As the war in Ukraine drags into its third year, a critical question grows increasingly urgent: how will Russia reintegrate the ever increasing number of citizens who return from the front lines or who have become economically dependent on the war effort? The scale of the issue is so great that it now shapes official rhetoric, forcing both state officials and the wider public to contemplate possible solutions. Rarely do the authorities and segments of Russian civil society agree—but in this case, there is consensus: the reintegration of war participants will be one of the defining challenges for post-conflict Russia.
The Numbers Behind the Challenge: Tens of Millions of Russians Are Entangled in the War
Estimates vary, but up to 1 million Russian citizens are directly involved in the war, and up to 1 million more have either been seriously wounded or killed. Moreover, Professor Sergei Lipsits estimates that another 20 to 25 million people benefit directly or indirectly from the militarized economy—from defense contractors to administrators and logistics suppliers. These numbers point to a society heavily entangled in the machinery of war, one that will not be easily disentangled should the conflict subside.
Ending the war will inevitably pose the question of how to reabsorb those who return—many of them physically and psychologically scarred, others accustomed to wartime incomes—into a civilian, demilitarized society. This is not the first time Russia has faced such a dilemma. Over the past century, reintegration followed World War II, the war in Afghanistan, and the two Chechen campaigns. Each case unfolded under vastly different political, social, and economic conditions. Yet they shared one thing in common: reintegration was always painful, often poorly managed, and deeply dividing Russian society.
Reintegration 3.0: Lessons from the Past. The Wars in Afghanistan and Chechnya vs. the War in Ukraine
While the return of soldiers from World War II is largely a matter of historical memory for today’s Russians, the experiences of veterans from Afghanistan and Chechnya remain more vivid. These past episodes offer important insights into what may lie ahead.
The Soviet withdrawal from Afghanistan in 1989 came at a time of state collapse. There was neither political will nor economic capacity to offer meaningful reintegration. Many veterans were left to fend for themselves in a disintegrating system, resulting in a visible spike in organized crime, substance abuse, and social alienation. The state’s failure to acknowledge or support their return created a generation of disillusioned, angry men.
The aftermath of the Chechen wars was different in form, if not in outcome. While the Russian state had greater financial means in the 2000s—thanks largely to rising oil revenues—support for returning soldiers was scattershot. Many veterans received compensation, but structural integration into society was limited. Instead, the government opted to “solve” the issue by flooding problem areas with money, especially in the North Caucasus, without addressing deep social grievances. Corruption, alienation, and political distrust flourished.
The current war differs sharply from both Afghanistan and Chechnya. This is not a conflict of clear ideological or territorial defense, but one marked by political ambiguity and strategic vagueness—even in official discourse. Russia in 2022–2025 is not the collapsing Soviet Union or the unstable Russia of the 1990s. It is a state that has managed to sustain a prolonged war largely through money rather than mass mobilization, offering attractive contracts to those willing to fight.
Yet this has resulted in a new kind of war participant—one less driven by patriotic duty and more by economic necessity. For many, the war was a way out of poverty or prison, not a moral crusade. As such, returning soldiers may not be seen as heroes, but as mercenaries—an image already visible in public surveys and media discussions. This gap between self-perception and public reception could trigger a wave of resentment, frustration, and social instability.
The Risk of Repeating History
Both Russian officials and independent analysts now admit that reintegrating war veterans will be a serious issue. On one hand, many of the fighters recruited from prisons are returning with little rehabilitation, prompting widespread public anxiety about rising crime. On the other hand, many contract soldiers expect to return to society as honored defenders of the nation, only to find mistrust, coldness, and a lack of support.
In response, the state is already attempting to manage the situation. Rehabilitation centers are being established for physical and psychological treatment, and career incentives or public sector jobs are promised. However, there is little indication that the government will allow these individuals to form a new political class or assert independent influence. This limits their ability to advocate for themselves.
Moreover, while the government currently has enough fiscal reserves to paper over some of the early frictions, such a strategy is inherently limited. Veterans accustomed to earning significant sums through military service will struggle to find comparable opportunities in civilian life—especially as their skillsets are not easily transferable.
If mismanaged, the return of these individuals could trigger new waves of social destabilization. Past experiences show that under-supported veterans can become sources of unrest, organized violence, and illicit activity, particularly when arms and combat skills are involved. While today’s Russian authorities appear more prepared, their core strategy of using money as a balm may not be enough in the long run.
Large-scale reintegration will likely be gradual rather than sudden. Even if the war winds down, significant forces will remain deployed in occupied territories for years. But the slow pace of return does not diminish the problem—it only delays its full manifestation.
The war has drawn in an unprecedented number of Russians—both directly and through economic entanglement—and sending them back into a peacetime society will require more than budget allocations and patriotic rhetoric.
The consequences of failure could be far-reaching.
If Russia’s economic situation remains stable, the government may be able to ease the transition for some. But if financial or political will falters, the country risks a post-war crisis on a scale unseen since the aftermaths of Afghanistan or Chechnya. A society divided between those who fought, those who benefited, and those who remained on the sidelines will need more than slogans to heal.
At best, Russia will need to undertake a period of deep national reflection—critically reassessing the aims and costs of the war. At worst, the unresolved grievances of disillusioned veterans could spark a second wave of militarization, driven by a desire to re-fight the war—this time, on new terms.
