Russia’s False Euphoria

For years, Russian President Vladimir Putin has used the annual Victory Day celebration on May 9, commemorating the Soviet victory over Hitler in World War II, to mark his own greatness. The Soviet triumph in 1945, has always been and remains one of very few historical events that truly unites the Russian people, and of course Putin, as his regime matured, could not help but take advantage of that. More than that, he personalized the event, appropriating its national meaning and even its public rituals. For example, the Immortal Regiment, the civil society organization that draws hundreds of thousands of ordinary Russians to march with portraits of ancestors of theirs who fought in the war, has been put completely under Kremlin control. In 2015, on the 70th anniversary of Victory Day, Putin personally led one of its columns through the center of Moscow.

Since Russia began its “special operation” in Ukraine in 2022, however, the annual holiday has taken on more contemporary meaning. Over the past three years, the Kremlin has aggressively promoted the idea that the conflict next door is a continuation of the Great Patriotic War against the West—an enemy that in past centuries was embodied by Napoleon and Hitler and now is represented by Ukraine and Europe (the United States having been, since the return to office of President Donald Trump, excluded from the list). This has become a central part of Russian state propaganda, and the Victory Day parade and related rituals are now designed to cement this thesis in people’s heads.

For all these reasons, Putin has been determined to celebrate the 80th anniversary of the Soviet victory with special fanfare. He also needs to show that he is not isolated from the world, that the best part of it—those countries and peoples who fought and are still fighting what the Kremlin calls “Western hegemony” and “colonialism”—support Russia, notwithstanding the pure imperial colonialism of the Ukrainian operation. For that reason, representatives of the “world majority”—the term the Kremlin uses to refer to countries from the so-called global South, of which Putin imagines himself to be the informal leader—were invited to march in this year’s Victory Day. The parade’s participants thus include soldiers from Myanmar, as well as various VIP guests from Equatorial Guinea, Burkina Faso, and other countries. Needless to say, these countries had nothing to do with the 1945 victory. Granted, one historic ally will be present: China, which will be represented by its formidable leader, Xi Jinping, who met with Putin at the Kremlin on Thursday. The show of unity and alliance between Moscow and Beijing carries important symbolic value, although Xi needs Putin much less than Putin needs him. It is hard not to notice, however, that the Soviet Union’s principal World War II allies—the co-authors of that historic victory—have been left out of Putin’s celebration. What is this, if not isolation from the world?

Still, lurking behind this year’s special anniversary is a more momentous change: the shifting relationship between Russia and the United States since Trump’s return to office. By now, the Russian euphoria that greeted improved relations with Washington this spring has diminished, but many Russian elites and ordinary citizens continue to pin their hopes on the Trump administration for successful mediation to end the war—and in getting U.S. support for Russia’s conditions and demands. For Putin, the new U.S. administration offers an opportunity not only for a favorable economic deal, at a moment of growing peril for Russia, but also to get out of the mess in Ukraine without losing face. Although neither Trump nor anyone else from his administration is attending the Victory Day celebrations, in official Kremlin rhetoric and propaganda the United States has been elevated to a partner, and a historic one at that, in direct contrast to Europe, which is now the main enemy. Not so long ago, it was the other way around.

TANGO WITH TRUMP

At least since the beginning of the Cold War, the United States has played a central role in the Russian collective consciousness. For decades, Russians have regarded their superpower rival with a mixture of admiration and hatred, condescension and envy. Often, they have seen themselves as spiritually superior but materially inferior to their Yankee counterparts. Of course, the conspiracy-minded have long asserted that the United States is behind every significant event in the world, including Russia’s own problems, which are, according to this type of thinking, the result of covert U.S. policies. In Russian propaganda in recent years, it has been standard to hear references to “Anglo-American imperialism” or “Anglo-Saxons”—a derogatory Russian expression for the threatening dominance of the United States and the United Kingdom. Europe, in this design of hatred, was simply included under the general “West.” As a result, even in Putin’s time, Europe was treated in much the same way as the United States: if attitudes toward the United States worsened, Russians became more suspicious of the European Union.

