SOCIETY
Dispelling Myths About Russian Emigration
January 16, 2025
- Margarita ZavadskayaSociologist
As part of the projects OutRush and Russia’s Antiwar Commons, sociologist Margarita Zavadskaya and colleagues have studied how the moods of new Russian emigrants, along with their political views and perceptions of their host countries, have changed over the course of the war. In this article, she recaps where emigrants are mentally as 2025 starts –for many, it is the fourth year away from home.
The original text in Russian was published in Republic and is being republished here with small changes and its permission.
When Russians have been in emigration for more than two years, the likelihood of their return tends to zero. This finding is based on the experience of various mass emigrations in the history of Russia, including the most recent one. Yet it matters when exactly they left – spring 2022, autumn 2022 or later.
Different waves, same attitudes
We have managed to dispel the myth that the “mobilization wave” (those who left after the announcement of mobilization in autumn 2022) is different from the initial wave. There was a misconception that the March 2022 wave consisted of ideas-driven people with some aura of civic consciousness, whereas the September wave supposedly was those who were afraid of mobilization or, more generally, for their lives.
The results of the OutRush 2022 and 2023 surveys did not show this. We looked at people’s political engagement: how actively they participate in volunteer efforts, activism and protests and donate to antiwar initiatives. It turned out that both waves are about the same in these regards.
When studying waves of the latest emigration, we identify the triggers for why people left – the beginning of the war, mobilization or other events – yet in all these cases we see a deep-seated cause: fundamental disagreement with the policies of the Russian state.
When Russians have been in emigration for more than two years, the likelihood of their return tends to zero. This finding is based on the experience of various mass emigrations in the history of Russia, including the most recent one. Yet it matters when exactly they left – spring 2022, autumn 2022 or later.
Different waves, same attitudes
We have managed to dispel the myth that the “mobilization wave” (those who left after the announcement of mobilization in autumn 2022) is different from the initial wave. There was a misconception that the March 2022 wave consisted of ideas-driven people with some aura of civic consciousness, whereas the September wave supposedly was those who were afraid of mobilization or, more generally, for their lives.
The results of the OutRush 2022 and 2023 surveys did not show this. We looked at people’s political engagement: how actively they participate in volunteer efforts, activism and protests and donate to antiwar initiatives. It turned out that both waves are about the same in these regards.
When studying waves of the latest emigration, we identify the triggers for why people left – the beginning of the war, mobilization or other events – yet in all these cases we see a deep-seated cause: fundamental disagreement with the policies of the Russian state.
“Among emigrants, antiwar sentiment and anti-Putin sentiment today are practically the same thing.”
And though mobilization, of course, pushed some to leave, it was the trigger mostly for those who, in principle, were ready to leave anyway. Meanwhile, it seems that emigrants have not begun to miss their homeland since leaving.
More precisely: they miss Russia, i.e., their home, their loved ones and important places, but they do not miss the state and its attributes. Regardless of their feelings, the overwhelming majority of our respondents are not ready to return to Russia.
At the same time, only a small proportion of the interviewees have completely severed ties with their homeland: they do not contact their loved ones, they believe that the place where they lived most of their lives is cursed and they have nothing more to do there.
The majority of emigrants view their compatriots who stayed in Russia with trust, love and warmth, but they are still unwilling to return – and this is a leitmotif that runs through almost all interviews.
More precisely: they miss Russia, i.e., their home, their loved ones and important places, but they do not miss the state and its attributes. Regardless of their feelings, the overwhelming majority of our respondents are not ready to return to Russia.
At the same time, only a small proportion of the interviewees have completely severed ties with their homeland: they do not contact their loved ones, they believe that the place where they lived most of their lives is cursed and they have nothing more to do there.
The majority of emigrants view their compatriots who stayed in Russia with trust, love and warmth, but they are still unwilling to return – and this is a leitmotif that runs through almost all interviews.
“Our respondents say that for them to return, the regime needs to fall and the war needs to end.”
