The vacuum of peace education in the post-Soviet space: historical roots and contemporary causes

More than three decades after the collapse of the USSR, most post-Soviet countries still have a noticeable vacuum in the field of peace education. School curricula and public consciousness are still largely oriented toward military-patriotic values, while there is virtually no systematic education in the spirit of peace, nonviolence, and dialogue. This problem has deep historical roots and is perpetuated by contemporary institutional and cultural factors. Below, we analyze why peace education has not yet taken its rightful place in Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, Kazakhstan, and other Russian-speaking post-Soviet states, examining the Soviet legacy, post-Soviet transformations, the role of various institutions, Western inaction, language barriers, and unequal access to knowledge.

The origins of the current vacuum lie in the Soviet approach to the topic of peace. The USSR officially proclaimed its desire for world peace, but this rhetoric was propagandistic and one-sided. Back in 1949, the Soviet Peace Committee (SKZM) was created—the largest "peacekeeping" organization in the USSR. In fact, the CPW served as a tool of foreign policy propaganda: the committee conducted anti-war propaganda mainly against Western countries, condemning wars that were convenient for criticism (the Korean and Vietnam wars) and the expansion of NATO[2]. The main declared goal was to reach agreements with the US on the prohibition of nuclear weapons[3]. However, the committee's activities were part of a state information campaign and had little to do with genuine pacifism[4]. In other words, the Soviet "peace movement" was controlled by the state and served its ideological goals, portraying the USSR as peaceful and the West as aggressive.

The propaganda orientation of Soviet "peace education" was combined with a lack of pluralism of opinion. Dissent and independent pacifism were harshly suppressed. As early as the 1920s, Tolstoyan communities—followers of Leo Tolstoy who preached non-resistance to evil and refusal to serve in the military—were crushed. In the late USSR, any informal struggle for peace was considered one of the most dangerous activities: members of independent pacifist groups such as the "Trust Group" and "Free Initiative" were prosecuted under criminal law, placed under house arrest, and even sent to psychiatric clinics. The Soviet system did not see ideal citizens as peacemakers, but rather as "loyal conscripts" ready to obey orders unquestioningly. Military-patriotic education permeated schools and youth policy: army discipline was extolled as a model for civilian life, where there should be no room for dissent. Of course, the few who tried to openly profess the principles of non-violence or refused to take up arms on principle were subjected to repression—they were branded "sectarians" or "cosmopolitans" and silenced.

Thus, during the Soviet period, a fully-fledged peace education as a field of knowledge and practice did not develop. The term "peace education" began to penetrate official rhetoric only in the 1970s, when, under the influence of détente and the USSR's participation in UNESCO, the idea of "education in the spirit of peace" was proclaimed. But even then, the emphasis was on "disarmament education" and promoting the party line, rather than developing critical thinking about the nature of conflicts. Soviet textbooks spoke of the struggle for peace mainly in terms of opposition to imperialism, without actually touching on the topic of nonviolent conflict resolution at the individual or societal level. Pacifism as an independent value was viewed with suspicion, associated with a refusal to defend the Motherland. As a result, by the time the USSR collapsed, there were no traditions of an independent peace movement or academic programs in peace studies (the study of peace and conflict) in society. If there was any "peacefulness" in the mass consciousness of the 1980s (for example, under the influence of détente policies and slogans such as "Peace to the world!"), it was rather passive in nature. Some experts note that by the end of the Soviet era, a "culture of naive pacifism" had formed—a belief in a bright future without war, cultivated from above as a diplomatic resource (especially under Gorbachev), but without proper understanding or roots in society. This superficial pacifism, being part of the official line, was largely divorced from reality and was easily replaced by the disappointment and cynicism of the 1990s

After 1991, the vacant niche of peace education was never institutionally filled. The post-Soviet states inherited from the USSR a deeply rooted educational paradigm—militarized and authoritarian in essence—and generally continued it, albeit often unconsciously. As Ukrainian researcher Y. Shelyazhenko notes, in many new independent republics, young people are still inclined to be raised as "obedient soldiers rather than responsible voters." In the 1990s, the education system was severely overburdened and in chaos due to changing values, economic problems, and reforms, so the introduction of new courses on nonviolence or civil peace was far from a priority. The priorities became national history, statehood, religious revival, and market skills—but not the culture of peace.

