Moskvitch 8 — Russia’s Automotive Pride That Nobody Wants (and Isn’t Really Russian Anyway)

If you are searching for the crowning achievement of Russian engineering, something that might make even the Lada Niva blush, the Moskvitch 8 is not it. In truth, it is a rebadged JAC Sehol X8 Plus from China, hastily assembled in Russia with a new badge and a thin layer of patriotic branding. But fear not—at least one person has actually bought one. Just one.

Two weeks after the Moskvitch 8’s launch, trumpeted with great fanfare, sales across the entire country amount to a single unit. Exactly one buyer decided this seven-seat SUV, priced north of three million rubles, was worth owning. Welcome to the age of mass production, minus the mass.

The lone purchase came in mid-August. Since then—silence. No one else has felt compelled to get behind the wheel. The notion of a people’s car seems to have been lost somewhere between the language barrier of imported parts and the unforgiving math of a household budget.

So what is the Moskvitch 8 really? On paper, it looks imposing: 4,824 millimeters long, 1,870 wide, and 1,756 high. There is a bold LED grille, two-tone leather interior, digital displays, wireless charging, and a 360-degree camera system. It sounds like a spacecraft, until you look closer and realize there is nothing Russian about it.

The truth is simple: the Moskvitch 8 is nothing more than a Chinese-built JAC Sehol X8 Plus, shipped to Russia in kit form and screwed together locally. The process is closer to IKEA furniture assembly than genuine automotive manufacturing, except instead of a bookshelf you end up with a large SUV—and instead of a screwdriver, a little self-deception.

Under the hood sits a 174-horsepower GDI petrol engine paired with a seven-speed dual-clutch gearbox. Prices start at 2.98 million rubles (about 30,000 euros). At dealerships, the only sound accompanying this so-called flagship is the whistle of the wind and the quiet sighs of sales staff.