As Russia sinks into war, the state budget runs deep red figures, and drones from Ukraine reach the Black Sea coast itself, a world of luxury grows in the shadow of Vladimir Putin's palace in Gelendzhik that is hardly to be surpassed in cynicism: Putin's wineries. They are not only an expression of personal preferences, but also monuments of self-glorification, financed by Putin's closest circle and supported by banks that have been known for years as the president's "cash friends."

The centerpiece is the winery "Krinitsa," just a few steps from Putin's Black Sea palace. With assets of over 27 billion rubles, it is now considered the most expensive winery in Russia - more valuable than the traditional brand "Massandra" in Crimea or the industrial giant "Kuban-Vino." The origin was rather simple: When Putin visited Silvio Berlusconi's villa in Sardinia in 2003, he liked the pomp so much that he brought the architect to Russia to build a copy - only bigger. Instead of a soccer field, there is an ice arena, instead of olive groves there are now 300 hectares of vines.

What began as a supposed hobby has become a network of companies - "Apex Jug," "Divnomorye," "Lazurnaya Yagoda," "Axis Investitionen," all brought together under the umbrella brand "Moe Vino" ("My Wine"). It is a construct without profit motive, a prestige project that exposes itself in its own balance sheets: "Krinitsa" alone has accumulated losses of over 10 billion rubles. In 2024, "Axis Investitionen" sold its bottles on average one third below production cost - wine as a subsidized business, while the municipalities of the region struggle for every ruble.

The raw numbers speak for themselves: Putin's wineries are a billion-ruble grave. According to published balance sheets, the assets of the seven companies involved add up to over 32 billion rubles, but the long-term liabilities are even higher - more than 35 billion. Instead of generating profits, the cellars accumulate losses year after year: "Lazurnaya Yagoda" with minus 5.6 billion rubles, "Axis Investitionen" with another minus 4.5 billion, even the smaller companies are writing deep red numbers. The only outlier is "Divnomorye AG," which shows a tiny surplus of 94 million rubles - peanuts compared to the billion-sized holes. In the end, there is a cumulative deficit of more than 10 billion rubles. In other words: while Russia in wartime has to turn every ruble twice, money flows into prestige projects that are economically built on sand - but politically serve the purpose of making the president shine with wine glasses, labels, and facades. Yet losses are secondary in Putin's world. What matters is the staging: The wines from "Divnomorskoje" and "Krinitsa" appear on the tables of international receptions. They were served at Macron's table, at Erdogan's, Xi Jinping's and Kim Jong Un's, they accompanied the BRICS summit in Kazan. A touch of diplomacy in the glass, even if experts classify the wines at best in the lower premium segment - solidly made, but without brilliance. It is the appearance that counts.

Even a drone attack at the end of August 2024, when debris caused a fire only 850 meters from the "Krinitsa" facility, changed nothing. While the population across Russia lives with the fear of attacks, 330 emergency workers and 82 vehicles, including a firefighting plane and a helicopter, were dispatched to Gelendzhik - an effort that says more about the priorities of the leadership than any budget debate. Wine tourism complex "White Cape" in Gelendzhik, project

In parallel the empire grows. In Gelendzhik the tourism complex "Bely Mys" ("White Cape") is being built, a gigantic wine Disneyland with museum, tasting halls, restaurants, its own promenade, and the largest wine store in the country. Financed by the bank "Rossija" - the financial institution of Putin's confidant Yuri Kovalchuk. Putin's people have also done thorough work in Crimea: The traditional "Massandra," with 11,000 hectares of vineyards and a million-bottle cellar, was sold in 2020 for 5 billion rubles to a subsidiary of the "Rossija" group. A symbolic price, experts estimate the real value at a multiple of that. Today "Massandra," "Novy Svet," and "Inkerman" are just as much under Kovalchuk's control as the Black Sea empire in Gelendzhik.

Everywhere the same pattern: historic enterprises are taken over with the help of special forces, veiled auctions, and straw men, only to then be integrated into Putin's personal cosmos of splendor. Every project carries the label "tourism" - with yacht harbors, VIP terraces, and sealed-off areas for the elite. In this way four new wine resorts are being created around Putin's palace, flanked by billion-ruble investments whose money sources always end up with the same names.

What is remarkable, however, is how strongly Putin's prestige projects depend on European know-how and supplies. For the expansion of "Krinitsa," isothermal stainless steel tanks were delivered by the French manufacturer Serap (Gorron, Pays-de-la-Loire). The barrique barrels come from some of the most renowned barrel makers in Europe: Seguin Moreau (Cognac, France), Cadus (Ladoix-Serrigny, Burgundy, France), Damy (Meursault, Burgundy, France), Ermitage (Forêt des Bertranges, France), Saury (Saint-Pantaléon-de-Larche, France), Taransaud (Merpins near Cognac and Beaune, France), Berthomieu/La Grange (Bertranges forest, France), as well as the Austrian cooperage Stockinger (Waidhofen an der Ybbs, Austria). Bottles and corks also come directly from France. In addition, there is personal expertise: In Gelendzhik the French oenologist David Pernet from Bordeaux regularly advises production, while in "Divnomorskoje" the Italian star oenologist Riccardo Cotarella was temporarily involved.