The pedestrian Knez Mihailova Street, Belgrade. Photo by Anna Zelinskaya, published with the permission of the author.
How exactly that happens does not matter; interviewees were not specific.
Interestingly, such a precondition for going back as security is not a priority, with few emigrants mentioning it.
Emigrants regaining standard of living
The most important conclusion of the fourth iteration of surveys, which we conducted in the second half of 2024, is that Russian emigrants are adapting to their new environments. About two thirds who worked in Russian companies when they fled Russia have now left these companies.
The financial situation of emigrants is stabilizing. We do not directly ask about money – “how much do you make?” – but we do inquire using the so-called Levada Center model, asking: what can you afford? Food? Clothes? Essential goods? Household appliances? A car? Real estate? With this subjective scale we can roughly compare how economically comfortable or uncomfortable respondents are.
The worst results in this regard were demonstrated by respondents from later waves of emigration.
The general pattern: incomes initially dropped, but now emigrants perceive them to have at least improved or completely recovered. This is another reason why people do not want to go back.
Atoning for their country’s sins
According to our surveys and interviews, few emigrants have encountered overt discrimination in their host countries. (Note that our methods do not allow us to study this objectively; our conclusions are based on the reported feelings of emigrants.)
Many respondents in Tbilisi noted anti-Russian graffiti on walls, like “Russians go home” or “Russians not welcome.” They understand that these messages are addressed to them as well, but they react without anger, trying to find a comfortable interpretation for themselves.
The same goes for everyday issues. We asked: have you faced special treatment based on your nationality? They said: no. Yet then they would start telling stories about how people refused to speak Russian with them, how they have to rent apartments at inflated prices and so on.
Interestingly, such a precondition for going back as security is not a priority, with few emigrants mentioning it.
Emigrants regaining standard of living
The most important conclusion of the fourth iteration of surveys, which we conducted in the second half of 2024, is that Russian emigrants are adapting to their new environments. About two thirds who worked in Russian companies when they fled Russia have now left these companies.
The financial situation of emigrants is stabilizing. We do not directly ask about money – “how much do you make?” – but we do inquire using the so-called Levada Center model, asking: what can you afford? Food? Clothes? Essential goods? Household appliances? A car? Real estate? With this subjective scale we can roughly compare how economically comfortable or uncomfortable respondents are.
The worst results in this regard were demonstrated by respondents from later waves of emigration.
The general pattern: incomes initially dropped, but now emigrants perceive them to have at least improved or completely recovered. This is another reason why people do not want to go back.
Atoning for their country’s sins
According to our surveys and interviews, few emigrants have encountered overt discrimination in their host countries. (Note that our methods do not allow us to study this objectively; our conclusions are based on the reported feelings of emigrants.)
Many respondents in Tbilisi noted anti-Russian graffiti on walls, like “Russians go home” or “Russians not welcome.” They understand that these messages are addressed to them as well, but they react without anger, trying to find a comfortable interpretation for themselves.
The same goes for everyday issues. We asked: have you faced special treatment based on your nationality? They said: no. Yet then they would start telling stories about how people refused to speak Russian with them, how they have to rent apartments at inflated prices and so on.
“In fact, our respondents described episodes of discrimination, but they themselves did not interpret them that way.”
Moreover, many of them put themselves in the place of locals and came to the conclusion that they were behaving rationally and appropriately to the situation. “Well, what did we expect,” they asked rhetorically. “We are a nation of aggressors, imperialists.”
This reflects the decolonial discourse that is in vogue. Many of our respondents rather agree with it, but they digest it in different ways. A significant proportion of them have accepted having to atone for their country’s sins and “collective responsibility,” with others simply choosing the path of least resistance by not challenging such rhetoric: “we are tired by now.”
When we put “do you agree with the idea of collective responsibility for the war?” in the questionnaire, almost everyone responded in the affirmative. However, when we moved this question out of the questionnaire and into the interviews, there was less consensus. Emigrants wanted to know what we meant and how exactly collective responsibility should be expressed.
