Five Discourses Around The War: A new map of the Russian public sphere

After February 2022, a stable notion emerged in public communication regarding two types of discourse surrounding the 'special military operation' / 'war'. In fact, the very naming of this event became one of the most important markers that divided participants in public communication into two groups, structured by the classic binary opposition of 'us versus them'. In political semiotics, such a marker is called a sign of orientation within discursive space.

However, over time, these orientation markers stopped functioning. The Russian discursive space underwent a significant reformatting. In this article, we propose a more up-to-date model that reflects the situation two and a half years after February 2022.

It is necessary to preface that the author of this article is a proponent of one of these discourses. However, the engagement of a political linguist aligns with the tradition of critical discourse studies (a scholarly field better known as critical discourse analysis), which focuses on the mechanisms of discursive power – namely, techniques for suppressing opponents and subjugating supporters. It is also important to note that the author is based in Russia and is subject to certain censorship restrictions.

Two basic discourses and their dynamics 

Returning to February 2022, we find two basic political discourses defined by their stance on the events that began at that time. The first is centred around approval of the deployment of Russian troops into Ukrainian territory. The second is based on the rejection of this action. As previously noted, the differentiation was also marked by the naming of the events as either a ‘special military operation’ or a ‘war’.

Both discourse participants and their opponents perceived these two discourses as dividing society into two unequal, but fairly large, social groups, thus polarising society. Each discourse used self-identifications and labels for opponents, which acted as markers and contributed to the formation of stable perceptions of these two groups in society (as a result, these labels continue to be used even now, although the notion of 'two discourses' has long ceased to reflect reality).

The first discourse identified its proponents as 'patriots', while opponents were labelled with a range of invective terms, such as 'foreign agents', 'enemy agents', 'enemies of Russia', 'friends of Ukronazis', 'liberasts', and so on. The second discourse defined itself as 'anti-war', with its proponents being called 'anti-war activists', while opponents were labelled, also using invective language, as 'Z-patriots', or simply 'Z-supporters', 'vatniks', and similar terms.

Many of these self-identifications and labels are inherited from previous eras, but the component associated with the symbolism of the ‘special military operation’ (from the symbols invented by Kremlin PR specialists – Z and V, only the former gained traction) adds greater specificity to the labelling. It helps to delineate the group that supports ideas of 'military' patriotism. This, in turn, allows the anti-war group to oppose this with 'anti-military' patriotism, stripping the pro-war group of a monopoly on patriotic rhetoric.

In both discourses, ‘talking heads’ emerged, meaning the most prominent public representatives. According to research from the early months of the war, these discourses were generally embraced by broader social groups (→ Russian Field: Portraits of Supporters and Opponents of the Military Operation), although even then, sociological data cast doubt on the idea of a sharply polarised society.

Shortly after the start of the ‘special military operation’, two main groups representing the pro-war discourse appeared. The first is official propaganda, whose most well-known representatives include Dmitry Kiselyov, Vladimir Solovyov, Maria Zakharova, and the new 'star' – former president Dmitry Medvedev. Joining this 'star lineup' are various deputies, governors, lower-tier television hosts, and others. In other words, we are combining media propagandists and more or less public officials here.

The second group representing the pro-war discourse is the so-called war correspondents. These are primarily bloggers who are relatively independent and are stylistically, and often factually, connected with the Russian military – direct participants in the ‘special military operation’. The rise in status of this group was nevertheless facilitated by the authorities: during the first year of the war, Vladimir Putin repeatedly met with them in deliberately informal settings, adding a bit of frontline grit and ruggedness to his image.

As for the anti-war discourse, it is represented by opposition politicians, intellectuals, journalists, artists, and a number of collective statements from professional communities. Additionally, for a brief period, the anti-war activists who took to the streets also became its voice.