The influence of educational policy during those years was reflected in the content of textbooks: in Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, and other countries, the reinterpretation of the national past, often in a heroic and patriotic spirit, took center stage. For example, since the mid-2000s, Russia has placed increasing emphasis on patriotic education: lessons, extracurricular activities, and movements (such as Yunarmiya) have been introduced to instill pride in military victories and a willingness to "defend the motherland." In such conditions, ideas of peaceful conflict resolution find it difficult to penetrate the mass consciousness. Institutional priorities have shifted toward strengthening sovereignty, traditional values, and controlled loyalty, especially in authoritarian regimes. Peace education, associated with human rights, critical thinking, and civic engagement, has often been perceived as something suspicious or alien.

Economic realities also played a role: in the impoverished 1990s, states lacked the resources to introduce innovative humanities disciplines or retrain teachers for new courses. Teachers' salaries fell dramatically; they had no time for experiments and survived by sticking to the old ways. In addition, cultural inertia proved to be strong: most teachers themselves grew up under the Soviet system and transmitted the familiar values of obedience and patriotism. Attempts to introduce alternative approaches came only from individual enthusiasts or small NGOs.

As a result, during the first post-Soviet decades, peace education never gained institutional "residence." Schools do not have a separate subject devoted to the culture of peace or nonviolent communication; topics such as tolerance, conflict mediation, and global understanding are only taught in a fragmented way, within the framework of other disciplines. As educators themselves acknowledge, "the subject of peace education is not usually directly included in school and university curricula," except that elements of it can be integrated into history, social studies, and other lessons. For example, a good world history teacher, when talking about the 20th century, could mention anti-war movements or the UN peacekeeping mission, but this is left to their personal discretion and is not a systematic requirement of the standard.

It should be noted that the post-Soviet space has not become any more peaceful than the West—on the contrary, the region has faced numerous conflicts, from Karabakh and Transnistria to wars in Chechnya, Georgia, and eastern Ukraine. It would seem that the need for peaceful resolution skills and a culture of dialogue should be obvious. However, states and societies have responded to conflicts mainly with force or propaganda, rather than education. Educating those who "yearn for peace" has not become a priority. Moreover, recent events have only reinforced the militaristic tendency: for example, the full-scale war between Russia and Ukraine since 2022 has led to the marginalization of peacekeeping rhetoric in both countries—it is perceived as a call for defeatism or as a threat to the patriotic spirit. In Russia, anti-war statements are suppressed, the word "peace" has been virtually eliminated from official discourse (the slogan "No to war!" is punishable by fines and arrest), and in Ukraine, against the backdrop of the people's struggle against the aggressor, ideas of reconciliation are also highly controversial. Thus, the post-Soviet niche of peace education has not only failed to fill the void left by the USSR, but in some places has become even narrower than it was before (in the late Soviet era, at least there were state slogans promoting peace, but now the peace agenda has been completely overshadowed by the reality of war).

Let us take a closer look at the contribution (or lack thereof) of various social institutions to the development of peace education in the post-Soviet space.

· Schools and the general education system. As noted, schools continue to focus on military-patriotic education. In Russia, a state program to reinstate the GTO standards has been in place since the 2010s, the Yunarmiya organization has been created, and schoolchildren are introduced to militarized rituals (lessons in courage, meetings with the military). In Belarus, the situation is similar, with cadet classes, the cult of Victory and the army. In the more democratic Ukraine, steps were taken before the war of 2022 to renew civic education, but since 2014, and especially after 2022, patriotic rhetoric and a focus on resistance to aggression have naturally dominated the school environment. Programs on peaceful conflict resolution, mediation, and nonviolence are almost absent from standard curricula. The exception is individual electives or clubs, often run by NGOs in schools (e.g., tolerance training, Peace Days on September 21, etc.). However, these are isolated initiatives. A typical schoolchild in a post-Soviet country learns much more about wars than about ways to prevent them.

