In democratic societies, books are often considered symbols of intellectual inquiry. Yet, in some political environments, a book can become a liability, even an alibi for repression. This is precisely what appears to have happened in the case of Ukrainian scholar Dr. Oleg Maltsev. Just weeks after announcing the release of Strike with the Deadliest Manner Possible, co-authored with American scholar of global terrorism Dr. Harvey Kushner, Maltsev was arrested by Ukraine’s military counterintelligence agency (SBU DVKR). Human rights observers and international scholars have since called the case fabricated.
At first glance, the book’s subject matter hardly seems incendiary: it is an interdisciplinary study on the evolution of war crimes, private military companies (PMCs), and the hidden architecture of modern armed conflict. But it is precisely this analytical precision that may have struck a nerve.
“When you call things by their proper names”, a participant of the book’s academic roundtable quietly remarked, “you are first ignored, then ridiculed, and then put in jail.”
The book’s title may allude to the logic of violent actors, but its publication revealed a deeper truth: in today’s world, works that address sensitive topics can become dangerous simply by existing.
Private Armies, Public Secrets
Strike with the Deadliest Manner Possible is a work of empirical criminology and forensic sociology that examines the evolution of war crimes—tracing their historical roots and analyzing how they manifest in contemporary conflicts, particularly in the context of the war in Ukraine. As armed conflict becomes more frequent, such an in-depth analytical perspective on the transformation of warfare and the crimes it produces is more relevant than ever.
One of the central arguments of the book is a stark warning: the rise of private military companies paves the way for a new form of colonization—swift, covert, and transnational. This is what gives the study its universal significance, as its insights apply not only to Ukraine but to regions around the world facing similar threats.
At its core, the book is an investigation into transformation. Rather than merely cataloguing atrocities, it analyzes how organized violence has moved from battlefield tactics to something far more diffuse—something embedded in private militaries, corporate logistics, and even humanitarian camouflage. The authors track how actors such as PMC Wagner now function with alarming similarity to historic organized crime structures like the Italian Camorra.
During a roundtable discussion of the book organized by the European Academy of Sciences of Ukraine (EUASU), James O. Finckenauer—an expert on organized crime, author, and Distinguished Professor Emeritus at Rutgers University—pointed out that today’s paramilitary groups operate in a legal and moral grey zone.
“These people have no intention of following the rules of war”, Finckenauer says. “They can do whatever they want and do not play by the established rules. This, he argues, connects them to both terrorist networks and criminal syndicates.”
The book’s ambition lies in its use of what the authors call a “multimodal method”—a fusion of forensic analysis, historical documents, personal interviews, and observational data. As Professor Jerome Krase, President of EUASU, noted in his preface to the book, it is this approach that grants the study its explanatory power.
“As this unjust war continues, world leaders and the general public would be well advised to adopt the difficult perspective presented herein that defies the simplistic logics in current use by analysts and planners that not only lead to war but make them so much more difficult to “justly” conclude.”
Dr. Oleg Maltsev puts it starkly: “If something exists, it means someone needs it.” What exists, according to the book, is a new military-criminal-industrial ecosystem that adapts faster than legislation, hides behind sovereign flags, and turns war into a logistics operation.
What Happens When Research Names the Unnameable
To grasp the sociopolitical meaning of the arrest and the criminalization of its author, we must turn to what social theorists have long taught us about the relationship between knowledge and power.
The late sociologist Stanley Cohen coined the concept of moral panic to describe how societies manufacture fear by exaggerating threats and isolating “folk devils”—figures who are depicted as dangers to social order. Although originally applied to youth cultures and subversive movements, moral panic remains a useful tool for understanding how scholars like Dr. Maltsev are turned into suspects.
Michel Foucault’s insight that power and knowledge are co-constructed is also instructive here. In his lectures on governmentality, Foucault argues that the state does not only wield force; it defines what counts as “true,” “legitimate,” and “scientific.”
Pierre Bourdieu called this form of retaliation symbolic violence: the imposition of meanings, categories, and exclusions that shape how reality is perceived. The state does not need to overtly censor a book; it only needs to delegitimize the author.
There is also an anthropological dimension. As Dr. Lucien Oulahbib notes, contemporary societies face what might be called “soft terrorism”—a fusion of state and corporate influence that governs not through direct coercion, but through normalization and media-controlled perception. Student protests, security narratives, and public spectacles become tools of consensus. In this environment, knowledge that deconstructs those mechanisms is seen not as academic inquiry, but as a breach.
Thus, the response to Strike with the Deadliest Manner Possible is not accidental. It reflects a broader anxiety about who gets to define reality in times of war, and who is punished when they define it differently.
Academic Freedom Under Siege: A Global Phenomenon
The arrest of a scholar for publishing a criminological study may seem extraordinary. But in today’s world, it is increasingly less so. The line between political dissidence and academic research is becoming dangerously blurred across many regions, and the case of Dr. Oleg Maltsev is part of a larger global erosion of academic freedom.
In Turkey, following the failed coup attempt in 2016, over 6,000 academics were dismissed, and hundreds imprisoned for allegedly supporting terrorism—many simply for signing a petition. In India, scholars researching caste violence or environmental degradation have faced sedition charges. In the United States, although the mechanisms differ, professors who challenge dominant political or economic interests have been subjected to smear campaigns, surveillance, and institutional censure. Even within the European Union, researchers working on migration, nationalism, or corporate lobbying have reported growing constraints on what is permissible to study—and whom it is safe to criticize.
This is not anecdotal. According to the 2024 Academic Freedom Index, compiled by scholars from Friedrich-Alexander University and the V-Dem Institute, global academic freedom has declined in more than half of the world’s countries over the past ten years. The common thread is clear: independent scholars are increasingly vulnerable.
What sets the Maltsev case apart is that it highlights how researchers in countries with weaker institutional protections are far more likely to face punishment—even when their work adheres to international scholarly standards. The result is a geography of fear, where who you are and where you write determines the risks you take.
In this light, Dr. Maltsev’s arrest becomes more than a national incident. It is a warning sign—one that should concern anyone who believes that scholarship must remain independent from political interference. It reminds us that academic freedom is not self-sustaining; it must be defended, especially when it is inconvenient.
