When Words Really Matter
Russia's War Against Ukraine and the Battle of Narratives
It has been over 900 days since Russia launched its so-called ‘three-day crusade’ to capture Kyiv. As of now, Ukraine’s army has not only halted the invasion but has also crossed into Russia. Recently, reports of Ukraine’s surprise incursion into the Kursk region—territory internationally recognized as part of the Russian Federation —have transformed from a minor incident to major global news: for the first time since WWII, Russian territories have been occupied by a foreign army, and for the first time the borders of a nuclear power have been breached. None expected that Ukraine would turn the tables and strike back at Russia.
The power of words and narratives
Amidst secrecy and silence, the extent of Ukraine’s control in Russia’s Kursk region remains unclear. While military experts assess the situation, this blog focuses on the war of narratives. From the outset, Russia’s aggression against Ukraine has been as much a battle of meanings as it has been of military force. In this war, words wield significant power, shaping perception and influencing the course of events. This post examines how war narratives are constructed and contested, highlighting the critical importance of mindful language when discussing Russia and Ukraine—whether in everyday conversations, academic discourse, mass media, political speeches, social media, or legal contexts.
Our identities are shaped by the stories we tell, sometimes without our conscious awareness. The words we choose do more than communicate — they shape perceptions. In the realm of public discourse, the interchangeable use of terms like ‘spy’ versus ‘secret agent’, ‘fighter for independence’ versus ‘separatist’, ‘revolution’ versus ‘coup d’état’, ‘activist’ versus ‘hooligan’, ‘resistance fighter’ versus ‘terrorist’ can frame the same events in vastly different ways, showing that language is never neutral. It has the power to shape narratives, and through them public opinion and state policy. Indeed, words matter, and Russia’s propaganda machine knows this well, as evidenced by its use of the term ‘special military operation’ to describe its war against Ukraine. This carefully crafted language masks the gravity of the aggression, making it seem like a distant conflict, inconsequential to most Russian citizens.
Decoding Putin’s Special Military Operation
To understand the narrative behind the term ‘special military operation’, it is essential to examine how it was constructed and justified. Putin’s argumentation is based on three concepts – ‘demilitarization,’ ‘denazification,’ and ‘Russia’s historical lands’ – which are articulated as follows:
- Ukraine is a historical mistake, an artificial state created on what Putin claims are Russia’s historical lands.
- The collective West controls Ukraine, using it as a pawn against Russia.
- Russia, therefore, has the right to reclaim these historical lands to prevent NATO’s eastward expansion, which is portrayed as an imminent threat to Russia.
In this narrative, ‘demilitarization’ and ‘denazification’ are framed as measures for Russian security, while the concept of ‘historical lands’ appeals to Soviet nostalgia and Russia’s imperial ambitions. This rhetoric not only denies Ukraine’s right to exist but undermines the basic principles of international law with a vague concept of ‘historical rights’ and ‘historical justice’. The blend of security concerns with historical sentiments is a dangerous mixture of arguments to justify the most serious violations of international law. The last time such rhetoric prevailed, it served as a precursor to World War II.
Repressions and Narratives Control
It is important to note that Russia amended its criminal legislation to suppress anti-war protests and safeguard the narrative of a ‘special military operation’. Just one week after the invasion, Russia’s parliament unanimously adopted two key articles to stifle criticism:
Article 207.3 of the Criminal Code punishes ‘public dissemination of deliberate false information about the use of the Russian Armed Forces’ while Article 280.3 of the Criminal Code further suppresses opposition by penalizing any public actions or statements that ‘discredit’ the Russian military.
The first article effectively shields state narratives, silencing anti-war voices, while the second outlaws any critique of the Russian army, including reports on Russia’s war crimes, losses or defeats – anything undermining the image of the Russian Armed Forces is illegal. Together, these articles enforce a unified vision of the ‘special military operation’ and punish any dissent.
The law’s vagueness compelled commentators to create euphemisms that portray Russia’s failures in a positive light, thereby avoiding criminal charges. For example, Russia’s economic decline is termed ‘negative economic growth’ and ‘economic overheating’; explosions caused by Ukrainian attacks on Russian territory are referred to as ‘khlopok’ (a ‘pop’, ‘snap’ or ‘clap’). Russia’s retreat from Kyiv was a ‘gesture of goodwill’, while its withdrawals from the Kharkiv region and Kherson were labeled as ‘regrouping’. Even the sinking of the Russian warship ‘Moskva’, struck by Ukrainian forces, was framed as an ‘accident during towing’. This wording aligns with the narrative of a ‘special military operation’, denying the harsh realities of war.
