Approximately 3.5 million people in Germany trace their roots to the post-Soviet space. These figures are estimates from a 2016 micro-census conducted by the Federal Statistical Office, not official tallies. A large portion speaks Russian or closely related languages, with communities concentrated in Russia, Kazakhstan, and Ukraine. The ongoing war in Ukraine has placed this migrant minority in a sensitive position between Russia and Germany, influencing daily life and civic participation.
Another sizeable group within Germany comprises about 2.5 million Russian-speaking residents who hold a distinct status as Russlanddeutsche, or Germans from Russia. Their ancestors emerged from German-speaking settlements established in the late 18th and early 19th centuries in the Volga region and along the northern coast of the Black Sea under the Russian Empire. The territory they settled in stretches from historic areas on the northern coast to regions in today’s southern Ukraine.
These communities were originally drawn by invitation from leaders like Empress Catherine II and Emperor Alexander I, who sought to populate and economicly strengthen vast parts of their realms. Historical authorities explain that settlers were offered land, tax concessions, exemptions from military service, religious freedom, local self-government, and a potential right of return to their origins if they chose to exercise it in the future.
wave of complaints
Following the 1917 Russian Revolution, the German ethnic minority in the USSR even established its own autonomous entity, the Volga German Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic. The upheavals of World War I, the subsequent global conflicts, and Stalinist repression pushed this community into precarious circumstances. Some descendants faced accusations of collaboration with the Nazis, while others left their ancestral homes during and after the Cold War’s end as borders shifted and identities evolved.
Today, German authorities continue to recognize citizenship pathways for descendants of settlers who once lived in the Russian Empire. The term spätaussiedler has been used to describe those returning from the post-Soviet region during the 20th and 21st centuries. The Russlanddeutsche label often describes individuals who neither fully speak German nor do they speak German clearly, sometimes reflecting lingering language barriers. The term can carry stigma, especially in discussions tied to the current conflict in Ukraine and its fallout in Europe.
Since the start of the Russian occupation, authorities in Germany have documented thousands of war-related crimes. Many incidents involve hate speech, intimidation, and even violence directed at the Russian-speaking community, which has frequently been cast as either victim or aggressor in these episodes. The migration-focused organization Mediendienst Integration has noted a rise in reports of attacks against the Russian-speaking population, while the Russian embassy in Germany has publicly condemned what it calls a surge in anti-Russian sentiment. Observers describe a climate of growing phobia tied to the war in Ukraine.
May 9
Understanding the stance of the Russian-speaking minority toward the war in Ukraine remains challenging. Fears about public exposure and being identified as Putin supporters influence expressions of opinion. A visit to the Treptow Park Soviet Memorial in Berlin on May 9, the day when Russia commemorates its victory over Nazi Germany, attracts a significant number of people with Soviet roots. Approximately 5,000 Soviet soldiers who died in World War II are buried there, making the site a focal point for remembrance and political sentiment.
This year’s commemorations were marked by heightened sensitivity. Berlin authorities implemented precautions to prevent clashes between Russian and Ukrainian extremists, including bans on national symbols of both countries and the former USSR at the site. Nevertheless, participants such as Igor, Artur, and Alex arrived, and some publicly displayed the Russian flag before the monumental statue of a liberating Soviet soldier, which bears a broken swastika and a girl in its arms.”
Among the visiting group, analysts note that a Kazakh-origin Russian contingent attends every May 9 ceremony. They described a fatigue with what they perceive as the criminalization of their homeland and referenced actions like the EU’s blocking of RT and Sputnik. Alex remarked, if local media tell the truth, why are Russian outlets banned? The broader claim was that the conflict is not a war against the Ukrainian people but a broader struggle framed by some as an assault on their own civilizational values. Others echoed support for President Vladimir Putin’s call for peace, suggesting the broader goal is reconciliation rather than ongoing conflict.
One participant from Germany shared a personal perspective: he is a German who returned from Russia, yet he frames his identity as rooted in the Soviet era. He described himself as a son of the Soviet Union and expressed ambivalence about the legacy of those times. Another speaker, Ludmila, held a photograph of her father, who fought as a Soviet hero in battles around Stalingrad and Moscow. She said she attends with her daughter Svetlana to honor those who fell, while also noting that her family originally hails from Moldova. They rejected claims of Russophobia in Germany, asserted their humanitarian efforts for Ukrainian refugees, and urged a call for wisdom from leaders to end the war. The mood among participants underscored the deep complexities of identity, memory, and current geopolitics in the German context.