How World War II Memory Politics are Shaping the Russo-Ukrainian War

Ukrainian Soldiers in Eastern Ukraine. August 13, 2014. Photo by: Volodymyr Vovkogon. No changes made. View license here.

By David Chobotov

Abstract

Memory of World War II has played and continues to play an important role in how Russia and Ukraine shape their national identities. In Ukraine’s efforts to distance itself from Russia’s sphere of influence, Russia has increasingly contextualized its conflictwith Ukraine through a historical lens, with a particular focus on WWII. This essay sets out to examine the role of differing WWII memory politics in shaping ongoing conflict between the two countries. It explores (a) the evolution and divergence of WWII memory in Russia and Ukraine; (b) the instrumentalization of historical memory by political leadership; and (c) the role of competing narratives in fueling ongoing war. By applying Margaret Somers’ and Gloria Gibson’s definition of narratives – as relational to other narratives, as causally emploted, selectively appropriated, and temporal – this essay demonstrates that the divergent memories of WWII are not just reflections of past events but are active instruments shaping the present conflict. This essay argues that Russia’s invocation of the “Great Patriotic War” operates as a performative tool to galvanize domestic support, to delegitimize Ukrainian sovereignty, and to frame its military actions as an extension of the Soviet Union’s struggle against fascism. This narrative underscores themes of Soviet-era heroism, unity, and victory, which contrast sharply with Ukraine’s interpretation of WWII. Since the annexation of Crimea in 2014, and especially following the full-scale invasion in 2022, Ukraine has increasingly emphasized its historical resistance to external domination, framing its independence movement within a broader historical context. This divergence reveals an acute ideological incompatibility: While Russia uses WWII memory to assert dominance and continuity, Ukraine leverages it to construct a distinct national identity aligned with Western democratic values.

Keywords: World War II, Russo-Ukraine War, Memory Politics, Narratives, Identity

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The memory of World War II plays an important role in Russia and Ukrainian national identity formation. Since Russia annexed Crimea in 2014, it has increasingly framed its conflict with Ukraine through a historical lens, invoking WWII references to justify its aggression. This trend subsided following the annexation, but then intensified with the full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022; “Nazi Ukraine,” ^[1] a “Russian territory” under the dictatorship of President Vladimir Zelensky, a drug-addicted dictator,^[2] are statements commonplace in both Russian media and political rhetoric. While such claims are invariably false, they allow President Vladimir Putin to frame the war as a continuation of Russia’s struggle against Nazism, to rally domestic support for military action, and to position himself as the dutiful saviour to the Ukrainian people’s purported fascist oppressors.^[3] Meanwhile, Ukraine has actively reassessed its historical narrative of WWII since 2014, seeking to distance itself from Russian interpretations. While Russia’s historical positive narrative of WWII stresses Russo-Ukrainian unity, Ukraine’s perspective on WWII reflects a growing focus on its historical struggle for independence.

In this essay, I pose the question: How have differing WWII memory politics in Ukraine and Russia informed the ongoing conflict? To answer this question, I draw on historians Paul D’Anieri, Marc Edele, Jade McGlynn, Maria Popova, Oxana Shevel, Andrew Wilson, and Elizabeth Wood, to explore (a) the evolution and divergence of WWII memory in Russia and Ukraine, (b) the instrumentalization of historical memory by political leadership, and (c) the role of competing narratives in fueling the Russo-Ukraine war. By employing Margaret Somers and Gloria Gibson’s definition of ‘narratives’ in my analysis of these three themes, I marshal the argument that (1) Russia’s invocation of the “Great Patriotic War” (GPW) serves as a tool for mobilising public support for its so-called “special military operation,” showcasing a unique manipulation of performative collective memory; (2) that Russia’s remembrance of WWII seeks to delegitimize Ukrainian sovereignty; and (3) that Ukraine’s interpretation of WWII seeks to affirm the historical roots of its independence movement.

