SOCIETY
‘Retreating into Their Work is the Most Convenient and Natural Path for Scientists in a Difficult Situation’
April 15, 2025
  • Alexander Markov

    Russian biologist, paleontologist and popularizer of science
Alexander Markov, who headed the Evolution Department at Moscow State University before the war, reflects on why most scientists have chosen to remain in Russia and how they are doing today, as well as what risks and temptations they face.
The original text in Russian was published in T-Invariant and is being republished here with small changes and with their permission.

At first, many thought that Russian science was on the verge of collapse. The mass outflow of scientists after the start of the “special operation,” Western sanctions, the unbearable psychological atmosphere inside the country – could normal scientific work continue in such conditions? It turned out that it very well could.
The Weizmann Institute of Science, Israel. Source: Wiki Commons
Almost as if nothing happened

Universities, institutes and laboratories continue to operate. Grants are issued, research is conducted, articles are written. Scientists who remain in the country do not intend to abandon their life’s work. The sanctions have demonstrated their complete impotence: there are a thousand ways to circumvent them, including purchasing (even at inflated prices) reagents and equipment for research. Most importantly, people, even those who do not support the Kremlin’s policies, have gradually become accustomed to the new reality and have stopped perceiving it as something unimaginable or incompatible with normal life and work.

I left Russia in 2022 for reasons that were mostly emotional. I realized I would not be able to get used to life in a country that had decisively shaken off the last remnants of freedom and democracy and unleashed an aggressive war of conquest – with the support, let’s face it, of a significant portion of the population.
Emigration is almost always an expensive, even financially ruinous, endeavor. Radical downshifting is basically inevitable. I lost a lot, including an interesting and important job at Moscow State University (I had headed up the Evolution Department in the Faculty of Biology). I lost my beloved house in the woods on the shore of the White Sea, where my family and I spent our summers and were happy.

I have no doubts about the choice I made, and I really did not have the option to stay, as the abovementioned psychological reasons proved insurmountable for me. I give thanks to Israel, which has become my new home.
“But I have not lost touch with my colleagues, and I follow developments in Russia, trying to understand how it happened that so many good, decent people are still doing the science they love and other usual things, and overall everything is OK with them.”
A colleague who recently returned to Israel from Russia, where she had been for a couple of weeks, helped me to understand this. She is like me – a recently emigrated scientist. On condition of anonymity, she agreed to share her impressions from interactions with colleagues and friends who remain in Putin’s Russia. These impressions are completely in tune with what I feel myself when communicating with Russian colleagues online, and they support my hypotheses. Her story, in my view, does not need any additional comments. Here is what she said.

Sadness and schadenfreude

Everyone knows that after the start of the “special operation” many scientists left Russia. No one knows exactly how many. Some supposed this brain drain would be hard for Russia to recover from. When you think about it like this, the feeling of deep and bitter sadness combines with a bit of schadenfreude: “good luck doing good science without us!” However, both sadness and schadenfreude seem to be off base.

Society condemns schadenfreude, though it is a completely natural feeling, since it is embedded in our neural reward circuits. They are stimulated when a foe is in a bad way, and a person reflexively experiences a flash of joy. But in this case, we are not talking about enemies: it is not enemies who remain in Russia, but rather former colleagues with whom we studied and worked together. Thus, the first rush of schadenfreude is immediately canceled out by the obvious ambivalence of the situation.

But there is nothing to be sad about – most scientists stayed in Russia.
Some do not have the financial means to leave, some find it hard to give up their established life and career, some are held back by family circumstances and some rightfully believe their home is Russia, no matter how good or bad it is.
The Presidium of the Russian Academy of Sciences building in Moscow.
Source: Wiki Commons
It is also worth remembering that many Russians sincerely support the Kremlin’s policies and the so-called “special operation.” The figure among scientists is probably lower than across many other groups in society, but it is not insignificant.

