In Russia, the term "marketplace" is frequently used interchangeably with Wildberries.
What began as a family‑run online clothing shop has since evolved into a major infrastructure powerhouse: processing millions of orders each day, operating an extensive network of pickup points, maintaining its own logistics system, running a bank and an advertising network, and accumulating vast datasets on the purchasing behaviour of Russians.
However, as Wildberries grew, various scandals began to emerge around the company. It is no longer just about rude service at pickup points or lost parcels — issues that have long ceased to surprise anyone and now only elicit tired resignation. The problems have gone far beyond the disagreements between Tatiana Kim and Vladislav Bakalchuk, who once jointly ran the business.
While all these stories are interesting, what deserves much closer attention is the struggle of elites around the marketplace, accusations of raiding, schemes for extracting money from sellers, and increasingly loud talk that Wildberries has turned into a system of hidden deception of buyers.
At the center of this story is Tatiana Kim, her ex-husband Vladislav Bakalchuk, and the shadow of billionaire senator Suleyman Kerimov, whose name is closely linked to the redistribution of control over the e-commerce giant.
Wildberries has long ceased to be just an ordinary online store. It is now a real digital infrastructure of the country: for millions of Russians, the marketplace has become a kind of “new market” instead of shopping centers; for small businesses — an obligatory intermediary; for the state — an important system of domestic consumption under sanctions and the departure of Western brands.
Kim, Kerimov and the mysterious deal with Russ Outdoor
There is another important point that many underestimate or overlook: enormous financial flows pass through the platform. That is why control over the company has become not only a business issue but also one of political influence. Especially after the merger of Wildberries with the advertising operator Russ Outdoor. It was then that a real war broke out around the company.
In the summer of 2024, the situation around Wildberries sharply escalated. Vladislav Bakalchuk publicly stated that the company was being “squeezed out” through the merger with Russ Outdoor. Even Ramzan Kadyrov got involved in the conflict, bluntly calling what was happening a “brazen raiding takeover.”
But the most interesting developments came later. Several sources close to the Kremlin claimed that the architect of the deal was none other than Suleyman Kerimov — one of the most influential Russian oligarchs, long associated with Russ Outdoor. According to journalistic investigations and Telegram channels, Kerimov saw in Wildberries not just a successful marketplace, but a federal-scale infrastructure asset that had everything necessary for both business and many other purposes: data on millions of Russians, an advertising network, banking services, logistics, financial flows, and influence on the consumer market.
Sources claimed that a new group of influence linked to Russ and major political players had formed around Tatiana Kim. Independent media even discussed versions of close relations between Kim and people from Kerimov’s circle. There were also quite transparent hints at Putin’s own involvement in the deal — on Kerimov’s side. This also explained why even Ramzan Kadyrov could not help Bakalchuk.
Officially, none of this was confirmed. But the very fact that a war broke out around an online store involving Kadyrov, the Kremlin, senators, and major advertising structures shows the scale of the stakes.
Then events accelerated rapidly, and courts began redistributing assets. In the spring of 2025, the court transferred Vladislav Bakalchuk’s share to Tatiana Kim, effectively making her the sole owner of Wildberries. Bakalchuk tried to challenge the decision but achieved little success.
The story of Bakalchuk’s attempts to find justice is interesting in itself, but the conflict ultimately showed the main thing: Wildberries is no longer a family business, but an object of struggle between major influence groups. It was at this point that Kerimov’s name surfaced again in the public sphere. There is no direct official confirmation of Kerimov’s control over Wildberries. However, in the media and Telegram channels, the version of his interest in the advertising and logistics circuit around the marketplace is persistently discussed. Especially after the merger with Russ Outdoor — an asset that many analysts consider close to major financial and political groups.
“Wildberries is robbing us”
Then another story began: in the public sphere, stories from Russians that can be reduced to the formula “Wildberries is robbing us” started appearing more and more often. When analyzing these stories, several stable schemes emerge that confirm: something is clearly wrong with the marketplace, and customers’ complaints are not far from the truth.
The main reason is that Wildberries has gradually turned from a cheap marketplace into a system of hidden fees. Complaints come from three sides at once — buyers, sellers, and Wildberries employees themselves. And almost everyone says the same thing: the marketplace shifts risks downward and takes profits upward.
