Society
‘I Did Not Agree to These Demands and, Of Course, I Did Not Intend to Follow Them’
April 24, 2025
- Anonymous
Since 2023, the course Fundamentals of Russian Statehood, developed at the behest of the Kremlin to shape “correct” political views among young people, has been mandatory for first-year students at all Russian universities. A course instructor, whose name is left out, talks about how students react to propaganda and whether an honest dialogue is possible at Russian universities today.
The original text in Russian was published in Republic and is being republished here with small changes and with their permission.
In 2021, I started teaching in the Russian history department. In the third year there, when the new discipline was introduced for first-year students – Fundamentals of Russian Statehood – our department had to distribute the additional workload among instructors. In the end, I was given more than almost everyone else, as before that I had had a minimal workload.
I did not refuse. I liked working with students, and I thought even the most poorly designed course could be adapted to suit the teacher and, more importantly, the needs of the students.
In 2021, I started teaching in the Russian history department. In the third year there, when the new discipline was introduced for first-year students – Fundamentals of Russian Statehood – our department had to distribute the additional workload among instructors. In the end, I was given more than almost everyone else, as before that I had had a minimal workload.
I did not refuse. I liked working with students, and I thought even the most poorly designed course could be adapted to suit the teacher and, more importantly, the needs of the students.
The "Foundations of Russian Statehood" textbook for students with natural sciences and engineering/technical majors. Source: VK
Getting to know the course
When I first read the course program and manual, I was not surprised. By that time, Conversations about Important Things had already appeared in schools, and I assumed Fundamentals of Russian Statehood was meant to be its university analogue. And it was.
Having studied the course materials, I felt a sense of relief – I could work with it. In my experience, students are rarely interested in manuals and programs, and they open the textbook only when assigned (this textbook was especially hard to use because we had it only in electronic form). At first glance, the structure of the course looked harmless.
The course was divided into five blocks: “What Is Russia,” “The Russian State-Civilization,” “The Russian Worldview and Values of the Russian Civilization,” “[Russia’s] Political System” and “Challenges of the Future and the Development of Russia.” I immediately began to think about how to touch on each section in the first lesson to make the students understand that our course would be about history, culture and socialization, not ideology.
Ideological conflict
My personal historical and political convictions were incongruous with what was prescribed to be presented within the course. This is unsurprising: the man who developed it – Andrei Polosin, the current deputy rector of RANEPA – is no historian; he is a “political technologist.”
Fundamentals of Russian Statehood ignores modern historical knowledge, democratic values and even common sense. Instead, it reproduces popular narratives pushed by the Russian regime. It reflects the Putinism that has taken shape in Russia, with its combination of conservative and nationalistic ideas.
When I first read the course program and manual, I was not surprised. By that time, Conversations about Important Things had already appeared in schools, and I assumed Fundamentals of Russian Statehood was meant to be its university analogue. And it was.
Having studied the course materials, I felt a sense of relief – I could work with it. In my experience, students are rarely interested in manuals and programs, and they open the textbook only when assigned (this textbook was especially hard to use because we had it only in electronic form). At first glance, the structure of the course looked harmless.
The course was divided into five blocks: “What Is Russia,” “The Russian State-Civilization,” “The Russian Worldview and Values of the Russian Civilization,” “[Russia’s] Political System” and “Challenges of the Future and the Development of Russia.” I immediately began to think about how to touch on each section in the first lesson to make the students understand that our course would be about history, culture and socialization, not ideology.
Ideological conflict
My personal historical and political convictions were incongruous with what was prescribed to be presented within the course. This is unsurprising: the man who developed it – Andrei Polosin, the current deputy rector of RANEPA – is no historian; he is a “political technologist.”
Fundamentals of Russian Statehood ignores modern historical knowledge, democratic values and even common sense. Instead, it reproduces popular narratives pushed by the Russian regime. It reflects the Putinism that has taken shape in Russia, with its combination of conservative and nationalistic ideas.
“The course constructs ‘Russian identity’ as the basis for self-consciousness, advocates confrontation with the ‘corrupt West’, expresses anxiety about ‘traditional values’ and expands on conspiracy theories.”
All this is deeply alien to me.
Pressure from above
Before the start of the academic year, we, the instructors who were to teach this course, were gathered by a deputy rector. No discussion followed, however. It was rather a monologue in which he outlined several, in his view, key guidelines.
