In recent years, there has been a growing effort to sanitise Russia’s international image, particularly across the Global South. Since launching its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, Russia has faced widespread condemnation from much of the international community. The United Nations has passed multiple resolutions denouncing the invasion and rejecting Russia’s attempted annexation of Ukrainian territory, while Western governments have imposed sweeping economic sanctions aimed at isolating the Russian economy and limiting its ability to sustain the war.
The conflict has also significantly constrained Russia’s global influence. Vast quantities of military equipment, manpower and financial resources have been redirected towards the Ukrainian front, reducing Moscow’s ability to project power elsewhere. The consequences have already become apparent. In Syria, Russia proved unable to prevent the collapse of Bashar al-Assad’s regime after years of serving as its principal military backer. In the South Caucasus, Armenia, a long-standing Russian ally, saw Azerbaijan retake Nagorno-Karabakh in September 2023 despite Moscow’s traditional role as the region’s security guarantor. Although Russia continues to maintain important partnerships across the world, particularly with China, Iran and several developing nations, the war has undoubtedly diminished its capacity to exercise influence beyond its immediate sphere.
Faced with increasing estrangement from the West, the Kremlin has intensified its efforts to strengthen political, economic and military partnerships across the Global South. Africa has become one of the principal theatres of this diplomatic campaign. Central to Russia’s messaging is the portrayal of itself as a champion of anti-imperialism and national sovereignty, a state resisting Western domination while supporting countries seeking greater independence from Europe and the United States.
Nowhere has this narrative gained more traction than in the Sahel. The Alliance of Sahel States (AES), comprising Mali, Burkina Faso and Niger, has increasingly embraced Russia as a strategic security and diplomatic partner. Having severed defence agreements with France and withdrawn from ECOWAS, the three military governments have sought Russian assistance in their campaigns against jihadist insurgencies while framing their foreign policy as part of a broader rejection of Western influence. Moscow has eagerly positioned itself as the preferred alternative, expanding its military, diplomatic and informational presence throughout the region.
A similar narrative has found supporters elsewhere on the continent. In South Africa, Julius Malema has repeatedly expressed support for both Russia and President Vladimir Putin. He has stated that it is the official policy of his Economic Freedom Fighters (EFF) to support Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and has even claimed that, were he President, South Africa would provide Russia with military assistance. Likewise, Jacob Zuma’s uMkhonto weSizwe (MK) Party has adopted a consistently pro-Russia and anti-NATO position. The party has recently found itself embroiled in controversy following reports that South Africans, including individuals allegedly linked to the party, travelled to fight for Russian forces in Ukraine.
Yet this narrative is not new. Its origins can be traced back to the Cold War, when the Soviet Union pursued influence throughout the developing world by presenting itself as the leading opponent of Western imperialism. Moscow actively supported socialist and communist liberation movements across Africa, Asia and Latin America, portraying itself as an ally of oppressed peoples struggling against colonial domination.
This messaging drew heavily upon Vladimir Lenin’s theory that imperialism represented the highest stage of capitalism. According to this framework, European colonialism and American economic dominance were inseparable from capitalism itself, allowing the Soviet Union to present its own geopolitical ambitions as part of a global struggle for liberation. Soviet films, posters and radio broadcasts celebrated African independence leaders while depicting Western colonial powers as exploitative forces that continued to plunder the continent through economic domination.
The Soviet Union complemented this propaganda with extensive military and financial assistance. Moscow funded, armed and trained numerous liberation movements. Some of the most prominent being FRELIMO in Mozambique and the MPLA in Angola, while often relying on Cuban forces to provide direct military support. This allowed Soviet intervention to be portrayed as an act of Third World solidarity rather than the strategic expansion of another global superpower.
Soft power formed another pillar of Soviet influence. The USSR promoted its centrally planned model of economic development as a rapid path towards industrialisation and genuine independence from the West. It also invested heavily in educational diplomacy. Patrice Lumumba University, established in Moscow in 1960, educated tens of thousands of students from Africa, Asia and Latin America, providing professional training while fostering lasting political, cultural and ideological ties with the Soviet Union.
