Peter Pomerantsev is a Ukrainian-born British journalist and a senior fellow at the Agora Institute at Johns Hopkins University.

Propaganda plays a vital role in Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. But will those pushing these campaigns face accountability? Or, will they walk away, claiming “free speech” as their defense?

When, exactly, are words war crimes?

The challenge for anyone trying to bring propagandists to trial has always been connecting vile words to horrific acts.

Consider the Nuremberg trials: One of the propagandists on trial, Julius Streicher — editor of the vitriolic antisemitic Der Sturmer, a leading Hitler ally and senior party member from the earliest days — was found guilty of inciting extermination of the Jews.

But Hans Fritzsche, the smooth-talking editor-in-chief of the Reich’s radio, was found not guilty. He claimed he was merely following instructions with his screeds and had no idea about the Holocaust. After the tribunal, new evidence emerged that Fritzsche actively helped bring about the murder of Jews in Poland — but by then it was too late.

Since Nuremberg, the world has seen mixed results when it comes to holding propagandists accountable. After the Rwandan genocide, media bosses who encouraged militias and called for the extermination of Tutsis were found guilty of incitement to commit genocide. By contrast, Serbian ultranationalist Vojislav Šešelj was found not guilty, as judges at The Hague couldn’t ascertain whether his dehumanizing speeches about Bosnians were intended to cause specific criminal acts during the Balkan wars.

Now, the chase is on to hold Russian propagandists accountable. Question is, can their disinformation campaigns possibly offer a new avenue for establishing responsibility?

When going after propagandists, some of the ongoing efforts focus on the horrific language used by Russia’s leading hate-mongers, such as media personalities referring to Ukrainians as “subhuman” and calling to “deworm” them. To that end, a submission to the International Criminal Court (ICC) by a coalition of lawyers, including Nobel Peace Prize Winner Oleksandra Matvichuk, argues: “Every day Ukrainians die under Russian bombs; Ukrainian civilians in the occupation are detained and tortured. These grave violations of human rights would not be possible without the dehumanizing campaign of Russian propagandists, who are just as guilty as those who pull their triggers killing Ukrainian civilians.”

But there is another way Russian propagandists enable violence: Creating disinformation about who is responsible for a war crime before it is committed. Yes, you read that right. The language in such cases isn’t necessarily vile, as the aim isn’t to dehumanize victims. It is to preemptively blame someone else — often the victims themselves — for the atrocities Russian forces are about commit.

A joint report from the Reckoning Project and the humanitarian law firm Global Rights Compliance lays out the consistent use of these so-called information alibis — a pattern first established in Syria, when Russian diplomats and state media would accuse the Syrian opposition and first responders of using chemical weapons against civilians, thus creating an alibi for the Syrian regime’s own subsequent use of poison gas.

According to the report, this tactic has increased since the full-scale invasion of Ukraine. In the run-up to Russia’s bombardment of a maternity ward in Mariupol in 2022, for example, the Telegram channels and news services of the Russian security services and Russian Ambassador to the U.N. Vasily Nebenzya accused Ukrainian forces of using the city’s maternity wards as human shields. But a subsequent U.N. investigation, as well as reports from the Associated Press and CNN, found no evidence of the claims.

Then, again in Mariupol in 2022, a correspondent for Russia’s Komsomolskaya Pravda newspaper claimed a theater where over a thousand civilians had taken shelter was about to be shelled by Ukrainian forces as a “provocation.” A few days later, the Russian air force hit the theater with two 500-kilogram bombs.

So far, there has been no evidence of any such “provocation,” and both Amnesty International and the U.N. High Commissioner for Human Rights confirmed the theater was destroyed with an air strike. The precise number of fatalities is unknown, though the AP estimates the number at 600.

In essence, however absurd an “information alibi” may seem, it serves to give Russia a veneer of deniability for a planned atrocity. Push the message enough, and it can muddy the waters about who’s responsible. And there are many countries that are all too keen to reach for an excuse, however dubious, to forgive Russia’s actions if it serves their pro-Russia policies. Recently, we’ve even seen claims in leading pro-government Hungarian media that the massacre of Ukrainian civilians at Bucha was staged.

Sometimes alibis can be created months in advance, such as with Russian claims that Ukraine blew up the Kakhovka dam, or that Ukrainian forces used U.S. arms to murder prisoners of war captured by Russia, who were about to incriminate Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy in heinous war crimes.

But sometimes things can go awry: On April 8, 2022, for example, a Russian missile hit the Kramatorsk rail station, killing 63 civilians; and at 10:25 a.m., Russia’s state news agency RIA Novosti published a post blaming a Ukrainian Tochka-U missile. However, the first eyewitness reports from the scene only started to emerge at about 10:30 a.m. In their eagerness to blame Ukraine, the agency was premature. Furthermore, it was published via TweetDeck, which can be used to schedule posts in advance.

This mistake shows how digital technology can both enhance and reveal the coordinated nature of “information alibis.” A network of telegram channels, such as the somewhat ironically entitled “War on Fakes,” lie at the heart of Russia’s “information alibis.” At first glance, they can seem independent, but as an indictment by the U.S. Justice Department showed, they closely coordinate with the Kremlin.

When propagandists participate in coordinated action with military forces and state authorities to preemptively cover up a crime, their role goes beyond typical disinformation. “By seeding doubt that derails investigations, covers up crime, or obstructs criminal investigations, propagandists can materially contribute to a common purpose,” explained Global Rights Compliance’s Scott Martin. Think of them like getaway drivers, delivering a bank robber or assassin to a crime scene, then driving them away.

If one could establish responsibility for “information alibis” in this way, it would do more than just open the opportunity for in-person trials. It would also create opportunities for other forms of accountability, such as with sanctions. And it would put more pressure on tech platforms too — it’s one thing to have disinformation on a site, it’s quite another to enable the coordination of atrocities.

Moreover, recognizing “information alibis” would help democracies delineate more clearly between freedom of speech and crime — especially at a time when there’s so much controversy over what speech should be regulated. Untrue, vile and derogatory political speech isn’t usually illegal. But the milder speech involved in “information alibis” is directly contributing to actual crimes.

The most dangerous words aren’t necessarily the most violent ones. Rather, it’s often calm, seemingly measured, coordinated words that are part of the preparation for murder — these are what propagandists should be held accountable for.