The Russians, tired of a war that is far away from them

MoscowThe undisguised joy of Vladimir Putin and the Kremlin leaders Since the talks with Donald Trump's United States began contrasts with the skepticism with which Russian society has received the news. On the streets of Moscow there is a mixture of apathy, distrust and, above all, exhaustion after three years of a war that, although for the majority of citizens it has not been a real threat, has disrupted their lives in one way or another.

In the suburbs of the capital, where the huge blocks of flats are located, cheloveinik(anthills of people), retirees spend their hours doing political informationThis is what the political indoctrination sessions of the Soviet regime were called, and this is what they have ironically named their morning gatherings. The general consensus among them is that the war must end and that it must end with a Russian victory.But at this point, they are struggling to agree on what it means to win. There is no hatred towards the Ukrainians in their words, nor sympathy, but rather condescension and suspicion, as if it were their capricious neighbours who dreamed of becoming Europeans who had dragged them into the conflict.

Of the patriotic fervour of the first weeks of the war, little remains. The painted mushrooms on the walls have almost completely disappeared. One of those that resists is the one that the Kremlin had installed at none other than the doors of the United States embassy at the end of 2023. They are three giant white letters, ZVO, the acronym forZa pobedu, sila V pravde, Otvajnie(For victory, strength is in truth, brave ones). Although they are seen less and less, last Wednesday the Duma approved a law that punishes with up to five years in prison anyone who destroys symbols related to the "special military operation in Ukraine." A law that adds to the harsh legislation against any citizen who dares to question the army or opposes the war.

Another reminder that Russia is a country at war is The posters for voluntary recruitment of soldiers that fill bus shelters, road signs, ATMs or subway cars. At the nearest stop of Moscow's main recruitment centre, a recording announces that those who decide to go to fight at the front will receive a higher salary, and the voice that resonates perversely merges with the metro's loudspeakers. In front of the recruitment point, a volunteer who prefers to remain anonymous explains that he wants to enlist because this is a fight between good and evil. Shortly afterwards, and abruptly, a soldier leaves the centre, forces us to interrupt the conversation and prevents him from continuing to speak.

Fear of talking to foreigners

Fear of talking to foreigners, especially journalists, is widespread in Russia. And even more so if these journalists come from countries considered "unfriendly," according to the Kremlin's terminology. On the one hand, because there have already been disproportionate and untimely condemnations for making statements in Western media and, on the other hand, by the success of propaganda, which presents Europeans and Americans as hostile, to the point that some Russians reproach their compatriots for expressing themselves in a foreign language when dealing with newcomers.

The European tourist, almost flattered before the war, is now marginal. The hotels and monuments in the centre of the capital are mainly visited by Arabs, Asians and Russians, encouraged to move within the borders of the federation by the difficulties of going on holiday outside the country. This is another example of how the Russian government's international relations have changed. Muscovites do not remember such a lavish celebration of the Chinese New Year as the This year, the streets of the city centre are decorated with oriental elements; there are around thirty stalls selling Asian food on Revolution Square, and in the souvenir shops on the popular Arbat Street, life-size figures of Putin and Xi Jinping greet shoppers, who are photographed like stars.

Inside the establishments, amongusacas (replicas of Red Army relics) and the thousand and one objects dedicated to the Russian president, the new multipolar world order that Putin dreams of is symbolically displayed: lined up are the nesting dolls of the Chinese president; of the Turkish president, Recep Tayyip Erdogan; of Saudi King Salman and Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman; and of the Emir of Qatar, Tamim bin Hamad al-Thani. And, in the middle, hastily rescued from storage, a nesting doll with two protagonists: Vladimir Putin and Donald Trump, most likely produced during the US president's first term.

Over the past three years, the political gap between Russia and the United States, which now seems to be beginning to shrink, has not erased the trace of more than 30 years of importing the consumer model. Yankee. Major Western multinationals were quick (some more than others) to leave large Russian cities after the invasion of Ukraine began, but this has not translated into a Russification of consumption patterns. For example, McDonald's sold its entire business to a businessman who already had a franchise of the company in Siberia. And what did he do? Did he start serving beetroot soup and pelmeni, the typical Russian stuffed pasta? Nope. Once he had solved the supply problems, he kept the same suppliers and the same products from the fast food giant. The only change was the name: it is now calledVkusno and brick(good, period) and remains full of Russian clientele. Even less subtle were Starbucks' Russian buyers, who redesigned the brand image of thenewcoffee chain, Coffee Stars, with a logo so similar to the original that it is difficult to distinguish them.

In recent weeks, after the beginning of a thaw with the United States, media close to the Kremlin have been publishing news which pointed to the possible return of Western companies to Russia. However, for now these are only rumours, and in some cases they are self-serving information. In fact, both one of the negotiators in Riyadh, and the head of the Russian sovereign fund, Kirill Dmitriev, and the deputy prime minister, Aleksandr Novak, have already warned, with the arrogance of someone who believes he has the upper hand again, that the niche left by Western companies "has been filled by manufacturers."

A distant front

Russian leaders celebrate the end of the lockdown as a victory, while citizens struggle to make ends meet with soaring inflation and rather meager salaries and pensions (in the chat rooms of the suburbs, none of the pensioners earns more than the equivalent of 300 euros a month). Moscow is a perfectly functional city, far from the image one might have of the capital of a pariah state. In supermarkets there is everything (at prices not suitable for everyone), The cinemas and shopping centres are full, and people are out partying on the weekend.

War is a dying concern, a nuisance that slightly complicates the daily life of a society that has given up the right to political participation in the broadest sense in exchange for a mirage of security. For many, the more than 95,000 dead Russian soldiers identified in Ukraine remain a distant memory, which could be as many as 211,000, according to calculations by the BBC and the independent media outlet Mediazona.

Everyone seems to have forgotten that there have been two attacks against Russian soldiers in Moscow in two months or that Ukrainian drones have hit the financial district. Whether out of survival instinct or because they have accepted the official line, many Russians are optimistic, which may sound naïve and unfounded. One of the residents interviewed sums it up like this: "The problems are being solved and, if you keep your head on your shoulders, everything will be solved."