Russian Ego and War: An Analysis of Mentality on the Example of Russia’s Peripheral Regions and Their Attitudes toward Aggression Against Ukraine

Where humanity ends

While the world watches in horror at Russia’s brutal aggression against Ukraine, in some Russian regions — thousands of kilometers away from Moscow — the war is seen not as a tragedy, but as an opportunity. Not for peace or conflict resolution, but for improving personal circumstances, financial support, a new washing machine, a car — all thanks to someone returning (or not) from the front with a “soldier’s” pay, often earned through killing civilians.

What is most shocking is no longer the number of victims or war crimes, but the way some Russian families — especially from poorer, isolated regions like Buryatia, Tuva, or Dagestan — talk about the war. Men go to kill for a ruble, and women — their wives, mothers, sisters — speak about it with a smile, sometimes even amusement. Their connection to the front is limited to the amount of money transferred and new purchases. Moral reflection? Conscience? Horror? None.

Russian Ego and Imperial Mentality – How It Began and Where It Is Heading

In discussions about the war in Ukraine, one of the key elements is often overlooked: the psychological and cultural background of Russian society, which has been shaped for centuries by imperial ideas, inferiority complexes, and defense mechanisms against the Western world. All of this has built the Russian ego — a complex structure of collective identity in which violence, domination, and a sense of exceptionalism play a crucial role.

Ego imperium — historical background

The Russian empire expanded through conquest rather than internal modernization. Each century brought the annexation of new territories, subjugation of other nations, and the imposition of Russian culture, language, and values. Over time, the myth of the “Great Russia” was born — a state that “brings civilization” and “defends Slavic identity,” even if accompanied by violence and extermination.

This way of thinking did not disappear after the fall of the USSR — quite the opposite. In the social imagination of many Russians, there remains a belief that “Russia is only respected when it is feared.” People are raised with this conviction from childhood, fed a narrative about surrounding enemies, about a Western threat that can only be repelled by force.

Ego built on a sense of grievance and grandeur

The Russian ego is a mixture of pride and a sense of grievance. On one hand: “we are powerful, we defeated Napoleon, Hitler, we have the largest country in the world.” On the other hand: “everyone hates us, conspires against us, the West wants to destroy us.” These conflicting emotions cause internal dissonance and fear — which are most easily released through external aggression.

In this context, the war in Ukraine appears to many Russians not as an act of aggression, but as a “just response,” “defense of their sphere of influence,” “protection of Russian values.” This is a classic rationalization of violence — turning it into a mission.

The Colonizer’s Mentality and the Belief in “Inferior” Peoples

Many Russians, even those from the poorest regions, raised in poverty and forgotten by the state, carry an imperial resentment — the belief that other nations (Ukraine, Georgia, Central Asian peoples, Baltic states) should “know their place.” This often takes the form of paternalism (“The Ukrainian is our brother, but stupid and manipulated”) or outright contemptuous racism (especially towards Asians, even though they are genetically close themselves).

It is a psychological mechanism that allows the poorest Russian from a village without asphalt or sewage to feel “better” than a well-off Ukrainian. Simply because he is Russian.

When Ego Kills Humanity

War is an extreme situation in which people reveal who they truly are. But in the case of Russian society, it turns out that centuries of indoctrination, propagandistic ego, and lack of self-awareness have led to a complete loss of empathy. When wives and mothers rejoice over a “paycheck for a corpse,” when someone says with a smile: “yes, they are killing civilians there, but so what, my husband bought me a new stove” — this is not just a moral collapse of an individual. It is evidence of the degeneration of collective identity.

Imperial Ego in Conversations – The Frightening Reality of Russian Opinions

Many Ukrainian channels (e.g., Шайтельман, Єнот Диверсант, Історичний Контрпропагандист, Назанінка, Vox Veritatis, and others) regularly have conversations with Russians who honestly, often without realizing the absurdity of their own words, share their views.

