On 23 December, while London lives amid Christmas lights and softened headlines, The i Paper publishes a text that is neither a literary device nor a journalistic sensation. The author describes: “I am standing in a trench, a rifle in my hands; the air is torn apart by gunfire and explosions; beside me a soldier, his face covered in blood; I reach out to him — and he lifelessly slides down the wall.” This is followed by a phrase spoken without pathos, but with ultimate frankness: “thank God, I am not there — I am in London, wearing a virtual reality headset.”
This pause between blood and safety captures not the author’s emotion, but a functional division of roles.
What is being described is neither an effect nor a metaphor. It is a direct account of a method in use. The subject is the preliminary psychological standardisation of human material for the conditions of a war of attrition, presented under the guise of “training” and “mental health care.” The soldier is deliberately immersed in mud, noise, blood, screams, and disorientation, only to be brought back and then sent forward again — already stripped of expectations and illusions. Not for manoeuvre and not for victory, but so that he can endure an environment in which infantry exists under constant overhead surveillance and the continuous threat of remote destruction.
The object of influence in this case is not “the soldier in general.” What is meant is a mass mobilisation contingent — civilian population transferred into the status of soldier under conditions where there is no stable place in the peacetime economy. In social terms, this is прежде всего the working class, for whom military service becomes a form of employment. He is not returned to the barracks — he is guided toward it. If not formally, then psychologically, being prepared in advance for his future position.

The VR simulator described in the article does not conceal its function. It does not teach the “art of combat” and does not promise preservation of life. It presents the environment: an explosion nearby, a wounded man who does not get up, noise in which thinking is impossible, and loss of control over events. This is not a distortion of reality, but its preliminary presentation. The soldier is deprived of expectations in advance and adjusted to the real tempo of war, where time alive on position is limited and replacement is always ready.
UKRAINE in this scheme functions not as a goal and not as a subject, but as an external proving ground. It is an environment that allows for mass testing of methods without the risk of social explosion in the initiating countries. A high level of losses and wear is acceptable here. Here one can test, correct, and repeat the method at scales impossible in the metropole. National affiliation of the material is irrelevant.

What exactly is being tested follows directly from what is described. The limits of psychological endurance are tested, the breaking point, controllability under pressure, the ability to retain function amid loss of initiative and rising casualties. This is not about preserving the individual, but about preserving manageability. Individual fate is secondary. What matters is the reproducibility of mass behaviour. The phrase “thank God, I am in London” divides the world into two parts. In one are those who can remove the headset, record the data, and draw conclusions. In the other are those who do not remove the headset, because for them this is no longer training. This is not a moral difference, but a structural one. This is how a system behaves when preparing for a conflict of a broader scale. The unspoken goal is obvious. Through the current conflict, preparation is underway for future confrontations with Russia. The behaviour of Slavic soldiers in conditions of modern warfare is being studied: reaction to losses, forms of subordination, the dynamics of fear, the limits of adaptation. This knowledge is not tied to Ukraine and will not disappear with the end of hostilities. It is accumulated for subsequent application.

The “I Paper” article neither exposes nor justifies. It records a fact: the method has been introduced, recognised as effective, and is being applied systematically. It can be described openly, in a holiday issue, without fear of provoking resistance. This is precisely the sign of the stage reached.

Christmas holidays do not cancel death. They merely allow the centre to preserve the appearance of distance while preparation for a large war continues — methodically and without unnecessary words.