By manipulating language, Russia has created its own Orwellian ‘Newspeak,’ while by twisting criminal law, it has effectively set an ‘Orwellian trap’ – so intricate that even seasoned Russian propagandists struggle to navigate the maze of restrictions and penalties. In autumn 2022, when Russian military forces had to leave Ukrainian Kherson (by that moment, the Kherson region had been incorporated into the Russian Constitution), Andrey Norkin, a presenter on Russia’s state channel NTV and a staunch supporter of Putin’s invasion, epitomized the dilemma. Addressing the situation in Kherson, he stated: “If you’re expecting me to comment on this, I won’t. Here’s why: If I endorse the decision to withdraw from Kherson and argue that the Defense Minister’s actions were correct, I risk publicly advocating for a breach of Russia’s territorial integrity. According to our Criminal Code, that’s Article 280(1)… On the other hand, if I criticize the decision and argue that leaving Kherson was a mistake, I’d be publicly discrediting the Russian Armed Forces, which falls under Article 280-3. I’d rather avoid prison and give the floor to our experts.”
Has Ukraine’s advance into Russia’s Kursk region altered the rhetoric? The answer is no. The entire Russian leadership remains deafeningly silent on the Kursk battles. Ukraine launched its operation on the night of August 5-6, 2024. It took Putin several days to respond. When he finally did, he downplayed the incursion, calling it a ‘situation,’ a ‘large-scale provocation,’ and ‘indiscriminate shooting’. Ultimately, Ukraine’s advance on Russia’s territory was framed as a ‘terrorist attack.’ Since then, Putin has carefully avoided discussing Russia’s losses in the Kursk region. It seems that the Kremlin prefers not to notice the problem, pretending that nothing extraordinary has occurred. This tactic aligns with the overarching narrative of the ‘special military operation’: there is no war on Russia’s territories – only a fight against terrorism, which is merely an element of the special military operation.
Unpacking the Language: Does ‘War in Ukraine’ Implicitly Mean ‘Russia’s Aggression’?
In contrast to Russia, which has developed its own ‘Newspeak’ and imposed criminal sanctions to safeguard its narratives, many around the world—including Ukraine’s supporters—have been surprisingly careless with their language when discussing Russia and Ukraine. Across various contexts—from news reports and academic articles to political speeches and policy briefs—Russia’s war against Ukraine is too often framed in neutral terms like a ‘conflict in Ukraine’ or simply a ‘war in Ukraine’. While this neutrality differs from the neutral framing of a ‘special military operation’, it is still damaging. By not explicitly naming Russia as the aggressor, such wording dilutes Russia’s accountability, downplays the invasion, and, albeit unintentionally, contributes to the Kremlin’s narratives.
It might be argued that the distinction between terms like ‘Russia’s war against Ukraine’ and ‘war in Ukraine’ is purely semantic, as many assume the latter implicitly means Russia’s aggression. Unfortunately, this is not the case.
Consider the events of Spring 2014, when Russia annexed Crimea. The UN Security Council, blocked by Russia’s veto, was unable to take concrete action. However, on March 27, 2014, the UN General Assembly adopted Resolution A/RES/68/262, reaffirming Ukraine’s territorial integrity and declaring the so-called Crimean referendum illegal. What is striking about this resolution is its avoidance of naming Russia as the aggressor. While the document supports Ukraine and its territorial integrity, it does not explicitly condemn Russia or even mention it. From reading the Resolution, it is unclear how Ukraine lost a part of its internationally recognized territory. Russia was not named and shamed as the aggressor.
Another example: In July 2023, the EU-Latin America summit in Brussels exposed deep divisions over how to address Russia’s war against Ukraine. While Europe stands firmly with Ukraine, many Latin American countries view this war as a distant issue and prefer to remain neutral. These differences led to difficult negotiations over the summit’s final declaration. Despite efforts to soften the language, including watering down the initial draft from ‘strongly’ condemning Russia’s violation of Ukraine’s sovereignty to merely ‘expressing concern’ about the war in Ukraine, the Summit failed to agree on a final statement. Nicaragua’s objection to the phrase ‘war against Ukraine’ blocked consensus. In the end, 59 of the 60 countries agreed on language that expressed ‘deep concern on the ongoing war against Ukraine’ without mentioning Russia as the aggressor. The fact that a few words could derail the agreement highlights both the profound impact of language in diplomacy and the widespread reluctance to directly label Russia as the aggressor.
