Two young Muscovites chase a status symbol: a high-paying job, a luxury car with a driver, and a declaration that they are moving on from Russia for good. The scene pivots when an elderly woman is helped into the moving vehicle by two youths in simpler clothes, a moment that carries a snide remark from the woman’s companion. The clip is presented as propaganda on Telegram, aimed at discrediting Russians who have left the country and refuse to participate in a conflict they do not perceive as theirs. A major Russian bank is cited in speculation that about 1.1 million citizens left the country in the past year, in two waves: once at the outset of the Ukraine offensive in February–March, and again during the wave caused by partial mobilization in September. The diaspora, largely settled in neighboring post-Soviet states, encounters a mix of welcome and difficulty, with Moscow trying to deter the “bleeding” of its population and the temptation to return.
New propaganda on Telegram mocks Russians who fled mobilization. A widely shared caption reads, “The boys are gone but the boys have stayed.” In the context of a broader exodus, Kazakhstan emerges as a favored destination. The country’s visa-free entry and permissive use of the Russian language initially attracted those fleeing both the mobilization and political unrest. Hospitality appeared generous at first, with public spaces like cinemas and hotels accommodating newcomers as vacancies filled up. Yet over time frictions and constraints surfaced.
One exile, Kristina, explains that a company offered to relocate her to another country, and she accepted quickly. She was fortunate to be part of a corporate move rather than an isolated expatriate transfer. Kazakh authorities later tightened the visa-free regime, allowing only 90 days of uninterrupted stay for foreigners, with a mandatory waiting period of up to 180 days before re-entry. The policy shift disproportionately affected those seeking longer-term residence and hindered the ability of Russians to relocate freely.
Viacheslav, a young man who fled after hearing that soldiers might be recruited, recalls a warm reception from locals that initially eased his sense of danger. Yet he also witnessed price spikes and growing insecurity. Rentals often demanded three months’ rent in advance, an unusual requirement in his home country. He fears it will take time to return, if at all, until the war ends and safety is assured. He worries about a possible government database that could flag him to bar future departures, a fear that has spread through social networks as well.
In the South Caucasus, Georgia became a notable destination after February 24, 2022, the day Russia launched its offensive against Ukraine. The country, along with two regions not fully recognized by Georgia’s allies, faced mixed dynamics. Reports described a largely welcoming reception by locals toward Russian migrants, even as some residents adjusted to the new presence. Simultaneously, some Russians and Belarusians encountered social friction once nationality became known, and the influx contributed to rising rents in major cities. Crossing the land border remained challenging, with vehicle traffic increasingly restricted near border zones.
A Moscow-born editor notes anecdotal friction at the border, as Russians seeking asylum or a new start encountered a complex mix of hospitality and caution. Media reports from the Russia–Georgia border show that men of military age continued to seek ways to avoid conscription, underscoring the human toll of mobilization on families and communities. Beyond border stories, thousands of Russians arrived in Georgia during 2022, with a notable peak in September after the mobilization announcement. The scale of temporary migration was striking in a country with a population of roughly four million.
Arkadi, a Russian who arrived in 2022, describes a generally normal reception from locals, though a few conversations turned awkward after his nationality became clear. Georgia remains a popular exit route for those leaving Russia, though land entry has grown more difficult as border activity increases. Among those who crossed into the South Caucasus, public sentiments varied, with graffiti and messages that reflected a mix of anti-Russian and pro-Russian voices. The presence of Russians, Belarusians, and Ukrainians in Georgia coincided with rising rents and a broader debate about integration and local tolerance.
Some observers note that more than half of a workplace team in Tbilisi faced rent pressures, leading to evictions and precarious housing for several individuals. Debates in public discourse and among policymakers included proposals to seize assets from Russians who left the country to support orphans, a measure framed as retribution for perceived betrayal. The discussion highlighted a broader tension between punitive policy ideas and humanitarian concerns for people seeking safety and stability abroad.
hardening of requirements
As the migration story unfolds, the practical realities of relocation come into sharper focus. The shift in visa policies, housing markets, and social expectations shapes the experiences of those who chose to leave. The narrative reveals a mix of welcome and friction wherever Russians go, underscoring the complexity of migration in a time of conflict and political upheaval. The human dimension—families, workers, and students—remains at the center of these developments, even as governments balance national interests with international pressures and the needs of those seeking safety.
The broader picture remains that Russians abroad face a mosaic of opportunities and obstacles: from temporary accommodation to longer-term residency, from friendly gestures to social friction, and from supportive employers to policy shifts. While some find new beginnings, others wrestle with uncertainty about return, safety, and the continuity of their lives across borders. The story of migration in this region continues to unfold, with real people navigating real risks and hopes in a rapidly changing landscape.
Sources note that the movement is not a single cohesive wave but a series of waves shaped by political signals and practical realities. In the end, the decisions of individuals are bound up with the actions of states, the availability of work, and the evolving rules that govern cross-border life. The human stakes remain high as families adjust, communities adapt, and policymakers respond to a moment of upheaval with a range of responses that reflect both compassion and caution.