SOCIETY
Russian Emigrants:
Settling Down But Not Integrating
Settling Down But Not Integrating
November 28, 2024
- Liubov BorusyakSociologist
Drawing on her series of interviews with middle-class Russian emigrants, sociologist Liubov Borusyak explores their adaptation to life abroad, the challenges they face and their key concerns.
Since early April 2022, I have been conducting a longitudinal study about how recent Russian emigrants are doing in their new homes (see Russia.Post about the previous stages of the study here, here, and here). Every six months I talk to the same people. My panel was significantly bolstered in the autumn of 2022, after the announcement of partial mobilization in Russia, but otherwise additions have been few. Six stages of the study have been carried out, with 505 interviews taken. The latest round took place in October 2024. I have spoken with most respondents five or six times and with the rest at least three times.
My research is not representative; it is a qualitative study that is conducted through online interviews. I study highly educated emigrants from Russia’s biggest cities. My database is made up almost exclusively of people with higher education and students. Almost all my respondents, before leaving Russia, lived in Moscow or St Petersburg, belonged to the middle class and were very successful professionally and socially. Most of them had no intention of emigrating before the start of the so-called “special military operation” in Ukraine, at least not for a while. Their departure was spontaneous, except for those who relocated abroad with their companies; there were quite a few of the latter in the spring of 2022, after which time the flow of relokanty practically ceased.
Initially, I had a hypothesis that after two or three years of emigration, people’s lives would stabilize, with most adapting to their new homes and many starting to integrate into their new countries. It was hard to predict how successful this process would be – whether a significant portion of my respondents would be able to maintain or improve their previous social status. The most recent stage of the study was devoted to these questions.
My research is not representative; it is a qualitative study that is conducted through online interviews. I study highly educated emigrants from Russia’s biggest cities. My database is made up almost exclusively of people with higher education and students. Almost all my respondents, before leaving Russia, lived in Moscow or St Petersburg, belonged to the middle class and were very successful professionally and socially. Most of them had no intention of emigrating before the start of the so-called “special military operation” in Ukraine, at least not for a while. Their departure was spontaneous, except for those who relocated abroad with their companies; there were quite a few of the latter in the spring of 2022, after which time the flow of relokanty practically ceased.
Initially, I had a hypothesis that after two or three years of emigration, people’s lives would stabilize, with most adapting to their new homes and many starting to integrate into their new countries. It was hard to predict how successful this process would be – whether a significant portion of my respondents would be able to maintain or improve their previous social status. The most recent stage of the study was devoted to these questions.
IIstanbul, Turkey. In 2022, more than 150,000 Russians received a Turkish residence permit. Recently, many were forced to move because of a toughened immigration policy. Source: Wiki Commons
Have emigrants stopped country-hopping?
At first, almost all my respondents ended up in countries other than those they would have hypothetically wanted to live in. “Hypothetically,” since most of them had no intention of moving anywhere at all. All my respondents felt and feel a sense of belonging to European or Western culture and therefore would like to live in European countries or the US. Most of them had gone abroad many times, and many speak a foreign language, mostly English.
Nevertheless, the first stage of the study found them mainly in countries where Russians can enter without a visa, like Armenia, Georgia and Turkey. The autumn 2022 emigrants, who were running away from partial mobilization, ended up in Kazakhstan and other Central Asian countries, as well as Serbia and Montenegro – other “visa-free” countries for Russians.
Some of those who had left Russia in a hurry decided not to move again, but they were the exception.
At first, almost all my respondents ended up in countries other than those they would have hypothetically wanted to live in. “Hypothetically,” since most of them had no intention of moving anywhere at all. All my respondents felt and feel a sense of belonging to European or Western culture and therefore would like to live in European countries or the US. Most of them had gone abroad many times, and many speak a foreign language, mostly English.
Nevertheless, the first stage of the study found them mainly in countries where Russians can enter without a visa, like Armenia, Georgia and Turkey. The autumn 2022 emigrants, who were running away from partial mobilization, ended up in Kazakhstan and other Central Asian countries, as well as Serbia and Montenegro – other “visa-free” countries for Russians.
Some of those who had left Russia in a hurry decided not to move again, but they were the exception.
“Generally, a time of mass migration began: each stage of the study found a significant portion of my respondents in a new country.”
