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By EDITORIAL

In a world gripped by the return of imperial ambitions, few regimes embody the threat of supremacist revanchism as starkly as Vladimir Putin’s Russia. The Kremlin’s evolving posture, rooted in ethnic chauvinism, Islamophobia, and colonial nostalgia, has shifted into a dangerous new phase. Its policies increasingly target Turkic and Muslim populations within and beyond Russia’s borders, from the inner workings of domestic repression to covert acts of sabotage abroad.

On a cold December morning in 2024, what should have been a routine passenger flight from Baku to Grozny ended in catastrophe. Azerbaijan Airlines Flight 8243, an Embraer 190 aircraft, plummeted from the sky near the Kazakh port city of Aktau, killing 38 of the 67 passengers on board. Initially reported as an aviation accident, the truth behind the crash has since emerged as far more disturbing: a civilian plane, struck by a Russian missile system, brought down amid secretive military operations and obfuscated by the familiar pattern of Russian denial and disinformation.

The downing of the AZAL flight is not merely an isolated incident - it is a manifestation of a wider, deliberate policy of intimidation, interference, and suppression by the Russian Federation. For Azerbaijanis, and indeed for other Turkic and Muslim peoples across the post-Soviet space, it was another reminder that Russian chauvinism, far from being a relic of the past, is today as violent, as racist, and as imperial as ever.

The official Azerbaijani investigation left little room for ambiguity. The aircraft was struck by shrapnel from a Russian surface-to-air missile—likely fired from a Pantsir-S1 anti-aircraft system—while traversing Russian airspace near Grozny. Flight data revealed a sudden loss of hydraulic control, rapid cabin depressurisation, and a sonic event consistent with a nearby missile detonation. Witness reports from the ground and radar data corroborated the hypothesis of military activity in the region at the time.

Initial Russian responses were as cynical as they were predictable: the crash, they suggested, could have resulted from a bird strike or an onboard explosion. But as mounting evidence contradicted these claims—fragments of missile casing, electronic jamming signatures, intercepted radio chatter—Russia shifted to stalling tactics. Five months later, Moscow has yet to accept any responsibility, let alone offer restitution or prosecute those responsible.

President Vladimir Putin’s muted apology, delivered under diplomatic pressure, carefully avoided acknowledgment of the cause. His carefully chosen words—“an unfortunate incident in Russian airspace”—only underscored the Kremlin’s unwillingness to admit fault. Meanwhile, President Ilham Aliyev has made it clear: an apology without responsibility is no apology at all.

The AZAL crash must not be viewed in isolation. It follows a pattern of Russian aggression aimed squarely at Azerbaijan and its Turkic allies. In recent years, Azerbaijan has been subjected to a growing number of cyberattacks traced to Russian state-sponsored groups, targeting ministries, infrastructure, and independent media. These digital assaults intensified after Baku’s increasing diplomatic assertiveness, particularly its leadership roles within the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation (OIC) and the Non-Aligned Movement. These aren’t rogue operations by nationalist hackers—they are deliberate acts of hybrid warfare. The goal is to sow chaos, discredit leadership, and instil fear. According to security analysts in Baku, the scale and sophistication of these operations suggest GRU involvement, with several attacks coinciding with Azerbaijan's diplomatic wins on the international stage, including its recent chairmanship in key non-aligned and Islamic forums.

Just as troubling is the open hostility shown to Azerbaijani lawmakers. Earlier this year, Azerbaijani MPs were barred from entering Russia to attend multilateral forums, despite prior accreditation. This was not a bureaucratic oversight but a calculated diplomatic slight—one that fits a broader Russian effort to isolate Turkic-speaking states that are not subservient to Moscow. The move, while symbolically petty, was geopolitically significant: Moscow is signalling that Azerbaijan is no longer welcome to engage on equal footing unless it submits to Russian strategic interests.

This aggressive posture extends to Russia’s internal treatment of non-Slavic peoples. From Yekaterinburg to Krasnoyarsk, Azerbaijani workers, students, and residents are routinely subjected to racial profiling, arbitrary arrests, and violence at the hands of Russian police and OMON units. A recent incident in Yekaterinburg, in which several Azerbaijani men were beaten and detained without charge, was emblematic of a larger trend: the criminalisation of ethnicity.

