How Russia’s Technical Commission Is Pushing Europe into Digital Isolation

Investigations reveal: The State Technical Commission of the Russian Federation – Gosudarstvennaya Tekhnicheskaya Komissiya, or GosTekhKomissiya for short – is far more than a body for device certification. It is the invisible gear in Putin’s war economy – and one of the most dangerous instruments of power operating in the shadows of state bureaucracy. No agency stands more centrally between technology and strategy, between classification and war machinery. And none operates so inconspicuously – yet with such far-reaching consequences for Europe. Founded in 1992 and located at Znamenka Street 19 in Moscow, it decides what in Russia is considered a “state secret” – and what is not. What technology may be imported. What software is classified as secure. What components may be installed in state or military networks. Ministers, deputy intelligence chiefs, strategists – 23 members in total, all directly subordinate to the Russian president. Their decisions are binding for authorities, courts, and companies – a technocratic absolutism. An internal document confirms the central role of this institution. It states that the commission is not part of an intelligence service in the traditional sense – but it possesses broad powers of control to protect sensitive data, defend against technical infiltration, and monitor communication networks, IT infrastructure, and software. It licenses companies, certifies devices, sets standards – and decides which technologies are deemed a “threat to national security.” A term that is infinitely elastic – and that’s precisely its purpose.

What sounds like a regulatory agency is in fact the nerve center of a system that has already begun to export its architecture. The document explicitly names: Belarus, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan. With these countries, Russia is seeking to harmonize control laws – based on an authoritarian understanding of “information sovereignty.” The goal is not only to protect its own data, but to build a digital fortress against any form of Western influence. A fortress made up of protocols, signatures, software bans, and licensing obligations – but operating like a closed system of control, discipline, and military preparation. How concretely this power operates was shown most recently in a seemingly technical dispute at Russian customs. It involved a forging press, manufactured by the Austrian company GFM, imported via a Spanish front company to the AZK Group in Izhevsk. The question of whether it should be classified as rotating or radial seemed bureaucratic – but it determined whether the machine should have been allowed into the country at all. Behind the customs code lies the classification: civilian use, dual use, security-relevant. And who makes that classification? The GosTekhKomissiya.

It appears on no invoice, is listed on no delivery slip – and yet it is present in every screw. Without its approval, no security-relevant system in Russia operates, no military production line runs, no state-controlled communication channel is activated. It decides what is considered “compromisable,” what is classified, which devices from foreign companies are approved or rejected. In its official self-description – according to the leaked document – it even claims to inspect whether imported equipment contains hidden “police modes,” that is, functions for remote shutdown or surveillance.

This makes GosTekhKomissiya more than just a technical inspection authority. It is the strategic gatekeeper of everything in Russia that deals with communication, data, or technology. And it is the body that does not merely circumvent sanctions – it neutralizes them. Because it decides whether a Western device on Russian soil is even considered Western. Its classification makes it possible for a machine from Europe to be rebranded through legal redefinition as a “Russian special technology” – and thereby fall outside the scope of export bans. The fact that the AZK Group even sought classification of the GFM machine shows: they know the leeway – and they test the limits. The fact that it became a dispute shows how tightly legal definitional power, economic interests, and military use are intertwined. Without the commission’s approval, even a 40-year-old monster from Austria would be nothing more than scrap metal. A warning is urgently needed about a flourishing shadow market for mobile surveillance, compromised SIM cards, and disguised micro-telephony systems – all produced or inspected in Russia. In the occupied regions of Ukraine, mysterious unbranded SIM cards with Russian area codes appeared, clearly linked to surveillance purposes. This supports the internal report’s claim that a shadow market for mobile surveillance is growing in Russia. The commission itself acknowledges that many of these devices enter circulation via third countries – and contain extensive wiretapping capabilities. The prosecution of such practices is “relatively lenient,” the report notes dryly. For Europe, this development is a double alarm bell: first, because sanctions are rendered meaningless if technical classifications are replaced by authoritarian arbitrariness. Second, because a control system is taking hold that is also becoming attractive to third countries – especially in regions where the West seeks to promote democratic standards. What sounds like technical self-protection turns out to be exported architecture of repression. How serious the threat is was recently seen in Rotterdam: on July 10, 2025, a 43-year-old Russian citizen was sentenced to three years in prison for passing sensitive data from the Dutch high-tech manufacturer ASML to contacts in Russia. The man, who transmitted production information about microchips via the Signal app, was found guilty of violating international sanctions. Although he was acquitted of receiving payment, the court emphasized how dangerous the transmission of technology could be: it could “contribute to the strengthening of Russia’s military and strategic capabilities.” ASML is one of the world’s leading manufacturers of machines for chip production – and thus a target for the kind of technology acquisition that bodies like GosTekhKomissiya systematically exploit. The case shows: while Europe works with export bans, Russia is already working to infiltrate the architecture of Western high technology from within. The GosTekhKomissiya does not steer tanks. But it regulates the system that makes tanks possible. Its power lies in its invisibility – and that is what makes it so dangerous. As long as European companies – knowingly or out of ignorance – are involved in technical supply chains that end up in Izhevsk or Perm, every sanction remains a paper tiger. As long as authoritarian states adopt Russian control architecture, our foreign policy becomes rhetoric. Europe must finally understand: the next threat will not come as a missile, but as a certificate. And it begins in an office with no sign – at Znamenka Street 19, Moscow.

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