You See What You Want to See in Russia

Back in October 2022, I wrote that the war in Ukraine provided a “Rorschach Test” between two contrasting worldviews about international politics and foreign policy. Those who favored open-ended support for Kyiv saw the war as a critical turning point with far-reaching consequences for the future world order. If Russia suffered a humiliating defeat, then NATO would be strengthened, norms against conquest would be reaffirmed, and future revisionists would be deterred from trying something similar. If Russia gained anything from the war, however, they believed these same norms would be weakened, would-be aggressors would be emboldened, democracy would be discredited, and world politics would take an ominous turn for the worse. By contrast, those who favored more conditional support for Kyiv saw the war as a more isolated event that would not have much impact on subsequent events in Africa, Asia, the Middle East, or anywhere else. While agreeing that a Ukrainian victory was desirable, they believed that NATO’s (and Kyiv’s) war aims should be tempered by a realistic sense of Ukraine’s military prospects and a careful weighing of the costs and risks.

One might think that the past year and a half would have led outside observers to reconsider some of their views—or at least hedge their bets a little. The failure of Russia’s initial invasion, the imposition of far-reaching sanctions, and Ukraine’s successful counteroffensives during the summer of 2022 did not convince Moscow to abandon the war, and its military performance has improved since then. Ukraine’s current counteroffensive has yet to achieve meaningful gains, although Kyiv has yet to launch an all-out effort against the main Russian defense lines. But instead of absorbing these new developments and revising their views, many observers have simply doubled down on their prior commitments and interpreted recent events as a vindication of their previous positions.

This tendency was on vivid display during the brief upheaval launched by Yevgeny Prigozhin and the Wagner Group a month ago. Gallons of ink and millions of pixels have been devoted to unpacking the whole bizarre episode, but what was most striking to me was how outside observers saw it as confirmation of long-held positions and a reason to double down on their prior prescriptions. Western hard-liners were quick to trumpet Prigozhin’s claim that Russian President Vladimir Putin’s justifications for the war were lies, treating a proven fabulist as if he were a highly reliable source. Others immediately concluded that Putin was in deep trouble, his hold on power would be permanently weakened, his mild response to Prigozhin’s defiance showed that he was a paper tiger whose threats to escalate could be ignored, and that the mutiny was a golden opportunity to take advantage of the disarray they believed might weaken Russian efforts on the battlefield. U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken weighed in, too, telling several media outlets that l’affaire Prigozhin revealed “cracks emerg[ing]” within Russia as a result of the war.

By contrast, those with a more pessimistic (or perhaps realistic) view of the war tended to take a more measured view of the brouhaha. The swift collapse of Prigozhin’s “revolt” suggested that Putin had little trouble retaining the loyalty of key commanders and security forces, and there was no sign that the events over the weekend of June 24 had weakened Russia’s military effort in Ukraine. A few killjoys reminded readers that abortive coups sometimes leave leaders in a stronger position, other commentators reminded us that Prigozhin was a hard-line Russian nationalist who wanted to wage the war in Ukraine even more brutally, and a few Cassandras warned that the complete collapse of Putin’s regime might have very worrisome consequences. For most people in this camp, the uprising was a dramatic but ultimately minor kerfuffle that wouldn’t have much effect on the battlefield, which is what really matters in this war.

What’s going on here? Why did so many people see this event as confirmation for what they already believed?

The explanation for some of these interpretations is obvious: It’s wartime propaganda. It is hardly surprising that Ukrainian and Western officials would seize upon an event like the Prigozhin affair to encourage dissent in Russia, rally support at home, and defend their policy choices. Governments of all kinds spin, distort, prevaricate, and lie to advance their aims—especially when they are at war. For this reason, no sensible person should take Ukrainian or Western pronouncements at face value. The same caution applies to any official statements emanating from Moscow, of course. For obvious political reasons, both sides are going to interpret events in ways that place them in the best possible light.

Second, none of us is immune to wishful thinking. If your fondest wish is to see Ukraine liberated and Putin humiliated, then it’s understandable that you would see the mutiny as a sign that your dreams may be coming true. Although one might hope that analysts would resist this tendency and ask themselves if they are seeing only what they want to see, they’re bound to succumb to this temptation more often than they should. After all, they’re only human.

A third reason, as the late Robert Jervis repeatedly stressed, is the universal tendency to interpret new information as consistent with one’s prior beliefs. This isn’t simply “wishful thinking”: It is a consequence of the way our brains process information. We all rely on a set of frameworks or theories to make sense of the world, and it’s easier to insert a new piece of information into our existing set of beliefs than it is to rethink our entire understanding of some situation. Human beings do revise their beliefs eventually—especially when confronted by a big and discordant piece of information that is inconsistent with what we previously thought—but usually more slowly than we should. Small wonder that so many saw Prigozhin’s conduct as support for what they already believed.

But something else may be at work as well. The war has been underway for nearly a year and a half, and a lot of people have now weighed in on how it happened, what it means, where it’s going, and what policies should be followed. When the war is finally over, a lot of people are likely to be embarrassed (though if history is any guide, few will admit they were wrong or express much regret for their errors). If it ends with Ukraine in ruins, Russia in possession of a big chunk of Ukrainian territory, and Putin still in power, the people who kept clamoring to continue the war and predicting a Ukrainian triumph are going to look pretty silly. By the same logic, a Ukrainian victory or Putin’s ouster would vindicate the hawks and cast doubt on the warnings issued by realists and restrainers.

Unfortunately, this situation may tempt some commentators to “gamble for (analytical) resurrection.” Just as leaders facing defeat sometimes double down in the hopes of a miracle, analysts whose forecasts are not being borne out may cling to their original predictions and prescriptions in the hope that a sudden turn of fortune will vindicate them after all. Think about it: After nearly 18 months of war, how many pundits have admitted they were wrong about anything about the conflict? None of us has been right about everything, but with the partial exception of Henry Kissinger, I can’t think of a single prominent commentator who has publicly changed their mind about the key issues involved or reluctantly concluded that their original prescriptions were faulty.

To be clear: I don’t know how this war ends. I would like Ukraine to win decisively and regain most if not all of its territory, but I doubt this is possible even if Kyiv receives ATACMS, F-16s, and all the other items on its ever-expanding wish list. Unlike some observers, I remain concerned that Russia will use weapons of mass destruction if it faces the sort of catastrophic defeat that hard-liners in the West still yearn for. A prolonged stalemate may eventually produce a fragile peace, but the cost to Ukraine will be enormous. But as I try to figure out where things are headed and what should be done, I wish I had more confidence that the people I’m reading were telling me what they really think, or spending any time asking themselves where they might be wrong.