Conspiratorial Narratives and Ideological Constructs in the Russia–Ukraine Conflict: From the New World Order to the Golden Billion Theories

Abstract

This article explores the pervasive influence of conspiracy theories, specifically the New World Order (NWO) and Golden Billion theories, within the context of the ongoing conflict between Russia and Ukraine. These theories form key narrative frameworks in Russian state media and global conspiracy communities, shaping perceptions of geopolitical events. This study dissects four pivotal episodes within the Russia–Ukraine conflict to illustrate how conspiracy theories shape public perception and policy direction, further entrenching ideological divides. In the first episode of the 2022 full-scale invasion, narratives of the Golden Billion were utilised to justify the attack, presenting Russia as a bastion against the Western elite’s plans to dominate the global economy and resources. The second episode examines the attack on Mariupol in 2022, framed by Russian propaganda as a necessary act to thwart the supposed expansion of NATO and the EU, underpinned by the NWO agenda aiming to dilute Russian influence in Eastern Europe. The third episode analyses the Nord Stream pipeline sabotage in 2022, interpreted by some conspiracy theorists as an act by the NWO to destabilise Europe’s energy security, thus consolidating control over energy routes and resources. The fourth episode delves into the 2024 Moscow terrorist attacks, which were seen by some as either a false flag operation conducted by Western powers or as a legitimate repercussion of Western encroachment orchestrated to weaken Russia’s resolve and international standing. Each episode is contextualised within a broader conspiratorial framework, highlighting the dualistic nature of the NWO and Golden Billion theories that paint the conflict not merely as territorial disputes but as a clash between fundamentally opposing worldviews and global orders. This narrative analysis not only underscores the role of conspiracy theories in shaping geopolitical discourse but also demonstrates their utility in mobilising domestic support, framing international criticism, and justifying military actions. Our findings suggest that these conspiratorial narratives provide a resilient, albeit misleading, lens through which supporters of the Kremlin’s policies can rationalise the war, attributing complex sociopolitical dynamics to the malevolent machinations of a global elite. This study contributes to understanding how modern conflicts are interpreted through ancient conspiratorial lenses, impacting national and international policy and public opinion.

1. Introduction

In January 1991, then US President George H. W. Bush announced the commencement of military operations known as Desert Storm in Iraq during the Gulf War1. Although he was not the first, his speech articulated a vision for a “new world order” characterised by the predominance of law over chaotic governance, envisioning a robust United Nations capable of undertaking peacekeeping missions to realise the aspirations and ideals of its founders (Spark 2000). This speech symbolised the culmination of the Cold War, reflecting an updated international relations landscape where the US, as the dominant superpower, was poised to assume an unprecedented role (Freedman 1991).

However, this vision provoked suspicion among some Americans, who perceived it as the first acknowledgement by their leader of his involvement in a global conspiracy to establish a new world order that would compromise US sovereignty and subordinate the nation to UN authority. These apprehensions, long harboured by the American far-right, found validation following Bush’s proclamation (Barkun 2013).

Simultaneously, the global structure was undergoing significant changes: Mikhail Gorbachev’s reforms precipitated the decline of the ageing Soviet regime, leading to the dissolution of the Soviet Union and the Warsaw Pact and plunging the newly formed Russian Federation into severe economic and political turmoil (Zubok 2021). While these developments were strategically advantageous for the United States, they also imposed profound psychological strain, rendering the binary Cold War narrative of good versus evil obsolete and catalysing a resurgence in conspiratorial thinking (Barkun 2013; Yablokov 2018).

Among the plethora of conspiracy theories that surfaced, the New World Order (NWO) concept quickly gained traction in the Western world. The phrase “New World Order” had previously been used by politicians like Woodrow Wilson and Winston Churchill to describe a hoped-for era of peace and global cooperation after the World Wars (Butter 2012). However, from the 1970s onwards, a small group of conspiracy theorists began to reinterpret the term as indicative of an international plot aimed at eroding civil liberties, abolishing Christianity, and imposing martial law in the United States (Butter 2012). For these theorists, President Bush’s use of the phrase confirmed their fears that the conspiracy was bold enough to signal its plans publicly, albeit subtly. This theory posits that a secret world government has long been manipulating global affairs and is steadily increasing its influence. Like most conspiracy theories, the “New World Order” has evolved into various versions, sometimes complementing and sometimes contradicting each other. Different interpretations blame groups such as the Illuminati, the Bilderberg Group, Wall Street Jews, the Trilateral Commission, the Council on Foreign Relations, the military–industrial complex, or British bankers (Butter 2012). The theory’s persistence and adaptability are attributed to its ability to provide an overarching explanation for the profound global changes that occurred between 1989 and 1991, casting them as the culmination of a long-standing plot (Barkun 2013).

At the same time, this concept permeated various factions within Russia’s conspiracy circles (Bratich 2008). This notion of a centralised global power structure struck a chord in the post-Soviet context, echoing concerns about the unchecked dominance of the United States in global politics and its implications for Russia’s international role. Since its inception, the New World Order conspiracy theory has evolved, merging with or being countered by another conspiracy theory originating from Russia, the Golden Billion (Zolotoj Milliard) (Borenstein 2019)2. The Golden Billion theory posits that a small, privileged segment of the global population—primarily in Western countries—hoards most of the world’s resources, leaving the rest of humanity struggling with scarcity. This theory reflects deep-seated anxieties about global inequality and Western dominance. Within Russian public discourse, the Golden Billion (GB) theory increasingly intersects with the established NWO conspiracy, enhancing its influence and reach within Russian society3. This narrative amalgamates enduring Soviet-era fears of mind control and external manipulation with contemporary anxieties regarding technological and biological threats, such as vaccines and genetically modified organisms (Deutschmann et al. 2020). These old and new conspiratorial fears suggest an ongoing evolution and continuity of distrust toward global elites and their purported agendas to dominate the world.

In contemporary Russia, conspiracy theories manifest in two primary, intertwined forms: official and grassroots. Official theories, integral to Russia’s ideological and civic frameworks, aim to unify the nation and reinforce the political system by emphasising the division between “traditional values” and the “corrupt West”. While somewhat aligned with official narratives, grassroots theories generally exhibit a profound mistrust of institutions, suggesting that global elites—including Russian ones—are engaged in widespread government and corporate collusion (Panin 2022).

The beliefs of the Russian populace reflect a complex interplay between historical and present-day fears, encapsulating a broader societal trend where traditional distrust of external powers merges with modern global conspiracy theories (Cherkaev 2022). The contemporary expression of Russian conspiracy thought draws from various sources, including Cold War-era propaganda, critical French literature on Freemasonry, perspectives of traditional Russian Orthodox scholars, and the works of North American Christian authors (Panin 2022). The widespread acceptance of such narratives, including among those with high social standing, demonstrates how deeply these ideas have penetrated Russian social circles and become embedded in the social fabric, reflecting a broader existential unease that transcends individual or isolated groups (Cherkaev 2022).

