Society
The War Is Fueling a Mental Health Crisis in Russia
April 24, 2026
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Rustam Alexander
Melbourne University and author of Red Closet: The Hidden History of Gay Oppression in the USSR and AIDS in Soviet Russia
A story of deception, despair and hope.
The Kremlin’s war against Ukraine is driving a growing mental health crisis in Russia. As soldiers come home and return to civilian life, an unprepared healthcare system, in a society historically skeptical of mental health care, means soldiers’ families are often left to deal with soldiers’ trauma without real support, historian Rustam Alexander writes.
One of the long-term consequences of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022 will be a profound mental health crisis both among soldiers and across Russian society at large. The protracted war, the regime’s worsening repression (including the recent internet crackdown) and a stagnating economy, together with persistent anxiety over a new mobilization, have already left millions of Russians experiencing chronic stress, anxiety and depression. Even more alarming, however, is the psychological impact of the war on those who come back after fighting. Indeed, many suffer from severe post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Some returning soldiers bring severe trauma back into civilian life and pose a threat to others, becoming violent and committing crimes.
Psychological trauma is an inevitable consequence of any war. As Benjamin Zajicek shows, the Great Patriotic War wreaked havoc on the mental health of Soviet soldiers. In 1943, Moscow’s neuropsychiatric hospitals reported 55% of newly admitted patients suffered from some form of traumatic brain disorder, while a further 30% exhibited “so-called neurosis and hysterical and neurotic reactions connected with psychological trauma at the front.” Soviet psychiatrists worried not only that brain injuries sustained in the war would make individuals more vulnerable to ordinary stress, but also that they could lead to lasting personality changes, described as “post-traumatic psychopathization of personality.”
In 1945, the prominent psychiatrist Vasily Gilyarovsky warned that veterans were experiencing a condition he termed “nervous demobilization.” Gilyarovsky explained that during the war, Soviets had possessed a clear sense of purpose enabling them to “mobilize their internal resources” and endure constant physical and mental strain. After the war was over, however, their nervous system continued to operate as though it were still fighting for survival. This made former soldiers vulnerable to stress, depression and heightened nervousness. To help soldiers readjust to civilian life, Gilyarovsky proposed adding a staff psychiatrist to every large general hospital. Yet soldiers were reluctant to seek psychiatric help because of the stigma attached to psychiatric diagnoses, and many drowned their grief in alcohol instead.
The context and nature of Russia’s current war against Ukraine are undoubtedly different, but it is clearly leaving many Russian soldiers with severe psychological trauma that they will now bring into civilian life. Ensuring that they do not pose a risk to those around them is the most urgent task at the moment, and it is fraught with difficulties.
Psychological trauma is an inevitable consequence of any war. As Benjamin Zajicek shows, the Great Patriotic War wreaked havoc on the mental health of Soviet soldiers. In 1943, Moscow’s neuropsychiatric hospitals reported 55% of newly admitted patients suffered from some form of traumatic brain disorder, while a further 30% exhibited “so-called neurosis and hysterical and neurotic reactions connected with psychological trauma at the front.” Soviet psychiatrists worried not only that brain injuries sustained in the war would make individuals more vulnerable to ordinary stress, but also that they could lead to lasting personality changes, described as “post-traumatic psychopathization of personality.”
In 1945, the prominent psychiatrist Vasily Gilyarovsky warned that veterans were experiencing a condition he termed “nervous demobilization.” Gilyarovsky explained that during the war, Soviets had possessed a clear sense of purpose enabling them to “mobilize their internal resources” and endure constant physical and mental strain. After the war was over, however, their nervous system continued to operate as though it were still fighting for survival. This made former soldiers vulnerable to stress, depression and heightened nervousness. To help soldiers readjust to civilian life, Gilyarovsky proposed adding a staff psychiatrist to every large general hospital. Yet soldiers were reluctant to seek psychiatric help because of the stigma attached to psychiatric diagnoses, and many drowned their grief in alcohol instead.