Yet Trump’s victory and peacemaking efforts have upended the conventional thinking: now, Europe, including the United Kingdom, has become the principal source of evil, while the United States is good. Already in late February, during a visit to the Federal Security Service—the successor to his own alma mater, the KGB—Putin noted that contacts with the new administration in Washington “inspire certain hopes,” adding that “not everyone is happy to see Russian-U.S. contacts resume” and that the security services would need to be vigilant not to have the new “dialogue” be derailed. Continuing this line a few days later, Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov commented that, contrary to long-standing Soviet and Russian doctrines, the United States has never been a warmonger toward Russia; Europe has always been the primary threat. “Over the past 500 years, all tragedies in the world originated in Europe or occurred owing to European policies,” he said.

Stirred up by such statements, many ordinary citizens and even elites have begun to entertain visions of peace. It had already become evident by the second half of 2024 that a majority of Russians desired peace talks, but this trend has notably intensified with the arrival of Trump. Many Russians now view the United States as a pragmatic partner and expect that the war will be settled through direct negotiations between Moscow and Washington. In a January survey by the independent Levada Center, respondents agreed that, in principle peace is only possible with a mediator, and of course, among others, that could be the United States. By February, however, the belief in U.S.-led mediation had notably taken root. In another Levada survey that month, a large majority of respondents—70 percent —said that the United States should be at the table with Russia, and an even greater majority—85 percent—approved of the bilateral meetings between Russia and the United States in Saudi Arabia that began that month. As the Russian public sees it, although there will have to be agreements with Ukraine, the most important goal is to find common ground with Trump. By getting the president to back Putin’s key demands, Russia will be guaranteed a sustainable peace agreement now and beneficial economic ties in the future. Fueled by these expectations, Russians have notably softened their anti-American sentiment: whereas in September 2024 just 16 percent of respondents had a positive attitude toward the United States, by February 2025 the proportion had nearly doubled, to 30 percent.

Many Russians have maintained a consensus of silence about the war.

The Kremlin’s rhetorical pivot toward the United States has also bolstered its own popularity. Perhaps on the expectation of peace, the approval rating of Lavrov, the foreign minister, which had previously been stagnating, has risen in Levada’s surveys, briefly making him the second most trustworthy politician after Putin. (Although in April, as negotiations began to stall, Lavrov slipped back to third place again, behind Prime Minister Mikhail Mishustin, the usual second-place holder.) The Russian business community has also been encouraged by the apparent willingness of Washington to make deals with Moscow, with some even claiming that the United States could be a source of revenue for the national budget. This could be important, given that oil revenues, which have for much of the war helped replenish Russian coffers, are significantly down in 2025 thanks to falling global prices. Russian political and business elites understand that Trump’s economic policies could further erode oil prices and complicate Russian energy exports.

As many Russians see it, Putin, with his psychological complexes (his sense of personal greatness) and geopolitical designs (his dream of Greater Russia), finally has a counterpart with whom he could agree on the redivision of the world. With Trump, the thinking goes, Putin can turn a hot war into a cold one and be satisfied with that—after all, Russian military and financial resources are not unlimited. These assumptions are fueled by the Russian understanding of Trump himself. A substantial portion of the population see Trump as a true peacemaker, a “sober and intelligent” politician, as some survey respondents put it. To many ordinary Russians, he is a businessman who understands the language of pragmatic deals—including the peace that Russians hope is coming their way. Moreover, in contrast with former U.S. President Joe Biden, most do not consider Trump to be anti-Russian. Despite the lack of progress, hopes for a U.S.-led mediation remain, and disappointment in Trump has not set in—at least not yet.

