Between fear and hope: how 1,000 days of war in Ukraine changed Russian mindsets

One thousand days of the war in Ukraine marks a significant milestone that not only reflects the duration of the military conflict initiated by Vladimir Putin but also underscores the profound changes it has brought to millions of people. Since the invasion began, opinions in Russian society have solidified on various topics, including the war itself, relations with Ukrainians, the state of the economy, and public sentiment. Some people have grown disillusioned with both the state and their fellow citizens, others have embraced propaganda narratives, and some have revisited fears from the past. A journalist from 7x7 asked residents of Arkhangelsk Oblast how 1,000 days of war have impacted their lives, what they have lost, and what kind of future they envision.

Their responses, analyzed by Anna Kuleshova, co-founder of Social Researchers Across Borders and founder of the research initiative Social Foresight Group, provide a simplified representation of Russian public consciousness.

Ruslan, 22 years old

"Perhaps we didn’t need to wait 1,000 days for anything to change. For me, everything shifted the moment the SMO began (Special Military Operation, or SMO, is the term Russian propaganda uses to describe the war in Ukraine). I’ve become deeply disenchanted with people, and after 1,000 days, that feeling has only grown. Before, I believed most people in Russia were kind, intelligent, empathetic, and incapable of justifying cruelty. Now I realize that’s not exactly true. Unfortunately, it seems that kind, reasonable people capable of critical thinking make up less than half of the population.

I was raised in a rather patriotic family. My great-grandfather fought in the war, and my family devoted a lot of time to discussing history. It was the same in school. I could never have imagined that people could become those they once despised — I mean Nazis — simply due to some changes in wording. Russian propaganda uses the same narratives [as the Nazis]: 'We have come to liberate certain territories.' To me, it is evident that things should not be this way, and I thought it would be clear to anyone who had studied in school. I understand that propaganda exists everywhere, but I could not believe people would so eagerly fall for such ill-conceived, talentless, and cobbled-together propaganda.

On a practical level, I’ve developed caution. I avoid saying things that could lead to charges against me [for example, using the word 'war' might result in a fine under laws about spreading 'fakes' about the army]. Instead, I use 'SMO,' which now comes out almost automatically. I’ve also resorted to a lot of self-censorship, though I try to fight it within reasonable limits. My vision of the future has changed too. I don’t understand where we’re headed. Everything seems unclear everywhere. I believe we’re in for some very fucking grim times, and I can’t even imagine where I’ll be in a year or two.

Strangely, my perception of Wagner PMC has also changed. At the start of the war, I hated them, but now I feel more pity than hatred, realizing most of them are being used. I feel the same way about SMO participants. Their lives are being bought cheaply, and they’re willing to sacrifice themselves for small sums of money. Most of my acquaintances who joined the SMO did so because of financial difficulties, even though they claim it was driven by a patriotic impulse. And that’s deeply sad. In modern Russia, people risk their lives just to afford things that shouldn’t cost so much — like an apartment or a car.

I also lost contact with some distant relatives because of our disagreements, but we weren’t particularly close, so I wouldn’t call it a major tragedy. Within my family, everything is fine — luckily, I haven’t lost anyone. I tried not to burn bridges with my relatives, even though they supported the SMO.

But I’ve gained something too. For instance, I’ve grown much closer to people who share my point of view. I’m very happy that almost everyone in my inner circle has passed this test of resilience; it shows I wasn’t wrong about them.

I don’t see an end to this fucking madness. And what exactly would end? Even if the conflict itself resolves — which seems highly unlikely anytime soon, it’ll probably drag on for a couple more years — everyone seems okay with it. The people going to war are okay with it, the authorities are okay with it. It seems like only those of us who are reasonable have a problem with it. Even if it all ends, Russia will still face many problems. There’s no undoing what’s already happened — the way other countries view us, my respect for my fellow citizens. These things will linger for years, and it’ll be up to our children and their children to deal with the consequences. This won’t just vanish without a trace."

Sociologist Anna Kuleshova’s comment on self-censorship:

"Self-censorship is not purely an individual choice; it is the result of complex social and cultural interactions, which serves as an important tool for authorities to control society, reducing the need for overt violence or repression.

Self-censorship arises as a defensive response to fears of imprisonment, discrimination, torture, social exclusion, and other threats. These fears drive people to avoid openly criticizing the authorities.

Many strive 'not to stand out' and conform to norms imposed by the state, creating an illusion of widespread agreement with the regime and enhancing its perceived legitimacy.

Self-censorship often disrupts social connections, as individuals are afraid to share their views even with loved ones, which stifles the potential for collective action, such as protests. This effectively embodies the principle of ‘divide and conquer,’ fostering an atmosphere of distrust.

Through the phenomenon of self-censorship, society develops a 'false consensus,' giving the impression that the majority supports the regime, the war, repression, and so on. This phenomenon is also known as the 'spiral of silence.'

The example of North Korea demonstrates that, under certain social and political conditions, self-censorship can manifest almost instinctively."

