From demilitarisation to “satanisation”

Neither the Kremlin, nor the soldiers of the Russian army know why they are fighting in Ukraine. Putin and his associates change their rhetoric about the purpose of this war every fortnight. Photo: Oleg Elkov / Shutterstock

This political U-turn was again stated by Putin in 2007 during his speech at the Munich Security Conference, where he criticised the hegemony of the United States and its supposed goal to build a unipolar world. Ironically from today’s perspective, Putin also used his speech to criticise the West for engaging in senseless wars.

Death at the price of an automobile

Today we know all too well that by calling the collapse of the Soviet Union the greatest catastrophe of the 20th century, Putin articulated Russia’s imperial ambitions. These first appeared during Russia’s war against Georgia in 2008. However, while in 2007 the political elite gathered at the Munich Security Conference was listening to Putin with shock and awe, the period that followed demonstrated how not many truly understood his words. In the decade that followed, we would hear expressions of great concern, which essentially summed up the West’s reaction towards Russia’s military aggressions. Arguably, this could be interpreted as a continuation of a policy of appeasement.

After February 24th 2022 it has become crystal clear that Putin’s second term, or possibly his whole rule, is better reflected in a different statement. This one was made at a meeting of the Valdai Discussion Club in Sochi in 2018. At that time, when answering a question on the consequences of a nuclear confrontation with the West, Putin said the following: “We would be victims of an aggression and would get to heaven as martyrs, while those who initiated such aggression would just die and not even have time to repent.” This aggressive response was then awarded with a huge ovation.

While analysing these statements we should remember that they are more than just the rhetoric of an aging satrap. They all return to the fore later, such as in the 2018 documentary World Order 2018 produced by Kremlin propagandist Vladimir Solovyov, which is based on interviews with Putin. In the film, Putin shares his catastrophic interpretations of the consequences of a nuclear war. Namely, the end of human civilisation as we know it. Indicatively, through these statements Putin has drawn the following conclusion: what use would the world be without Russia?

This shift within Putin’s official narrative is more of a shift from the geopolitical thinking that exploits the concepts of alliances and domination towards a sort of political mysticism. This means that for over 20 years of Putin’s rule, he and his associates have undergone an evolution from perceived genius strategists (especially by some western politicians and analysts) towards martyr-like mystical figures. This language allows Putin to be more like the biblical prophet Elijah, who, according to scripture, entered heaven alive, “by fire”.

However, Putin’s prophecy remains somewhat problematic. It remains quite unclear what the purpose of this martyr-like death would be. Thus, there is an “ontological vacuum” which is best seen in the attempts to define the elusive and volatile purpose of what Russia calls a “special military operation”. Speaking directly, neither the Kremlin, nor the soldiers of the Russian army, the so-called mobiks, know why they are fighting in Ukraine. Putin and his associates change their rhetoric about the purpose of this war every fortnight. This is happening to the point that even the most loyal Kremlin commentator cannot keep up with the changes in the argumentation.

Truth be told, in this quasi-mystical reality of the military operation, the most rational and pragmatic behaviour appears to be displayed by the Wagner Group – the private military units led by Yevgeny Prigozhin, made up largely of inmates. These convicts know all too well that in Ukraine they are fighting for their personal freedom. It has been promised to them, should they survive the battlefield where they are used as pure cannon fodder.

Equally paradoxical is the fact that for many of the mobilised Russians the only rational purpose of this war is not survival but death. Only the families of the fallen (in Russian popularly known as “Cargo 200”) whose bodies will not be left behind on the steppe or buried in some nameless ditch, will be able to receive financial compensation and purchase something such as a much desired car – perhaps a white Lada Granta. To put it simply, the brutal reality faced by the Russian soldiers (in Ukraine derogatively called “orcs”) is that of an upside-down world. Namely, criminals are the ones who are promised freedom, while others are offered death – not at any price, but at the price of an automobile. 

