Key points from FilterLabs’ analysis:
Yesterday the New York Times published an article focused on our analysis on declining Russian sentiment toward President Putin. The article also referenced our recent identification of a Russian propaganda campaign in its border region that has provided unique insights into its information operations strategy. Today, we take a look at that campaign.
Our analysis first detected the start of a Russian propaganda campaign based on three key indicators:
Then our Talisman platform revealed that three distinct phases of the campaign had emerged:
As fighting rages on the ground in southern Kursk, FilterLabs has been monitoring developments along the front lines of the information war as well.
The Kremlin takes active measures to influence the information sphere all the time, but given how much is published every day—both in traditional news outlets and on social media platforms—these campaigns can be hard to spot and track. In the past few days, however, FilterLabs has identified a new Kremlin information operation. By analyzing its content and spread, we can learn more about the Kremlin’s media capabilities and their mode of responding to a crisis.
Starting a few days after the Ukrainian incursion into Kursk, FilterLabs noticed a certain term popping up in Russian media, both in Kursk and in other regions bordering Ukraine. That term was “CIPsO” (in Russian, “ЦИПсО”) :
CIPsO is an acronym for Ukraine’s Center for Information and Psychological Operations. It is the division of the Ukrainian special forces responsible for information and psychological warfare. As can be seen in the chart above, the term was not at all common in Russian online discourse in the months leading up to the Ukrainian counteroffensive, having last spiked during the Ukraine’s incursion into Belgorod in March. Then, quite suddenly, it was turning up everywhere—in mainstream news sources and on social media.
After the FilterLabs team recognized the sudden appearance of CIPsO in the discourse, we used our data platform Talisman to take a closer look at individual news stories and social media posts to see what people and news outlets were saying.
We have three reasons for determining that a Kremlin information campaign is afoot. First, a sudden spike in volume for a certain word, especially a technical term, suggests that someone is feeding it into the information ecosystem. Second, this particular term (CIPsO) is not just any technical acronym but a military term. The closest equivalent in English is probably the US military term psy-ops, short for “psychological operations.” CIPsO is not typically a term tossed about by ordinary journalists, especially those in Russia’s regions, and social media users; as can be seen in the graph above, it is quite uncommon. Its sudden appearance strongly suggests coordination with the Russian state. CIPsO had become a catch-all term, perhaps even a lighting rod, to focus Russians’ attention and fears on the possibility of Ukrainian disinformation about the war.
The third reason is the content of the news stories and social media posts that used the term. The warnings about CIPsO did not appear alone. Instead, they were folded into larger stories and announcements that all sounded the same defiant, patriotic themes.
In the immediate aftermath of the Ukrainian counteroffensive, articles and posts in Russia’s border regions referred to CIPsO and warned Russian citizens to be on the lookout for Ukrainian subterfuge–in other words, alleged counterpropaganda. Stories appeared prominently on local outlets like kursk-news.net.
For example, residents in the Kurchatov and the Kurchatovsky districts of the Kursk region were allegedly receiving calls “from people claiming to be Russian authorities” who were telling them they needed to evacuate the area, because a Ukrainian takeover of the Kursk nuclear power plant was imminent. But, readers were assured, “these calls are organized by employees of the Ukrainian information channels of the Center for Information and Psychological Operations.”
Another narrative concerned computer-generated “deep fakes.” One article showed a video of Alexei Smirnov, acting governor of the Kursk region, calling on men over 18 to report to military recruitment offices. (An emergency recruitment drive could sow panic—if the governor is calling for troops, then the situation must be dire.) The article labeled the video fake, and offered a quick lesson: “Alexei Smirnov's ‘Appeal’ is a deepfake made with the help of a neural network from a real recording of the speech of the head of the region. Signs of a fake are easy to see: unnatural lip movements and a monotonous “mechanical voice.” The article recommended that readers view another, genuine video of the governor. That way they could see the differences clearly and learn what to look for in the future.
Several articles about the deep fake included references and/or links to a particular Telegram channel called “War on Fakes.” In fact, much of the information on supposed Ukrainian propaganda could be traced to Telegram channels like “War on Fakes,” which has over half a million subscribers. This appears to be a feature of the Kremlin media strategy. Messaging farmed as “fact checking” originates on online social platforms—some of them Kremlin-controlled or Kremlin-aligned—and then enters the local news media ecosystem.
By August 8, there were full listicles on Ukrainian psy-ops. One article included five alleged bits of Ukrainian disinformation. “Fake:” it read, “Vladimir Putin announced mobilization. Such information appeared in some Russian Telegram channels. Fact: The President and the leadership of the Ministry of Defense have repeatedly stated that another mobilization is not planned.” Once again, the article referred readers to the “War on Fakes” Telegram channel. “Subscribe to the ‘War on Fakes,’ so as not to be deceived.”
There were also individual articles fact-checking new alleged CIPsO operations. Belgorod residents were receiving spurious evacuation orders, one article reported. There were false reports about attacks on an airfield in Voronezh, and somebody was putting up signs in front of houses in Rylsk, saying that it would soon return to Ukrainian rule.
The Russian journalist (and close Putin ally) Sergei Markov complained about Ukrainian bots and trolls in the comments section of his articles. “You know that my comments have always been full of ukro-bots,” he wrote, “But these days, ukro-bots and trolls have begun to outpace even super-active prostitutes…Achievement of the Cipso of Ukraine.”
