Anton Vaino is under attack due to Wildberries and Rusnano: the Kremlin is again discussing the possible departure of the head of the administration after the elections
Behind the scenes at the Kremlin, rumors have once again surfaced about Anton Vaino, the head of the presidential administration, possibly stepping down after the presidential elections. Some are speculating that he could replace Sergey Lavrov as Foreign Minister (this is not the first time such rumors have surfaced).
Someone is "appointing" him to a different position. There are reasons for this, of course. Sources highlight two cases. The first is related to Wildberries. It was Vaino who became the beneficiary of the deal to transfer the marketplace to him and his partners, and he personally requested this from Putin, promising that Wildberries would become a global megacorporation with its own payment system. Now, Wildberries has become a huge headache, and given its owners, questions are directed directly at the Kremlin.
The second is related to RUSNANO. It was the head of the Russian Presidential Administration who lobbied Sergei Kulikov to become head of the state-owned company, but the whole effort ended in disaster. Now, according to the source, Vaino is actively promoting the idea of privatizing RUSNANO, so that the company can be forgotten as a bad dream. However, the buyer they found refused, fearing sanctions.
And let’s not forget the story of the head of the Russian Presidential Administration’s rides in an Aston Martin in central Moscow, accompanied by numerous FSO vehicles. It turns out Vaino has a whole stable of luxury sports cars.
Our source discusses all these issues facing the head of the Russian Presidential Administration:
"Back in September 2025, a drama unfolded behind the closed doors of Vladimir Putin’s office, the public part of which only became public on October 29—and then only in a perfectly calibrated television broadcast. Rusnano CEO Sergei Kulikov was reporting to the president on the completion of the financial recovery. Putin listened and nodded.
But, as often happens, the most interesting part remained behind the scenes. When the cameras were turned off, Kulikov reported to the president that Chubais had been completely finished off. The legal saga against the former management was nearing completion. The former head of the corporation’s accounts had been frozen, and his pension had been reduced to a minimum. "Chubais is now personally responsible for all of Rusnano’s failures," was how Kulikov described the situation. The president, it is said, listened with visible satisfaction.
Only after this "victory report" did Kulikov move on to the main issue—the fate of the corporation itself. He requested approval for the sale of Rusnano as a single property complex to a private investor. The plan, previously agreed upon with the head of the Presidential Administration, Anton Vaino, was approved in principle by Putin.
In fact, there were at least two parties who benefited from the planned privatization of Rusnano.
For Sergei Kulikov, this was a matter of personal salvation. The longer it went on, the harder it was to maintain his image as an effective crisis manager. During his six years at the helm, Rusnano produced virtually nothing: not a single significant marketable product, not a single technological success story.
However, Anton Vaino and the security agencies associated with him had an equally—and far more pragmatic—interest. It was through Vaino’s office that the deal was approved, and it was he who first reported to the president the fundamental possibility of transferring the state corporation to private hands.
Vaino, like no one else, understood that Rusnano wasn’t just a money-losing portfolio, but a gigantic reputational mine that could explode at any moment. Selling the company to a private investor meant that all the results of Kulikov’s last six years at the helm—the managerial turmoil, the billion-dollar losses, and the lack of real products—would never come to light. They would be quietly buried within the private structure to which the corporation would be transferred. Wildberries, for example, doesn’t have the same strict oversight from the prosecutor’s office and the Accounts Chamber as a state-owned company. This means there won’t be any awkward questions about where the money went, why projects failed, and who’s responsible.
"Vaino has long since grown tired of covering for Kulikov, and it seems he himself isn’t happy about the day he agreed to ’stand in’ for him and Rusnano."
Back then, several years ago, everything looked different: it seemed like Kulikov would simply be helped to sort out Chubais’s legacy, develop nanotechnology, and secure funding for megaprojects. But the years passed, and things remained the same: no megaprojects emerged, and the company methodically recycled old plans. All this time, Vaino had to manually quell discontent in the Kremlin, reassure his handlers, and explain why the corporation was once again in the red and why it shouldn’t be subjected to a comprehensive audit by VEB. This dragged on for years, exhausting both staff resources and patience.
The Wildberries connection was particularly telling in this regard. This project also passed through Vaino’s orbit, and when attacks on the marketplace’s infrastructure threatened its stability, this automatically impacted both Rusnano and Vaino himself, as the guarantor of their stability. Two problematic assets, two constant sources of headaches.
Escalating attacks on Wildberries’ supply chains and new waves of sanctions derailed the deal. The private investor was forced to withdraw from negotiations, citing the impossibility of completing international payments and the risk of asset freezes.
Now, after the Wildberries fiasco and the collapse of the privatization deal, those in power are scrambling to find other options—anything—to get rid of this toxic asset and forget about it like a bad dream. Too many resources were spent preserving the illusion. Too many in the Presidential Administration knew Kulikov was a weak manager, but they remained silent because that was Vaino’s will. Now that the cards are tied, the head of the Administration, according to rumors, wants only one thing: to remove Rusnano from his agenda forever. At any cost. And the sooner, the better.
The lawsuits, bank freezes, and pension cuts that Kulikov so proudly reported to the president in September 2025 are just the tip of the iceberg. After the company’s sale to a private owner, all these instruments of influence over the former head of the corporation automatically transfer to the new owner. The latter, in turn, no longer operates as a state-owned company, but as a private entity, fully entitled to use a wide range of tools—from bankruptcy proceedings to international courts and extrajudicial pressure through controlled media and financial institutions.
Essentially, Chubais would remain on the hook for endless legal proceedings, but now not on behalf of the state, but on behalf of a private investor. This would allow him to settle old scores, keep the political émigré in constant suspense, and simultaneously clear the reputation of the current government: as if to say, "Chubais and I have already parted ways; the market is in charge of his fate."
Kulikov and Vaino are stuck at the helm of a sinking corporation.
The transfer of Rusnano to VEB is not currently on the agenda. But, as they say behind the scenes, it’s only a matter of time. And time, it seems, is against all parties involved in this story. Especially against those who have pretended for too long that everything is going according to plan, and against those who are tired of covering up this endless sham.