Good vs Evil

Even a cursory analysis of the official Russian discourse explaining the causes and purpose of Moscow’s military aggression in Ukraine shows the complete unpreparedness of the Russian military and political command for a long-term military campaign. Instead, a situation has emerged in which the authors of propaganda messages are starting to believe their own lies. All of this, combined with a great amount of corruption, which is an integral part of Russia’s political system, has led to the breakdown of the official interpretation of the war and an urgent need to create new fictional explanations regarding the situation on the front line. Like a kaleidoscope rotating at high speed, there have been many new, often contradictory, interpretations of the causes of the war since February last year.

The natural first choice of the Kremlin was to use old Soviet propaganda and present the war against Ukraine as a war with (neo)fascists and “Banderites”. Arguments like “denazification” and demilitarisation were made to Russian society, which was at that time still spectating the war comfortably in front of televisions. However, it quickly turned out that these concepts were not enough to build an efficient wartime marketing strategy. Even the propagandists on air were quite often getting lost in their own arguments.

To reduce the damage, the Russian propaganda machine switched into attack mode, which is unquestionably its favourite state of being. This entails complete semantic chaos spiced up with irrational conspiracy theories. As a result, Russian media consumers were offered an indigestible stew. With a lack of military success on the front line, the Russian propaganda machine adjusted its arguments for the intervention and replaced them with arguments for the defence of the Russian Federation.

This new rhetoric also reflected a change in role for the recipients of Russian propaganda. At first the war was presented to Russian society as a form of illusion. It was limited to the television screen with performances by the authorities, with citizens serving as spectators and experiencing some kind of ecstasy connected with the “triumph”. However, as time passed, these performances turned into some kind of immersive show in which the spectators had no choice but to become a part of the events. To make things worse, these events increasingly turned out to involve real death. This happened in the autumn of 2022 when Putin introduced mass mobilisation (officially called “partial”). The reality of this upside-down world is no longer just the experience of those who are fighting and losing their lives in Donbas, but is shared with those who now live in the Russian Federation. 

In fact, it was the massive number of fallen Russian soldiers that forced a change in the propaganda rhetoric. Once the bagged corpses of mobilised men, be they factory workers, miners, or IT specialists, started returning to Russia, any interpretation of the war as a simple defensive operation against a weak opponent simply stopped working.

The decision was then made to reformulate the purpose of the war, which since then has turned into an existential confrontation of good versus evil. This argumentation is based on the most ultimate and rudimentary assumptions. It is a Manichean vision in which the Russian state, embodied by its ruler (Putin), is on the good side and fights against evil, which is embodied by the collective West and its Ukrainian “slaves”. In this existential fight only one solution is possible – good must prevail. This thinking derives from a historical, even biblical, logic, which allowed the special military operation (in Russian called by its abbreviation “SVO”) to turn, at least semi-officially, into a holy military operation (which in Russian can also be expressed through the SVO abbreviation).

End of history

In his 1959 book titled Critique and Crisis, the German historian Reinhard Koselleck analysed the process of the development of the early modern state. In his view it was driven by the conflict between representatives of absolute power and those of emerging bourgeois society, often operating secretively through networks such as the Freemasons or Bavarian Illuminati. These pro-Enlightenment forces, as Koselleck argued, profited from a new approach to history which began to be perceived as a process. What is important here is that the challenge to absolute power in the Enlightenment period allowed people to start distinguishing between the past and present, as well as to think about what was still to come. This new approach to history, directed at the future, created the foundations for a utopian faith in progress, which became characteristic of modern times.

Koselleck’s theory proves useful in the analysis of the structure of political discourses in Putin’s Russia. When looking at 2022 we can say that for Russia it was a time of accelerated “demodernisation”, caused by unprecedented western sanctions. Yet, it was also a time of cementing the dictatorial structure of power, which was best expressed in the words of Vyacheslav Volodin: “There is Putin, there is Russia, there is no Putin, there is no Russia.” Keep in mind, though, Volodin said that in 2014 when Putin’s approval rating was at its highest with 86 per cent of support. Nonetheless, in 2023, when we are already one year into the war in Ukraine, these words have also not lost their power. The only difference today is that social support for the political system no longer matters in Russia. Dictatorial power has already become fully consolidated around Putin, who is the sole pillar of the system.