Firstly, the idea that Russia is waging a just struggle against our enemies, the collective West and “puppet Ukraine,” was supposed to run like a thread through the entire course. Secondly, any discussions within the course are unacceptable: the teacher must clearly convey the given theses and choose their words in such a way as not to sow doubts in the minds of students. Thirdly, be careful: there may be inspections, and there may be children of bureaucrats or siloviki in the classroom, who, “if something happens,” may complain to their parents.
I did not agree to these demands and, of course, I did not intend to follow them. I was on firm legal ground: the federal education law in Russia guarantees teachers freedom in teaching, as well as the right to express their own opinion and to choose and use pedagogically appropriate forms and methods of teaching.
Moreover, the deputy rector seemingly had never even seen the course program: many topics do not touch on the current war at all or do so only indirectly, so his “thread” simply did not go with the fabric of the course. In addition, discussions are explicitly listed among the recommended forms of assessing learning.
‘Developed state instinct’
For me as a historian, the greatest internal resistance was caused by the second section, “The Russian State-Civilization” (see Russia.Post about it here). Its main idea is the existence of a special Russian civilization with its own unique identity.
Pressure from above
Before the start of the academic year, we, the instructors who were to teach this course, were gathered by a deputy rector. No discussion followed, however. It was rather a monologue in which he outlined several, in his view, key guidelines.
Firstly, the idea that Russia is waging a just struggle against our enemies, the collective West and “puppet Ukraine,” was supposed to run like a thread through the entire course. Secondly, any discussions within the course are unacceptable: the teacher must clearly convey the given theses and choose their words in such a way as not to sow doubts in the minds of students. Thirdly, be careful: there may be inspections, and there may be children of bureaucrats or siloviki in the classroom, who, “if something happens,” may complain to their parents.
I did not agree to these demands and, of course, I did not intend to follow them. I was on firm legal ground: the federal education law in Russia guarantees teachers freedom in teaching, as well as the right to express their own opinion and to choose and use pedagogically appropriate forms and methods of teaching.
Moreover, the deputy rector seemingly had never even seen the course program: many topics do not touch on the current war at all or do so only indirectly, so his “thread” simply did not go with the fabric of the course. In addition, discussions are explicitly listed among the recommended forms of assessing learning.
‘Developed state instinct’
For me as a historian, the greatest internal resistance was caused by the second section, “The Russian State-Civilization” (see Russia.Post about it here). Its main idea is the existence of a special Russian civilization with its own unique identity.
“The course authors argue that the distinguishing feature of a civilization is the degree to which it is ‘rooted in history’, and here Russia supposedly has no competition.”
A discussion on Komsomolskaya Pravda radio: "'Fundamentals of Russian Statehood.' How is the new subject being implemented in Russian universities? What is it for? And how effectively does it meet the needs of society and students themselves?" October 2024. Source: VK
Its neighbors, they say, have shallow roots: “only later, retroactively, will [its neighbors] insist on their original, eternal existence, searching for mythical ancestors and constructing a national historical memory – to the best of their ideologists’ abilities.”
The section lists the so-called “building blocks” of Russian civilization: the symphony of the Orthodox Church and secular power, a developed “state instinct,” the ability of the nation to consolidate for the sake of a common cause, the mercy and justice of the Orthodox sovereign toward non-Russian peoples and other faiths, etc.
History is presented here as a series of heroic victories, with truth and fiction intertwined, while not a word is said about controversial and painful moments of Russia’s past. The message: the “civilization” faces challenges from time to time, but it seems to overcome each one.
There is nothing about the “building blocks” of serfdom, the peasant revolts in the 17th century, the struggle between the state and the Church for power (with the eventual suppression of the latter) or palace coups. The description of the contribution of the Decembrists was especially striking: “[they did] a considerable amount of work for the state as explorers of Siberia and other regions of the empire.” My word!
The course authors cleverly avoid inconvenient episodes.
The section lists the so-called “building blocks” of Russian civilization: the symphony of the Orthodox Church and secular power, a developed “state instinct,” the ability of the nation to consolidate for the sake of a common cause, the mercy and justice of the Orthodox sovereign toward non-Russian peoples and other faiths, etc.
