The Russian government’s use of information warfare—“disinformation”—differs from traditional forms of propaganda. Its aim is not to convince or persuade, but rather to undermine. Instead of agitating audiences into action, it seeks to keep them hooked and distracted, passive and paranoid. Inside Russia, this concept is known as “information-psychological war.” It is a tactic used to disorganize and demoralize an opponent. It is fought in the realms of perception and the minds of men. It continues through both
ofcial peace and wartime.

Russian disinformation is disseminated both overtly—though foreign-language television (notably the multilingual RT) and the self-styled news agency Sputnik International—and covertly, using notionally independent journalists, experts and commentators (many of whom lack legitimacy or status elsewhere) as well as Internet trolls (paid propagandists).1 It operates in many languages and regions including Europe, the Americas and Asia, though this report concentrates on the CEE region.

In his research from St. Petersburg, Chen discovered that Russian internet trolls - paid by the Kremlin to spread false information on the internet - have been behind a number of "highly coordinated campaigns" to deceive the American public.
It's a brand of information warfare, known as "dezinformatsiya," that has been used by the Russians since at least the Cold War. The disinformation campaigns are only one "active measure" tool used by Russian intelligence to "sow discord among," and within, allies perceived hostile to Russia.

"An active measure is a time-honored KGB tactic for waging informational and psychological warfare," Michael Weiss, a senior editor at The Daily Beast and editor-in-chief of The Interpreter - an online magazine that translates and analyzes political, social, and economic events inside the Russian Federation - wrote on Tuesday.
He continued (emphasis added):

"It is designed, as retired KGB General Oleg Kalugin once defined it, 'to drive wedges in the Western community alliances of all sorts, particularly NATO, to sow discord among allies, to weaken the United States in the eyes of the people in Europe, Asia, Africa, Latin America, and thus to prepare ground in case the war really occurs.' The most common subcategory of active measures is dezinformatsiya, or disinformation: feverish, if believable lies cooked up by Moscow Centre and planted in friendly media outlets to make democratic nations look sinister."

It is not surprising, then, that the Kremlin would pay internet trolls to pose as Trump supporters and build him up online. In fact, that would be the easy part.

From his interviews with former trolls employed by Russia, Chen gathered that the point of their jobs "was to weave propaganda seamlessly into what appeared to be the nonpolitical musings of an everyday person."
"Russia's information war might be thought of as the biggest trolling operation in history," Chen wrote. "And its target is nothing less than the utility of the Internet as a democratic space."
'The gift that keeps on giving'

From threats about pulling out of NATO to altering the GOP's policy on Ukraine - which has long called for arming Ukrainian soldiers against pro-Russia rebels - Trump is "the gift that keeps on giving" for Putin, Russian journalist Julia Ioffe noted in a piece for Politico.

"Life is still not great here," Ioffe reported from the small Russian city of Nizhny Tagil in June. "But it's a loyal place and support for Putin is high. In large part, it is because people-especially older people like [Russian citizen Felix] Kolsky-get their news from Kremlin-controlled TV. And Kremlin-controlled TV has been unequivocal about whom they want to win the U.S. presidential election: Donald Trump."

As such, the year-long hack of the DNC - discovered in mid-June and traced back to Russian military intelligence by the cybersecurity firm CrowdStrike - would seem to be the archetypal "active measure" described by Weiss, adapted to modern technology to have maximum impact.

"The DNC hack and dump is what cyberwar looks like," Dave Aitel, a cybersecurity specialist, a former NSA employee, and founder of cybersecurity firm Immunity Inc., wrote for Ars Technica last week.

Aboard his gold-plated jumbo jet, the Republican nominee does not like to rest or be alone with his thoughts, insisting that aides stay up and keep talking to him. He prefers the soothing, whispery voice of his son-in-law.

He requires constant assurance that his candidacy is on track. “Look at that crowd!” he exclaimed a few days ago as he flew across Florida, turning to his young press secretary as a TV tuned to Fox News showed images of what he claimed were thousands of people waiting for him on the ground below.

And he is struggling to suppress his bottomless need for attention. As he stood next to the breakfast buffet at his golf club in Doral, Fla., eyeing a tray of pork sausages, he sought to convey restraint when approached by a reporter for The New York Times.

“I’m on message,” Mr. Trump asserted, with effort. “I’m not playing around. In fact, I’m a little nervous standing here talking to you even for just a minute.”