The intersection of the GB with the NWO theory underscores a deeper, more pervasive wariness of global integration and the intentions of world powers, shaping how individuals and communities perceive their control over their lives and futures. The narrative of the GB has progressively shifted from the fringes to the mainstream, now serving as a grim lens through which some Russians view the stark realities of their neoliberal environment. These theories have found a foothold among various Russian political factions, appealing to nationalist, pro-Kremlin thinkers as well as far-right, antisemitic activists who oppose Kremlin policies. This narrative has also taken root among the disenfranchised, educated, and otherwise rational individuals (Cherkaev 2022), and these theories, initially deemed far-fetched, have begun to resonate more broadly as explanations for many socioeconomic challenges.

2. Conspiracy Narratives and Ideological Conflict

In the early 20th century, modern Russian conspiracy theories, tracing back to European myths of a secretive Jewish and Freemasonic group allegedly intent on dismantling monarchies and Christianity and linked to Satanism4, took root within the conservative Russian Orthodox community (Panin 2022). Sergei Nilus was a key figure in spreading these ideas, known for publishing “The Protocols of the Elders of Zion” (Poliakov 1987)5. Initially circulated in Russian in 1905 and later in English in 1920, this document claimed to reveal a secret Jewish plot to control the world. Although it was soon debunked as a forgery, it remained influential, particularly among Russian emigrants struggling with the aftermath of the 1917 revolution and the collapse of the Russian Empire (Barkun 2013). “The Protocols of the Elders of Zion” are highly adaptable, evolving to target various perceived societal threats by substituting “Jews” with comparable groups (Yablokov 2019; Livers 2020). These conspiracy narratives often involve secretive groups with hidden power, which remain elusive to outsiders, reinforcing fears and prejudices within these communities (Barkun 2013).

During the Cold War, conspiracy thinking became embedded in official ideologies, with the United States and its allies often cast as the primary conspirators (Yablokov 2018). This period was marked by a binary division of the world, reinforcing a Manichean perspective—a hallmark of conspiracy theories—as the US confronted the “atheist” Soviet bloc, promoting a global democratic vision (Boyer 1992). This narrative framed each superpower as the main adversary of the other, highlighting their roles in an increasingly interconnected global landscape (Knight 2001). From the mid-1940s, “America” was defined in opposition to the USSR and its notion of totalitarian socialism aimed at achieving complete global dominance (Welch 2016; Yablokov 2020). Simultaneously, “capitalist encirclement” shaped Soviet identity (Vagts 1956; Harris 2024). The alleged moral decay of the Western world became a fundamental theme in Soviet propaganda (Riabov 2017). Such narratives from the Soviet era significantly influenced the conspiracy themes in post-Soviet Russia, persistently focusing on the portrayal of Russia as “encircled” by foes and the “moral decline” of the West, purportedly intent on exporting this decay to undermine traditional values (Panin 2022).

One notable facet of the alleged moral degradation in the West was the proliferation of a new “mysticism” linked to the irrational social relations inherent in capitalist bourgeois societies (Gaufman 2020). This critique of Western mysticism created a paradoxical continuity between Soviet and pre-Soviet narratives. Orthodox thinking depicted socialism as part of a godless plot aimed at dismantling the traditional social order. In contrast, Soviet socialism attacked it for its irrationality and for allegedly bolstering the interests of Western capitalism. Despite this contrast, pre- and post-Soviet ideas considered esotericism and new religious movements as a threat, influencing post-Soviet conspiracy narratives (Panin 2022) until the Russia–Ukraine war (Clark and Vovk 2020).

The historiography of Russian conspiracy theories is profoundly influenced by North American accounts, reflecting a protracted rivalry that has spanned several decades (Borenstein 2019). There appears to be a convergence in conspiracy thinking between the United States and Russia, wherein these former Cold War foes have reached a partial alignment (Livers 2020). This phenomenon, which can be described as an osmotic process in conspiracy formation, shows how the notion of the NWO permeates both nations and their respective allies. This “osmosis” is facilitated by global media networks, social media platforms and the increasing interconnectedness of modern geopolitical events. As conspiracy theories like the NWO or the GB migrate between countries, they adapt to local concerns, fears, and power structures while maintaining core elements of the original narrative. For instance, while the NWO conspiracy originated in the Western world, it has been repurposed in Russia to reflect anxieties about US dominance and global inequality, combining it with elements of the GB theory (Borenstein 2019). This demonstrates how conspiracy theories absorb and reflect the particular sociopolitical conditions of the societies in which they are propagated while reinforcing broader global narratives of elite control and manipulation (Yablokov 2020). Moreover, the NWO concept gained significant momentum during the 1990s, consolidating various conspiracy narratives into a unified, overarching theme. This consolidation facilitated the integration of disparate global events into a unified schema, suggesting a centralised global directive. Such a synthesis not only bolstered the concept’s appeal amongst adherents but also distilled complex international and social transformations into a straightforward, comprehensible plot, thus garnering broader appeal (Barkun 2013).

In Russia, the NWO conspiracy theory provided a framework through which the disintegration of the Soviet regime in 1991 was interpreted as the machinations of a formidable external entity. This interpretation helped articulate a new reality where countless individuals faced unemployment, lost savings, and suffered fatalities. The allure of the NWO theory also extended to its utilisation of rhetorical devices to undermine political legitimacy across the ideological spectrum. Furthermore, it has been employed by regime critics to challenge the legitimacy of Kremlin policies and to galvanise its current strategies. This narrative of government complicity in plots against the populace has become a dominant interpretation amongst far-right groups, influencing perceptions of the Kremlin’s domestic operations (Yablokov 2020).

Within the framework of the NWO (Zaripova et al. 2019), a new conspiracy theory emerged in post-Soviet Russia, originally introduced by A. Kuz’mich (a pseudonym for Anatolii Kuz’mich Tsikunov) in his 1994 publication, “The World Government Conspiracy: Russia and the Golden Billion”. This theory quickly became pivotal to modern Russian conspiratorial ideology (Borenstein 2019). The GB theory posits that the increasing scarcity of resources in developed countries, coupled with the growing demands of their ruling elites, drives this narrative (Zaripova et al. 2019). The GB theory employs Malthusian logic: the term “billion” in this context signifies an optimal global population that the Earth can sustain, while “golden” reflects the elitist nature of this strategy, envisioning a world dominated by the affluent (Borenstein 2019). The theoretical foundation of this idea draws on public statements from influential figures such as Bill Gates, the American businessman and founder of Microsoft, highlighting their perceived endorsement of these elitist strategies (Zaripova et al. 2019).