· Universities and science. After 1991, there were major shifts in the academic environment for humanities scholars—new schools of thought became available, including Western works on conflict studies, political science, and sociology. A new specialty, "conflict studies," has even emerged—an interdisciplinary field at the intersection of psychology, sociology, and management, where students are taught to analyze and resolve conflicts. A number of Russian universities (L. Vygotsky Russian State University for the Humanities, some pedagogical universities, Synergy University, etc.) train conflictologists, providing them with the basics of mediation and negotiation, and some programs even include a course on the philosophy of peace. This is a positive step, but it should be understood that conflict studies remains a niche specialty, with low annual enrollment, and has little influence on overall educational policy. In the mass pedagogical and humanitarian specialties, there are usually no courses on peace education; future teachers of history, social studies, or languages are not taught how to educate children in the spirit of nonviolence. Thus, higher education has not prepared a critical mass of personnel who would bring the idea of peace education to schools.

As for research, the discipline of Peace and Conflict Studies, founded by Johan Galtung and actively developed in the West, is little known in post-Soviet academia. Individual courses on "the theory of peace and conflict resolution" were taught, for example, at Yerevan State University in the 2000s, but in general, this discipline has not become mainstream in Russia or its neighboring countries. It is telling that "Johan Galtung is little known in Russia" was noted as early as 2011. His key ideas (structural violence, "positive peace," etc.) have hardly made their way into textbooks. It can be said that universities in the post-Soviet world have not nurtured a new generation of peace educators, which preserves the status quo at the school level.

· Non-governmental organizations (NGOs). It was NGOs and activists who most often attempted to bring the values of peaceful dialogue to the post-Soviet space. In the 1990s and 2000s, with grant support from Western foundations, projects were carried out on tolerance and reconciliation in conflict zones (in the Caucasus and Central Asia), as well as training courses on human rights and nonviolent communication for young people. For example, the Eastern Europe Network for Civic Education (EENCE), founded in 2015 with the assistance of the German Foreign Ministry and the Federal Agency for Civic Education, brings together organizations and experts from Armenia, Azerbaijan, Belarus, Georgia, Moldova, Russia, and Ukraine to develop civic education aimed at "promoting democracy, peace, and sustainable development."[18] This and similar NGO initiatives have played a positive role, but they remain outside the state education system, reaching relatively small audiences of enthusiastic teachers or volunteers. Moreover, in a number of countries (Russia, Belarus), the activities of many NGOs are now severely hampered by repressive legislation ("foreign agents," etc.). Thus, the non-governmental sector has not been able to radically change the situation, although local successes (e.g., mediation programs in schools in certain cities, Peace Days celebrations, NGO-produced manuals on non-violent education) show that there is a demand for peace education, but it faces a lack of state support and sometimes outright bans.

Media and public opinion. The mass media largely shape the public perception of war and peace. In the post-Soviet media, especially the state media, there has been a shift towards militarized rhetoric in recent decades. Television channels in Russia cultivate an image of a hostile environment and the need for constant readiness for defense; war is often presented as heroic. In such conditions, peacemaking voices are drowned out or discredited. Opposition media and bloggers who speak out against war are marginalized. It is telling that the well-known journalist Svetlana Sorokina said: "I am a staunch pacifist. But pacifism has turned out to be irrelevant, just like journalism," bitterly acknowledging that the pacifist position has been pushed out of the public sphere in today's Russia. The situation is different in Ukraine (where society values peace but is forced to fight for its country), but the Ukrainian media space is naturally focused on patriotism and victory rather than abstract reflections on peace. Thus, the media does not promote the values of peaceful education to the masses. On the contrary, society is polarized into "pro-war" and "anti-war" camps, and even those who are against war do not always speak in terms of pacifism, but often only in favor of military victory, but with less bloodshed. Public opinion in many post-Soviet countries still tends to consider force a more effective tool than negotiation – an echo of decades of living in the paradigm of "if you want peace, prepare for war."