These are not major investments by European corporations, but targeted technical deliveries, equipment, and consulting services that are intended to raise Putin's wineries to an international level. Stainless steel tanks from France, barrels from Burgundy and Austria, corks and bottles from Western Europe - all of this ensures that the wine the Kremlin chief serves his guests is technically up to date. This makes clear: The warlord on the Black Sea does not feed his prestige solely from Russian resources, but from Western standards that enter the country through detours, intermediaries, and loopholes that render sanctions ineffective.

This is precisely where the true moral abyss lies: While people die in Ukraine every day under Russian bombs, while drones fall from the sky and an entire country lies in ruins, Putin toasts at receptions and banquets with wine that is half Russia, half Europe in its composition. "Made in Europe" - the label sticks to the glass with which the autocrat toasts the war and its victims. It is the cynical fusion of death and luxury that shows that morality has long since become a secondary matter.

The trail of these business dealings leads back to 2023 - at that time, the first indications of European suppliers and international consultants in Putin’s wine projects emerged. In 2024 and 2025, the evidence mounted that these structures were not just occasional contacts but had become a permanent feature of the prestige project.

It is a mirror image of contemporary Russia: A country at war, a budget in crisis - and yet those businesses that bring Putin personal joy are flourishing. The vines on the Black Sea bear no fruit for the people, but for the maintenance of power. That the losses accumulate to billions seems secondary. The Kremlin leader indulges in vineyards larger than those of his Italian role models, and palaces that consume more security resources than some Russian cities have budget. War, sanctions, recession - apparently all can be endured as long as the supreme commander has the right label in his glass at dinner.

Putin's wine fantasies can hardly be understood without a look at Italy. When he visited Silvio Berlusconi's villa "Certosa" in Sardinia in 2003, he was fascinated not only by the extravagant architecture, but also by the idea of combining politics and luxury wine. But while Berlusconi's estate, despite its excesses, remained a private retreat, Putin turned it into a political stage set: an oversized copy, bigger, flashier, conceived as a monument to his power. Italian top wineries such as Ornellaia or Antinori have earned their reputation through decades of work in international competition, their wines are found in restaurants from New York to Tokyo. Putin's "Krinitsa," on the other hand, remains a domestic product - expensive, but without influence on the world market. The winery is not there to generate prestige through quality, but through presence: a label on the Kremlin's banquet tables, not in the shelves of the trade.

The financial architecture behind Putin's wineries is also striking. While other Russian agricultural enterprises have struggled with exploding costs for seeds, fertilizers, and machinery since the start of sanctions, billions in loans and aid flow specifically into the Black Sea cellars. Above all, the bank "Rossija," known for years as the financial vehicle of Putin's closest confidants, plays a key role. It covers losses, grants long-term loans, and shifts balance sheet items so that the wineries never have to file for bankruptcy despite permanent deficits. For Russian agriculture this is a grotesque imbalance: While farmers in the heartland give up because they are denied loans, Putin's wines remain untouchable. They are less agricultural enterprises than part of a subsidy machine that secures capital flows within the power circle.

There is also a dimension that is hardly publicly discussed: the ecological one. The construction of "Krinitsa" and "Divnomorskoje" has left deep scars in one of the most sensitive coastal landscapes in Russia. Slopes on the Black Sea that were actually under strict landscape protection were leveled, soils removed, and watercourses diverted. Environmental groups documented the use of pesticides and the construction of kilometer-long pipelines with which groundwater was pumped into the vineyards during dry summer months - while in the surrounding towns drinking water was temporarily rationed. The contradiction is obvious: A region already suffering from climate change and water scarcity must shoulder additional burdens so that Putin's palace wines can thrive. Instead of sustainable prestige, what remains is an ecological footprint as deep as the political cynicism with which the project is run.

While European media outlets launch fundraising campaigns under dramatic slogans and often promise their investigative work only in connection with advance-payment drives, many of the truly sensitive entanglements — for example between Russia and Europe, or Trump’s shadow politics — remain unexamined. On the one hand, much remains in the dark because many media organizations no longer maintain their own networks or investigative structures in Russia. Instead, they rely on agency copy. This creates the paradoxical impression that alarm bells are ringing everywhere, yet the actual investigations into Putin’s palace economy, into European suppliers, or into sanctions ultimately have to be carried out by investigative journalists or independent exile reporters — without advance payment, at their own risk, with little support, but without delay.

To be continued .....