Regions
‘Were It Not For The Funerals…’: The War In a Small Town In the Urals
December 23, 2024
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Yakov Lurie
University of Amsterdam, Public Sociology Laboratory -
Sasha Kappinen
Public Sociology Laboratory
Based on ethnographic research of small-town Russia, sociologists Yakov Lurie and Sasha Kappinen challenge the idea of the war in Ukraine as a major turning point or defining political event.
The full analytical report of the research conducted by Public Sociology Laboratory is available here.
Since the start of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, the Public Sociology Laboratory has been studying Russian citizens’ perceptions of the Russia-Ukraine war using qualitative methods such as ethnographic interviews and participant observation. Our findings have been published in various media and analytical platforms.
Since the start of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, the Public Sociology Laboratory has been studying Russian citizens’ perceptions of the Russia-Ukraine war using qualitative methods such as ethnographic interviews and participant observation. Our findings have been published in various media and analytical platforms.
Townscape of a “typical” small town in Russia. January 2022. The streets of Cheryomushkin appeared untouched by the ongoing war, as if a researcher had traveled back in time to the pre-February 24, 2022 era. Photo Oleg Leynov.
To forget or not to forget?
In the antiwar discourse – produced by nongovernmental media outlets, political exiles, activist initiatives and other public antiwar actors – the full-scale war with Ukraine is widely seen as a boundary, dividing time into “before” and “after.” Nongovernmental media, like Meduza, openly resist oblivion by marking each day since February 24 to highlight the war’s ongoing disastrous impact, while normalization of the war is often criticized as unethical or part of the Kremlin’s strategy. Similarly, in prowar media, the war is framed as the central event, to be constantly followed.
Meanwhile, our own research, conducted in three Russian regions in summer and autumn 2023, reveals a reality that contrasts with such media portrayals: Russians generally, and some antiwar Russians in particular, try to forget the war and “live a normal life.”
As part of this research, our colleague at the Public Sociology Lab conducted a month of ethnographic fieldwork in early fall 2023, exploring how the war manifests itself – or does not manifest itself – in everyday life in Cheryomushkin (a fictional name), a small town in the Urals with a population of 12,000.
Indeed, it felt like Cheryomushkin was deliberately forgetting the ongoing war. The town’s streets showed no overt signs of militarization, save for a few faded flags and rare cars with “Z” stickers. Nor had our researcher witnessed any mentions of the war in conversations in public spaces.
The only exception was an episode in a local cafe where she overheard a group of former classmates toasting “to victory,” which sparked a brief conversation around the question of “when is this victory to come already” (Most of the quotes in this publication come from fieldnotes taken by our researcher, where she tried to capture the conversations as closely to the original as possible). The discussion then shifted to the then-recent news of Yevgeny Prigozhin’s death, but quickly faded, moving to everyday problems.
Public spaces in Cheryomushkin are scarce. As Alevtina Nikiforovna (all names are fictional), a retired woman working part-time as a cleaner, shared, the local community page on social media initially hosted discussions about the war, but critical comments were removed, one person was fined and fear silenced engagement. Residents also recalled early-war “patriotic” activities – ceremonies, funerals and volunteering – but by late summer 2023 such events had largely faded from public life.
In the antiwar discourse – produced by nongovernmental media outlets, political exiles, activist initiatives and other public antiwar actors – the full-scale war with Ukraine is widely seen as a boundary, dividing time into “before” and “after.” Nongovernmental media, like Meduza, openly resist oblivion by marking each day since February 24 to highlight the war’s ongoing disastrous impact, while normalization of the war is often criticized as unethical or part of the Kremlin’s strategy. Similarly, in prowar media, the war is framed as the central event, to be constantly followed.
Meanwhile, our own research, conducted in three Russian regions in summer and autumn 2023, reveals a reality that contrasts with such media portrayals: Russians generally, and some antiwar Russians in particular, try to forget the war and “live a normal life.”
As part of this research, our colleague at the Public Sociology Lab conducted a month of ethnographic fieldwork in early fall 2023, exploring how the war manifests itself – or does not manifest itself – in everyday life in Cheryomushkin (a fictional name), a small town in the Urals with a population of 12,000.