· Language policy and translated literature. The issue of language and the accessibility of key works on peace education deserves special attention. Most of the fundamental works in this field are written in English, Spanish, or other languages. During the Soviet era, translation policy was ideologically selective: many Western humanist thinkers were simply not published. After 1991, the situation improved in terms of censorship, but commercial and market barriers arose. Translations of classics of peace studies and nonviolent pedagogy were either delayed for decades or are still unavailable. For example, the works of Norwegian sociologist and peacemaker Johan Galtung, the founder of modern peace studies, are extremely poorly represented in Russian. His key book, Peace by Peaceful Means, has never been published in Russian; interestingly, it was translated into Armenian only in 2005 as part of a special EU grant. Galtung himself, as already mentioned, is little known to the general public in Russia. His concepts of "structural violence," "positive peace," and others remain the preserve of a narrow circle of specialists.

Another example is the Brazilian educator Paulo Freire, whose book Pedagogy of the Oppressed revolutionized the Western education system, giving rise to the field of critical pedagogy[20]. This work was published in 1968 and influenced educators from Latin America to Europe for decades, but a full translation into Russian only appeared in 2018! The publishing house KoLibri released a translation by Maria Maltseva-Samoilovich and Irina Piven—meaning that only 50 years after the original, Russian readers gained access to this foundation of critical humanities knowledge. There are many similar examples. Key texts on nonviolence (Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Gene Sharp), mediation and restorative justice, education for peace (John Dewey, Maria Montessori, Betty Reardon) have either never been published in Russian in large print runs, or have been published only once and have become bibliographic rarities. English-language content remains inaccessible to a significant part of the population due to insufficient knowledge of the language. According to various studies, only 10-15% of Russians can read English fluently, and even fewer among the older generation in other post-Soviet countries. This means that the vast majority of teachers, educators, and journalists simply have no physical access to contemporary materials on peace education unless they have been translated.

Mass perception and cultural attitudes. Finally, the general cultural background against which any ideas are accepted or rejected is important. In post-Soviet society, there is a historically conditioned wariness of pacifism. This is largely due to the memory of the horrific casualties of World War II—pacifists are often considered "unpatriotic," ready to betray their country in times of danger. From childhood, the idea is instilled that our grandfathers fought, and we must be ready to repeat their feat. This attitude makes it difficult to accept peaceful education: the desire to compromise or refuse to kill the enemy can be interpreted as weakness. In addition, decades of authoritarian culture have instilled in people the belief that they have little influence on the "big politics of war and peace" – that it is the authorities who decide. This leads to passivity: if tomorrow brings peace or war, how can we influence it? In such conditions, peace education aimed at forming an active civic position against violence is simply not in demand among the general public, and its significance is not recognized. Let's sum up the interim results: schools and universities in post-Soviet countries have not integrated peace education, the media and culture often promote opposing values, and NGOs and enthusiasts face systemic constraints. Add to this the language gap and the lack of translations, and it becomes clear why a kind of vacuum of knowledge about how to build peace has formed in the region.

It is worth asking: what about the international community? After the end of the Cold War, global humanitarian organizations and donors had a unique opportunity to help the former socialist bloc integrate not only economically, but also in terms of values, including through the promotion of a culture of peace. However, major international players—the UN, UNESCO, the European Union, and foundations—did not show sufficient activity in developing peace education in the post-Soviet space.

Why did this happen? First, in the 1990s, the West's priority was economic reform and democratization in the new independent states. Funds and efforts were directed toward supporting market reforms, elections, the establishment of the media, and local self-government. Education was funded mainly in the areas of administrative skills, management, and sometimes human rights. Almost no funds were allocated specifically for peace education, probably because it was believed that peaceful coexistence would automatically follow the end of ideological confrontation. In addition, the post-Soviet countries were not perceived as "hot spots" in need of urgent reconciliation programs (unlike, say, the Balkans, where wars were raging in the 1990s and peacekeeping missions and educational projects were sent). In other words, Western aid to the region had other priorities, and the topic of a culture of peace fell out of focus.

Secondly, international organizations such as UNESCO limited themselves to general declarations and isolated initiatives. UNESCO proclaimed the idea of "education for a culture of peace" globally, established special prizes for contributions to peace education in the 1980s and 1990s, and attempted to encourage the exchange of experiences. In Russia, the International Institute "Youth for a Culture of Peace and Democracy" was even created in 1997 under the auspices of UNESCO at the Moscow State University for the Humanities. Its stated goal is to "spread the ideas and principles of a culture of peace in Russia and abroad through scientific research and educational programs, shaping the ideals of a culture of peace in the younger generation." However, the scope of the institute's activities remained modest, and it did not have a broad impact on the education system. In other CIS countries, similar centers have hardly emerged. UNESCO also created a network of Associated Schools promoting the ideals of the UN (12,000 schools worldwide), but this initiative has spread weakly in the post-Soviet space (only a few schools in large countries). As a result, neither the UN nor UNESCO launched large-scale peace education programs in the region comparable, for example, to their programs for eliminating illiteracy or student exchanges.