At the same time, unlike them, ordinary citizens who support the pro-war discourse did not become independent discursive actors. The appearance of pro-war discourse in public urban spaces, even at the beginning of the ‘special military operation’ and even more so later, was linked to the organisational efforts of the authorities. The personalisation of official narratives was somewhat present in the early stages, but according to respondents, it was later curtailed (an example from the ethnographic report by the Laboratory of Public Sociology: ‘According to Tonya, a local businesswoman well-acquainted with the urban context, visible signs of the war had almost completely disappeared in Cheremushkin over the past [2023] year: people removed stickers from their cars…’).

However, the practice of public anti-war activism in urban spaces and on social networks, which followed the initial protests, was quickly suppressed by repressive measures. These, in turn, created yet another group within the anti-war public sphere – political prisoners. These individuals not only use the courtroom as a public platform but also, by their very existence and presence in the current information landscape, keep the anti-war discourse alive, becoming its symbols.

In the struggle between the two discourses, the authorities tried to employ a 'Chinese checkmate' – overturning the board by using repressive laws to limit not only anti-war protests but also the very use of the word 'war', thus restricting the possibilities of anti-war rhetoric itself. An example of the dynamic between these two discourses at this stage is an ethnographic account from the life of a small provincial town, documented by sociologists from the Laboratory of Public Sociology. It captures not only the restriction of one side's statements but also the subsequent shutdown of public discussion altogether: 'Alevtina Nikiforovna, a pensioner who works as a cleaner and housekeeper, explained that comments criticising the war were quickly attacked, and their authors were subjected to typical insults ('Ukrop'). Additionally, one resident of Cheremushkin was fined a significant amount by local standards for reposting an anti-war video. This news spread by word of mouth (the researcher heard it from several people), after which townspeople stopped leaving comments and even reactions to news on social media’.

Repressive restrictions also created significant pressure on those who used anti-war discourse, prompting a large number of the public anti-war speakers to emigrate.

Thus, the Kremlin's current PR needs and its repressive policies gave rise to new types of public speakers: war correspondents, political prisoners, and political emigrants. This ultimately led to a separation of the two basic discourses and the formation of a new configuration of public space in the ‘special military operation era’.

The current matrix of the public sphere

However, it’s not just about the emergence of new public discursive actors. The new configuration reflected the rise of new questions, to which corresponding modifications in the discourses became the response. Earlier, we outlined two basic versions of the discourse based on a single parameter – whether one’s assessment of the armed conflict between Russia and Ukraine was positive or negative. But as events unfolded, a number of other questions arose that gradually led to the splitting of the basic discourses.

In analysing the differences between the discourses, we identified four key demarcating questions, each of which implies a binary choice:

1. Attitude toward Vladimir Putin and the country’s leadership: positive (+) or negative (–).

2. Attitude toward the continuation of military actions: for continuation (+) or for stopping and initiating peace talks (–).

3. Focus on the interests of one side in the conflict: Russian (+) or Ukrainian (–).

4. Focus on the interests of different actors: people (+) or the state (–).

Various combinations of answers to these questions create a kind of matrix of the Russian discursive (public) space.

In our analysis, we focus on explicitly stated positions. It is clear that proponents of other discourses may evaluate differently, for example, how much Vladimir Putin’s actions align with the interests of the Russian state. However, pro-Putin propaganda insists that Putin is protecting those interests. Similar ambiguity exists in the question of prioritising the interests of people versus the state. Here, we have guided ourselves by the focus of the respective narratives – whether they emphasise the value of human life or the importance of state territorial interests.

The various combinations of answers to these questions result in 16 possible variations, but in reality, four main discourses, clearly represented in the public space, correspond to four distinct combinations of answers.

(It should be noted that this text focuses exclusively on the Russian public sphere – Ukrainian or European discourses are not analysed – and that the author of the article aligns their own narratives with the fourth, ‘pro-Russian’ opposition discourse.)

As is often the case when describing social phenomena, this typology does not imply that all Z-bloggers are opponents of Putin or that all opposition figures who left Russia are uninterested in the fate of their compatriots who remain. Rather, it indicates the 'ideal' positions that define the distinctive (constitutive) features of each discourse. For example, the distinctive feature of the Z-bloggers' discourse is that they do not identify with the current authorities and maintain a critical and distanced stance toward them. Similarly, the pro-Ukrainian opposition discourse is focused on the issue of a just resolution of the conflict, meaning the return of Ukraine's lost territories. In reality, we often encounter more nuanced positions and statements, but in this case, we are interested in the archetypal frameworks of each discourse.

