Ever since its emergence as the successor state to the Soviet Union, modern Russia has been meticulously crafting its national narrative. It promotes a sense of cultural grandeur and an unwavering belief in the significance of traditions, family, and heritage. However, this narrative is marred by implicit biases, subtly instigating resentment towards neighboring countries, notably Ukraine, the West, and marginalized communities, specifically the LGBT community.

Social scientists define implicit biases as unconscious attitudes or stereotypes that unintentionally influence our comprehension, actions, and decisions. They are developed over time through consistent exposure to particular ideologies or narratives.

Numerous studies have confirmed the potency of these implicit biases. They have proven to influence behaviors and attitudes, even when individuals consciously reject these biases. And while there is little direct correlation between implicit biases and individual actions, on a macro scale the correlation becomes evident and rather striking. In Russia’s case — the historical portrayal of a glorified russia, coupled with an antagonistic view of its neighbors and the West, has cemented these biases, largely contributing to the immense support by Russians for the invasive war against Ukraine.

To paint a more vivid picture, I’ll share my own experience. I was born in Russia to a Ukrainian-Jewish father and a Russian mother. My family is highly academic, and our family friends were mainly professors and generally well-educated individuals who showed no signs of chauvinism or racism. However, when I moved to Ukraine at the age of 13, my aversion to the Ukrainian language was intense. Only much later did I manage to identify a few sources of this disdain — like the offensive cursing words in the street slang we used in russia, which turned out to be ordinary Ukrainian words.

All of this indicates that Russian culture is deeply interwoven with the USSR/Russian agenda. Even when Russians appear to be integrating into Western societies, they might unconsciously perpetuate harmful stereotypes and attitudes towards Ukraine, the West, and marginalized communities. Does this make all russian cultural achievements fake? Certainly not. But in the current context, any endorsement of anything russian implicitly supports these harmful stereotypes.

This raises a complex philosophical question: Are there no ‘good Russians’? And should the West not aid them?

This leads us to the theory of the snowball effect.

The snowball effect theory posits that social change necessitates a critical mass of support, around 25%, within a given population. Anything less, and the momentum required for change becomes unattainable.

Applying this theory to the current situation suggests that the emigration of Russians who disagree with their government’s actions might unintentionally decelerate the pace of change within the country. By depleting the group of potentially reform-minded individuals, the likelihood of reaching the critical 25% threshold needed for instigating meaningful social change diminishes.

These arguments venture into ethically precarious territory. However, the situation seems rather clear-cut. If you support Russian culture or Russian businesses, you are reinforcing the idea of Russia’s irreplaceability and greatness, and thereby bolstering the corresponding implicit biases. If you welcome russian tourists, you are introducing these biases into your societies. And if you accept russian refugees, you inadvertently enable the oppressive regime to remain powerful.

I believe that this will eventually change. But for now, if you want to help the civilized world, Ukraine, and the good Russians, there seems to be only one solution: renounce all things Russian.