Do Not Make an Enemy for Yourself

An Essay in Two Parts

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Part 1. The Anatomy of the Concept of “Enemy”

In public speeches by politicians and experts in various countries, the buildup of their own military potential is explained by the need to defend against or deter aggression by other countries. Let us not be disingenuous; to put it plainly: in this context, other countries are a potential enemy. Whether he really exists or, as often happens, exists only as an invented image is not all that important. But even potential confrontation with him is a crucial motive for the emergence of a mutual arms race. New weapons are developed, produced, and prepared for use in order to intimidate a possible enemy. Exercises are held. But if for some reason the fear disappears, those weapons may well fire. And, quite possibly, the hot phase of confrontation will begin.

One of the problems leading to acute conflicts is the deliberate or spontaneous formation, at the level of the people’s subconscious and, above all, in the collective mindset of the authorities, of the image of a potential and highly probable enemy. An enemy specifically, because one can build up one’s military potential only against an enemy—not a rival, not a competitor, and not even an adversary.

Let us give the most precise definitions of these concepts.

A rival is one who strives for the same goal as we do, but not necessarily against us. In the sporting sense: we can compete and respect each other.

A competitor is one who struggles with us for a limited resource: market, influence, territory. Competition presupposes rules and the possibility of coexistence.

An adversary is one whose interests directly contradict ours on a specific issue. An adversary can be temporary and situational.

An enemy is one whom we endow with the intention of destroying us. This is no longer about interest but about existential threat. Enemy is not a political category but a metaphysical one. That is precisely why replacing “competitor” with “enemy” is so dangerous: it shifts the conflict onto the plane of “who will destroy whom.”

But before talking about how to stop creating the image of an enemy in one’s own mind, we must understand which enemy we mean. Because enemies differ in their essence. And to conflate them is to deprive oneself of the ability to look at the world soberly and adequately.

There is a real enemy. One who genuinely threatens: a state preparing aggression; an armed group; a force capable of inflicting damage. Such an enemy is not a phantom. One must defend against him, one must take him into account. But even a real adversary is not absolute evil. One must understand: he is a concrete force with concrete interests.

There is a constructed enemy. One whom we have created artificially. He may not exist at all, or he may be greatly exaggerated. We need him for internal consolidation, for justifying budgets, for distracting from problems. This is the enemy as a function, necessary for achieving certain goals.

There is a historical enemy. One who is already gone, but whose image is passed down from generation to generation. The war ended, the offender disappeared, but hatred remained. This enemy lives in textbooks, in family memory, in national myths. He does not need to be created anew—he is already built into the culture.

There is an internal enemy. The “fifth column,” “traitors,” “aliens among us.” He is sought within society in order to explain failures, suppress opposition, tighten control. This is the most toxic type, because he destroys trust within the country and makes everyone a suspect.

There is an existential enemy. Not a country, not an army, but a system of values, a cultural code, a way of life. One cannot sign peace with him. One cannot defeat him with weapons. Today this is often “the West,” “liberalism,” “globalism,” “tradition”—depending on the side. The danger is that such an enemy is fundamentally irremovable, and therefore the struggle against him can last forever.

There is a symbolic enemy. This is not a concrete threat but a sign: “oligarch,” “bureaucrat,” “migrant.” A figure on whom all sins can be pinned. He is not necessarily real, but he is convenient for explaining any misfortune.

In the real world, these types are almost always mixed. But for an honest conversation, it is important to distinguish them at least in one’s own thinking. Because a real enemy requires defense. A constructed one requires awareness.

It is precisely about him—about the enemy whom we create ourselves, even when he does not actually exist—that we will speak further.

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It all begins imperceptibly. First a word appears. Then an image. Then a conviction. And then comes the day when a country wakes up and realizes that it cannot live without the one it has itself appointed as its mortal enemy. He becomes a necessary element in the balance of its system of relations with the outside world. This is not collusion and not even someone’s evil intent. It is the work of a function that someone must perform.