Only after two to two and a half years of their living outside of Russia did this process slow down. Now, two thirds of my respondents live in European countries. Those who ended up in Western Europe and the US would like to stay there for a long time. Yet emigrants do not expect to live the rest of their lives in one place. The trauma of suddenly leaving Russia prevents them from doing so.
Hotel Moskva, Belgrade. As of January 2024, over 300,000 Russians were estimated to have relocated to Serbia. Photo by Anna Zelinskaya, published with her permission.
It is those living in Western Europe who express the desire to settle down there. In contrast, the Baltic countries, Serbia and Montenegro are still seen as stepping stones. Some respondents call these countries “not-quite-Europe” (nedoEvropa) or “not real Europe” and would like to move to “real” Europe.
Some of those for whom this “real” Europe is not yet attainable are trying to find an opportunity to move and work there. Others have made their peace with “fake” Europe and are not inclined to change anything. Overall, as mentioned above, the dynamics of migration from place to place have slowed down significantly, meaning that a significant portion of the project participants have adapted or are still adapting to their new life, with some on the threshold of integration. At this point, however, the latter are few.
How has emigrants’ professional and social status changed?
Note that people who left Russia without a financial cushion and whose professional skills turned out to be unwanted return to Russia quite quickly. There are few such cases among my respondents, but this happened to many of their acquaintances.
In the words of one respondent: “emigration is always downshifting.” This may be too strong a statement, but there is some truth to it. Among the participants of my project there are many academics, who were professors at leading Russian universities. So far, only one of them has received a permanent position at a foreign university; the rest have temporary positions and do not expect that to change in the future. Meanwhile, literally a few weeks after being approved for that permanent position, the academic was denied a research grant, because one of the reviewers, without any justification, suspected him of “working for the Kremlin.” There are myriad examples of people moving from academia to positions that are related to their area of expertise but require significantly lower qualifications. This, unfortunately, applies not only to academics.
The best situation for relokanty is when they can do the same thing in their new country as they did in Russia and be paid quite well for that. This is mostly an IT story. But there are also those who worked for international companies in Russia and retained their job or found such a job while in emigration, as well as those who received a global talent visa in the UK or a digital nomad visa in Portugal, Spain, etc. Finally, young Russians who enter universities or start PhD programs in the US and European countries have good career prospects.
Russian emigrants: ‘Capricious’ or ‘demanding’?
The peculiarity of the current wave of emigration by highly educated Russians, in contrast to that in the 1990s, when people were fleeing a desperate economic situation, is that today’s emigrants are accustomed to a certain status, as well as standard and quality of living, and are confident in their professional skills – they are not ready to lose all this. Several of my respondents called this wave “capricious,” but others disagree, preferring the term “demanding.” The question arises: do they have the right to be “demanding,” or should they be grateful for having been accepted by other countries?
This issue, obviously important for my respondents, came up during interviews only in the autumn of 2024, when people had already lived outside of Russia for a relatively long period. In the first months after leaving, my respondents felt immense gratitude to the government of every country where they landed, feeling like uninvited guests who had been given shelter in a difficult situation. This was particularly the case with those who found themselves in Central Asian countries, migrants from which are often treated by Russians with hostility when they come to Russia to work.
Some of those for whom this “real” Europe is not yet attainable are trying to find an opportunity to move and work there. Others have made their peace with “fake” Europe and are not inclined to change anything. Overall, as mentioned above, the dynamics of migration from place to place have slowed down significantly, meaning that a significant portion of the project participants have adapted or are still adapting to their new life, with some on the threshold of integration. At this point, however, the latter are few.
How has emigrants’ professional and social status changed?
Note that people who left Russia without a financial cushion and whose professional skills turned out to be unwanted return to Russia quite quickly. There are few such cases among my respondents, but this happened to many of their acquaintances.
In the words of one respondent: “emigration is always downshifting.” This may be too strong a statement, but there is some truth to it. Among the participants of my project there are many academics, who were professors at leading Russian universities. So far, only one of them has received a permanent position at a foreign university; the rest have temporary positions and do not expect that to change in the future. Meanwhile, literally a few weeks after being approved for that permanent position, the academic was denied a research grant, because one of the reviewers, without any justification, suspected him of “working for the Kremlin.” There are myriad examples of people moving from academia to positions that are related to their area of expertise but require significantly lower qualifications. This, unfortunately, applies not only to academics.
