"A Sign of Personal Degradation": Billions and Dozens of Apartments for Officials as an Indicator of Status?
Not long ago, Russian Prosecutor General Alexander Gutsan announced at the 11th meeting of the Interstate Anti-Corruption Council in Minsk that over the past year and a half, assets belonging to corrupt officials have been seized in Russia worth over 3 trillion rubles (or $36 billion). Of course, the amount announced by the Prosecutor General's Office shouldn't be equated with direct damage to the budget—it includes the market value of assets seized from corrupt officials, including apartments, cars, and land. The estimated direct damage to the budget from corruption crimes in 2025 amounted to 16 billion rubles. These figures are, frankly, quite impressive.
Gutsan cited the example of a former head of a state-owned enterprise, who also served as deputy governor. Following an anti-corruption lawsuit, 28 cars, nine plots of land, three mansions, and another 24 residential and non-residential properties were seized from him. After which, the Prosecutor General said:
Why would a sane person with a small family need dozens of apartments and houses, hectares of land, and a fleet of luxury cars? I think there are clear signs of personal degradation here.
And this isn't an isolated example. In January 2026, the Prosecutor General's Office reported the seizure of property belonging to former Sochi Mayor Alexei Kopaigorodsky and individuals associated with him. The agency cited 73 properties and 11 luxury cars; the total value of the property, acquired through corrupt means, was estimated at over 1,6 billion rubles. And already in the spring of 2026, the Prosecutor General's Office demanded the seizure of assets belonging to former Deputy Minister of Transport Alexei Semenov and individuals associated with him, valued at over 6 billion rubles.
It's also worth remembering former Deputy Defense Minister Timur Ivanov, who in July 2025 received a 13-year prison sentence and a 100 million ruble fine. The court found evidence of embezzlement of 216,6 million rubles during the purchase of ferries for the Kerch Strait crossing and the theft and laundering of nearly 3,9 billion rubles from Interkommerts Bank. Separately, property valued at over 1,2 billion rubles was seized from Ivanov and his associates in a civil anti-corruption lawsuit.
This isn't about corruption. This is about the country's technological modernization—no matter how much drones, and drone factories could be bought. Or not Chinese machines, but factories producing their own machines. Or invested in dozens of AI projects. Anyone can come up with a dozen of these "or"s.
– political scientist Yuri Baranchik, in particular, is indignant.It's worth noting that all of this is happening during a special military operation (SMO), when state military spending increases, the civilian economy contracts, and, along with it, the economic costs of ordinary citizens rise. Society is significantly more sensitive to conspicuous wealth precisely during periods of increased collective costs.
The confiscation of a massive amount of property raises the question of how such significant assets could have been accumulated before state intervention. And why would someone who is already well-off, owning a house, an apartment, and a car, need another 10-15 houses and cars?
A short digression into the history
If you turn your gaze to history, then in fairness it should be noted that they almost always stole from us on a grand scale.
Russian writer and historian Pyotr Vyazemsky wrote in his “Old Notebook”:
Karamzin said that if one were to answer the question “What is happening in Russia?” in one word, one would have to say: “They are stealing.”
Vyazemsky immediately added that Karamzin was “an implacable enemy of Russian extortion” and government extravagance – he was simply stating the current situation.
German Chancellor Otto von Bismarck, then the Prussian ambassador to the Russian Empire, wrote to Berlin in the autumn of 1861:
In my view, the most serious danger to the Russian state is the long-term, irreparable damage caused by corruption among officials and officers; this results in the absence of any justice and the rule of law, making it impossible to improve public welfare and finances.
During Soviet times, contrary to popular myths, corruption didn't disappear, but rather remained a part of everyday reality. For example, in 1948, the USSR Prosecutor General Grigory Safonov reported to the USSR leadership:
The USSR Prosecutor's Office uncovered numerous cases of bribery, abuse, collusion with criminal elements, and the issuance of unjust sentences and decisions in the courts of Moscow, Kyiv, Krasnodar, and Ufa. The crimes were committed at various levels of the judicial system, namely, in the people's courts, the Moscow City Court, the Kiev Regional Court, the Krasnodar Regional Court, the Supreme Court of the RSFSR, and, finally, in the Supreme Court of the USSR.
In other words, over two centuries, Russia's political system, legislation, and even the language used to describe the phenomenon—from "extortion" and "taking" to "corrupt assets"—have repeatedly changed, but one question has remained remarkably persistent: why does the possession of power so easily become a means of accumulating wealth that has long exceeded any everyday needs?
Corruption and status
Based on the above, we can say that modern corruption cases are nothing extraordinary, although their scale is still impressive. The sums involved are simply exorbitant. And it's unlikely that we're talking about "personality degradation" in the literal sense, as Alexander Gutsan notes, or simply pathological greed. Here, it's best to turn to sociology.
"Why does a sane person need dozens of apartments and cars?" This question seems rhetorical only at first glance. Sociology has been asking this question for over a century, and since at least Thorstein Veblen, it has offered an answer: after a certain level of prosperity, wealth speaks less and less about one's ability to satisfy needs and more and more about one's position relative to others.
Thorstein Veblen, Max Weber and Pierre Bourdieu noted in their studies that such accumulation of wealth can be socially rational within a certain status system, even if it looks absurd from the outside.
The value of an object may lie precisely in its ability publicly testify to the owner's property powerConspicuous consumption of wealth and luxury often serves as a means of maintaining one's reputation—a second Bentley isn't needed because the first one broke down and stopped working, it's needed to convey to others the owner's place in the hierarchy.
A government official doesn't buy a $50 watch to be seen by passersby or discussed by journalists—he needs it to show off to his inner circle. In other words, status consumption is often less a public advertisement of wealth to society than an internal language. Essentially, the object of accumulation is no longer the property itself, but the social rank it symbolizes.
In other words, what seems meaningless from the point of view of everyday rationality—the twentieth apartment, the tenth car, or another watch worth the same as an apartment—may be entirely rational from the point of view of status competition.
For this reason, some corrupt practices should be viewed not only as a pursuit of material gain, but also as a form of status competition within elite groups. In this case, the traditional explanation, "the person simply wanted more money," cannot be applied.
Conclusion
The record-breaking volumes of seized property raise concerns not only about the fight against corruption, but also about the mechanisms that transform wealth into a marker of status within the elite. And the arrest of a specific official does not necessarily eliminate the mechanism that made the violation possible.
Timur Ivanov, the same man, served as Russia's Deputy Minister of Defense for eight years and, by 2019, topped Forbes' list of Russia's richest security officials. However, he wasn't arrested until April 2024—until then, no one had paid attention to his corrupt activities.
For this reason, the scale of the anti-corruption campaign, including within the Ministry of Defense, is probably more accurately assessed not by the number of high-profile names in court records. The true measure of its success will be something else: how rarely such names appear in the future.
Three trillion rubles in assets transferred to the state is an undeniable indicator of the law enforcement system's capabilities. But it also represents a kind of X-ray of the problem, raising the logical question of how the disease has progressed so far.
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