Understanding this history is essential because it reveals that Russia’s contemporary anti-imperialist messaging is not a novel foreign policy but the continuation of a decades-long strategy. Throughout both the Soviet and post-Soviet eras, Moscow has consistently sought to expand its influence by presenting itself as the defender of nations resisting Western domination. While this rhetoric has undoubtedly resonated with countries shaped by the legacy of European colonialism, it has also served to obscure Russia’s own long history of military intervention, territorial expansion and imperial ambition. Understanding that contradiction is essential to evaluating Russia’s claims of anti-imperialism today.
The presidency of Vladimir Putin has been characterised by a renewed willingness to use military force, political coercion and economic influence to restore Russia’s position as a dominant regional and global power. Far from representing a departure from the imperial traditions of both the Russian Empire and the Soviet Union, Putin’s foreign policy has consistently sought to reassert Moscow’s influence over neighbouring states while expanding Russia’s strategic footprint across the Middle East and Africa.
One of the earliest examples came in 2008, when Russia launched a combined land, air and naval invasion of Georgia following escalating tensions over the separatist regions of South Ossetia and Abkhazia. After a brief five-day war, Russian forces occupied both territories, recognised them as independent states, and have maintained a permanent military presence there ever since. Although Moscow justified its intervention as the protection of local populations, the invasion effectively prevented Georgia from fully integrating with Western institutions such as NATO and the European Union.
Russia has similarly demonstrated its willingness to intervene militarily to preserve friendly governments within its traditional sphere of influence. In January 2022, amid widespread anti-government protests in Kazakhstan, Russia led a deployment of troops under the banner of the Collective Security Treaty Organization (CSTO) to help stabilise President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev’s government. Although the deployment was temporary, it reinforced the message that Moscow remained the ultimate guarantor of security for governments aligned with the Kremlin.
Nowhere, however, have Russia’s imperial ambitions been more evident than in Ukraine. Following the Euromaidan Revolution in 2014, Russian special forces without insignia seized control of Crimea before Moscow organised a widely condemned referendum that it used to justify the peninsula’s annexation. At the same time, Russian intelligence services armed, financed and directed separatist movements in the Donetsk and Luhansk regions, creating a frozen conflict that destabilised eastern Ukraine for years.
In February 2022, Russia escalated this intervention into a full-scale invasion aimed at overthrowing the Ukrainian government and bringing the country back under Moscow’s influence. Although the initial assault on Kyiv failed, Russia shifted to a prolonged war of attrition in eastern and southern Ukraine while unilaterally declaring the annexation of the partially occupied regions of Donetsk, Luhansk, Zaporizhzhia and Kherson. The attempted conquest and annexation of internationally recognised territory represents one of the clearest examples of territorial imperialism in twenty-first-century Europe.
Russia’s influence has also transformed neighbouring Belarus into what many analysts describe as a de facto extension of Russia’s military infrastructure. Following the disputed 2020 presidential election, President Alexander Lukashenko survived unprecedented anti-government protests largely because of Moscow’s political, financial and security backing. Since then, Belarus has become increasingly dependent upon the Kremlin for its survival.
That dependence became even more apparent during Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. Belarus permitted Russian forces to use its territory as the principal staging ground for the assault on Kyiv in February 2022 and has since deepened military integration with Moscow. The deployment of Russian tactical nuclear weapons onto Belarusian territory and the growing integration of the two countries’ defence industries have further strengthened Russia’s strategic position along NATO’s eastern frontier while simultaneously reducing Belarus’ room for independent foreign and security policy.
Russia’s expansionist ambitions have not been confined to the former Soviet Union. In September 2015, Putin ordered a large-scale military intervention in Syria to prevent the collapse of the regime of Bashar al-Assad. Russian air power, special forces and military advisers played a decisive role in reversing the course of the civil war, while Moscow secured long-term access to the naval base at Tartus and the Hmeimim Air Base. The intervention not only preserved one of Russia’s closest allies in the Middle East but also restored Moscow as a major power broker in the region.
Across Africa, Russia has increasingly relied upon private military companies and, more recently, state-controlled expeditionary forces to expand its influence. For years, this role was primarily carried out by the Wagner Group, whose fighters operated alongside authoritarian governments and military juntas in exchange for security contracts and access to lucrative natural resources. Following the death of Yevgeny Prigozhin in 2023, many of these operations were absorbed into the Russian Ministry of Defence under the banner of the Africa Corps.
