As the battlefields of Ukraine are covered in the blood of young men, the halls of the Kremlin may soon play host to an infusion of young blood, hardened and shaped by their time on the front lines. Meanwhile, Russian towns and villages from Kaliningrad to Kamchatka could find themselves flush with cash as returning soldiers adapt to newfound wealth and play games of “keeping up with the Ivanovs.” The social fabric of Russia may never be the same.
The Russian government, through measures intentional and otherwise, has enacted policies that will likely create a new middle class from veterans of the ongoing invasion of Ukraine through the elevation of veterans to prominent roles in government, huge cash payments, and numerous structural benefits. The scale of these initiatives is unprecedented for the Russian Federation. Taken together, these policies could provide the Russian regime with an ongoing base of support, bring in a new class of loyal bureaucrats, and enable President Vladimir Putin to clear the government of those he is dissatisfied with.
Whether this plan will be realized is a different question.
In Russia, veterans have alternatively been a strengthening or destabilizing force to the state and society. In the aftermath of World War II, known as the Great Patriotic War in Russia, millions of veterans were granted preferences in education and employment, though these often proved temporary. These benefits were significantly expanded in the 1960s, enabled by the rapidly growing Soviet economy and motivated by a desire to keep this vital constituency loyal to the state, to develop the Great Patriotic War as a stabilizing national myth, and out of a genuine sense of societal debt. And for the most part, it worked. While not the only factor, the tangible benefits and societal regard conferred on veterans largely kept them onside.
Conversely, the experiences of the Afgantsy — the veterans of the Soviet War in Afghanistan — demonstrate how a lack of recognition and benefits can create an aggrieved class. Despite involving 600,000 troops, who bore the burden of an estimated 15,000 deaths, Afgantsy initially received scant benefits unless they had been severely wounded. It was only in 1983, four years after the war had started, that they were awarded the status of combat veterans and the benefits that came with this. But this initial failure, coupled with the declining ability of the Soviet state to actually provide benefits to Afgantsy, resulted in the Afghan war veteran becoming both a symbolic and physical source of destabilization.
Unable to handle the psychological trauma they endured or to acquire jobs in the declining Soviet economy of the 1980s, many Afgantsy organized, either as criminal groups or as political movements. The danger of the first group is apparent, but political groups also weakened the state by lending their credibility as veterans to reformist causes and attacking the legitimacy and morality of Soviet policy. In doing so, they contributed to the decline and collapse of the Soviet Union.
The Kremlin is doubtlessly aware of both cases and is eager to avoid a repeat of the aftermath of the Afghan War. Putin has famously lamented the Soviet Union’s collapse as “the greatest geopolitical catastrophe of the century,” while Chief of the General Staff Valery Gerasimov was a young officer during the Afghan War. Russia’s invasion of Ukraine also has more than a passing resemblance to the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. It was assumed that both would be brief, decisive victories, but both instead became lingering conflicts. The Russian state has wasted no time extending a litany of benefits to veterans of the ongoing war in Ukraine. Many of these benefits are intended to increase recruitment, but will certainly have an impact on whether veterans become a liability or an asset to the Russian regime in the long term. Benefits include free land, cash payments, preferential tax status, favorable loans, and priority in access to medical care. The favorable loans have taken on a new importance as similar programs for the general population have been wound down.
Just these benefits alone are likely to reshape the landscape of the Russian economy, as hundreds of thousands of men return to their homes with advantages that their peers simply cannot match. Veterans will have advantages that make them more likely to own homes than their counterparts and grant them a leg up in business. All this is to say nothing of the large quantities of cash that many veterans and their families are likely to come away with as a result of wages or bonuses paid during military service.
While Russian military pay was relatively competitive with civilian sector wages before the invasion of Ukraine, at least for contract soldiers, it has ballooned as the government attempts to induce volunteers to fight in its shockingly bloody war. Current reporting estimates that 160,000 to 220,000 Russian troops have died in combat, making recruiters’ jobs that much harder. Base pay for a contract soldier has risen to 200,000 rubles a month, nearly triple the median national wage. The differential is much greater for soldiers from rural or economically depressed areas. Soldiers are entitled to a signing bonus of 400,000 rubles from the federal government, alongside payments from their provincial government that can be even larger. If these ratios were carried over to the United States, a private would be paid around $120,000 a year, alongside a minimum signing bonus of $20,000 in cash.
For veterans who survive and are prudent with their savings (an uncertain prospect given the spending habits of many young men and the boom in consumer spending), this kind of money can easily be life-changing. This is even more true in the poor areas that the military disproportionately draws on for manpower. These regions have been major beneficiaries of war-induced economic boom, and banking information indicates that soldiers have been sending significant sums back home. Those who can leverage their pay and benefits, whether in acquiring higher education or starting a business, may begin to constitute a new middle class, or even an economic elite in the case of Russia’s provincial hinterlands.
For those veterans who convert their advantages into still greater wealth and cement themselves as economic leaders, they will owe their success to the state. These men are more likely to be loyal to that state, at the very least because they now have something to lose. Their businesses may acquire government contracts that they are anxious to keep, or they may fear losing their tax exemptions because they, their family members, or their employees attend protests, criticize the state online, or donate money to one of over 200 “undesirable organizations.” That is to say that these men, who will likely make up much of the bedrock of the Russian economy’s middle class in the decades to come, will most probably be loyal to the state, providing the Kremlin with assurances of stability for the next generation.
This is not dissimilar to what the United States experienced following World War II. The GI Bill would go on to provide education and opportunity for millions of servicemembers and their families, intrinsically tying their military service to the state. Men who would have been trapped in far-flung farms or urban slums ascended the social ladder in droves. The access to discounted loans and heavily subsidized college education proved integral in the expansion of the middle class, which in turn formed a cornerstone of Cold War America’s economic prosperity. Russia’s programs are fulfilling a similar function, but in a different fashion. While Russian veterans’ benefits do include educational and housing benefits, lavish pay may play the most important role in securing the loyalty and political reliability of veterans.
