I was sitting at a table having a coffee while scrolling on my phone. My social media was brimming with news, opinion articles, and videos of the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Or, in an Orwellian twist spun by the Russian propaganda, a special military operation on Ukrainian soil. It was going now on its third week, leaving a trace of dead people, refugees, and destruction brought upon both northeastern Ukrainian cities and countryside . In the West, far from the conflict, drums calling for war slowly begin to take the center stage as Russiaphobia rises along with the solidarity shown to the Ukrainian people. There is a new old enemy in town. Different face, more ingenious, and almost an upside down caricature of us.

A woman sat a table next to mine. She seemed in her forties and her facial traits gave her foreignness away. She opened her laptop and sighed. The sigh gave in to some indiscernible words that sounded Russian. A man approached her at that moment and they started talking. He was a tall and old white man probably in his sixties. They knew each other and the man asked her how she was. The typical jovial and polite American conversation starter. But the response was anything but the usual ‘I am great!’. It started with some hesitation, followed by some mumbling, and then a ‘I am OK.’, to which the man replied with surprise, not finding it genuine. She explained that she was just reading the news about the war, and then they kept talking about it, with the man taking the lead. He was mentioning how Putin and the Kremlin’s talking points did not make sense, but yet many people in Russia believed it given the superbly oiled propaganda machine set up by the regime. She nodded in agreement, and the well-intentioned American carried on his reasoning. She intervened to say that she did not have any relatives back in Russia. Only distant ones. Nonetheless, it was still her home and her people, coined over all Western media as invaders.

We all know this story — from Russia but from other nations closer to us, geographically but also culturally. The blood thirsty imperialists, nostalgic for an empire lost already twice in the last century. The evil that must be again defeated to protect our way of living in the Free World. We (i.e., the Ukrainians) shall fight them on the beaches, on the landing grounds, in the fields, streets and hills, but also (now, We) on WhatsApp, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and the likes, using 15-sec long videos, and bashing 280-character messages one after the other in passionate discussions online. As always, we will build a narrative, our narrative, in which we put our best untarnished face forward, and polish the parts we find lackluster. Those parts that harm our righteousness, our place on the right side of history that keeps on not ending (?). Let them find a storyteller as good as ours (or even better) on their side. Someone that makes them fight the good fight. No side will listen to the other’s narrative. After all, that was never the intent. It was always for domestic consumption. So, let’s banish their food, art, and all sorts of culture. Cut their access to ours. What about the people? Well, nurture dissidents, demonize the rest. In any case, exploit them both. The war machine has started its movement and needs fuel, for the journey is most likely long and the path hardly inscrutable. The hearts and minds need to be kept in check and mobilized. Along the way, the truth bleeds out, and the people on the other side become a blob. An amalgamation in which everyone loses their own identity and become a mouthpiece for the regime. No one is innocent, not even the sensible truth in between.