Examples from conversations

Woman from the Krasnoyarsk Region
▶️ “Do Ukrainians not die? They do. But they started it! We are only defending what is ours. And my husband will now get a bonus for participating. Finally, we will buy a new stove.”
➡️ Analysis: The woman shows no moral reflection. For her, the “special operation” is not an act of violence but a social program. The inability to empathize is frightening — everything is filtered through propaganda and the need to improve life at any cost.

Man from Buryatia
▶️ “I am proud that the Buryats fight well. We are a warrior people, always have been. And if someone doesn’t like it, let them go defend Ukraine themselves.”
➡️ Analysis: The statement highlights how deeply rooted the military identity is among minorities. Often an unconscious form of collaboration with the empire, paid for with the lives of others — and their own souls.

Mother of a Young Soldier from Dagestan
▶️ “He didn’t go there to kill. He went for the money. They gave him a uniform, a weapon, and now he is a soldier. Better that than stealing.”
➡️ Analysis: Complete normalization of violence as a means of earning a living. Justifying moral decline with poverty and lack of alternatives. The state gives nothing, so when it gives weapons — it becomes a “benefactor.”

Poverty, Pride, and War – The Paradox of Regions Like Buryatia

Regions such as Buryatia, Tuva, and Dagestan are statistically the poorest parts of the Russian Federation. It is from these areas that a disproportionately large number of Russian soldiers sent to the front in Ukraine come. Despite the lack of economic, educational, and infrastructural prospects, many residents of these regions see the war as an opportunity — not only financially but also in terms of identity.

Key paradox:

Those who have the least are often the most proud of belonging to the “empire.” They do not see a contradiction in this — and this phenomenon deserves a detailed analysis.

Examples from conversations

Wife from Buryatia about her husband’s death:
▶️ “Well, he died, but we have money”
➡️ Analysis: Lack of reflection on the moral dimension of war. Focus on material benefit.

Man from Tuva:
▶️“I feel proud to serve Russia”
➡️ Analysis: Imperial ego as a substitute for personal identity and values.

Mother:
▶️“My son did not return, but at least he was a hero”
➡️ Analysis: Distortion of reality through propaganda and psychological needs.

Analysis:

Human as a Tool of the System

In regions lacking real development opportunities, the state offers only one “path to success”: the military. Thus, a young man becomes a product of the survival system, rather than a free citizen.

Smile Through Tears: Psychological Mechanisms

Many interlocutors respond with laughter or a smile when asked about loss, suffering, or death. It is a defense mechanism that allows them not to confront the reality which, deep down, they may sense as inhuman.

Imperialism as a Substitute for Values

Lack of a strong regional or personal identity leads to adopting an imposed identity: “We are Russia, we are a power” – even if in reality we are on the margins of that power.

Money, Body, and Smile – On the Brutal Pragmatism of Russian Wives

Among the most striking aspects of Russia’s war against Ukraine are not the war crimes themselves, but the social reaction to them. In particular, great surprise and shock are caused by women — wives, mothers, and partners of Russian soldiers. Instead of mourning the deaths of their loved ones, we often see laughter, indifference, or concern about whether the “death benefit” has been transferred to the account.

Hours-long phone conversations intercepted by Ukrainian intelligence, live streams with Russian bloggers, and journalists’ reports show that suffering and death have become a cold financial calculation in many Russian families. Reactions like “Well, at least I’ll get 7 million rubles” or “I laughed when they told me his legs were torn off!” are more common than anyone might expect.

Learned Indifference – The Genetics of Empire

Why is this so? Why does a woman whose husband died in the war respond with laughter and questions about money?
The answer lies in the legacy of Soviet imperialism, where for decades:

• the life of an individual was worthless compared to the good of the “collective” (or rather the state),
• poverty was a daily reality and a source of pride, not rebellion,
• The woman was to serve a supportive role and unquestionably accept the decisions of the authorities.

In this mentality, the belief has taken root that “a man is a resource”, who must either earn money or die “for the homeland” — and both options are considered equivalent, as long as they bring material or symbolic benefit. A woman, conditioned from childhood by propaganda, brutal messaging, and the state’s indifference to human life, no longer seeks justice or truth. She seeks money and “order”.