Contrasting with earlier theories that often relied on flawed social science, the GB theory is grounded in dubious interpretations of natural sciences. It diverges from typical American conspiracy narratives by seriously considering the threat of ecological catastrophes (Borenstein 2019). The theory posits that the strategies of an alleged world government are predicated on the looming threats of global disasters, which extend beyond climate change to encompass overpopulation and resource depletion (Borenstein 2020).

This theory is intricately connected to, and possibly influenced by, established conspiratorial narratives. One such narrative is the “Great Replacement” theory, which suggests that ethnically homogeneous European populations are being systematically “replaced” by non-European individuals (Ekman 2022). Another related narrative is climate change denialism, where proponents of this viewpoint resist efforts to address climate change—accusing climate scientists of falsifying data and misleading the public—because they genuinely disbelieve the validity of anthropogenic climate change (Uscinski et al. 2017).

GB uniquely champions a Russocentric viewpoint. It posits that in the event of global calamity, Russia must prevail while Western powers conspire to thwart this destiny. This narrative elevates the value of Russian territory and frames Russia’s potential struggle as a noble defence against Western aggression, a narrative reminiscent of heroic tales from Russia’s past (Borenstein 2019). On the other hand, this also appears consistent with another grand narrative characterising Russian nationalist mythology, namely that of the so-called “Third Rome”, the extreme bastion defending Western civilisation against barbarism after the fall of imperial Rome and Byzantine Constantinople.

The theory encapsulates several deep-seated concerns within post-Soviet Russia, including protecting national resources from Western exploitation, preventing the moral corruption of Russian youth, and undermining the Russian economy and public health (Zaripova et al. 2019). The prevalence of such views reflects more profound societal anxiety about globalisation and perceived external influences on Russian life and politics (Cherkaev 2022). The idea of the global elite orchestrating world events for nefarious purposes taps into historical fears and contemporary insecurities (Yablokov 2018). GB is not just an abstract theory—it manifests in everyday conversations and how people interpret global and local events. This gradual acceptance of conspiracy theories as potential truths reveals a collective sense of vulnerability and a search for explanations in an increasingly complex world (Cherkaev 2022). This narrative often includes a misattributed quote from Margaret Thatcher about reducing the Russian population to 15 million, intensifying fears of a Russian genocide. This theme has gained additional prominence due to the conflict in Ukraine. Such an outcome would be considered the ultimate catastrophe in a narrative centred around Russia’s survival (Borenstein 2019).

Thus, since 1991, the narrative of the Soviet Union’s collapse and its framing as the work of Western agents became a powerful populist device among nationalist dissenters and Kremlin elites (Fenster 2008). In the administration under Yeltsin, perceived as an American agent aiming to deplete Russia’s population, natural resources, and military capabilities, populist conspiracy theories within parliament led to significant unrest among Kremlin officials (Yablokov 2018). Although the impeachment of Yeltsin was unsuccessful, it demonstrated the destabilising potential of such theories, leading to their strategic deployment in the 2000s as a means to suppress opposition.

These anti-Western conspiracy theories became a fundamental component of President Vladimir Putin’s shift towards authoritarianism. From 2004 onwards, pro-Kremlin elites increasingly portrayed both domestic critics and international adversaries as conspirators intent on toppling Putin’s government. The succession of colour revolutions across post-Soviet states in the mid-2000s raised concerns about a smooth transition of power in 2008, prompting the Kremlin to intensify efforts to identify and neutralise internal threats allegedly linked to Western influences (Yablokov 2018; Rozman and Christoffersen 2023).

During Putin’s second presidential term, the GB theory experienced a revival, particularly after a false quote was attributed to former US Secretary of State Madeleine Albright. This quote, suggesting that Siberia’s abundant natural resources should not belong exclusively to Russia, began circulating widely in 2007. Despite its questionable authenticity, this quote entrenched a narrative within Russia that portrayed the nation as a victim in an ideological conflict with the West. This narrative was frequently echoed by Russian elites and disseminated across various social media platforms, reinforcing Russia’s perception of Western hostility (Borenstein 2020).

The prominence of this theory escalated following Russia’s military actions in Ukraine, where top officials employed it to critique Western policies. In May 2022, Nikolay Patrushev, Secretary of the Security Council, accused the “Anglo-Saxons” of promoting human rights, freedom and democracy superficially while perpetuating the elitist aims of the “golden billion” (TASS 2022). Similarly, Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov repeatedly emphasised the role of this concept in what he viewed as the neo-colonial exploitation of the post-Soviet region6.

Despite the substantial economic benefits accrued by Russia from exporting natural resources to Western countries over decades, Russian leaders have consistently portrayed the West as eager to seize Russia’s natural wealth. This accusation is part of a broader narrative that suggests a Western strategy aimed at dominating and impoverishing other nations. While such a claim might seem like a conspiracy theory, substantial historical evidence supports similar strategies (Uscinski and Parent 2014). This underscores the complexity of distinguishing between unfounded narratives and real conspiracies.

In this context, President Putin critiqued the global order as inherently racist and neocolonial, particularly highlighting the West’s treatment of regions outside the “golden billion” as peripheral, akin to colonies, with their populations seen as second-class7. He argued that this perspective stems from a Western sense of exceptionalism. His remarks were made in June 2022 at the International Economic Forum, where he stated that the Kremlin was “forced” to initiate actions in Ukraine due to the West’s refusal to acknowledge current realities and its resistance to historical progress (Episkopos 2022).

Further, during his speech at the Conference on Interaction and Confidence-Building Measures in Asia (CICA), President Putin used the opportunity to advance his long-held view of the “golden billion” as a critical lens through which to view the domination of the global financial system by the US and its allies. He proposed that CICA members should distance themselves from this system to avoid exploitation by Western economic practises, thereby advocating for an alternative monetary framework that challenges Western dominance (Rozman and Christoffersen 2023). This strategic narrative seeks to shift the summit’s focus towards embracing a different economic paradigm.