It is important to note that Russians’ newly positive attitudes toward the United States are only partly a consequence of high expectations that peace negotiations will succeed. Among Russia’s small liberal stratum, people separate Trump from the United States: they generally regard the MAGA president negatively, if not with horror, but tend to view the United States as a bastion of the Western world and democracy. This liberal segment hopes that the country’s democratic institutions will keep it from sinking into autocracy. Sociologically, these people include the more educated youth; people who disapprove of Putin’s policies, including his war; and those who are specifically liberal in orientation. These also tend to be consumers of independent news, often via YouTube (watched via VPN), which for many Russians is now a main platform for getting information and opinions outside official channels. One way or another, how Russians view the United States remains a primary factor in how they see Russia’s own position in the world.

PEACE OR PROCRASTINATION?

In the immediate background to Russians’ new hopes for peace are the mounting psychological effects of the war. The extraordinary human cost, the overall ferocity, and the seemingly endless fighting have exacted a quiet toll on the population. The continued hostilities have disturbed the comfort of those who are not in the trenches. Even so, a majority of Russians have maintained what might be called a consensus of silence about the traumas of the war. In its April survey, Levada found that 40 percent of Russians now think that Putin’s expansionism has brought harm to the country, against 33 percent who believe it has benefited Russia. (Another 28 percent were unsure.) According to the survey, those who believe that the “special operation” has brought more harm than benefit talk about the great loss of life, whereas those who see more benefit than harm tend to mention, above all, the “return of historic Russian lands.”

For many Russians, it appears to be much easier to maintain a normal life by avoiding the true reality of the war or having to think about it. Apart from the regions of the country bordering the war, the “special operation” itself continues to remain elsewhere for most Russians: Ukraine’s invasion of the Kursk region and its drone strikes inside Russia, which tend to be mostly repelled, have not shaken this habit of psychological distancing. Nevertheless, a clear majority of the public wish the war would go away.

Of course, there are those who have always been against the war, but they constitute no more than 20 percent of the population—about the same size as the group of fervent Putin supporters known as “turbopatriots,” who want the war to continue, arguing that it is necessary for Russia to finish the job. Most ordinary people who are in favor of peace talks still set two fundamental conditions: Ukraine cannot join NATO and the conquered territories must remain part of Russia. But there is also another problem: many people have financially benefited from the military economy and the various bonuses and salary increases that have come with it. Some thus view the prospect of impending peace as a threat to their possible earnings, something that the state, always strapped for manpower, has been quick to take advantage of: in recent months, posters have begun appearing calling on Russians to hurry to sign a lucrative military contract before the war ends.

Yet for anyone paying attention, peace remains elusive. And since Trump and Putin have talked up the idea, the Russian leader will have to begin portraying what has been accomplished so far as a victory. Because the Kremlin has avoided defining what “victory” means, the majority of the population will likely perceive a peace deal as meeting Putin’s minimal demands and therefore fit the bill. In other words, Russian troops do not necessarily have to move much farther West for Moscow to claim a win. Moreover, by continuing the war and incurring further Russian costs, Putin could make it harder to achieve an end that the public can call victory: there has been no economic catastrophe in Russia yet, but stagflation—the combination of slow economic growth with high inflation—has clearly taken root.

A larger challenge for Putin is how to maintain stability when the fighting stops. Hundreds of thousands of veterans will return from the front. They are all war heroes and will demand to be treated as such. But not enough coveted job placements and other rewards will available. This is where the problems may start: the same mainstream society, conditioned for so long to be indifferent to the war, may start to perceive veterans as unwelcome competitors for jobs. Moreover, the structural changes to the economy the Kremlin has made since 2022—including higher wages and preferential treatment for businesses and workers in the military-industrial complex—will have to be reversed. This, too, could have destabilizing effects. Yet if the war continues and the government fails to address the needs of veterans, or to deal with the growing distortions in the domestic economy, it will face even greater trouble.

So Putin faces a crisis of inflated expectations. By dragging out negotiations with Trump, he is hedging: on the one hand, ending the hot phase of the conflict will create destabilizing shifts in the economy and society; on the other hand, the growing public assumption that peace is coming must be satisfied sooner or later. For now, he has no solution and is stalling. He may recognize that most Russians are willing to tolerate, at least for a little longer, his procrastination about ending the war.

