MOSCOW, Russia — Hardly anyone calls the war by any other name anymore.
That was the first impression I got in talking to people in my hometown during a recent visit. TV news—and military recruiting posters plastered all over the city—still diligently use the state-mandated euphemism “special military operation,” a remnant of the early days of the Ukraine invasion. But nearly three years in, Russians know better. They may disagree on how it started, or why, but no one seems to doubt what it fundamentally is: a long, brutal, bloody war.
It’s striking because, in those early days, calling the war by its name was grounds for arrest; now it’s mundane, common knowledge.
I was born and raised in Moscow, and even after moving to New York over a decade ago, I flew back a few times a year to see my family. My visits became much less frequent once the war began; if you’re a journalist, there is always a level of personal risk given the degree of unpredictability and the number of unknowns. But that is more than counterbalanced by the joy of seeing my parents and my aging grandmother. So I made the trip just after Christmas, knowing that I wanted not only to spend time with my family but take the measure of Moscow as the war heads toward its third anniversary.
Over the course of five days in late 2024 and early 2025, I spoke to dozens of people all over the city—in bars, in shops, and on the streets. I talked to college students and retirees, to Moscow residents and visitors here for the holidays.
Some refused to talk to me, but even those who agreed to an on-the-record conversation—with a video camera pointing in their face, no less—were visibly on guard, to a degree I’ve never witnessed before.