3. Theoretical Framework

3.1. Conspiracy Narratives

The dialogue surrounding conspiracy theories reveals significant historical, ideological, and normative complexities that make them a point of contention in both academic and public debates (Thalmann 2019; Butter and Knight 2020a; Birchall and Knight 2023). They present a significant definitional challenge. On the one hand, some scholars consider conspiracy theories inherently irrational or prima facie suspicious (Napolitano 2021; Harris 2024; Cassam 2019). On the other hand, others argue that conspiracy theories should be evaluated individually and that many are rational and represent a crucial aspect of democracy (Dentith 2021, 2023; Coady 2019; Basham 2019). This theoretical debate highlights the fact that conspiracy theories are not automatically irrational but, rather, are interpretative tools that can be useful, especially when transparency is limited. More generally, these theories often challenge conventional narratives, suggesting that significant events are neither coincidental nor isolated but part of a larger, orchestrated scheme (Birchall 2006; Barkun 2013). They frequently reflect a populist viewpoint, portraying history as a conflict between noble ordinary people and a manipulative elite (Bergmann 2018). Populist characteristics such as anti-elitism and a Manichean outlook manifest in collective movements and individual actors (Hawkins and Rovira Kaltwasser 2018; Rooduijn and Akkerman 2017). These traits provide a framework for exploring the populist inclination towards conspiracy theories, which is particularly evident during global crises such as the COVID-19 pandemic. Governments and academic communities often face populist critiques during crises, leading to increased adherence to conspiracy theories due to the perception of elite-dominated narratives and interventions (Wirth et al. 2016; Caramani 2017). The emergence of the “Plandemic” narrative exemplifies this complex intersection, intertwining critiques of political and technocratic elites (Moran 2020; Eberl et al. 2021). Pirro and Taggart (2023) characterise conspiracy theories as a rhetorical element of populism, a cognitive refuge that enables populists to navigate the challenges and contradictions of governance. This reliance on conspiratorial theories reflects a deep mistrust of institutions and conventional political discourse, reasserting the need for continuous mobilisation against perceived injustices and betrayals by the elites.

Advancements in modern media technologies have significantly contributed to the dissemination of conspiracy theories, affecting public belief systems (Mulligan and Habel 2011; Swami et al. 2013; Jolley and Douglas 2014; Einstein and Glick 2015; Craft et al. 2017), although they do not necessarily mark a new epoch of conspiracy thought (Uscinski and Parent 2014). The spread of these theories is linked to the dynamics of Web 2.0, which promotes online communities (Blommaert and Varis 2015) and a type of social trust favouring compelling narratives over empirical accuracy (Leone 2016). Such dynamics place conspiracy theories at the heart of the post-truth era (Birchall and Knight 2023). Today’s digital environment, with its emphasis on emotional resonance rather than factual integrity, enhances the spread of misinformation, posing challenges to public discernment in a time when false narratives are propagated by social media interactions (Uscinski 2020; Uscinski and Enders 2023).

For example, social media users who actively engage with communities centred on scientific or conspiracy-related content tend to focus intensely on specific topics (Quattrociocchi and Vicini 2016). This intense focus often leads to their isolation from other subjects and perspectives. While this phenomenon is not directly linked to information overload, it is interesting to note its different emotional impacts: social media tends to reinforce users’ pre-existing beliefs by consistently mirroring those beliefs back to them. This creates a feedback loop that can lead to tunnel vision, where verified information is overshadowed by reinforced personal beliefs, further exacerbated by the anxiety of handling the overwhelming amount of information available on the internet.

In this context, “fear” becomes a potent mobilising emotion in contemporary society (Castells 2009), and conspiracy theories use fears to construct the semiotic codes that societies use to interpret reality (Leone et al. 2020). As noted by Umberto Eco (1990), the dynamics of reference in conspiracy theories involve a paranoid, hermetic form of semiosis where each analogy discovered prompts the creation of another in an endless chain of interpretation that often disconnects from reality. Conspiracies are also involved in a mythological pattern that reinterprets events not as coincidences but as manifestations of a singular evil cause, blending ideologies from diverse and often contradictory political movements (Madisson 2014).

Furthermore, conspiracy theories often utilise a polarised logic, sharply dividing the world into “us” and “them”—a process that fosters an “anti-culture” or a mirror version of one’s cultural norms, perceived as threatening and disruptive (Ventsel 2016). This dichotomous framing is crucial in forming conspiracy theories, assigning negative attributes to the “other” while viewing one’s own group as devoid of these flaws (Lepik 2008).

Such binary oppositions are not merely abstract concepts but are structured around tangible social markers like nationality, political beliefs, or other identity facets, often labelling these as enemies within (Leone et al. 2020). The internal enemy is particularly significant in the dynamics of fear, where the most intense fears are directed not towards the overtly foreign but towards what is deceptively familiar, morphing into a perceived internal threat.

The societal need for an enemy intensifies during crises, where different groups—whether radicals from opposite ends of the spectrum or various ethnic groups—are portrayed using similar semiotic models. This uniform enemy depiction resonates with cultural archetypes, reflecting deeper social fears and anxieties. Thus, the search for an enemy often precedes and justifies the fear itself, shaping it in a way that aligns with pre-existing cultural narratives (Leone et al. 2020). This semiotic analysis reveals how conspiracy theories do more than speculate on covert activities—they construct identities and societal boundaries, often reinforcing existing cultural tensions and fears.

These theories also serve as rhetorical tools, but while conspiracy theories often align with extreme-right movements, particularly in their anti-elitism, anti-globalism, and distrust of institutions, it is important to distinguish between the two phenomena. Extreme-right movements frequently employ conspiracy theories as rhetorical tools to mobilise their supporters by translating feelings of fear, anger, and moral superiority into explicit narratives (Madisson and Ventsel 2018). However, conspiracy theories are not exclusive to extreme-right ideologies. They can span the political spectrum, appearing in populist left movements, centrist groups, and apolitical communities alike.

The process of transmitting information heavily involves a mutual relationship between belief and the act of transmission itself. Beliefs significantly influence the likelihood of transmitting certain information. For instance, rumours and urban legends perceived as true are more often shared (Pezzo and Beckstead 2006; Heath et al. 2001). Additionally, individuals may strategically share conspiracy theories without necessarily believing in them, similar to the transmission of rumours (Kapferer 1987). These can be shared for various reasons: their novelty, their credibility, their ability to resolve social tensions, their capability to position the storyteller as the focal point, or simply because they are compelling (Clément 2006). Conversely, the fear of social stigma may prevent individuals from sharing conspiracy theories they do believe in (Lantian et al. 2018).

The transmission of such theories can also impact beliefs. As a conspiracy theory becomes more prevalent, it can deeply embed itself within a culture, in some cases through material artefacts (Boltanski 2014). This widespread dissemination increases the likelihood that more individuals will encounter these ideas, potentially leading to greater acceptance and belief (Douglas and Sutton 2008).

3.2. Research on the Narratives on the Russian–Ukrainian War

The narrative dimensions of armed conflicts are an ideal—albeit desperately tragic—context for observing conflicting narrative phenomena that, in peaceful contexts, would probably never emerge with the same propensity for violence, domination over the adversary, and, consequently, the most radical aversion to compromise. On the other hand, armed conflicts can be considered inherently narrative phenomena (Fröhlich 2018) that would make no sense outside the frames of meaning of the territories, societies, and bodies they involve (Rutigliano 2011). Consequently, the clash between opposing storytelling viewpoints is a contest for interpreting a phenomenon in a hybrid dimension where reality merges with its narrative, shaping and substantiating each other.