The enemy is not an entity. The enemy is a function.

And as long as someone needs this function, the enemy will arise again. His image will be created in one’s own consciousness and then personified—given a name, borders, a flag, a face. First in minds, then in media, then in budgets, institutions, and school textbooks.

Let us look at how this logic works in real politics. Let us take one example—not because it is the only one, but because it is in plain sight.

Today, in the speeches of officials and in Western publications, the image of Russia is formed as the image of an enemy. The first premise is that it is a potential aggressor, and then the label is attached: enemy. And one must prepare for its aggression, and for this one should build up one’s military potential and create a coalition of like-minded nations against Russia, a large country rich in natural resources.

But the mechanism works in both directions. In Russian official discourse, the West also appears not as a competitor or an adversary but precisely as an enemy—a force striving to destroy Russia’s sovereignty and distinctiveness. The symmetry here is not in moral assessment but in mechanics: both sides construct the image of an enemy because that image performs internal work—it consolidates, justifies, mobilizes.

This does not mean that real contradictions do not exist. They do. But a contradiction is not yet enmity. Enmity begins when we ascribe to the other side the intention of destroying us. And it is this transition—from contradiction to enmity—that is the subject of our conversation.

So the task is not to forbid ourselves from creating an enemy. Prohibitions do not work. The task is different—to create conditions under which the function of the enemy loses its meaning. It simply becomes unnecessary.

But to understand how to do this, we must first sort out who needs an enemy and why. That will be the subject of Part 2.

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Part 2. The Enemy as a State Function

What functions does a certain subject’s image of an enemy perform that make him so necessary? They differ for different subjects. In details, but not in essence. There are several levels at which the mechanism of creating an enemy as a function operates.

An individual creates an enemy in order to cope with anxiety, simplify a complex world, join a narrative, and gain a sense of being right. An organization creates an enemy in order to consolidate and mobilize employees and justify budgets. Humanity as a whole—in order to cope with the absence of common governance and a common identity.

But there is a level where this mechanism is especially strong and especially dangerous. That is the level of the country.

It is here that the enemy ceases to be merely an emotion or a separate element of state strategy. Often he becomes the main binding force of state policy. Like a virus, he embeds himself in institutions, budgets, education, media, military planning. It is here that the price of renouncing an enemy seems maximal, and resistance to change the strongest.

A country that renounces the image of an enemy risks losing something more than merely a foreign-policy reference point. It risks losing one of the most powerful instruments of internal consolidation. And that is a serious price.

And yet it is precisely at the level of the country that this renunciation, I believe, is most important. In this case, renunciation yields the greatest positive effect. Because if the state ceases to need an enemy, then the individual, the organization, and society as a whole will find it easier to live and work, using all resources for creation rather than destruction.

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How Enemy-Dependence Works

The state is a complex system that constantly needs grounds for its own existence. The authorities must explain why they are the authorities and why they cannot be done without. The budget must explain why so many resources go to security. Society must be told why people should endure restrictions and obey rules.

The enemy is a universal answer to all these questions.

The enemy explains why unified leadership is needed. The enemy explains why military spending is not inflated but necessary. The enemy explains why internal problems are not the result of governance mistakes but the consequence of external pressure and intrigues.

That is why the enemy is so convenient. He requires no proof. He requires only faith. And faith is the cheapest resource.

When a country cannot offer its citizens a coherent image of the future, it creates and offers them an image of an enemy. When the economy does not grow, the enemy becomes a natural explanation. When the political system fails to cope with feedback, the enemy becomes a logical justification.

The enemy is not a luxury. He is a crutch on which a state leans when it is tired of the need to develop. Yes, only a crutch, but a very expensive one. Its price is measured not only in money but in lives.