But veterans are useful outside of their potential for economic stabilization. Recent initiatives, first at the federal level and now across the nation, suggest that the Kremlin is preparing to bring large numbers of veterans into the government bureaucracy. In March 2024, Putin announced the so-called “Time of Heroes” project, which would see college-educated veterans of Russia’s war in Ukraine given the opportunity to be catapulted into high governmental positions. Putin praised such veterans as the “true, real elite” and 14,000 people reportedly applied to the program in the first 24 hours.
Early results seem to have been satisfactory. Of the initial class, which numbered 83, several have already been given major positions, including presidential envoy to the Ural Federal District and acting governor of the Tambov Region. In December, Putin announced that such programs would be expanded in size and scale across Russia, beginning in early 2025.
This program likely appeals to Putin for two distinct reasons: his predilection for siloviki and his frustration with his current crop of officials. Programs like “Time of Heroes” offer the possibility of catering to this predilection while satisfying dual demands for competence and loyalty.
Siloviki, literally “people of force,” are those who work in or uphold the culture of law enforcement, military, paramilitary, or intelligence organizations. Their approach to governance is generally characterized by loyalty to superiors, an inclination towards a strong state, and a willingness to use violent and sometimes ruthless methods to achieve their goals. As a former KGB officer, Putin likely feels kinship for the siloviki, and has filled his cabinet with such men.
Despite this, the failure of the Russian state to decisively win in Ukraine, or to satisfactorily respond to the economic and political pressures at home has almost certainly frustrated Putin. Sergei Shoigu was removed as minister of defense in April 2024, while Pavel Popov, a former deputy defense minister, was arrested in late August. In total, 10 significant military figures have been removed from office, with most also being arrested. Lower-level investigations against corruption have been launched in many different government sectors. For as much as Putin has favored siloviki for their loyalty and willingness to act decisively, the group currently in office is probably seen as unfit for the job.
In peacetime, Putin has used and tolerated corruption as a means of distributing patronage and gaining leverage over subordinates. However, as the war has placed increasing pressure on state resources and demanded more of the Russian people, anti-corruption efforts have increased. This serves to assure Russians that the regime is responsive and is also a convenient way to remove officials who have fallen out of favor.
By drawing on the large pool of veterans who already possess the practical leadership experience to prepare them for government roles, alongside the military pedigree that Putin values, the Kremlin will have access to a large pool of personnel with practical leadership experience who will owe their position exclusively to the state in general and to Putin in particular. For an autocrat, this is invaluable.
If this program is expanded, it could provide a pathway for thousands or tens of thousands of veterans to fill the bureaucracy. Such a large number of potential candidates could allow Putin to replace huge numbers of government officials to radically transform the bureaucracy, or at least credibly threaten to do so to induce concessions from current officials. If selection is genuinely meritocratic, this would almost definitely improve the basic functioning of the state, which in turn is likely to help assuage public dissatisfaction while also generally increasing efficiency. Even if it is not meritocratic, officials who owe fidelity to the top are likely to support their benefactor at the expense of other interest groups. Coupled with a prominent role for veterans in the post-war economy, veterans of the war in Ukraine may prove decisive in securing Russian authoritarianism for many decades to come, as well as generally improving state functions. Given Putin’s focus on the military, it would be unsurprising if newly minted battlefield commanders find themselves elevated to national positions.
Of course, this is not certain to happen. A severe recession or hyperinflation, caused by an overheated economy or Russia losing its war, could destroy veteran’s savings or force the government to cut benefits, eliminating their economic advantage and sparking resentment among them. Where the Soviet Union had Afgantsy, Putin’s Russia may find itself stuck with Ukrainsy.
A repeat of the 1990s is not impossible, though it is unlikely — inflation is already high and interest rates are at a record high 21 percent. Less dramatically, the Kremlin could pause plans to bring veterans of the invasion of Ukraine into the government in large numbers, minimizing their impact in the political realm. It’s also possible that, in the grand Russian tradition, candidates could simply purchase their admission, creating a new class of loyal bureaucrats with uncertain ability.
These variables provide for several different scenarios. In the most positive case for the Kremlin, loyal veterans will provide regime stability and improve efficiency. But this requires Putin and his aides to overcome endemic corruption in hiring processes, economic headwinds that threaten postwar Russia, and the resistance of the current bureaucratic class. In the most pessimistic case, where the economy takes a serious downturn and programs designed to bring capable veterans into the bureaucracy are successfully resisted or corrupted, veterans may become a grievance class with destabilizing impacts. Between these poles are many middling conditions, where partial successes maintain the status quo or provide limited benefits. Some veterans may find themselves elevated to leadership roles based on merit while others climb the ladder by greasing palms, and loyalty is mixed with grumbling about broken promises.
All of that being said, the conclusion of a large military conflict is inevitably accompanied by social and political realignments. In Russia, these realignments have sometimes supported the state and sometimes hobbled it. With the war still raging and the troops at the front, it is unclear which of these will be true this time around. However, for perhaps the first time ever, the Russian state is taking affirmative steps to secure veterans as an asset.
Harry Francisco Stevens conducts research with the Center for the National Interest, where he specializes in Russian affairs and defense economics. He currently works in artificial intelligence and is a graduate of the University of Chicago.
Thomas Lattanzio is a public service fellow at the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies with a concentration in security, strategy, and statecraft. He has served in the U.S. Navy as an enlisted sailor and as a civilian within the federal government.
Image: Ministry of Defence of the Russian Federation via Wikimedia Commons
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