One of the most distinctive features of contemporary information wars, particularly the Russian–Ukrainian conflict, is their focus on phenomena composed of recycled and recyclable information. As Michele Mezza (2022) points out, these are fragments of stories, narrative building blocks processed and spread on the internet, similar to memes that others will use for different stories. These phenomena are products of a culture-war industry that not only serves as propaganda but becomes the very essence of the war itself (Giungato et al. 2024). Observing how these narrative conflicts develop thus allows us to infer valuable data for the study of conspiracy theories, which appears to be collateral—if not closely connected—to the study of information wars.

The connection between certain aspects of conspiracy narratives and the propaganda narratives of the Russian–Ukrainian war has been captured by some research published in the last few years. These studies have focused on various aspects of this relationship. For example, the emergence of common isotopies (Greimas 1974) characterising conspiracy narratives—chief among them the evocation of secrets, whether unveiled or revealed as a commonplace feature of some narratives—was central to research conducted by Bianca Terracciano (2023), who examined a series of Telegram posts published during the early months of the Russian–Ukrainian conflict on channels associated with the QAnon movement.

The use of conspiracy theories for propagandistic and wartime purposes is also the subject of a study by Šorytė (2023), which focuses on the echo received on some mainstream Russian channels of a conspiracy theory published on Telegram by the anti-cult extremist Aleksandr Korelov. This theory claims that Russian Jehovah’s Witnesses are at the centre of a conspiracy against the state, orchestrated in conjunction with US intelligence services.

Schuster et al. (2023), on the other hand, aim to identify the factors that influence the belief or disbelief of German adolescents in conspiracy theories related to the Russian–Ukrainian war. They identify anomie and distrust in institutions as some of the most significant variables.

Although the studies above differ in approaches and scientific fields, they share the common observation that conspiracy narratives and pro-Russian counter-information—particularly on social networks—often share the same dissemination channels and gatekeepers. This coincidence is almost exclusively attributed to the—not necessarily conscious—political alignment between many spreaders of the content referred to as conspiracy theories and the positions adopted by an anti-democratic far-right international populist movement, which sees the Putin Government and Donald Trump as its most significant exponents. Furthermore, these studies start from the premise that the most relevant variable for defining a conspiracy narrative is the truth or falsity of the content.

A different perspective is adopted by Mari et al. (2022), who investigate the correlation between the degree of trust in institutions within a given sociopolitical context and the processes of disseminating conspiracy theories. They start from the premise that “a generalised climate of institutional distrust may have severe consequences on community well-being, citizens’ political engagement, and overall democratic welfare” (Mari et al. 2022). Indeed, their research has the merit of overturning the assumption of previous studies, hypothesising that the spread of conspiracy theories is not the cause but rather a symptom of a more general systemic problem. Moreover, this shift has the significant advantage of focusing attention on social processes rather than on the dichotomous polarisation between those who believe in falsehoods and those who recognise the truth—with the not inconsiderable task of first also engaging in the demonstration of the truth of the narratives analysed.

The methodological choice, therefore, has been to observe online conspiracy narratives, regardless of their verified truth/falsity. Such an approach has been considered valuable and consistent, even with the netnographic approach (Kozinets 2006, 2010, 2015). As Jeacle (2021) emphasises in her review of netnographic approaches, within the context of an online community, it is crucial to regard all data as “real” and relevant for research purposes, as the role of netnographers is not to determine the “truthfulness” or “falseness” of the postings, even if that were possible. Rather, their task is to observe the phenomenon, document the data, and use them to explain the world we live in.

Indeed, even from the perspective indicated by Lyotard (1979), disputes between discourses through which postmodernity is interpreted do not solely concern statements—language games or speech acts—susceptible to empirical verification and thus to being declared true or false. Instead, they are often constructed according to an interpretative logic that evades any form of provability. Moreover, many of these discourses function as small ideologies, or interpretative keys, to use Goffman’s terminology (Cerulo 2011), through which the frames of contemporaneity make sense. They are, in effect, codes for translating events, establishing correspondences between otherwise incoherent elements of the continuum of reality with structured portions of meanings. In this sense, their function is often to construct temporal sequences or cause-and-effect connections among the various events of reality that would otherwise be unreadable, much like how a writing plan provides the instructions for assembling the various elements of a story, enabling it to become a coherent plot. This is precisely why it is very interesting to observe the association between schemas and theories provided by Rumelhart (1980), who holds that the primary role of schemas might be in shaping our interpretation of events, objects, or situations, thereby facilitating our understanding. Schemas can be considered as informal, personal theories that are not explicitly expressed, which help us make sense of the events, objects, or situations we encounter. Collectively, the schemas we use to interpret the world form, in a way, our personal theory of reality.

On the other hand, as Kapferer (1987) noted in his classic essay on rumours, evaluating the truth or falsity of the contents of a conspiracy theory is a misleading effort to understand the phenomenon. The focus should instead be on other elements, particularly the social contexts of propagation, the symbolic and cultural content of the narratives, and the relationship between the institutional and counter-institutional dimensions of the discourses and the actors involved. According to this perspective, conspiracy theories manifest a relationship between the public and institutional authority.

To complete the list of theoretical paradigms that will prove significant for reading institutional narratives concerning the “Golden Billion” scheme, it is important to mention one of the foundational works for propaganda studies in the twentieth century, that of Lasswell (1927). The Chicago sociologist had already observed—and described in metaphorical terms—how the use of a kind of “satanization” of the enemy helped to construct a simulacrum of the adversary so permeated with absolute and irrational evil as to justify every possible effort of the nation—in the name of all the good/free people of the earth—to destroy it without ever coming to terms with it. We will, therefore, try to apply such a theoretical model to the present day, although it was designed to read the rhetorical strategies employed by the propaganda office of the Committee on Public Information under the leadership of journalist George Creel during World War I. In fact, we can see that, even in the narratives of conspiracy theories, it is possible to identify a pattern that attributes to an unspecified enemy a whole series of intentions and behaviours, many of which are the result of rhetorical distortions or actual narrative inventions.

4. Methods and Design

To substantiate these observations, a content analysis was conducted using a sample of narratives that reference both the “golden billion” and the Russian–Ukrainian war, focusing on several particularly significant events within the context of the Russian–Ukrainian conflict. These events include the following: the initial phase of the large-scale invasion by Russian armed forces (February 2022–November 2022); the siege of Mariupol (March–May 2022); the sabotage of the Nord Stream 2 pipeline (26 September 2022); and the terrorist attack at Crocus City Hall in Moscow (22 March 2024). The analysis was carried out using a socio-semiotic approach (cf. Altheide 2000), in line with other approaches to the study of contemporary armed conflict narratives (Clack and Johnson 2021; Monaci and Morreale 2022).

