OP-ED: 80% of Russians Expect a Crisis — Putin Won the War but Lost His Country

Maxime Marquette

2026-07-01 16:26:06

A war economy that drains civilian resources

Russia has redirected a growing portion of its economy toward military production. Factories have been repurposed, workers mobilized for the defense industries, and government budgets massively redirected toward military spending—according to some estimates, Russia will devote more than 35% of its federal budget to defense and security in 2026. This mobilization keeps macroeconomic statistics afloat—Russia’s GDP shows nominal growth fueled by military spending. But this growth is an illusion: it does not produce goods that improve the standard of living for Russian citizens.

The result is wartime stagflation: an economy that appears to be growing according to official indicators, but where citizens see their real purchasing power decline, public services deteriorate, and long-term economic prospects dim. This is precisely the reality described by the 66% of Russians who report facing financial hardship in their daily lives.

Mobilized or Departed Workers

The partial mobilization of September 2022 and the ongoing enlistment of new soldiers have removed hundreds of thousands of active workers from the civilian economy—mostly men of working age, often from skilled sectors. At the same time, the mass emigration of skilled Russians—estimated at more than 500,000 to 1 million people since 2022, including a disproportionate number of engineers, technology developers, and independent professionals—has created a shortage of skilled labor in the civilian sectors of the economy.

This dual pressure—mobilization to the front lines and emigration abroad—is creating tensions in a labor market that, paradoxically, has very low unemployment (because many jobs are no longer being filled) but declining productivity and deteriorating services. For civilian companies trying to operate normally, the shortage of skilled personnel is a growing constraint that weighs on their competitiveness and their ability to maintain operations.

Russia has lost perhaps a million of its best and brightest since 2022. These people will likely never return. This is a demographic and intellectual drain that decades of Russian public education have paid for, and that Putin has squandered in a matter of months. It is a long-term national catastrophe that is not yet reflected in current statistics.

Fuel Shortages: When War Comes Home

Putin’s Admission on June 28

On June 28, 2026, during the United Russia party congress, Vladimir Putin did something unusual for an autocratic leader whose public statements are meticulously controlled: he acknowledged that Ukrainian strikes on Russian refining infrastructure were causing fuel shortages in certain regions. This admission, however partial and downplayed it may be in its wording, is a telling sign. The shortages are sufficiently visible and widespread that denying them would be too blatantly ridiculous. Putin prefers to acknowledge them by attributing them to Ukrainian strikes—turning the problem into an argument to bolster war nationalism.

For Russian citizens, these fuel shortages have tangible effects: lines at gas stations in certain regions, purchase limits, and rising prices. In a country where the automobile is a symbol of modernity and individual freedom, fuel shortages carry particular political and psychological weight. They are a very tangible and deeply personal manifestation of the war’s consequences—one that propaganda cannot entirely neutralize.

The Impact on Russian Military Capabilities

Beyond the civilian impact, fuel shortages caused by Ukrainian strikes are affecting Russian military operations. A modern army consumes enormous amounts of fuel—tanks, armored vehicles, transport aircraft, generators, and missile systems. Disruptions in fuel supplies create bottlenecks in the military supply chain, leading to operational restrictions: units forced to ration their mobility, reduced air missions due to a lack of jet fuel, and delays in resupplying forward positions—all of which allow Ukrainian defenses to strengthen.

This vulnerability—relatively concentrated refining infrastructure, far from the front lines but increasingly within range of Ukrainian drones—is one of the most attractive strategic targets for Ukraine. Every refinery damaged or destroyed represents a reduction in Russian production capacity, which, after a few weeks, translates into operational constraints on the front lines. This is economic warfare and a strategy of industrial attrition being applied with increasing precision.

Putin acknowledges fuel shortages in a country that, ten years ago, was one of the world’s largest oil producers. The irony is almost too much to bear. Ukrainian strikes on refineries may be the most effective strategic weapon—not because they immediately end the war, but because they bring the war into the daily lives of ordinary Russians. That is where wars truly end.

Propaganda Versus Economic Reality

When Talk of Glory Clashes with Grocery Prices

Russian war propaganda has been remarkably effective in maintaining formal support for the military effort. Surveys by the Levada Center—one of the few independent polling organizations still active in Russia—show high approval ratings for the “special military operation” and for Putin himself. But these same surveys reveal that support for the war and confidence in the economy are two distinct issues: one can approve of the war while still worrying about its personal economic consequences.

It is precisely this decoupling that the figures of 80% and 66% reflect: propaganda has succeeded in dissociating the war from its causes in the minds of part of the population, but it cannot erase the reality of wages that are not rising as fast as prices, of shortages that are multiplying, and of economic prospects that are darkening. This tension—between the official narrative of victory and the lived reality of economic decline—is the Putin regime’s greatest long-term political vulnerability.

The Regions vs. Moscow: A Growing Social Divide

The economic effects of the war are not distributed evenly across Russia. Moscow and St. Petersburg are relatively shielded by their economic clout and access to resources. The outlying regions—the very same ones that provide a disproportionate share of soldiers—bear a heavier economic burden, benefiting less from war bonuses and suffering more from shortages and inflation. This geographic divide between the major cities and the outlying regions is a source of social tension that is only intensifying as the conflict drags on.