Somers’ and Gibson’s Definition of Narratives

Before diving into this discussion, it is important to establish an operational definition of “narratives.” In this essay, I will be drawing on Somers and Gibson’s argument that ‘narratives’ are constructed and driven by four key components: (1) relationality of parts, (2) causal emplotment, (3) selective appropriation, and (4) temporality.^[4] This definition emphasizes how narratives are relational, meaning they derive meaning from their connections to other narratives, making the definition particularly relevant when analyzing the intertwined historical accounts of WWII. Causal emplotment highlights how events are organized into coherent stories, which is critical for understanding how both Ukraine and Russia frame WWII to serve their respective political agendas. Selective appropriation underscores the deliberate inclusion or exclusion of events, shedding light on how historical memory is manipulated to reinforce nationalism or delegitimize opponents. Finally, the emphasis on temporality recognizes the dynamic nature of narratives over time, enabling this essay to trace how interpretations of WWII have evolved in Russia and Ukraine. Together, these features provide a robust analytic lens for unpacking how the two countries’ contested historical narratives of WWII contribute to the ongoing conflict.

The Evolution of WWII Memory in Russia and Ukraine Before 2014

To understand how WWII memory politics have shaped the ongoing Russo-Ukraine conflict, it is essential to examine the evolution of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics’ (USSR) WWII narrative, and the subsequent divergence in memory between Russia and Ukraine that followed Soviet disintegration. According to Edele, the narrative under Stalin’s leadership went as follows: The united Soviet people defeated Hitler and his army of fascist invaders who posed an existential threat to the Soviet Union and its people.^[5] Stalin’s messaging depicted the USSR as both victim and victor; it was attacked by Europe’s most brutal dictator, it was threatened with genocidal policies, and under Stalin’s leadership, it played a catalytic role as a liberator in the anti-Nazi coalition.^[6] General Secretary Nikita Khrushchev denounced his predecessor as a dictator, deeming his “cult of personality” inconsistent with communist and Party ideology.^[7], [8] The Soviet narrative of WWII shifted to emphasize the Communist Party’s leadership in the war, portraying Soviet success despite, rather than because of Stalin. New emphasis was placed on cultivating the “Great Patriotic War of the Soviet People” narrative.^[9] Under Leonid Brezhnev, however, Stalin was rehabilitated as a competent leader and manager of the war effort.^[10] Finally, under Mikhail Gorbachev came Glasnost and Perestroika; the breakdown of the Soviet Union went hand in hand with a breakdown of its history.^[11] Stalin’s invasion of Poland in 1939, in which he exercised his ostensible “rights” under the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, was brought under public scrutiny for the first time, as was the “start” to the GPW in 1941 – both were remembered as a catastrophe rather than moments of glory.^[12] For the first time, public debates emerged on wartime repression, executions, blocking detachments, and penal battalions.^[13] Public discourse also explored anti-Bolshevik sentiments, the controversial conduct of Soviet troops, the mass surrenders, and the initial positive reception of Nazi troops in certain Soviet territories.

Despite Ukraine’s independence and the emergence of new Russian perspectives on WWII in the wake of Perestroika, the Kremlin remained committed to the narrative of Russo-Ukrainian “Slavic Unity.”^[14] In the volatile early post-Soviet landscape, Russia sought to maintain influence over Ukraine by shaping its relationship with Kyiv in ways that aligned with its broader vision for the Commonwealth of Independent States (CIS) and its own leadership within it. Considering itself the rightful successor to the USSR, the Kremlin thought itself the rightful leader of the CIS – the big “older brother.”^[15] At a minimum, Russia had envisioned the CIS to facilitate integrated structures within CIS states, including Ukraine; at a maximum, it viewed the CIS as the foundation to a new union in which it would assume a leading role.^[16] As such, maintaining pressure on Kyiv was central to Moscow’s strategy of repressing Ukraine’s independence at this critical stage of post-Soviet identity formation. Russia aimed to:

keep the Ukrainian problem within a definite framework, not allow it to get out of control, and maintain the basic elements of cooperation and friendly relations between the two peoples through a combination of policies of reconciliation, pressure, and wide-ranging use of international instruments, waiting until Kyiv outgrows its most acute period of striving for self-assertiveness.^[17]

This strategy continued the Soviet tradition of maintaining Ukraine under Russia’s control; it also set out to ensure that Ukraine would maintain a similar outlook on history to Russia, which was key for Russia to uphold its shared identity narrative. Astrid Erll points out that a “central function of remembering the past within the framework of collective memory is identity formation.” [18], [19]. As such, retaining a shared memory with Ukraine in the Soviet transition was integral for Russia to preserve the identity paradigm of “Slavic Unity.”