History is presented here as a series of heroic victories, with truth and fiction intertwined, while not a word is said about controversial and painful moments of Russia’s past. The message: the “civilization” faces challenges from time to time, but it seems to overcome each one.
There is nothing about the “building blocks” of serfdom, the peasant revolts in the 17th century, the struggle between the state and the Church for power (with the eventual suppression of the latter) or palace coups. The description of the contribution of the Decembrists was especially striking: “[they did] a considerable amount of work for the state as explorers of Siberia and other regions of the empire.” My word!
The course authors cleverly avoid inconvenient episodes.
“Nothing is said about the secret protocol to the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact with the division of spheres of influence in Europe. Only: ‘Hitler attacked Poland, starting World War II’.”
Of course, I had to present all this differently. I did not want to lie and especially not mislead the students. There is no sense in talking about a “unified Russian civilization” and even less about its singularity, messianism or perfection.
The problem is not that the course is full of unreliable facts (though there are some), but in how exactly they are selected, interpreted and framed, with allusions, pompous phrases and toothless criticism about even the most tragic pages of Russian history.
Some things are deliberately omitted, some are presented as insignificant, some are accompanied by a “wise” conclusion. The result is not an academic course, but a compote of facts, opinions, cliches and myths passed off as the truth.
The problem is not that the course is full of unreliable facts (though there are some), but in how exactly they are selected, interpreted and framed, with allusions, pompous phrases and toothless criticism about even the most tragic pages of Russian history.
Some things are deliberately omitted, some are presented as insignificant, some are accompanied by a “wise” conclusion. The result is not an academic course, but a compote of facts, opinions, cliches and myths passed off as the truth.
Andrei Polosin, deputy rector of RANEPA and academic director of the DNA of Russia project. Source: VK
Strategy of ‘silent resistance’
I had my own vision of how to structure the course work so the ideological flair would not intrude. In each block, we studied facts about Russia that could actually be useful: its geography, history, culture and political system.
Instead of reports on dubious “heroes of Russia,” groups of students prepared stories about outstanding figures from various fields, deciding for themselves who Russia’s national heroes are. When watching the mandatory, openly propagandistic clips about the “DNA of Russia,” students looked for distorted facts and discussed them.
We held discussions about the most suitable form of government for Russia, discussed problems of the state and the ways the students might contribute to solving them.
I had my own vision of how to structure the course work so the ideological flair would not intrude. In each block, we studied facts about Russia that could actually be useful: its geography, history, culture and political system.
Instead of reports on dubious “heroes of Russia,” groups of students prepared stories about outstanding figures from various fields, deciding for themselves who Russia’s national heroes are. When watching the mandatory, openly propagandistic clips about the “DNA of Russia,” students looked for distorted facts and discussed them.
We held discussions about the most suitable form of government for Russia, discussed problems of the state and the ways the students might contribute to solving them.
“Luckily, decisions handed down from above in Russia are not only poorly implemented but also poorly monitored: in two years of teaching the course, no one came to observe my class.”
Students’ reaction
I taught the course to students with nonhumanitarian majors. Most of them came with the conviction that Fundamentals of Russian Statehood is “brainwashing” and useless.
But attentive students understood from the very first lesson that I was on their side, not on the side of those who put together and pushed this course. Because of this they appreciated my approach. Some openly shared their opposition views. For example, one student wrote a report on Valeriya Novodvorskaya as an outstanding national figure, and another student on Alexei Navalny.
There were also attempts to test the boundaries of what was permitted. One student said he wanted to give a report on a neo-Nazi activist, “Tesak,” apparently hoping to embarrass me and thus get out of the assignment. I allowed him to read the report, which he apparently did not expect, as he had not even prepared properly. After the presentation, I gave comments and asked for reports even on provocative topics to be prepared thoroughly, at least so we would have something to debate.
Some students are so used to the formality of the educational process that it sometimes let them down. Once I assigned a presentation on Russia’s constitutional system with an analysis of the realization of the Constitution in practice. Almost everyone did great, but one girl apparently just downloaded a report [off the internet] without even reading it. She had that Russia is a glorious democracy with functioning institutions.
She finished reading this text to the subdued laughter of the classroom, as much of it contradicted what we had discussed earlier. When she finished, she added sheepishly that she did not actually agree with what was written; she just had not had time to prepare.
Attitudes toward the war among students and teachers
There was no single position among students on the war, and this was reflected in reticence and ambiguous reactions to it.
