The Theology of War: Andrzej Marszewski and the Spiritual Front in Ukraine

By Matthew Parish

Tuesday 6 October 2026

There is a recurring problem with Western analysis of Russia’s war against Ukraine. We like things that can be counted. Tanks can be counted, artillery shells can be counted, casualties can be estimated, kilometres of territory can be measured and defence expenditure can be expressed conveniently as a percentage of gross domestic product. Religion, mythology, historical memory and civilisational identity are altogether more troublesome. They cannot readily be placed into spreadsheets, and therefore the secular bureaucracies of Western governments have a tendency to regard them as decoration around the supposedly serious business of power.

Andrzej Marszewski, a guest contributor at the Royal United Services Institute (RUSI), has made something of an intellectual speciality out of arguing that this is a mistake. His background is unusual for a defence commentator. He has studied history and theology, served in the British Territorial Army, undertaken humanitarian work during the Bosnian war and worked in pastoral ministry. RUSI describes his particular interest as the intersection between religion, theology and conflict. This combination inevitably produces a rather different perspective from that of the conventional defence analyst examining satellite photographs of Russian ammunition depots.

The most interesting question is whether Marszewski’s theological lens actually helps us understand Russia’s war against Ukraine or whether, occasionally, it encourages us to see theology where more ordinary explanations involving imperialism, coercion and political power will suffice.

The answer, perhaps frustratingly, is both.

The Russian war beyond the battlefield

Marszewski’s most substantial RUSI contribution directly addressing Ukraine is his September 2026 essay, Moscow’s Other Front: Why Ukraine’s Churches Are a Security Issue. Its central argument is important. Russia’s conception of Ukraine cannot adequately be understood solely through conventional geopolitical categories because Russian nationalism has fused territorial, historical and religious claims. In this account, the Moscow Patriarchate is not merely a church that happens to support Vladimir Putin. It forms part of the institutional machinery through which an essentially imperial conception of Russia is articulated.

This is not an eccentric thesis. There is now substantial scholarship examining precisely this relationship. The World Russian People’s Council, chaired by Patriarch Kirill, notoriously characterised the conflict in 2024 as a “Holy War”, while academic work has examined how Orthodox symbolism, Russian nationalism and state security narratives have become mutually reinforcing. Recent scholarship has described this process as the “sacralisation” of Russian security policy and has identified sacred war, moral decline and hostility towards the West as recurring elements of official discourse.

Marszewski is therefore right about something that Western observers sometimes underestimate. Putin’s Russia does not operate with the clean conceptual divisions familiar to liberal Western states. Church, state, history, intelligence, culture and national identity overlap. The distinction between propaganda and belief may itself be less important than Western analysts imagine. A proposition can simultaneously be cynical propaganda and something its propagators partly believe.

This matters enormously in Ukraine because Kyiv occupies an extraordinary place within Russian historical mythology. The medieval polity of Kyivan Rus and the baptism of Prince Volodymyr in 988 have become raw materials in competing national narratives. Ukraine sees this history as part of the inheritance of an independent Ukrainian nation. Moscow has repeatedly presented it as evidence that Russians and Ukrainians belong to a single historical civilisation.

Marszewski expresses the point strikingly: without Kyiv, Russia can retain an empire but loses much of the story explaining where that empire supposedly began. (⁠Rusi)

That is a perceptive observation.

Where theology becomes geopolitics

The ecclesiastical history reinforces his argument. The creation of the independent Orthodox Church of Ukraine and its recognition by the Ecumenical Patriarchate in 2019 was not merely an obscure dispute between men wearing elaborate robes. It represented a profound institutional rupture with Moscow. Religious jurisdiction increasingly came to correspond with Ukrainian political sovereignty.

Recent academic work provides particularly interesting support for Marszewski’s intuition. A 2026 study comparing the Moscow Patriarchate’s responses to Russia’s wars in Georgia and Ukraine found a conspicuous difference. Moscow exercised greater religious restraint during the Georgian war but sacralised the Ukrainian conflict. The authors argue that one reason was precisely the contested ecclesiastical jurisdiction in Ukraine following the autocephaly dispute.

That is significant because it suggests that religion is not merely colourful rhetoric painted retrospectively onto a conventional war. Ecclesiastical geography and political geography interact. Churches provide networks, symbols, buildings, loyalties, historical narratives and claims of jurisdiction. In an imperial system these things can become instruments of political authority.

Marszewski is similarly persuasive when he warns against treating Orthodoxy itself as synonymous with Moscow. There are multiple Orthodox churches with different histories and political relationships, and the Ecumenical Patriarchate’s recognition of Ukrainian autocephaly illustrates precisely why accepting Moscow’s implicit claim to represent the Orthodox world would itself amount to accepting part of the Kremlin’s geopolitical narrative.

