Introduction
Each new circle of confrontation with Russia causes surprise and disarray in the West, but this is usually not the result of any change of policy in Moscow. Consistent Russian state behaviours and demands can be traced not just to Soviet times but back to czarist foreign and domestic policy, and further to the structure and rules of Russian society. In this respect, what surprises some Western observers so much about Moscow’s current behaviour is simply Russia reverting to type.” – Keir Giles 1
The overarching objective of these collected articles is to offer a comprehensive insight into Russia. They seek to give insight not only into contemporary Russia, but also the historical trajectory of both the nation and its diplomatic and strategic interactions with the West. In addition, the collection aims to illuminate the country’s policy decisions, propaganda mechanisms and current economic circumstances. A clearer understanding of the nature of Vladimir Putin’s state, how it operates and why, and the challenges posed by the Kremlin, can, in Edward Crankshaw’s words, help the West view “by daylight” not only Russia itself, but also its own position and assumptions underpinning any strategy or policy towards the country. Although the authors of this collection do not adopt the normative moral framework or the ‘friend–enemy’ distinction proposed by Carl Schmitt as a foundational lens for analysing Russia or its relations with the West, the normative perspective of Crankshaw, author of ‘Russia by Daylight’, is particularly apt for this set of articles in the context of the Kremlin’s aggression against Western-supported Ukraine: “The first thing to do in any conflict is to define the enemy. Only then can we decide what the conflict is about; and until we know what we are fighting, and why, we shall not get very far.”2
Russia, its politics in the broadest sense, and the West’s approach towards the country are examined and interpreted from five distinct perspectives: history, propaganda, the strategic premises of political relations, diplomacy and economics. Each of these dimensions forms the central focus of its respective essay. The very structure of this collection, encompassing a range of perspectives and methodological approaches, demonstrates that Russia is not regarded merely as a military or diplomatic challenge to the West. It traces the centuries-long confrontation between the western outposts of Lithuania and Poland, and Muscovy – which later evolved into the Russian Empire and subsequently the USSR – highlighting the historical foundations that have shaped the present situation. It also addresses economic interests, the propagation of political myths, methods of propaganda, the development of distinctive characteristics in Russian society, and key factors influencing the culture of diplomacy. In addition, the articles examine the factors underpinning Russia’s economic resilience, bearing in mind that at the onset of large-scale aggression in Ukraine, many experts confidently predicted the ‘inevitable’ collapse of the country’s economy and a crisis that would preclude the war from continuing, whether at the end of 2022 or, at the latest, some time in 2024. They also explore the principles shaping Western perceptions of Russia and its reception since the final years of the USSR, as factors that have informed strategies and policies both over the past decades and throughout the ongoing war in Ukraine.
The authors of the articles examine the diverse and complex aspects of Russia’s development, which cannot be fully understood merely by reviewing events of the past decade, or even the past two. The traditions of imperial self-perception and ambition, combined with centralised authority and clientelistic networks, have led Moscow to repeatedly return to familiar narratives. These include invoking alleged historical rights, and references to ‘brotherly nations’, ostensibly legitimate states in Russia’s neighbourhood, and the restoration of ‘lost territories’. These motives are neither new to the Kremlin’s rhetoric nor peculiar to Putin’s Russia, but instead form part of a deeply entrenched ideology. In analysing the contemporary country, it is essential to differentiate between fundamental, structural factors and episodic events that merely produce transient political ripples. This collection posits that imperial memory is shaped not only through textbooks and official documents, but also through communal celebrations, linguistic practices, public symbols and motifs of popular culture that permeate everyday life. The authors note that the West’s approach to Russia has evolved in recent decades, shifting from notions of liberal integration and ‘Wandel durch Handel’ (‘change through trade’) towards policies of isolation and sanctions. During the 1990s and early 2000s, Germany and other nations hoped that trade and collaborative energy initiatives, such as the Nord Stream gas pipelines, would modernise Russia and, in time, foster its liberalisation. However, following the annexation of Crimea in 2014, these expectations began to unravel – initially through the imposition of economic sanctions and, after Russia’s invasion in 2022, through the unified stance of most Western countries marked by substantial financial and military support for Ukraine. Yet was this unity not a delayed – and, in many respects, insufficient – response to Russia’s aggressive policies that lacked a coherent long-term strategy? Be that as it may, the authors of this collection offer no prescriptive guidance either for Russia or for Western decision-makers, who have often fallen victim to Moscow’s deceit. The purpose of the articles is not to advise on the ‘correct’ policy, but to pose pertinent questions on Russia and its perception in the West, or provide the factual grounding for these issues. This is because, as historical, political and economic analysis shows, these matters suffer from both a lack of conceptual clarity and a basic deficiency in awareness.