The “demodernised” dictatorship system which is now in place in Russia should thus be seen as a mutation of absolute power. Putin is the absolute, lone leader. To use Dmitry Peskov’s words from 2018, “[Putin] is sitting on Europe’s political Olympus.” Koselleck shows that the consequences of such a state of affairs include a conflict of interest that is created by the absolute power. This is naturally opposed by civil society. In Putin’s Russia, just like in 18th century Europe, this conflict is presented through the prism of a fight between good and evil, even though this is actually a purely political conflict.

Internally, the only real opponent in Putin’s system was Alexei Navalny. Here is another paradox: Navalny, imprisoned for the last two years, is the only real politician and regime opponent who stayed in Russia. This of course does not belittle the courage of others like Vladimir Kara-Murza and Ilya Yashin, who have also been detained by the regime and are now behind bars.

The regional structures created by Navalny, that is the social movement outlawed by the authorities that is now underground, turned into a group of clandestine organisations united by an imperative to fight the corrupt dictatorship and act against the war. As stated before, the Enlightenment forces were different from the absolutist regimes because of their future orientation. In Russia we see something similar: Navalny and members of his movement call for a Russia without Putin. They call it “a great Russia of the future”, meaning Russia without corruption and violent authorities – a Russia with social justice and prosperity for all. Like centuries ago in European monarchies, in today’s Russia dictatorial authorities are being confronted by a futuristic utopia that is envisioned by civil society. 

The other side of the barricade is occupied by the regime forces, which voluntarily entered the path of demodernisation. This process started much earlier than February 2022. Vladislav Surkov’s 2019 manifesto titled “Putin’s long state”, for example, talks about a “deep nation” to counterbalance “the deep state”. A deep nation entails a kind of popular folk mass that potentially has its origins all the way back to prehistoric times. These mystical people supposedly proceed the establishment of state structures and at the same time define them. Surkov sees them as the core of what constitutes Russia and what attracts proponents of all political projects. Regardless of whether Russia will be a socialist, liberal or conservative state – it will always be a result of the triumph of the nation.

The core of this thinking is the assumption that this process has been in place and its result is already here: it is called Putinism. Surkov’s manifesto can thus be seen as the best characterisation of the Putin regime’s supposed virtue, presenting its structure as complete, politically effective and definite. Consequently, there is no more need to create futuristic utopias about a brave new world. Putinism has built a model of the Russian state envisioned for decades, if not centuries. In this way, Putinism has ended history for all who are subordinate to it. 

The real end

Surkov’s text should indeed be treated as a kind of post-modernist manifesto. At the same time, it is difficult not to notice the author’s intuition in catching the trajectory of an ageing dictatorship. Already after three months of war Putin moved from a game of rhetoric on the end of history to a real and cruel end for those who are fighting on the battlefield. However, as mentioned earlier, a change also took place in the discourse of the authorities and their propagandists. This started when they began to define the war as an existential confrontation. For the most radical believers in Putinism, demodernisation has since turned into “depostmodernisation”.

Specifically, such key figures of Kremlin propaganda as Solovyov, Dmitry Kiselyov and Margarita Simonyan have all been creating messages directed at millions of passive recipients. For quite some time their activities have ceased to be solely a game and have turned into concrete calls to use nuclear weapons in Ukraine. Such calls are made despite their authors’ full awareness of the consequences of a nuclear confrontation with the West, which would mean nothing else but an end of history for all people.

It turns out, however, that in the framework of the logic of the existential confrontation between good and evil there is acceptance regarding the destruction of the world. This is the case because Putin is not only at war with Navalny and his movement. His regime is ready for a total confrontation. This outlook is based on the assumption that one side belongs to Putin, while the other is that of the rest of the world. This second force is naturally seen as evil. That is why quasi-religious language has started to be seen in the Kremlin’s public discourse. This includes references to the special military operation as a holy war (but not only).

Putin’s comparisons of Russians to martyrs have led to a redefinition of the concept of an enemy. As a result, throughout 2022 Ukrainians, or even more broadly the whole collective West, were presented in Russia as “demons”. Maria Zakharova, the spokeswoman of Russia’s foreign ministry, said that the decision of Volodymyr Zelenskyy to deprive 13 Orthodox priests who support the Russian aggression of Ukrainian citizenship was “satanic”. In fact, references to Zelenskyy as the “devil” are commonplace on Russian propaganda TV programmes.

