Since its brutal subjugation in the early 2000s, Russia has simultaneously succeeded and failed in establishing a stable Chechnya. It succeeded in crushing most of the armed resistance in the country, and it expelled many of those who were left to Turkey and the Middle East. But it also created a regime in Grozny that is troubled under the weight of its own contradictions and lack of vision. 

The ties Ramzan Kadyrov established—facilitated by Russia’s broader influence in Europe and the Middle East—that once helped him suppress opposition now appear to have diminished. The ease with which Russian state agents from Chechnya kept a tight grip on Chechen diasporas in Europe under the pretence of fighting terrorism—often in plain sight of European intelligence—no longer exists, at least not to the extent it did before Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine. 

Prior to 2022, a narrative of peace prevailed in Chechnya. The years of war and suffering were framed as a closed chapter. Public messaging emphasized stability, unity, and rebuilding, with a strong focus on moving forward under the leadership that brought an end to the conflict. However, this carefully constructed narrative began to unravel with the onset of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine. Kadyrov abandoned the discourse of stability and instead pivoted toward mobilization, urging Chechens at home and abroad to fight for Russia. In this revised narrative, Chechnya was no longer a postwar success story, but a frontline in a broader existential struggle against the West, global Zionism, and Wahhabism. The latter term is often used to describe exiled Salafist opposition figures based in Turkey and Europe.

Broadly speaking, those engaged in the Chechen struggle against Russian control can be categorized into three main political currents. The first comprises proponents of reestablishing an independent, fully sovereign, and secular Chechen Republic—Ichkeria. The second current consists of an alliance that advocates for a Chechen state with an Islamic identity, though their alliance in its current form has only emerged over the past few years. The third consists of various Islamist movements that seek to establish a transnational Islamic Khilafa across the North Caucasus, with Chechnya envisioned as one of its constituent provinces. 

However, this broad categorization risks oversimplifying a far more fluid reality. In particular, the boundaries between the secular Ichkerian camp and those advocating for an Islamic Chechen state with an undefined stance toward Russia are neither static nor absolute. Over the past few years—especially since the onset of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine—many figures who once identified with a secular, independent Ichkerian vision have gradually shifted toward more religiously framed positions. This shift has often been less about ideological conviction than about practical adaptation: a response to the perceived ineffectiveness of secular strategies, the fragmentation of old networks, and the need to forge new alliances and narratives in a rapidly changing geopolitical context. As such, the rise of Islamic discourse among some former secularists reflects not just a religious turn, but a political recalibration in response to evolving circumstances and strategic constraints.

Currently the Ichkerian government-in-exile is split into two competing factions: one led by Akhmed Zakaev and the other by Akhyad Idigov, the co-chairman of the presidium of the exile government. The rift between those factions and fighters in Ukraine became more pronounced following Akhmed Zakaev’s February 2022 declaration of his readiness to help the Ukrainian government by sending Chechen volunteers from Europe. This announcement was met with criticism or considered premature by commanders of Chechen battalions already operating in Ukraine.

The second current occupies an intermediate ideological position, advocating for an Islamic Chechnya. Unlike the conventionally secular Ichkerian camp, it envisions Chechen statehood grounded in Islamic principles. However, it stops short of embracing the expansive, transnational ambitions of the jihadist-terrorist movements seeking a broader North Caucasian Imarat. Its activities and rhetoric often appear less driven by rigid doctrinal commitments than by adaptive strategies in response to shifting political dynamics and practical exigencies on the ground. As such, this current represents a hybridized orientation—religiously framed but politically malleable—bridging the gap between a steadily weakening secular nationalism and radical Islamism. Notably, while this second current does not explicitly align itself with transnational Islamist organizations, its occasional emphasis on religious legitimacy and political adaptability bears an unspoken resemblance to the strategic ethos of the Muslim Brotherhood—favouring incremental influence, flexible alliances, and the embedding of traditional Sunni Islamic principles within evolving political contexts.

For extremist Islamists, Chechnya represents more than just a homeland of the Chechen people; it is a symbolic battleground where, in their ideological vision, Islamic governance through Sharia law must ultimately be imposed. They perceive the current Chechen leadership—particularly the pro-Moscow regime of Ramzan Kadyrov—as betraying Islam by aligning with secular and non-Muslim powers. Likewise, they view traditional religious figures in Chechnya, many of whom are affiliated with Sufi Islam, not merely as political opponents but as heretics. Sufism, in its essence, is considered by those Salafist ideologues to be bid’ah (illegitimate religious innovation), and therefore tantamount to kufr (disbelief) or outright apostasy.

Although they legitimize their opposition to the existing Chechen religious establishment in Grozny by labelling them as apostates, they also operate as transnational actors engaged in spreading extremist Salafist ideology, influencing Chechen diasporas across Europe, and promoting anti-democratic rhetoric. Their activities include broadcasting fatwa programs ranging from condemnations of witchcraft to declarations that holding European citizenship is incompatible with Islamic principles. Their condemnation extends not only to secular Chechen activists—particularly those in Europe who advocate for a secular Chechnya—but also to Chechen fighters in Ukraine, who, in their view, are not engaging in genuine jihad, which they believe should take place in regions like the Middle East or the North Caucasus, but are instead fighting in Ukraine for financial gain.

Out of the three currents, extremist Islamist networks appear to be gaining the most traction within segments of the Chechen diaspora in Europe. This is mostly due to their extensive presence across multiple social media platforms, their almost daily engagement in religious guidance, but also their visible involvement in charitable activities—including claims of wiring funds to African countries as well as Chechens in Syria and Iraq. They disseminate Salafist content that closely mirrors that of known extremist preachers, often evading close monitoring, as their content is delivered in Russian and Chechen. These networks also devote significant attention to Middle Eastern politics, often framing regional conflicts through a religious lens that reinforces their ideological worldview and resonates with their followers.

Although this current openly opposes all those who do not support a Salafist Islamic Chechnya—including secular nationalists and Chechen fighters aligned with Ukraine—it is notably the one that seems to unsettle officials in Grozny the most. This is evidenced by the disproportionate attention and hostility it receives in pro-Kadyrov media, where these groups are frequently denounced, mocked, or framed as a growing threat to the stability of Chechnya and Chechen identity.

In Chechnya, Ramzan Kadyrov now faces a future marked by the gradual loss of the tools that once secured his authority. Where loyalty was once maintained through a blend of fear, patronage, and symbolic gestures, visible cracks have begun to emerge. As new voices rise and criticism becomes more pronounced, Kadyrov’s grip appears increasingly fragile. His ability to maintain control now depends on whether he can adapt his leadership to a changing landscape, where the power he once exercised with ease is slipping from his hands. Yet, just as his rise to power was not his own decision, the course of his future does not lie in his hands either. It remains subject to the will of those in Moscow who installed him and retain the authority to remove him when he no longer serves their interests.