In his essay in this collection, ‘Lithuania and Moscow: The Difficult Neighbourhood’, Darius Kuolys examines history as a political instrument, exemplified by the Russian Foreign Ministry’s publication ‘The History of Lithuania’ – which denies the existence of the Lithuanian nation and state, and seeks to portray the country as never having existed as a sovereign entity. The book, introduced with a foreword by Russian foreign minister Sergei Lavrov, demonstrates that manipulating history has become an integral component of the Kremlin’s diplomatic and propaganda strategy. The publication’s author emphasises that Russia has long rewritten the histories of its subordinate nations, ranging from reinterpretations of the titles of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania’s rulers to contemporary efforts to marginalise interwar independence. Kuolys illustrates how this revised ‘history’ constructs a political myth, portraying the Lithuanian language and culture as mere offshoots of Slavic language and culture, thereby providing a pretext for contemplating the redrawing of contemporary state borders. Similar pseudohistorical narratives are applied to Ukraine and Belarus, portraying them as ‘Little Russia’ and framing their 1918 independence as a product of Western intrigue. The author notes that such narratives are imbued with a veneer of academic legitimacy, having been published under the auspices of ‘historical research institutes’ and displayed in museums and universities – thereby creating the impression of scholarly authority. According to Kuolys, the response to pseudohistory should not mimic its presenter by taking the form of counter-mythology, instead requiring the enhancement of education, digitisation of archives and fostering of international scholarly collaboration. The article emphasises that Lithuanian society must invest in centres for Lithuanian studies, promote joint archival expeditions to Kyiv, Warsaw and Moscow, and resist yielding to emotive rhetoric. Kuolys cautions that the struggle over history concerns not only factual accuracy, but also symbols and national dignity, with cultural policy and the study of collective memory increasingly integral to national security strategy. In his argument, only through collaboration with other European nations can imperial interpretations of history be resisted, allowing each nation to narrate its own story without external imposition, particularly from Moscow.
In ‘The Power of Propaganda: The Ideological Foundations of Russia’s Aggression’, Gintautas Mažeikis examines the role of propaganda technologies in shaping and expanding the arsenal of hybrid power. The author differentiates between hard, smart, and soft types of propaganda, and examines how these are strategically combined within Putin’s political narrative. In this context, hard propaganda refers to the use of physical force and repression, smart propaganda to control over the media, social networks and technological platforms, and soft propaganda to the instrumentalisation of culture, history and myths. These types of propaganda are intertwined, with news outlets such as ‘Russia Today’ and ‘Sputnik’ positioning themselves as alternatives to mainstream international media, platforms like Telegram and TikTok leveraging their algorithms to engage younger audiences, and cultural organisations sponsoring initiatives that serve broader geopolitical objectives. Among other observations, Mažeikis points out that Moscow’s propaganda portrays Russia as rooted in the early days of Kievan Rus, thereby asserting a claim to the lands of so-called ‘brotherly’ nations. Furthermore, he notes that the Kremlin strategically manipulates the information space to sway both audiences sympathetic to Russia and the wider European public, fostering doubt and encouraging at least partial acceptance of its political narratives. In his article, Mažeikis examines the culture of the post-truth world, demonstrating how social media algorithms amplify information noise and undermine critical thinking. The author provides examples of how rumours, such as those of alleged biolabs in Ukraine and a “fascist junta in Kyiv”, initially circulate on the fringes of the information space, only to then be amplified by official media, transforming them into an ‘alternative’ to what would conventionally be regarded as objective reality. He advocates for greater investment in media literacy and a deeper awareness of our own information bubbles as means of safeguarding against not only the Kremlin’s narratives, but also domestic populism and conspiracy theories. Technological advances, such as artificial intelligence and deepfakes, equip propaganda with powerful new tools, making it essential for resilient infrastructures to continuously adapt to prevent democratic discourse from being exploited for manipulation. Mažeikis concludes his article by emphasising that propaganda is not unidirectional, but that audience engagement, critical thinking and media accountability should serve as active forces in building resilience to manipulation.