Indeed, it felt like Cheryomushkin was deliberately forgetting the ongoing war. The town’s streets showed no overt signs of militarization, save for a few faded flags and rare cars with “Z” stickers. Nor had our researcher witnessed any mentions of the war in conversations in public spaces.
The only exception was an episode in a local cafe where she overheard a group of former classmates toasting “to victory,” which sparked a brief conversation around the question of “when is this victory to come already” (Most of the quotes in this publication come from fieldnotes taken by our researcher, where she tried to capture the conversations as closely to the original as possible). The discussion then shifted to the then-recent news of Yevgeny Prigozhin’s death, but quickly faded, moving to everyday problems.
Public spaces in Cheryomushkin are scarce. As Alevtina Nikiforovna (all names are fictional), a retired woman working part-time as a cleaner, shared, the local community page on social media initially hosted discussions about the war, but critical comments were removed, one person was fined and fear silenced engagement. Residents also recalled early-war “patriotic” activities – ceremonies, funerals and volunteering – but by late summer 2023 such events had largely faded from public life.
“Even the announced war-related events that our researcher managed to find drew little interest.”
An information board at a house of culture in a small town in central Russia, 2024. (Published with permission from the author, who wished to remain anonymous). The small A4 sheet on the right advertises the “Volunteer Movement: Our Rear.” By the time our researcher visited Cheryomushkin, only faint remnants of such initiatives could be found.
A propaganda film about events in Bucha screened at the House of Culture had zero attendees. An outdoor film night promising patriotic content failed to materialize. A charity concert called “We Don’t Leave Our Boys Behind” (Svoikh ne brosayem), advertised as support for Russian troops, featured standard folk and pop performances with minimal references to the war. War-related themes are, with a few exceptions, being subsumed into routine formats of local cultural life, often existing only “on paper.”
In private settings residents seemed to protect themselves from discussing politics, using phrases like “let’s close the topic of politics” or “we’re simple people, we don’t understand these things.”
Does this near-total absence from the town’s visual landscape and everyday conversations mean that Cheryomushkin has truly ignored the war? Not quite. As another town resident shared, “one could forget about the war entirely if not for the news of deaths and the funerals.” The “if not” captures the tension between the desire to ignore the war and its undeniable presence.
We argue that while the war may not register for many Russians as a significant (geo)political event, it is nonetheless present in realms such as family and relationships, finances and death.
Tonya, a magic helper in the field
The unique access to ethnographic fieldwork in Cheryomushkin provided a glimpse behind the visible absence of the war in everyday life. Central to this access was Tonya, a young entrepreneur and close acquaintance of the researcher, who played an integral role in the project. A native of Cheryomushkin, Tonya owns the café Ulybka (“smile”) and the beauty salon Stil’ (“style”), both of which she has successfully managed for several years.
Tonya is a respected member of the local community with extensive social connections. Her businesses serve as social hubs where residents, from local officials to homemakers and drivers, gather for meals, celebrations and conversations. Beyond economic contributions, Tonya’s warmth, directness and engagement with people of all walks of life have earned her widespread respect.
At the same time, Tonya’s experience in larger cities, her higher education in Moscow and her interest in nongovernmental media and current events distinguish her from many locals. Though open about her antiwar views, Tonya skillfully navigates Cheryomushkin’s social norms, where political discussions are seen as unwelcome.
By introducing the researcher as a university friend, Tonya provided a level of trust and comfort that enabled candid conversations. In informal gatherings, such as visits to her salon staff’s homes or casual chats at her café, Tonya subtly steered conversations toward war-related topics, often referencing shared acquaintances on the front lines or recent news. These efforts shed light on how the war intersects with the town’s daily life but does not dominate it.
War through familiar lenses: Death and family
In the small, tightly knit town of Cheryomushkin, the war is impossible to ignore completely, even for those who try. Though, according to Tonya and her friends, only about 100 locals have been mobilized, volunteered or sent to the front from a nearby prison, almost every person in the town is directly or indirectly connected to someone affected by the war.
