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Chapter 55: The Schoolteacher’s Dilemma

Tatiana, a history teacher for twenty-five years, opened the box of new textbooks with the trepidation of a bomb disposal expert. Under the old regime, teaching history had been an exercise in strategic evasion, a delicate art of teaching "between the lines" without getting herself fired. The old books had been glossy, bombastic monuments to a glorious, unblemished past.

She pulled out a new one. The cover was simple, unadorned. A History of the Russian Federation: 1991-2030. She flipped through it, a sense of quiet, revolutionary shock washing over her. The chapter on the Great Patriotic War now contained a meticulously factual section on the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact. The chapter on the 1990s was no longer just about “chaos and humiliation,” but also about the birth of a fragile civil society.

And then she saw it. The final, explosive chapter: "The Ukrainian Tragedy, 2022-2025." It used the unsparing, official report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission as its primary text. It described the conflict not as a "special military operation," but as a "disastrous and criminal war of aggression." It was the truth, printed in official ink, sanctioned by the state.

The next day, she decided to teach it. Her classroom of sixteen-year-olds, a generation raised entirely on the myths of the old world, shifted nervously in their seats.

“But my father says we were fighting against Nazis in Ukraine,” one boy, the son of a career military officer, blurted out, parroting the old language.

Another student, a quiet girl whose older brother had been killed near Bakhmut, just stared at the text, her face pale with a raw, painful intensity.

But a third student, one of her brightest, raised her hand. “If what the old government said was a lie,” she asked, her voice filled with a genuine, grappling curiosity, “then why did so many people believe it?”

Tatiana took a deep breath. This was the moment. “That is the most important question,” she said, her voice steady. “Let’s not talk about what to think. Let's talk about how to think.” For the next hour, she did not preach the new truth. She guided them. She showed them how to compare the old presidential speeches with the casualty numbers from the TRC report. She taught them how to identify propaganda, how to question a source, how to separate an emotional appeal from a factual claim. She wasn’t just giving them a new history. She was giving them the tools to dismantle the old one, a skill that had been forbidden for a generation.

She was cleaning up her classroom after school when the boy’s father stormed in. He was a barrel-chested man in his fifties, his face red with a furious, righteous anger.

“What is this poison you are teaching my son?” he demanded, slamming the new textbook down on her desk. “Western lies! My brother died in Chechnya! We are a great nation, surrounded by enemies! You are teaching our children to hate themselves! To be ashamed of their own country!”

Tatiana did not argue with him about the war. She met his rage with a quiet, unshakable calm. “I am not teaching your son what to think,” she replied, her voice even. “I am teaching him how to think. I am teaching him to read a document, to question a source, and to come to his own conclusions. The old system taught our children to be obedient subjects. I am trying to teach them to be informed citizens. Is that something you are truly afraid of?”

The man was left speechless, not because he was convinced, but because he had been confronted with a logic so alien to his worldview that he had no answer for it. He sputtered for a moment, then turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Tatiana stood alone in the quiet of her classroom, her heart pounding. She knew this was only the beginning. The war of guns and tanks was over. But the long, quiet, and difficult war for the minds of the next generation had just begun. And it would be fought, one classroom, one child, one difficult question at a time.

The Discourse, 55: The Pedagogy of De-programming: Rewriting National Myths

Section 55.1: The Textbook as a Battlefield
In any state, the national history textbook is a primary tool for the construction of a shared identity. In an authoritarian state, it is a key instrument of ideological control, used to create a simplified, heroic, and self-justifying national myth. The introduction of new textbooks is therefore not a simple academic update; it is a fundamental act of political and cultural struggle. The new textbook, with its inclusion of uncomfortable truths, represents a direct assault on the foundational myths of the old regime. Tatiana's classroom is a microcosm of the national "battlefield" where these competing narratives—the old myth and the new, more complex history—will clash.

Section 55.2: "What to Think" vs. "How to Think"
Tatiana's pedagogical approach is the crucial element that distinguishes a democratic education from an authoritarian one. The old system was based on teaching students what to think—a fixed set of facts and ideological interpretations to be memorized and repeated. Her new approach is based on teaching them how to think—the skills of critical inquiry, source analysis, and independent reasoning. This is a far more radical and ultimately more powerful project than simply replacing one set of propaganda with another. A citizenry that is taught what to think can have its opinions changed by the next demagogue. A citizenry that is taught how to think is inoculated against demagoguery itself.

Section 55.3: Generational Conflict and the Persistence of the Old Narrative
The confrontation with the angry parent illustrates the profound challenge of "de-programming" a nation. Adults whose entire worldview and sense of identity are built upon the old myths are often psychologically incapable of accepting a new, contradictory narrative. To accept that the war was a criminal act would, for the parent, be to accept that his brother died for a lie, a psychologically unbearable conclusion. This creates an inevitable generational conflict. The new government's project is not truly to convince the older generation—many of whom are a lost cause—but to equip the younger generation with the critical thinking tools necessary to resist inheriting the old grievances and pathologies. It is a long-term strategy, a bet on the future over the past.