Bureaucratic obstacles and ideological differences
Naturally, the issue of discrimination looks very different depending on what country our respondents live or lived in. For example: it is relevant in Georgia but to a much lesser extent in Armenia.
Attitudes toward Turkey as a host country (or rather, toward the Turkish government) were initially extremely positive before deteriorating precipitously. The driver: a one-eighty in visa policy and refusals to extend residence permits.
For example, there was an episode with a married couple, the wife being a Ukrainian citizen and the husband a Russian citizen, where she was given documents to stay but he was not. They had to leave Turkey. There are many stories of having applications rejected, and in this regard we see collective resentment.
The reaction of emigrants to formal, bureaucratic and visa restrictions is much sharper than their feelings about the general atmosphere and everyday life in their host countries.
This reflects the decolonial discourse that is in vogue. Many of our respondents rather agree with it, but they digest it in different ways. A significant proportion of them have accepted having to atone for their country’s sins and “collective responsibility,” with others simply choosing the path of least resistance by not challenging such rhetoric: “we are tired by now.”
When we put “do you agree with the idea of collective responsibility for the war?” in the questionnaire, almost everyone responded in the affirmative. However, when we moved this question out of the questionnaire and into the interviews, there was less consensus. Emigrants wanted to know what we meant and how exactly collective responsibility should be expressed.
Bureaucratic obstacles and ideological differences
Naturally, the issue of discrimination looks very different depending on what country our respondents live or lived in. For example: it is relevant in Georgia but to a much lesser extent in Armenia.
Attitudes toward Turkey as a host country (or rather, toward the Turkish government) were initially extremely positive before deteriorating precipitously. The driver: a one-eighty in visa policy and refusals to extend residence permits.
For example, there was an episode with a married couple, the wife being a Ukrainian citizen and the husband a Russian citizen, where she was given documents to stay but he was not. They had to leave Turkey. There are many stories of having applications rejected, and in this regard we see collective resentment.
The reaction of emigrants to formal, bureaucratic and visa restrictions is much sharper than their feelings about the general atmosphere and everyday life in their host countries.
“Residence permits are more important than graffiti on the street; bank accounts are more important than government language policy.”
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.
An interesting situation has emerged in Serbia. Many of our respondents reacted painfully to pro-Putin graffiti, Wagner ads, sympathy for Putin and so on. This “triggered” migrants from Russia more than anti-Russian rhetoric in Tbilisi, for example.
There is, however, another group for whom “Slavic brotherhood,” on the contrary, was a reason to stay in Serbia. Perhaps it was the Balkan nation that polarized our respondents the most: we received either unambiguously positive evaluations or unambiguously negative ones.
Still, many emigrants have refused to integrate into local communities in principle. This is especially true for IT workers, who, according to surveys, rarely interact with locals. At the same time, this does not mean that they remain in Russia mentally: they do not plan to return to Russia but rather use their host country as a safe space without becoming active civically there.
Something similar is reported by the small group of Russian political activists, who are “sitting on their suitcases.”
Who am I here?
The importance of this question depends on the status that respondents had in Russia. The average age of Russian emigrants is 31-32 years old, meaning these are men and women who have just started building careers.
Some of them are actually students who were forced to drop out of universities. For them, the question of status is not so important. They were ready to leave Russia by any means necessary – whether that meant as an employee or as a refugee.
The same can be said about activists and politically active emigrants.
I do not want to say this is true for all activists – of course, the patterns are more complex. But overall, our surveys show that for young people and activists in particular, their formal status in their new countries does not matter.
Another determining factor is what city emigrants lived in back in Russia.
The first waves of migration were made up exclusively of Russians from Moscow and St Petersburg. There were very few people from the rest of the country – mostly those for whom it became dangerous to remain in their homeland due to political persecution.
Subsequent emigration waves have seen more Russians from the regions.
