Three years ago, as Russian tanks rolled across the Ukrainian border, the world witnessed more than a conventional military invasion. It saw the culmination of a decade-long information war that had already redrawn borders, manipulated elections, and eroded trust in democratic institutions from Crimea to Capitol Hill. Today, as we mark the third anniversary of Vladimir Putin’s full-scale assault, Western democracies face an uncomfortable truth: their greatest vulnerability lies not in their arsenals but in their antiquated ability to speak to their own citizens.
When Russian forces advanced in February 2022, Volodymyr Zelensky’s government didn’t just deploy troops—it deployed information strategically, and in partnership with allies. Within hours, the Ukrainian president’s team and allies widely disseminated declassified intelligence about Russian troop movements, pre-bunked Kremlin narratives about “Nazi regimes” in Kyiv, and leveraged Telegram channels to coordinate civilian resistance. This activity wasn’t solely a result of Zelensky’s charisma and media background: It was the product of an overhaul, albeit ad-hoc, initiated after the failed domestic and international response to Russia’s 2014 annexation of Crimea. Back then a flood of global information operations successfully distracted from and distorted realities on the ground. Ukraine and its allies were unable to ascertain or communicate what was happening, nor establish a stance, before it was too late.
In 2022 the prebuttal campaign that exposed Russia’s false flag operations before the invasion denied Putin the fog of war crucial to his hybrid playbook. When Ukrainian officials coordinated with NATO allies to release satellite imagery of mass graves in Bucha within 72 hours of their discovery, they didn’t merely document war crimes—they stopped the Kremlin’s disinformation cycle in its tracks.
This Kremlin cycle, however, is not solely linked to active warfare. Far from it. And yet, democratic governments continue to treat strategic communication as a wartime asset, rather than a democratic duty.
Autocracies invest billions in communicating with citizens of democratic states and are doing so effectively. Meanwhile, democratic governments are stuck in press release paradigms developed in the fax-machine era. Their adversaries are exploiting AI-generated deepfakes, algorithmically-amplified conspiracies, and state-sponsored “news” hubs that rival the BBC in production quality. The result? A global information asymmetry where Beijing can trumpet its Belt and Road Initiative through Tanzanian TikTok influencers, and Moscow shapes debates about NATO spending in German chat forums. All while Western democracies struggle to explain basic public health measures to their own populations and leave critical policy debates from migration to energy security vulnerable to foreign manipulation.
This needs to change. The information environment has transformed dramatically in the last 20 years, calling for an equally dramatic shift in the way that the Governments operate within this new information environment, a shift that is largely yet to occur in many democracies.
There are a number of reasons – both ideological and bureaucratic – that have hindered reform, from a slow wake up to the threats of a borderless information environment to communications reform efforts being met with allegations of Orwellianism. These are detailed in a paper released by Harvard Kennedy School’s Shorenstein Center, which discusses why democracies have come to neglect their communication function and what they must do about it.
When democratic governments fail to effectively communicate their values, services, and purpose, they leave the field open for other actors—including hostile states—to shape public perceptions. This state silence can have profound real-world implications:
- If only Russia is communicating with citizens in a NATO member state about what NATO stands for, and not the Government of that state – who is shaping the opinion of NATO? Russia or that NATO member state? What are the real-world implications of the electorate losing support for NATO?
- If only China is communicating about the investments that it makes in any given country, through Op-Eds, billboards, and art installations — while the EU simply places a small flag on a sign next to a rural hospital it has built — who will the citizens of that country see as a key supporter, investor and partner? What are the real-world implications of an electorate knowing about Chinese investments, but not those of the EU?
Democratic states and alliances cannot simply decry foreign interference without also addressing their own communication deficits and analysing how this information power imbalance has arisen. This is not just a result of authoritarians playing by a different rule book but is linked to a decline in communication from democracies as they have failed to adapt to the digital age. Fixing this deficit in communication requires more than fact-checking apps or knee-jerk calls for media literacy. It demands a Marshall Plan for democratic communication.
While the pre-bunking of Russian narratives in the lead up to the invasion halted offensives, today Putin’s lies are breaking alliances – as is evident in the tensions in the transatlantic relationship playing out in 2025.
Three years into Europe’s bloodiest conflict since 1945, the question isn’t whether democracies can outspend and out-arm authoritarian regimes to prevent all-out war, it’s whether they can finally learn to speak—and be heard. The alternative is unthinkable: not just lost elections, but lost generations who no longer believe democracy is worth defending.
