Since Vladimir Putin’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, western nations have, justifiably, rallied to its support – welcoming refugees, supplying weapons, sanctioning Russian elites and rearming to defend European borders. Far less attention has been paid to the more uncomfortable question: what to do about the nearly one million liberal-minded, globally educated Russians who have fled their home country since the invasion?
Since settling in host countries, predominantly in Europe, many have encountered deep suspicion and became collateral victims of sanctions against the Russian state, seeing their bank accounts frozen, visas cancelled and obstacles put in their career path. These exiles now find themselves in a quandary: too Russian to be trusted in the West, and too anti-regime to live safely at home. Yet they may be one of the West’s most overlooked strategic assets – politically aware, economically self-reliant and familiar with the system they left behind. Having left Russia in 2022, I am part of this community in exile.
Those who have left Russia over the past three years are strikingly similar. Most are in their late 20s to mid-40s, globally minded and highly skilled. They come from Russia’s biggest cities – Moscow and St Petersburg – and predominantly work in the IT sector, academia, media, education and the arts. Most left with accumulated savings and speak fluent English. Eight out of 10 hold higher education degrees, while one in 10 has a PhD.
The quiet exodus
Their reasons for leaving Russia vary. Some, such as a 41-year-old university professor now living in Israel, were motivated by a mixture of protest and fear. ‘In Russia, I faced what I can only call a ban on my profession. It became impossible to keep teaching while staying silent [against the war]’ they said. ‘Before the war, I thought I could just do good in my small corner. But after February 2022, that illusion was shattered.’
Others left for more practical reasons, seeking new opportunities in the West as economic sanctions began to affect daily life in Russia. ‘Our work depended on international clients,’ said a tech entrepreneur, now based in Portugal. ‘After the invasion, everything collapsed – tools, payments, partnerships. If we wanted to keep building serious tech, we had to do it from outside Russia.’
In the early months of the war, many fled to neighbouring countries such as Georgia, Armenia, Turkey, Serbia, Kazakhstan and other Central Asian states – places that offered accessible, if temporary, refuge and didn’t require a visa. As the hopes of returning dwindled, many moved again. By early 2024, one in five had moved on from their initial host country, and one in three planned to move again within the year. Today, most are settled in Germany, France, Britain, the United States, Spain or Portugal where their experience as part of the Russian diaspora has been shaped by differing national visa policies.
Britain for example, offers a ‘Global Talent’ visa scheme, which has attracted Russian emigrants working in the tech and creative industries. The most recent data from 2022 suggests that there are more than 15,000 Russian exiles living in the UK. Germany is one of the few countries offering a humanitarian visa scheme for Russians facing political persecution, such as journalists, activists, academics and cultural figures. As a result, Berlin has become the centre for Russian exile activism across Europe.
The cost of leaving
For most, however, exile has come at a cost. Many walked away from successful careers in Russia, and while no government in the West has formally targeted them, a lack of support has left many struggling to find secure jobs, permanent visas and access to their pre-war savings. Even the most financially secure face structural hurdles, which include frozen bank accounts and strict compliance rules tied to holding a Russian passport. Countries such as Finland, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Poland and the Czech Republic have banned Russian passport holders from entering on tourist visas – the most common form of initial entry. In 2022, the European Union even debated a total ban on Schengen visas for Russians, though this was not adopted.
Others have met with discrimination, distrust and accusations of complicity from people in host countries. ‘Our biggest request is not funding – it’s access,’ said an IT entrepreneur now based in Britain. ‘We have the expertise and experience but earning trust as a Russian takes years. Only now, three years later, are some investors beginning to talk to us seriously.’
Meanwhile, publicly funded academic and cultural programmes for Russians have come under increasing scrutiny. In the UK, the Chevening Scholarship – a government-funded scheme – was suspended for Russian applicants between 2022 and 2024. Its reinstatement caused a public backlash, with critics arguing that support for Russian students could undermine sanctions or
assist future agents of the Kremlin.
Indeed, a recent New York Times investigation, exposed an ‘assembly line’ of elite Russian intelligence officers in Brazil, who were found to be building credible backstories in the country for operations elsewhere. Exiles understand the concerns. ‘I get why the West is cautious’ says a media professional, now based in Berlin. ‘Russia has weaponized its diaspora before. But many of us left precisely because we refused to be part of that machinery,’ she says.
For the West’s part, failing to support those who fled could prove a missed opportunity. The economic case for integrating Russian exiles is clear. With ageing populations and a shortage of tech talent, western democracies need skilled migration. Russia’s highly educated, post-2022 emigrants could help fill that gap. Some are already contributing to their host economies. Since leaving Russia, 7 per cent of emigrants have launched businesses, with another 30 per cent planning to so. In Armenia, Russian migrants drove a 12.6 per cent increase in GDP in 2022, enabled by relatively open policies and flexible residency rules.
Many can also offer insights into how Putin’s authoritarian regime operates. In fields such as Russian politics and security studies – where access to reliable data is shrinking – these voices provide expertise. Some are now affiliated to western think tanks and universities. In a time of mounting hybrid war, this knowledge is invaluable.
Other exiles are helping preserve the tools of democracy in Russia, from founding and maintaining independent Russian media outlets to launching diaspora platforms like the Free Russia Foundation and the Russian Democratic Society in London. More than half of Russians abroad say they would consider returning if the political regime changed – another reason why western governments should engage with this next generation of liberal-minded Russians.