There is, however, another group for whom “Slavic brotherhood,” on the contrary, was a reason to stay in Serbia. Perhaps it was the Balkan nation that polarized our respondents the most: we received either unambiguously positive evaluations or unambiguously negative ones.
Still, many emigrants have refused to integrate into local communities in principle. This is especially true for IT workers, who, according to surveys, rarely interact with locals. At the same time, this does not mean that they remain in Russia mentally: they do not plan to return to Russia but rather use their host country as a safe space without becoming active civically there.
Something similar is reported by the small group of Russian political activists, who are “sitting on their suitcases.”
Who am I here?
The importance of this question depends on the status that respondents had in Russia. The average age of Russian emigrants is 31-32 years old, meaning these are men and women who have just started building careers.
Some of them are actually students who were forced to drop out of universities. For them, the question of status is not so important. They were ready to leave Russia by any means necessary – whether that meant as an employee or as a refugee.
The same can be said about activists and politically active emigrants.
I do not want to say this is true for all activists – of course, the patterns are more complex. But overall, our surveys show that for young people and activists in particular, their formal status in their new countries does not matter.
Another determining factor is what city emigrants lived in back in Russia.
The first waves of migration were made up exclusively of Russians from Moscow and St Petersburg. There were very few people from the rest of the country – mostly those for whom it became dangerous to remain in their homeland due to political persecution.
Subsequent emigration waves have seen more Russians from the regions.
“Those from places other than Moscow and St Petersburg left mainly for Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan and Armenia. The geographic breakdown can be directly tied to economic disparities.”
Those who had the necessary documents and money (to qualify for investor visas, for example) could afford to go to European countries or the US. As a rule, this correlates with wealth and being from Moscow or St Petersburg. Meanwhile, Kazakhstan became the destination of choice for Russians from Yekaterinburg, Siberia and cities that are close to Russia’s southern neighbor. In addition, it is critical for people from the regions to have access to Russian-language services in their host countries, as many of them do not know English well enough.
Integration issues
According to our interviews, in six of the most popular host countries about half of the emigrant population has disconnected from the Russian news flow. They try to limit the content they consume, avoid burnout and switch to more enjoyable, less politicized content.
Many emigrants have started following local news, but this depends primarily on knowledge of the local language, which in turn depends on its difficulty and the integration infrastructure – for example, the availability of language courses and help with navigating the local bureaucracy.
In Serbia, such infrastructure is not so strong, but the Serbo-Croat language is similar to Russian, so by the third year of emigration many respondents can already handle simple everyday situations.
Integration issues
According to our interviews, in six of the most popular host countries about half of the emigrant population has disconnected from the Russian news flow. They try to limit the content they consume, avoid burnout and switch to more enjoyable, less politicized content.
Many emigrants have started following local news, but this depends primarily on knowledge of the local language, which in turn depends on its difficulty and the integration infrastructure – for example, the availability of language courses and help with navigating the local bureaucracy.
In Serbia, such infrastructure is not so strong, but the Serbo-Croat language is similar to Russian, so by the third year of emigration many respondents can already handle simple everyday situations.
“Meanwhile, practically no one has learned Georgian or Armenian.”
A Tbilisi neighborhood where some Russian emigrants are staying. Photo by Ekaterina Chigaleichik.
In European countries, especially in Germany, all integration programs are aimed at acclimatizing people quickly, and these programs actually work. The same goes for Finland, for example.
There is no such infrastructure in Georgia, Armenia or the Baltic countries. These are the countries whence migrants come and wither they do not go. Thus, Russians, along with other migrants, suffer from the lack of language courses or the poor quality of those available.
At the same time, regardless of the host country, an index of perceived well-being has gone up among our respondents. In most cases, this is attributable to the emergence of certainty about the future, in my view.
Indeed, the main reason for discomfort is uncertainty. The logic goes something like this: “we do not know what to expect. But if we know what to expect, then we can try to prepare for it.”
There is no such infrastructure in Georgia, Armenia or the Baltic countries. These are the countries whence migrants come and wither they do not go. Thus, Russians, along with other migrants, suffer from the lack of language courses or the poor quality of those available.