One of the most scandalous stories is different prices depending on the payment method. For a long time, Wildberries effectively penalized buyers for paying with Visa and Mastercard while promoting “correct” payment methods. Users perceived this as a hidden commission.
It got worse. There were mass complaints about money being debited from previously linked cards. Clients claimed that funds were debited even after the card was removed from the account. Russian courts recognized some of these practices as illegal. In fact, the marketplace began to monetize not only goods but also the buyer’s access to a “normal” price.
If for buyers Wildberries is more of an annoying factor, for sellers it is often a real nightmare. Sellers have been complaining for years about opaque fines, sudden blocks, missing goods from warehouses, imposed advertising services, inability to get support, and automatic debits.
The scandal with “gray promotion schemes” became particularly loud. Wildberries accused sellers of manipulating advertising and began mass debiting money — we are talking about hundreds of millions of rubles. But the sellers themselves claimed the opposite: the platform had for years created an opaque promotion system where without constant additional payments the goods simply disappear from search results.
The scheme works like this: a seller joins the platform and initially gets sales. But then the algorithms cut impressions, and Wildberries offers advertising. If the seller does not buy it, the goods quickly “die” without advertising, commissions grow, and fines continue. As a result, the marketplace begins to earn not on the sale of goods, but on the sellers’ dependence on the algorithms.
There is another problem that strongly resembles an organized scheme — the disappearance of goods in warehouses. Sellers regularly talk about strange losses: goods “not found,” boxes disappeared, acceptance not carried out, returns damaged, goods recognized as defective. At the same time, it is extremely difficult to obtain compensation. After the fire at the warehouse in Shushary, the situation became even tougher. Many sellers stated that they were effectively forced to abandon their claims. For small businesses, this looked like a classic scheme: collective risks — private profits.
Critics describe Wildberries’ business model simply: all risks are shifted downward. Warehouse burned down? Losses can be shifted to sellers. Goods stolen? Figure it out yourself. Customer refused? You pay. The system works in such a way that the marketplace itself always stays in the black.
When talking about the marketplace, it is impossible to ignore another topic — counterfeits and so-called “copies.” Wildberries has long been accused of the platform being flooded with fakes and copies of goods. On forums and Reddit, complaints from artists, designers, and brands regularly appear: their products are copied, and the marketplace reacts extremely sluggishly.
The mechanics are simple: a popular product appears, dozens of sellers copy the card, cheap Chinese analogues are brought in, the original drowns in the search results. But the marketplace receives a commission in any case — sales do not stop, although for the buyer it turns into a lottery: a beautiful photo in the card and a completely different product in reality.
Why it still works
The main psychological trick of Wildberries is the feeling of constant benefit. Discounts, “burning” prices, timers, promotions — the entire system is built so that the user buys impulsively.
But many sellers have long admitted that a significant part of the discounts is artificial. The price is first inflated, then a “70% discount” is drawn. As a result, the Russian is sure that he is saving — although he often overpays for cheap Chinese goods with a huge markup.
There is another factor: the authorities and regulatory bodies that are supposed to monitor what is happening on marketplaces turn a blind eye to all violations. The reason is simple: Wildberries is too big. The company has become critically important for the wartime economy, as it alleviates several problems at once: fills the domestic market with what in Russia is called “import substitution,” and also creates employment, develops logistics and digital payments.
Destroying such a system means hitting millions of buyers and hundreds of thousands of sellers. That is why conflicts around Wildberries long remained an internal war of elites, and not the subject of a tough state investigation.
Today, Tatiana Kim has effectively consolidated control over the company, and courts continue to reject Vladislav Bakalchuk’s claims. All this, as everyone understands, did not happen without the participation of such an influential figure as Suleyman Kerimov — without powerful support at the very top, disputes over ownership of the marketplace would have simply drowned in litigation.
It would seem that the conflict is over, Wildberries has recovered from the turbulence it caused and stabilized its operations. But the market is sure: the real struggle is only beginning. Because Wildberries is no longer an online store. It is data on millions of Russians, advertising infrastructure, a financial system, logistics, and huge cash flows.
And that means — an ideal asset for the Russian elite. But while those at the top divide billions and influence, down below the old story continues: buyers overpay, sellers complain about extortions, and the marketplace continues to grow — because there is simply no alternative for millions of Russians.