Cynicism or fear?

In conversations with Russian women, what strikes you is not only the words but the tone — the lack of reflection, the absence of questions like “why was he there?”, “what was he doing?”, “was it right?”. Instead, there is:

• “They should have equipped him better” – meaning it was the state that failed, not him.
• “It’s good that they even sent the body” – as if the basic need was to bury the corpse, not to ask questions about its meaning.
• “When he dies, they will pay anyway. Just quickly” – the epitome of losing one’s humanity.

The question arises whether it is cynicism or an internal psychological block stemming from living in fear. It is possible that both answers are true. On one hand, women know that authority does not allow questions to be asked. On the other hand, they have been taught for years that “a soldier does not think – a soldier obeys”, and “whoever questions, betrays.”

“Oh, he died? Well… what about the paycheck?”

Final Reflection – Woman as a Carrier of Mentality

In the classic social division, it is the woman — mother, wife, grandmother — who is often the bearer of values in the family and society. It is all the more horrifying when women not only accept a criminal system but even strengthen it. They laugh at mutilations, wait for the ruble, and pass on the narrative to children that “a Ukrainian is the enemy, and a husband’s death is an opportunity.”

Russian society can only change when women — as the core of home education and daily upbringing — begin to ask questions instead of counting rubles over the coffin.

Moral Awareness and Material Comfort – The Russian Compromise with Conscience

In every era and in every country, a silent conflict unfolds between conscience and survival, between ethics and convenience. However, in 21st century Russia, this conflict has reached an exceptional intensity — and its outcome surprises even the most cynical observers.

When the state wages an aggressive, unjust war, and society is aware of it — what does a decent person do? Protest? Stay silent? Leave?
In Russia, many people make yet another choice: they close their eyes and exploit the situation — for money, for peace, for convenience.

Morality in the Shadow of the Refrigerator

In the years 2022–2025, countless reports show that many Russians are aware of what the “special military operation” really is. They know it is not defense, but aggression. They know that innocent people are dying. That the country is becoming isolated, the economy is collapsing, and the law is no longer being upheld.
But instead of moral reflection, something else emerges:

• “But after all, they raised my salary”
• “My husband is now in the military – finally we’ll earn some money”
• “I prefer not to stick my neck out; I have no control over it anyway”
• “They took the boys from the neighborhood, but my son has a good job and they won’t take him”

These are not ideological arguments. This is pragmatism born from decades of living in a system that destroyed the sense of collective responsibility and encouraged selfishness.

A system that cultivates conformists

For decades, Russian society was taught that:

• “Honest” is one who remains silent and follows orders,
• Citizen initiative is a suspicious oddity,
• Ethics is a luxury that only the “naive from the West” can afford.

You don’t protest – you don’t have problems. You don’t think – it doesn’t hurt. You don’t know – you don’t answer.
And thus systemic conformity was born: people don’t want to know so they don’t have to rebel.
Those who know must do something about it. And in Russia – this often means losing your job, being beaten, imprisoned, or having your life destroyed.

I’m not guilty, I just… use it

What is particularly striking is the blurring of responsibility. If you asked an average Russian who supports the war whether they consider themselves responsible for the deaths of Ukrainians, they would answer: “But I didn’t kill anyone”.

Meanwhile:

• I work at a facility that manufactures components for weapons
• makes purchases from a network that sponsors the military
• I am raising a child in the spirit of propaganda,
• Remains silent, though knows.

And yet, he does not feel responsible, because the state has effectively taught him to think in terms of “it’s not my business”.

“I knew it was illegal, but the salary was good”, “I’m not for the war, but I have children, I have to live somehow”
There are many available materials on how people avoid talking about the war, hiding behind ignorance or “being tired of the topic”.

When Comfort Becomes Collaboration

Silence in the face of crime is a choice. Not always an easy one, but still a choice. And when silence turns into profiting from war, propaganda, repression – it becomes a form of complicity.

