In the tumultuous years following the fall of the Soviet Union, Boris Berezovsky, a mathematician who transitioned into entrepreneurship, didn’t merely amass wealth; he shaped the very framework of contemporary Russia. Emerging from the shadows of academia, he became a formidable oligarch, exerting influence over media, politics, and even the presidency. Berezovsky was instrumental in securing Boris Yeltsin’s re-election, swaying public opinion via national television, and was pivotal in propelling the then little-known bureaucrat Vladimir Putin to power.

Then, his fortunes dramatically reversed.

In a matter of years, Berezovsky transitioned from a kingmaker to an exile, transforming from a billionaire insider to a target of dissidence. His empire crumbled, former allies turned adversaries, and his wealth dwindled amidst legal strife and political vendettas. By the time he was discovered dead in his UK residence in 2013, under enigmatic circumstances, he was reportedly destitute, isolated, and seeking forgiveness from the regime he had once helped construct.

Fast forward over a decade, Berezovsky’s story seems less like an isolated misfortune and more akin to a forewarning. Following Russia’s 2022 invasion of Ukraine, there is a discernible pattern: oligarchs, executives, and critics meeting dubious ends, whether through falls from windows, questionable “suicides,” or poisonings under suspicious conditions. Berezovsky was not merely an early victim but the precursor.

This Russian businessman’s saga serves as a stark reminder of how swiftly powerful allies can morph into perilous foes.

A Mathematician Turned Opportunist

Born in Moscow in 1946 to a Jewish family, Boris Berezovsky initially pursued a career in mathematics and engineering. He contributed significantly at the USSR Academy of Sciences, eventually leading a department at the Institute of Control Sciences. By the late 1980s, he had authored numerous scholarly papers and books.

Then came perestroika.

As Mikhail Gorbachev loosened restrictions on private enterprise, Berezovsky pivoted aggressively into business. In 1989, he co-founded LogoVAZ with Badri Patarkatsishvili, exploiting the economic chaos of the collapsing Soviet Union. The company used hyperinflation to its advantage, delaying payments while the ruble rapidly lost value.

By 1994, LogoVAZ had become Russia’s largest car dealership, closely tied to AvtoVAZ, the manufacturer behind the Lada brand. It was a classic Berezovsky move: find instability, monetize it.

Three decades later, that same company would come full circle. After Western sanctions following the Ukraine invasion, AvtoVAZ was effectively re-nationalized, returning to Kremlin control after foreign partners like Renault exited Russia. The playground that made Berezovsky rich is now firmly back in state hands.

Surviving Assassination… And Entering Power

Berezovsky’s rise was not without danger. In 1994, he survived a brutal car bombing that killed his driver and nearly took his own life. The attack marked his arrival into Russia’s most dangerous circles.

Soon after, he leveraged connections to gain access to President Boris Yeltsin’s inner circle. By the mid-1990s, Berezovsky had expanded into media, taking control of ORT (Channel One), Russia’s most influential television network.

This gave him something even more valuable than money: narrative control.

The “Davos Pact” And The Birth Of Modern Media Manipulation

In 1996, Berezovsky joined a group of oligarchs in what became known as the “Davos Pact,” a coordinated effort to ensure Boris Yeltsin’s re-election.

Facing a serious challenge from communist opposition, the oligarchs deployed their media empires to reshape public perception. Television coverage was manipulated, opponents were smeared, and fear of a return to Soviet rule was amplified relentlessly.

The strategy worked.

Yeltsin won. The oligarchs tightened their grip on the country. And a template was created for state-influenced media that still defines Russia today.

The Creation Of Vladimir Putin

By the late 1990s, Berezovsky had become part of an elite inner circle known as “The Family,” tasked with securing a successor to Boris Yeltsin.

That successor was Vladimir Putin.

Berezovsky had known Putin since the early 1990s and actively supported his rise. In 1999, he helped persuade Putin to accept the role of prime minister. He then used his media network to promote Putin ahead of the 2000 presidential election.

ORT became, in effect, a propaganda machine.

Putin won.

And almost immediately, the relationship collapsed.

Fast Friends, Faster Enemies

Within weeks of Putin taking office, Berezovsky publicly criticized his policies. Within months, he resigned from government and began opposing what he saw as authoritarian consolidation.

Putin, who had campaigned on curbing oligarch power, moved swiftly.

Investigations into Berezovsky’s business dealings began. Criminal charges followed. By 2001, Berezovsky fled Russia, eventually settling in the United Kingdom, where he was granted political asylum.

His assets in Russia were dismantled or seized. His media empire was absorbed by the state. His influence evaporated.

Exile, Courtroom Wars, And Financial Collapse

From London, Berezovsky reinvented himself as one of Putin’s most vocal critics. But his power never recovered.

He sold major assets, including his stake in ORT to Roman Abramovich, who then handed control to the Kremlin. He also exited his position in oil giant Sibneft for $1.3 billion.

That deal later sparked one of the largest civil cases in British legal history. Berezovsky sued Abramovich for more than £3 billion, claiming he had been coerced into selling at a discount.

He lost.

The ruling in 2012 was devastating, both financially and reputationally. By then, his net worth had already dropped sharply from an estimated $3 billion peak in the late 1990s.

Meanwhile, Russian courts convicted him in absentia on multiple charges, including fraud and embezzlement.

The Litvinenko Connection

Berezovsky’s orbit was also marked by one of the most shocking assassinations of the modern era.

Alexander Litvinenko, a former FSB agent who had accused Russian security services of targeting Berezovsky, was poisoned with radioactive polonium in London in 2006.

At the time, suspicions pointed toward the Kremlin. Those suspicions were later formalized.

In 2016, a UK public inquiry concluded that the assassination was “probably approved” by Vladimir Putin and security chief Nikolai Patrushev. In 2021, the European Court of Human Rights ruled that Russia was responsible.

Litvinenko had been living in a property owned by Berezovsky at the time of his death.

The Final Collapse

By the early 2010s, Berezovsky was facing mounting legal bills, asset seizures, and personal turmoil. A massive divorce settlement further drained his finances.

Reports suggested that by 2013, he was effectively broke.

In March of that year, he was found dead in his Berkshire home with a ligature around his neck. A post-mortem indicated death consistent with hanging, but the official ruling was an open verdict.

Friends described him as depressed and isolated.

In the days before his death, he had reportedly attempted to sell personal belongings, including artwork.

There were also reports of a letter sent to Vladimir Putin, asking for forgiveness.

Many Western analysts believe that letter, if it existed at all, was amplified or fabricated by Kremlin-linked sources as a warning to others: oppose the state, and you will end up bankrupt, broken, and begging.

The Abramovich Irony

One of the most striking modern updates to Berezovsky’s story involves Roman Abramovich.

Once a protégé and later courtroom rival, Abramovich ultimately faced his own reckoning. Following the 2022 invasion of Ukraine, he was sanctioned by the UK and EU, forced to sell Chelsea Football Club, and saw billions in assets frozen.

He even suffered a suspected poisoning during early peace negotiations.

In many ways, Abramovich’s trajectory echoes Berezovsky’s arc, though with a different endpoint.

The Prototype

More than a decade after his death, Boris Berezovsky’s story has taken on a new meaning. He is no longer just a disgraced oligarch who lost everything. He is the prototype for a system that rewards loyalty, punishes dissent, and leaves no room for former allies who fall out of line.

The men who built modern Russia believed they controlled it. Berezovsky learned, too late, that the system they created would eventually control them instead.