Society
‘You Give Us Support and We Will Not Call You Up to Fight’
September 9, 2024
Andrei Kolesnikov
Scientific Advisory Council of the Finnish Institute of International Affairs
Political analyst Andrei Kolesnikov looks at public sentiment in Russia two and a half years since the start of the Russia-Ukraine conflict and why attitudes toward the government remain unchanged despite the Ukrainian penetration into Kursk Region or the threat of drones attacking Russian cities.
The original text in Russian was published in Novaya Gazeta. A slightly amended version is being published here with the author’s permission.
The past two and a half years have reaffirmed the amazing ability of the Russian people to adapt to given circumstances. That adaptability stems from their reconciliation with the new reality in the country following the failure of the “Bolotnaya” protests of 2011-12, Putin’s return to the Kremlin and especially after the incorporation of Crimea into Russia – many Russian liberals, having grown fatigued, used the historic event as an excuse to stop resisting.
The mechanism of defensive aggression
The highest levels of adaptation in the era of late Putinism were seen right after February 2022, when, realizing that their previous life had been destroyed just like that, Russians flooded shopping malls. This time, however, they were not buying salt, matches and sugar, but Western consumer goods, from lace panties to alpine skis. After all, they had felt themselves part of Western civilization in the previous Putin years. Yet this did not stop them from widely supporting the Kremlin’s decision.
When it had become clear that the shock was here to stay, indicators of adaptation – like politicians’ ratings – stabilized, and a new life began with the usual hope for the best, (self-)justification of events and support for slogans such as “we are resisting Western aggression” and “it’s about time we produce things ourselves,” etc.
The mechanism that Erich Fromm called “defensive aggression” was also at work, spurred on, among other things, by partial mobilization in autumn 2022.
The past two and a half years have reaffirmed the amazing ability of the Russian people to adapt to given circumstances. That adaptability stems from their reconciliation with the new reality in the country following the failure of the “Bolotnaya” protests of 2011-12, Putin’s return to the Kremlin and especially after the incorporation of Crimea into Russia – many Russian liberals, having grown fatigued, used the historic event as an excuse to stop resisting.
The mechanism of defensive aggression
The highest levels of adaptation in the era of late Putinism were seen right after February 2022, when, realizing that their previous life had been destroyed just like that, Russians flooded shopping malls. This time, however, they were not buying salt, matches and sugar, but Western consumer goods, from lace panties to alpine skis. After all, they had felt themselves part of Western civilization in the previous Putin years. Yet this did not stop them from widely supporting the Kremlin’s decision.
When it had become clear that the shock was here to stay, indicators of adaptation – like politicians’ ratings – stabilized, and a new life began with the usual hope for the best, (self-)justification of events and support for slogans such as “we are resisting Western aggression” and “it’s about time we produce things ourselves,” etc.
The mechanism that Erich Fromm called “defensive aggression” was also at work, spurred on, among other things, by partial mobilization in autumn 2022.
“‘If we got involved, we might as well see it through to a victorious end’ is consistently the main motivation expressed by supporters of continuing the Russia-Ukraine conflict, according to the Levada Center.”
A house damaged during the Ukrainian raid into Kursk Region. Published by Kursk Acting Governor Alexei Smirnov on Telegram. August 2024. Source: Wiki Commons
Twenty-first-century, modernized Russia – which until the very beginning of what the Russian government calls a “special military operation” in Ukraine had no intention to fight and hate the whole world (as polls showed as late as the second half of 2021) – was no different in its reaction to the start of the conflict than at the beginning of World War I, when the Russian people experienced a surge in patriotism (as did other peoples across Europe). The struggle, in 1914 as in 2022, acquired the status of a civilizational war with the West.
The shallowly buried “Russian idea,” with all its archaic attributes – the messianic role of the Russian people, imperial phantom pains, resentment and a defensive consciousness – was dug up and set down in official documents, like presidential decrees on “traditional values” and teaching history.
