Since the onset of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, a sophisticated and persistent disinformation campaign has taken root, weaponizing humor to erode the credibility of President Volodymyr Zelenskyy and the Ukrainian state. This phenomenon, frequently labeled as “hahaganda,” leverages satire, parody, and mockery—rather than overt fabrication—to systematically undermine trust. By portraying the Ukrainian leadership as ridiculous, compromised, or insincere, these campaigns aim to detach Ukraine from its international allies, creating a false narrative that the country stands alone and that its leaders are unworthy of global support.
The mechanics of this strategy are explored through the ATAFIMI project, a collaboration between fact-checking organizations across Europe, including StopFake, Delfi, Myth Detector, and Maldita.es. Experts define “hahaganda” not as an attempt to convince the public of a specific lie, but as a long-term effort to humiliate and degrade the standing of an enemy. By using ridicule, these actors bypass the reader’s critical thinking, making it easier for toxic narratives to take hold through the shareable, viral nature of memes, caricatures, and comedic content. This approach has proven particularly effective in digital spaces where the emotional resonance of a joke often travels further than a dry, factual correction.
As technology has evolved, so has the weaponry of these disinformation campaigns. In the early stages of the war, propaganda relied on crude photo manipulation, such as pasting Zelenskyy’s face onto inflammatory images or modifying his attire to mock his character. However, the rise of generative artificial intelligence has drastically escalated the sophistication of these operations. Today, propagandists produce hyper-realistic deepfakes—such as videos of the president bowing to foreign leaders or announcing a fake capitulation—which are designed to be indistinguishable from reality. These AI-driven visuals are then amplified by networks of bot accounts to create the illusion of grassroots outrage or broad international condemnation.
A recurring hallmark of these campaigns is the use of “active measures,” where fabricated evidence is carefully planted to influence perceptions in major Western capitals. This includes the creation of fake street graffiti in cities like Madrid, Paris, and Warsaw, or the forgery of iconic magazine covers like Charlie Hebdo. By mimicking the branding of trusted Western media outlets, these campaigns attempt to “launder” their propaganda. The goal is to overwhelm journalists and fact-checkers with a flood of manufactured controversies, a tactic known as “Operation Overload,” which aims to exhaust those tasked with uncovering the truth while simultaneously spreading chaos throughout the global information ecosystem.
The scope of this digital warfare extends beyond political leaders, targeting the reputation of the Ukrainian military with the intent of crushing morale. By deploying AI-generated imagery and videos, propagandists have created a consistent stream of content depicting Ukrainian soldiers as incompetent, overweight, or desperate, aiming to demoralize the public and dissuade potential international support. These videos often mimic the formats of legitimate news programs, lending them a deceptive veneer of authority. By tapping into sensitive themes—such as the reluctance to serve or the fear of collapse—these campaigns attempt to frame the Ukrainian war effort as a failing enterprise populated by unwilling or unfit participants.
Ultimately, the success of these tactics relies on the participation of the public. When social media users share a humorous, albeit manipulated, image of Zelenskyy or a viral video of a “desperate” soldier, they become unwitting conduits for a larger political agenda. The sheer speed and scale of this content, spreading across Telegram, TikTok, and Facebook, create a hostile environment where objective truth struggles to keep pace with viral emotion. Understanding “hahaganda” is therefore essential, as it highlights that in modern information warfare, the most dangerous weapon is often a joke designed to make us laugh at the expense of someone else’s resilience.