Ukrainian memory of WWII mirrored, in many respects, that of Russia’s during the Soviet period and up until Crimea’s annexation. Ukrainians celebrated Victory Day (on May 9), the Soviet holiday established under Brezhnev, and the Soviet-era framing of WWII as the “Great Patriotic War” – emphasizing the Soviet Union’s role as the primary victor over Nazi Germany, the collective sacrifices of its people, and the glorification of the Red Army — was also prevalent.^[20] Like in Russia, however, the aftermath of Perestroika came with a similar effort to incorporate a more nuanced view of WWII into the Ukrainian national narrative. This included recognising the experiences of diverse groups, such as victims of Soviet and Nazi atrocities, and revisiting the roles of nationalist groups and fighters.^[21] In this remembrance, key differences in memory came to the fore. Many Ukrainians were painfully aware of the darker aspects of Soviet inter-war, wartime, and post-war policies, and for some, particularly in western Ukraine, this memory was still fresh.^[22] Many remembered the Red Army not as liberators but as occupiers and had hoped Hitler would recognize Ukraine as an independent state. For this reason, the Organisation of Ukrainian Nationalists (OUN) and the Ukrainian Insurgent Army (UPA) occupy a central, albeit contentious, place in Ukrainian WWII memory.

The war was devastating for Ukraine, as Nazi Germany’s Operation Barbarossa turned Ukraine into a major battleground. While some initially viewed the German invasion as liberation from Soviet oppression,^[23] Nazi brutality quickly shattered those hopes. Nazi Lebensraum policies led to mass exploitation and atrocities, best exemplified by the Babyn Yar massacre near Kyiv. The OUN, led by figures like Stepan Bandera, initially collaborated with Nazi Germany, seeing it as a potential ally against Soviet control.^[24] However, when it became clear that Germany had no interest in supporting Ukrainian independence, the OUN and UPA turned against both Nazi and Soviet forces, waging a guerrilla war on multiple fronts.^[25] Despite the violence these groups perpetrated in support of Nazi objectives, these groups came to symbolize the resistance and the enduring struggle for national sovereignty. Stepan Bandera, for instance, became regarded as a hero, rather than a terrorist. This reinterpretation took on legal and symbolic significance during Viktor Yushchenko’s presidency (2005–2010), as he sought to officially recognize these groups as fighters for Ukrainian independence. However, this framing only became widely accepted after the Euromaidan revolution. By contrast, Russia continued to portray Bandera and the OUN-UPA as Nazi collaborators. These differences in memory were a stark departure from Russia’s preferred readings of WWII history. Saying that this made Russia broadly upset would be an understatement, as this departure from shared memory directly impacted the Russo-Ukrainian “Slavic Unity” paradigm the Russian state had been trying to cultivate since Perestroika.

How Russian and Ukrainian Memory of WWII Changed

The Russian annexation of Crimea marked a decisive shift in how Russia and Ukraine remembered WWII, turning their once-shared narrative into a battleground for competing historical interpretations. In the leadup to this escalatory challenge to Ukrainian sovereignty, Ukrainians took to the streets of Kyiv to protest then President Yanukovych’s decision to not sign a political association and free trade agreement with the European Union (EU) in favor of closer alignment with Russia. What became known as Euromaidan, or Ukraine’s “Revolution of Dignity,” was not representative of the entirety of the Ukrainian people’s sentiment towards Russia,^[26] yet it made Putin realize that Ukraine was slipping from Russia’s sphere of influence. It is important to note here that Russia never got over the “divorce syndrome” of Ukraine’s independence following Soviet disintegration; unlike other former soviet states, Russia viewed Ukraine’s separation as a tragedy.^[27] The CIS, which was seen as the only way to “block and prevent the complete severance from Russia and Ukraine,”^[28] had failed, as had Russia’s efforts to cultivate “Slavic Unity” through shared memory – a failure made especially clear by the Revolution of Dignity, which underscored Ukraine’s rejection of Russian influence. Putin’s administration faced a choice: Either accept the conclusions of Euromaidan and learn to live with a truly independent Ukraine state, with the sovereign right to its own policies corresponding to its own interests; or accept Ukraine’s bid for independence as a historical misunderstanding or temporary accident, that the only way to bring Kyiv back into Moscow’s sphere of influence was by pursuing forceful measures.^[29] Putin opted for the latter, responding to the Euromaidan demonstrations and the administration change that followed with the annexation of Crimea.