I taught the course to students with nonhumanitarian majors. Most of them came with the conviction that Fundamentals of Russian Statehood is “brainwashing” and useless.
But attentive students understood from the very first lesson that I was on their side, not on the side of those who put together and pushed this course. Because of this they appreciated my approach. Some openly shared their opposition views. For example, one student wrote a report on Valeriya Novodvorskaya as an outstanding national figure, and another student on Alexei Navalny.
There were also attempts to test the boundaries of what was permitted. One student said he wanted to give a report on a neo-Nazi activist, “Tesak,” apparently hoping to embarrass me and thus get out of the assignment. I allowed him to read the report, which he apparently did not expect, as he had not even prepared properly. After the presentation, I gave comments and asked for reports even on provocative topics to be prepared thoroughly, at least so we would have something to debate.
Some students are so used to the formality of the educational process that it sometimes let them down. Once I assigned a presentation on Russia’s constitutional system with an analysis of the realization of the Constitution in practice. Almost everyone did great, but one girl apparently just downloaded a report [off the internet] without even reading it. She had that Russia is a glorious democracy with functioning institutions.
She finished reading this text to the subdued laughter of the classroom, as much of it contradicted what we had discussed earlier. When she finished, she added sheepishly that she did not actually agree with what was written; she just had not had time to prepare.
Attitudes toward the war among students and teachers
There was no single position among students on the war, and this was reflected in reticence and ambiguous reactions to it.
“No one spoke out openly in support of the war or the objectives declared by the authorities, but direct antiwar statements were also rare.”
Such caution, I think, is explained by several reasons.
Firstly, students are afraid of the consequences for expressing opposition views. This did not happen in my classes, but the university is known to have punished students for such statements. The department and university leadership regularly reminds students that public criticism is unacceptable. Secondly, first-year students, who are just beginning to socialize in a new environment, avoid conflicts and fear denunciations. Thirdly, many do not have a clear position. Foreign policy seems complicated and distant to them, and the patriotic rhetoric familiar from school causes apathy rather than interest.
They are more willing to discuss problems in Russia. They have everyday concerns and are worried about shrinking opportunities: the exit from Russia of their favorite brands, the decline in academic mobility, obstacles to traveling abroad, the loss of ties with Ukrainian friends with whom they used to correspond and play games online.
Against the background of such discussions, my main idea about the tragic nature and inadmissibility of war did not raise any questions. I think everyone agreed with it, and at the end of the day everyone decided for themselves what to think and how to act.
I know that some students volunteer, helping to collect humanitarian aid or weave nets for soldiers fighting in Ukraine. This is unsurprising, as these are the very actions that are actively presented today as patriotic.
Everyone passes
Most of the instructors in our department are convinced statists, at least in public. At department meetings, a wave of approving nods accompanies every jingoistic thought expressed by the department head, and it seems that everyone sincerely considers Fundamentals of Russian Statehood a discipline necessary to instill patriotism.
The midterm assessment deserves mention.
Firstly, students are afraid of the consequences for expressing opposition views. This did not happen in my classes, but the university is known to have punished students for such statements. The department and university leadership regularly reminds students that public criticism is unacceptable. Secondly, first-year students, who are just beginning to socialize in a new environment, avoid conflicts and fear denunciations. Thirdly, many do not have a clear position. Foreign policy seems complicated and distant to them, and the patriotic rhetoric familiar from school causes apathy rather than interest.
They are more willing to discuss problems in Russia. They have everyday concerns and are worried about shrinking opportunities: the exit from Russia of their favorite brands, the decline in academic mobility, obstacles to traveling abroad, the loss of ties with Ukrainian friends with whom they used to correspond and play games online.
Against the background of such discussions, my main idea about the tragic nature and inadmissibility of war did not raise any questions. I think everyone agreed with it, and at the end of the day everyone decided for themselves what to think and how to act.
I know that some students volunteer, helping to collect humanitarian aid or weave nets for soldiers fighting in Ukraine. This is unsurprising, as these are the very actions that are actively presented today as patriotic.
Everyone passes
Most of the instructors in our department are convinced statists, at least in public. At department meetings, a wave of approving nods accompanies every jingoistic thought expressed by the department head, and it seems that everyone sincerely considers Fundamentals of Russian Statehood a discipline necessary to instill patriotism.