The Russian concept of “ethno-criminality,” a term given formal standing in Russian policing language, provides a pseudo-legal justification for targeting entire ethnic groups under the pretext of crime prevention. It is the bureaucratic rebranding of racism—one that has already laid the ideological groundwork for future ethnic cleansing.

For Azerbaijan, Russian complicity in national tragedies runs deep. From the January 1990 massacre in Baku to the 1992 Khojaly genocide, which was carried out with Soviet weaponry and intelligence, Russia’s imperial hand has always hovered over Azerbaijan’s most painful memories. The 30-year occupation of Garabagh, facilitated and militarily sustained by Russia, was another chapter in this colonial narrative.

Even before, Russian “peacekeepers” in the region behaved more like occupying forces than neutral intermediaries. Their withdrawal was not just a logistical matter, but it was a decolonial necessity.

The chauvinism that drives these policies is not incidental to the Russian state; it is foundational. Russia has always defined itself not merely by its borders, but by its capacity to dominate others. The imperial legacies of the Tsars, continued under the Soviets, and now amplified under Putin, all share a core belief: that Russia’s greatness is inseparable from its control over non-Russian peoples.

Nowhere is this clearer than in Russia’s relationship with the Muslim world. The war crimes committed in Chechnya in the 1990s and 2000s, the cultural erasure of Tatar identity in Kazan, and the suffocating repression of Dagestani religious life are not disconnected atrocities; they are pillars of a consistent policy of Islamophobia.

In contemporary Russia, Islam is treated not as a religion of peace and culture, but as a threat to be contained. Mosques are monitored, Islamic attire is discouraged or banned, and imams are harassed or arrested. Meanwhile, the Russian Orthodox Church functions not as a spiritual institution but as an ideological engine, offering theological justifications for military expansionism and racial supremacy. In the Kremlin’s view, Orthodox Slavs are the rightful rulers, and all others are guests—or worse, suspects.

Ukrainian test case
Perhaps the most damning evidence of Russia’s capacity for ethnic brutality is its ongoing war in Ukraine. If Russia can level Ukrainian cities like Mariupol, Kharkiv, and Severodonetsk—cities populated by fellow Slavs, many of whom spoke Russian as their first language—then what restraint should one expect when it comes to Azerbaijanis, Chechens, Uzbeks, or Kyrgyz?

In Ukraine, the world has seen the use of cluster munitions, the destruction of civilian infrastructure, the forced deportations of children, and the execution of civilians in towns like Bucha. If Russia is willing to perpetrate genocide against those it once called “brotherly,” then it will not hesitate to impose even greater violence on those it regards as inferior.

The AZAL incident, thus, should be understood not as a mistake, but as a symptom. It is the result of a military doctrine that disregards civilian safety, a political culture that thrives on racial hierarchy, and a state machinery that sees independent Turkic nations not as neighbours, but as obstacles.

Russia's colonial mindset gets modern
What is happening in Russia today is the reactivation of colonial instincts under the veneer of modern authoritarianism. Where once skinhead gangs carried out pogroms on migrants from the Caucasus and Central Asia in the 1990s, today that function is performed openly by the state. There is no need for neo-Nazis when state police, intelligence agencies, and ministries operate with the same ideological framework.

And unlike the Stalinist era, where at least there were the pretences of trials, prisons, and exile, today's repression is often extrajudicial. People disappear from the streets without explanation. Torture is used without constraint. Videos of abuse circulate online, not as scandals, but as warnings.

In a nutshell, Russia’s descent into ethno-nationalist authoritarianism is not only a domestic crisis—it is an international threat. The global community must recognise the Putin regime for what it is: a neo-imperial power fuelled by racist ideology and unconstrained brutality. It has regional implications. It undermines stability in the Caucasus and Central Asia. It threatens international aviation safety. It inflames religious tensions and corrodes diplomatic trust.

Azerbaijan, as a frontline state in this confrontation, deserves more than condolences. It requires solidarity, justice, and international support in holding Russia accountable. The downing of Flight 8243 was a crime. So too are the cyberattacks, the diplomatic obstructions, and the systemic racism exported across borders.

History has shown what happens when the world tolerates chauvinist empires. The question now is whether it will allow another to grow unchecked, fuelled by missiles, prejudice, and silence.

- Photo credit: ForeignPolicy.com