Putin coupled the annexation with a carefully crafted, multi-layered public relations campaign. D’Anieri notes that this campaign unfolded through four interconnected steps.^[30] First, a disinformation campaign aimed to deny the involvement of Russian forces in Crimea and eastern Ukraine.^[31] Though Russia’s responsibility was painfully obvious to Ukraine and the international community alike, disinformation tactics obscured Russia’s role in the conflict. Russia claimed no initial responsibility over the ‘zelyonye chelovechki’ (or ‘little green men’) in unmarked uniforms. Second, a campaign to delegitimize the post-Maidan government in Kyiv by exaggerating the influence of ‘fascists’ in Ukraine’s new administration.^[32] This tied Ukraine’s contemporary politics to WWII, framing the conflict, for the first time, as a continuation of the Soviet struggle against Nazism. The invocation of WWII served Putin in many ways beyond justifying military action. This laid a foundation to the third step in his information campaign, which he amplified through state-controlled media: An effort to push a nationalist narrative portraying Crimea and Eastern Ukraine as historically and rightfully Russian.^[33] This was (naturally) followed by accusations of “Western hypocrisy” to deflect criticism and rationalize breaches of international law. For example, a specific comparison was drawn between the annexation of Crimea to the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation’s (NATO) support for Kosovo’s independence.^[34] This four-pronged information campaign presented internal enemies, the Ukraine nationalists as Nazi collaborators, and external enemies, NATO, the United States, and the EU as shadowy forces that endorsed Ukraine’s fascist movement.

As discussed in part three of this essay, strong feelings towards WWII existed in Russia long before Putin weaponized them to justify “military intervention” in Ukraine. Victory Day continues to enjoy widespread popularity in Russia, and grassroots initiatives to commemorate the war continue to emerge organically “from below” before eventually receiving state support.^[35] In many ways, Putin’s invocation of WWII leverages pre-existing sentiments rather than constructs them. However, it is important to note that Putin’s passing of the 2014 Law Against Rehabilitation of Nazism, or Federal Law no. 128-FZ: On Amendments to Certain Legislative Acts of the Russian Federation^[36] marks a decisive shift in how the country views its history,^[37] criminalizing dissenting views on the Soviet past and shielding the state’s portrayal of Ukraine as Nazi from public scrutiny. To those unfamiliar with Ukraine’s historic struggle for independence, the signing of this memory law, much like the annexation of Crimea, appears to be an ad hoc response of a government increasingly feeling threatened by both internal and external enemies. The law shows, however, that history has become a key ideological battleground in Putin’s “preventive counterrevolution.”^[38] While critical historians within Russia have long advocated for a nuanced and self-critical historical consciousness to foster democratization,^[39] the memory law leaves Putin unchallenged in his capacity to champion a triumphalist and monolithic narrative of WWII, one that reinforces his conception of “sovereign democracy” as the unofficial state ideology.

Putin’s invocation of WWII, and his method of invocation, in the Russo-Ukraine conflict serves multiple functions. Chief among them is the use of a “victory over Nazism” sentiment as a tool to rally domestic support for military action. Jade McGlynn rightly points out that Russian state media’s use of historical framing significantly decreased following Crimea’s annexation, but that the decrease was accompanied by a heightened focus on victory and cultural consciousness facilitated through Victory Day celebrations.^[40] This effectively functioned as a “happy ending” to the annexation, conveying a sense of achievement and highlighting Putin’s obsession with pushing a “Russian victory” narrative. Andrew Wilson neatly describes the phenomenon as ‘pobedobesie’, or ‘victory madness’.^[41] The narrative of victory achieved through the suffering of the Soviet people was a cornerstone of Soviet leadership that Putin has since revived. Victory is the Soviet “eternal narrative”,^[42] if you will, because like the Soviet Union, Russia has constructed eternal enemies. Russian historians and political figures like Vladimir Medinsky helped in retooling the Soviet narrative of Nazism: the Nazis tried to destroy the Soviet Union; therefore, Nazism was everything anti-Soviet, and now it is everything anti-Russian.^[43] This effectively puts Ukraine at the centre of the “anti-Russia” project.^[44] Russian anthropologist Serguei Oushakine importantly describes this portrayal of Russian wartime suffering as “a performative rather than a descriptive device,” functioning as “a tool with which to stir the memory of our feelings.”^[45] This rhetorical strategy not only reinforces collective identity but also underscores the continuity between Soviet and modern Russian uses of historical memory to legitimize state power. This ethos has become central to Russia’s portrayal of itself as a besieged yet righteous power, further bolstering Putin’s image as a strong paternal leader reminiscent of Stalin.^[46] The narrative also appeals to Soviet nostalgia, a potent force in Russian society. The Levada Center published a poll in 2020 suggesting that up to 75% of Russians view the Soviet Union as the pinnacle of their country’s history.^[47] Of course, it is not clear how this figure was arrived at, but projecting this sentiment allows Putin to portray his regime as a continuation of Soviet-era strength, stability, and ‘victory’.

