Four years of war in Ukraine have left an indelible mark on Russia, a country that has now endured a conflict longer than its involvement in World War II. With over 186,000 verified Russian combat deaths, the human cost is staggering, and the impact on the nation's psyche is profound.
As Ukrainian refugees continue to flee and those who remain brave the harsh winter, we must ask: How has Russia changed in these four years? Al Jazeera delved into this question, speaking with individuals inside and outside the country to understand the transformations since February 24, 2022.
Life in the Borderlands
In western Russia, bordering Ukraine, regions like Kursk and Belgorod have faced artillery barrages, drone strikes, and even ground incursions from Ukrainian forces. Ben Higginbottom, a 25-year-old YouTuber who moved to Kursk with his Russian wife in 2021, shared his experience: "Just over a year ago, while Ukrainian forces were still in the region, we'd get strikes multiple times a day. What might surprise people is how accustomed locals became, including me. No one ran to shelters with each strike; otherwise, life would be impossible."
According to local news, at least 458 civilians have lost their lives in Ukrainian attacks on the Belgorod region since the war began.
Major Cities: A Different Reality
In stark contrast, major metropolises like Moscow and St. Petersburg have remained largely untouched by the war. Sanctions imposed by Ukraine's Western allies are felt more as inconveniences than as a war-like atmosphere. Andrey, a 30-year-old Muscovite, expressed his shock at the rising prices: "It's so expensive. I'm in shock. It's like Europe—everyone complains about prices there too. Even a small purchase can cost at least 1,000 roubles [$13]. But in Moscow, people's purchasing power hasn't dropped significantly. Kids are crowded in lines at supermarket cafes, and the city is full of taxi and delivery drivers."
The Impact on Daily Life
Some aspects of daily life have indeed changed. Kirill F, a 39-year-old photographer from St. Petersburg, noted the difficulty in finding certain brands: "It became very problematic to find some brands I used to buy. They can be found from resellers, but they're more expensive and no longer sold in stores. Some South Korean brands have returned, like LG washing machines and refrigerators. Chinese brands are available too, but they're not of the same quality as the tech we used to get from Germany or Poland."
To navigate payment restrictions due to Western sanctions, Kirill opened a bank account in Kyrgyzstan. While not an insurmountable obstacle, it's an annoyance, he said.
Government Restrictions and Media Control
Kirill also expressed concern about the restrictions imposed by the Kremlin. Since 2022, strict laws have been introduced penalizing what the government calls "fake news" about the invasion. Social media platforms like Instagram, Facebook, WhatsApp, Telegram, and YouTube have been blocked or made harder to access, with state-backed alternatives like RuTube and the messaging app Max promoted instead.
"At first, we were blocked from using Facebook, but few people used it, and they just installed VPNs. Then YouTube was banned. For ordinary citizens, this blockage just worsens life. Younger people perceive it as a violation of their personal life, and they will grow up hating the state," Kirill recounted.
Public Opinion and the War
Opinion polls consistently show widespread public support for the war, although analysts caution that laws criminalizing anti-war sentiment make it challenging to judge the accuracy of these polls. Vladislav, a 30-year-old from Saratov, initially had doubts about the war, questioning the narrative of "denazification." However, after seeing symbols of fascist ideology on some Ukrainian soldiers' uniforms, he now supports Russia's war on Ukraine: "Zelenskyy and his entire fascist fraternity must be destroyed. I hope my brother, who is a drone pilot in the Russian forces, will make a huge contribution."
Kirill, too, had initial doubts about the invasion, viewing it as a failure of Russian diplomacy. Over time, his attitude towards peace and liberals grew more cynical: "We read both the foreign press and the liberal analysts, who told us the Russian economy had two weeks left, yet here we are four years later, and everything's fine. What do you think our attitude will be towards those who told us such things?"
Apathy and Denial
Historically, many Russians have focused more on day-to-day survival than the machinations of power, and this trend has continued with the "special military operation." Andrey, a 30-year-old Muscovite, observed: "Everyone's in denial. Almost everyone in my circles is staunchly apolitical and tries to ignore the news."
Deserters and Draft Dodgers
For some, denial is not an option. Alexander Medvedev, a 38-year-old trucker from Kemerovo in Siberia, was mobilized into the elite Ural Battalion after completing his national service and a previous deployment to Syria. Assigned as a machine gunner in a support platoon, Medvedev's close encounter with the carnage of war changed his perspective. Traveling through war-torn Ukrainian villages and speaking with locals, he began questioning his mission: "The realization that I was fighting a war that no one needed, that would bring no good to anyone but only produce a mountain of corpses, haunted me."
On July 7, 2023, Medvedev went AWOL and attempted to return home. Facing criminal indictment, he contacted the organization Get Lost, which helped him escape abroad. "I miss my homeland very much. I hope to return but to a different country where people will value peace."
Emigration and Return
In the first year of the war, experts estimated that about two million Russians left their motherland, including young men fearing conscription and those with anti-Putin convictions. Mike, a 35-year-old from Russia's fourth-largest city, packed a small bag and decided to "get the hell out of Yekaterinburg." He has since settled in Berlin, where he's involved in an activist community helping those still in Russia. However, he's grown disillusioned with both the West and the liberal Russian opposition: "The genocide in Gaza, conducted with the complicity of Western elites, shattered any illusions about Western powers helping Ukraine."
If the West isn't ready for more direct intervention, Mike believes a compromise is more reasonable, even if it means a defeat for Ukraine. "After four years, the situation looks bleak. This winter in Ukraine, Putin's regime showed its most cynical, inhuman nature by destroying civic infrastructure. That tells you a lot about how far they'll go."
Many Russian emigres have returned home due to difficulties fitting in or finding work in their host countries, and rising anti-immigrant sentiment isn't helping. Mike, now in Berlin, said: "Life is good, but I'm more conscious of my immigration status. I didn't plan on leaving [Russia], but I'm not fantasizing about returning."
The impact of four years of war in Ukraine on Russia is complex and multifaceted, affecting everything from daily life and public opinion to the nation's relationship with the outside world. As we reflect on these changes, one question remains: What does the future hold for Russia and its people?
