Read the interview in German here.

SCRIPTS studies what puts democracies under pressure and what makes them resilient. Why do we need to discuss German perceptions of Russia in this context?

Gwendolyn Sasse: Liberal orders are challenged by authoritarian actors both from within and from outside. They also become vulnerable when trust in democratic negotiation processes declines. The way we view Russia says a great deal about what we expect from our own democracy and how much we trust it. It reveals where authoritarian promises become appealing. After all, democratic resilience begins not only with institutions, but also with the individual.

Your book is called ‘Russia – A German Invention’. When did Germans begin to ‘invent’ their own Russia?

Those are long-standing historical trends. Some intellectual debates of the 19th century sound astonishingly similar to today’s discussions – for instance, when it comes to the idea that Russia is an alternative to the West: a more authentic society that still lives by values we have supposedly lost. In my book, I focus primarily on the period since 1989/91. I was struck by how often the interviewees brought Gorbachev into the conversation. The positive memory of the opening-up of that era can act as a filter: it overshadows the developments of the decades that followed and obscures a lucid view of today’s Russian foreign policy.

Putin’s 2001 speech to the Bundestag was also a defining moment. However, as Katja Gloger and Georg Mascolo discovered whilst researching their book on German policy towards Russia, German representatives played a decisive role in shaping the content of that widely quoted speech …

… demonstrating how German actors – in this case Horst Teltschik, then chairman of the Munich Security Conference, and Klaus Mangold, chairman of the German Committee on Eastern European Economic Relations – actively helped shape the image of Putin as a partner willing to cooperate – and did so against the backdrop of the Second Chechen War. Thus, they constructed an image of Russia that suited their own political agenda. Seen in this light, the contrast with Putin’s appearance at the Munich Security Conference in 2007, where he sharply criticised Western policy, seems less pronounced.

For your book, you seek a ‘bottom-up’ perspective. You interviewed people not only through surveys but also in lengthy conversations. When analysing the data, you work with ‘spaces of thought’ (Denkräumen) rather than ‘images’. What can be better captured in this way?

An image tends to be rather static. ‘Spaces of thought’, on the other hand, describe a spectrum of ideas along an axis. People can move within these spaces whilst simultaneously combining elements from different spaces of thought. The concept thus also reveals ambivalence, contradictions and changes: in times of crisis, people rarely completely overturn their ideas overnight. Often, they adjust their stance without entirely leaving their familiar space of thought.

For decades, the German Federal Government operated within the ‘Russia as a partner/friend’ space of thought [Denkraum], despite early warnings from the intelligence services and the fact that the Chechen wars could have served as a clear warning sign. Why?

Economic interests and political wishful thinking were intertwined here. As hopes faded that cooperation could bring about change in Russia, policymakers increasingly focused on maintaining close economic ties and securing low-cost energy imports. The security risks posed by this dependence were ignored in the process. Nord Stream 2, for example, was repeatedly portrayed as a purely private-sector project. However, a project of this scale inevitably has a political and security dimension. It was not a lack of information that was the problem, but a lack of willingness to act on it.

Since 24 February 2022, the German Federal Government has moved into the ‘Russia as a risk/enemy’ space of thought. At the same time, the AfD and BSW remain committed to the ‘partner/friend’ space of thought and win votes by doing so. How do you explain these positions coexisting?

Political spaces of thought [Denkräume] are strongly shaped by emotions and fears about the future. Parties such as the AfD and the BSW deliberately exploit these feelings to mobilise support. Whilst the German government and large sections of society have had to adjust their perspective, at least in part, to reality following the shock of the war of aggression, populist forces are capitalising on a deep-seated wishful thinking for stability, peace and a return to supposedly favourable supplies of raw materials.

The affinity for Russia in eastern Germany is often explained by socialisation under the GDR and the state-imposed ‘German-Soviet friendship’. Could that be the case?

My interviewees, who were socialised in the GDR, remained ambivalent on this point. Most said that they had not enjoyed learning Russian and that there had been virtually no contact with Soviet soldiers – described by most as ‘the Russians’. In retrospect, however, this imposed, and unrealised friendship appears more significant and identity-forming than it was at the time. Why? Following major upheavals, experiences are reordered in memory. It is precisely those who found the transformation disappointing who are able to detach individual elements of the past from their political context and contrast them with the present. Positive images of Russia do, however, exist in the West as well – but the historical paths leading to them differ. They serve primarily as a means of self-identification and often have little to do with Russia itself.

These perceptions of Russia proved to be remarkably consistent in your study. You surveyed people a few days before Russia’s large-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022 – and then again several months afterwards. What did you observe?

It was interesting to see how people tried to make sense of events in their own way. After February 2022, it was naturally difficult to maintain a positive view of Putin. Therefore, many effectively removed Putin from their image of Russia: they felt there was something wrong with him. The war was largely reduced to his person and viewed through a psychological lens. However, the positive image of Russia and the Russian people – who were seen as having no control over the war – remained intact. In this way, they did not have to completely abandon what they had previously believed, whilst still avoiding confronting the reality of the political system.

Many of your interviewees said they knew very little about Russia. Nevertheless, before Putin’s full-scale invasion, they admired his firm hand. How does that make sense?

When Germans talk about Russia, they surprisingly often talk about themselves – and frequently with emotional vehemence. Putin served as a counterpoint to German politics and thus to a democracy that was perceived as slow and indecisive in its decision-making. Underlying this is a desire for a plan and political leadership that actually cares. Some put it more or less like this: even if he makes the wrong decisions, at least he makes them. Russia serves as an outlet for fears, anger and the feeling of ‘us down here’ versus ‘them up there’. This becomes dangerous when a largely unquestioned idealised image of authoritarian leadership becomes the standard for one’s own democracy – and its debates and compromises come to be seen merely as weakness. Projections onto Russia are a means and a way of giving expression to this feeling.

In your 2025 security survey, which SCRIPTS funded as part of your research, only around six per cent cited the end of the war in Ukraine as their top security priority. Personal safety in everyday life was clearly the main focus. What does this mean for political communication on defence?

Politicians talk a great deal about military spending. However, when it comes to security, people’s first thoughts are of their family, their finances or public spaces. These perspectives need to be brought together more effectively. It is about making it clear what we are defending: our freedom, our way of living together and our democratic order. Security is a responsibility for society as a whole. As long as the link to people’s own everyday lives is missing, parties such as the AfD can exploit this gap and pit social security against military security.

Many of your respondents fear the war will escalate. Some therefore avoid the news. What consequences does this have for democracy?

I was surprised by how many people, across all educational and income groups, say: ‘The news isn’t good for me, so I no longer listen to it or read it.’ It is therefore not simply a matter of comparing traditional and social media. This is understandable as a defensive reaction. Politically, however, it is dangerous. Those who shut themselves off from current events become harder to reach through reasoned argument. Emotional slogans, disinformation and simplistic promises, however, can continue to capitalise on people’s fears. This is where Russia comes in with its disinformation campaigns, which are focused, amongst other places, on Germany.

How can the media and academia still reach these people and encourage them to engage with political issues?

There is no simple solution to this. A prerequisite for a self-critical examination of one’s own perceptions of Russia and their impact is an interest in what is actually happening in Russia and Ukraine. It is therefore not enough simply to disseminate the same information through different channels. Eastern Europe, for instance, should feature more prominently in schools, as should media literacy. And we need opportunities for direct dialogue. In the focus groups, there was a strong desire to talk about experiences, concerns, and shared and differing perspectives. Many said afterwards how good it had been to have a space for this for once. This makes me cautiously optimistic: when people listen to one another, it creates a starting point for discussion.