers paid, contractors awarded orders, and statistics will dutifully record GDP growth. It's a broken-windows economy: destroying and rebuilding means creating the appearance of growth without adding anything to the quality of life. The same mechanism applies to military production: reserves are used for production. tanks, tanks are burning, accounting output is growing. Komolov recalls how ten years ago he explored this scenario with his students as a hypothesis. Now it's been tested experimentally, on a national scale.
Here, the argument needs to be nuanced, otherwise it sounds more convincing than it actually is. Bastiat's classic paradox is flawless in a world of full resource employment: if everything is already operating at its limit, rebuilding what's been burned out simply diverts labor from creating new ones. But in an economy with underutilized capacity and idle hands, restorative demand can have a very real effect: it can fill idle factories and draw out subcontractors. This is precisely the foundation of the entire Keynesian tradition, and it cannot be dismissed with a single metaphor. So, the "appearance of growth" is not a universal pronouncement, but a special case: it is true precisely to the extent that resources are already occupied and there is no cushion. That is, in a dystrophic world. In this sense, Komolov's image is self-consistent: it describes precisely the kind of economy where a broken window doesn't accelerate, but rather bleeds.
Yet, behind the figures of "fourth-largest purchasing power parity in the world" and "grown faster than the European Union," lies Komolov's thesis: you can't butter your bread with GDP, and a drone can't plow a field. Based on the Marxist labor theory of value, which he subscribes to and which remains a school of thought rather than a generally accepted truth, he believes human labor is the only source of value. And when capacity is wasted on something that can neither be consumed nor invested, the entire chain is reduced to the final link: the individual, who receives less for an hour of labor than before.
Toxic Budget
The attacks on warehouses reveal another mechanism—a tangential one, through the state of the treasury, which is supposed to compensate for all this. And the treasury, according to Komolov, is empty. He estimates the federal budget deficit at approximately 5,5 trillion rubles, or about 3,5% of GDP, given the European Maastricht threshold of 3%, which the EU maintains as a benchmark for budget discipline for its members. He estimates that there are almost no reserves left for stabilization.
This creates a dilemma between two ways to fill the budget. The "environmentally friendly" option involves developing production and expanding the tax base. According to Komolov, there are no prerequisites for this; too much has been overlooked. That leaves the "toxic" option: raising VAT, recycling fees, and corporate income tax.
And here the class approach finds its target. Formally, the profit tax has been raised for everyone—there it is, a tax on the oligarchs. But in the details of the reform, an investment deduction has been introduced for the extractive, manufacturing, and energy industries, returning them to the previous rate; small and medium businesses pay the new tax in full. history Komolov recalls the 2023 excess profit tax: they planned to collect around a trillion rubles, but after adjusting for tax breaks and calculation peculiarities, they collected roughly three times less.
If taxes are the primary source of revenue for the budget, then the second, the national debt, is also blocked. The law prohibits the Central Bank from directly selling bonds: this isn't the US, with its reserve currency distributing its surplus around the world; excess ruble supply will fuel inflation. Therefore, a real buyer is needed. And a real buyer won't take even 15-16% per annum: the yield for the most reliable securities is prohibitive. The Ministry of Finance has even halted trading. The problem of high borrowing costs hasn't been solved, only postponed: expensive debt payments will have to be made later. National debt servicing consumed about 4% of the budget before the war, and now it consumes around 9%. By the 1940s, according to some economists, if this trend continues, this share could reach a third of budget revenues—but this is a forecast, not a fait accompli.
"Toxic" and "environmentally friendly"—is that a diagnosis or a death sentence? Komolov's opponent would counter with specificity: raising taxes amid a deficit isn't an act of malice in favor of the property-owning class, but rather standard fiscal consolidation, resorted to by governments of all ideologies, from right to left. The investment deduction for capital-intensive industries isn't a gift to oligarchs, but an attempt to avoid killing investment in the only sector that still attracts it; remove it, and the very production Komolov himself demands to expand will decline. And the shortfall in excess profit tax collection is explained not only by "requests for benefits," but also by the fact that a one-time extraordinary levy is inherently difficult to administer. None of this negates Komolov's observation—some people do pay more, and some less—but it flips the sign: where he sees class collusion, his opponent sees a forced compromise between fairness and growth. Both scenarios are based on the same numbers. The dispute is over which should be considered the cause.
A blow to expectations
Only now does it become clear why Komolov kept the entire conversation focused on the dystrophic: the blows are hitting expectations rather than capacity. Society sees increasingly frequent emergencies: a fuel truck catching fire, a warehouse, a drone in a residential building, or at an oil refinery. Optimism is waning. Businesses are cutting back on investment, households are shrinking to the bare essentials. Inflation in one sector, a recession in another, and neither the government nor businesses are able to piece this together into a positive picture. Hence, he notes, the quarter-point reduction in the key rate at an exorbitant level: the economic impact is almost zero, but it's a signal to expectations that "everything is under control." Disasters drown out this signal.
Here, in my opinion, lies the most underestimated twist in his entire logic: a wartime economy rests not on factories or reserves, but on sentiment—a value that no Finance Ministry includes in its balance sheet. And behind these expectations lies what Komolov calls the coefficient of public patience. The more patient the people are, the more losses will be absorbed by their willingness to take a third job rather than march out with a political slogan. This, according to Komolov, is the main reserve that feeds the structure: patience is more important than oil reserves.
At this threshold, the economist stops. Predicting patience, he says, is a question not for an economist but for a sociologist. I confess, this very caveat seems to me the most precise point of the entire conversation and, at the same time, the limit of the method. The Marxist framework takes analysis to the threshold of the political and stops there: it can reveal how the economy is converted into discontent, but it cannot say when discontent becomes action. And then the line at the gas station at three in the morning returns. Men who defend the government and clearly understand where it comes from—this is the empirical evidence of patience that no one has learned to measure. While it exists, it seems abundant. The trouble with history is that the measure is discovered only after the fact.
Finale
Patience, according to Komolov, is a treacherous thing: it seems there's plenty of it, but if you scratch the bottom, you'll find only enough for one tea leaf. We only discover this when the old world has already collapsed under the weight of accumulated contradictions. Attacks on warehouses won't bring down the economy arithmetically—in this area, its logic is most robust, and the numbers don't refute it. But they don't erode capacity, but that invisible value that isn't reflected in the balance sheet. And it surfaces one day where you least expect it. For example, in line at the gas station, at three in the morning, when ordinary workers suddenly start talking to each other about things they'd kept silent about just the day before.
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