Vladimiras Laučius’s essay, ‘After the War: Europe, Russia, and Justice’, examines current Western strategies and the political thought traditions that shape them, while exploring the principles that might guide Europe’s relationship with Russia in the aftermath of the war in Ukraine. The author examines two paradigms – the pragmatic (economism) and the idealistic (moralism). Economism rests on the widely held belief, which has and continues to shape the West’s relations with Russia, that trade and investment inherently promote political liberalisation, as well as encourage states and people to pursue peaceful cooperation driven by material incentives. Proponents of this approach, familiar from German politics in recent decades, have traditionally relied on the principle of ‘Wandel durch Handel’, and tend to assume that robust energy and trade relations with Russia will inevitably encourage its compliance with the international order and adherence to Western norms of political conduct. However, Russia’s invasion of Ukraine starkly revealed the political and intellectual limitations of this European strategy. Meanwhile, idealistic moralism, particularly since February 2022, calls for radical solutions that are currently constrained by a lack of political will, insufficient resources and a limited grasp of practical realities. One may call endlessly, to the point of exhaustion, for Russian politicians and leaders of the security forces responsible for aggression to stand trial at the Hague, just as prominent Nazi figures once faced trial at Nuremberg. However, it is clear that such demands bear little relation to practical possibilities, while the moralism underpinning them contradicts not only common sense, which advocates compromise, but also fundamental principles of morality. In highlighting the shortcomings of both economism and moralism through insights from political philosophy and acknowledgment of the need for a deeper understanding of Russia, Laučius proposes a third path – not the export of democracy, nor the economism of ‘Wandel durch Handel’, but an approach that prioritises Western geopolitical interests, blending moral considerations with strategic realism.
In her article ‘Diplomacy at War: Russia’s Foreign Policy after February 2022’, Emilija Pundziūtė-Gallois explores the often invisible yet influential work performed by diplomats. She employs the metaphor of phytoplankton to illustrate how, like these microorganisms, diplomats perform essential functions while frequently remaining invisible. Pundziūtė-Gallois traces the evolution of Russian foreign policy from Andrei Kozyrev’s vision of liberal integration to Yevgeny Primakov’s concept of a multipolar world order – a framework that Putin later embraced as a key principle underpinning his political strategy. In the 1990s, Russia probably had a window of opportunity to integrate into the collective security system, but a combination of internal and external factors ultimately steered it in a different direction. Since the 2022 invasion, the Kremlin’s diplomatic apparatus has grown increasingly centralised, with ambassadors serving as loyal agents of the regime and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs losing much of its previous autonomy. As part of her discussion, Pundziūtė-Gallois explores Russia’s strategic engagement with the BRICS group of countries and the Shanghai Cooperation Organisation. The author argues that while Russia may gain new markets and symbolic backing through these organisations, this would not offset the consequences of its withdrawal from the Council of Europe or the Organization for Security and Co-operation in Europe (OSCE). The political scientist notes that Iran, Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Ethiopia and the United Arab Emirates were invited to join the 2023 BRICS Summit, a move that reflects a broader effort to build alternative economic and political formations within a multipolar world order. The article highlights how Russia’s emerging diplomatic culture is eroding professional standards, with the most important positions going to security-service veterans, diplomatic missions increasingly employed for disinformation operations and cyberattacks, and embassies being converted into espionage hubs.
The article by Vytenis Čipinys and Greta Kunauskaitė, ‘Key Factors Driving Russia’s Economic Resilience and Future Prospects’, examines the country’s present economic situation in comparison with the prewar period, seeking to explain the factors underpinning the resilience of the system established by Vladimir Putin. The authors note that while the International Monetary Fund (IMF) predicted an 8.5% contraction of Russia’s GDP in 2022, the actual decline was only 1.4%, as rising energy prices and the wartime economy mitigated the impact of both the conflict and Western sanctions. They also observe that the economy even expanded between 2023 and 2024, driven in part by government contracts for the defence industry and related sectors. Čipinys and Kunauskaitė identify three key drivers of Russia’s economic resilience: the expansion of the public sector and effective mobilisation of resources; the redirection of raw material exports to India, China and other Asian markets; and the central bank’s use of capital controls and high interest rates, stabilising the rouble. Russia has successfully redirected its oil exports to India and China, while reductions in pipeline gas exports have been partially compensated for by increased sales of liquefied natural gas. The authors emphasise, however, that this economic resilience is temporary, with technological isolation, limited foreign investment, restrictions on imports of electronics and microchips, and an impending demographic crisis all eroding Russia’s productive capacity. Yet even as the country’s economy shows signs of slowing, certain trends continue to benefit Russia as the ‘world’s gas station’. For instance, the production cost of a barrel of oil is only around $10 to $15, while the IMF notes that the nation’s oil industry is well-placed to withstand an extended period of low prices. The authors contend that even in the event of a prolonged global recession and sustained low oil prices, Russia’s oil sector could remain profitable.