Notwithstanding the claims by columnists that “sociological research in an authoritarian state is impossible” and “people actually think differently,” a large majority turned out ready to renounce individual responsibility and independent thinking and dismissed any doubts about whether what was happening was right or not.
Learned indifference became a psychological defense. The conviction that no one can change anything in the country was driven in part by the adaptation mechanism of “preexisting” obedience: life must go on – we have nothing to do with it; we are for peace, but the fatherland is in danger, and we must stand united with the government; and best to keep a low profile so as not to aggravate the authorities. People also believe that occasionally they should help the authorities through performative obedience and silence (passive conformism) and denunciations of opponents of the special military operation and Putin (aggressive conformism).
By 2024, people had realized that living in an Orwellian dystopia was possible. Moreover, a feeling had emerged that things could not be bad for long, that things should soon get better – hence the paradoxical widespread optimism about the future, including consumer optimism, to a certain extent fueled by the mass use of antidepressants and contraceptives (in an uncertain environment, many postpone having children).
This has to do with the phenomenon that Levada Center head Denis Volkov calls “long adaptation” (see the translated article in Russia.Post) – for decades, people have been learning how to adapt to all types of crises. The pre-conflict bourgeois prosperity, coupled with complacent indifference to everything, did not make Russians forget how to quickly mobilize.
The pandemic had served as something of a fire drill for the country. The reaction to the start of the conflict was the same as previous crises, when, for example, people ran to the bank to exchange money or withdraw their savings. This time, they rushed not only to banks but also to shopping malls, while considering leaving the country and sending away boys of draft age.
The crisis within the crisis was partial mobilization, which turned out to be an even bigger shock than the launch of a special military operation against Russia’s neighbor in February 2022.
The shallowly buried “Russian idea,” with all its archaic attributes – the messianic role of the Russian people, imperial phantom pains, resentment and a defensive consciousness – was dug up and set down in official documents, like presidential decrees on “traditional values” and teaching history.
Notwithstanding the claims by columnists that “sociological research in an authoritarian state is impossible” and “people actually think differently,” a large majority turned out ready to renounce individual responsibility and independent thinking and dismissed any doubts about whether what was happening was right or not.
Learned indifference became a psychological defense. The conviction that no one can change anything in the country was driven in part by the adaptation mechanism of “preexisting” obedience: life must go on – we have nothing to do with it; we are for peace, but the fatherland is in danger, and we must stand united with the government; and best to keep a low profile so as not to aggravate the authorities. People also believe that occasionally they should help the authorities through performative obedience and silence (passive conformism) and denunciations of opponents of the special military operation and Putin (aggressive conformism).
By 2024, people had realized that living in an Orwellian dystopia was possible. Moreover, a feeling had emerged that things could not be bad for long, that things should soon get better – hence the paradoxical widespread optimism about the future, including consumer optimism, to a certain extent fueled by the mass use of antidepressants and contraceptives (in an uncertain environment, many postpone having children).
This has to do with the phenomenon that Levada Center head Denis Volkov calls “long adaptation” (see the translated article in Russia.Post) – for decades, people have been learning how to adapt to all types of crises. The pre-conflict bourgeois prosperity, coupled with complacent indifference to everything, did not make Russians forget how to quickly mobilize.
The pandemic had served as something of a fire drill for the country. The reaction to the start of the conflict was the same as previous crises, when, for example, people ran to the bank to exchange money or withdraw their savings. This time, they rushed not only to banks but also to shopping malls, while considering leaving the country and sending away boys of draft age.
The crisis within the crisis was partial mobilization, which turned out to be an even bigger shock than the launch of a special military operation against Russia’s neighbor in February 2022.
“This is why, today, even though the authorities have set up the entire infrastructure needed for further mobilization, no green light has been given.”
Long adaptation entails latent but always ready “pre-adaptation“ (a term proposed by psychologist Alexander Asmolov) – you are able to relax, but at least one part of your brain must always be on guard, lest “some shit” happen.