Russian scientists continue their work. Scientific research has not stopped; the scientific community, experienced and knowledgeable, continues to move forward. New cadres immediately took the place of those who left, as Russia is big and, as the saying goes, “nature abhors a vacuum.” The Russian press has even reported headline growth in the number of scientific workers in the last few years, rightly noting that “strengthening the human capital in the science and tech space is one of the main conditions for achieving… the technological sovereignty of Russia that is now demanded by the government.”

Who has replaced the scientists who left?

They are young, dedicated and ambitious. Their enthusiasm and determination sometimes make up for their lack of knowledge. And perhaps their lack of understanding of what is going on, as well. One of these young scientists happily told me that she was “lucky” because her scientific mentor left the country and she “inherited” two large grants. With these grants she managed quickly to resolve her challenging personal circumstances and boost her career prospects.

Another young researcher had a laboratory fall into his lap, noting that though others had had a hard time in the last two years (as he put it delicately), his work, on the contrary, had taken off. He got money, a laboratory and his own research topics. I believe young people will figure things out and will gain experience and expertise in their fields.

Science funding in 2022 was also rather strong. Surprisingly, that year researchers received more grants, meaning a significant increase in salaries and the opportunity to purchase needed supplies. People who had been unsuccessfully applying for grants for years suddenly received them.

One of these scientists bitterly remarked: “why do I need them now after all my students have run away?” Another (who unexpectedly received two grants) said: “what is this miracle, why have the experts suddenly taken a liking to our topics so much?” Both questions are rhetorical. What is important here is that in 2022 the authorities apparently thought it necessary to pour additional funding into science. Perhaps they were also nervous.

But everything turned out OK, and grants were cut back the very next year. In numerical terms, the decrease is not very visible (for example, in biology and earth sciences 559 projects were approved in 2022 versus 496 in 2023). But in money terms, taking into account inflation and rising prices for laboratory consumables, the rollback was very unpleasant for scientists.

The heads of biology grant projects complain the prices of their usual consumables have soared 300-400%. And no wonder: now they need be obtained in the face of sanctions, through chains of intermediaries.

Geologists complain that some projects with Rosneft that had been prepared and planned before 2022 (in particular, projects on isotope research and dating) were canceled or postponed until better times. International sanctions on energy purchases were the culprit.

Yet all this is unlikely to stop the development of science in Russia. Innovative scientists know how to adapt. Moreover, over the last decade a considerable amount of equipment was acquired. It will last for several years.

Local and foreign scientific expertise

Peer review in local journals has not gone anywhere. In my view, Russian scientists gained experience in high-quality peer review over the past two decades, and their scientific skills and responsibility are high on average. Thus, by force of inertia good works are published in Russian scientific journals.
“True, there are signs that the bar for peer review is gradually being lowered, with even good Russian scientific journals starting to publish less than scrupulous articles.”
The normal scientific process requires connections with foreign colleagues. Joint scientific projects, as well as scientific cooperation with the US and European countries, have now largely been stopped. Russia is actively establishing scientific ties with China, however. The Middle Kingdom is both a scientific partner and a seemingly inexhaustible source of equipment, spare parts and materials that can be acquired in circumvention of Western sanctions.

One of my acquaintances, a good oceanographer, went to China with a group of colleagues on a scientific visit this year. When I asked him what they did, he replied: “they took us around China, showed us the country, treated us to all kinds of food...” But what about scientific work? “Nothing special, we just drove around. I had wanted to visit China for a long time!”

What is the point of such trips? Perhaps it is simply a demonstration of the willingness of both countries to cooperate. Through China an alternative network of international contacts is supposed to be established, as well.

Who left and who stayed

One way or another, scientific work goes on, topics are approved, reports are written, experiments and field expeditions are planned and conducted, salaries are not bad by Russian standards. The scientists who stayed in Russia are doing fine.
“Those who left, of course, lost a lot, at least in terms of their scientific activities.”
Most of the older and middle-aged scientists who left Russia after the start of the war have had to build their lives and careers practically from scratch, even if they had important scientific achievements and publications in highly rated journals to their names.