The five essays in this collection constitute an analytical effort to explore and address the questions of ‘who’, ‘why’ and ‘what to do’ with regard to contemporary Russia and its relationship with the West. At the same time, the collection is not polemical, instead offering a practical response to the frequent assertion that the most profound and accurate understanding of Russia has historically come not from the states that endured prolonged occupation in the 19th and 20th centuries, such as Lithuania and its immediate neighbours, but from the more-distant major Western powers and, of course, Russia itself. Those who believe that politicians and experts in the United States and Western Europe are the people who understand Russia best would benefit from drawing at least some lessons from the 21st-century policies of Berlin, Paris and Washington towards Moscow, which have contributed to the current situation facing Ukraine and its most influential Western allies. It was precisely these policies, leading the West into war and deep crisis, that were rooted in the prevailing Western perception of Russia over the past quarter-century. Meanwhile, the post-2014 and, in particular, post2022 assumption that the country is best understood by Russians themselves – including analysts and politicians who have fled Putin’s regime – has even more significant intellectual and methodological gaps that are important to recognise.
The first is a technological approach to political research. This prioritises technical aspects of politics – or so-called political technologies – over the conceptual dimension of understanding, which is inseparable from political philosophy, ethics and the history of ideas. It focuses on manipulation techniques, power games, internal conflicts within the ruling elite and the dynamics of power among actors in the ruler’s circle. This approach is precisely what characterises the dominant trends in scholarship and analysis of post-Soviet Russian politics. It disregards classical political philosophy, history and ethics, treating them as largely irrelevant to contemporary Russia and, more broadly, to politics itself, which is viewed exclusively through the lens of technological thinking and detached from considerations of morality, the origins of ideas and the underlying substance of political systems. The approach shifts attention from enduring phenomena to transient events, from systemic analysis to that of individual actors, and from questioning the political order to intrigues inside the ruler’s circle. It leaves the question of what Russia is without a coherent conceptual answer. Strikingly, this approach is often adopted by Western politicians, media and certain other experts, drawing directly from Russian analysts and commentators. This trend is partly attributable to another factor complicating perceptions of the country: the duality of Russian propaganda. This is because the nation’s propaganda has long moved beyond the simplistic, straightforward narratives once crafted solely by the Kremlin. A significant share consists of narratives from the anti-Putin diaspora, among which critiques of the regime are frequently intertwined with strands of imperialist ideology. The core issue is that Russian opposition figures – many of whom have fled to the West since February 2022 – have gained significant credibility in shaping Western perceptions of Russia, often being treated as the foremost experts solely by virtue of their criticism of the Putin government. This trust in such sources, however, paves the way for distortions and interpretations of the nation that ultimately serve not the truth, but the dissemination of imperial narratives and the political promotion of a ‘different’, yet still ‘great’ and historically ‘legitimate’ Russia.
It is clear why the voices and presence of Russian intellectuals and politicians opposed to Putin have been in high demand across various European public forums since the annexation of Crimea and the conflict in the Donbas region. They have been regarded both as experts, possessing a deeper understanding of the authentic Russia than any Western analysts, and as a collective force potentially capable of transforming the country’s political system and identity. Similarly, the desire to comprehend the Kremlin’s unexpected actions in 2014 and 2022, the state of Russian society, and the prospects for war and political change in Moscow – essentially, the pursuit of a deeper understanding of the country – has led many Westerners to turn to those they regard as the foremost experts, comprising Russian intellectuals who know their country from within and share its cultural heritage. The fundamental mistake has been the naive assumption that ‘knowing from within’ is synonymous with ‘knowing best’. If that were true, everyone would compose their own perfect music, write their own ideal poetry and serve as their own flawless doctor, psychologist, or even god. But that is not the case, with introspection and one’s own intellectual or creative efforts often insufficient to achieve a deeper understanding of oneself or one’s country. Political analysis requires not only an intimate knowledge of the subject, but, equally importantly, a degree of distance that generates a perspective from afar. This is because an outside view helps preserve objectivity, enabling one to grasp the whole picture – not merely what is visible from within – and broader context, including the relationship of one’s own country to its surroundings, without the distortions of loyalty or attachment to ‘one’s own’. Understanding Russia from an external perspective is therefore precisely the aim of this collection, marking the beginning of an ongoing initiative in the form of the annual collection ‘Russia by Daylight’.
1 Keir Giles, Moscow Rules: What Drives Russia to Confront the West (Brookings Institution Press, 2019), xvi.
2 Edward Crankshaw, Russia by Daylight (London, 1951), 9.
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