The Kursk Anomaly: Why Russia chooses to ignore the occupation of its own territory

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The ambiguity of Russia's official stance

A political leader’s response to any event can be gauged either by their actions or by their rhetoric. Decisions are made, such as appointing or dismissing officials, deploying troops, creating new agencies, or reorganizing old ones. These decisions are accompanied by public rhetoric: addresses to the nation, meetings with subordinates, and communication with the public. The late Venezuelan leader Hugo Chávez, for instance, would sing and play guitar for hours on national television — this was his unique form of public communication.

It would be inaccurate to say that the Russian commander-in-chief has completely ignored what is happening in the Kursk Region. Despite his tendency to disappear and wait things out when unexpected events occur, Putin began addressing the Kursk incursion relatively quickly. He first commented on the incident on Aug. 7, the day after the border breach, during a meeting with government officials.

The invasion was initially labeled as “yet another provocation,” albeit a “major” one. Later, it was described as an “act of banditry and terrorism targeting civilians.” This narrative was reinforced by Russia’s declaration of its Kursk, Bryansk, and Belgorod regions as zones of a counter-terrorist operation (CTO). The responsibility for conducting a CTO falls not on the military, but on the Federal Security Service (FSB), suggesting that this is not a confrontation between two armies, but rather a struggle between the FSB and some isolated groups of terrorists and bandits.

A week after the start of the Kursk operation, Russian officials were most often referring to it as a “situation that has developed.” Note the use of the past participle: the situation supposedly “developed” on its own, emerging from internal dynamics rather than external forces, and it did so long ago — not a situation currently unfolding, but one that has already “taken shape.”

According to Russian social anthropologist Alexandra Arkhipova, such phrasing is a classic example of softening euphemisms — a form of Orwellian “Newspeak” meant to blur the public’s perception of something dangerous, alarming, or harmful. A similar tactic was employed by Russia’s Central Election Commission when it canceled elections in several of the Kursk Region's districts, citing “territorial uncertainty” — a term reminiscent of the language used in Russian media during the Chechen campaigns of the late 1990s and early 2000s.

At the same time, there are also numerous reports about how the entire country is assisting the Kursk Region's residents, who have been “forced to leave their homes” (without any explanation of the reasons). Anyone who used Russia's Gosuslugi state services portal in August would have encountered two appeals: one encouraging support for the Kursk Region's local residents through purchases from the e-commerce websites Ozon and Wildberries, and another urging users to post advertisements on Avito — Russia's version of eBay — offering free housing for refugees.

While the reasons behind the residents of Kursk becoming refugees remain unspecified, every citizen of Russia was informed via Gosuslugi that unnamed malicious forces were harming people in the region, prompting their departure.

The overarching policy concerning the Kursk issue is to minimize visibility. While discussing it is not prohibited, conversations should avoid the context of war and instead focus on acts of terrorism. Attention can be directed to the social assistance provided by the state through governors, as well as to the support from Russian society, including the efforts of compassionate citizens, dedicated volunteers, and other members of the community. However, one should not anticipate rapid results; the expulsion of hostile forces will be gradual, not swift.

This rhetorical framework has remained almost unchanged for two months.

Loyalists vs. “hawks”

Russian reports in the early days speaking of their successful “expulsion” and repeated “destruction” of invading enemy groups did not come from the usual official spokespeople, but rather from Apti Alaudinov, the commander of the Chechen special forces grouping in the area. It wasn't until Aug. 12 that Andrei Kartapolov, head of the State Duma's Defense Committee, spoke out. However, Kartapolov did not discuss how decisively the Russian military (or FSB special forces) were defeating the enemy; instead, he asserted that there was no need for mobilization, addressing a key concern within Russian society.

Although Alaudinov holds an official position in the Ministry of Defense, he acted more like a field commander of the Akhmat battalion. This caused considerable irritation among ultra-militarists and Russian radicals, primarily for ethnic reasons. They generally dislike it when a Chechen speaks on behalf of the Russian state, and based on their bitter experiences from past years, they are preemptively annoyed by the persuasive tone and grandiose descriptions of captures, the destruction of enemy equipment and personnel, and other stylistic features characteristic of the “TikTok troops” who make up Ramzan Kadyrov’s forces.