From Ukraine, this argument appears less theoretical than it might from London. Russia has repeatedly attempted to destroy not merely Ukrainian military capacity but the idea that Ukraine possesses a historical identity independent of Russia. Language, education, monuments, museums, archives, churches and cultural heritage consequently become part of the battlefield. Religious history fits comfortably into that wider campaign.

The danger of explaining too much

Nevertheless there is a weakness inherent in Marszewski’s approach. Once one possesses an unusually powerful analytical lens, there is always a temptation to look through it too often.

Religion undoubtedly assists in explaining Russian narratives about Ukraine. It is considerably less convincing as an explanation for why Russia invaded Ukraine in the first place. Marszewski himself recognises this, explicitly observing that imperial ambition rather than theology defined the invasion and that Putin does not conduct foreign policy from a catechism. That qualification is essential and perhaps deserves even greater prominence than he gives it.

The Russian Federation behaves in many respects like an authoritarian imperial power pursuing perfectly recognisable strategic interests. She seeks territorial depth, control over neighbouring states, strategic ports, military advantage, political subordination of former imperial territories and exclusion of competing powers from what it regards as its sphere of influence. None of these objectives requires theology.

Indeed the Soviet Union pursued remarkably similar geopolitical interests while officially atheist. Moscow sought domination of Eastern Europe, suppressed independent political movements, invaded neighbouring states and insisted upon privileged security interests around its borders without needing the blessing of Patriarch Kirill.

This historical continuity should make us cautious about assigning excessive causal importance to contemporary Russian Orthodoxy. The Russian state has repeatedly changed the ideological vocabulary through which imperial power is justified. Tsarism employed monarchy, Orthodoxy and empire. The Soviet Union employed Marxism-Leninism, proletarian internationalism and socialist fraternity. Putin’s Russia employs patriotism, historical grievance, the Great Patriotic War, traditional values and increasingly Orthodox civilisation.

The vocabulary changes rather more readily than the geography.

Marszewski’s strongest formulation is therefore not that religion causes Russian imperialism but that religion supplies contemporary Russian imperialism with legitimacy, emotional depth and an account of historical destiny. That distinction matters.

Russkiy Mir

The concept of Russkiy Mir, the “Russian World”, lies at the centre of this issue. It imagines a cultural and civilisational community extending beyond the formal borders of the Russian Federation and embracing populations connected through Russian language, history, culture and Orthodox inheritance. In Ukraine this becomes especially dangerous because the concept undermines the philosophical basis of Ukrainian sovereignty.

If Russians and Ukrainians constitute one historical civilisation, then Ukrainian independence becomes susceptible to presentation not as ordinary national self-determination but as an artificial division imposed upon an organic historical community. Once that proposition is accepted, aggression can be re-described as reunification and conquest as restoration.

This is one of Marszewski’s most useful contributions to the debate. Western diplomacy tends to assume that borders are principally legal facts. Moscow’s ideological language sometimes treats borders as temporary political interruptions within a deeper historical space.

That distinction has consequences for any eventual peace settlement. A ceasefire may settle where Russian soldiers are positioned without settling Russia’s conception of what Ukraine is.

Marszewski therefore argues that a territorial settlement cannot by itself extinguish the ideological foundations for renewed conflict. On this point he is surely correct. Indeed the observation extends beyond religion. Unless Russia ultimately accepts that Ukrainians constitute a political community entitled to determine their own institutions, alliances, language, culture and historical interpretation, virtually any peace agreement contains within it the possibility of another war.

The difficult Ukrainian church question

Marszewski is at his most balanced when discussing Ukraine’s treatment of religious organisations historically connected with Moscow. Here he avoids the comfortable temptation simply to repeat Kyiv’s position.

Ukraine has genuine security reasons to scrutinise institutions retaining organisational, ideological or personal connections with Russia. Searches of church properties earlier in the war produced Russian propaganda materials, evidence of Russian citizenship among some clergy and other material that Ukrainian authorities regarded as evidence of hostile influence. Against the background of invasion, occupation and collaboration, it would be extraordinarily naïve to insist that religious institutions must automatically remain outside counter-intelligence scrutiny.

Yet the opposite danger exists. Religious affiliation cannot become a substitute for evidence of disloyalty.

