The Russian doctrine of cognitive warfare is a worldview that began to take shape already in the early decades of the Cold War, when the Soviet leadership recognized that the West possessed economic, technological, and naval superiority. The Soviet Union therefore developed a concept of total confrontation in which the real battlefield lay inside rival societies: in public consciousness, trust in institutions, social cohesion, and internal power relations.

 

Within this framework, the KGB was conceived as a strategic instrument for shaping political reality. “Active measures”—disinformation, cultivation of protest movements, infiltration of civil organizations, dissemination of false narratives, and the deployment of agents of influence—were designed to undermine the internal stability of Western states and erode their confidence in themselves. For Soviet theorists, success was not measured by territorial conquest but by the ability to cause the adversary to doubt the legitimacy of its own path and to act against its own interests.

 

In the Russian narrative that has developed since the 1990s, the West did not win through fair competition but imposed a cognitive defeat on Russia. NATO’s eastward expansion, the dismantling of the Soviet sphere of influence, and the economic reforms imposed on Russia during the Yeltsin era are portrayed as proof that the West exploited Moscow’s weakness in order to push it away from great-power status. Claims regarding broken promises not to expand NATO fostered a sense of collective humiliation, perceived as an ongoing strategic threat.

 

Vladimir Putin, who emerged from the Soviet security apparatus, adopted and institutionalized this narrative into a coherent policy. Every domain—political, economic, social, cognitive, and technological—is considered a legitimate battlefield, and the open use of military force is merely the tip of the iceberg.

 

At the heart of this doctrine lies cognitive warfare. Russia identified early on the structural vulnerabilities of Western democracies in the digital age. A multiplicity of information channels, broad freedom of expression, dependence on social networks, and polarized politics created an environment in which it is difficult to distinguish between truth and falsehood, and between legitimate criticism and foreign influence.


Russian cyberattacks on government institutions, parliaments, and political parties in the West were often accompanied by staged leaks of information—some genuine, some distorted. Their purpose was not necessarily to change immediate political outcomes, but to undermine public trust in the democratic process itself. Interference in the 2016 U.S. elections, attacks on the German Bundestag, and leaks surrounding elections in France and other countries illustrated how the combination of technological intrusion and synchronized narratives can damage the legitimacy of governing institutions.

 

Fake news became a central auxiliary tool. Unlike classical propaganda, which seeks to persuade, Russian disinformation aims to overwhelm. A proliferation of versions, contradictions, and false information creates a situation in which the public struggles to believe any information at all. As trust erodes, the capacity for rational public debate is impaired, and politics becomes emotional, polarized, and unstable.

 

Alongside cognition and cyber operations, energy assumed a central place in Russian doctrine. Gas and oil reserves were not merely sources of revenue but instruments of pressure and influence. By creating deep energy dependence among European states—particularly Germany, Italy, and Eastern European countries—Russia was able to influence domestic political calculations and soften Western responses to aggressive actions. Projects such as Nord Stream 1 and 2 were explicitly geopolitical moves designed to fragment the European Union, bypass rival states, and create bilateral dependency relationships with key powers.

 

Fear of an energy crisis influenced public opinion, political discourse, and governments’ willingness to take harsh measures against Moscow. Even after the invasion of Ukraine, the energy question continued to shape the limits of Western responses, illustrating how deeply this tool had become embedded in Russian strategy.

 

The Middle East allows Moscow to influence the West indirectly without entering into direct confrontation with the United States or NATO. Since the mid-2010s, Russia has operated in the region as a power that exploits existing conflicts and aligns with actors hostile to the American-led order.

 

The turning point was the military intervention in Syria in September 2015. Moscow presented itself as a power willing to apply decisive military force, in contrast to Western hesitancy, and established permanent presences at the Hmeimim and Tartus bases. Beyond this, the intervention showcased a model of action: support for existing regimes, even if internationally isolated, in exchange for long-term influence. The Syrian campaign rehabilitated Russia’s image as a military power.

 

The alliance with Iran constitutes a central axis of this policy. Despite historical and ideological differences, Russia and Iran found common cause in curbing American influence and undermining the existing regional order. Cooperation in Syria, exchanges of military know-how, and the deepening of ties in missiles, drones, and intelligence strengthened both states’ ability to act against Western interests.

 

Terror organizations and militias are viewed as strategic tools that can be leveraged. Hamas, for example, has over the years received a degree of diplomatic legitimacy from Moscow, which has insisted on distinguishing between “resistance” and terrorism. Hosting Hamas delegations in Moscow—even after severe attacks on civilians—served a dual purpose: strengthening the organization’s status as a legitimate political actor and presenting Russia as an indispensable mediator. This created a gap between Western positions and the Russian message, deepening divisions within the international community.

 

Hamas’s October 7, 2023 attack provided Russia with a broad strategic opportunity. In the cognitive arena, a sharp rise was observed in the activity of pro-Russian influence networks that echoed anti-Israeli and anti-Western messages, including the dissemination of disinformation, digital forgeries, and the amplification of narratives of war crimes—sometimes using distorted or de-contextualized materials. The goal of this activity was to deepen the rift between Western governments and their publics, stimulate protests, and complicate the formation of a unified policy line.