Western foundations and governments also failed to give this topic the attention it deserved. Yes, there were targeted grants (such as the one used to translate Galtung's book in Armenia[26] or to fund EENCE in Eastern Europe[18]). But no systematic policy was developed. Political factors also played a part in this: by the early 2000s, relations between Russia and the West had deteriorated, and any foreign interference in the education sector became suspicious to the Kremlin. Similarly, in Belarus, Lukashenko's regime did not welcome Western "enlighteners." Even in Ukraine and Kazakhstan, where the authorities were more open, there were no specific requests for peace education—they asked the West for money for other needs. Donors usually follow requests or their own vision of priorities.

Finally, there may have been a misconception that since the Cold War was over, there was no longer any need to specifically promote a "culture of peace" in Eastern Europe—that these countries would adopt Western values on their own. Unfortunately, this assumption did not work out. The West missed an opportunity to lay the foundations for a peaceful worldview in the region's education systems, which could now, 30 years later, be bearing fruit. Today, as the conflict between Russia and Ukraine rocks Europe, we are reaping the bitter fruits of this oversight: on both sides of the trenches, people have been raised in a paradigm of force rather than dialogue.

To be fair, let's say that some positive shifts have finally begun to emerge. In the 2010s, international circles began to talk about the importance of education for peace and sustainable development. For example, the UN declared the decade (2001–2010) the International Decade for a Culture of Peace and Non-Violence for the Children of the World, although almost no special resources were allocated for this. In recent years, European structures have been supporting projects on media literacy and countering extremism, which are indirectly related to the promotion of peace. It is worth noting the efforts in the field of education for democratic citizenship (EDC) and human rights promoted by the Council of Europe: methodological guides (such as the famous Compass guide) have been published and translated into Russian. These programs were not explicitly called "peace education," but they included components of tolerance, intercultural dialogue, and nonviolence. Some teachers in post-Soviet countries have made use of these materials. However, without support at the level of state standards, their implementation is limited. It can be said that Western assistance was too fragmented and belated to reverse the trends.

The indirect conclusion is this: the international community, concerned with peace around the world, has shown striking short-sightedness in the case of the post-Soviet space. By failing to invest in a culture of peace here, we are now all facing serious security crises. Experts increasingly recognize that education is a key factor in conflict prevention and are calling on donors to demand that peacebuilding modules be included in any education reforms. For example, the aforementioned German Federal Agency for Civic Education has set itself the goal of funding civic education as an antidote to militarism. Ideally, large foundations could make the inclusion of peace education components a condition of their assistance to countries. As Jane Mann, director of the Cambridge Partnership for Education, notes, "the quickest way to bring peacebuilding into the education system is to make it a condition of funding," and conveys the idea that donors and politicians should insist on the inclusion of nonviolent conflict resolution in educational projects, along with issues of gender equality and sustainability[27]. Unfortunately, this approach was not applied in the region in the 1990s and 2000s, and now we have to make up for lost time against the backdrop of ongoing wars.

The consequences of these factors are clearly visible when comparing access to knowledge about peace education in the conventional "West" and in the post-Soviet world.

Over the past half-century, the West has accumulated a vast body of literature, methodologies, and educational practices devoted to peace education. Universities in the US, Canada, and a number of European countries offer programs in peace studies and conflict resolution, train specialists, and publish journals. Schools in many countries have included elements of nonviolent communication training: for example, in Finland, which has one of the best education systems, conflict resolution skills, fairness, and emotional health are built into the learning process from an early age. In a number of countries (Sweden, Norway, the Netherlands), school mediation services and lessons in intercultural understanding have long been practiced. Teachers have access to modern teaching materials and undergo training. Moreover, society as a whole values peacemaking skills: being a negotiator and being able to listen to the other side are socially approved qualities.