In private settings residents seemed to protect themselves from discussing politics, using phrases like “let’s close the topic of politics” or “we’re simple people, we don’t understand these things.”
Does this near-total absence from the town’s visual landscape and everyday conversations mean that Cheryomushkin has truly ignored the war? Not quite. As another town resident shared, “one could forget about the war entirely if not for the news of deaths and the funerals.” The “if not” captures the tension between the desire to ignore the war and its undeniable presence.
We argue that while the war may not register for many Russians as a significant (geo)political event, it is nonetheless present in realms such as family and relationships, finances and death.
Tonya, a magic helper in the field
The unique access to ethnographic fieldwork in Cheryomushkin provided a glimpse behind the visible absence of the war in everyday life. Central to this access was Tonya, a young entrepreneur and close acquaintance of the researcher, who played an integral role in the project. A native of Cheryomushkin, Tonya owns the café Ulybka (“smile”) and the beauty salon Stil’ (“style”), both of which she has successfully managed for several years.
Tonya is a respected member of the local community with extensive social connections. Her businesses serve as social hubs where residents, from local officials to homemakers and drivers, gather for meals, celebrations and conversations. Beyond economic contributions, Tonya’s warmth, directness and engagement with people of all walks of life have earned her widespread respect.
At the same time, Tonya’s experience in larger cities, her higher education in Moscow and her interest in nongovernmental media and current events distinguish her from many locals. Though open about her antiwar views, Tonya skillfully navigates Cheryomushkin’s social norms, where political discussions are seen as unwelcome.
By introducing the researcher as a university friend, Tonya provided a level of trust and comfort that enabled candid conversations. In informal gatherings, such as visits to her salon staff’s homes or casual chats at her café, Tonya subtly steered conversations toward war-related topics, often referencing shared acquaintances on the front lines or recent news. These efforts shed light on how the war intersects with the town’s daily life but does not dominate it.
War through familiar lenses: Death and family
In the small, tightly knit town of Cheryomushkin, the war is impossible to ignore completely, even for those who try. Though, according to Tonya and her friends, only about 100 locals have been mobilized, volunteered or sent to the front from a nearby prison, almost every person in the town is directly or indirectly connected to someone affected by the war.
“News of deaths, deployments or returns from the front spreads quickly. And in contrast to the anonymity possible in larger cities, detailed conversations about neighbors’ lives are part of the social fabric of Cheryomushkin.”
Deaths, in particular, are big news within the community. For example, according to accounts from the residents, the town mourned a beloved young teacher who died in a training accident just a few days after being mobilized. His death sparked collective grief and frustration, with people questioning the senselessness of his loss.
Conversations about deaths often include reflections on the young age of soldiers sent to the war. Lyuda, a beauty salon employee: “they’re sending kids off to fight!” Such discussions sometimes veer into abstractly blaming “them up there” for sacrificing ordinary lives to settle territorial disputes. However, only rarely is the Russian government criticized directly.
News of deaths – rather than geopolitical news – embed into “local time,” becoming reference points in memories. Zhanna, a nurse at the local hospital, in a conversation she had with Tonya and our researcher, reminisced: “one of our relatives, Vladik, died. He was torn apart… it was March when it happened, but they didn’t bring him back for burial until June.”
Lyubov Vasilievna, a retired woman, recalled the death of another young man whose body never made it back to Cheryomushkin. “He was such a good boy, played the accordion… There was nothing left to bury! A military shoe and inside the shoe – a leg!” she said.
She then quickly shifted from the personal tragedy to a broader familial context that held meaning for her: “his mother only had one son and she raised him alone, without a husband… One son and now she’s elderly… At least he could have left her a child. Girls, war is horrible!” For Lyubov Vasilievna, the young man’s death disrupted a social norm: he died before fulfilling what she saw as his duty to leave an offspring, and the integrity of the family was thus broken.
Private life events spark genuine interest, becoming hot topics of conversation and prompting moral judgments that reveal community norms about what is considered acceptable.
Conversations about deaths often include reflections on the young age of soldiers sent to the war. Lyuda, a beauty salon employee: “they’re sending kids off to fight!” Such discussions sometimes veer into abstractly blaming “them up there” for sacrificing ordinary lives to settle territorial disputes. However, only rarely is the Russian government criticized directly.