Given the vast amount of material produced on the topic of the war in Ukraine, both in legacy media and digital media, the first challenge was the selection method itself. Using the doxasfera model created by Cristante (2022), which identifies the different actors involved in shaping public opinion, the decision was made to focus exclusively on a series of official statements made during public occasions or interviews by Russian political decision-makers—otherwise referred to as political leaders—during the last two years. The research proceeded along two lines simultaneously.

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On one hand, a search for the keywords “golden billion” and “miliardo d’oro” was conducted on the Telegram platform, using a sample of accounts deemed particularly significant and selected during previous searches conducted from 2022 to 2024 on a series of 20 Italian and international Telegram channels considered to be particularly valuable for observing counter-narratives related to the Russian–Ukrainian war (Affuso and Giungato 2022; Giungato et al. 2024). In particular, the Telegram platform was chosen because of its highly significant role during the Russian–Ukrainian conflict, especially after the closure of free access to Russian information channels in Europe, at which point it became the main medium used for propagating pro-Russian counter-narratives. It often became a point of reference for narrators, journalists, and Western news media outlets to compare and verify news on the war from the Ukrainian perspective (Nazaruk 2022; Pavlik 2022; Stolze 2022; Maathuis and Kerkhof 2023).

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On the other hand, a search for the keywords “golden billion” AND “war” AND “Ukraine” AND “official statement” OR “Mariupol” OR “Nord Stream” OR “Crocus City Hall” was conducted using the Google search engine, for the period from February 2022 to September 2023.

Once this first step of the research was completed and an initial data sample obtained, further filtering was performed by selecting only the content that contained references to official statements made by Russian political decision-makers. Based on the extracted data, a search was then conducted for the definitive texts published on institutional platforms in English.

Based on that analysis, the theme of the “golden billion” immediately emerged as relevant over time within nine speeches attributed to the Russian Federation’s Minister of Foreign Affairs, Sergej Lavrov8; President Putin9; leader of the Russian Liberal Democratic Party, Leonid Slutsky10; Director of the Foreign Policy Planning Department within the Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Alexei Drobinin11; and Secretary of the Security Council, Nicolai Patrushev12, among other official statements.

However, if we also follow the traces of the Western narrative, as indicated by the same counter-information channels, as well as the same pattern of polarisation outlined above, it is possible to extract a sample of useful documents so as to apply the same method of analysis and extract what appears to be an opposite pattern, namely a narrative matrix opposed to the Russian perspective for construction of the accounts of the Russian–Ukrainian war. The aim of this approach was both to carry out a comparative analysis of the opposing narratives and to reconstruct the identity paths of each of the factions involved. In this case, the keywords were only related to the events considered and not to the “golden billion”. The ten documents analysed were taken from some official speeches by the President of the European Council, Charles Michel13; the President of the United States, Joe Biden14; the High Representative of the European Union for Foreign Affairs and Security Policy, Josep Borrell15; and the President of Ukraine, Volodymyr Zelensky16—in interviews given to CBS in September 2022, September 2023, and March 2024—as well as joint statements made by Charles Michel and Volodymyr Zelensky, by the President of the European Parliament, Roberta Metsola, and by the President of the European Commission, Ursula Von Der Leyen, during the plenary session of the European Parliament on 1 March 2022.

According to a semiotic approach to the study of conspiracy theories, the primary function of such a narrative is to serve as a matrix and, therefore, as an interpretative framework of reality, applying an extra-coding mechanism (see Eco 1978). By extra-coding, Eco refers to all those cases in which the decoder of a message is forced to interpret the code to detect unintended connections (as in the case of metaphor or poetic language), or instances where the decoder does not know, or only partially knows, the code in which a message has been encoded. In such cases, the decoder is compelled to “invent” an interpretative code, usually by resorting to other codes he or she possesses (as in the situation where someone speaks to us in a language unknown to us). Comparing the process of extra-coding to the interpretation of events undertaken by a conspiracy theory, we can observe that:

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The extra-coding process can proceed by inference, taking its cue from a matrix given from above by authorities and serving as a key to understanding the facts of the world, in a process similar to that of hyper-coding.

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Conversely, in the more widespread conspiracy theories, such as the flat-earth or reptilian theories, the dynamic seems to originate from below and proceed by induction through a process of hypo-coding (Eco 1962) that invents causal and temporal connections between otherwise incoherent elements and then fixes them in a code recognised by a social group.

The semiotic–narrative method for interpreting conspiracy theories, however, is particularly useful for analysing another piece of evidence that emerges from the data. During the observation and subsequent analysis of the documents, a dialectical and polarised opposition between opposing factions was first noted, tending to co-opt or exclude any position of neutrality, as already observed in previous war contexts (Kuntsman and Stein 2015). In a war scenario, such opposition almost always assumes an ethical dimension, which can be summarised by the dichotomies “friend versus foe”, “us versus them” or “good versus evil” (cf. Fröhlich 2018). Indeed, we must consider that the function of storytelling—particularly war storytelling—is not only to produce information by framing reality into a narrative but also to create identity configurations and to negotiate and renegotiate forms of recognition and cohesion of both individual and collective selves (Ricoeur 1983; Jedlowski 2022), often from an oppositional or residual perspective relative to the other (who am I?/who is the enemy?). War storytelling, in other words, also functions as a communicative praxis with ritualistic connotations, as it constitutes a sense-making process that can be used to redefine and strengthen social cohesion through the composition of a dramaturgy in which the antagonist—and, in some respects, even the authority—plays determining roles.

What, then, is the role of facts or the burden of proof—using the judicial metaphor—in this process of polarisation? It appears that the role of facts is to provide the material around which the schema adapts to compose a coherent construction in the story, much like in a documentary or historical novel (cf. Ricoeur 1983).

This is how the narrative constructions of the two sides build themselves up in the media galaxies and compose the lore of the conflict, coalescing into a series of interpretative schemas that are somewhat mutually orthodox and make it possible to understand and plot the events related to the conflict. This act of framing reality into a narrative is accompanied by a continuous rhetorical and critical effort to delegitimise the adversary’s interpretative schemas. The peculiarities of these schemas are drawn from the narratives produced by the opposing side, which each antagonist pole appropriates and projects onto a simulacrum of the other.

It is within the interaction between the concrete and dramatic events occurring on the real battlefield during the war and this process of identifying antagonistic narratives—and simultaneously projecting one’s narratives onto the adversary—that the narrative construction of the enemy takes place. Such plots, therefore, undergo a priori delegitimisation and are variously labelled as mainstream, hegemonic, politically correct, or—simply—disinformation or propaganda.