Sociologist Lev Gudkov, also of the Levada Center, says that most people choose the “fetal position” in difficult situations, the logic being: if I get beaten (in the broad sense of the word), that position will protect me from the hardest blows, while I also act like I am invisible, innocent; I neither see nor hear anything; I accept the world as it is – even if it is terrible. And most importantly, I: one, do not intend to think for myself; and two, take no personal responsibility for what goes on around me.
Peddling threats
Such mechanisms of mass behavior in authoritarian and totalitarian regimes are nothing new and not unique to Russia or ethnic Russians. They reflect human nature, a fact that has been well described and confirmed through experiments, and not only in laboratories and focus groups.
After World War II, as Hannah Arendt noted, it was not the guilt or failure of the German that mattered, but the guilt or failure of man as such. Essentially, the same could be said about any other armed conflict, not necessarily global.
A man who prefers to avoid responsibility for something that does not seem to directly concern him will run from freedom. A man who is packed into a crowd of his compatriots will behave as the crowd, following a leader, does, even if that means marching toward the abyss.
A man in a besieged fortress will not only obey the orders of the commandant but also worship him. Stockholm syndrome kicks in, with the hostage accepting the logic of his tormentors or the lack thereof.
Therefore, the hope that the appearance of Ukrainian troops in Kursk Region or fighting around the Russia-Ukraine border will change Russians’ attitude toward the conflict and Putin is as naive as the assumption that a worsening economy will prompt Russians to protest against the current government.
Silent discontent is possible, and it makes sense to closely monitor its dynamics. Pent-up protest is also possible, but not now, not amid a military-police regime and brutal administrative and criminal repression, not when people risk losing their job and social status.
Sociologist Lev Gudkov, also of the Levada Center, says that most people choose the “fetal position” in difficult situations, the logic being: if I get beaten (in the broad sense of the word), that position will protect me from the hardest blows, while I also act like I am invisible, innocent; I neither see nor hear anything; I accept the world as it is – even if it is terrible. And most importantly, I: one, do not intend to think for myself; and two, take no personal responsibility for what goes on around me.
Peddling threats
Such mechanisms of mass behavior in authoritarian and totalitarian regimes are nothing new and not unique to Russia or ethnic Russians. They reflect human nature, a fact that has been well described and confirmed through experiments, and not only in laboratories and focus groups.
After World War II, as Hannah Arendt noted, it was not the guilt or failure of the German that mattered, but the guilt or failure of man as such. Essentially, the same could be said about any other armed conflict, not necessarily global.
A man who prefers to avoid responsibility for something that does not seem to directly concern him will run from freedom. A man who is packed into a crowd of his compatriots will behave as the crowd, following a leader, does, even if that means marching toward the abyss.
A man in a besieged fortress will not only obey the orders of the commandant but also worship him. Stockholm syndrome kicks in, with the hostage accepting the logic of his tormentors or the lack thereof.
Therefore, the hope that the appearance of Ukrainian troops in Kursk Region or fighting around the Russia-Ukraine border will change Russians’ attitude toward the conflict and Putin is as naive as the assumption that a worsening economy will prompt Russians to protest against the current government.
Silent discontent is possible, and it makes sense to closely monitor its dynamics. Pent-up protest is also possible, but not now, not amid a military-police regime and brutal administrative and criminal repression, not when people risk losing their job and social status.
“Since 2014, Russians have viewed Western sanctions as a policy aimed against Russia and Russians.”
What is the mood prevailing among people around you - calm (green) or anxious (red)? Public Opinion Foundation (FOM), September 2023 to September 2024. Source: FOM
The general attitude toward sanctions – we should never give in, we should not focus on them, we will survive and they are actually good for us – is one of the most stable positions recorded by pollsters over the last decade.
The same is true of the “Kursk effect”: the slip in Putin’s ratings (and alongside his, as is usually the case, those of all institutions and figures in power) is minimal. Just 11% of Russians who told the Levada Center that they were worried about the Ukrainian attack on Kursk Region express dissatisfaction with the government (including the “weakness and unpreparedness of the authorities”). And even then, this dissatisfaction is more likely not with Putin but with those who allowed this “situation” to arise. Anxiety, as measured by the Public Opinion Foundation (FOM), is now rising, albeit not to alarming levels: 70% reported anxiety during partial mobilization, whereas currently the figure, having climbed throughout August, is 49%.
