The Cult of Victory

Episode Narrative

In 1991, the world watched as the Soviet Union crumbled, a seismic shift reverberating not just across geopolitical lines but through the very fabric of Russian society. This collapse didn’t merely signal the end of a political empire; it opened the door to a profound religious revival. Amidst the chaos, many found themselves looking toward the past, to a time when faith and identity intertwined more closely. Orthodox Christianity began to resurface prominently, with a notable surge in self-identification. Yet, amidst this spiritual awakening, a paradox unfolded. While more people openly embraced the Orthodox identity, actual participation in rituals such as confession and communion lagged behind. The yearning for tradition clashed with the indifference of lived faith, leaving many to navigate a tumultuous landscape of belief.

By the late 1990s, the interplay between religion and memory deepened to poignant effect. In 1998, the remains of Tsar Nicholas II and his family were laid to rest in a solemn ceremony in St. Petersburg. The act was not merely an exercise in closure for a tragic chapter of Russian history; it marked a watershed moment in the relationship between imperial legacy and religious reverence. Just two years later, the Russian Orthodox Church took a bold step by canonizing the last Tsar and his family as saints. This act resonated throughout the nation, intertwining the spiritual and historical narratives, establishing the Romanovs not just as figures of the past but as symbols of a renewed faith and hope.

In the new millennium, the Russian Orthodox Church emerged as a powerful voice in public life, adopting the concept of "traditional values" in 2000. This term became a cornerstone of both ecclesiastical and state discourse, promoting ideals of family, morality, and an encompassing national identity. It was a rallying cry that would resonate through the subsequent years, framing Russia’s narrative in a world that often seemed chaotic and disordered. The church positioned itself as a bulwark against modernity’s encroaching individualism. In this moment, it took on a role that spanned beyond the spiritual, delving into the heart of Russian identity itself.

Then came the Russo-Georgian War in 2008. The conflict became more than a territorial dispute; it morphed into a moral crusade in the eyes of the Russian Orthodox Church. The church actively supported the state's posture, articulating its backing in spiritual terms. By framing Russia as a defender of Orthodox civilization, it reinforced a dual narrative — one of spiritual duty and national pride intertwined. The church's involvement was a reminder that the sacred and the state were not distinct; they were inextricably linked, bolstering each other’s ideologies in a landscape under siege.

As the years rolled on, the annexation of Crimea in 2014 brought about a surge in nationalistic fervor, further embedding the church into the fabric of Russian identity. It was during this period that Orthodox symbols became more visible, manifesting in new churches dedicated to the cause of nationality and faith, often overshadowing the voices of other religions. The Orthodox Church of Ukraine and the Crimean Tatars were particularly marginalized, marking a troubling trend toward a singular religious and cultural narrative founded on the principle of Russian supremacy.

Amidst these developments, the march of the Immortal Regiment began in Tomsk in 2012. A movement born from a desire to commemorate the sacrifices of World War II veterans rapidly transformed into a nationwide phenomenon by 2015. Millions took to the streets, carrying portraits of their forebears, blending secular patriotism with religious symbolism. It was a vivid tapestry of grief and pride woven into the national consciousness, a physical representation of the cult of victory that had begun to take shape.

The St. George ribbon emerged as a prominent symbol of military valor, becoming ubiquitous during Victory Day celebrations. Distributed at Orthodox churches, it was often adorned in conjunction with religious services — an emblem of the intertwining of faith and warfare. This duality reinforced the idea that victory was not just a military achievement, but a sacred act, blessed by the church and its enduring narrative of divine favor.

In 2015, the Russian Orthodox Church sought to export this ideology of traditional values beyond Russia’s borders. It positioned itself as a custodian of moral norms, advocating for conservative social policies on international platforms. This initiative illuminated a new phase for the church, one where it pursued an agenda that intersected with global conversations about morality, family, and nationhood.

Yet, as the church sought to expand its influence, the state tightened its grip through legislation like the 2016 Yarovaya Package, which imposed stricter regulations on religious activities across the board. This move highlighted an unsettling trend — an increasing state control over religious expression, and a growing need to monitor dissent within the faith communities. The landscape was shifting, and the coexistence of church and state was becoming fraught with complications.

Fast forward to 2018, the Russian Orthodox Church celebrated a significant anniversary — the centenary of the restoration of the Patriarchate with the election of Patriarch Tikhon in 1917. Here, the church reaffirmed its role in Russian society and its mission over the century. This was not just a celebration of the past; it was a proclamation of the church’s ongoing relevance in a transforming nation.

But 2020 brought a striking image to the forefront: the opening of the Cathedral of the Armed Forces in Moscow, adorned with elaborate war mosaics, including a controversy-triggering depiction of Stalin that was eventually hushed away. This cathedral stood as a testament to the fusion of Orthodox Christianity and military might — a powerful metaphor for a state that sought to reclaim its past while cementing the church’s role as an ally in its modern ambitions.

The year 2022 marked a turning point as Russia embarked on a full-scale invasion of Ukraine. In this time, the Russian Orthodox Church’s alignment with the state tightened, offering spiritual support to military endeavors while justifying the invasion through religious reasoning. Internally, however, this support was not without its critics, with some clergy openly questioning the motives behind the state’s actions. It was a period rife with contradiction, where faith was both a comfort and a source of conflict.

The church’s visible support for the war effort, including distributing St. George ribbons and organizing special services for soldiers, further blurred the lines separating military and religious emblematic practices. It became increasingly difficult to demarcate the sacred from the secular in a narrative that sought to deepen the sense of national solidarity amidst the chaos of war.

As 2023 approached, the state implemented the Law on Foreign Agents, further tightening restrictions on religious organizations, particularly those that dared to criticize the government. This action further reinforced the state’s control over religious narratives and intensified the atmosphere of suspicion surrounding various faith communities.

In the coming years, the church’s influence showed no signs of waning. In 2024, Patriarch Kirill continued to appear alongside President Putin, further entwining the church's presence with state functions. This partnership emphasized not only the church's role in maintaining social order but also its significance as a bulwark for traditional Russian values in a rapidly changing world. The establishment of the “Oberig” digital registry, which encompassed data on approximately eighty percent of military personnel, hinted at the state's desire to monitor and manage religious affiliations within its armed services.

As 2025 dawned, the intertwining of church and state was evident in the educational sphere as well. The Russian Orthodox Church's strong influence shaped school curricula, embedding Orthodox values and their interpretation of history into the very fabric of youth education. This strategy often came at the expense of secular and pluralistic perspectives, further entrenching a singular narrative within the minds of the future generation.

The World Russian People’s Council continued its advocacy for traditional values and the protection of religious liberties under church auspices. Such initiatives influenced both domestic policy and international dialogues. The "Russian World" ideology, championed by Patriarch Kirill, emphasized the spiritual and cultural unity of Russian-speaking peoples. It provided a moral underpinning for political and military actions, often seeking justification through narratives steeped in religious and cultural mythology.

As we reflect on the religious landscape of Russia, it becomes clear that we are witnessing a complex interplay of state control and Orthodox dominance. The Russian Orthodox Church serves not merely as a spiritual institution but as a key architect in the construction of national identity. The cult of victory, imbued with religious significance, has become an enduring thread woven into the fabric of society, a constant reminder of the past while influencing the present and future.

The question remains: In the shadow of such intertwining, how does one navigate identity — both personal and collective — in a world where faith, memory, and nationalism converge into a singular narrative? The journey ahead will be as complicated as the history that has shaped it, as Russia continues to seek its place — both on the global stage and within its own soul.