The midterm assessment deserves mention.
“We were given clear instructions by the department: everyone passes regardless of their knowledge of the material.”
The Foundations of Russian Statehood textbook for students in the social sciences and humanities. Source: VK
I know of cases when students who did not speak Russian at all were certified in Fundamentals of Russian Statehood.
About the start of the war
In the first days, weeks and maybe even months, there were no directives from the leadership on how to tell students about the war, what to say or how to interpret what was happening.
Rather there was a general recommendation: continue the educational process as usual and encourage students to find strength in their everyday activities, in their studies. Overall, this was a good recommendation for the first days. With one caveat: the leadership likely hoped that talk of the war would simply go away and students would pretend that nothing had happened. But this, of course, was impossible.
At that time, I was teaching senior humanities students. They asked a lot of questions. When they asked me directly whether I was for or against it, I honestly answered that I was against it. But I could not answer deeper questions at that time. I felt dazed, confused and had not sorted many things out for myself. Yet I did not try to end the conversation as quickly as possible. On the contrary, I gave the students the space, the opportunity to talk and share their thoughts and feelings. It was clear they needed this.
I could not pretend that nothing was happening and just go back to my lesson plans.
There were anti- and prowar students. They tried to argue their point of view. But soon these discussions began to fade away. It became clear what was expected by the university in general and by the department in particular.
Both teachers and students began increasingly to encounter unpleasant and sometimes absurd orders from the leadership. I remember how I once came to the department and saw on the table an already completed “voluntary” request to withhold part of my salary in support of special operation soldiers. All I had to do was sign it. There was a whole stack of such requests, filled out “for” everyone in the department. I was amazed by the speed with which the staff signed, as well as their willingness to follow such instructions without the slightest hesitation.
I remember how curators of student groups were required to take them to various events dedicated to the special operation. For example, to an exhibition in honor of “heroes.” I was also a curator, but my students did not go anywhere.
About the start of the war
In the first days, weeks and maybe even months, there were no directives from the leadership on how to tell students about the war, what to say or how to interpret what was happening.
Rather there was a general recommendation: continue the educational process as usual and encourage students to find strength in their everyday activities, in their studies. Overall, this was a good recommendation for the first days. With one caveat: the leadership likely hoped that talk of the war would simply go away and students would pretend that nothing had happened. But this, of course, was impossible.
At that time, I was teaching senior humanities students. They asked a lot of questions. When they asked me directly whether I was for or against it, I honestly answered that I was against it. But I could not answer deeper questions at that time. I felt dazed, confused and had not sorted many things out for myself. Yet I did not try to end the conversation as quickly as possible. On the contrary, I gave the students the space, the opportunity to talk and share their thoughts and feelings. It was clear they needed this.
I could not pretend that nothing was happening and just go back to my lesson plans.
There were anti- and prowar students. They tried to argue their point of view. But soon these discussions began to fade away. It became clear what was expected by the university in general and by the department in particular.
Both teachers and students began increasingly to encounter unpleasant and sometimes absurd orders from the leadership. I remember how I once came to the department and saw on the table an already completed “voluntary” request to withhold part of my salary in support of special operation soldiers. All I had to do was sign it. There was a whole stack of such requests, filled out “for” everyone in the department. I was amazed by the speed with which the staff signed, as well as their willingness to follow such instructions without the slightest hesitation.
I remember how curators of student groups were required to take them to various events dedicated to the special operation. For example, to an exhibition in honor of “heroes.” I was also a curator, but my students did not go anywhere.
“Control was gradually ratcheted up. Curators were required to monitor what students posted on social media and in student chats.”
I remember one instructor complained that students were giving themselves strange nicknames and avatars on Telegram that supposedly discredited the army or violated “traditional values.”
It was not long before children of special operation soldiers began to get special treatment. An unspoken rule emerged: these students could not be expelled. Over time, students realized they could take advantage of this. Some would mention that they supposedly had uncles or cousins serving in Ukraine, and that was enough. Everything reached the point of absurdity. But no one was expelled.
It was not long before children of special operation soldiers began to get special treatment. An unspoken rule emerged: these students could not be expelled. Over time, students realized they could take advantage of this. Some would mention that they supposedly had uncles or cousins serving in Ukraine, and that was enough. Everything reached the point of absurdity. But no one was expelled.
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