Meanwhile, television propaganda talk shows painted for their audience a picture of paradoxical diversity. The incoherent din of propaganda can be divided into two opposing camps: loyalists and “hawks” — radically different groups that openly despise one another. In their reactions to the events in Kursk, these factions clashed with astonishing ferocity. The loyalists are protectors, who value authority über alles, while the “hawks” are radical militarists. For example, former State Duma MP Natalia Narochnitskaya, who advocates for conducting carpet bombing in the Kursk Region, represents the “hawks,” whereas television host Vladimir Solovyov, at least among certain circles, is understood to embody the loyalist camp.

These groups harbor far more animosity toward one another than they do toward all liberals and “foreign agents” combined. The radical militarists have another target of disdain: the “wrong people” — passive, cowardly individuals preoccupied with consumption and their personal lives, who are neither willing to fight nor prepared to do so unless motivated by money.

The mass exodus of Russian residents from the Kursk Region has incited outrage in these circles. In their worldview, every rural citizen should transform their home into a fortress, unearth an imaginary Berdan rifle — or, at the very least, arm themselves with pitchforks — and ultimately be willing to sacrifice themselves in order to stop the invaders. They believe this is how it was during the Great Patriotic War — an understanding shaped by vague notions derived from Soviet films and children's theater. When reality fails to align with this narrative, militarists are left both astonished and indignant.

What surveys do and do not reveal

What do the citizens themselves think about what is happening? Before discussing the reaction of “ordinary Russians,” we must return to the eternal question: how can one discern and assess the trajectory of public opinion under conditions of war, repression, and censorship?

In the realm of social knowledge, there is a point of view that terms like “society” and “public opinion” can be misleading, as they create the illusion of a unified social body with a single opinion. A number of colleagues argue that such a unity does not exist; instead, there are distinct interest groups residing in their own bubbles, each with different values, priorities, and sources of information.

On almost none of the significant social issues do we observe either a stable “majority” or polarization (i.e., a division of respondents into two equally sized groups), which is characteristic of American society, for example. Instead, we tend to find “cloud” groups, united not by a specific opinion, but rather by a prevailing perception of what is socially approved or disapproved. This reflection of perceptions is what we gather from opinion polls.

One of the flaws in such research is its inability to account for people who refuse to respond. Not only in Russia are potential respondents reluctant to participate in surveys. Among American colleagues, a 20% response rate is considered a respectable outcome. In Russia, however, this rate dropped below 10% with the onset of the war. Although it has since begun to rise, it rarely exceeds 15-16%.

Sociological agencies rarely disclose their response rates. Of those I know, only Russian Field regularly publishes its refusal rates. In May and June, this organization conducted its 15th wave of surveys on the “special military operation,” achieving a response rate of 16.5%, and, at times, up to 18%. (Conversely, the top officials of the Levada Center believe that the refusal rate has not increased since the beginning of the war, and they do not consider the resulting bias toward loyalists in the sample — the “spiral of silence effect” — to be significant.)

Following the onset of the events in Kursk, many observed a decline in the presidential approval rating reported by the All-Russian Public Opinion Research Center (VTsIOM) — a state-owned pollster. This rating is based on a closed list (meaning respondents are asked to indicate the name of the person they trust).

While a drop from a sustained trust level “above 80” down to the 75-77% range may seem refreshing, it hardly qualifies as a “catastrophic decline.” Instead, it brings to mind an internet joke: “The national leader's rating has plummeted to 99%.”

Notably, the trust level for Russia’s second-in-command — Prime Minister Mikhail Mishustin — has been much more stable and did not experience erosion during September. The Prime Minister is significant because, lacking personal popularity or even recognition, he serves not as a public political figure but as an impersonal embodiment of the phrase “in charge of things.” Respondents believe that “things” are fundamentally in order under his management.

Concerned but uninterested

More informative insights can be gleaned not from direct political questions but from indirect markers such as media consumption, trends in online search queries, and levels of anxiety. How much news do people consume? What do they search for online using specific key terms? What do they consider to be the most important events of the week and month? In this regard, FOM — another state-run Russian pollster — provides interesting quotes from focus groups, while Levada offers data on events from past polling periods.

