Kseniya Kirillova
June 11, 2025
CEPA
Even the regime’s favored media has spotted the increasing reluctance to sign up for the war. The “last train effect,” when people went to war for short-term gain and hoped they would not really have to fight, “is almost exhausted,” the Kremlin-friendly Nezygar Telegram channel reported, citing a government source.
Russians are still volunteering for the front because the financial situation of some are worsening, and they seek to make money from the war. Volunteers can make $8,500 or more to sign up and over $2,000 monthly, at least double the average wage. But when they reach the frontline, the dream of riches — or at least financial security for their families — quickly evaporates.
It has become increasingly difficult to receive promised “frontline” benefits, payments for injuries have been cut, and the process for combat veterans proving their status is now much harder. But it is the bribes needed to stay alive that suck away most of the money earned in the combat zone.
Commanders in some units have introduced prices for “services” on which the life and health of their soldiers depend, and take the charges by withholding frontline payments, which can total more than 3m rubles ($38,000).
Viktor Svobodchikov, from Tyumen, Siberia, has been trying for a year to hold his commanders accountable, writing complaints to the Military Procurator’s office and the Investigative Committee. He says they extorted 1 million rubles from him for the chance to go on leave, and a separate fee was charged to avoid dangerous missions.
Those who refuse to pay are beaten or told they will be taken to the front without a weapon, he said.
Svobodchikov’s chances of receiving justice are slim, because of the unspoken rule that complaints against front-line commanders are swept under the carpet. But his claims are backed by widespread evidence of rampant extortion at the front. Soldiers are forced to pay to escape “meatgrinder” assaults, for injury certificates and to work far from the front, the IStories website reported. Commanders also take money from soldiers through beatings and torture.
Another category of people making money from Russian troops are the so-called “black widows,” who marry soldiers they’ve met online or while on leave with the sole aim of receiving their death benefits. Commanders say that in the first year of the war widows begged for the retrieval of the body of their dead husband at any cost, but now they are more interested in the money. Verstka, an online news site, found 174 families fighting legal battles with each other and “unworthy heirs” over death payments, which can be up to $165,000.
Recruiters are also cashing in by luring people to the front by deception — for example, by telling them they will serve exclusively in construction battalions or as drivers or security guards far behind the front line. They attract people by posting on Avito, a popular Russian classified advertising website, or introducing themselves as employees of the Moscow administration or humanitarian organizations.
Many of the victims are naive provincials, who are given money for their journeys to Moscow and lured to the military registration and enlistment office, which then sends them directly to the front. The recruiters receive a payment for each recruit, and those arriving at the front against their will are often prepared to pay anything to escape the combat zone. There are reports of men being kidnapped from villages in Central Russia, sent to war, and their abductors gaining access to personal bank accounts and withdrawing military payments.
And those who manage to survive the meat grinder are finding it increasingly difficult to get compensation for wounds, and lie for months in hospital, trying to restore damaged limbs without access to promised payments or insurance. Turning to the Military Procurator doesn’t help, as military units and hospitals often refuse to confirm that a person served or was treated there.
Maksim Ivanov, a State Duma deputy from the Sverdlovsk region, wrote about an intelligence officer from Yekaterinburg who not only missed out on compensation for his wounds, but has not received his salary since November. It was a similar story in Tyumen, where payments were refused to 15 families of participants in the war.
Alongside the individual losses, the refusal to pay has a broader significance for recruitment, as even pro-Kremlin sources admit the main motive for signing up is financial. As rumors of the corruption and failure to receive payments reach the provinces, the number of people willing to try their luck at the front will fall.
In the Russian hinterlands, there is practically no access to independent media, but it is impossible to smother rumors spread by those returning from the war or their relatives. And the problem for the state is compounded by the aura created in propaganda about war veterans, which gives their words special weight.
This does not mean ordinary Russians will begin to protest the war, but as they become more aware of its corrupt and cynical essence, they are less likely to consider it “just” or a “people’s war,” and will be increasingly reluctant to fight.
Kseniya Kirillova is an analyst focused on Russian society, mentality, propaganda, and foreign policy. The author of numerous articles for CEPA and the Jamestown Foundation, she has also written for the Atlantic Council, Stratfor, and others.