Anna, 24 years old

"The first thing that changed for me during these 1,000 days is the realization that in the coming years, I will probably be unable to travel freely and without difficulties. I’ve heard that many people travel through Georgia or Turkey, but I haven’t tried it myself, so I don’t know how complicated it actually is. Three years ago, people living in Saint Petersburg could easily go to Finland for a shopping trip. Like, just to buy bread. They’d stock up and come back. And now… that idea already feels like a fairytale. The second thing that has changed is my ability to find a job in the field I started studying three years ago — game modeling. When I began my studies, everyone around me said, 'This is such a sought-after field, the gaming industry is booming, the future lies in virtual reality.' And it was true — but mainly for foreign companies. Given the current situation [i.e., the war in Ukraine], most of them have left the market. Of course, you can still work with them or reach out to them, but there are challenges — such as getting paid and figuring out which bank account the money will be sent to. Russian game design is supposedly getting up off the ground, but despite all the time that’s passed, it’s still struggling. The third thing that has changed is the disappearance of foreign products and brands from supermarket shelves."

"What have I lost forever? None of my friends or relatives have been sent to defend the homeland, so I haven’t lost anyone, thank God. The only thing I’ve lost is my connection with relatives in Ukraine. But they were the ones who stopped talking to us in the very first days of the war because of their principles — believing that Ukrainians shouldn’t communicate with us since we’re Russian. Personally, I think that’s stupid, but okay then.

Do I believe this will all end soon? Well, of course, it will end sooner or later, once it stops being beneficial to those involved. But right now, it’s clearly profitable for certain people. Naturally, things won’t go back to the way they were before, but I hope they won’t get any worse! I’m an optimist, and I believe in the best because it helps me work toward my future every day."

Sociologist Anna Kuleshova’s comment on life under restrictions:

"This example demonstrates how macro-level changes (such as sanctions, isolation, and military conflict) transform into personal experiences and everyday limitations.

Before the sanctions, residents of million-plus cities (the urban middle class) viewed unrestricted travel around the world as the norm, and this significantly defined their quality of life. Difficulties in traveling through ‘third-party countries’ and the lack of direct flights have become symbols of isolation, while simultaneously highlighting social divides: wealthy individuals find ways to travel through detours, while those with lower incomes are forced to adapt to the inability to leave the country.

Sanctions imposed by the international community limit access to key resources, technologies, and markets. At the same time, Russia prioritizes allocating resources to the military and repressive structures at the expense of scientific research and new developments. As a result, we see people oriented toward global markets and cutting-edge technologies grappling with a crisis of professional identity and frustration."

Maksim, 32 years old

"I can’t say that anything in my life has changed since the special military operation began. I haven’t lost anything, nor have I gained anything. From a historical perspective, it was to be expected, as history moves in cycles. I truly feel sorry for the brainwashed Ukrainian people who have forgotten our glorious shared past, with whom we walked hand in hand for centuries. A nation that does not know its history is doomed to oblivion. It’s unclear when all of this will end, but I firmly believe in our [Russia’s] victory."

Sociologist Anna Kuleshova’s comment on faith in propaganda narratives:

"Propaganda often employs a mechanism of distancing from reality, creating the illusion that current events only affect certain groups within the population. This approach helps lower anxiety levels and fosters a passive attitude toward what is happening.

Propaganda also effectively diverts attention from real societal changes, replacing them with abstract reflections on the inevitability of historical processes.

Romanticized visions of the past and references to a ‘shared past’ are used to justify military actions. Historical narratives serve to legitimize the conflict and cultivate a sense of moral superiority among citizens. The image of a 'brainwashed [Ukrainian] nation' reinforces this, solidifying [Russians’] confidence in their own righteousness and diminishing the inclination to reflect on current events or analyze them more deeply."

Nelly, 46 years old

"Nothing in my life has changed drastically over these 1,000 days. There are no men in our family participating in the SMO. Our remote region isn't under fire, and drones don't reach us. We only see all this news on TV. We have relatives in the so-capped enemy state [i.e., Ukraine], and they are suffering because of it. Their lives have been completely turned upside down. Elderly people live in fear, enduring shelling. Refugees are also arriving in the area where they [our relatives] live.

After these 1,000 days, I’ve completely lost my pride in our country. I used to be so proud, thinking that we were on the right side in every conflict we were involved in — World War II, even the war in Afghanistan. But now, I feel like a citizen of an aggressor state, like we are alone against the entire world.

I believe it could all end soon. I saw in the news that the U.S. president [Donald Trump, who recently won the election] is assembling a team of people opposed to this conflict. And I hope that as soon as Trump takes office, negotiations will begin. I believe they will reach some sort of agreement during those talks — a ceasefire, territorial demarcation, a temporary lull. Perhaps even an exclusion zone. I want all the people, all the men fighting on both sides to return home to their families and children, to peace. All women want peace. Only men want war."