As part of the downshifting, they had to go through a hard job search, which, if successful, typically meant work on others’ ideas and projects, alongside a low salary and low status like that of a lab assistant. Not fun. In such a situation, every day you ask yourself: was it worth it?

It is like living with a monster under your bed. You are constantly aware of it. Even if you cannot see it, you know it is there, but you cannot talk about it.

In Russian laboratories and teams, other monsters lurk under the bed. Talking about politics is frowned upon. The situation on the battlefield is not discussed either. In those rare moments when something is said, it is only words of approval with explanations in line with the official ones heard on television. Russia is great and invincible.

Sometimes personal stories are heard about how well Ukrainians and Russians got along in Soviet times and how later Ukrainians offended or insulted someone’s “relative/acquaintance/neighbor.” Anyone who disagrees must keep quiet, lest a criminal case is brought against them.

One elderly scientist said: “in Soviet times, we got used to not talking about politics, so it is not hard for me to fall back on this behavior now.”

This is reasonable – colleagues must work together regardless of their views. Science is science, yet personal relationships do not disappear. Thus, while discussing RNA, crystals, ecological niches and isotopes, the question of whose side you are on still looms. To work effectively, it is better not even to think about this. Alas, this does not always work.

For example, one of my colleagues who stayed had to resign as head of a laboratory, giving up money and his career, as he could not, in his words, manage employees who held views contradictory to his own.
“But for the most part, scientists have already persuaded themselves to stop thinking about the war and the political situation in the country. This is needed for work and actually is not so hard.”
The main building of Moscow State University. Source: Wiki Commons
In the arsenal of such reassuring arguments, two stand out: “nothing has changed, the stores have everything and the concert lineups are interesting” and “my goal is to do my job.” I have heard both arguments in different variations multiple times.
Retreating into their work is the most convenient and natural path for scientists in a difficult situation. Scientific work is interesting – it is important for them and even quite prestigious in society. Work allows them to escape from the oppressiveness of the surrounding reality.

A real scientist is always immersed in thoughts about their work – pondering the mysteries of the universe does not end when they go home. Doing science naturally helps them to overcome pangs of internal resistance to the political environment.

In a conversation about getting used to unfreedom and the boundaries for individual behavior established by a repressive political regime that is supported by a significant portion of the country, a psychologist acquaintance of mine, a graduate of the Higher School of Economics, voiced a simple idea. Being constantly conscious of these boundaries and their dissonance with your own moral principles requires emotional effort and mental expenditure. To save mental strength, it is better just to let everything take its course. Moreover, the best result – a clear understanding of the real situation – will not make you any happier.
“To preserve peace of mind and even just to survive, most people find it easier and better to accept everything as it is.”
Thus, even in science we have the same thing – a gradual and inevitable acceptance of the current situation. People get used to the rigidity of unfreedom. Like in the classic five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.

There was denial: in the first months of the war, it seemed that everything would end soon – this madness could not go on for long. People took a wait-and-see attitude.
There was anger: the most popular New Year’s wish for the incoming 2023 led to memes with Santa Claus sighing over a mountain of letters: “I’m not an assassin!”
There was (and still is) depression: the use of antidepressants in Russia in 2022-23 nearly doubled (see Russia.Post about it here).

Before reaching the final stage, people often left the country. But now those who remain are coming to acceptance.

Conclusions

Acceptance is exactly what the regime wants. It does everything possible so valuable workers do their jobs calmly, like “business as usual.”

Persecution has been carried out vigorously enough to intimidate and silence dissenters, but it has not been widespread enough to provoke a panicked rush to the exits.

The borders remain open, inflation is not that high, there has been no new wave of mobilization and products are on the shelves at stores. The Kremlin has managed to maintain the appearance of normalcy. But is it just an appearance? In my view, the Putin regime has achieved a decisive victory on the home front. And this gives it the determination to fight even harder to achieve its objectives beyond Russia’s borders.
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