If Vladimir Putin anticipated the punishments that the West would impose on his country in response to a war of conquest in Ukraine, he’d have to be clairvoyant. Even the West’s most hopeless optimists couldn’t have predicted the scope of the global response to Putin’s aggression.
From dramatic increases to European defense spending, to overt material support of Ukraine’s armed forces, to sanctions that involve the pain of restricting Russian energy exports, the West has sacrificed its comfort to meet this threat in ways few could have predicted. The consequences being imposed on Russia aren’t just geopolitical and economic but cultural, too. That is appropriate. It is unfortunate but necessary that the Russian people should endure the hardships their irresponsible leaders have summoned upon them. It would, however, be terribly ill-advised if the West’s response to this aggression evolved from considered and deliberate into something frenetic and hysterical. Sadly, in some quarters, that evolution is occurring before our eyes.
The international institutions dedicated to cultural pursuits that have shunned the Russian government and its vassal, Belarus, are growing by the day. Russian and Belarusian athletes have been banned from participating in international ice skating, skiing, basketball, and tennis events. Neither nation can compete in the Winter Paralympic Games, and FIFA has booted Russian national and club teams from competing. Museums are halting collaboration with their Russian counterparts. Even the International Cat Federation has barred Russian felines from parading down the runway.
All this might seem cosmetic—even a little silly—but it is a valuable pincer in a multipronged global pressure campaign aimed at the Russian regime. These institutions are targeting Russian entities with direct ties to the government. These are fair targets if the objective is to wholly wall off the government in Moscow from the rest of the world. But this pressure campaign is broadening to the degree that it is now pushing and stigmatizing Russian entities without those ties.
For example, the video-game producer Electronic Arts announced Wednesday that it would be removing Russian teams from its hockey and soccer games moving forward. The software designer is “actively evaluating changes to other areas of our games,” too. The same day, the Canadian Junior Hockey League revealed that Russian and Belarusian children would be barred from an upcoming draft. In New Jersey, the Newark city council unanimously adopted a resolution suspending the business licenses of two local Lukoil gas stations, though the Russia-based gas giant’s stations are franchises owned and operated by locals.
Bars and restaurants around the world are either voluntarily or facing “pressure” to rename fare that merely evokes Russia. Vodka brands that sound like they are Russian but are, in fact, produced in the West are facing boycotts. The “Moscow Mule” has been replaced with the “American” or “Snake Island Mule.” Canadian restaurants are rebranding to avoid advertising “Poutine” because it sounds too much like “Putin.” The classic dish “Chicken Kiev,” which is still “Chicken Kiev” even in Kyiv, is under assault for utilizing the Soviet-era anglicized spelling of the Ukrainian capital.
Even classic Russian literature is under assault. In a spasm of enthusiasm for the campaign against Russia, Italy’s University of Milano-Bicocca briefly scuttled a course dedicated to the study of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s works. This is nothing short of madness, and it isn’t harmless.
The global outpouring of hostility toward Putin has begun to encompass all things Russia in a historically familiar way, but that does not excuse the response. The fevered pitch of the Western reaction to Russian aggression could become quite dangerous in the increasingly foreseeable event that Ukraine’s effort to defend itself against Western aggression spills over Ukraine’s borders with a NATO member state.
If a NATO asset is caught in the crossfire, the manic energy that is fueling a backlash against Russian literature and cuisine could manifest as a great public cry to respond to the Kremlin’s recklessness with our own recklessness. The backlash against anything with a tangential connection to Russia is not considered or deliberate, and the West’s reaction to an attack on its citizens by Russia—deliberately or otherwise—will certainly not be dispassionate. The loudest voices will demand a course of action that could very well be suicidal. Theirs would not be a well-reasoned position, so it’s unlikely that they can be reasoned out of it.
The crippling geostrategic consequence presently being meted out against Russia must have a purpose. Is that purpose to raise the costs of Russian action to a level that Moscow cannot absorb? Is it to cripple Russian industry to a degree that will not allow it to recover even after Russia has withdrawn from Ukraine? Is it to foment unrest against the Putin regime with the aim of bringing it down? In the heat of this moment, our objectives have not been clearly defined. This campaign must be deliberate, and omnidirectional expressions of inchoate antipathy toward the symbols of Russian culture do not help matters. They could, in fact, help make our already dire circumstances far worse.
