Stabroek News

Preparing Russia for Permanent War

- By Nina L. Khrushchev­a Nina L. Khrushchev­a, Professor of Internatio­nal Affairs at The New School, is the co-author (with Jeffrey Tayler) of In Putin’s Footsteps: Searching for the Soul of an Empire Across Russia’s Eleven Time Zones (St. Martin’s Press, 20

MOSCOW – In the late eighteenth century, Catherine the Great planned a tour of Crimea, which her court favorite, Count Grigory Potemkin, had conquered a few years earlier. But while Potemkin had managed to seize the agricultur­ally rich peninsula from the Ottoman Empire, he had failed to achieve the promised colonizati­on.

To save face, Potemkin ordered the constructi­on of a row of painted pasteboard façades beside the river along which the empress would travel, and brought in cheerful villagers and herds of healthy livestock to complete the illusion. There was no prosperity, but it sure looked like there was.

Versions of “Potemkin villages” have been a staple of Russian history ever since. During Soviet times, the image that communism improved life for all obscured systemic violence and repression. And today, the Kremlin works tirelessly to create the impression that Russia is a beacon of stability and strength, and that a grateful people is fervently devoted to their leader, Vladimir Putin; but behind the façade, one finds disillusio­n, despair, fear, and rage.

You see this truth in contempora­ry Russian films and television, because popular culture finds it hard to lie completely about the state of politics. In the Russian crime drama The Boy’s World: Blood on the Asphalt, violent and chaotic politics translate into violent and chaotic streets. When leaders insist that enemies lurk everywhere and that the best defense is to strike first, paranoia, intoleranc­e, and aggression grow.

It should be no surprise, then, that as Putin wages war on Ukraine, Russian children bully their classmates; teenagers film themselves attacking local residents; and adults get into public brawls.

Today’s Russia is nothing like the citadel of stability and satisfacti­on nor the bastion of prosperity that the Kremlin claims it to be. Though Russian GDP grew by more than 3% in 2023, despite Western sanctions, this hardly reflects genuine, let alone sustainabl­e, economic dynamism.

Instead, it reflects the fact that the state has poured massive resources into the military-industrial complex. But those resources had to be reallocate­d from somewhere, and a series of catastroph­es – including infrastruc­ture disasters, energy-supply breakdowns, and fires at factories and warehouses – offer clues about where.

Moreover, the Ukraine war triggered a mass exodus of Russians, including many with valuable skills, such that 85% of businesses are now reporting a shortage of qualified manpower. Some estimate that, by 2030, Russia will be short up to four million capable workers, which would shave about two percentage points from GDP growth.

As in any dictatorsh­ip, the more problems Putin’s regime has, the louder the propaganda. This explains why last November – on National Unity Day – a massive “forum and exhibition” simply called “Russia” opened in Moscow. The six-month event, timed to end after the presidenti­al election in March, is intended to be a “largescale projection of the country,” with 131 exposition­s showcasing Russia’s “main achievemen­ts,” from “breakthrou­gh discoverie­s” to Russian “victories” in “industry, culture, and sports.”

The Russia that the exhibition presents might be as glorious as Putin claims, but like Potemkin’s villages, it is a blatant attempt to obscure a dark truth with appealing lies. Moreover, it is being used to bolster Putin’s cult of personalit­y. In this sense, the choice of venue for the event could not be more appropriat­e: the Exhibition of Achievemen­ts of the National Economy (VDNKh) was built at the height of Stalin’s purges.

Putin’s image and avatar preside over the proceeding­s, talking to workers, meeting with doctors, and praying with clergy on giant screens positioned in the venue’s pavilions. Meanwhile, the exhibition’s gift shop sells merchandis­e plastered with quotes from the president. “The Russian flag can’t bother anyone,” declares a t-shirt. “It’s equally honorable to be our friends and our enemies,” adds a sweatshirt.

For Russians who can’t make it to the VDNKh gift shop, similar quotes were featured on giant outdoor screens across the country during the first two weeks of this year. “The golden reserve of the nation is its people,” Russians were reminded as they walked down the street. “We can do anything when our road is lit with love for the fatherland.”

This is the language learned in Soviet Dictator 101. No one can forget the posters of Stalin in a cream-colored military-style jacket handing out ice cream to happy children, looming over tilled fields and crowds of peasants, or simply looking proudly into the distance. Images of him were ubiquitous during his rule, plastered onto the sides of buildings, carried as banners in parades, even woven into carpets. Others, from Lenin to Brezhnev, also produced posters touting their simultaneo­usly grand and bland pronouncem­ents.

The goal of current Kremlin propaganda is not to convince people that life in Russia is safe and prosperous. It might have started out that way, but as the Ukraine war drags on, Putin has had to adapt. Now, echoing Stalin’s narrative that progress toward socialism brings more challenges, requiring intensific­ation of the class struggle, Putin is using propaganda to prepare Russians for more war.

The effort is hardly covert. On January 14, a Ministry of Defense pavilion titled “Army for children. City of profession­s. Future of the country” was opened at the VDNKh exhibition. On the same day, another Moscow exhibition – “The Trial. Franz Kafka and 20th-Century Art,” held at the Jewish Museum (also known as the Tolerance Center) – was closed.

What Russia needs today are precisely the messages the Kafka exhibition delivered: the Soviet system was absurd, but capable of ruthless efficiency in crushing innocent individual­s. Instead, the messages Russians are now receiving are becoming more militarize­d and less tolerant by the day – a façade behind which lie sham elections, a weakening economy, and proliferat­ing violence. Potemkin would be proud.

This article was received from Project Syndicate, an internatio­nal not-for-profit associatio­n of newspapers dedicated to hosting a global debate on the key issues shaping our world.

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