Marszewski therefore argues that Ukraine should proceed through individual evidence, due process and genuine rights of appeal rather than treating ecclesiastical affiliation as presumptive proof of collaboration. He notes that international human-rights bodies have expressed concerns about the breadth of Ukraine’s legislation while simultaneously recognising the genuine security problem Kyiv faces. Ukraine’s own government has rejected allegations that the legislation constitutes a prohibition of churches, arguing that it instead prevents religious organisations from remaining subordinate to governing centres in the aggressor state.

This is exactly the sort of uncomfortable question serious analysis should address. Ukraine is fighting Russia precisely because Ukraine wishes to remain a European constitutional state rather than become part of Russia’s authoritarian political order. The rule of law is therefore not an inconvenient luxury to be discarded during the war. It is part of what the war is about.

At the same time, Western critics sitting comfortably thousands of kilometres from Russian missiles should hesitate before pretending that Kyiv’s security concerns are imaginary. Religious freedom does not entail a right to conduct espionage, promote an invading power or collaborate with occupation authorities. The difficult task is distinguishing protected belief from hostile activity.

Marszewski gets this balance substantially right.

The Vatican question

Another interesting strand of his work concerns the Vatican. Marszewski argues that the Holy See’s peculiar diplomatic position should be preserved rather than forcing it into straightforward alignment with Western policy. The Vatican’s usefulness, in his view, derives partly from its ability to maintain channels that governments cannot.

Again there is evidence for this proposition. Vatican diplomacy has remained engaged in humanitarian questions including prisoners, missing civilians and Ukrainian children transferred into Russian territory. Cardinal Matteo Zuppi’s mission has continued these efforts under Pope Leo XIV.

Yet here Marszewski’s sympathy for religious diplomacy arguably deserves greater scepticism.

The Vatican’s desire to remain above geopolitical confrontation can become morally awkward when one party has invaded another. Diplomacy requires communication with unpleasant governments, but excessive ecclesiastical even-handedness risks obscuring the elementary fact that Russia invaded Ukraine rather than Ukraine invading Russia. Calls upon “both sides” to pursue peace can sound very different in Kyiv, Kharkiv or Kherson than they do in Rome.

The Holy See’s independence from NATO policy is useful precisely because it provides an alternative channel. But independence should not slide into ambiguity about aggression. There is an unavoidable tension between the Vatican’s pastoral aspiration to speak to everyone and the political reality that wars contain aggressors and victims.

Marszewski recognises some of this danger, particularly Moscow’s ability to exploit religious diplomacy for propaganda purposes. But his analysis might profit from pushing the problem further. Soft power works only if the parties attribute moral authority to the intermediary. Moral authority, in turn, can be eroded by excessive reluctance to distinguish responsibility.

The technological Marszewski

There is another side to Marszewski’s writing that is worth considering because it prevents him from being caricatured simply as “the theology man”. Outside RUSI he has written extensively about drones, mines, electronic warfare and Ukrainian defence innovation.

His writing for Defence Alternatives repeatedly emphasises a lesson Ukraine has taught Western militaries: wartime innovation rewards speed, decentralisation and ruthless feedback from the battlefield. In discussing drones, he argues against a false choice between exquisite high-technology systems and cheap mass-produced platforms. The useful military system is ultimately the one that survives contact with operational reality.

That proposition is difficult to dispute.

His recent reporting on Ukrainian missile development similarly contains a useful note of caution. Manufacturer claims about range and warhead size do not establish accuracy, reliability, resistance to electronic warfare or achievable production volumes. Nevertheless, indigenous Ukrainian weapons production reduces dependence upon foreign stockpiles and, crucially, upon political restrictions governing the use of Western weapons.

This practical strand strengthens his theological analysis rather than weakening it.

Marszewski appears to understand that wars operate simultaneously at several levels. There is the immediate contest of drones, missiles, mines, electronic warfare and logistics. There is the political contest over Western support. There is the economic contest over production. And beneath all these lies a struggle over national identity and the historical legitimacy of the Ukrainian state.

The danger comes only when these layers are confused.

A Russian FPV drone does not become more lethal because Patriarch Kirill blesses the Russian war effort. It becomes lethal because somebody manufactures it, supplies it, communicates with it and flies it into a Ukrainian position. Yet the willingness of Russian society to manufacture millions of weapons, tolerate enormous casualties and sustain a prolonged war may partly depend upon narratives explaining why those sacrifices possess meaning.

There theology, history and mythology return to the battlefield.

What Marszewski sees that others miss

The principal merit of Marszewski’s work is therefore not that he has discovered a secret theological explanation for the Russo-Ukrainian war. He has not, and to his credit he does not quite claim to have done so.

His contribution is to insist that wars are fought by human beings rather than by organisational diagrams.