Sociologist Anna Kuleshova’s comment on visions of the future amid the war:

"Back in 2013, sociologists (for example, Yulia Baskakova) proposed the thesis that after the 2011-2012 elections, Russians lost their old vision of the future but did not acquire a new one. Surveys conducted at that time showed that the majority of the population had no clear sense of their future, even just a few months ahead. Only 10% could imagine what would happen to them in two years, while 80% of citizens did not make any plans for the future.

Ten years have passed, but the situation regarding the vision of the future has not changed radically. Its absence among the majority of citizens signals a deep societal crisis, a loss of trust in the state and social institutions, economic and political instability, as well as the decay of collective ambitions and ideas.

The lack of a vision of the future reduces social engagement; people begin to see little value in political and civic life, which ultimately strengthens the current regime. A passive population is easier to control because it does not actively demand change."

Alexey, 51 years old

"A lot has changed over these 1,000 days — not so much for me personally, but on the scale of the country, the city, and the region. I mean the reduction of national projects, the lack of funding in almost all areas, and cuts to federal, regional, and municipal budgets. Inflation is rising, and prices are increasing due to the country’s severe lack of financial resources. Many people have died and continue to die, and this is terrifying."

"Quite a lot of people are returning after demobilization or while on leave. The syndromes of Afghanistan and Chechnya haven’t gone away. People who fought in the war and learned to kill others are coming back. This will backfire — we already see it in the daily news! Rehabilitation centers, as far as I know, don’t exist yet, not even in the planning stages. We don’t know what this will lead to in the next 5–10 years, but a surge in crime is inevitable.

Of course, all of us, myself included, want this to end as soon as possible. The situation is so uncertain that it’s unclear when we might even approach peace negotiations. This will continue, but we all hope for peace to come and for our [Russia’s] victory. For all of this to finally be over."

Sociologist Anna Kuleshova’s comment on how opposition to the war may coincide with wishing for Russia’s victory:

"In a situation of social instability and the pressure of propaganda, many Russians may perceive abandoning the idea of victory as treason. This creates cognitive dissonance between rational criticism of the war and emotional attachment to collective mindsets, compelling people to endorse the symbolic idea of victory despite their personal resentment of the war.

Society is traumatized. Speaking to people who have survived the war makes the entire experience feel even more grave but also strengthens solidarity with those who have endured it. Victory would justify the sacrifices already made and reduce further losses as the war would come to an end.

Another factor influencing these mindsets is the fear of change. Losing the war might lead to a change in the political regime, which many Russians associate with the collapse of the USSR and the 'turbulent nineties' — images they have been effectively taught to fear for decades."

Nina, 85 years old

“You should ask the younger generation about how their lives have changed. I don’t really go out now, so my life hasn’t changed much. But my mindset has — fear has returned, the same fear I felt before. We are the children of war, and the memories of those years come rushing back. I think about my childhood and now my old age. Another war — it feels like the circle has closed. And I can’t help but think that things were better in the past. Nowadays, all people consider important is money, money, money. Back then, everyone was more or less equal. There were no rich or poor — nobody had anything. Now, it’s all about wealth and the rich. People didn’t think about money when they went to war."

I fear for these young men. I remember when my son was drafted into the army and was sent from Severodvinsk to Angola. I turned on the TV and saw reports about the war in Angola — and my son was there. When my neighbors came over, I opened the door, and they recoiled, wondering, 'What happened?' I said, 'There’s a war!' They looked at me, confused, and asked, 'What war?' For our generation, the very word 'war' is a boundless terror.

I haven’t lost anything during these 1,000 days. I have grandchildren and great-grandchildren who visit me and bring me food. Do I believe this will all end soon? No, I don’t. I didn’t believe it back in 2014 when it all began either — I don’t know why. I don’t understand this politics, and I don’t accept it. Things used to be simpler. We lived so well during the Soviet Union. Bring it back for our generation, and we would be happy."

Sociologist Anna Kuleshova’s comment on nostalgia for the USSR:

"Some scholars, such as Zygmunt Bauman in his book Retrotopia, use the term 'retrotopia' to describe the phenomenon of nostalgia for the past. People begin to feel that nothing good lies ahead and that the best times are behind them. In such cases, they tend to idealize the past and overlook its flaws.

For example, the Soviet Union is often associated with a time of order, stability, and equality, as the country actively promoted the idea of the absence of significant class differences. For the older generation, this became a benchmark for social justice. Over the past 30 years, however, there has been an active effort to address historical memory and the 'inconvenient past.' As we can see, the past is highly flexible and can easily be reshaped to meet the demands of the present or erased entirely. Historian and memorial culture researcher Nikolai Epple once noted that the memory of crimes caused by one’s own state, rather than external forces, is often referred to as a 'difficult past.' Acknowledging one’s responsibility without shifting blame to external or internal enemies, time, or circumstances is incredibly challenging — psychologically, politically, and legally.

At first glance, it may seem that many examples of such voluntary reassessment exist, while Russia stands alone in its struggle to come to terms with its past. However, Nikolai Epple argues that there have been no such cases involving both direct successors of perpetrators and an active political reality. In his view, even the textbook example of Germany cannot be considered an unequivocal success."

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