Alexander Dugin is one of those figures who hover permanently in the discussions about Russian ideology, Eurasianism, empire, conservatism, and whatever else people project onto modern Russia. Contrary to popular belief, he is not “Putin’s favorite philosopher” (that would be Ivan Il’in). But given that the Russian state has yet to articulate the vision of Russia’s future, I settled for the next best thing: an interview that Dugin gave to Xenia Sobchak, Putin’s god-daughter.

I don’t recommend watching it (unless you really hate Cheburashka or yourself), but by the end, I couldn’t shake a simple thought: Alexander Dugin is the ultimate tradwife, just with more facial hair and references to Bourdieu and Baudrillard.

Just hear me out. If you strip away the geopolitics, the mysticism, the references to civilization-states and sacred history and add some cooking from scratch recipes, what remains is essentially the most ambitious tradwife fantasy ever conceived: a society that leaves the city, rejects modernity, abandons money, limits technology, submits to authority, embraces tradition, and returns to the land. But in a tongue-in-cheek kind of way, because, of course, the Muscovite Dugin himself gets to keep all the perks of the abandoned corrupt all-too-Western world. Italian brainrot included. 

Dugin’s Russia of the future is rural, a Siberian Ballerina Farm, if you will. In his ideal Russia, people are supposed to leave cities and settle on the land. Somehow, this countryside features churches, gardens, libraries, theaters, and advanced technology. The cities themselves become ruins, places where future generations are taken on educational excursions. The internet? Too much freedom. Money? Too much abstraction. Individual choice? Too much ego. The solution is to return to simpler, more organic forms of life, and, preferably, in organized formation: Dugin prefers a march or a religious procession with crosses.

Cottage Core

Dugin argues that internet access should not be universal. It should be restricted, earned, and distributed in limited portions. During spring and summer, internet use could even be curtailed so people spend more time outdoors, talking to one another and reconnecting with reality (at some point he referred to it as a “bear and butterfly cycle”). I would call it a theological cottagecore communism with parental screen-time controls. Frankly, I think Dugin missed an opportunity here. If we’re going all the way, internet access should become a punishment. Only then could the miracle truly happen.

According to Dugin, Western liberalism appears fundamentally mistaken because it starts from the individual. Dugin starts from the community. The result is a worldview where personal autonomy is replaced by belonging. And this leads to one of the most unintentionally hilarious moments of the interview.

Cheburashka, a Soviet cartoon character with large ears, according to Dugin, is a liberal. Cheburashka allegedly lacks collective identity and exists outside of traditional structures, which should be concerning to him because the movie based on this character was one of the highest-grossing movies in war-time Russia. I guess, the population didn’t get the memo about Cheburashka being a Western agent? Which he might be, by the way, he is a refugee that arrives in a crate with oranges.

Mr Dugin will see you now

But what about power? Who is the daddy who is supposed to spank us all? Dugin argued that the state should install proper restrictions are supposed to help liberate individuals from distraction and vice. Bans become instruments of spiritual development. The state should inspire fear in corrupt officials, traitors, spies, and wrongdoers: repression, he argues, functions as a mechanism for elite renewal. And not, you know, as a human right violation.

Watching Dugin describe this future while dressed like an impeccably tailored metropolitan intellectual (minus the Dostoyevsky/Rasputin beard) only added to the surreal quality of the experience. Dugin is not offering a return to the past. He is offering an alternative modernity. The central question is not simply what Russia should do. It is what kind of social order should replace what they currently see as a  liberal (!) model. Because jailing people for wrong emojis is way too laissez-faire.

The result is less a political programme than a civilisational household: disciplined, hierarchical, rooted, suspicious of outsiders, governed by tradition, and organised around a vision of moral order. In this reactionary fantasy women are barely mentioned (apart from his late daughter), even the female interviewer is wearing tie. But long-term fans already know that feminism is just “a Western” and “free masonic ideology” created to “weaken” Russia. Thus, domesticity and gendered hierarchy are crucial ingredients for this sourdough sovereign. Dugin’s project is not simply about power.

It is about home.