On February 21, 2022, three days before Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Vladimir Putin held an expanded meeting of the Security Council, which was broadcast on television. The meeting was to decide whether to recognize the two self-proclaimed "republics" in eastern Ukraine, Donetsk and Luhansk. Some participants believed the decision was still open and urged caution. Sergei Narychkine, head of Russia's foreign intelligence services, suggested giving the West "one last chance" before any recognition. Putin interrupted him, asking whether he supported the idea. After a brief exchange, Narychkine answered "Yes," seemingly endorsing the annexation of the regions to Russia rather than their independence. Putin responded with a small laugh and told him to "please sit down. Thank you." The Russian and Western public watched this scene and asked the obvious question: why did no one in that room stop the war? However, the question may be misframed, because the Russian elite had long ceased to function as an elite before the war began. To understand why, it is important to distinguish between two types of power that those in power possess. The first is strategic: the ability to influence the direction of the state, to change or oppose a decision before it is made. The second is tactical: the ability to maneuver within an established course of action, to delay or protect oneself. The Russian ruling class had lost the first power long before 2022, and the war made them lose the second. Putin spent his first two presidential terms dismantling the platforms from which an elite could express itself politically. A clear example is the removal of direct elections for regional governors in 2004. The Federation Council, which had already been weakened by the Kremlin, approved the change without objection. Over time, regional leaders became administrators focused on economic issues rather than politicians. Similarly, the business world learned that loyalty to the state was essential. High-profile figures like Vladimir Gusinsky and Mikhail Khodorkovsky either fled or were punished for their independence. By the 2010s, it was clear that political conflict had given way to bureaucratic competition for the leader's attention. The annexation of Crimea in 2014 was a test of the new system. Officials reorganized budgets, created new ministries, and seized Ukrainian assets without internal resistance. Even a vice premier, seen as relatively liberal, offered Crimean wines to a European ambassador, which was treated as a trivial joke within the administration. By 2022, the top economic officials in Russia understood that the war made no strategic sense. They knew the risks of losing access to Western markets and the potential economic fallout. However, these concerns were never used to challenge the war, as the space for such debates had long since disappeared. The Russian elite adapted by developing a survival strategy that focused on loyalty and protection. Without the right to voice political opinions, they learned to navigate the system by knowing whom to approach and when to stay silent. Many remained in power out of fear, lack of alternatives, or because of the state's control over their careers. Loyalty became a rational survival tactic rather than a belief in Putin's vision. In 2022, when companies hesitated to prioritize military needs, the Russian parliament passed a law requiring all companies to accept military orders and reallocate employees without their consent. The law was enacted quickly, leaving no time for opposition. Meanwhile, the government intensified efforts to reclaim assets from private individuals, including land near Moscow. The traditional protection of being close to decision-makers no longer worked, and many wealthy Russians now felt trapped in a system that offered no escape. From the Western perspective, sanctions did not make Russian elites turn against the Kremlin. Instead, they made them more vulnerable in their own countries and more dependent on the regime. While some initiatives emerged, such as trade with intermediaries, these remained within the limits of the imposed direction. Sanctions have not placed Russian businesses and elites between Moscow and the West. In fact, they have closed off the West entirely, forcing money to flow into Russia. Most wealthy Russians now keep their money in sanctioned banks, which fuels the war economy. These individuals have no exit; their only strategy is to double their loyalty to the regime. Without individual sanctions, the elite might have lived more comfortably. However, these sanctions have made it clear that certain people are complicit in the war effort. They have also made it impossible for those targeted to improve their situation by opposing the war. Sanctions without an exit are a form of condemnation, not an incentive. It is not advisable to wait for a split within the elite, as those who have lost their power have forgotten how to offer an alternative. Those who wanted to leave have already done so, and those who remain have reinforced their loyalty by criticizing dissenters. Individual sanctions do not pressure Putin, as those targeted have no leverage against him. They only increase their dependence on the regime. Europe's role may be key. After nearly five years of war, Russian society is exhausted, and the balance of the closed system is beginning to crack. A dialogue initiated not with the Kremlin but with those who actually run the state—economic officials and businessmen—could give the ruling class the momentum it needs to reclaim its autonomy. The impulse must come from the outside.