Now let's look at the post-Soviet space. Due to the language barrier and lack of translations, barely 10% of the world's extensive knowledge about peaceful education has penetrated here. Most pupils, students, and teachers have not read or heard about the works of Freire or Galtung, or about practices of nonviolent resistance. The gap between the West and the post-Soviet countries in this area is enormous. Specific examples illustrate this particularly clearly:

· University courses. In the US, the first program on peace education appeared in the late 1940s, and now hundreds of universities offer specializations in conflict studies and peace. In Russia, similar programs can be counted on one hand, and they only appeared in the 2010s. For example, at Moscow State University, MGIMO, or RUDN, there are no compulsory courses on peacebuilding for international relations or sociology students, whereas in Western universities, future international relations specialists are required to study conflict theory, mediation, and the work of international organizations in maintaining peace. Even in Eastern Europe, there have been some advances: the aforementioned example of Armenia, where the Yerevan Center for Human Development translated Galtung's major book and where a course on peace studies was taught at the university. In Russia and neighboring countries, however, this level of integration has not been observed.

· School and extracurricular activities. In Western schools, it is quite common to hold lessons or projects dedicated, for example, to peacemaking achievements – Nobel Peace Prize winners, the UN, peace treaties. Schoolchildren in France, for example, know about the humanism of Jean Jaurès or the pacifists after WWI. In post-Soviet history textbooks, however, the role of social peace movements is minimally reflected. For example, the anti-war movement of the 1960s in the West (protests against Vietnam) is a minor episode in our world history courses. A schoolchild in Kazakhstan or Belarus is unlikely to name any famous pacifists, but will be able to name military leaders. Even International Peace Day on September 21, which is celebrated by the UN, is often used in the West as an occasion for school events, but in our country only a few people know about it. According to Shelyazhenko, although hundreds of schools in the region celebrate Peace Day every year, this is only a small fraction, and it is often done formally (by hanging up posters). The educational environment also loses out: while in Western schools conflicts between children can be resolved through peer mediation or talking about feelings, in post-Soviet schools the principle of "might makes right" often prevails, or an authoritarian teacher intervenes. Western pedagogy pays more attention to cooperation skills and empathy as part of socialization, while ours is traditionally focused on knowledge acquisition and discipline.

· Media and public dialogue. In the West, the idea of pacifism is legitimate—there are influential anti-war organizations, and their voice is heard in the media, at least as one of several positions. In post-Soviet countries, the voices of pacifists or peace activists are often marginalised or ostracised. For example, Russian pacifists are denied even the legal right to alternative civilian service – military commissars and courts treat them with obvious prejudice, considering them either malingerers or traitors[31]. As a result, there are no "heroes of peace" in the public sphere, and there are almost no positive roles for peacemakers—instead, there are militarized heroes (remember the cult of the "polite people" or the DNR militants in part of society). At the level of mass culture, Western audiences have access to many films and books with pacifist themes (from All Quiet on the Western Front to Gandhi), while post-Soviet audiences have been raised on military epics and stories of heroic intelligence agents. This difference in cultural code reinforces unequal access to ideas of peace.

It can be argued that the post-Soviet space is one or two generations behind the rest of the world in the field of peace education. While educators in the West were discussing how to integrate global citizenship and negotiation skills into school curricula, our educators were often forced to return to educating "patriotic youth" using old methods. Of course, there are internal differences within the post-Soviet space itself: in the Baltic countries that have joined the EU, the situation is closer to that in Europe—for example, many progressive textbooks have been translated, and ethics and communication are taught in schools. In Georgia, civic education also became more active after the 2000s. But in general, the Russian-speaking space—Russia, Belarus, a significant part of Ukraine, Central Asia—retains much of the Soviet paradigm, only without the Soviet utopian rhetoric of peace.

The analysis shows that the lack of peace education in post-Soviet countries is systemic and complex in nature. It is not simply a gap in the curriculum, but rather a consequence of intertwined historical, political, and cultural factors. The Soviet legacy set the tone: peace = propaganda, war = heroism, dissent = crime. Post-Soviet transformations did not offer a counter-narrative, but only exacerbated the militarization of consciousness against the backdrop of new conflicts and national projects. Institutions—from schools to the media—reproduce old patterns, lacking the demand or resources to change them. External support that could stimulate change has proved insufficient and unfocused.