How differing WWII Memory has Contributed to the Ongoing Conflict

Somers and Gibson’s definition of narratives – as relational to other narratives, as causally emploted, selectively appropriated, and temporal – helps answer the central question this essay poses, namely: How have differing WWII memory politics in Ukraine and Russia contributed to ongoing conflict? The relational and causal components of Somers and Gibson’s definition of narratives highlight how meanings of historical events emerge through interconnections. Russian historical memory since 2014 has been grounded in its portrayal of the Great Patriotic War, clashing with Ukrainian narratives emphasising national resistance and independence. Moscow’s official stance frames WWII as a unifying struggle that legitimized Soviet authority over its territories, including Ukraine. Conversely, Ukraine contests this by presenting narratives of the OUN and the UPA as part of a broader anti-Soviet resistance. Meanwhile, Russian political rhetoric and media persist in portraying these groups as Nazi collaborators. In response to such narratives and to further distance Ukraine from Soviet legacies, President Volodymyr Zelenskyy introduced legislation in May 2023, replacing the Soviet-style Victory Day celebrations with May 8 as the Day of Remembrance and Victory over Nazism.^[48] This move aligned Ukraine’s historical memory with European practices and reclaimed WWII as a cornerstone of Ukraine’s national story, rather than a fragment of a shared Soviet legacy. At the same time, Ukraine’s official stance on the OUN-UPA, and its commemoration of WWII directly fuels Russia’s propaganda narrative that frames Ukraine as a failed state ruled by ‘fascists’. The relational nature of these narratives underscores their mutual exclusivity: Russian glorification of Soviet heroism inherently denies Ukrainian claims of independence efforts during this era. This antagonistic dynamic reveals how these narratives are both causal and relational, and how they serve as tools for shaping historical and political identity.

Selective appropriation involves the deliberate inclusion or omission of historical events to construct favorable narratives, a strategy evident in both Russia and Ukraine’s WWII histories. Vladimir Putin’s historical positivism emphasizes Soviet heroism and “Slavic Unity” while reframing inconvenient truths, such as the Soviet-Nazi pact or wartime repression. This approach reinforces Russian nationalism and delegitimizes dissenting views while casting Ukraine’s independence efforts as treachery. Conversely, Ukraine selectively elevates the roles of the OUN, UPA, and Stepan Bandera, celebrating their fight for independence while downplaying their collaboration with Nazi forces and associated atrocities. For Ukraine, this selective lens is not a historical revision but a response to Russia’s monopolization of WWII memory. Emphasising nationalist resistance serves as a counter-narrative that legitimizes its sovereignty and aligns its identity with Western democratic values, despite the controversies surrounding these historical groups and figures.

Temporality captures how narratives shift over time, revealing the evolving interpretations of WWII in Russia and Ukraine since 2014. For Putin, the annexation of Crimea and the raging war in Eastern Ukraine marked a return to Soviet-style diplomacy, accompanied by a reframing of WWII as a moral justification for contemporary Russian policies. Putin’s rhetoric increasingly equates Russia’s actions with the Soviet Union’s fight against fascism, portraying Ukraine and its Western allies as existential threats. In Ukraine, the Euromaidan revolution catalyzed a re-evaluation of its historical memory, with an emphasis on independence struggles rather than Soviet victimhood. This shift aligned Ukraine’s narrative with its aspirations for integration into the European Union and NATO states while challenging Russia’s hegemonic account of WWII. This reorientation not only reinforced national unity in the face of Russian aggression but also signaled a deeper ideological break with Moscow, further solidifying Ukraine’s pivot toward the West. In response, Russia intensified its own revisionist history, weaponizing WWII memory to justify its actions and delegitimize Ukraine’s sovereignty, a strategy that underscores its broader geopolitical ambitions to maintain influence over the post-Soviet space.