News of deaths – rather than geopolitical news – embed into “local time,” becoming reference points in memories. Zhanna, a nurse at the local hospital, in a conversation she had with Tonya and our researcher, reminisced: “one of our relatives, Vladik, died. He was torn apart… it was March when it happened, but they didn’t bring him back for burial until June.”
Lyubov Vasilievna, a retired woman, recalled the death of another young man whose body never made it back to Cheryomushkin. “He was such a good boy, played the accordion… There was nothing left to bury! A military shoe and inside the shoe – a leg!” she said.
She then quickly shifted from the personal tragedy to a broader familial context that held meaning for her: “his mother only had one son and she raised him alone, without a husband… One son and now she’s elderly… At least he could have left her a child. Girls, war is horrible!” For Lyubov Vasilievna, the young man’s death disrupted a social norm: he died before fulfilling what she saw as his duty to leave an offspring, and the integrity of the family was thus broken.
Private life events spark genuine interest, becoming hot topics of conversation and prompting moral judgments that reveal community norms about what is considered acceptable.
“One widely discussed case involved the widow of a deceased school teacher. She used the ‘coffin money’ to buy an expensive car and was seen dancing at a disco just a month after her husband’s death.”
A street with gas pipes. This type of gas infrastructure is typical in many small Russian towns. January 2022, Photo Oleg Leynov
Rumors of her relationships with other men soon spread, and many in the town condemned her behavior.
During a visit to Tonya’s home, this story was dissected by two friends who analyzed the widow’s age, the age gap with her late husband, her appearance, her new haircut and the brand of her car. Zhanna shared the prevailing sentiment, calling the widow a “loose woman” and “a party girl,” but ultimately offered a somewhat sympathetic conclusion: “but what else is she supposed to do? Life goes on for her, right?”
A similar case came up during a women’s gathering at the home of one of the beauty salon employees. The conversation turned to a woman named Petrova, who, according to rumors, was cheating on her husband who had gone to fight in the war. “We’ve got girls like this Petrova around here,” said Alyona, a nail technician, expressing her disapproval. “She took the money her husband sent and bought a car. And now she’s riding around in that car with her lover. And everyone knows it! He comes back from the war and she’s hopping around like a bunny, back and forth. As soon as he leaves, she’s at it again, damn it!”
Unlike Zhanna, who showed empathy toward the widow and offered her a kind of absolution, Ayona spoke about Petrova’s actions with disdain and condemnation. Again, the war disrupts the everyday order, infiltrating the familiar realm of relationships and prompting people to make moral judgments and recalibrate social norms.
War through familiar lenses: Money
A related central concern against Cheryomushkin’s economically modest backdrop, where many homes lack centralized water supply and gas, is money. Earnings, payouts and purchases tied to the war become public knowledge and fodder for debate. Residents discuss high salaries for serving on the front lines and compensation paid out for deaths. Kolya, a friend of Tonya, shared how a woman he knew married a prisoner who was sent to the front, only to inherit RUB 7 million after his death.
These financial narratives are often juxtaposed with tales of personal expenses, such as families taking out loans to equip their sons for deployment. At a friendly women’s gathering, Lyuda and Alyona had the following exchange:
Lyuda: Let me tell you more! I know someone who, when her son got sent to the [special military operation], took out a loan for RUB 100,000 to fully equip him, buy him all that damn gear…
Alyona: We had someone take out RUB 180,000! Just to get all that equipment…
Lyuda: … all that, all this crap.
During a visit to Tonya’s home, this story was dissected by two friends who analyzed the widow’s age, the age gap with her late husband, her appearance, her new haircut and the brand of her car. Zhanna shared the prevailing sentiment, calling the widow a “loose woman” and “a party girl,” but ultimately offered a somewhat sympathetic conclusion: “but what else is she supposed to do? Life goes on for her, right?”
