Russia’s new social studies textbook tells schoolchildren: “Either a patriot or a scoundrel”

The Barents Observer reviewed the textbook and spoke to teachers who are expected to use it. Their verdict is stark: rather than introducing pupils to economics, politics, law and sociology, they say the book presents a highly ideological vision of the world — one in which loyalty to the state is the highest civic virtue and dissent is implicitly suspect.

The message begins from the very first page.

There, pupils are shown a map of Russia that includes the Ukrainian city of Kherson among Russian cities. Although Russian forces occupied Kherson in the opening months of the full-scale invasion, Ukrainian troops retook the city in November 2022, in an operation widely reported even by Russian state media. Since then, Kherson has never returned to Russian control.

Most pupils are unlikely to notice the small dot marking the city. The children who will study from this textbook were around 11 years old when the battle for Kherson took place. Yet the map serves as an introduction to a broader theme that runs throughout the book: students are repeatedly encouraged either to ignore realities they can observe for themselves or to interpret them through the lens of the Russian state.

Published by Prosveshchenie-Soyuz in 2026, the textbook has already begun circulating among teachers in electronic form. Although it was not available for purchase on the publisher's website when reviewed by the Barents Observer, teachers say it is expected to become a standard text in schools from the next academic year.

The book's chief editor is Dmitry Medvedev, the former Russian president and current deputy chairman of the Security Council. In recent years, Medvedev has become known less for his time in office than for his increasingly inflammatory Telegram posts, in which he routinely attacks critics of the Kremlin, including Russian citizens themselves.

Among the textbook's other prominent contributors are Vladimir Medinsky and Egor Kholmogorov.

Kholmogorov is a nationalist writer and commentator who hosts programmes on pro-Kremlin media outlets and lectures at Moscow State University. Until recently, however, he did not possess a university degree. In 2025 he graduated from Voronezh Pedagogical University and, shortly afterwards, became one of the authors of a school textbook.

Medinsky, meanwhile, is one of Vladimir Putin's best-known political allies. A former Minister of Culture, he also headed Russia's delegation during negotiations with Ukraine following the full-scale invasion. Although he holds a doctorate in history, his dissertation attracted controversy because of what critics described as its ideological approach and weak academic foundations.

In the introduction to his thesis, Medinsky argued that Russia's national interests should serve as the ultimate measure of historical truth.

That same principle appears to underpin the new textbook.

Russia, the West and a “Multipolar World”

One of the book's central themes is the struggle between Russia and what it calls the “collective West”.

An entire chapter is devoted to “Russia, Western Civilisation and the Multipolar World”, presenting geopolitics largely through the worldview promoted by the Kremlin.

“Attempts by Western countries to retain leadership on the planet lead them to undermine the sovereignty of other states,” the authors write.

Elsewhere, they claim that Western powers sought to transform Russia into “a periphery of their civilisation” through economic and cultural influence.

Sanctions receive repeated attention throughout the text. They are described as illegal but ultimately beneficial because they supposedly encourage Russia to develop technological self-sufficiency.

Russia, meanwhile, is portrayed as humanity's defender against Western domination.

“Russia has taken upon itself the mission of leading the establishment of a new world order based on multipolarity,” the textbook states.

The word “multipolarity” — one of Vladimir Putin's preferred political concepts — appears repeatedly. Corruption, by contrast, is discussed only briefly.

The book's other major pillar is the concept of traditional values.

“We share the traditional values of our society, we are proud of its history, we feel ourselves to be Russians,” the authors declare in the opening pages.

These values include honesty, truthfulness, respect for the law, patriotism, self-sacrifice, mercy, chastity and respect for elders.

At the centre of this value system stands the family.

The textbook defines the family exclusively as a union between a man and a woman in which children obey their parents and younger family members defer to their elders. One photograph carries the caption: “A large family means three children or more. Better still — more.”

The discussion quickly returns to the West.

According to the authors, Western countries seek to impose alien values on other societies through same-sex marriage, gender transition and broader social liberalisation.

