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How the New York Times report justifies the crimes of the Russian military

Today we analyse a New York Times report entitled 'The Deserter', which is an example of manipulation and justification of the crimes of the Russian military, as it creates a distorted view of the Russian aggressor n the minds of readers. In fact, such publications only divert attention from the crimes of the Russians and encourage them to never be held accountable for their participation in the war, saying that they are there 'not by choice'.
MANIPULATIONS
MANIPULATIONS

Ukrainians are often accused of ignoring “russian culture” despite not watching russian films, reading their books, or listening to their music. Critics argue that Ukrainians cannot make fair judgments without engaging with russian culture. While we actually advise avoiding all things russian, some experts believe it’s important to analyze such material critically. 

Fact-checker Aliona Malichenko from Behind the News examined a 30,000-word article (actually a mini-novel), spanning 38 chapters, by American journalist Sarah Topol in The New York Times Magazine. Malichenko’s conclusion: the piece is pure propaganda - skillfully written but still a piece of propaganda. 

The report is aimed at manipulating readers and justifying russian military actions by distorting the aggressor’s image. 

We aim to share this finding widely and encourage you to share this story. We also invite journalists to republish the analysis, with credit to Behind the News and author Aliona Malichenko. 

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It’s unprecedented but happening again. The New York Times Magazine, a prestigious American outlet, has published a report titled “The Deserter,” detailing a russian soldier’s “decision to flee with his family after fighting in Putin’s war against Ukraine”. 

The story gained further attention with its adaptation into a five-hour movie, “The Deserter: An Epic Story of Love and War,” narrated by Liev Schreiber, an American actor with Ukrainian roots, who has actively supported Ukraine since the start of the war. He is also an ambassador of the United 24 platform and has been supporting Ukraine since the start of the full-scale war.  So, it’s not clear what bug bit him and got him involved in recounting the story of “a russian Ivan.”

We admit that the report is well-written, adhering to classic storytelling techniques: a clear plot, rising tension, climax, and resolution. It employs many suspenseful moments, such as when the russian soldier (we can’t use the word “hero” in relation to the russian, although it is used repeatedly in the story) nervously passes through airport security in Belarus and the computer at Customs freezes. He stands there, imagining he might be exposed. Just as the tension peaks, the agent allows him to proceed to the boarding gate. Several such moments are woven throughout the story.

There’s a strong possibility that the story may be adapted by Netflix. The streaming giant previously sparked controversy by casting russians in roles as genocide victims, as seen in the recent series based on the Japanese manga “One Piece”. Despite Ukrainian protests, Netflix has not reconsidered casting decisions, such as hiring Lera Abova, a russian actress, in one of the series’ roles. 

Justifying the crimes of the russian military 

The story of Ivan and Anna is at the heart of “The Deserter”. Their names are fictitious, supposedly for safety reasons, say the author and protagonists, though they still participated in a photo shoot - showing them from the back - for the article. 

The story is sprawling - 38 chapters, 30,000 words - like a mini-novel or a Tolstoy-like book (sic!). While written in polished literary language, it misleads readers by portraying a career military officer who fought in a war against a sovereign state as a victim of circumstances, ranging from poverty to historical events, political decisions, etc. 

The report manipulates and justifies the crimes of the russian military, shaping a distorted view of the aggressor for the audience. 

The “epic story of love and war” begins with the couple meeting at a dance - Ivan is so drunk that he cannot recall Anna’s face the next day. After that, Anna returns to her hometown of St. Petersburg, described with almost romantic admiration as “the city of white nights, harsh winters, and big dreams” (the author obviously cannot hide her admiration for russia). Meanwhile, Ivan embarks on a month-long “routine expedition” in the Pacific Ocean to observe the training of U.S. allies.

Ivan describes his ship as old and outdated, recounting an encounter with an American aircraft carrier where “everyone waved at each other.” The text paints russian military intelligence operations as benign, more focused on sunrises and ocean swims than anything substantial. This portrayal is repeated throughout the article, as Ivan positions himself as a mere cog in the russian military machine, powerless to change anything, despite having risen to the rank of captain.