A similar case came up during a women’s gathering at the home of one of the beauty salon employees. The conversation turned to a woman named Petrova, who, according to rumors, was cheating on her husband who had gone to fight in the war. “We’ve got girls like this Petrova around here,” said Alyona, a nail technician, expressing her disapproval. “She took the money her husband sent and bought a car. And now she’s riding around in that car with her lover. And everyone knows it! He comes back from the war and she’s hopping around like a bunny, back and forth. As soon as he leaves, she’s at it again, damn it!”
Unlike Zhanna, who showed empathy toward the widow and offered her a kind of absolution, Ayona spoke about Petrova’s actions with disdain and condemnation. Again, the war disrupts the everyday order, infiltrating the familiar realm of relationships and prompting people to make moral judgments and recalibrate social norms.
War through familiar lenses: Money
A related central concern against Cheryomushkin’s economically modest backdrop, where many homes lack centralized water supply and gas, is money. Earnings, payouts and purchases tied to the war become public knowledge and fodder for debate. Residents discuss high salaries for serving on the front lines and compensation paid out for deaths. Kolya, a friend of Tonya, shared how a woman he knew married a prisoner who was sent to the front, only to inherit RUB 7 million after his death.
These financial narratives are often juxtaposed with tales of personal expenses, such as families taking out loans to equip their sons for deployment. At a friendly women’s gathering, Lyuda and Alyona had the following exchange:
Lyuda: Let me tell you more! I know someone who, when her son got sent to the [special military operation], took out a loan for RUB 100,000 to fully equip him, buy him all that damn gear…
Alyona: We had someone take out RUB 180,000! Just to get all that equipment…
Lyuda: … all that, all this crap.
“Residents, women especially, actively weigh the perceived benefits of war-related earnings against the cost of life, health and integrity of family.”
Typical housing found in many Russian towns the size of Cheryomushkin. January 2022, Photo Oleg Leynov
As Zhanna put it, “No amount of money is worth a life.” The financial burdens placed on soldiers’ families also fuel feelings of injustice, which occasionally translate into critiques of the government. For example, when asked by our researcher why people should pay for soldiers’ equipment, Lyuda retorted, “are you asking me? Ask the government!...Putin does not give a shit about it.”
The war has also brought attention to the Ukrainian origins of some residents in Cheryomushkin. During a women’s gathering, the group discussed a local woman who had moved to the town from eastern Ukraine after armed conflict firsterupted in 2014.
Alyona and Marina expressed frustration, suggesting that people with Ukrainian passports enjoy greater financial benefits in Russia as asylum seekers: “mortgages, perks – she’s got it all now. For them, it’s ‘here you go,’ but for us, it’s ‘good luck, you get nothing.’” Interestingly, this distinction was framed purely in economic terms, not in political or ethnic ones. Throughout her time in Cheryomushkin, our researcher never heard anyone speak dismissively or suspiciously about residents with Ukrainian roots.
A similar discussion occurred among men when Vitya and Artyom talked about the cost of connecting homes to the gas supply in Cheryomushkin. “Gas in Russia is a fucking nightmare,” Vitya complained. “They’ll connect it, sure, but to get it into your house? Two hundred grand,” Artyom added.
Vitya then compared this to Ukraine: “guys at the front say, ‘pipes everywhere, gas all over Ukraine!’” Artyom chimes in, “even in the villages,” and Vitya agrees: “yeah, gas in every village in Ukraine!” This genuine indignation was sparked by disparities in basic utilities, while the Russian government’s portrayal of Ukrainians as geopolitical “enemies” did not factor into the conversation.
The war has also brought attention to the Ukrainian origins of some residents in Cheryomushkin. During a women’s gathering, the group discussed a local woman who had moved to the town from eastern Ukraine after armed conflict firsterupted in 2014.
Alyona and Marina expressed frustration, suggesting that people with Ukrainian passports enjoy greater financial benefits in Russia as asylum seekers: “mortgages, perks – she’s got it all now. For them, it’s ‘here you go,’ but for us, it’s ‘good luck, you get nothing.’” Interestingly, this distinction was framed purely in economic terms, not in political or ethnic ones. Throughout her time in Cheryomushkin, our researcher never heard anyone speak dismissively or suspiciously about residents with Ukrainian roots.
