Moscow is deeply influenced by Russia's history as an empire, with the towering walls and turrets of the Kremlin creating a sense of insignificance among visitors in Red Square.

A similar sensation engulfs me when I journey to Victory Park, merely five miles away. This expansive complex of museums and monuments stands as a tribute to the Soviet Union's triumph over Nazi Germany.

At its heart lies an immense plaza crowned by a towering obelisk that soars 141.8 meters (465 feet) into the sky - each centimeter symbolizing a day during the Great Patriotic War, the Soviets' term for their World War Two involvement following the Nazi incursion.

My visits coincide with Russia's National Day of the Flag, when an immense tricolor - purportedly the nation's largest - is ceremoniously unfurled upon the square. Encircled by resolute lines of Russian soldiers, the flag unfolds as a military ensemble fills the air with stirring patriotic melodies. The director of the museum delivers an address, underscoring how such moments "forge a bond among our people".

The Kremlin has become more proactive in promoting such displays of patriotism, particularly since the extensive invasion of Ukraine.

Within the Victory Museum, an exhibition captures the essence of the "heroes" involved in a "special military operation". Information panels draw parallels between Russian forces engaged in Ukraine and the Soviet soldiers of World War Two.

In my interaction with Andrei Afanasiev, a blogger and university professor with pro-Kremlin leanings, he concurs to meet and share his perspectives.

He asserts that patriotism assumes heightened significance during times of conflict, and he labels what he terms "the West's aggression against Russia" as a factor that has awakened a realization among Russians about self-reliance.

He states, "One's reliance must be on oneself, one's homeland, and one's armed forces. Without a doubt, patriotism has surged beyond its previous levels. Warfare galvanizes and unifies us."

When I inquire whether Andrei deems Russia to be faltering in the war, he counters, "I would not characterize it [that way]. I maintain faith in Russia's triumph. We are prepared for victory."

While state-run Russian television expounds upon "achievements" and "advancements", the actual state of affairs paints a different picture.
"The Russian military understand they are in a serious fix. They have lost territory… morale is not very high at all," a Russian military analyst, who wishes to remain anonymous due to fears of repercussions, tells the BBC.

"They're not prepared for modern warfare. Losses are high."

Has the president told the truth about the real situation on the battlefield, I ask? Of course not, he says. "The lying happens on the entire chain of command. As information goes up it becomes increasingly distorted."

The analyst tells me Russian officers in Ukraine, in the face of Kyiv's counteroffensive, are "nervous" because "they're just hanging on".

It's not just the Russian military who are anxious. The overall feeling I get in Moscow is one of a general state of nervousness. And there's plenty to worry about.

In June, Yevgeny Prigozhin launched a mutiny and marched on the capital. The leader of the Wagner mercenary group was then reportedly killed in a mysterious plane crash, leading to accusations of Kremlin involvement.

Earlier this month, the value of the rouble plummeted. Add to that the drone attacks on Moscow, which have become a near-daily occurrence.

While Russians don't seem to worry about these events individually, in general, many admit to being concerned about the present, as well as fearful about the future.

The scene in Gorky Park - Moscow's version of London's Hyde Park - is idyllic, with families strolling on the embankment and rollerblading. Just opposite, though, is the imposing grey edifice of the Russian Defence Ministry, on top of which is an anti-aircraft system.

It's a striking contrast: a surface-to-air missile system next to the picture-perfect park.

"The air-defense system doesn't bother me," says Svyatoslav. "Let them put a nuclear missile there if they'll feel better about it. I approve of what is happening, we need to annex [all of Ukraine]."

One woman, Irina, tells me she too is not overly fazed by the presence of missiles in the center of Russia's capital. "My mood is stable, my psyche has already adapted. The peak of my worry is over. But I hope that everything will be resolved in a good way."

Pavel is out walking with his wife Olga. They disagree about the war in Ukraine: Olga supports the Kremlin and believes Ukraine is to blame, whereas her husband says Russia is at fault.

"I worry about the drones falling on Moscow," Pavel admits. "But we decided we wouldn't talk about politics - so that we don't argue and provoke each other."

Many people seem reluctant to dwell on what's happening in cities and towns in Ukraine - less than one day's drive away.

There is little indication of "war fever" among Muscovites, despite what Andrei Afanasiev says. Very few people walk the streets in clothing displaying the letter Z or other symbols of Russia's war. Among most, there is indifference, resignation, or meek acceptance.

This mood is also prevalent among many of those in the corridors of power, according to a source close to the Kremlin, who speaks to me on condition of anonymity.

"Officials in the Presidential Administration are either repressed or depressed. They've worked there for so many years they don't know anything else. They're pessimistic about the future, but they just go with the flow. There's no other choice," the source says.

He tells me people are afraid to speak: "There is no opposition to Putin in the Kremlin."

Fear runs deep in Moscow now. In a small room tucked away at the top of a shopping center, a meeting of opposition activists is taking place. They've laid out a table with biscuits, drinks and snacks.

Leading the meeting is Yulia Galyamina, a local politician who is one of a tiny handful of opposition figures who haven't been imprisoned or forced to flee Russia.

"Every week someone else is arrested," she sighs. "I am always ready for the knock on the door. I feel alone, but I think I do the right thing. My people need to have politicians in their country."

Some of the activists are reluctant to give their real names.

"I'm an anti-war activist who is just lucky to not be in prison yet," says one, also called Yulia.

She left the university after several lecturers expressed support for the Kremlin's military operation. I ask her what message she has for people in the West who think all Russians support the war.

"I want to say there are a lot of anti-war people here and anti-war activists… humanity will win anyway. We are fighting here and we will do our best."

Okay

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