Putin and the Cult of the Great Patriotic War: A Tool of Power and a Double-Edged Sword

The Great Patriotic War, as it’s known in Russia and some other former Soviet Republics, is an enduring symbol of national pride, sacrifice, and ultimately, victory over Nazi Germany. For many Russians, it is more than history — it is a living testament to the resilience and valor of the Russian people. Enter Vladimir Putin, the enduring strongman of Russian politics, who has found a way to wield the Great Patriotic War as a political tool, not just to summon national unity, but also to forward his own policy objectives and consolidate power. Yet, as we dive deeper, we find that this strategy is a double-edged sword — effective but potentially unsustainable.

Invoking the Past to Shape the Present

Since Putin’s rise to prominence in Russian politics in 1999, the Great Patriotic War has been invoked repeatedly to legitimize both domestic and international maneuvers. It is a carefully orchestrated narrative that paints Putin as the defender of modern-day Russia against what is portrayed as an increasingly antagonistic West. The emotive power of wartime memory serves as a veneer, giving a semblance of righteousness to actions that might otherwise draw more scrutiny, whether it’s the stifling of dissent at home or territorial incursions abroad.

Take, for example, the annexation of Crimea in 2014. By couching the move in the language of defending Russian-speaking individuals against alleged neo-Nazi elements in Ukraine, Putin managed to link current events to the sacred memory of the war. By doing so, he framed the move as not just a territorial gain but a moral imperative. The subsequent military parade on Red Square on Victory Day, a date sacred in Russian public memory, was not just a show of military might but a celebration of the idea that modern Russia, like its Soviet predecessor, was standing strong against fascist threats.

Selective Memory and a Controlled Narrative

However, critics and historians argue that this is an appropriation and manipulation of history, noting the darker elements of the Soviet wartime and pre-war experiences that are conveniently left out. The Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, Stalin’s purges, the Katyn massacre, and the Gulag system are footnotes at best in the official narrative. These elements don’t fit well into a simplistic story of good vs. evil, and they have been glossed over or actively suppressed to create an airbrushed version of history that serves current political needs.

International Consequences and Domestic Fatigue

Internationally, the utilitarian use of wartime memory has not been without cost. The annexation of Crimea and the 2022 invasion of Ukraine led to widespread condemnation and the imposition of economic sanctions. No matter how skillfully the narrative is framed domestically, the international community largely sees these actions for what they are — a violation of international laws and a challenge to the post-World War II order.

Domestically, the risk of overreliance on the cult of the Great Patriotic War is that it may breed fatigue and disillusionment. As economic difficulties persist and social challenges mount, the Russian populace might start to question whether invoking the past, however glorious, is a substitute for effective governance in the present and a vision for the future.

A Double-Edged Sword

In conclusion, the cult of the Great Patriotic War is a potent but perilous tool in Putin’s political toolbox. While it can galvanize public support and provide a sheen of legitimacy, it’s also a strategy with diminishing returns. It omits inconvenient truths that, when considered, provide a more nuanced and less flattering view of the past. Internationally, it isolates Russia and undermines its credibility. And domestically, it may eventually erode the very sense of national unity and purpose it aims to promote, as people become weary of living in the shadows of past glory instead of addressing the present and planning for the future. Like any narrative, its power lies as much in the telling as in the willingness of people to believe it — and both are subject to change.