Conclusion

In conclusion, the ongoing conflict between Russia and Ukraine cannot be fully understood without examining the evolution and politicization of WWII memory. Russia’s narrative of the GPW functions as a performative tool to rally domestic support, to delegitimize Ukraine’s sovereignty, and to frame its military actions as a continuation of the Soviet struggle against fascism. By contrast, Ukraine’s interpretation of WWII emphasizes its long-standing resistance to external domination, situating its independence movement within a broader historical context.

By applying Somers and Gibson’s framing of narratives, this paper demonstrated that the divergent memories of WWII are not just reflections of past events but are active instruments shaping the present conflict. The selective appropriation of history underscores the incompatibility of the two nations’ narratives: while Russia clings to Soviet-era heroism, unity, and “victory,” Ukraine seeks to forge a distinct identity aligned with Western democratic values. Temporality reveals that these narratives have evolved dynamically, reflecting and reinforcing the respective political and cultural priorities of each state. Ultimately, the interplay between these competing memories has not only exacerbated tensions but also entrenched ideological divides, making WWII memory politics a central battleground in the struggle over Ukrainian sovereignty and identity.

The role of WWII memory in shaping Russian and Ukrainian national identities, particularly in the context of Russia’s struggle to define a collective identity beyond the state, presents avenues for future research. In Putin’s Russia, WWII serves as a primary marker of Russianness, filling the ideological void left by the Soviet collapse and reinforcing a historical continuity that ties national pride to state-led narratives.Even among critics of the regime, alternative forms of identity remain constrained by the overwhelming presence of state-controlled historical discourse. In contrast, Ukraine’s collective memory is more decentralized, with WWII functioning as one component of a broader national narrative. However, tensions remain regarding the nationalist interpretations of WWII, which do not always align with the European values that Ukraine aspires to embrace. Additionally, future research should further interrogate the concept of “politics of memory” itself – does it always require state intervention, or can non-state actors meaningfully shape historical narratives? While Ukraine’s Institute of National Remembrance plays a role in decommunization policies, its influence on historical scholarship and education is limited compared to the centralized control exercised by the Russian government. Examining the institutional mechanisms behind memory politics in both countries could provide deeper insights into how history is mobilized to serve contemporary political agendas.

Endnotes

[1] EUvsDisinfo. “FLASHBACK – Putin Starting the War: What He Said and What It Really Means,” (2025). https://euvsdisinfo.eu/flashback-putin-starting-the-war-what-he-said-and-what-it-really-means/

[2] EUvsDisinfo. “Why is the Kremlin so Hung up on Smearing Zelenskyy?” (2025). https://euvsdisinfo.eu/why-is-the-kremlin-so-hung-up-on-smearing-zelenskyy/

[3] Stanley, Jason. “The Antisemitism Animating Putin’s Claim to ‘Denazify’ Ukraine,” The Guardian (2022). https://www.theguardian.com/world/2022/feb/25/vladimir-putin-ukraine-attack-antisemitism-denazify

[4] Margaret Somers, and Gibson, Gloria, “Reclaiming the Epistemological Other: Narrative and the Social Constitution of Identity,” CSST Working Papers, The University of Michigan, (1993). DOI: https://deepblue.lib.umich.edu/bitstream/handle/2027.42/51265/499.pdf, 27.

[5] Mark Edele, “Fighting Russia’s History Wars: Vladimir Putin and the Codification of World War II,” History and Memory 29, no. 2 (2017): 98, https://doi.org/10.2979/histmemo.29.2.05.

[6] Edele, “Russia’s History Wars,” 96.

[7] Edele, “Russia’s History Wars,” 98.

[8] “Khrushchev’s Secret Speech, ‘On the Cult of Personality and Its Consequences’, Delivered at the Twentieth Party Congress of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union,” Wilson Center Digital Archive, Feb 18, 2025, https://digitalarchive.wilsoncenter.org/document/khrushchevs-secret-speech-cult-personality-and-its-consequences-delivered-twentieth-party.