 

Latin America is viewed by the Kremlin as a region of unique strategic value because of its symbolic and geopolitical potential. It is perceived as the “backyard” of the United States, and from Moscow’s perspective, an active presence there challenges the image of the United States as an irreplaceable power and undermines its standing.

 

Russian strategy in the region rests on an anti-colonial and anti-imperialist narrative that resonates strongly with the history of U.S. intervention in many countries’ internal affairs. Russia presents itself as an external power that does not impose a political or economic model but respects sovereignty. This message resonates particularly in countries with collective memories of dictatorships, coups, and foreign intervention.

 

Venezuela is the clearest example of this strategy in practice. Since the rise of Hugo Chávez and later Nicolás Maduro, the country has become a strategic partner of Russia. Moscow supplied Venezuela with weapons, military advice, and diplomatic support, and in return gained political and economic footholds in a sensitive region. When the United States attempted in 2019 to undermine Maduro’s rule by recognizing Juan Guaidó as the legitimate president, Russia responded swiftly. Military advisers were sent to Caracas, Russian Spanish-language propaganda portrayed the American move as a colonial coup, and the Kremlin made clear that it would not allow a forced regime change. Beyond Venezuela itself, the message was aimed at the rest of the region: Russia is willing to defend its allies against Western pressure.

 

Nicaragua and Cuba play similar roles, though on a smaller scale. In Nicaragua, Daniel Ortega’s regime benefits from Russian security and intelligence support, including the presence of Russian experts in cyber and internal security. In Cuba, historical cooperation from the Soviet era has taken on new forms, especially in cognitive and intelligence arenas. In all these cases, Moscow exploits existing tensions between local regimes and the United States in order to reinforce the narrative of a global struggle against American hegemony.

 

Alongside security assistance, Russia operates an extensive cognitive apparatus in Latin America. RT and Sputnik Spanish-language channels reach broad audiences and consistently present world events through an anti-Western prism. The war in Ukraine, for example, is portrayed as a conflict caused by NATO expansion rather than Russian aggression. These messages reinforce skepticism toward American and European positions.

 

Africa has become over the past decade one of the most important arenas in Russian strategy, due to a unique combination of institutional weakness, great-power competition, and abundance of natural resources. From Moscow’s perspective, the continent offers an opportunity to expand influence at relatively low cost, exploiting a vacuum created by the gradual withdrawal of Western states—especially France—from certain areas.

 

Russia’s main operational tool in Africa has been a combination of security assistance and cognitive warfare. The Wagner Group, active in countries such as the Central African Republic, Mali, and Libya, provided security services, training, and advice to local regimes struggling with insurgents or internal instability. In return, Moscow gained access to natural resources—including gold, diamonds, and rare metals—and the ability to influence these states’ foreign policies.

 

Military activity was accompanied by broad cognitive campaigns. On social media and in local media, Western states—particularly France—were portrayed as neo-colonial powers that had exploited Africa for decades without bringing stability or development. Russia, by contrast, was presented as a partner that respects sovereignty and does not interfere in internal affairs. These messages resonated among frustrated populations, even when conditions on the ground did not improve.

 

In Mali, for example, the withdrawal of French forces was accompanied by an increase in Russian presence and a tightening of ties with Moscow. The change did not bring stability but contributed to deepening the rift between Mali and the West. In the Central African Republic, Wagner’s presence made Russia a central actor in the country’s security, exerting direct influence over the local political system.

 

Moscow makes a point of cultivating ties with local elites, offering scholarships, training, and cooperation, and recruiting political support in the international arena. The voting patterns of African states at the UN on issues related to Ukraine and Russia often reflect the success of this effort.

 

Parallel to all of this, another arena is developing—quiet but critical—in the Arctic. Climate change has opened new shipping routes and exposed vast energy and natural resource reserves. Russia, which possesses the world’s longest Arctic coastline, has since the mid-2010s worked to entrench a deep foothold in the region. It has restored Cold War–era military bases, deployed air-defense and electronic warfare systems, and invested in the world’s largest icebreaker fleet. At the same time, Moscow operates on the cognitive and diplomatic planes to present the Arctic as a space in which it has unique historical rights, while challenging NATO states’ attempts to expand their presence there.

 

This is not a frontal confrontation, but rather the creation of a reality in which Russian presence is perceived as a fait accompli, while Western responses are delayed due to internal disagreements, environmental considerations, and legal ambiguity. Here too, the achievement is not immediate conquest but the gradual erosion of resistance.

 

Finally, the use of migration as a pressure tool must be noted. The border crisis between Belarus and the European Union in 2021–2022 demonstrated how migration flows can be exploited to undermine political stability and generate internal tensions. Here too, Russia acted indirectly while maintaining plausible deniability, yet the strategic benefit was clear.

 

In modern Russian doctrine, migration is seen as a particularly effective strategic tool because it simultaneously damages several vital components of Western states: border control, political stability, public trust in institutions, and social cohesion. Unlike overt military or economic pressure, the use of migration allows Moscow to achieve tangible results while preserving high levels of deniability and ostensibly shifting responsibility onto the target states themselves.