Calling the perpetrator by name: ‘Russia’s war against Ukraine’
The way we talk about Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has far-reaching implications, not only for public perception but also for international policy and accountability. How we label this conflict—whether we call it the ‘war in Ukraine’ or ‘Russia’s war against Ukraine’—influences how we understand responsibility, justice, and the path to peace. ‘War in Ukraine’ means simply that there is a war in Ukraine, implying state failure and conflict on its territory. This wording reduces Russia’s aggression to an internal conflict within Ukrainian borders. It diminishes Ukraine’s statehood by depicting Ukraine not as an independent nation, a subject to aggression, but merely as a geographical location, a war-torn territory. At the same time, it obscures Russia’s role as the aggressor: if this is merely a war in Ukraine, then Russia’s involvement is erased from the narrative. Russia has nothing to do with it.
Moreover, using terms like ‘conflict in Ukraine’ or ‘war in Ukraine’ shifts and blurs the responsibility, subtly suggesting that Ukraine itself is to be blamed for the conflict simply because this is a war in Ukraine. This distortion has real-world consequences. For instance, the controversy surrounding Amnesty International’s report ‘Ukraine: Ukrainian fighting tactics endanger civilians’ in August 2022 illustrates this point. The report accused Ukraine of violating international humanitarian law by ‘launching military attacks from populated civilian areas.’ It emphasized that ‘Ukrainian forces have put civilians in harm’s way by establishing bases and operating weapons systems in populated residential areas, including in schools and hospitals, as they repelled the Russian invasion… Such tactics violate international humanitarian law and endanger civilians, as they turn civilian objects into military targets. The ensuing Russian strikes in populated areas have killed civilians and destroyed civilian infrastructure.’
The report’s tone and narrative, which made Ukraine primarily or equally responsible for the harm caused by Russia’s missiles, was harshly criticized. Responding to criticism Amnesty International convened a panel of experts to reassess the report. The experts concluded that the language used in the report was ‘ambiguous, imprecise, and in some respects legally questionable.’ It remains uncertain whether Amnesty International fully accepted the criticism, as the original report and press release are still available on its website, albeit with a mention of the legal review. What is clear, however, is that Russian state-sponsored media capitalized on the report, using it to support Moscow’s narrative that Russia is solely targeting military objectives during its special military operation in Ukraine.
In contrast to terms like ‘war in Ukraine’ or ‘conflict in Ukraine’, expressions such as ‘Russia’s war against Ukraine’ or ‘Russia’s aggression against Ukraine’ accurately reflect the geopolitical and legal reality and are essential for holding Russia accountable for its violation of international law. This wording places responsibility where it belongs: with Russia, the aggressor.
Recently, there has been growing talk that the West is becoming fatigued with the ongoing war. But it is important to clarify: Is the West tired of the war in Ukraine, or is it tired of Russia’s war against Ukraine? While both questions address the same event, the implications are starkly different. If the West is tired of the war in Ukraine, it should convince Ukraine to surrender and accept Putin’s demands to end the conflict. Conversely, if the West is tired of Russia’s aggression against Ukraine, it should intensify its efforts to compel Russia to cease its hostilities. This involves imposing additional sanctions on Russia and increasing political, military, and economic support for Ukraine.
Naming the perpetrator costs nothing but changes everything. This is not just a war in Ukraine; this is Russia’s war against Ukraine. Russia is the aggressor that has invaded Ukraine. It is Russia, not Ukraine, that must be stopped. If Ukraine stops defending itself, it ceases to exist as a sovereign nation; if Russia stops its aggression, the war ends.
The stakes are high, and our words, as much as our actions, shape the path to peace.
As an international lawyer and Ukrainian citizen, my insights into Russia’s invasion come from my roles as a legal expert, witness, and victim of the war. While I strive to present an objective analysis, my personal involvement and the harsh realities of living through Russia’s aggression may introduce a degree of bias. It is important for me to transparently acknowledge this risk providing context about my background and perspective from which I write.