The scale of the problem is enormous. We are talking about hundreds of millions of people in dozens of countries who have never had the opportunity to learn the basics of world culture: Gandhi's ideas of nonviolence, the practices of dialogue, and stories of successful peaceful resistance to evil. This means that in a crisis situation (whether it be interethnic conflict, rising aggression, or international war), society lacks the "muscle" to respond peacefully. It either falls into aggression or apathy—but offers no third way. Hence the tragic events of recent years.

The systemic nature of the problem means that it is not enough to address it in a piecemeal manner. It is not enough to simply translate one of Galtung's books or hold a one-off seminar for teachers and consider the task accomplished. A comprehensive approach is required: a review of educational standards, retraining of teaching staff, the incorporation of values of peace into state ideology on a par with patriotism, and encouraging the media to cover the topics of war and peace responsibly. This is a huge challenge, one that may take years or decades to resolve, but it cannot be put off any longer.

The depth of the problem is also evident in the fact that it is self-perpetuating. Children raised without a culture of peace grow up to become adults who do not see the value of peaceful education for their own children. Breaking this cycle is difficult, but possible. The turning point could begin, for example, with the elites realizing the benefits of peaceful development. History provides examples of countries that, after bloody wars, drew conclusions and introduced pacifist education (for example, Japan and Germany radically revised their school curricula after 1945, incorporating a strong pacifist component). Perhaps the horror of the current conflicts will prompt post-Soviet societies to reevaluate their values.

It is important to emphasize that overcoming the vacuum in peace education is not an abstract humanitarian task, but a pressing necessity for the security and progress of the region. Teaching people how to live in peace means laying the foundation so that new generations do not repeat the mistakes of the old, do not shed blood where agreement is possible. This is a contribution to long-term stability, democracy, and prosperity.

What can be done in practical terms? First, integrate elements of peace education into existing subjects: history – teach not only about wars, but also about peace movements and treaties; literature – discuss works about the cost of violence; social studies – introduce modules on human rights, mediation, and tolerance. Second, prepare teachers through professional development courses, exchanges, and scholarships to study peace studies abroad, so that new approaches can emerge. Third, support the translation and publication of key works: classics and the latest research should be available in Russian, Ukrainian, Kazakh, and other languages of the region. Fourth, take advantage of the resources of international organizations: UNICEF, UNESCO, and the European Union now probably recognize the importance of a culture of peace—their grants and programs should be directed to Eastern Europe and Central Asia, funding school lessons on peace, summer friendship camps, and university departments of peace. Finally, work with public opinion—through documentaries, popular articles, blogs—to show the successes of nonviolence and tell the stories of outstanding peacemakers (Mandela, Dag Hammarskjöld, Albert Schweitzer, etc.) so that people's stereotypes about the "weakness" of pacifism change.

Of course, this is difficult to do, especially in an environment of censorship and confrontation. But that is precisely why it is important to start talking about this problem loudly. This article is one attempt to convey the scale and depth of the vacuum in peace education. Without filling this vacuum, the region is doomed to continue in a cycle of violence and repression. Knowledge is power, and knowledge about peace is double the power, because it gives hope of avoiding destruction. If post-Soviet societies manage to overcome the inertia of the past and nurture the ideals of peaceful coexistence, respect, and dialogue in the younger generations, everyone will win—both the East and the West. After all, as the preamble to the UNESCO Constitution states, "since wars begin in the minds of men, it is in the minds of men that the defences of peace must be constructed."

So far, this idea has taken root only weakly in the minds of the post-Soviet peoples, but strengthening it should be a priority in the coming years. Peace education is not a luxury, but a necessary condition for a peaceful future in Eurasia. We see how costly the vacuum in this area is, and we realize how valuable it would be to overcome it. Now is the time to join forces—government institutions, educators, NGOs, international partners—to make up for lost time and pass on to future generations the culture of peace that they so desperately need. This is an investment that will pay off a hundredfold: every problem resolved without war will save thousands of lives and pave the way for the common happiness of peoples living side by side.