The best situation for relokanty is when they can do the same thing in their new country as they did in Russia and be paid quite well for that. This is mostly an IT story. But there are also those who worked for international companies in Russia and retained their job or found such a job while in emigration, as well as those who received a global talent visa in the UK or a digital nomad visa in Portugal, Spain, etc. Finally, young Russians who enter universities or start PhD programs in the US and European countries have good career prospects.
Russian emigrants: ‘Capricious’ or ‘demanding’?
The peculiarity of the current wave of emigration by highly educated Russians, in contrast to that in the 1990s, when people were fleeing a desperate economic situation, is that today’s emigrants are accustomed to a certain status, as well as standard and quality of living, and are confident in their professional skills – they are not ready to lose all this. Several of my respondents called this wave “capricious,” but others disagree, preferring the term “demanding.” The question arises: do they have the right to be “demanding,” or should they be grateful for having been accepted by other countries?
This issue, obviously important for my respondents, came up during interviews only in the autumn of 2024, when people had already lived outside of Russia for a relatively long period. In the first months after leaving, my respondents felt immense gratitude to the government of every country where they landed, feeling like uninvited guests who had been given shelter in a difficult situation. This was particularly the case with those who found themselves in Central Asian countries, migrants from which are often treated by Russians with hostility when they come to Russia to work.
“Suddenly the situation was reversed, yet the local population greeted them quite warmly.”
People gradually adapted to their new life: they figured out where to work and live, where to send their children to school; they resolved various bureaucratic problems; and some began learning the language of their new country. As they adapted, new emigrants began to see themselves not as uninvited guests but as permanent or almost permanent residents, albeit not citizens.
Some say “capricious” because emigrants sometimes express dissatisfaction with the level of service and bureaucratic red tape. In response they often hear that they have no right to criticize how things are in a country where they were not invited. This is what emigrants from previous waves say – it less often comes from locals or Ukrainian refugees.
The “capricious” new emigrants, of course, do not like this. Many of them have friends who left Russia for the West to work or pursue a PhD before 2022. Those Russians did not run away from the country; they left because they were invited to a specific place, so initially they did not feel any big distance from locals, who sat next to them in the office.
New emigrants are no less skilled than those who left earlier. However, their political positions – in particular their opposition to what is going on back home – is often even more pronounced. New emigrants consider it unfair that they alone are supposedly held responsible for the actions of the Russian government, even though they do not associate themselves with it.
Some say “capricious” because emigrants sometimes express dissatisfaction with the level of service and bureaucratic red tape. In response they often hear that they have no right to criticize how things are in a country where they were not invited. This is what emigrants from previous waves say – it less often comes from locals or Ukrainian refugees.
The “capricious” new emigrants, of course, do not like this. Many of them have friends who left Russia for the West to work or pursue a PhD before 2022. Those Russians did not run away from the country; they left because they were invited to a specific place, so initially they did not feel any big distance from locals, who sat next to them in the office.
New emigrants are no less skilled than those who left earlier. However, their political positions – in particular their opposition to what is going on back home – is often even more pronounced. New emigrants consider it unfair that they alone are supposedly held responsible for the actions of the Russian government, even though they do not associate themselves with it.
“The choice of keeping silent or speaking up is particularly acute in host countries where criticism of local customs can cause serious friction. This concerns mainly the Baltic countries and Poland.”
A friendly tour of a mountain in Tbilisi, which a group of Russian emigres cleared of rubbish, and transformed into a pop-up community space. Published with the photographer's permission.
As some respondents say bitterly, “I left Russia because I could not say what I thought, but I found myself in the same situation. It is very painful.”
Overall, adaptation has been much more successful when people have ended up where they wanted to be and will be at least for the next few years, where, as they say, they are no longer “sitting on their suitcases.” The most important factor in this regard is obtaining legal status, i.e., at least a residence permit. With each subsequent stage of my study, there are more and more such respondents.
Slow passage from the emigrant bubble toward integration
Almost everyone has managed to adapt after two or two and a half years of living in one country, but the situation with integration is much more complicated.