Narrative structures can sometimes take a form in which they become structured as political/social codes. In this manner, they cease to serve merely as an ad hoc interpretative key for a specific event and instead become an interpretive matrix for multiple past and, consequently, future events. In this context, once the matrix is incorporated into the codes of the antagonist, who appropriates and reinterprets it, it may be labelled as conspiracism, conspiracy theory, ideology, globalist propaganda, Atlantist propaganda, or pro-Russian propaganda. In other words, during the observation phase of some of the most widely followed Italian counter-information Telegram channels (effectively pro-Russian, although affiliation with the positions of the Russian Government is sometimes a consequence of an anti-hegemonic stance against NATO governments and media aligned with institutional positions), a sort of distorted mirror effect between opposing factions and narratives emerged, whereby one could say that, for the conspiracist, the real conspiracist is the other. Therefore, for comparison, a semiotic–narrative analysis of the documents was conducted to identify which opposing narrative structures might emerge, extrapolating relevant data such as actantial schemas, symbolic references, and sub-codes used.

5. Results and Discussion

As has also been observed by other analysts (Bennato et al. 2023; Turco 2022) or emphasised in publications with a more critical approach to the Western media narrative (Sabene 2023), the observation of Italian and international counter-information channels regarding the Russian–Ukrainian war (Affuso and Giungato 2022; Giungato et al. 2024) found that many narratives disseminated by both Western and Russian media and official authorities were inaccurate or controversial. These disputes often focused on specific events, later debunked or questioned by counter-narratives, even within the same political media sphere. Examples include speculation about military supplies, casualty numbers, and desertions.

However, it should be noted that interpretation conflicts have often been based on the narration of events where the occurrence of those events was not strictly questioned. The clash between antagonistic narratives has almost always concentrated on intentions, causal relationships, adopted strategies, and, most importantly, future actions.

In narrative terms, during the analysis of the documents examined, the expression “golden billion” appears to assume the guise of a label attributed to the antagonist, often also referred to as the “collective West”. However, upon more profound observation of the network of connotations, discursive contexts, and positioning within the narrative framework, the expression could appear more consistent with a post-colonial and anti-liberal narrative rather than an unspecified esoteric–conspiratorial narrative. However, this narrative opens up new research aims that could be refuted in future research starting from this point of view. To sum up, “golden billion” seems to indicate, on the one hand, a specific antagonist, represented not only by the Western governments enacting economic sanctions against the Russian Federation and military measures in favour of Ukraine but also by imperialist and post-colonial countries such as the UK, USA, and France, with all the symbolic, historical, and cultural weight that such a reference entails.

At the heart of the Golden Billion narrative, the spectre of the anti-imperialist, Third-Worldist narrative of post-Marxist and revolutionary origin appears as its foundation. The solid schema thus takes the form of an interpretative matrix that allows the narrative to shape any possible past, present, and future political event related to the nation. Whether it concerns war—as in the case of the supply of weapons by Western countries, economic sanctions, or the allocation of substantial funds to support Ukrainian troops—or serves to support the reading of internal events—as in the case of the attack on Crocus City Hall on 22 March 2024—the interpretative matrix functions as a translation code for incoherent events, giving them meaning, as it is able to place characters, locations, and facts in the right slots to enable a coherent narrative construction.

In the words of the Russian Foreign Minister Lavrov, spoken on the occasion of the “For the Freedom of Nations” Forum of Supporters of the Struggle Against Modern Practices of Neocolonialism, held in Moscow on 16 February 2024,

“After the Soviet Union departed the world stage, the West began to impose its “rule-based order”, in fact, its undivided dominance in economics, finance, politics and culture. The “Golden Billion” enthusiastically embarked on neo-colonial development of the post-Soviet space, along with the countries of the Global South and East. [..] The situation in Ukraine is a graphic example of how desperately the “world hegemon” is fighting to preserve its domination. Ukraine is a tool in the hands of its American puppet masters. [..] The shaping of multipolarity is a historically natural and irreversible process. [..] At one time, Russia was the leader in promoting the decolonisation processes. Its victory in the Great Patriotic War, which was achieved at an enormous cost, made it possible to halt the West’s global expansion for several decades. [..] Despite Western pressure, Russia is again fighting not only for itself but also for the whole world. [..] It is time to pool the efforts of all the people here and other allies in starting a systematic effort to eradicate the neocolonial practices.17”

The significant use of expressions with significant connotative intensity, related to historical memory, is evident: “Soviet Union”; “neo-colonial”; “Global South and East”; “American puppet masters”; “decolonisation”; “Great Patriotic War”; “fighting not only for itself but also for the whole world”; and “neocolonial practises”. Using the Golden Billion in this key also provides the antagonist with a narrative programme—or quest—capable of explaining every political choice in an absolutely rational and more easily predictable manner. Thus, ISIS-affiliated terrorists responsible for the Moscow attack appear more consistently as allies of the Ukrainian armed forces or in the pay of US secret services rather than as incidental pawns driven by incoherent political demands against a still imperialist Russia. On the other hand, in this precarious balance between reality and narrative, the entire contradiction of ideologies plays out.

We should note the following words in another document, extrapolated from the speech given by Vladimir Putin on 14 June 2024 at the meeting with senior staff of the Russian Foreign Ministry in Moscow:

“The threat to Europe does not come from Russia. The main threat to Europeans is their critical and increasing dependence on the United States in military, political, technological, ideological and informational aspects. Europe is being marginalised in global economic development, plunged into the chaos of challenges such as migration, and losing international agency and cultural identity. Sometimes, I get the impression that European politicians and representatives of the European bureaucracy are more afraid of falling out of favour with Washington than losing the trust of their own people. The recent election to the European Parliament has also demonstrated this. European politicians tolerate humiliation, rudeness and scandals, such as surveillance of European leaders, while the United States simply exploits them for its own benefit. […] If Europe wants to continue being an independent centre of global development and a cultural and civilisational pole on our planet, it should definitely maintain good and friendly relations with Russia. Most importantly, we are ready for this. […] Indeed, politicians of truly European and global scale, who are patriots of their countries and nations, understand this simple and obvious fact. They think in terms of historical categories and are not mere followers of someone else’s will and influence. Charles de Gaulle spoke about this during the post-war period. […] Speaking of the United States, the never-ending attempts by the current globalist liberal elites to spread their ideology worldwide, to maintain their imperial status and dominance in one way or another, are only further exhausting the country, leading to its degradation, and clearly contrary to the genuine interests of the American people. If it were not for this dead-end policy, driven by aggressive messianism based on the belief in their own superiority and exceptionalism, international relations would have long been stabilised.”

