Newly leaked internal documents, made public after the exposure of Russian activists’ data, once again reveal the scale of financial flows directed at promoting pro-Russian ideas – in this case, in Moldova. The annual budgets of such operations reach tens and even hundreds of millions of dollars, comparable to the expenses of major corporations or universities. Yet behind this scale lies a chaotic system: corruption, inefficiency, and negligence toward security can, if not nullify, then significantly reduce the effectiveness of these investments in pushing Kremlin narratives. Still, even with low efficiency, such work retains a certain impact. The leaked documents highlight the key channels of financing, the structure of spending, and their potential Russian influence on public opinion abroad.
The scale of financing
The documents show that the Kremlin views Moldova’s information field as a strategic priority. The total annual budget of such operations is estimated at 5–8 billion rubles (more than $50–80 million). Monthly expenses are equally striking: some programs receive several hundred million rubles each month. For example, initiatives like “support for the Russian language” or the “Territory of Childhood” are financed with hundreds of millions, while PR operations consume tens of millions of rubles monthly.
Corruption and lack of transparency
One defining feature that ultimately shapes the quality of such influence work is its high corruption potential. If the system itself relies on corruption as a tool of influence, it would be naïve to expect these same problems not to infect the system as a whole.
The leaked documents reveal numerous vague budget lines that likely hide embezzlement. Up to 30–40% of the budget falls under generalized categories such as “special projects,” “other expenses,” or “consulting services,” with no clear purpose specified. The main sums are channeled through a network of interconnected companies. Executives of these firms often have close personal ties, enabling money to flow through fictitious contracts and inflated invoices. A classic “matryoshka” scheme of shell companies and bloated staff undermines any real oversight, turning billions into easy prey for opportunists, regardless of the official purpose.
Salaries also play a special role. Top managers receive 250–400,000 rubles per month, while rank-and-file employees earn only 30–70,000. Many leaders have assistants with generous paychecks but no clearly defined responsibilities. This reflects the “vertical” of distribution: leadership enriches itself systematically at the expense of the lower levels. In one branch, the “monitoring department” employs 27 people, each with an identical salary of 46,000 rubles, yet their actual duties remain unclear. Such irrational payroll structures and inflated staffing allow budgets to “disappear” with little accountability.
Digital technologies as a weapon
A particularly notable element is the emphasis on information technology. In today’s world, where digitalization expands every year but digital literacy and security remain weak, the digital domain has become central to influence campaigns. Moscow clearly understands and exploits this.
According to the documents, about 144 million rubles annually are allocated to developing digital platforms and online infrastructure. The toolkit includes dozens of IT projects: from analytical systems tracking social media and electoral activity to mobile apps for coordinating “activists.” One system collects and analyzes posts on social networks, allowing propaganda campaigns to be adjusted in real time. Another is a chatbot through which hundreds of supporters receive personal assignments and submit reports on their work.
Mobile apps require users to upload passport data, link to a phone number, and verify via Telegram. Each activist is given a unique task and then submits photo or video proof of its completion. Another system manages a call center where operators contact voters, conduct surveys, and spread the necessary messaging. According to available data, several million rubles per month are spent on digital operations, with over thirty specialists working in the IT department.
Yet the most paradoxical finding of the leak is the utter negligence toward cybersecurity. Employees’ personal data and strategic plans are stored in open files, while dozens of internal services are protected by primitive passwords (for example, “Raketa24”). This astonishing carelessness suggests that security is not even on the organizers’ radar: instead of safeguarding information, they pour money into expanding influence tools, failing to grasp their own system’s vulnerabilities. In the end, while exploiting digital weaknesses abroad, the architects of these schemes remain exposed to the same threats themselves.
International schemes and sanction evasion
The financing schemes are not limited to Moldova. In fact, funds rarely flow directly from Russia. The documents mention operations in Kyrgyzstan, Armenia, and Turkey. The Bishkek office, with an annual budget exceeding 18 million soms, officially “supports compatriots”; the Armenian branch organizes “cultural events”; Turkish partners provide “consulting services.” In reality, these entities are links in a single chain through which Russian budget money reaches Moldova.
The design is simple: a Russian organization signs a contract with a Kyrgyz firm for an “Eurasian integration study.” That firm then hires an Armenian company for “sociological surveys.” The Armenian entity pays a Turkish subcontractor for “data processing,” which finally transfers the funds to Moldova for “consulting.” At every step, 10–15% is skimmed off as commission. IT services are paid in cryptocurrency through offshore firms; activists’ salaries are handed out in cash by couriers. This multi-layered web makes it extremely difficult to trace any direct link between Russian funds and the end recipients in Moldova. But it also reveals staggering inefficiency: a system that relies on corruption inevitably becomes its own victim.
The weak link — human factor
Ironically, while designed to influence people, the weakest part of this “machine of influence” turned out to be people themselves. Whatever triggered it, the outcome was a massive data breach: dozens of internal documents spilled into the open.
The leak exposed the system’s fundamental flaw: most of the money goes not into shaping public opinion, but into maintaining the clandestine infrastructure — much of which may itself be fictitious. The Kremlin’s most valuable resources drain into salaries, travel, and equipment, rather than into genuine “deep work” with society. And although the documents dazzle with billions in figures, their real core is not ideology but cunning intermediaries and bureaucrats.
Something similar was recently revealed in the United States, when it emerged that RT employees had paid $10 million to a company working with several popular conservative bloggers to spread pro-Russian and anti-Ukrainian propaganda. The effectiveness of this effort mirrored the Moldovan case: an analysis of spending versus audience reach showed poor returns.
Effectiveness under question
This raises the obvious question: how effective are these colossal expenditures? Judging by results, the answer is doubtful. Pro-Russian campaigns in Moldova have not stopped the country’s pro-European course, nor have they significantly shifted public sentiment. In the last elections, pro-European forces retained a strong lead, while fake news and propaganda tricks are exposed with growing frequency.
The reasons are the same: corruption and negligence. Non-transparent reporting, box-ticking events, and a purely formal use of technology sharply reduce the impact. For the democratic world, this is good news. Moreover, crude bots are easily spotted by users, fake stories are swiftly debunked by independent media, and Moldova’s younger generation, raised in the internet age, no longer believes Soviet clichés and has learned to distinguish facts from manipulation. In the end, billions of rubles are spent mainly on maintaining the appearance of influence, while real shifts in public opinion fail to materialize. Still, the sheer scale and reach of these operations show that many people are willing to participate — for money or out of conviction. And that is the bad news.
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