The informal contract between the Kremlin and Russians
It cannot be denied that Putin’s “power vertical” is facing serious problems, which may turn out to be time bombs. Yet the desire of the overwhelming majority of the country to get on with their lives and distance themselves from current events is so strong that the informal social contract in 2023-24 of “you give us support and we will not call you up to fight” has proven unshakeable so far.
A sharp deterioration in the economy or a careless move by the Kremlin could undermine this contract. But for now, as we see, most Russians are afraid of upsetting the fragile balance in their lives, while the government fears a rise in discontent. Thus, the handling of the “situation” (what Putin and Russian officialdom, echoing him, call the Ukrainian army’s penetration into Kursk Region) suits both sides of the informal contract.
Two and a half years ago, when Russian troops went into Ukraine, Russians agreed with the line that “we were attacked” and now is not the time to be critical of the government, and now the “Kursk anomaly” is perceived as something like floods in the spring or burst pipes in the winter – best to support the leader and his policies and wait for the conflict to end (in polls, Russians say they want peace, but peace means “victory,” or “victory” means peace).
It is in the interests of the regime to prolong in one way or another the confrontation with external threats (the US, NATO, the “collective West”) and internal threats (the fifth column, “national traitors,” foreign agents, extremists). If there are threats, it means that justifications can be found for war, increased repression within the country and more spending on “defense and security.” The Kursk “situation,” in this context, is just another, new threat.
The experience of recent years has shown that by skillfully manipulating the mass consciousness and using the habitual obedience of citizens and learned indifference, the Kremlin not only successfully suppresses discontent but also effects greater and greater consolidation.
The same is true of the “Kursk effect”: the slip in Putin’s ratings (and alongside his, as is usually the case, those of all institutions and figures in power) is minimal. Just 11% of Russians who told the Levada Center that they were worried about the Ukrainian attack on Kursk Region express dissatisfaction with the government (including the “weakness and unpreparedness of the authorities”). And even then, this dissatisfaction is more likely not with Putin but with those who allowed this “situation” to arise. Anxiety, as measured by the Public Opinion Foundation (FOM), is now rising, albeit not to alarming levels: 70% reported anxiety during partial mobilization, whereas currently the figure, having climbed throughout August, is 49%.
The informal contract between the Kremlin and Russians
It cannot be denied that Putin’s “power vertical” is facing serious problems, which may turn out to be time bombs. Yet the desire of the overwhelming majority of the country to get on with their lives and distance themselves from current events is so strong that the informal social contract in 2023-24 of “you give us support and we will not call you up to fight” has proven unshakeable so far.
A sharp deterioration in the economy or a careless move by the Kremlin could undermine this contract. But for now, as we see, most Russians are afraid of upsetting the fragile balance in their lives, while the government fears a rise in discontent. Thus, the handling of the “situation” (what Putin and Russian officialdom, echoing him, call the Ukrainian army’s penetration into Kursk Region) suits both sides of the informal contract.
Two and a half years ago, when Russian troops went into Ukraine, Russians agreed with the line that “we were attacked” and now is not the time to be critical of the government, and now the “Kursk anomaly” is perceived as something like floods in the spring or burst pipes in the winter – best to support the leader and his policies and wait for the conflict to end (in polls, Russians say they want peace, but peace means “victory,” or “victory” means peace).
It is in the interests of the regime to prolong in one way or another the confrontation with external threats (the US, NATO, the “collective West”) and internal threats (the fifth column, “national traitors,” foreign agents, extremists). If there are threats, it means that justifications can be found for war, increased repression within the country and more spending on “defense and security.” The Kursk “situation,” in this context, is just another, new threat.
The experience of recent years has shown that by skillfully manipulating the mass consciousness and using the habitual obedience of citizens and learned indifference, the Kremlin not only successfully suppresses discontent but also effects greater and greater consolidation.
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