Manipulations to make readers feel sorry for the protagonists 

After setting the stage with idyllic seascapes, the narrative shifts to Ivan’s childhood in the 1990s. The story tries to elicit sympathy by recounting how Ivan had to stand on a piece of cardboard in the cold while trying on clothes at a market. This supposedly traumatic experience is framed as a driving force behind his decision to join the army, offering the familiar narrative of escaping poverty. 

But this portrayal is misleading. First, standing on cardboard in the market was a common experience for many people in the post-Soviet space, not unique to Ivan. More importantly, the author casually mentions that Ivan comes from a family of military men - both his father and grandfather served in the army. So, it turns out his decision to enlist wasn’t about escaping poverty after all. Ivan himself admits his parents “didn’t talk much about politics,” only teaching him that he “lives in a fair country.” 

After high school, a family friend - remember, this is a military family - tells Ivan about a special military unit where “young recruits go on survival training missions with minimal equipment, just a compass and a list of instructions, living in the wild and navigating enemy lines during wartime. They sneak behind enemy lines to safely lead the rest of the troops to victory, protecting their people and defending their homeland.” Ivan is drawn to this idea and decides to enter “one of russia’s most competitive military academies.” For a “guy from nowhere,” as Ivan describes himself, this seemed like a great opportunity - complete with “a diploma, free healthcare, a pension, and a guaranteed apartment after retirement.” He claims he never thought he’d go to war; he simply “loved the romance” of it all. The author once again tries to present Ivan as a poor boy who saw the army as his only way out.

However, throughout the text, the word “research” is used repeatedly in reference to his military specialty, a term that can also be translated as “reconnaissance.” While at the academy, Ivan and other “recruits trained by skiing in remote wilderness areas, practicing hand-to-hand combat, calculating how much TNT is needed to blow up a railroad or bridge, learning languages, and building physical endurance.” You might agree that this doesn’t align with the image of a helpless “guy from nowhere” forced into war by circumstance.

Next, the story shifts to depict Ivan as a victim of corruption within the russian military. After graduating from the academy, he ends up in a position “far removed from the elite unit he had trained for.” He describes how commanders steal rations, sell fuel, and force soldiers to engage in these corrupt practices to avoid problems. The narrative paints Ivan and his fellow soldiers as victims of the system, silently following orders to protect themselves. Ivan explains that he couldn’t leave the service because he was financially trapped - breaking his contract would mean he would have to repay the state for his education, lose his benefits, and have a negative mark on his service record.

As the story progresses, Ivan’s hardships intensify under a new commander. Despite having served for years, including during russia’s war with Georgia, Ivan’s recollections of his service focus on mundane details like painting the grass green and paying for barracks repairs out of pocket. The author even includes statistics that in 2008, about 30 percent of officers ranked major and below earned salaries at or below the poverty line. 

And just in case the reader isn’t feeling sorry enough for Ivan yet, here’s a direct quote: “Few civilians realized that every commander in the russian army was actually a financial hostage. When an officer took up his position, he signed responsibility for all the equipment of his unit, much of which had been sold or exchanged by the previous commander.” 

Messages about “One People, One Nation”

Let’s skip over Ivan and Anna’s family dynamics and move to the time of the full-scale invasion. Despite being a “financial hostage of the system,” Ivan never canceled his contract, though he wasn’t in a rush to go to war either. According to his account, pressure on officers increased after the invasion, with threats of public humiliation - such as a “board of shame” displaying the portraits of those who refused to serve - or even physical violence. The narrative suggests that they had no choice but to go to war. 

Others were allegedly misled by promises that their children would be enrolled in prestigious schools, or by the idea that they could “make some money and return home.” In order to drive home the point of the russian army’s dysfunction, the author adds that none of “Ivan’s men received the training they had been promised before deployment.”

Ivan himself claimed he avoided the front by citing illness or family issues. Yet, he also previously expressed interest in going to Syria, where he was told the pay was double and there was hardly any fighting - because Wagner Group mercenaries were doing most of it. When partial mobilization began in russia, Ivan received orders to deploy to Ukraine. He sought help from a lawyer and got a postponement by claiming he misunderstood the order - he was willing to serve, but only in his current non-combat position.

Later, when he received another combat order, he felt he had two choices: go to prison, where he could be “introduced to a mop” (a direct quote), or go to the front. Before his deployment, the narrative offers a sentimental scene reminiscent of Soviet-era films, where Anna gives Ivan a cross amulet and pleads, “Please, just survive.” 

