This column by Liubov Tsybulska, Director of the NGO «Join Ukraine», was written for the Lithuanian outlet 15min.lt. The article analyses the role of the Russian Orthodox Church as part of the Kremlin’s hybrid influence infrastructure. Below we present the English-language version of the article.

In cognitive warfare, the struggle is not for territory but for people’s minds — their beliefs, values, identity, and faith. This is where a society’s readiness to resist, or to accept imposed decisions, is formed. The Kremlin understood this long ago. That is why the Russian Orthodox Church occupies a special place in its hybrid toolkit — an institution with direct access to the spiritual sphere, to trust, and to the moral compass of individuals.

Religion does more than shape opinions. It helps define who belongs and who does not, what is righteous and what is sinful. This is precisely why the Russian church network has become such a powerful instrument of influence for the Kremlin: it operates in the realm of trust, where politics and propaganda often encounter resistance.

In Ukraine, this was evident long before the full-scale invasion. The Russian church effectively functioned as an extension of Russian intelligence structures — influencing politics and elections, distorting the information space, and mobilising political support. Churches became sites of campaigning for pro-Russian candidates, while clerical networks were involved in informal decisions and influenced appointments in the security sector and the army.

After 2014, this role became even more pronounced. In Crimea, part of the clergy affiliated with the Moscow Patriarchate openly cooperated with Russian forces during the seizure of the peninsula, helping them establish access to local communities. The same model later appeared in other occupied territories: displacement of local religious structures, forced subordination to Moscow, pressure on communities, and bans on the Ukrainian language in religious services. In many cases, clergy moved far beyond spiritual activity — gathering intelligence, passing information about Ukrainian military positions, and identifying pro-Ukrainian residents.

These incidents are not isolated. As of September 2025, Ukraine’s Security Service had opened more than 180 criminal cases against clergy linked to the Moscow Patriarchate since the start of the full-scale invasion. The charges include collaboration, treason, and incitement of hostility. Even in early 2023, dozens of criminal proceedings and sanctions against figures associated with the structure were reported. Many had been cooperating with Russian intelligence services since 2014.

Concrete cases illustrate the pattern. A saboteur detained near Hostomel during an attempted Russian airborne landing turned out to be an archpriest of the Moscow-linked church. In the first days of Kyiv’s defence, he helped coordinate the actions of the invading forces. Another priest, a parish rector in the Sumy region, was sentenced to 15 years in prison for transferring information about Ukrainian defences to Russia. In Zaporizhzhia, a cleric coordinated an agent network of Russian military intelligence.

One of the most disturbing cases is that of Archpriest Andrii Pavlenko from Lysychansk. According to court materials, he provided Russian forces with information on Ukrainian troop positions, compiled “execution lists” of civilian activists and clergy from the Orthodox Church of Ukraine, and called for killings. Convicted of treason, he was later included in a prisoner exchange requested by Russia and traded for 28 Ukrainian soldiers. After the exchange, he was personally welcomed by Wagner Group late leader Yevgeny Prigozhin. What matters here is not only the espionage itself, but the fact that Russia treated the priest as a valuable operative, not a spiritual figure. His actions had direct, physical consequences — including the deaths of Ukrainian citizens.

Collaboration in the religious sphere has had two dimensions. On the one hand, coercion and repression were used against those who refused to cooperate with occupation authorities. On the other, some clergy actively participated in intelligence work, repression, and violence. Confession and pastoral conversations, in certain cases, became tools for gathering information and filtering the population.

Importantly, the role of the Russian Orthodox Church as a hybrid influence instrument extends far beyond Ukraine. Across Europe, its parishes have often become part of a broader infrastructure of influence. Churches are frequently built near strategic sites, while clergy have received awards from Russian intelligence services. In Bulgaria, Russian Orthodox priests were expelled for espionage. In the Czech Republic, church structures were used as meeting points for Russian operatives. In Norway, authorities revoked permission to build a chapel near a NATO radar station over national security concerns.

Analytical research indicates that the network of Russian Orthodox parishes in Europe is often located close to military bases, transport hubs, and government institutions. This creates potential infrastructure for intelligence gathering, logistics, and coordination. In such a configuration, the line between spiritual activity and intelligence work becomes increasingly blurred.

The Russian church therefore performs several functions within the Kremlin’s hybrid strategy. It legitimises war and political decisions inside Russia, builds influence networks abroad, operates in the realm of trust and belief, and in some cases serves as a channel for intelligence and coordination.

Within the logic of cognitive warfare, this is entirely predictable. Where the main battle is for perception and trust, an institution with access to the spiritual sphere becomes an exceptionally effective instrument.

That is why the Russian Orthodox Church increasingly appears as part of a transnational influence network operating in the interests of an aggressor state. Its activities combine propaganda, political pressure, corruption, information operations, and often intelligence functions.

The problem of the Russian Orthodox Church as a hybrid influence tool is not about religious competition or restricting freedom of belief. It is a matter of security. When a religious institution is used to enable and legitimise war or intelligence activity, the state must respond as systematically as it would to any other threat.

Freedom of religion must be clearly separated from the activities of structures working in the interests of an aggressor state. The right to believe cannot serve as cover for subversive operations.

The religious sphere should be treated as part of national security, not as a protected grey zone. This means strict financial transparency, real legal accountability for collaboration, systematic risk assessment, and coordination with international partners. Institutions functioning as channels of foreign influence cannot hide behind the language of spirituality.

At the same time, regulation alone is not enough. Cognitive warfare is not won by paperwork — and not even by bans, although they may sometimes be necessary. It is won by resilient societies: strong communities, capable institutions, credible leadership, education, and critical thinking. The real defence is not control over religion, but a society able to recognise when faith is being turned into a weapon.