On March 22, 2024, Russia experienced one of its most devastating terrorist attacks when four assailants targeted Crocus City Hall in Moscow. The attackers opened fire on concertgoers awaiting a performance by the Russian rock band “Picnic” and then set the venue ablaze. The assault resulted in the deaths of 145 people and injured over 500, making it Russia’s second-worst terrorist incident after the Beslan school siege.
Initially, Russian officials attempted to attribute the attack to Ukrainian intelligence, fitting a broader narrative of external threats. However, by October 2024, Alexander Bortnikov, head of the Federal Security Service (FSB), admitted that the Afghan branch of ISIS (ISIS-K) had orchestrated the attack. This shift in narrative represented a significant departure from the earlier emphasis on Ukrainian culpability, however this shift has not been as widely discussed in the media.
The assailants’ Tajik origins only complicated matters. Already facing significant xenophobia, Central Asian migrant communities became the immediate target of heightened scrutiny and hostility. Within weeks of the attack, Russian authorities ramped up police raids and border checks, particularly targeting Tajik nationals. The Russian government introduced new measures granting police the power to expel migrants without court orders, resulting in mass deportations and intensified public suspicion towards these communities.
By December 2024, the labour market was feeling the effects of the crackdown. With millions of Central Asian workers employed in construction, agriculture, and other essential sectors, Russia’s own economic pressures were further aggravated by this approach. The crackdown also had serious implications for the economies of Central Asian countries, particularly Tajikistan, which relies heavily on remittances from migrant workers in Russia. The aftermath of the last military draft in Russia, which resulted in a massive exodus of working age people from Russia, was complicated by the pressure the Russian relocants were putting on the Central Asian countries.
The attack’s repercussions extended beyond migrant policies. Security experts have raised concerns about ISIS-K’s ability to strike at the heart of Russia, suggesting the group’s capacity for launching sophisticated and large-scale operations. Regional security dynamics are shifting as neighbouring countries consider their own vulnerabilities in light of these developments. With Russia’s attention split between its war effort in Ukraine and the evolving terrorist threat within its own borders, the Kremlin’s capacity to maintain control is increasingly questioned.
Ultimately, the Crocus City Hall attack has heightened tensions within Russian society and magnified existing fractures. As Moscow continues to grapple with its own domestic challenges, it is clear that both internal and external security concerns will remain central to its policies going forward. However, we have not seen as much coverage as one could have imagined from the trieals of the attackers or the follow up investigations. While the Crocus City Hall attack remains one of the deadlies terrorist attacks on Russia’s soil, it has faded away from the public eye remarkably fast.
Crocus City Hall: Moscow Controls Conflict Narratives
Moscow has demonstrated time and again that it is perfectly capable of framing any conflict to suit its broader political and military objectives. The way the Kremlin swiftly pinned blame for the Crocus City Hall attack on Ukraine is a prime example of this. It’s a tactic rooted in the same old strategy of constructing external enemies to justify aggressive internal policies. Instead of grappling with uncomfortable questions about domestic vulnerabilities, the blame is conveniently redirected. What is notable is how readily this narrative is accepted by the apparatus of power, while public engagement remains muted.
Even the transparency—if it can be called that—of Russia’s initial counterterrorism response did little to stir genuine public concern. The authorities were quick to show that they had a handle on the situation, even if in a violent and heavy-handed manner. But there was no resulting outcry, no significant calls for policy change, and certainly no push for counterterrorism transparency. The Kremlin’s performance of strength was enough to quiet any potential public outcry before it had a chance to form.
Perhaps most telling is the absence of any real interest from the media space. The attack appears to have been swallowed by the news cycle, as if it was just another disposable headline rather than a significant security breach. There are only two plausible explanations: either the Kremlin has deliberately shut down broader discussion of the incident, or the public’s attention has simply moved on, distracted by the never-ending stream of more pressing narratives. The silence, intentional or not, serves Moscow’s interests all the same.
The Crocus City Hall attack exemplifies the Kremlin’s adeptness at manipulating narratives to suit its strategic interests. By swiftly attributing blame to Ukraine, the Russian authorities effectively controlled the discourse, ensuring that uncomfortable questions about domestic vulnerabilities remained sidelined. The lack of public outcry and the muted media response emphasise a troubling dynamic: the Kremlin’s securitisation is not only about controlling threats but also about controlling the perception of those threats. As the tragedy of Crocus City Hall fades from the public consciousness, it becomes clear that Moscow’s ability to manage both narrative and policy remains a potent tool for consolidating power, always at the expense of truth and accountability.