These developments are presented not merely as cultural differences but as tools of geopolitical competition.

“If you want to reduce the population of your opponent, apply informational pressure on the family,” the textbook claims. “If you seek to undermine the fighting spirit of its army, deprive patriotism of meaning.”

According to the authors, such methods are being used not only against Russia but also against other countries that the West regards as competitors.

The same logic is applied to political upheavals abroad.

The democratic movements that transformed Georgia, Kyrgyzstan and Ukraine in the early 2000s are described as “colour revolutions” orchestrated from outside. Ukraine's current government is characterised as an “aggressively nationalist regime” that allegedly seeks to destroy the Russian language, culture and historical memory.

For Mikhail Kopitsa, a teacher originally from Arkhangelsk who now lives in Germany, the textbook reflects a distinctly state-centred worldview.

“The overall concept is a state-centred discourse that, for some reason, is called patriotic,” he told the Barents Observer.

“The right of Russia to pursue an independent path is constantly presented as a virtue. In almost every chapter there is an opposition between Russia and the West. Russia represents order, stability and clarity, while the West represents arbitrariness and destruction. It is an oversimplification that replaces genuine knowledge.”

Kopitsa believes the book will one day serve as an important historical document.

“It allows us to reconstruct the system of views that the Kremlin is attempting to instil in teenagers,” he said.

“The idea conveyed throughout is that political and economic stability depends on loyalty. Loyalty becomes the highest civic virtue. Teachers shaped by the Soviet educational tradition will find this very familiar.”

“Before the Outside World, We Are All Russians”

From criticism of Western colonialism, the textbook moves seamlessly to Russia's own imperial expansion — but in strikingly different terms.

Where Western powers are portrayed as exploiters, Russian expansion is presented as an almost entirely benevolent process. Pupils are taught that the growth of the Russian state brought security, prosperity and opportunity to the peoples it absorbed.

“Many peoples joined Russia voluntarily, seeking protection from dangerous neighbours or striving for the benefits of coexistence within a great state,” the textbook explains. “Even those peoples who initially resisted incorporation into the Russian Empire soon came to understand the advantages of unity with Russia.”

The familiar language of empire is largely absent. Conquest becomes integration; domination becomes protection.

Officially, the textbook stresses that Russia is a multinational country in which all ethnic groups are equal. Yet the emphasis repeatedly falls on the special role of ethnic Russians as the state's core nation.

One quotation included in the book is particularly revealing. Attributed to Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte, a marshal in Napoleon's army, it reads: “Imitate the Russians. Nothing is impossible for them.”

The source is not provided. Nevertheless, the quotation has long been popular in the writings of co-author Egor Kholmogorov and serves as a neat encapsulation of the book's broader message.

The authors appear largely unconcerned by the fact that not every pupil studying the textbook will fit comfortably into this narrative.

“We were born in Russia. We resemble our ancestors who lived here for centuries,” one passage declares.

But what about children whose families arrived recently from Central Asia, the Caucasus or elsewhere?

The textbook offers a simple answer: “Before the outside world, we are all Russians.”

The phrase reflects a recurring tension within the book. On the one hand, Russia is presented as a harmonious multinational state. On the other, Russianness itself is repeatedly elevated as the defining political and cultural identity to which everyone else is expected to assimilate.

A War Present Through Its Absence

Despite the central role the war in Ukraine plays in contemporary Russian politics, the conflict appears surprisingly infrequently in the textbook.

When it does appear, it is often indirectly.

In a section on economics, for example, pupils are informed that inflation rose in 2022 because of a “difficult international situation”. The invasion itself is never mentioned.

Likewise, students are encouraged to view military service positively because it develops discipline, strengthens character and can provide professional advantages later in life. The reality of an ongoing war remains largely absent from the discussion.

Yet while combat receives relatively little attention, the political consequences of the invasion are woven throughout the book.

