Vladimir Putin’s recent remarks on artificial intelligence highlight a deeper struggle for control and sovereignty, revealing the Kremlin’s reliance on fear and isolation as political tools.
In a recent statement, Russian President Vladimir Putin asserted that Russia risks losing its sovereignty unless it develops artificial intelligence (AI) rooted in its own culture, history, and traditional values. This declaration, while seemingly a call for technological self-determination, underscores a more profound political strategy employed by the Kremlin.
Throughout history, the term “sovereignty” has been wielded as a sacred symbol in Russian state rhetoric, justifying authoritarian measures. It has become a mantra that resurfaces during times of economic stagnation, repression, or public discontent, with the refrain: “The West wants to destroy us.” This rhetoric serves to unify citizens under the guise of national survival, equating dissent with betrayal.
Former Russian politician Nikolai Travkin recently pointed out the emptiness of this rhetoric. He noted that whenever public discontent arises due to deteriorating living conditions, the authorities quickly invoke the threat of Western encroachment on sovereignty. This leads to a critical question: “What benefit does this sovereignty bring me, an ordinary person?”
Travkin’s observation highlights a significant disconnect between the state’s moral claims and the genuine interests of its citizens. True national interest should prioritize the well-being of the populace, encompassing access to healthcare, education, cultural pursuits, and a secure environment. When sovereignty becomes a tool for unchecked authority, it transforms into a mechanism of oppression rather than liberation.
Putin’s emphasis on creating an AI based on Russian traditions reveals that his focus is not on technological advancement but on control. AI thrives on openness, collaboration, and the free exchange of ideas. By insisting that AI must be “rooted in Russian tradition,” the Kremlin aims to constrain innovation, ensuring that even machines adhere to state ideology. This framing positions AI not as a frontier of scientific progress but as a new avenue for propaganda, where the digital mind is expected to echo the official narrative.
Putin’s underlying fear is not merely the loss of sovereignty but the potential loss of control over the definition of reality itself. This concern is compounded by practical challenges related to energy and infrastructure. Developing AI requires substantial computational power, which in turn demands efficient energy grids and clean, renewable energy sources.
In contrast to the investments seen in the United States and Europe, where the AI revolution has coincided with advancements in energy efficiency and renewable generation, Russia has lagged significantly. Its economy remains heavily reliant on fossil fuel exports, and its domestic energy infrastructure is outdated. The lack of investment in renewables and energy efficiency further complicates the nation’s ability to support the high-density, low-carbon data infrastructure necessary for AI development.
Without a robust energy ecosystem, Russia’s ambitions in AI are built on unstable foundations, characterized by inefficient grids and a lack of private-sector investment in clean energy. Even if advanced algorithms were developed, the energy costs associated with training them could render large-scale AI initiatives unsustainable. Thus, if sovereignty is to hold any meaning in the technological realm, it must encompass energy sovereignty—the ability to power innovation reliably and sustainably.
The emotional weight of the concept of sovereignty in Russia is rooted in a history marked by invasions and revolutions. This historical trauma makes the idea of sovereignty resonate deeply, making it easy to mobilize but difficult to question. However, as Travkin notes, when sovereignty is equated with the absolute rule of a single individual, it ceases to serve the populace and instead becomes a license for unaccountable power.
This mindset not only isolates the country from the global community but also alienates its citizens from their own agency. When sovereignty is defended at all costs, even at the expense of freedom and progress, it turns inward, ultimately consuming itself. The result is a society that remains in a perpetual state of defensiveness, fearing change as much as external threats.
The paradox lies in the fact that sovereignty, when stripped of its meaning, transforms into fear itself—fear of openness, innovation, and the populace’s own potential. In Putin’s speech, the integration of AI into the nationalist narrative was striking. Technology, which should ideally expand horizons, is instead being used to constrict them. The Kremlin’s approach to AI is not about fostering competition or creativity; it is about enhancing control, ensuring that algorithms do not challenge authority.
The irony is profound: a nation that once produced some of the world’s greatest scientific minds now perceives knowledge as a threat. The state that once aspired to explore space now fears the free flow of information. Travkin’s poignant question resonates: “What good is sovereignty if it brings nothing to ordinary people?” This inquiry should reverberate beyond Russia, prompting all societies that invoke national values to justify censorship and isolation to reflect on its implications.
True sovereignty does not stem from algorithms trained on “traditional values.” It arises from empowering individuals to think freely, speak openly, and envision a future unshackled by fear. This is the kind of intelligence—human or artificial—that authoritarian regimes may never replicate.
Source: Original article