Although the specific arrangements differ from country to country, a common pattern has emerged. Russia provides military assistance, political backing and regime security to governments facing insurgencies or international isolation, while Russian state-linked companies gain access to gold, diamonds and other strategic resources. Variations of this model can be observed in countries including Libya, Sudan, Mali, Niger and Burkina Faso.
Taken together, these interventions reveal a consistent pattern. Whether through direct military invasions, support for separatist movements, the preservation of client governments or the deployment of proxy forces abroad, Russia has repeatedly sought to expand and maintain spheres of influence beyond its borders. These are not the actions of a state fundamentally opposed to imperialism. Rather, they are the hallmarks of a great power pursuing its own strategic interests while presenting them as resistance to Western hegemony.
Yet despite this record, there are still those who portray Russia as one of the world’s foremost anti-imperialist powers: a state standing against Western domination and preventing the emergence of a unipolar world. This argument has become especially prevalent across social media, where anti-Western sentiment, shaped by the enduring legacy of European colonialism, has created fertile ground for pro-Kremlin narratives. African audiences, in particular, have become a major target of this messaging.
This is not a new strategy. Rather, it is the modern continuation of Soviet Cold War propaganda, adapted for the digital age. Just as the Soviet Union sought to present itself as the natural ally of anti-colonial movements, today’s Russian state has revived that rhetoric to cultivate influence across Africa, Latin America and other parts of the Global South.
In 2023, the Kremlin launched the African Initiative, a pro-Russian media platform reportedly staffed by former Wagner Group personnel and linked to Russian intelligence, with a particular focus on Sahel countries such as Mali, Burkina Faso and Niger. At the same time, numerous investigations have alleged that Russia has financed social media influence campaigns across Africa, employing local influencers, coordinated online networks and disinformation to shape public opinion in Moscow’s favour.
The Kremlin has also invested heavily in cultivating sympathetic voices abroad. Journalists, politicians, academics and online content creators have frequently been invited on fully funded trips to Russia under the guise of media exchanges or “capacity-building” programmes. These visits help foster relationships with influential figures who often return home presenting Russia in a favourable light while reinforcing the narrative that Moscow is the leading defender of a more “just” multipolar international order. Organisations such as BRICS are similarly promoted as evidence that Russia is leading the construction of an alternative to American and European dominance.
Yet Russia’s own conduct frequently contradicts the values it claims to champion. Perhaps nowhere is this contradiction more evident than in its treatment of African nationals during the war in Ukraine. Thousands of Africans have reportedly been drawn into Russia’s war effort through deceptive recruitment schemes. Investigations and survivor testimonies describe how recruiters targeted young men from countries including Kenya, Ghana, Cameroon and South Africa with promises of well-paid civilian, construction or security jobs in Russia. Upon arrival, many allegedly had their passports confiscated, were pressured into signing military contracts written in Russian, and were subsequently deployed to the front lines with minimal training.
Ukrainian intelligence and numerous independent investigations estimate that thousands of foreign recruits from dozens of African countries have served in Russian forces since the invasion began. In response, governments including South Africa, Kenya and Ghana have launched investigations, prosecuted suspected trafficking networks and worked to secure the return of affected citizens. Whatever one thinks of the wider geopolitical conflict, these allegations reveal a disturbing willingness to exploit vulnerable migrants in pursuit of Russia’s military objectives.
Imperialism is not defined by a nation’s geography, political ideology or rhetoric. It’s defined by the exercise of power over other societies through military conquest, political domination, economic dependence or the denial of another nation’s sovereignty. Judged by that standard, Russia’s record speaks for itself. It has invaded and occupied neighbouring countries, attempted to annex sovereign territory, propped up authoritarian client regimes, conducted global disinformation campaigns, exchanged military support for strategic access to natural resources, and recruited vulnerable foreign nationals to fight in its wars.
None of this absolves Western powers of their own long histories of colonialism or imperial intervention. But rejecting one form of imperialism should not require embracing another.
The myth of Russia’s anti-imperialism persists because it appeals to legitimate grievances about the unequal international order. Yet a state does not become anti-imperialist simply because it opposes the United States or Europe. When stripped of its rhetoric, Russia’s foreign policy reveals not the rejection of imperial politics, but the pursuit of its own.