All four discourses are widely represented in the media space, each with its own media representatives, but mostly on different platforms: official propaganda is primarily on television, Z-bloggers are the heirs of Prigozhin's Telegram empire, with some presence on YouTube, and the pro-Ukrainian discourse is mainly represented on YouTube, with Telegram as a secondary platform.

Pro-Russian opposition pacifism has significantly fewer media platforms compared to the other three groups. Its representatives within Russia are in the most vulnerable position, as they cannot afford to have a loud voice, both in terms of resources and safety. As a result, their message must reach the Russian audience not through the quantity of communication but through its quality.

The fractures within the two ‘main’ discourses emerged from different issues, which expanded and then divided the initial positions. The originally unified pro-war discourse remained in official propaganda, but a separate Z-blogger discourse split off, differing from the official line on the issue of supporting the actions of the Russian authorities and, in its more consistent form, on the issue of supporting Putin. This discourse supports the war against Ukraine but criticises how the authorities are conducting it. The formation of the distinct Z-blogger discourse can be linked to figures like Yevgeny Prigozhin and Igor Strelkov (Girkin); it was then adopted by many bloggers (Kirill Kachur, Ivan Otrakovsky, PMC ‘Palladin’, and others). The initial impetus for this new position was the narrative of ‘bad generals’ who fail to provide soldiers with necessary supplies and lack the skills to lead the war. These critiques later extended to most of the country's leadership.

In this perspective, Putin, as a key element of a state apparatus that is ineffective and corrupt, is not entirely a 'patriot' and does not reflect the interests of the Russian state and people. The potential for further radicalisation of the Z-discourse is linked to criticism of almost the entire internal policy and is largely similar to 'anti-Putin' opposition discursive variations. This is evident in a passage from Ivan Otrakovsky's Telegram channel: 'Yes, there are those who say: it's not the time for settling scores, the war is ongoing, we'll deal with it later. When later? They are not fighting; they are negotiating, surrendering territories, first the reclaimed cities of Novorossiya, now directly Russia (within its old borders)—the Kursk region, mass killing soldiers and officers while endangering civilians. How can we win when a group of enemy agents occupies the highest echelons of power? The others in power, who are supposed to be on our side, understand this but remain silent, playing a game of cat-and-mouse. What will this lead to, defeat? My favourite saying: as long as jackals command lions, defeat is inevitable. Do you hear? Inevitable! Therefore, it is necessary to engage in a liberation struggle. And first and foremost on the political field!'

After Prigozhin's rebellion, the Kremlin recognised this discursive rift and began, on the one hand, to repress and label the most prominent representatives of the anti-Putin pro-war discourse as 'foreign agents', while on the other hand, it attempted to 'put the toothpaste back in the tube' by bringing war correspondents under its wing, cleansing the ranks of generals and thus seemingly seizing the opposition agenda from the Z-bloggers.

As for the anti-war discourse, its transformation (more complex than in the pro-war discourse) occurred along several lines: both in response to the question of whether to continue military actions and regarding the main focus of interests – Russia or Ukraine.

The initial position of the anti-war discourse asserted that the war with Ukraine contradicted the interests of Russia and its population. However, the public space (especially outside of Russia, in Europe) soon came under strong influence from the Ukrainian anti-Putin discourse, which focused on issues related to restoring internationally recognised borders of Ukraine and the 'collective guilt' of Russia and Russians. This discursive focus naturally had a significant impact on many opposition figures who had left Russia or had long been outside it.

The most consistent representation of this can be seen in the statement from the Council of the Forum of Free Russia regarding events in the Kursk region, which welcomed the actions of the Ukrainian Armed Forces on Russian territory, ‘effectively liberating it from Putinism’, while acknowledging the casualties on the Russian side as unavoidable collateral losses.