Once again, the emphasis on linking real events to narratives connected to historical memory is evident, as seen in the reference to De Gaulle. There is also a notable recurrence of narrative frameworks associated with Soviet ideology, such as the decadence of the West, Europe’s subordination to the United States, and their policy of aggression towards the peoples of the Global South and East.

The recourse to this twist of the Golden Billion script places the Russian Federation, its government members, its armed forces, and its entire population in the role of vanguards and inspiration for all other subjugated peoples of the Earth in a universalist and revolutionary struggle to obtain their common object of value, represented by the redemption of the Global South from oppression and misery in a new and promising multipolar world.

On the other hand, when we observe the opposite side and analyse Western institutional narratives, it is easy to see how interpretative frameworks also play a crucial role in shaping events into a coherent discourse. From the data analysis, a narrative matrix emerges, consistent with what was already indicated by Lasswell (1927) as the use of satanism to delegitimise the adversary in wartime.

Indeed, the construction of a satanic enemy uses tried and tested narrative matrices that have their Manichean background in archetype and, therefore, in myth. Even in the narratives characterising Western discourses on the Russian–Ukrainian war, the enemy is sometimes attributed positions within the framework, symbolic connotations, and narrative agendas that embody total irrationality, incoherence, chaos, immorality, and a will to destroy the world, typical of an archetypal Manichean monster.

The unyielding determination in the face of aggression and, at the same time, the unwillingness to dialogue and compromise with a monstrous and inhuman enemy who, if not fought with all one’s might, is ready to invade Europe, occupy it, and threaten the free world, renders political and rational motivations irrelevant in explaining the actions of an evil, witch-like leader capable of bewitching an entire people and directly responsible for kidnapping children or raping women. Labelled by pro-Russian narrators as propagandistic narratives akin to conspiracy theories, the Western matrices similarly bend events into a plot such that even the apparently illogical take on the traits of the possible—as in the case of the attack on Crocus City Hall or the sabotage of Nord Stream 2, both attributed (using the same schema typical of a conspiracy theory) at least initially by Western authorities to the wild and suicidal intent of the Russian secret services themselves.

The projection of such an enemy, whose narrative agenda is to do evil for its own sake, thus not only makes it possible to delegitimise anyone—helpers, senders or receivers—who tries to approach it but also grants the right to engage in the highest and most universal of momentums, the heroic struggle not only for oneself but for the whole of humanity. During the plenary session of the European Parliament on 9 February 2023, President Roberta Metsola said the following: “When the world thinks of Ukraine they think of heroes fighting the odds, of David beating Goliath. They think of the icons of Snake Island, the warriors of Mariupol, the liberators of so many occupied towns and villages. Their names will be spoken of for generations18”. On the other hand, Zelensky himself emphasises how, despite the current suffering, Ukraine fights and sacrifices for the future of democracy and freedom in the world, determined to never surrender.

It is clear, therefore, from the analysis conducted on the documents presented above, that the theoretical framework introduced at the beginning of this discussion can be verified. As has been highlighted, the conspiracy theories implicitly evoked in the official statements made by the political leaders under examination are essentially narrative constructions, the most evident peculiarity of which lies not only in the content, which may be more or less verifiable, but rather in the construction of alternative cause–effect connections and in the evocation of other deep narrative matrices—particularly those related to collective memory or myth.

6. Conclusions

Conspiracy theories, particularly the New World Order (NWO) and Golden Billion (GB) theories, serve as a lens for examination of the Russia–Ukraine conflict. This study underscores the pervasive influence of these theories in shaping both public perception and policy direction, entrenching ideological divides that transcend territorial disputes and encapsulate a broader clash of worldviews and global orders.

The NWO theory, which emerged prominently after the Cold War, reflects deep-seated anxieties about global governance and US hegemony. However, while the GB theory drew its inspiration in the pre-war phase from Malthusian theories, hypothesising the existence of a global elite intent on controlling scarce resources, and thus resonating with contemporary ecological and demographic fears after the Russian attack on 23 February, the narrative against this theory is increasingly assuming the tone of a post-colonial or Third-Worldist resurgence. Russia is thus portrayed as the last bastion and beacon of hope for the world, fighting against the irreducible colonialist West so that all oppressed and colonised peoples of the Earth can finally realise their historic mission of emancipation. Indeed, this seems to imply a shift in the GB narrative from the economic, demographic, and ecological roots of original Malthusianism to those more closely related to imagery, memory, and identity, a factor that is also in line with what other research has observed (Bennato et al. 2023). This theoretical foundation is essential for understanding how these narratives have been repurposed in the Russia–Ukraine conflict, as evinced by crucial episodes analysed in this study.

The study employed a netnographic approach to trace the dissemination of these conspiracy narratives across digital platforms, particularly Telegram channels. The analysis reveals a pattern of polarised discourse, where each faction constructs and projects a narrative simulacrum of the other. This process, as highlighted by Greimas’s semiotic theory and Campbell’s narrative paradigms (Campbell 1949), underscores the function of storytelling in wartime as a means of identity construction and social cohesion.

The results delineate how specific events within the conflict are framed through the NWO and GB lenses. For instance, the 2022 invasion of Ukraine is depicted as a defence against Western elite domination, while the siege of Mariupol and the Nord Stream sabotage are contextualised within broader conspiratorial agendas aimed at undermining Russian influence and energy security. The 2024 Moscow terrorist attacks further exemplify how these theories are mobilised to rationalise internal and external threats, painting them as orchestrated efforts by Western powers to destabilise Russia. The lenses of conspiracy theories like NWO and GB shape public perception and are built on a mixture of legitimate and unfounded fears. These narratives can be particularly persuasive in a context where real government conspiracies are a historical reality, as documented in numerous cases. This makes these theories not merely tools of propaganda but also reflections of a complex reality where real conspiracies and distorted perceptions intertwine.

This study’s findings suggest that these conspiratorial narratives are not merely fringe phenomena but are deeply embedded within both official and grassroots discourse in Russia. They provide a resilient, albeit misleading, framework through which supporters of Kremlin policies can rationalise the conflict, attributing complex geopolitical dynamics to the machinations of a global elite. The persistence and adaptability of these narratives highlight their utility in mobilising domestic support, framing international criticism, and justifying military actions.

In conclusion, the interplay between conspiracy theories and geopolitical conflict offers significant insights into narrative construction and ideological entrenchment mechanisms. By examining the Russia–Ukraine conflict through the prism of the NWO and GB theories, this study contributes to a broader understanding of how modern conflicts are interpreted and rationalised through enduring conspiratorial lenses, impacting national and international policy and public opinion. Future research could further explore the implications of these narratives on global political dynamics and their potential to influence other conflicts and geopolitical strategies.