It cannot be said that the events in Kursk did not disturb citizens at all, but this concern proved to be fleeting. In early August, 39% of respondents were interested in the attack on the Kursk Region, but during the survey conducted from September 13-15, only 12% expressed interest in the topic, and by September 27-29, that figure had dropped to just 6%. Kursk initially increased attention to the “special military operation” (SMO) as a whole, which consistently remained below 25% in 2024 (18% at the end of August, 22% at the end of September). For comparison’s sake, in the first half of 2022, this figure stood at 60-70%.

In Levada's ranking of events for August, Kursk was in first place with 40%, while the “SMO” (“war,” “Ukraine”) received 12% overall. Data for September has not yet been published.

On Yandex — Russia's homegrown and most popular search engine — queries for the word “Kursk” surged sharply in the first three days of Ukraine’s incursion, only to fall just as quickly, being overtaken by the word “tickets” (August is vacation season). Consumption of television news did not increase during the days of the Kursk operation; in fact, a seasonal decline was observed towards the end of August. However, despite the announced “slowdown” of YouTube during this period, the platform’s Russian language political channels experienced a rise in views and attracted a wider audience.

An interesting aspect is the FOM anxiety ranking, which presents respondents' answers regarding the anxiety of those around them rather than their own feelings, allowing for a more objective assessment of the situation — or the opportunity to speak about oneself without actually doing so.

It is evident that at the beginning of the “events,” anxiety surpassed calmness for the first time in many months. However, by September 8, calmness regained the upper hand. And yet, something continued to trouble people: the situation remained unresolved, and the promised expulsion was not in sight. By the end of September, surveys perceived a slight increase in anxious individuals compared to those who felt calm.

These figures are incomparable to the mobilization period of fall 2022, when anxiety levels approached 70%. For comparison, at the beginning of the war, anxiety levels topped out at 55%, while calmness stood at 39%. The Kursk events marked the first instance since Jun. 11, 2023 that anxiety levels exceeded calmness — meaning neither Prigozhin's march nor his dramatic death had unsettled citizens so much as Ukraine’s incursion did.

Throughout the past year, calm individuals consistently outnumbered the anxious. The two curves began to converge at the end of March 2024 following the terrorist attack at Crocus City Hall: 44% anxious and 49% calm. Thus, the feelings around Kursk turned out to be worse than those caused by Crocus City, but far less dire than what was felt during mobilization.

The Levada Center reports that in August 2024, 46% of Russians feared a mass draft for the war, while 48% did not. In February, 35% expressed fear of mobilization, and 59% did not. This marks the highest level of concern since last September. At the beginning of the war, 66% were confident that there would be no mobilization and that the SMO would be handled by the regular army (as was promised by the president), while only 28% feared mobilization.

The latest data from Levada supports the hypothesis that the increase in anxiety connected with Kursk — amid a low level of interest in the actual events in the region — is primarily a fear of mobilization, rather than a fear of the Kursk or Belgorod regions might be seized by enemy forces.

If the enemy is said to be at the gates, people interpret it unambiguously: mobilization is coming. Thus, the seemingly absurd public rhetoric about CTOs, “provocations,” “situations,” and “border areas” largely aligns with popular sentiment: no mobilization is going to occur for a “CTO” or a “situation.”

This represents the main goal of propaganda. Heightened anxiety, combined with fatigue, could lead to dysfunction not only among those who are to be mobilized, but also among those tasked with the mobilization in the event of any emergency declaration. People may scatter, and the system itself could crack under pressure.

“Just like they said on TV”: The routinization of the abnormal

Tired of the current state of affairs, citizens yearn for normalization — but they are willing to routinize the abnormal in the event that normalcy remains unattainable. This remarkable tendency to suppress and deny unpleasant realities is aided by a phenomenon sociologists call clustering.

In the absence of a national community, people trust only their immediate circles. Surveys indicate that, apart from family and close friends, Russians place the most trust in their professional groups: doctors trust other doctors, government officials trust fellow officials, and military personnel trust their peers.

Information exchange primarily occurs among those with whom one lives and works, resulting in minimal communication between different clusters. Consequently, there is no widespread unity around the events in the Kursk Region — not due to the events themselves, but because society lacks effective channels for sharing information and opinions. This fragmentation is a direct result of living under autocracy.