Again, it should be noted that being classified within this type of discourse does not mean that its proponents completely disregard the interests of Russians; however, its primary focus is 'justice for Ukraine'. At the same time, it cannot be claimed that 'pro-Russian' opposition pacifists do not empathise with Ukraine and Ukrainians. However, what is pertinent to the constitution of this discourse is sympathy for 'ordinary Russians' and simply Russians, who appear in its narratives more as hostages and victims of authoritarian voluntarism.

The divergence between the two discourses manifests itself in a number of debates unfolding on social media. For example, Lev Shlosberg, who remains in Russia and called for a ceasefire after the Ukrainian Armed Forces entered the Kursk region ('There is no military solution to this growing tragedy. As long as this simple thought does not become widely accepted by society and politicians, the bloodshed will continue and people will die… Politicians may hate each other, but they must talk to each other… Stop. Sit down at the negotiating table'), was accused by exiled Viktor Shenderovich of having a 'Stockholm syndrome'. Galina Yuzefovich (who visits Russia but does not live there permanently), whose performance in Yekaterinburg was cancelled due to her anti-war stance, faced criticism from Dmitry Bykov for even participating in such events in Russia (Bykov himself cannot enter Russia for known reasons).

Evolution of the markers: 'special military operation', 'war', 'full-scale invasion'

A significant transformation has also taken place regarding the use of a crucial discursive marker—the basic designation of events as ‘war’ / ‘special military operation’.

Although in his address to the Federal Assembly in 2023, Vladimir Putin used the word 'war', he provided it with a specific interpretation: according to him, 'the war' is being waged by NATO against Russia, while Russia itself is conducting a 'special military operation' in Ukraine. However, this linguistic exercise has become a thing of the past – military actions in Ukraine are euphemistically referred to as the ‘special military operation’ in the official discourse. This choice indicates that, in the characteristic ideological fluctuations of the Kremlin between totalitarian mobilisation and authoritarian depoliticisation, the authoritarian approach is prevailing at this stage. The goal of official propaganda remains to preserve the 'sofa', apolitical loyalty to Putin and his initiated 'special military operation', which is to be perceived as a matter for the military, minimally affecting society.

This is precisely what the Z-bloggers disagree with; they reproach society for not supporting the military and the war sufficiently (as mentioned above, this discourse is state-centric in origin) and criticise the country's leadership for encouraging this apolitical stance. For this reason, they quickly shift to the originally anti-war marker and refer to the military actions in Ukraine as ‘war’, although in their discourse, this term does not carry the pacifist connotations that anti-war activists intended when they took to the streets with anti-war slogans in February and March 2022. Instead, Z-patriots emphasise a layer of meaning in the word ‘war’ that emphasises the ‘sacred duty to defend the homeland’. In other words, its mobilisational potential.

The distinction in designations is explained by the very proponents of the Z-discourse. Igor Strelkov (Girkin), currently imprisoned in Russia, stated in an interview in September 2024 (essentially borrowing from Putin's rhetoric, which, let us repeat, the official propagandist discourse has not developed): ‘The ‘special military operation’ has long been over. A fierce and merciless war is being waged for the annihilation of our homeland. The question is only whether this conflict will escalate from a regional to a global scale or remain confined to the territory of the former Russian Empire / USSR’.

A parallel transformation is occurring with this key designation amidst the rift in the anti-war discourse. Anti-Putin pacifists, due to censorship restrictions, especially in the early days, had to resort to using the imposed term 'special military operation'; however, this usage never became an established norm for the discourse: the formula was often used in quotes or with the addition of 'so-called'. Yet when it became clear that using the term 'war' did not lead to repression, the 'pro-Russian' opposition reintroduced it into their discourse; sometimes they also use 'special operation' – in quotes – though this has become more of a reference to the official discourse.