When listening to the radio or reading articles online, Russians can come across the statements of Roman Silantyev, a sociologist at Moscow State Linguistic University. He claims outright that a new religion, called “Ukrainism”, is being born in Ukraine now. In his view, it is a mixture of neo-paganism and Satanism, which is something that resembles exoteric Nazism with a dash of Viking culture. Examples of this neo-pagan Satanism are reported to include rituals involving burning the faces of “brothers in arms” among members of the Azov Battalion. These propaganda slogans are immediately transmitted to the population at large, such as claims that the soldiers who are fighting in Ukraine are Russian saints “fighting Satan”.

Traditionally, Satan is also said to be hidden in products which are sent to Russia from the West, like in the “Huggy Wuggy” plush toys. Thus, acts of burning these toys became very popular in Russia and are presented as the burning of demonic creatures brought to Russia from the rotten West. This image of the enemy through the prism of Satanism has been created also thanks to a plethora of conspiracy theories, which show that today’s Russia has reached the point of delusional paranoia on a mass scale.

When Zakharova once falsely accused Margaret Thatcher of supporting a coup aimed at reducing the Russian population to 15 million, we could sense it was manipulative rhetoric designed to influence the thinking of Russian society. However, the situation is now different. Today, those who publicly express their discontent with the war are called “foreign agents”, who – just like the Illuminati centuries ago – are said to be secretly promoting cosmopolitan values within society.

In the same vein, Putin himself has made numerous public references to the “golden billion theory”, which suggests that Russia’s economic troubles are the result of an international conspiracy. This explanation is now also used as a geopolitical argument, as in the case of Grandpa Vanga (Дед Ванга), apparently a former KGB officer and a clairvoyant. Vanga is presented to millions of Russian viewers on the main TV channels as a military expert who foresees oncoming changes on the front line. He also reassures society that there will be no “Third World War”. However, when Vanga “predicted” that Zelenskyy would run away from Ukraine on September 17th or 18th 2022 and this “prediction” did not take place, he was fired from the NTV station.

Once the Satanic conspiracy theories settled in society, we could notice that the level of cynicism also went down. This is because many people simply believe what they hear and see. The situation seems to be the opposite for those who create the propaganda content. Some of them, like the former president and prime minister, Dmitry Medvedev, have undergone a huge transformation and are now among the most ardent political commentators on Twitter. Medvedev, for example, wrote in one of his tweets that the Ukrainian authorities are now open enemies of Jesus Christ and Eastern Orthodoxy and should be reminded of the words from the Book of Ezekiel: “for the disgusting things you have done, so that you will know that I am the Lord”.

Medvedev is not yet a religious fanatic but has not yet subjected himself to depostmodernisation but plays with its forms. Just like Jules in Pulp Fiction who before killing his victims would also quote from the Book of Ezekiel: “And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy My brothers. And you will know I am the Lord.”

Putting these tweets aside, as deplorable as they are, it appears that the Russo-Ukrainian War has served as a catalyst for Russia’s depostmodernisation. The changes in the Russian discourse show a dynamic mechanism by which meanings of words and concepts are now shifting. One year of military activities has resulted in the transformation of Putin’s rhetoric from geopolitical games to mystical thinking. In this framework, the fictional and fluid purposes of this war, which included the demilitarisation of Ukraine, suddenly turned into an existential transformation of good versus evil. This transfer created a new eschatology of the Russian regime, in which life is overestimated and all that matters is martyrdom and death while fighting with the devil.

We can say that this totalitarian power has created a totalitarian war. The essence of depostmodernisation lies in a shift in discourse, which has been caused by a radical return of reality in the form of war and the subsequent failures of the Russian army and its mercenaries on the battlefield. Thousands of dead and wounded – with the same perspective for the next thousands – have narrowed the field of discourse from “anything goes” to simple terms: us versus them, good versus evil, life versus death. In the 21st century the Russian regime, through the mouth of its lead propagandist Solovyov, shouts: viva la muerte!

Wojciech Siegień works in the department of education sciences at University of Białystok (Poland). His main interests include educational ideologies and the different processes of militarisation in post-Soviet countries.

narratives, Putinism, Russia, Vladimir Putin