A similar discussion occurred among men when Vitya and Artyom talked about the cost of connecting homes to the gas supply in Cheryomushkin. “Gas in Russia is a fucking nightmare,” Vitya complained. “They’ll connect it, sure, but to get it into your house? Two hundred grand,” Artyom added.
Vitya then compared this to Ukraine: “guys at the front say, ‘pipes everywhere, gas all over Ukraine!’” Artyom chimes in, “even in the villages,” and Vitya agrees: “yeah, gas in every village in Ukraine!” This genuine indignation was sparked by disparities in basic utilities, while the Russian government’s portrayal of Ukrainians as geopolitical “enemies” did not factor into the conversation.
“Financial motivations – often the most relatable rationale – sometimes extend to explaining the war as a whole.”
In a conversation with Artyom, Vitya offered the following economic framing: “it’s useful for those at the top. Land, resources – it’s all about money! War is money, a way to launder it, that’s all! It’s simple: they’re destroying old weapons because they need the factories running, producing new ones!”
The three key realms through which the war permeates life in Cheryomushkin are interconnected. Death or the threat of it is a threat to family cohesion, while it also gives rise to financial narratives of gains and losses. Acquisitions, such as new cars or jewelry, become entangled in tales of marital infidelity. The war, framed as a potentially lucrative opportunity, is weighed against the value of one’s life and one’s role within the family.
Conclusion: Is the war an event?
In the Russian antiwar bubble, people are expected to understand the war’s geopolitical causes and consequences and stay informed about related developments like Western elections. However, for most residents of Cheryomushkin, the geopolitical aspect is irrelevant. Many, in fact, would adopt Alevtina Nikiforovna’s stance: “I don’t get involved in these conversations. I know I can’t change anything myself, so I just keep living as I always have.”
The war creates its own form of local eventfulness, entering the town’s life through familiar, relatable realms. Whereas a political YouTube channel subscriber might check out a daily analysis of troop movements or speculate on how American elections will impact the arms supplies to Ukraine, a Cheryomushkin resident is more likely to focus on the departure of a classmate to the front lines or a neighbor buying a new car.
It is within these locally significant events and themes that genuine emotions, moral judgments and criticisms emerge, including critiques of certain aspects of the war and, to some extent, the state.
Our ethnographic perspective undermines the idea that ordinary Russians are irredeemably brainwashed by propaganda. In fact, most Cheryomushkin residents could not care less about political propaganda narratives, just as they ignore patriotic film screenings. Ideally, most of them would prefer to simply avoid the war as an unwelcome subject.
The three key realms through which the war permeates life in Cheryomushkin are interconnected. Death or the threat of it is a threat to family cohesion, while it also gives rise to financial narratives of gains and losses. Acquisitions, such as new cars or jewelry, become entangled in tales of marital infidelity. The war, framed as a potentially lucrative opportunity, is weighed against the value of one’s life and one’s role within the family.
Conclusion: Is the war an event?
In the Russian antiwar bubble, people are expected to understand the war’s geopolitical causes and consequences and stay informed about related developments like Western elections. However, for most residents of Cheryomushkin, the geopolitical aspect is irrelevant. Many, in fact, would adopt Alevtina Nikiforovna’s stance: “I don’t get involved in these conversations. I know I can’t change anything myself, so I just keep living as I always have.”
The war creates its own form of local eventfulness, entering the town’s life through familiar, relatable realms. Whereas a political YouTube channel subscriber might check out a daily analysis of troop movements or speculate on how American elections will impact the arms supplies to Ukraine, a Cheryomushkin resident is more likely to focus on the departure of a classmate to the front lines or a neighbor buying a new car.
It is within these locally significant events and themes that genuine emotions, moral judgments and criticisms emerge, including critiques of certain aspects of the war and, to some extent, the state.
Our ethnographic perspective undermines the idea that ordinary Russians are irredeemably brainwashed by propaganda. In fact, most Cheryomushkin residents could not care less about political propaganda narratives, just as they ignore patriotic film screenings. Ideally, most of them would prefer to simply avoid the war as an unwelcome subject.
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