Ultimately, history holds accountable not only those who pulled the trigger but also those who knew and did nothing. And while every person has the right to be afraid, to protect themselves and their family, society as a whole builds the future – or deepens the tragedy – through the decisions of individuals.

“We are against the war, but…” – Russian cognitive dissonance

In Russian statements – both those published on social media and those captured in conversations conducted by Ukrainian bloggers or journalists – one surprisingly consistent sentence keeps coming back like a boomerang:
“We are against the war, but…”.

This one “but” carries within it a whole package of paradoxes, contradictions, and moral relativism that allows many Russians to simultaneously declare peaceful values and support – actively or passively – the brutal war waged by their state.

Cognitive Dissonance as a Social Norm

In psychology, cognitive dissonance refers to a situation in which a person experiences an internal conflict between their beliefs and their actions or the realities they face.
In the case of Russians, this dissonance often takes the form of “I am against the war, but I understand it was necessary,” “I support peace, but the West provoked it,” “this is not a war, this is the defense of our homeland” — a mental escape that allows them to maintain moral well-being while simultaneously supporting the state narrative.

This phenomenon is not new in history — but in Russia, it has taken on an almost mass, socially accepted character.

Defense mechanisms: “We can’t do anything,” “It’s NATO’s fault,” “It has always been this way”

Observing the statements of Russians in conversations with independent bloggers (e.g., Vox Veritatis, Andrij Popik, Шейтельман, Danylo Novikov), recurring argumentative patterns can be seen that serve to suppress feelings of guilt and responsibility:

• Blaming others: “It’s NATO’s fault, the West’s fault, the Ukrainians’ fault” – a classic mechanism of projection and shifting responsibility.
• Helplessness: “We can’t do anything,” “There is no democracy here” – paradoxically, this does not stop many of them from supporting Putin or dismissing his critics as “traitors.”
• The Banality of War: “It has always been this way,” “War is a part of history” – rationalizing violence as a natural part of reality.
• Separating war from personal responsibility: “It’s politics, not our concern,” “We are not politicians” – phrases that allow one to avoid reflecting on their own role as a citizen.

The Role of Propaganda, but Not Only That

Of course, state propaganda plays a huge role in shaping the narrative.
The daily flood of messages on television and the internet, built on emotions, historical manipulation, and fears about national security, influences the perception of the war as a “necessity.” However, the entire phenomenon cannot be explained solely by propaganda.

Many Russians can speak with full conviction that they are “against the war,” while at the same time having no problem with their country invading a neighbor, conducting a brutal occupation, and committing crimes. This is no longer just about informational obscuration — it is a deeper, cultural problem related to repressed responsibility, lack of empathy towards other nations, and a lack of habit of self-reflection.

The Cult of Strength and the Weakness of Humanity – How War Gives a False Sense of Power to Those Who Lack It in Everyday Life

Emptiness, frustration, and symbolic compensation

In societies dominated by the lack of individual influence over their own lives, war often becomes a symbolic theater of power, where everyone can emotionally participate, even if they do not take part physically. In Russia – a country where the individual has been marginalized by the state for decades and independence is seen as a threat – participation in a collective illusion of strength becomes a form of compensation.

War offers a semblance of control – in a world where the average citizen cannot change anything, they become a “moral winner” simply by supporting the power of their state. Thus:

• “They are afraid of us”
• “We set the terms”
• “We have shown the West its place in line.”

This is not real strength – it is a compensation for fear, poverty, and humiliation.

Ordinary Person and the Mythologization of Brutality

In propaganda messages and social narratives, we particularly often see the aestheticization of brutality and violence. Heroism is equated with violence, and violence with patriotism. And this is not only in the army – even civilians begin to think in terms of:

• “A firm hand is the only solution”
• “Humanism is a weakness.”

This is a complete reversal of values, where empathy is seen as “betrayal,” and strength—even if mindless—is considered the highest virtue.

The Phenomenon of “Moral Parasitism”

Many people in Russian society, especially the poorer, frustrated, and hopeless, derive moral satisfaction from the state’s successes without bearing any costs or asking questions. This is emotional parasitism on the war – not going to fight, but feeding on “great power pride.” That is why every defeat of the army triggers fury and a desire for revenge, not reflection.

