The Kremlin isn’t just trying to prove it’s right anymore. It’s trying to make people feel good about its version of reality.
If the picture looks warm, the soundtrack is soothing, and a latte steams gently in the frame, even a tank in the background can go unnoticed.
War for hearts and minds
In traditional warfare, success is measured in land seized and troops deployed. In the information war, the goal is to win over emotions.
Numbers and grim footage don’t move people—but uplifting stories, picturesque landscapes and snippets of “everyday heroism” do.
So while Russia continues to send men into “meat assaults,” it also spends millions on narratives of normality: cozy kitchens, kind locals, and the charm of “traditional values.”
Far from the front lines, it’s crafting a cinematic vision of a country untouched by war.
Influencers for hire
One of Moscow’s most effective tools is a new breed of “independent” influencer—vloggers who insist they “don’t do politics.”
But behind the scenes, many are anything but independent.
A recent investigation by the Organized Crime and Corruption Reporting Project (OCCRP) and iStories found that a number of such YouTubers receive payments from RT (formerly Russia Today).
A standout example is the Russian Road channel, reportedly tied to RT producer Artyom Vorobey. Its videos tell heartwarming tales of Americans, Japanese and Britons who have “found their paradise” in Russia.
No mention of sponsors, of course—just long takes of food, folklore, “safe streets,” and the promise of a simpler life.
From a PR perspective, it’s clever. The content feels spontaneous and authentic. But scratch the surface and a clear pattern appears: this is soft propaganda dressed as lifestyle storytelling.
Lifestyle vloggers
A newer trend takes this even further. Enter the lifestyle vloggers. On TikTok and Instagram, they stroll through cities with a camera, showing “a day in my life”—where to eat, what to do, where to relax.
According to the Digital Forensic Research Lab (DFRLab), pro-Kremlin TikTok accounts excel at this kind of subtle messaging. They show bright, modern apartments and smiling families in Mariupol—a city flattened by Russian bombs and occupied for more than three years.
What the videos don’t show are the mass graves just down the street.
It’s a trick borrowed from the TV playbook. During the Chechen wars, Russian state television used similar “human interest” segments to downplay atrocities.
The effect is psychological: viewers come away thinking that “not everything is so black and white.”
Targeting the TikTok generation
The Kremlin’s latest audience is the one most fluent in emojis—the TikTok generation.
The Brookings Institution reported last year that while there are fewer state-linked accounts on TikTok than on Telegram or X, they’re growing fast in both activity and engagement.
Short clips mixing music, culture and “good vibes” slip political messages into everyday entertainment.
Two viral hits, Sigmaboy by Betsy and Maria Yankovskaya and Matushka by Tatiana Kurtkova, show how it works: patriotic lyrics, catchy tunes, and millions of views.
The musicians deny Kremlin ties, but their messaging fits perfectly into Moscow’s playbook.
Social platforms have tried to respond by limiting reach and deleting covert operations. But it’s a game of cat and mouse. The same content reappears under new names, often enhanced with AI-generated faces.
Why it works—and how to counter it
Russia’s strategy works for three simple reasons:
First, style comes before substance. A 30-second video works like perfume—you sense the “pleasant smell” before you know what’s inside.
Second, “authenticity” sells. A smiling YouTuber feels more trustworthy than a government spokesman.
Third, emotions trump geopolitics. A “country of friendly people and great food” is easier to like than a regime waging war.
Countering this requires more than fact-checking. No one will trade TikTok for a PDF.
What’s needed are fast, well-made counter-stories—clips that are honest, visually engaging and emotionally intelligent.
Transparency also matters: platforms should clearly label funding sources and flag hidden influence networks.
And finally, media literacy. People need tools—not lectures—to recognize when “authentic enthusiasm” is just another paid campaign.
The new front line
Soft power has always been about persuasion. But in the age of algorithms, it’s about seduction.
Russia doesn’t need to convince the world it’s right—only that it’s normal.
And in the endless scroll of social media, that illusion can be enough.
Borys Sudin
The writer is a digital media journalist at public broadcaster Polish Radio.