On the other hand, exiled opposition figures largely (both more radical and even less radical) gradually replaced the term 'war', which was initially used in a unified anti-war discourse, with the expression 'full-scale invasion' (or 'full-scale war' as a compromise). This shift occurred under the influence of the Ukrainian propagandist discourse, which creates a denser context for discussing the military conflict outside of Russia, using such terminology to refer to a worldview that emphasises the asymmetric and prolonged nature of the conflict. It is interesting how Alexei Obukhov, the editor-in-chief of the publication 'Sota', which uses the word ‘war’, describes this phenomenon critically toward the Russian opposition: ‘…finally a reason to breathe out and become, probably, the first Russian media outlet unashamed to name the source of its funding and not obligated to say 'full-scale invasion' instead of 'war' in exchange for it or to pass over in silence the indecent actions of both the authorities and the opposition’.

It is worth noting that despite the obvious differences, the two anti-Putin discourses that place the responsibility for the war on Putin have not formed stable self-designations or coined labelling terms for other discourses.

Non-public mass discourse and its potential 'allies'

In addition to the four prominently represented discourses discussed above, another discursive variation can be found in the Russian semi-public space – ‘pro-Putin pacifism’, which, according to our proposed typology, has the following parameters.

This pro-Putin pro-Russian pacifism appears to be the most widespread sentiment in Russian society. Sociological data from the Russian Field, 'Chronicles', and the Levada Centre show that the majority of Russians support ending military actions and pursuing peaceful negotiations while not opposing the authorities or Putin. However, this most prevalent discourse is the least represented in the media space and has almost no authoritative speakers. It is more often heard in the everyday conversations of ordinary Russians.

Loyalists criticise the war from general pacifist positions ('War is always bad') and in terms of the costs it imposes on the residents of Russia. However, this criticism does not translate into a political stance – condemning the Russian authorities and Putin for the decision to initiate the 'special military operation'. On the contrary, while criticising the war, proponents of this discourse simultaneously strongly oppose the 'politicisation' of the issue, which would lead them to feel the need to assign blame to one side or the other. Examples of such a dual stance can also be found in ethnographic reports from the Laboratory of Public Sociology: 'In one way or another, the residents of Cheryomushkin express emotions about the war and complain about it. People are upset that young individuals are dying in the war, and they are outraged by the necessity for combat participants to buy their own equipment, weapons, food, and clothing. In general, everyone is willing to agree that war is 'bad' and 'terrifying'; some respondents, in particular, admitted that they cannot understand the meaning of this war. However, such criticism does not lead them to question the necessity and inevitability of the war, nor does it prompt a critical view of the actions of the Russian authorities’.

In this discursive variation, the focus is on the 'interests of ordinary people', which are contrasted with 'the war' but not with the interests of the authorities (the state). At the same time, if their interlocutor reveals the internal contradiction of this position, loyalists begin to adopt arguments from the pro-government militaristic discourse. Ethnographers describe this situation as follows: ‘In response to uncomfortable questions about the 'political' meaning of the war, most respondents rhetorically defend themselves using various clichés provided by propaganda (which, notably, are not used when residents of Cheryomushkin discuss issues that are understandable and relevant to them)’.

As previously mentioned, this discourse of the 'passive majority' is currently almost absent from public view, lacking its own authoritative defenders and speakers in the media space. However, as noted above, the discursive field is quite dynamic, and the discourses themselves are subject to mutations as the situation changes and requires new answers to emerging questions. Therefore, it is worth considering what evolutions it might undergo and who could appropriate the most widespread non-public discourse of ‘popular pacifism’.

Clearly, a public spokesperson for ‘pro-Putin pacifism’ could be Putin himself if he were to propose an initiative aimed at ending the conflict. Sociological surveys clearly indicate that this comfortable turn of events would be supported by the majority of Russians. However, there is potential for other representatives of the Russian elite to also become a pacifist mouthpiece.

Moreover, in addition to the 'popular pacifism' described above, there is undoubtedly another discursive variation present in the Russian non-public space – 'statist pacifism', which views the war, associated with significant costs for the economy and the country's international standing, as an unprofitable and even destructive track for Russia. In our matrix, it appears as follows.