At the same time, regardless of the host country, an index of perceived well-being has gone up among our respondents. In most cases, this is attributable to the emergence of certainty about the future, in my view.
Indeed, the main reason for discomfort is uncertainty. The logic goes something like this: “we do not know what to expect. But if we know what to expect, then we can try to prepare for it.”
“Emigrants are aware they will not be returning home anytime soon. And this awareness forces them to come to terms with the new reality.”
Those who have found jobs in the local labor market are probably still the minority. A response like “I live in Serbia, Georgia or Armenia and work for a local company” is an exception; the rule is “I live in Serbia but work for a European, German, Danish, Finnish or US company.”
The view from Russia
Russia is ramping up transnational repression against emigrants. China uses the same practices.
Recently, Duma Chair Vyacheslav Volodin proposed banning Russians who have left the country from earning money in Russia, for example, by renting out their apartments. “Foreign agents,” meanwhile, are now obligated to have a special bank account, which makes it easier for the state to seize their money through fines or other penalties.
The view from Russia
Russia is ramping up transnational repression against emigrants. China uses the same practices.
Recently, Duma Chair Vyacheslav Volodin proposed banning Russians who have left the country from earning money in Russia, for example, by renting out their apartments. “Foreign agents,” meanwhile, are now obligated to have a special bank account, which makes it easier for the state to seize their money through fines or other penalties.
“Russian society has a negative attitude toward emigrants, and the distance between those who left and those who stayed is widening, with the latter trusting the former less and less.”
In my view, the main driver of this is the media.
Certain cliches and formulas for describing emigrants have formed and are recycled. There is, however, an important nuance: the attitude toward emigrants is largely determined by whether someone from the person’s immediate social circle has left the country.
Why emigrants are not fighting Putin
Russians emigrants are very tired. On the one hand, those who left two or three years ago have found some financial stability; on the other hand – from a psychological point of view and from that of political activity – they are demoralized, and many steer clear of politics.
In Germany, for example, no one stops emigrants from engaging in activism – say, from joining a local environmental organization. Emigrants themselves have chosen to withdraw into their private lives.
I see two reasons for why this is happening. The first is that to engage in politics and activism, you need to have resources, time and some education. You need civic skills; you need to understand what is going on.
Emigration, however, usually means the loss of socioeconomic resources. Emigrants are busy looking for work, getting their lives together, learning the local language and so on. They simply do not have time for volunteering or political activity.
The second reason, as mentioned above, is Russian transnational repression.
Emigrants may fear persecution: “if I get caught on camera as an activist with some anti-Putin slogan, [the Russian authorities] will raid my parents’ house.”
Interestingly, the most afraid are those who have never been involved in political activity – that is, the majority.
Certain cliches and formulas for describing emigrants have formed and are recycled. There is, however, an important nuance: the attitude toward emigrants is largely determined by whether someone from the person’s immediate social circle has left the country.
Why emigrants are not fighting Putin
Russians emigrants are very tired. On the one hand, those who left two or three years ago have found some financial stability; on the other hand – from a psychological point of view and from that of political activity – they are demoralized, and many steer clear of politics.
In Germany, for example, no one stops emigrants from engaging in activism – say, from joining a local environmental organization. Emigrants themselves have chosen to withdraw into their private lives.
I see two reasons for why this is happening. The first is that to engage in politics and activism, you need to have resources, time and some education. You need civic skills; you need to understand what is going on.
Emigration, however, usually means the loss of socioeconomic resources. Emigrants are busy looking for work, getting their lives together, learning the local language and so on. They simply do not have time for volunteering or political activity.
The second reason, as mentioned above, is Russian transnational repression.
Emigrants may fear persecution: “if I get caught on camera as an activist with some anti-Putin slogan, [the Russian authorities] will raid my parents’ house.”
Interestingly, the most afraid are those who have never been involved in political activity – that is, the majority.
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