The complexity of understanding respondents' opinions in conditions of repression and unfreedom should not be reduced to simple explanations like “citizens lie when responding to surveys,” or “sociologists manipulate the results.” Both statements are false. In most cases, citizens do not have, and are not obligated to have, a stable opinion on political issues. Expecting consistent positions from people is as infantile and naive as hoping they will personally “resist the enemy.”

When asked a question, a person may not know the answer, but they may nevertheless feel compelled to respond “correctly.” This impulse arises not only from fear — fear exacerbated by relevant articles in the Russian Criminal Code — but also from a social instinct to present themselves favorably in the eyes of others. Consequently, people often draw upon what they've heard from others on the subject. If a person’s environment lacks opportunities for diverse social interaction and discussion, that person is unlikely to form an independent opinion.

In the situation at hand, a given respondent likely heard the television murmuring in the background during dinner and thus reflects something they picked up from there, believing it to be correct and safe. “What do I think? I think like everyone else. And what does everyone else think? Just like they said on TV.”

This is how propaganda sustains itself: people attempt to replicate a social norm informed solely by what they see on television, as all other avenues and spaces for community either have not developed or have been dismantled.

Before the war, we did not fully realize how impoverished and monopolized our public space is. For such a large country with a population as literate as Russia’s, we have a distressingly small amount of what constitutes a public sphere: free and open universities, television channels, newspapers, talk radio stations, public discussion platforms, theaters, cinemas, bookstores, publishing houses, authors of various genres, commentators, public experts, and literary critics. This is a shocking scarcity that did not arise on its own — it is the result of censorship, state oversight, and police repression.

“I am that which is threatened”: A passive subject

Recent leaks — which are in fact aimed at certain audiences — indicate that “people who regularly meet with the president” report that the attack by the Armed Forces of Ukraine on the Kursk Region has disrupted negotiations that had either already begun or were about to start:

“At the end of summer, it seemed that a resolution to the conflict was possible within six to twelve months... More profound ideas for de-escalation were on the table — for example, not using certain particularly destructive types of weapons and not striking beyond a specific distance from the front line... However, the meeting was derailed by Kyiv's operation in the Kursk Region.”

In these leaks, Russia and its authorities are consistently portrayed as a subject that “has not started anything yet,” one that is striving to wrap things up and is ready for peace. According to the Kremlin’s narrative, each time they come close to a diplomatic solution, the Ukrainian side — previously said to be influenced by foreign orchestrators who disrupted the Istanbul agreements and now seemingly acting out of spite — takes actions that move peace further out of reach, compelling Russia to reluctantly engage in “serious”warfare.

At the next stage, this “serious” warfare may not appear so serious, something akin to, “The Kremlin has concluded: we will destroy the state of Ukraine. It now feels like a no-holds-barred fight, with both sides focused on making things worse for each other.” Of course, it remains unclear what conclusions the Kremlin reached previously, what the powers-that-be were preoccupied with over the past three years, and whether their earlier actions somehow constituted a rule-bound conflict in which both sides sought to improve conditions for one another.

Ontologically, the worldview can be described as follows: the subject of Russia is reduced to the subject of Putin. Although he is the only one with agency, he does not exercise it; he acts only when forced, provoked, or cornered. He feels deceived — “Ukraine used the preparations for the meeting in Qatar as a cover for the operation in Kursk.” If he were acting on his own desires, his actions would differ (what those actions would be is left to the imagination). However, each of his actions aims not to achieve a goal, but to prevent something intended by others (by Kyiv, the “Anglo-Saxons,” or NATO soldiers). When asked, “Who am I?” this subject — this Putin — responds, “I am that which is threatened.”

This delusional mode of existence, with its peculiar mix of absurdity and pragmatism, can explain the “reaction without response” to the events in Kursk, which has perplexed many observers and researchers of the Russian political system. A striking manifestation of this is the parasitic term “borderland,” intended to separate “normal, calm places” from distant regions where “a situation is unfolding.”

Indeed, from a political geography standpoint, authoritarian power prioritizes Moscow and its metropolitan area, along with the regions that provide hydrocarbons — the lifeblood of the system, forming its very substance and strength. The primary objective of authoritarian rule is self-preservation, rendering anything that does not pose a direct threat as secondary.