The real development in the narrative, however, was that the Kremlin stopped only playing defense and started its own messaging offensive. News articles still referred to CIPsO operations (consistently assumed to have the intent of deceiving the Russian public), but placed them in the larger context of Russian efforts to drive out the invaders. As one headline put it, “The Russian Military Courageously Confronts the Neo-Nazis who Attacked the Kursk Region.” Although Kiev was “spreading disinformation through the resources of Ukrainian CIPsO,” the Russian military was responding: “Retaliatory strikes are delivered against the enemy. Large-scale retaliation for the attack on the Kursk region causes huge damage to the enemy.”
Reports that elite “Akhmat” troops had surrendered were declared to be fake. On the contrary, “Russian fighters of the Akhmat special forces, who allegedly surrendered to the Armed Forces of Ukraine in the battles on the Kursk border, ‘fight like lions.’”
At this point, FilterLabs found news articles that incorporated mentions of CIPsO into narratives about Russia’s (glorious) efforts to roll back Ukrainian gains. For example, the lede of one article read: “The battle for the Russian border area continues against the backdrop of fakes about mobilization. Powerful artillery duels are underway, the enemy attacks in mobile groups, but rolls back.”
These kinds of articles had hallmarks of propaganda recognizable from the Soviet period. While reporting rather bad news, the articles also called for “war to a victorious end” and “unity at the flag,” and labeled the enemies inhuman and controlled by some malign (implicitly Western) force. This technique used to be known as the “rotten herring” in Soviet propaganda manuals: tossing in a little truth—yes, there was a Ukrainian invasion—while also saying what one wants to say about the enemy. Stories also emphasized positive information. Russian troops were allegedly deterring Ukrainian advances and even retaking territory. But the statements were so vague that they could be neither confirmed nor refuted.
Reports also sought to portray the Ukrainians as simultaneously invaders and weaklings: “Meanwhile, the morale of the Ukrainian troops sent to the Kursk "meat grinder" continues to fall rapidly. So, the day before, 24 fighters from Ukrainian units surrendered to the Russian army in this direction at once. Moreover, they surrendered in an organized manner: they contacted the Russian military through channels on social networks, agreed and safely laid down their arms.”
The goal of this line of Kremlin propaganda was visible when FilterLabs looked at sentiment scores for articles that mentioned CIPsO:
One might expect sentiment in stories about Ukrainian psy-ops to be negative. But on the contrary, sentiment rose. Why? The more sophisticated sentiment analyzers do more than just count up negative or positive words. FilterLabs’ analysis judges an article, comment, or social media post’s overall tone and emotional thrust. In this case, the Russian news stories and Kremlin-friendly social media sites were discussing CIPsO while emphasizing the resilience of the Russian armed forces, and the people of Kursk, in the face of these attacks. Think of the way even grim situations can be presented in inspiring ways, like the best of Churchill’s speeches (“we shall fight them on the beaches,” and so on).
Starting around August 20, FilterLabs detected a new tone in the coverage of the Kursk region. Articles still warned about CIPsO attacks and praised the Russian military, but they also seemed designed to prepare the local population for a long fight. One article, by a journalist named Anna Skripka, was downright flowery about the task:
The flashes and rumble in the night sky over Belgorod only vaguely resemble thunderstorms. The deadly shells over Belgorod are turned into charred fragments by the precise strikes of the valiant defenders' air defense systems. They fall from the sky like hot stones, and I know I won't sleep until the pinkish August dawn, before heading off to Kursk as usual. Thus begins another day of this new fiery battle: since August 6th, when the enemy treacherously began to wreak havoc on our land, the world for all of us living in the regions of the Kursk Bulge has changed irrevocably. And we have changed with it.
Another article, from the same website, sounded similar themes:
Kursk is a city with a special history and spirit that cannot be broken. The streets smell of fresh bread, people are in a hurry to work, the café is noisy—life goes on as usual, despite the troubled times. The Red Square of the city, as always, is beautiful and hospitable. Even theatrical life has not stopped here, libraries are working. Train stations meet guests, football is played at the stadium, classes will soon begin at universities. But sometimes a siren is heard—this reminds you of the need to be vigilant. Kursk does not give up. The city stands firm.
There was a clear effort to normalize the state of affairs, even while insisting that of course the Russian military would prevail eventually.
Everyone knows the Kremlin engages in “active measures,” including propaganda, but it can be hard to tell exactly what they are doing, given the tremendous amount of information that appears in mainstream and social media sources each day.
But through a combination of AI, sentiment analysis, and subject matter expertise, FilterLabs has been able to detect the Kremlin’s latest information campaign in Kursk, and gain insight into how the Kremlin’s propaganda machine works.
First comes counterpropaganda. Through social media sites and friendly local news sources, the Kremlin ostensibly sought to counter alleged Ukrainian psy-ops. But you can’t win by playing defense forever. The second phase was to present good news (Russian strikes against the invaders are doing tremendous damage, etc.). Then, if the news on the ground remains bad, with the Ukrainians still striking targets within Russia, a new phase begins: normalization of the crisis, combined with valorization of the virtue of toughing it out. Yes, things are bad. Maybe they will continue to be bad. But we have survived worse.