People fight because they are ordered to fight, because they are paid, because they are frightened, because they hate, because they love their country, because they believe their families are threatened, because propaganda has persuaded them, because refusing may be dangerous and occasionally because they believe history or God requires it of them. Modern strategic analysis sometimes behaves as though these inconvenient human motives can be reduced to force-generation tables.

They cannot.

Marszewski’s background in theology consequently gives him a useful intellectual comparative advantage. He understands religious language from the inside sufficiently well to recognise when theological concepts are being transformed into instruments of state power. In the Russian case this is particularly valuable because the Kremlin’s political ideology is deliberately syncretic. Soviet nostalgia sits beside Orthodox imagery; Stalin appears alongside saints; imperial eagles coexist with Soviet flags; the mythology of 1945 is combined with medieval Rus; nationalism, Christianity and nostalgia for a formally atheist superpower somehow inhabit the same ideological universe.

Logical consistency is not the point. Political mobilisation is.

Where greater scepticism is required

Nevertheless, analysts of religion and conflict should impose upon themselves the same discipline demanded of military analysts. Correlation is not causation. Rhetoric is not necessarily motivation. Institutional proximity does not prove operational coordination. A sermon is not an order of battle.

There is also a risk of treating “Russia” as though she possesses a single theological consciousness. She plainly does not. Religious observance is comparatively limited, Russian society is heterogeneous and the motives of Kremlin officials, soldiers, propagandists, priests and ordinary citizens cannot simply be collapsed into the doctrines articulated by senior clergy.

The Moscow Patriarchate may matter politically without the Russian population becoming intensely religious.

Indeed this paradox deserves more attention. The Kremlin does not require millions of Russians to become practising Orthodox Christians. It merely requires Orthodoxy to function as a language of civilisation. One need not attend church every Sunday to believe that Russia represents traditional Christian civilisation against a decadent West.

Religion in this context behaves less like personal faith and more like national mythology.

That distinction actually strengthens the best parts of Marszewski’s thesis while limiting its excesses. The strategic importance of Russian Orthodoxy should not be measured by church attendance. It should be measured by the extent to which ecclesiastical institutions and religious concepts help legitimise the state’s conception of Russia itself.

The war over the past

Ultimately the most compelling element in Marszewski’s Ukraine analysis is his insistence that the war is partly a struggle over history.

Russia is not merely demanding Ukrainian territory. She contests Ukraine’s account of herself. Moscow repeatedly challenges the proposition that Ukraine possesses an autonomous historical trajectory, separate cultural inheritance and sovereign right to decide its geopolitical future. The struggle over churches is therefore part of a much larger contest involving language, monuments, historical figures, education and collective memory.

Ukraine’s resistance has produced the opposite effect from that apparently intended. Instead of reintegrating Ukrainians into a Russian civilisation, the invasion has accelerated the construction of a Ukrainian political identity explicitly independent of Moscow. The ecclesiastical separation Marszewski describes is one manifestation of that wider historical divorce.

This may eventually prove one of Russia’s greatest strategic defeats.

Russia might retain occupied territory. She might exhaust Western governments. She might destroy Ukrainian infrastructure and continue killing Ukrainian soldiers and civilians. What she has found vastly more difficult is persuading Ukrainians that they are Russians. No artillery shell can accomplish that.

Marszewski’s work is valuable because it reminds strategists that this intangible battlefield exists. His occasional tendency towards theological magnification should be resisted, because Russia’s war remains fundamentally an imperial war conducted through very material instruments of coercion. But dismissing the religious dimension altogether would be an equal and probably greater mistake.

The strongest interpretation of his argument is therefore a modest one. Theology does not explain everything about Russia’s war in Ukraine. It does not explain Russian logistics, force structure, industrial capacity, tactical adaptation or the immediate calculations of the Kremlin. Nor should every utterance of Patriarch Kirill be mistaken for a window into Vladimir Putin’s private mind.

What theology helps explain is the story Russia tells herself about why Ukraine belongs within its world.

And stories matter in long wars. They determine which sacrifices governments can demand, which defeats can be endured, which enemies can be demonised and which compromises can eventually be accepted. Tanks establish where an army can advance. Stories establish where a nation believes its borders ought to be.

That is why Marszewski is worth reading, even when one disagrees with him. He draws attention to a dimension of the Russo-Ukrainian conflict that conventional strategic analysis too readily consigns to the footnotes. His best insight is not that the war is secretly about religion. It is that Russian imperialism has acquired a religious vocabulary, and that vocabulary helps reveal the much deeper difficulty confronting any future settlement.

A peace treaty can draw a line on a map. The harder task is persuading Russia that Ukraine exists on the other side of it.