But there is another factor at play: Trump’s limited patience. The Russian autocrat would not want to miss an unparalleled chance to turn a U.S. president into an ally, for both political and economic reasons: a peace treaty could turn out to be an economically favorable deal, the proceeds of which would prolong the life of Putin’s regime. No one can predict when Trump might in fact “walk away” from his peace efforts, as his administration has threatened, or how Putin might react to the disappearance of a potential deal. But refusing to negotiate would make the overall situation even more complex and dangerous. Such is Putin’s dilemma.

CONSUMER LOYALTY

Amid this uncertainty, Russia’s elites remain a black box. It is difficult to measure their desire for peace or their attitudes toward the regime they serve: the dissatisfied are silent, while the more adaptive rush to make careers in which they can combine political hyperloyalty with technocratic efficiency. But even many of the elites expect the war will end, albeit not soon. In one of his recent interviews, for example, Lavrov seemed to be taking aim at Russian liberal officials who were gaming out a different postwar future. If sanctions are lifted, he warned, some “liberals” will try to “roll back the achievements of import substitution, of the sovereignization of our economy.” It is unclear whom he had in mind, not to mention the fact that these wartime policies have little to show for them: “sovereignization” and uncontrolled levels of military spending have already created colossal long-term problems in the economy.

In any case, the mounting expectations of peace and victory should not be confused with hopes that the Kremlin is going to reliberalize: the Putin regime is rigid, highly repressive, and designed for repression. According to the OVD-info portal, an independent monitor of human rights in Russia, as of early May, the state has pending charges against 3,284 people for political offenses, of whom 1,590 are now in jail. The Ministry of Justice has now designated more than 900 Russian entities as “foreign agents,” with more added almost weekly, and more than 500 of these are individual citizens, who face a colossal restriction of their rights. The state also maintains a separate list of undesirable organizations, whether Russian or foreign, for which anyone who cooperates with them could face criminal prosecution. All independent online media are blocked and can only operate illegally and can only be read and watched using VPN.

The garrison state will not simply disappear when the guns go silent. The ever-growing demands to show patriotic behavior—from the introduction of loyalty rituals in schools to verbal displays of loyalty to Putinism by the heads of businesses, universities, libraries, and other institutions—will not go away. Nor will the regime stop its war against civil society. Indeed, it is possible that the Kremlin, without the distraction of war, will double down on repression and the indoctrination of Russia’s youth.

Putin faces a crisis of inflated expectations.

If the West were reopened to Russians and consumerism were able to flourish again, it might be enough to keep the depoliticized center compliant, even under a still harsher regime. There is already a good deal of speculation about the imminent return of Western brands to Russia. In March, about half of those polled by the Levada Center said that every Western company should be scrutinized and only those that are deemed loyal to Russia should be allowed back into the Russian market. Almost 20 percent said that all companies that have left should be allowed back in, without restrictions, whereas a quarter of respondents said that such companies should not be allowed in at all. In other words, many Russians seem to assume that Western companies will flood into Russia the moment the war is over. Here, too, they are prone to inflated expectations.

To satisfy any of these cravings, Putin will have to reach a peace agreement, preferably supplemented by an economic deal, or series of deals, with Trump. Only then will it be possible to prolong the Kremlin’s implied social contract with Russian society: in exchange for the state delivering peace and victory, citizens will be expected to show total loyalty to the regime (and those who do not will face reprisals). As a bonus, the market economy and normal levels of consumption will be preserved.

Of course, Putin has already made huge numbers of Russians into his accomplices, and to a certain extent, that guarantees their loyalty. But there is a downside to keeping an entire population as political hostages. If you remove this system’s main element—Putin—it will start to collapse. In such a scenario, as Russians adjust to new external circumstances, new inflated expectations may arise. But by that point, they will be directed at a new leader.