The context and nature of Russia’s current war against Ukraine are undoubtedly different, but it is clearly leaving many Russian soldiers with severe psychological trauma that they will now bring into civilian life. Ensuring that they do not pose a risk to those around them is the most urgent task at the moment, and it is fraught with difficulties.
Afghan War Veterans In Russia
Maksim Bogodvid / Wikimedia Commons
Maksim Bogodvid / Wikimedia Commons
The first is that mental health care continues to be a sensitive and at times controversial issue in today’s Russia. During the Soviet period, communist ideology stigmatized psychiatry and psychology through its portrayal of the Soviet people as invincible, its rejection of Western psychoanalytic thought and its use of punitive psychiatry against dissidents. This legacy likely continues to shape returning Russian soldiers’ attitudes toward psychological support. Indeed, many veterans of the Kremlin’s “special military operation” refuse such help, believing they must deal with their problems on their own. Volunteers are often left trying to persuade them to seek professional psychological assistance.
Another difficulty is a shortage of psychologists in the country, along with a lack of the training needed to address the psychological problems of returning soldiers. In an attempt to address this gap, in December members of the Russian parliament proposed recruiting and training psychologists from among men with combat experience in Afghanistan, Syria and Chechnya, while Russian health officials have been hectically improvising, revising and updating guidelines for addressing PTSD among veterans of the “special military operation.”
There are further complications. For example, many psychotherapists do not support the war and are simply afraid to counsel former soldiers. As is well known, effective psychotherapy requires people to speak their mind, yet both psychotherapists and patients are afraid to speak about the war frankly due to fear of repression.
In this situation, the burden of managing the consequences of war trauma has fallen largely on soldiers’ relatives and partners. Though there are some online resources for guidance, they are overly simplistic and geared more toward “putting out fires” than addressing the underlying issue. For instance, one website suggests that if a soldier experiences an episode of “uncontrollable anger, accompanied by a desire to drown the pain in alcohol,” his wife should make sure “the children are with their grandmother.” The resources also recommend that wives and relatives “increase their own psychological awareness” so as to assess their spouse’s behavior appropriately and “avoid making the problem worse with their own inappropriate responses.”
That is easier said than done. For many wives and relatives, who have long regarded mental health care with suspicion or disapproval or had no conception of it, such recommendations mean nothing – dealing with a former soldier’s war trauma is not a skill that can be learned overnight. The result is that in Russia today, those closest to returning soldiers are left to navigate severe and sometimes dangerous psychological trauma with minimal support, knowledge or tools.
Another difficulty is a shortage of psychologists in the country, along with a lack of the training needed to address the psychological problems of returning soldiers. In an attempt to address this gap, in December members of the Russian parliament proposed recruiting and training psychologists from among men with combat experience in Afghanistan, Syria and Chechnya, while Russian health officials have been hectically improvising, revising and updating guidelines for addressing PTSD among veterans of the “special military operation.”
There are further complications. For example, many psychotherapists do not support the war and are simply afraid to counsel former soldiers. As is well known, effective psychotherapy requires people to speak their mind, yet both psychotherapists and patients are afraid to speak about the war frankly due to fear of repression.
In this situation, the burden of managing the consequences of war trauma has fallen largely on soldiers’ relatives and partners. Though there are some online resources for guidance, they are overly simplistic and geared more toward “putting out fires” than addressing the underlying issue. For instance, one website suggests that if a soldier experiences an episode of “uncontrollable anger, accompanied by a desire to drown the pain in alcohol,” his wife should make sure “the children are with their grandmother.” The resources also recommend that wives and relatives “increase their own psychological awareness” so as to assess their spouse’s behavior appropriately and “avoid making the problem worse with their own inappropriate responses.”
That is easier said than done. For many wives and relatives, who have long regarded mental health care with suspicion or disapproval or had no conception of it, such recommendations mean nothing – dealing with a former soldier’s war trauma is not a skill that can be learned overnight. The result is that in Russia today, those closest to returning soldiers are left to navigate severe and sometimes dangerous psychological trauma with minimal support, knowledge or tools.
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