Alternative ‘presidential candidates’ Boris Nadezhdin and Ekaterina Duntsova tried to occupy this niche in part by emphasising their non-rebellious image and positioning themselves (especially Nadezhdin) as a systemic force participating in legitimate procedures. However, it is evident that their primary audience was not the loyal majority but a diverse opposition minority (it was this support from the minority that made them noticeable in the public space). Additionally, their discourse, particularly Duntsova's, was characterised more by humanitarian than state-centric themes, which connected her with the majority while simultaneously highlighting her alienation from the current elite.

As for the elite, ‘statist pacifism’ from certain factions is vividly present in informal conversations but only reaches the public sphere in the form of ambiguous remarks (such as Oleg Deripaska's phrase, ‘If you want to stop the conflict, you first need to cease fire’). At the same time, it holds significant potential.

It is clear that the rising costs and losses associated with the continuation of the 'special military operation' – human, economic, emotional, and others – intensify feelings of fatigue and disappointment. The perception of the scale of these costs serves as a trigger for the further evolution of the discursive field. As long as the costs are perceived as moderate, the status quo can be maintained. Conversely, increasing costs and frustrations could lead to either the radicalisation of 'popular pacifism', which would become more critical of the authorities and align more closely with the 'pro-Russian pacifism' of the internal opposition, or the crystallisation of 'statist pacifism' characteristic of elite groups.

In this case, much will depend on whether Putin himself can seize the moment as public sentiment potentially shifts. If he fails to do so and does not promptly halt the ‘special military operation’, alternative authorities from the current elite could capture the sympathies of the silent majority by responding to its ‘loyalist’ call for an end to the war.

However, for our analysis, it is important to emphasise that the potential for a possible anti-war coalition is linked to the convergence of three discursive variations: 'popular pacifism', 'anti-war statism', and pro-Russian pacifism from the internal (or 'moderate') opposition. The first two are united by a strong focus on the interests of Russia, while the first and third underscore the interests of 'ordinary citizens'. All three groups tend to distance themselves from both Putin's militarism and the idea of 'collective responsibility' for Russia: regardless of whether this idea is justified, it creates an insurmountable barrier between moderate pacifism (both 'popular' and elite) and radical pro-Ukrainian anti-Putinism from the 'external' opposition.

As for the discourse of Z-bloggers, it has already begun to shift focus from state interests to ‘the interests of the people’, proposing tasks for a radical reformatting of Russian statehood and the political regime.

As an example, we can cite a quote from a blogger close to the circle of Strelkov-Girkin, the author of the Telegram channel ‘Odesa Catacombs’: ‘We are in a routine war between the old system of state power and public morality and the new model of Russia’s survival. Of course, the old system is resisting with all its might, trying to hold onto the territory it reclaimed 31 years ago. The new, anti-corruption, anti-thief Russia – Russia of innovation, a society of modest and reasonable consumption – is not yet a system; we are represented as fragmented small forces and even just individual personalities, so we won’t be able to 'take the Winter Palace' outright. We will still incur losses; the old RF-mafia will still triumph... But! The old system is doomed'.

Today, the Z-discourse repels loyalists not only due to its militaristic stance, which implies increasing costs of war, but also because of its brutal revolutionary nature (the majority did not support Prigozhin's rebellion). Therefore, even if there is a drift away from habitual loyalty, the depoliticised majority may find the Z-discourse too aggressive and dangerous. However, under certain circumstances, when and if the silent majority starts to pay attention to opposition narratives, the Z-discourse could become appealing to a specific segment of that majority. The Kremlin watches with the greatest concern the radicalisation of the pro-war Z-discourse because it is popular not among exiled 'foreign agents' or 'pacifist intelligentsia’, and not even among the silent majority, but among armed individuals.

In any case, the existing gap between the official pro-war discourse and the loyalist-pacifist discourse of the ‘silent majority’, which currently lacks public representatives, creates a central intrigue regarding potential future transformations of the discursive field. As we have shown, this field is by no means static and is certainly not under complete control of the authorities; in the event of rising war costs, it may transform towards various and even paradoxical situational coalitions and intersections, not only among 'pacifist' discourses but also between them and the opposition Z-patriotic discourse.