But here it is important to say something else as well. The state does not create the enemy alone. Society accepts this image—and not only because it is imposed on it. People also need an enemy. He relieves anxiety, simplifies the picture of the world, “there is us and there is him,” gives a sense of being right and of belonging to a “righteous cause.” The enemy is not only manipulation from above. He is also a demand from below. And as long as this demand exists, the state will satisfy it.

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What Can Be Done for Life Without Creating the Image of an Enemy?

We are not looking for universal solutions, because there are none. But there are directions that can reduce a state’s dependence on the image of an enemy. Not to abolish the enemy instantly—that is impossible. But to make him less necessary.

First—change the foundation of national identity.

A nation does not necessarily have to gather around hatred. It can gather around a common future, a common cause, common responsibility for the country. A shared ideology and a shared world of values. This is more difficult than mobilization through fear. But it is more sustainable in the long run.

A concrete mechanism: national projects in which the country’s participation is measured not by military power but by quality of life, level of education, and the state of science and culture. Countries that managed to break out of the cycle of enmity, as a rule, bet not on revenge but on creation. Postwar Germany built a new identity not on revanchism but on the “economic miracle” and European integration. Japan—on technological development. This does not mean that in that period these countries ceased to have interests, and contradictions disappeared. But they ceased to need an enemy as a support for self-definition. That was then, but today...?

Second—restructure the institutions that benefit from an enemy.

The enemy is an industry. The military-industrial complex, part of the bureaucracy, propaganda structures, and political forces that mobilize through fear all feed around him. As long as these institutions benefit from an enemy, any calls for reconciliation will be sabotaged.

These institutions must not be destroyed but their incentives must be changed. A concrete mechanism: changing the evaluation criteria for security agencies. If the main indicator for the military is not “victory over an enemy” but “prevented war,” then gradually the entire logic changes. If budgets are not tied primarily to confrontation, then the enemy loses economic meaning.

Third—change the teaching of history.

History is the main factory for producing enemies. As long as it is taught as a list of grievances, betrayals, and injustices, each new generation will receive a ready-made image of an enemy from an early age.

This does not mean that facts must be rewritten or crimes justified. It means that complexity, context, and alternatives must be shown. Teach not hatred but understanding. Understanding does not cancel justice. But it cancels demonization.

A concrete mechanism: joint textbooks and open archives. The example of the Franco-German history textbook shows that even former mortal enemies can agree on facts while leaving interpretations different.

Fourth—build foreign policy through predictability, not demonization.

Even when facing a real geopolitical adversary, one need not turn him into absolute evil—an enemy. One can compete harshly but preserve channels of communication, rules of the game, and the possibility of de-escalation.

A concrete mechanism: preserving channels of communication and institutions of trust even in crisis. The Helsinki Process of 1975 did not abolish the confrontation between the USSR and the West, but it created a system of confidence-building measures—observers, notifications, inspections. The sides remained adversaries but ceased to be hostages of uncertainty.

Dialogue is not a concession. It is a reduction of uncertainty. And uncertainty is more frightening than any threat.

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The Hardest Part

The hardest part is not to invent a new policy. The hardest part is to admit that the current one does not work.

Until a country admits that its dependence on the image of an enemy is a weakness, not a strength, nothing will change. As long as elites use the enemy to hold on to power, and society uses him to relieve anxiety, the vicious circle of creating an enemy will reproduce itself.

But there is another truth as well.

People get tired. Even when winning, people get tired of war. And this fatigue is not a weakness. It is a resource. It is precisely the soil on which something different can grow.

We cannot abolish the duality of man. We cannot abolish fear. We cannot abolish competition. But we can stop making a cult of it.

The enemy is not a necessity. It is a choice.

And this choice is made not only at the top. It is made by each one—by the individual, the organization, society. The state only formalizes what has already ripened in people’s heads. Therefore the first step toward ceasing to create an enemy for oneself is to admit that he was not given to us from outside. He was created by us. Which means we can create something else as well.

Not immediately. Not easily. Not without losses.

But we can.

September 2026.