Summary – the illusion of power as a social drug

When everyday life denies dignity, a person can grasp it in a fictional narrative of power. In Russia, war is not just state aggression – it is a national drug that numbs social pain, poverty, and helplessness. But the consequences are tragic: the transformation of society into an emotional machine glorifying violence.

In Russian society, where repression, inequality, and a lack of real citizen influence over the government have prevailed for decades, a deep psychological paradox has emerged: the weaker the individual in reality, the more strongly they may identify with state violence and aggression as a form of compensation.

Russia, governed for many years by the firm hand of tsars, general secretaries, and presidents, has developed among many of its citizens a peculiar cult of strength – brutal, unquestionable, imposing order. For people deprived of agency, often living in poverty, lacking healthcare or basic social security, war – as a national project – becomes not only a tool of revenge on the world, but also a personal source of pride and meaning.

Social psychologists refer to such cases as identification with the aggressor mechanisms and projection of weakness – when a person cannot confront their own lack of control, repression of fear, or trauma, they subconsciously identify with the force that enslaves them. This is why some Russians, despite experiencing poverty and humiliation themselves, proudly talk about Russian tanks, nuclear weapons, or the “Russian spirit.” Sometimes with such enthusiasm as if they were personally sitting at the controls of a missile.

War gives an illusion of power to those who have been powerless for years.

It happens that people who have no control over their fate live in housing blocks with crumbling infrastructure, low pensions, and no access to decent healthcare – they say with genuine pride:
“Everyone is afraid of us. We have rockets.”

In this narrative, the military power of the state replaces personal dignity. Power, instead of serving its citizens, offers them a role in the grand theatre of imperial might – in exchange for loyalty and silence. The less someone has in their own life, the greater the satisfaction they may feel from the “greatness of Russia” of which they are a “part”.

A psychological mechanism of self-comfort that works particularly effectively in conditions of information isolation, lack of alternatives, and media bombardment with the narrative of a “besieged fortress”.

This theme is particularly evident in the statements of some wives of Russian soldiers who, despite their husbands’ deaths “on the front,” declare that they are proud because “he died for Russia” – even though the same Russia guaranteed them nothing beyond a one-time “compensation payment.” It is precisely these women who often represent the purest example of double oppression – both emotional and systemic.

History and Education – Foundations of Moral Obscurity

In every society, the way history is taught is not merely an academic matter – it is a political, cultural, and identity decision. In Russia, this decision has been made unequivocally: history is meant not so much to educate as to shape pride, regardless of the truth. The education system, media messaging, and state propaganda together construct an image of a nation that is unwavering, self-sacrificing, and always right.

One war, one victory – and the rest remain silent

The fundamental pillar of Russian historical identity is the Great Patriotic War (i.e., World War II). It is portrayed as an epic of heroism, rather than a tragic lesson of crimes, victims, guilt, and responsibility. Meanwhile:

• milczy się o pakcie Ribbentrop-Mołotow i sowieckiej agresji na Polskę,
• nie wspomina się o zbrodniach Armii Czerwonej – zarówno na Wschodzie, jak i po wkroczeniu do Europy Środkowej,
• wygładza się represje wewnętrzne, masowe deportacje, łagry czy Wielki Głód na Ukrainie.

Instead of that – triumph, monument, eternal flame. Evil is always “somewhere else.”

Education as a tool for reinforcing myth

Contemporary Russian education not only fails to encourage critical thinking but actively replaces it with a predetermined narrative. Reforms of history textbooks (e.g., those approved by the Kremlin since 2014) are aimed at:

• usprawiedliwiać represje Stalina jako „konieczność epoki”,
• przedstawiać rozpad ZSRR jako narodową tragedię,
• budować lęk przed Zachodem jako wiecznym wrogiem i agresorem.

As a result, young people do not learn to ask questions, but only repeat loyal answers. A simple scheme is enough for them: us – victims and heroes, them – traitors and fascists.