The time for democracies to find their voice is now—before their epitaph is written by someone else.
All Quiet on the Western Front: As Russian narratives flood the airwaves – why are democracies stuck on mute?
Camilla Monckton, Shorenstein Fellow (Fall ’23)/ Head of Strategic Communications, UK Cabinet Office (2021 – 2024)
Three years ago, as Russian tanks rolled across the Ukrainian border, the world witnessed more than a conventional military invasion. It saw the culmination of a decade-long information war that had already redrawn borders, manipulated elections, and eroded trust in democratic institutions from Crimea to Capitol Hill. Today, as we mark the third anniversary of Vladimir Putin’s full-scale assault, Western democracies face an uncomfortable truth: their greatest vulnerability lies not in their arsenals but in their antiquated ability to speak to their own citizens.
When Russian forces advanced in February 2022, Volodymyr Zelensky’s government didn’t just deploy troops—it deployed information strategically, and in partnership with allies. Within hours, the Ukrainian president’s team and allies widely disseminated declassified intelligence about Russian troop movements, pre-bunked Kremlin narratives about “Nazi regimes” in Kyiv, and leveraged Telegram channels to coordinate civilian resistance. This activity wasn’t solely a result of Zelensky’s charisma and media background: It was the product of an overhaul, albeit ad-hoc, initiated after the failed domestic and international response to Russia’s 2014 annexation of Crimea. Back then a flood of global information operations successfully distracted from and distorted realities on the ground. Ukraine and its allies were unable to ascertain or communicate what was happening, nor establish a stance, before it was too late.
In 2022 the prebuttal campaign that exposed Russia’s false flag operations before the invasion denied Putin the fog of war crucial to his hybrid playbook. When Ukrainian officials coordinated with NATO allies to release satellite imagery of mass graves in Bucha within 72 hours of their discovery, they didn’t merely document war crimes—they stopped the Kremlin’s disinformation cycle in its tracks.
This Kremlin cycle, however, is not solely linked to active warfare. Far from it. And yet, democratic governments continue to treat strategic communication as a wartime asset, rather than a democratic duty.
Autocracies invest billions in communicating with citizens of democratic states and are doing so effectively. Meanwhile, democratic governments are stuck in press release paradigms developed in the fax-machine era. Their adversaries are exploiting AI-generated deepfakes, algorithmically-amplified conspiracies, and state-sponsored “news” hubs that rival the BBC in production quality. The result? A global information asymmetry where Beijing can trumpet its Belt and Road Initiative through Tanzanian TikTok influencers, and Moscow shapes debates about NATO spending in German chat forums. All while Western democracies struggle to explain basic public health measures to their own populations and leave critical policy debates from migration to energy security vulnerable to foreign manipulation.
This needs to change. The information environment has transformed dramatically in the last 20 years, calling for an equally dramatic shift in the way that the Governments operate within this new information environment, a shift that is largely yet to occur in many democracies.
There are a number of reasons – both ideological and bureaucratic – that have hindered reform, from a slow wake up to the threats of a borderless information environment to communications reform efforts being met with allegations of Orwellianism. These are detailed in a paper released by Harvard Kennedy School’s Shorenstein Center, which discusses why democracies have come to neglect their communication function and what they must do about it.
When democratic governments fail to effectively communicate their values, services, and purpose, they leave the field open for other actors—including hostile states—to shape public perceptions. This state silence can have profound real-world implications:
Democratic states and alliances cannot simply decry foreign interference without also addressing their own communication deficits and analysing how this information power imbalance has arisen. This is not just a result of authoritarians playing by a different rule book but is linked to a decline in communication from democracies as they have failed to adapt to the digital age. Fixing this deficit in communication requires more than fact-checking apps or knee-jerk calls for media literacy. It demands a Marshall Plan for democratic communication.
While the pre-bunking of Russian narratives in the lead up to the invasion halted offensives, today Putin’s lies are breaking alliances – as is evident in the tensions in the transatlantic relationship playing out in 2025.
Three years into Europe’s bloodiest conflict since 1945, the question isn’t whether democracies can outspend and out-arm authoritarian regimes to prevent all-out war, it’s whether they can finally learn to speak—and be heard. The alternative is unthinkable: not just lost elections, but lost generations who no longer believe democracy is worth defending.
The time for democracies to find their voice is now—before their epitaph is written by someone else.