To hear the Kremlin tell it, Russian forces are currently engaged in a noble struggle against “fascists” in Ukraine and bullying NATO aggressors, with the U.S. as the primary villain in their version of the tale. To those of us watching vivid images of Russian forces shelling neighborhoods, killing civilians, and destroying Ukrainian infrastructure, this yarn is obviously absurd and infuriating.
But there’s a reason why, from Vladimir Putin to Nicolas Maduro of Venezuela to Bashar al-Assad of Syria, we see totalitarian leaders claim they are under attack even when they arenclearly the instigators of horrific aggression: psychologically, victim narratives work.
From Russia’s point of view, there is evident benefit in deploying a calculated campaign of media propaganda and an army of Twitter bots in support of the far-fetched notion that Russia is under unprovoked assault. Even in the face of overwhelming evidence of culpability, victimhood is powerful. Psychological research reveals that in many conflicts — from geopolitical war, to relationship arguments, to workplace fights — the victims have the upper hand.
The idea that victimhood is a strength seems upside down. True victims not only suffer, but are often despised for their weakness. But while being a victim is challenging, claiming the narrative of victimhood comes with benefits. In an argument with your spouse, it’s difficult to win when the other person starts to cry and argues that they’ve been attacked. It’s the moral trump card.
The most obvious benefit of victimhood is avoiding blame. Studies reveal that, when we witness any altercation, blame is never evenly distributed. We give almost all of it to the person we see as the perpetrator, and none of it to the person we see as the victim. On the playground, when kids get in trouble for fighting, parents want to know “who started it,” so we can decide whom to punish and whom to hug.
Of course, the truth is likely that both kids are to blame, but human minds are not inherently wired to view things that way. We are conditioned to divide the moral world into two camps: villains versus victims. And once people are cast into these roles, they stick, explaining the phenomenon called “moral typecasting” — once a villain, always a villain; once a victim, always a victim.
The stickiness of victimhood is why people point to long-past slights to explain why they acted aggressively years later. It’s certainly true that trauma leaves enduring imprints, but it doesn’t fully excuse bad behavior.
Consider James Iannazzo, the Connecticut man who screamed racial slurs at the teenaged employees of a smoothie shop. The Internet was immediately outraged at his poor treatment of the employees. But in Iannazzo’s mind, the real victim was his young son, who received peanut butter in his smoothie, triggering his severe peanut allergy. In his mind, this justified his treatment of the smoothie shop employees who had inflicted first harm.
Iannazzo reveals an important point: that victimhood is in the mind of the perceiver. Iannazzo — and Putin — can both see themselves as acting defensively. By dwelling on past slights and perceived harms, each of them can feel morally righteous while acting morally wrong.
Putin is clearly an evil man capable of imprisoning, exiling, and poisoning his rivals. But people’s entire psychology can bend around their own convictions, and there is nothing more licensing than the conviction that you are victimized. Every school shooter is united by a common feeling: that they were treated unfairly by the rest of the school. Putin is the global equivalent of a school shooter, transforming grudges into righteous action.
Putin seems to have lost hope of convincing the world of Russian victimization, but there’s one group whose support he needs: his citizenry. He has alleged that Ukrainians are committing genocide on Russian speakers in the Donbas region of Ukraine, and his propaganda portrays Ukrainians as anti-Russian Nazis. But Russian citizens don’t seem to completely buy Putin’s tales of victimization, as evidenced by numerous reports of low army morale, internal anti-war protests, and a mistrust of leadership.
In the end, sowing seeds of doubt into one man’s head (Putin) is what will save lives. But if victimhood is in the eye of the beholder, and renders one blameless, what is the rest of the world to do? How do you convince a dictator, or school shooter, or an irate customer, or your partner, that they may not be the victim they think?
It’s difficult, but there are a few ways. The first is to share your own experience of harm. By revealing how you too are suffering, the other person cannot be so confident in their sole victimhood.
You can also shift their perceptions. If your words and deeds make it clear that you are helping others, it is harder for someone to think that you are a one-dimensional villain, and this increased moral complexity might prompt some soul-searching.
The unfortunate truth is that perceptions of victimhood create a self-sustaining reaction warping the universe around them. The main way out these perceptions is through the mutual desire for a relationship. But at this point it appears to be a tall order to identify Putin’s motivations for rapprochement with Ukraine and the West — and if someone is committed to burning it all down, there is little that can be done except marshal forces against the threat. Perhaps the only way to stop an aggressor who thinks they are the victim, is to truly make them the victim.
Kurt Gray is an associate professor of Psychology at University of North Carolina. Will Blakey is a research assistant at University of North Carolina.