Photographs and illustrations normalise Russia's occupation of Ukrainian territories. One image shows residents of Simferopol voting in the referendum that Moscow used to justify the annexation of Crimea. Another depicts the Russian coat of arms in Melitopol. A third shows a resident of Donetsk displaying a Saint George ribbon after receiving a Russian passport in 2022.

The cumulative effect is subtle but unmistakable. Occupation is not presented as a matter of dispute or conflict. It is treated as an established reality.

Particular significance is attached to the Saint George ribbon.

Originally distributed before Victory Day celebrations, the black-and-orange ribbon has evolved over the past two decades into one of the most recognisable symbols of Russian patriotism and militarism. During the conflict in eastern Ukraine in 2014, pro-Russian separatists adopted it as a political emblem. Since then, it has become closely associated with Russia's military campaigns.

The textbook presents the ribbon in unequivocally positive terms.

“The campaign acquired special significance after 2014,” the authors write, “when it became a symbol of defenders of the Russian language and Russian identity in their opposition to neo-Nazis in Ukraine and the Baltic states.”

The text goes on to claim that people in those countries were fined, assaulted and even killed for wearing it.

No alternative interpretations are offered.

For Oksana, a history and social studies teacher from Kursk whose name has been changed for security reasons, passages like these fundamentally misunderstand the purpose of the subject.

“This is a mixture of Soviet-style agitprop and posts from Medvedev's Telegram channel,” she told the Barents Observer.

“In principle, a social studies textbook for this age group should introduce students to economics, political science, sociology and law. It should explain how society functions, how institutions work and how power is organised. It should encourage critical thinking.”

Instead, she argues, the textbook repeatedly returns to the same ideological message.

“The idea that Russia is flourishing while the West is decaying — that simply isn't what social studies is supposed to teach.”

The Contradictions Students Are Expected to Ignore

The textbook repeatedly asks pupils to accept claims that appear difficult to reconcile with everyday experience.

In one chapter, students are told that modern technology has expanded personal freedom. Using computers and smartphones, they can purchase train tickets, pay bills, contact friends through video calls and access a vast range of information.

Many pupils will read those words while using VPN services to access websites and applications that have been blocked by Russian authorities.

Elsewhere, the textbook justifies state control over information by declaring that “loss of control over the information space is equivalent to loss of state sovereignty”.

Yet only a few pages earlier, students are informed that one of the central principles of Russia's Information Society Development Strategy is freedom to choose how knowledge is obtained.

The contradiction goes unexplained.

Another chapter tells pupils that they enjoy freedom of conscience and freedom of expression.

In theory, this is true. The rights are guaranteed by the Russian Constitution.

In practice, many pupils have already learned otherwise.

“Most teenagers are genuinely surprised when they discover that citizens have a constitutional right to organise rallies, demonstrations and pickets,” Oksana said.

“They assume such activities are completely prohibited.”

She often discusses these questions with her students.

“I explain that, legally speaking, I can notify the authorities about a demonstration and then go out carrying whatever sign I choose.”

One discussion unexpectedly turned to Russian literature.

“I said that Alexander Pushkin would probably have been designated a foreign agent today. After all, he wrote about the Decembrists and sympathised with rebels.”

Her students immediately spotted the contradiction.

“Then why do we study him in school?” they asked.

Questions like these expose the growing gap between the legal rights described in textbooks and the realities many young Russians observe around them.

The new social studies textbook offers few tools for exploring that gap.

Instead, it largely asks pupils to accept official narratives at face value.

“Either a Patriot or a Scoundrel”

Near the end of the textbook, pupils are invited to reflect on a line from a nineteenth-century Russian play:

“There are only two kinds of people: either a patriot of your Fatherland or a scoundrel of your life.”

The exercise appears to encourage discussion. Yet teachers who reviewed the book argue that genuine debate is precisely what the textbook leaves little room for.

“The assignment is essentially fake,” said Mikhail Kopitsa. “Like most of the tasks in the book, it creates the appearance of discussion without actually allowing it.”

According to him, the textbook's central problem lies not in any single political statement but in its overall approach to knowledge.

