The Russian Embassy in the United Kingdom posted a statement on 3 June 2025 insisting—unprompted—that “Russia poses no threat to the United Kingdom and its people” and that it harbours “no aggressive intentions” nor any “plans to attack Britain.”
Accompanied by a large graphic bearing the words “Russia has no plans to attack Britain” in bold text, the post was clearly designed to project calm and reason.
Unfortunately for the Russian diplomatic corps, nobody believed them.
This article is the opinion of the author and not necessarily that of the UK Defence Journal. If you would like to submit your own article on this topic or any other, please see our submission guidelines.
The backlash was swift and predictably cynical. Responses flooded in, pointing to Moscow’s long record of “not planning” to do things that it soon does anyway. The invasion of Ukraine in 2022, for example, followed months of public denials that any such operation was on the cards. Russian officials insisted troop movements were “exercises”—right up until they weren’t.
If this public diplomacy campaign was meant to defuse tension, it backfired spectacularly.
Adding to the irony, former Russian President and current deputy chairman of Russia’s Security Council, Dmitry Medvedev, has publicly fantasised about the UK’s destruction. In a post still visible on the platform, he declared that Britain was “likely to sink in the next few years” and that “our hypersonic missiles will help if necessary,” punctuated with an emoji. That sort of comment sits uneasily alongside embassy statements that suggest Russia simply wants a peaceful relationship with the West.
So why post this now?
Russian messaging of this kind is not about truth. It’s about manipulation. The Kremlin has long practised what’s called reflexive control—the strategic dissemination of misinformation to shape how adversaries interpret Russian intent. By loudly insisting that it poses no threat, Moscow isn’t necessarily hoping to be believed. It’s attempting to sow confusion, generate debate, and discredit Western narratives.
This fits neatly into Russia’s broader grey zone playbook, activities that fall short of open warfare but still undermine, harass, or destabilise adversaries.
Britain has been subject to this kind of activity for years. From interference in democratic processes to sustained cyber attacks against institutions and infrastructure, Russian hostile actions are well documented. The UK’s National Cyber Security Centre has repeatedly pointed the finger at Russian state-sponsored groups, with critical sectors such as health, defence, and academia being regular targets.
Grey zone tactics also include disinformation campaigns, sabotage, espionage, and the use of diplomatic platforms to inject misleading narratives into public discourse.
What’s striking in the replies is the few who leap to Moscow’s defence. There are always some willing to echo Kremlin talking points, whether through ideology, naivety, or a deep dislike of their own government. These so-called “useful idiots”, a term popularised during the Cold War, repeat foreign propaganda often under the guise of contrarianism or “asking questions.”
This isn’t accidental. The Kremlin depends on amplifiers in Western discourse to spread doubt and division. When someone shrugs off Russian aggression or parrots the idea that NATO is to blame for tensions, they are performing precisely the function Moscow hopes for. The Russian government doesn’t need everyone to believe it—it just needs enough people to question the truth.
Some replies brought up the 2018 Salisbury nerve agent attack, a case study in grey zone operations. A banned military-grade nerve agent was deployed on British soil in an attempt to assassinate a Russian national. A British citizen later died. Despite overwhelming circumstantial evidence and intelligence pointing to the GRU, Russia has continued to deny involvement—while mocking attempts to hold it accountable.
The diplomatic fallout continues to this day.
Russia’s strategy isn’t new, but the timing of this message suggests a growing concern about how it’s perceived in the UK. With Britain leading European military aid to Ukraine, reinforcing NATO’s eastern flank, and bolstering cyber defence posture, Russia’s interest in discrediting or distracting from UK resolve is intensifying.
The embassy’s message, then, is best read not as reassurance but as misdirection. It doesn’t need to be believed to be effective—only to distract, delay, or divide.
Fortunately, the public response suggests that whatever spell the Kremlin hoped to cast, it isn’t working. Not this time.
This isn’t the first time we’ve had to cover bizarre output from official Russian accounts. In 2022, another post from the Russian Embassy accused myself and other journalists of being paid by the Ukrainian government to write about the sinking of a Russian cruiser. I’m still waiting on the cheque.