At the time of my latest study in October 2024, not all emigrants, even those who left immediately after the war began, had been in their current host country for a long time – long enough for integration. Integration requires at least a solid knowledge of the local language. Many are learning – Hebrew, Serbian, Portuguese – but few can boast that they have already mastered it.
In countries where Russian is widely spoken and emigrants can get by with their native language (for example, Armenia and Kazakhstan), my respondents say that they regret spending time and effort to learn the language, do not see the need for it and consider it sufficient to memorize a few phrases to show respect toward locals.
The second thing without which integration is impossible is a “local” place of work, where colleagues are locals, not fellow emigrants. Communication with colleagues helps with adaptation to the local culture, including the culture of communication. So far, there are not many respondents who have managed to find such a job, but their number is gradually increasing.
Oftentimes this “localization” happens through children: meeting on playgrounds and with parents of children’s classmates from school or kindergarten. One respondent proudly told me how her daughter was invited to the birthday party of a German girl with whom she goes to kindergarten.
For many of my respondents, however, their social circle remains Russian-speaking, and they are friends almost exclusively with other emigrants. This is not only due to a desire to be in a cozy Russian bubble; in fact, some respondents complained that locals do not go further than small talk.
Overall, adaptation has been much more successful when people have ended up where they wanted to be and will be at least for the next few years, where, as they say, they are no longer “sitting on their suitcases.” The most important factor in this regard is obtaining legal status, i.e., at least a residence permit. With each subsequent stage of my study, there are more and more such respondents.
Slow passage from the emigrant bubble toward integration
Almost everyone has managed to adapt after two or two and a half years of living in one country, but the situation with integration is much more complicated.
At the time of my latest study in October 2024, not all emigrants, even those who left immediately after the war began, had been in their current host country for a long time – long enough for integration. Integration requires at least a solid knowledge of the local language. Many are learning – Hebrew, Serbian, Portuguese – but few can boast that they have already mastered it.
In countries where Russian is widely spoken and emigrants can get by with their native language (for example, Armenia and Kazakhstan), my respondents say that they regret spending time and effort to learn the language, do not see the need for it and consider it sufficient to memorize a few phrases to show respect toward locals.
The second thing without which integration is impossible is a “local” place of work, where colleagues are locals, not fellow emigrants. Communication with colleagues helps with adaptation to the local culture, including the culture of communication. So far, there are not many respondents who have managed to find such a job, but their number is gradually increasing.
Oftentimes this “localization” happens through children: meeting on playgrounds and with parents of children’s classmates from school or kindergarten. One respondent proudly told me how her daughter was invited to the birthday party of a German girl with whom she goes to kindergarten.
For many of my respondents, however, their social circle remains Russian-speaking, and they are friends almost exclusively with other emigrants. This is not only due to a desire to be in a cozy Russian bubble; in fact, some respondents complained that locals do not go further than small talk.
“None of my respondents have made friends outside their Russian-speaking social circle yet.”
Perhaps it is a matter of time, but it is hard to say when this will change.
There are respondents who say that they already feel at home in their new country, others admit that they still have not mentally torn themselves away from their Moscow or St Petersburg homes, and still others feel that both cities (previous and current) are their home. Yet there are also those – and, unfortunately, they are not so few – who suffer from the loss of a sense of home.
As conversations with my respondents show, emigration has often meant downshifting (though this is far from always being the case), and integration into host countries is being hampered not only by problems with work.
Emigration is a difficult process, but gradually, often slowly and painfully, people begin to integrate into the new society. I am unsure whether all my respondents will succeed, but this process is clearly underway. With each subsequent stage of my study, there are fewer respondents who want to go back to Russia, even if the prevailing sociopolitical climate changes.
There are respondents who say that they already feel at home in their new country, others admit that they still have not mentally torn themselves away from their Moscow or St Petersburg homes, and still others feel that both cities (previous and current) are their home. Yet there are also those – and, unfortunately, they are not so few – who suffer from the loss of a sense of home.
As conversations with my respondents show, emigration has often meant downshifting (though this is far from always being the case), and integration into host countries is being hampered not only by problems with work.
Emigration is a difficult process, but gradually, often slowly and painfully, people begin to integrate into the new society. I am unsure whether all my respondents will succeed, but this process is clearly underway. With each subsequent stage of my study, there are fewer respondents who want to go back to Russia, even if the prevailing sociopolitical climate changes.
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