“A school textbook should help develop critical thinking. This one provides many exercises, but they are imitative. The conclusions have already been decided in advance.”

Throughout the book, complex political and social questions are presented in a directive tone. Students are rarely asked to evaluate competing arguments or consider alternative interpretations.

“Everything is framed as something that must simply be learned,” Kopitsa said. “I found myself thinking there ought to be a section at the back with the correct answers, like in a mathematics workbook.”

For Oksana, the practical challenge is even more immediate.

She will be expected to teach from the textbook.

“This is not really a textbook,” she said. “There is no clear methodology. You cannot prepare students for examinations with it. It lacks structure. Everything is mixed together.”

The result, she argues, is a book that struggles even to fulfil its most basic educational function.

“What exactly am I supposed to explain? That living in a family is good and not having a family is bad?”

The repeated emphasis on conservative social values strikes her as particularly revealing.

“Several times the book stresses that a family is a union between a man and a woman. It's as though I'm expected to stand in front of the class and say: ‘Look, unlike in the West.’”

A Classroom Under Pressure

The publication of the new textbook comes against the backdrop of a broader transformation of Russian education that began after the full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022.

Since then, schools have become an increasingly important vehicle for state messaging.

Patriotic lessons known as Conversations About Important Things have been introduced across the country. Pupils have been encouraged to write letters to soldiers serving in Ukraine. New teaching materials emphasising patriotism, military service and traditional values have steadily appeared in classrooms.

Teachers interviewed by the Barents Observer say the cumulative effect is becoming increasingly visible.

“Teaching social studies is turning into a difficult and sometimes dangerous profession,” Oksana said.

She recalled a conversation with a colleague teaching final-year pupils.

“The topic was Perestroika and Mikhail Gorbachev. My colleague admitted she was genuinely afraid to discuss it.”

The concern did not come from school administrators.

It came from the students.

“There are pupils who are extremely patriotic and who see Gorbachev as a traitor and an agent of the West,” Oksana explained. “After one lesson, a student approached her and warned her to be careful because somebody might report her.”

Such incidents illustrate how political pressures increasingly operate not only from above but also within the classroom itself.

The atmosphere, teachers say, encourages caution and self-censorship.

Subjects that once formed part of ordinary historical discussion can suddenly become politically sensitive.

An Experiment on a Generation

Both teachers interviewed for this article expressed particular concern about the youngest pupils now passing through the Russian education system.

Children who entered school after 2022 have experienced an environment fundamentally different from that of previous generations.

From their earliest years in education, they have been exposed to a steady stream of state-sponsored patriotic messaging. The new textbook is merely the latest addition.

According to Oksana, the internet remains one of the few significant counterweights.

“As long as people can access the internet — even through VPNs — it disrupts this agenda,” she said.

But she worries about what may happen if those channels disappear.

“If access to the global internet is eventually cut off, an ideologically prepared majority could emerge.”

Kopitsa shares those concerns.

A few years ago, he believed schools played only a limited role in shaping political attitudes. Young people, he argued, were exposed to countless alternative sources of information online.

The war changed that assessment.

“Against the backdrop of growing censorship and periodic internet shutdowns, I have come to a different conclusion,” he said.

What is happening in Russian schools today, he argues, goes far beyond a debate about curriculum design.

“We are witnessing an unprecedented experiment in the ideological stupefaction of an entire generation.”

The consequences may not be immediately visible. Educational systems work slowly, shaping attitudes over years rather than months.

Yet Kopitsa fears the long-term effects could prove profound.

“If this continues for any significant length of time, we are unlikely to like the outcome.”

The textbook, he says, should not be viewed in isolation.

Rather, it forms part of a much broader political and cultural project.

“This book is just another brick in the wall. Combined with everything else we can already observe — the increasing conformity, the pressure to demonstrate loyalty, the narrowing of public debate — it points in a very troubling direction.”

The pupils who open this textbook in September may encounter it as just another school subject.

For its critics, however, it represents something much larger: an attempt not merely to educate a generation, but to shape the way it understands the world.