[9] Edele, “Russia’s History Wars,” 98.

[10] Edele, “Russia’s History Wars,” 98.

[11] Edele, “Russia’s History Wars,” 98.

[12] Edele, “Russia’s History Wars,” 98.

[13] Edele, “Russia’s History Wars,” 98.

[14] Roman Solchanyk, Ukraine and Russia: The Post-Soviet Transition (Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 2001), 130.

[15] Maria Popova, and Oxana Shevel, Russia and Ukraine: Entangled Histories, Diverging States (Cambridge; Polity Press, 2024), 32.

[16] Popova and Shevel, Russia and Ukraine, 67.

[17] Solchanyk, Ukraine and Russia, 12.

[18] Jade McGlynn, “Historical Framing of the Ukraine Crisis through the Great Patriotic War: Performativity, Cultural Consciousness and Shared Remembering,” Memory Studies 13, no. 6 (2020): 1060, https://doi.org/10.1177/1750698018800740.

[19] Astrid Erll, Memory in Culture (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011), 170.

[20] Popova and Shevel, Russia and Ukraine: Entangled Histories, Diverging States, 87.

[21] Popova and Shevel, Russia and Ukraine: Entangled Histories, Diverging States, 31.

[22] Popova and Shevel, Russia and Ukraine: Entangled Histories, Diverging States, 91-94.

[23] Popova and Shevel, Russia and Ukraine: Entangled Histories, Diverging States, 95.

[24] Edele, “Russia’s History Wars,” 91.

[25] Edele, “Russia’s History Wars,” 92.

[26] Popova and Shevel, Russia and Ukraine, 143.

[27] Solchanyk, Ukraine and Russia, 13

[28] Solchanyk, Ukraine and Russia, 13.

[29] Solchanyk, Ukraine and Russia: The Post-Soviet Transition, 12.

[30] Paul J. D’Anieri, Ukraine and Russia: From Civilized Divorce to Uncivil War,  2^nd ed.(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2023), https://doi.org/10.1017/9781108657044, 235.

[31] D’Anieri, Divorce to War, 235.

[32] D’Anieri, Divorce to War, 235.

[33] D’Anieri, Divorce to War, 235.

[34] D’Anieri, Divorce to War, 236.

[35] Edele, “Russia’s History Wars,” 107.

[36] Government of Russia, Federal Law No. 128-FZ of 5 May 2014 – On Changes to Certain Legislative Acts of the Russian Federation. No. 128-FZ, Moscow: Government of Russia, 2014. https://melaproject.org/sites/default/files/2019-07/Federal%20Law%20No.%20128-FZ%20of%205%20May%202014%20-%20On%20Changes%20to%20Certain%20Legislative%20Acts%20of%20the%20Russian%20Federation%20.pdf.

[37] Edele, “Russia’s History Wars,” 108.

[38] Edele, “Russia’s History Wars,” 93.

[39] Edele, “Russia’s History Wars,” 109.

[40] McGlynn, “Historical Framing,” 1062.

[41] Andrew Wilson, Political Technology: The Globalisation of Political Manipulation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2023), 92.

[42] Wilson, Political Technology, 92.

[43] Wilson, Political Technology, 92.

[44] Wilson, Political Technology, 92.

[45] Oushakine, Serguei Alex. The Patriotism of Despair: Nation, War, and Loss in Russia. 1st ed. Cornell University Press, 2009. http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.7591/j.ctt7z6nz. 6.

[46]Wood, Elizabeth. “Performing Memory: Vladimir Putin and the Celebration of WWII in Russia,”The Soviet and Post-Soviet Review 38, no. 2 (2011): 172-200. https://doi.org/10.1163/187633211X591175. XX.

[47] Andrei Nikerichev, “75% of Russians Say Soviet Era Was ‘Greatest Time’ in Country’s History – Poll,” The Moscow Times, Sanoma News, March 24, 2020, https://www.themoscowtimes.com/2020/03/24/75-of-russians-say-soviet-era-was-greatest-time-in-countrys-history-poll-a69735.

[48] Nicolas Camut, “Zelensky Moves to Change Ukraine’s WWII Victory Day in Jab at Russia,” Politico Europe, Axel Springer SE, May 8 2023,  https://www.politico.eu/article/volodymyr-zelenskyy-change-ukraines-victory-day-wwii-russia/.

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