Without truth, there is no empathy

The problem of history education in Russia is not only about falsifying facts. It concerns the lack of a moral framework:

• Nie uczy się myślenia w kategoriach dobra i zła, a jedynie lojalności wobec państwa.
• Nie mówi się o ofiarach – tylko o sile.
• Nie pokazuje się win – tylko zwycięstw.

That is why for many Russians, the idea that their country could be the aggressor is completely unacceptable. Even if their army commits crimes – it is “definitely provocation.” Even if they bomb a school – it is “definitely because Nazis were hiding there.” This is not just cynicism. It is the result of years of educational indoctrination.

This model of building identity based on the myth of victory and lack of self-reflection not only explains the current absence of opposition to the war – it actually prepared and enabled it.

A Look in the Mirror – What Have Other Nations Learned?

Different nations have gone through tragedies, wars, and declines. The key difference is not whether they have a difficult history – but what they do with that history. Do they work through it? Do they ask questions about guilt, justice, and meaning? Do they teach future generations the truth, or a convenient version of the myth?

Germany – a nation that did not flee from its guilt

After World War II, West Germany (and later the unified Germany) faced the greatest guilt in modern Europe: the Holocaust, aggression, totalitarianism. Instead of making excuses, they avoided myths and asked questions about their own responsibility.

• Stworzono muzea, miejsca pamięci, programy edukacyjne (np. obowiązkowe wizyty uczniów w obozach koncentracyjnych).
• Każde kolejne pokolenie uczy się historii poprzez pryzmat ofiar, a nie chwały.
• Patriotyzm nie opiera się tam na sile, lecz na demokracji, prawach człowieka i wspólnocie europejskiej.

This did not weaken the Germans – on the contrary, it made them more aware and resilient to extremes.

Japan – displacement and slow reconstruction

Japan, although democratic, long avoided fully confronting its own aggression in Asia (including the Nanking Massacre, sexual slavery of so-called “comfort women”).

• Wciąż trwają kontrowersje wokół podręczników historii i upamiętniania zbrodni.
• Jednak społeczeństwo obywatelskie i niezależni badacze stopniowo poszerzają debatę publiczną.
• Pojawia się coraz więcej głosów potępiających militaryzm i nacjonalizm.

This is an example that transformation can be difficult but possible – if there is no state blockade of the truth.

Ukraine – a new identity built on pain and awareness

Since 2014, Ukraine has been undergoing a profound transformation of its identity. In the shadow of war and trauma, it is building a new narrative of freedom, dignity, and historical responsibility.

• Przepracowuje trudne tematy, takie jak Hołodomor, kolaboracja, represje sowieckie.
• Tworzy przestrzeń dla pluralizmu pamięci (różne regiony, różne historie).
• W obliczu brutalnej rosyjskiej agresji wzmacnia się edukacja obywatelska, medialna i historyczna.

It is a society that learns from the past and builds resilience against propaganda.

Russia – national memory as a prison

Against this background, Russia is increasingly retreating into its own mythology. It does not ask about guilt, does not allow multiple voices, and does not recognize victims – unless they are “ours”. As a result:

• brak empatii wobec innych narodów,
• brak odpowiedzialności za zbrodnie,
• podatność na autorytaryzm i kult siły.

A society that does not know the truth about its past is like a person without a conscience – it can repeat anything without feeling guilt.

Conclusion – a mirror that does not lie

There is no society without weaknesses. There is no nation without mistakes.
But only those who look into the mirror of history can find true strength –
not built on violence,
but on the courage to admit: yes, we failed – but never again.

A nation that does not know the truth about itself can only love an illusion.
And illusion, fed by propaganda and fear, always demands sacrifices.

War not only kills people – it kills the conscience of those who justify it.
When mothers are silent, when wives laugh, when children learn hatred –
it is not the enemy outside who destroys society,
but the emptiness within.

Only where truth is more important than comfort,
where history hurts but teaches,
where empathy overcomes pride –
there grows collective maturity.

Because it’s not about being great.
It’s about being human.