Ivan describes the beginning of the war as boring. His platoon spent their time setting up their daily lives and waiting. He was given new recruits, or “newbies,” for training and taught them basic skills - how to run, shoot, and take cover. He complained that while Ukrainians had American Javelins for training, the russians had little equipment for training purposes, so they treated their few missiles like treasure.

Ivan portrays his platoon as “decent people” and echoes pro-Kremlin narratives about “one people.” In Ukraine, he felt as though he was in russia, noting that “the same small villages, the same old Soviet cars, the same broken roads” were present. He didn’t consider himself an occupier because, in his view, he was there “not by his own will,” and feelings of guilt were “a luxury of peacetime.”

He claims his platoon rarely fought, describing their involvement in combat as simply trying to survive and “sit it out in some hole.” But this doesn’t align with the story of Anna scrambling to buy him a thermal imaging scope for his weapon, insisting she did everything she could to keep him from “rotting in some field with sunflowers.” 

Shifting responsibility 

After Ivan was hospitalized with a herniated disc, he and Anna devised a plan to escape russia. They sought guidance from a Telegram channel dedicated to helping deserters flee russia. Following that advice, they left Belarus, traveling separately through unnamed countries before reuniting in Turkey.

At the conclusion of the article, the author reveals that she spent over a year and a half gathering material and nearly a year writing. She interviewed 18 russian army deserters but chose Ivan as the focus of her report because of his ambiguity. One might wonder if Topol will ever write a similar piece about the true victims of russian aggression - Ukrainians. But that is a rhetorical question.

The author then shares Ivan’s story with three men involved in verifying deserter accounts in Kazakhstan. One of them states that Ivan had ample opportunities to avoid the war but chose to go to the front willingly. The other two men argue that responsibility for the war cannot be solely placed on the soldiers, insisting that it lies with the politicians who make the decisions and the generals who carry them out. One of them adds that Ivan, trained as an officer, acted against his convictions, making his desertion a heroic act. In the final paragraph, Ivan downplays his actions, remarking that this is “not a story about heroes or bravery,” but rather about “how departing from Putin’s system is a judgment without end.” 

You may be wondering why we are scrutinizing The New York Times Magazine’s report in such detail. The reason lies in a recent incident: when Ukrainians protested against the screening of the propaganda film “russians at War” in Toronto, Canadian producers and cultural figures responded with multiple op-eds in major outlets, claiming that Ukrainians were criticizing the film without having watched it. In anticipation of similar defense statements from the “russian world,” we want to make it clear that we read “The Deserter” in full - all 38 chapters. And our conclusion is that it is propaganda. Veiled and well-written, but still propaganda. 

It is aimed at Western audiences, and judging by the reactions in the English-speaking community, it has been highly effective. Readers described it as an amazing report, worthy of a Pulitzer, a piece of great literature that lingers in the mind - a triumph of journalism and storytelling. 

This is not the first time The New York Times has advanced a narrative of ambiguity regarding “Putin’s war,” publishing materials with the tone of “not everything is so clear.” The editor of the publication even criticized Western institutions for severing ties with russian cultural figures.

“The Deserter” continues along these lines, depicting russian soldiers as poor, ordinary people who were manipulated into the war through political games. These soldiers are portrayed as decent individuals - whose wives read Brodsky and whose children send drawings with the message, “Remember, we are waiting for you.” What goes unmentioned, however, is the fact that these same russians voluntarily joined an army that invaded an independent country and is conducting a genocidal war.

This kind of rhetoric reinforces the myth that all responsibility rests solely with Putin. Such publications deflect attention from the crimes committed by russian soldiers, suggesting they should not be held accountable for their actions because they are supposedly there “not of their own free will.”

Interestingly, the authors of these pieces often share a similar background. Sarah Topol, the writer behind “The Deserter,” has spent years reporting on the post-Soviet space, speaks russian, and has worked from Moscow. We are not surprised small logo

НАД ПРОЄКТОМ ПРАЦЮВАЛИ
Альона Маліченко
Альона Маліченко
фактчекерка По той бік новин
Halyna Dolynna
Halyna Dolynna
editor of the English texts
АКТУАЛЬНІ НОВИНИ
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