Considering that Russia is entering the fifth year of its war in Ukraine and that its economy has been under intense international sanctions, the country appears surprisingly normal on the surface.
Daily life is much like before the war. Moscow’s restaurants and cafes are bustling with activity, the city’s famous Metro still carries up to 9 million passengers on an average day, and last week the Bolshoi Theater presented a popular ballet based on “The Master and Margarita.”
Lyudmilla Pokamestova, a Moscow district councillor, says she doesn’t detect sudden mood swings among her constituents. “When it started four years ago, yes, people were nervous and worried. But now, the general opinion is that something is happening down there, but our normal life here is calm and we can carry on as usual.”
Why do we write this?
Four years after its initial invasion, Russia has been involved in the war in Ukraine longer than the Soviet Union was in World War II. The country is still committed to the fight, but the cost is starting to go down.
But behind that sense of normality, there are growing signs of tension. Those still conducting public opinion polls say they see growing war fatigue, with large majorities in favor of a negotiated settlement, though only if Russia achieves its main military objectives. Few Russians appear to oppose the war or the government’s justifications for it. But it has already lasted longer than World War II for the Soviet Union, and the investment of time and material it has consumed is greater than most Russians expected (or desired).
Boredom of war?
According to a recent survey by the independent Levada Center in Moscow, most Russians speak with respect of the “participants of the special military operation” – the mostly volunteer soldiers who serve in the Russian army – and support the generous salaries and benefits the state provides them.
But there were also significant fears that returning veterans might be too traumatized to reintegrate into society, including 41% of respondents who feared that sustained exposure to combat could “paralyze the souls” of soldiers, and 19% who thought it could make them “cruel and prone to violence.”
Kirill Poputnikov, architect of the provincial city of Yaroslavl, says people are adapting. “But the general mood I see around me is one of depression,” he adds. “Everyone feels exhausted and nothing is getting easier.”
War casualties are a closely guarded state secret and are never discussed in the media. Western observers, such as the Center for Strategic and International Studies, estimate the number of Russians killed or injured since 2022 to be approximately 1.2 million, with a current casualty rate of 26,000 killed or injured per month. It seems likely that people from some of the country’s poorest communities, who make up the majority of new army recruits, know more about that topic than the average Muscovite.
But even far from cosmopolitan Moscow and St. Petersburg, there are no reports of wartime hardships such as rationing, shortages of basic goods or failures in public services. There are also no signs of widespread anti-war demonstrations.
At the beginning of the war, a significant number of Russians found ways to protest: on social media, through acts of civil disobedience, and even in the streets. The state cracked down, mainly with fines and light prison sentences, and tens of thousands of educated and liberal-minded Russians expressed their disapproval by leaving the country.
Police repression remains a factor, but many analysts say it is not enough to explain the public inaction that occurred as the war progressed, even as months passed and costs mounted.
“In the West, there was hope that the Russians would get tired of the war” and turn against their government, says Frants Klintsevich, a former parliamentarian and head of a group of Afghan war veterans. “But the Russian elites, and even the oligarchs, rallied around our president. They realized there was no other way out. Either we unite or we will be destroyed.”
Stable recruitment
An important factor is that the Kremlin has avoided the forced mobilization of the country’s approximately 20 million reservists, after attempting a hasty and very unsuccessful single admission in late 2022, which led to acute social unrest and a panicked departure from the country of eligible men. Since then, the government has turned to recruiting by offering large signing bonuses (starting around $5,000 and reportedly reaching up to 10 times that), high salaries, and generous benefits, which have attracted sufficient numbers of volunteers, mainly from poorer regions.
Alexander Zemlianichenko/AP/File
“At the beginning of 2023, the government decided to avoid new mobilization and recruit personnel on a voluntary basis,” says Denis Volkov, director of the Levada Center. “You may wonder why anyone would take such a risk for money, but for many families it may be their only chance to buy an apartment.”
That willing recruits shoulder most of the burden “means that most can afford not to feel involved, to see it as something they volunteer to do there.”
The Russian government made a conscious decision to maintain social stability by fighting inflation and maintaining social spending, even at the expense of economic growth, Volkov says. “The priority is stability, maintaining that sense of normality. And until recently, it has been working.”
One consequence of the enormous state spending on the military effort has been a redistribution of income, much of it in favor of traditionally more impoverished regions of the country. War industries have expanded with increasing military contracts, men from poorer regions have changed the fortunes of their families by enlisting, leading to a real estate boom in some areas such as Dagestan and Buryatia. Industries that focus on creating substitutes for previously imported goods have also taken root and become permanent fixtures in the Russian economy.
A defiant but tired Russia
But after growing strongly in the early years of the war, economists say the Russian economy is slowing as stimulus from military spending runs out and the long-term costs of war and sanctions take hold.
“Under the surface, we see many structural changes that will be difficult to reverse, even if peace breaks out tomorrow,” says Oleg Buklemishev, a leading economist. “There has been a lot of redistribution, winners and losers. Some branches of industry have flourished, others languish. The main thing is our deepening dependence on China, which has become our supplier of last resort, our customer of last resort, and the yuan has become our currency of last resort. It will be with us for a long time.”
When President Donald Trump took office in the United States last year and launched his peace initiative, there was a burst of optimism among Russians that the end of the war could be near, Volkov says. “Those hopes have diminished as the process has dragged on, and what we see now is a hardening of attitudes.”
He points to a recent Levada poll that found 70% of Russians favor peace talks. The survey also asked how they would prefer Moscow to react if negotiations failed to reach an agreement: offering more concessions at the negotiating table or attacking Ukraine more harshly. Only 21% favored greater commitment, while 59% advocated tougher military measures.
Volkov adds that President Vladimir Putin has convinced most Russians that the war is not just against Ukraine, but an existential struggle for survival against the “collective West,” which is hell-bent on subjugating Russia. “People see war as a defensive war and therefore necessary,” he says.
Klintsevich, a veteran of the Soviet Union’s war in Afghanistan, says Russia is demonstrating its resilience to the world.
“People suffer. War brings a lot of problems and pain, but there is a strong feeling that we will win, no matter what,” he says. “I often hear this toast at weddings and other festivals: ‘To victory!’”
Editor’s note: This story, originally published on February 23, has been updated to correct the spelling of Ms. Pokamestova’s last name.