Evidence is emerging—from journalistic investigations and Russian civil rights organizations in exile—of local protests against military casualties, of organizations of soldiers’ families demanding accountability, and of mayors of small towns who sometimes dare to voice doubts. These expressions remain very marginal and are severely repressed. But their existence, even on a small scale, shows that the total resignation the regime seeks to maintain is far from complete.

The rift between Moscow and Russia’s outlying regions over the cost of the war—that is the seed of something. I am not predicting a Russian revolution. But I know that authoritarian regimes do not fall when the major cities are content and the outlying regions bear the burden. They fall when even the major cities begin to have doubts. We are not there yet. But we are heading in that direction.

What Military Ethics Says About Russia

Soldiers Who Know Something Is Wrong

Beyond the civilian population, the morale of Russian soldiers is also under strain. Testimonies from captured soldiers, intercepted messages, and posts on Russian social media (before they were deleted) document growing fatigue, frustration over heavy casualties, and veiled criticism of military leadership. This does not mean that the Russian army is on the verge of collapse—the mechanisms of control and fear are too strong for that. But it does indicate that the ideological motivation of many soldiers is lower than propaganda claims.

According to Al Jazeera (June 25, 2026 article), the “horrors of war are returning to Russia” as bodies are brought home, the wounded return, and families share their grief despite censorship. This return to reality—which propaganda seeks to stem but cannot fully contain—fuels economic discontent, creating an overall situation that is increasingly difficult for the regime to manage.

Veterans as a Social Problem

Veterans of the war in Ukraine returning to Russia—wounded, traumatized, and sometimes profoundly changed by their combat experiences—represent a growing social challenge. Studies of previous conflicts (Afghanistan, Chechnya) show that unsupported veterans can become sources of domestic violence, crime, and social instability. Problems related to PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder), substance abuse, and difficulties with reintegration are real and well-documented even in countries with robust support systems for veterans. Russia, whose social welfare system is inadequate even in peacetime, is ill-equipped to handle this wave.

Russian authorities have promised bonuses and benefits to veterans. In practice, these promises are often only partially fulfilled, as local bureaucracies are overwhelmed and sometimes corrupt. Veterans’ disappointment over unfulfilled promises is an additional factor in social discontent that is contributing, slowly but surely, to the overall picture of a Russian society weakened by a war that the majority did not choose.

Veterans of the war in Ukraine are returning to Russia—wounded in body and soul—to a society that sent them to die but doesn’t really know what to do with them upon their return. This is a social cost that Russia will pay for decades to come. A cost that Putin will never mention in his speeches, but that Russian families will indeed pay.

The Afghan Parallel: When War Topples Regimes

Afghanistan as a Painful Mirror

Soviet history offers a troubling precedent. The war in Afghanistan (1979–1989) contributed significantly to the weakening of the Soviet system—not by defeating the USSR militarily, but by creating a combination of human casualties, economic costs, social demoralization, and a loss of the regime’s credibility that fueled the conditions leading to its dissolution. Gorbachev himself acknowledged that Afghanistan was “a bleeding wound” that had drained the Soviet system.

Is the war in Ukraine Putin’s Afghanistan? The comparison has its limits—Russia in 2026 is not the USSR of 1985, the geopolitical context is different, and Russia’s war mobilization has created distinct economic dynamics. But the parallels are striking: an underestimated war that is lasting far longer than expected, high human casualties hidden from the public, an economy distorted by the war effort, and social fatigue building beneath the surface of triumphalist official propaganda.

Can Putin hold on indefinitely?

The fundamental question raised by the figures of 80% and 66% is that of the political sustainability of the Putin regime in the face of worsening economic conditions. The resilience of authoritarian regimes in the face of economic crises is well documented—they can maintain control well beyond the point at which a democracy would have collapsed. But they also have their limits. The combination of fuel shortages, persistent inflation, massive military losses, and bleak economic prospects is creating a build-up of discontent that is gradually eroding the very legitimacy of a regime that does not depend on elections to survive.

I am not predicting the imminent collapse of the Putin regime—that would be reckless and likely wrong. But I observe that the conditions for future instability are taking shape, slowly and silently, behind the facade of military parades and nationalist rhetoric. The question is not whether these tensions exist—the 80% and 66% figures confirm it. The question is when they will reach a critical threshold. And no one, not even the best Western intelligence analysts, can answer that question with certainty.

I want to be honest: I don’t know when or how the Putin regime will end. What I do know is that 80% of Russians who anticipate an economic crisis represent real social pressure. Authoritarian regimes can ignore polls. They cannot ignore the lines at gas stations and the empty shelves in supermarkets.

The Impact on Russian Foreign Policy

When Internal Challenges Alter External Calculations

Domestic economic deterioration is not without impact on Russia’s foreign policy choices. Regimes facing growing economic pressures tend to adopt foreign policy stances designed to divert domestic attention—escalating nationalist rhetoric, provoking external crises, and manipulating the media to create external enemies. These dynamics are already at work in Russia, but they may intensify if economic difficulties worsen.

At the same time, economic constraints may lead to different negotiating calculations. If the economic and human cost of the war for Russia reaches a level that even the regime can no longer sustain indefinitely, pressure for a diplomatic compromise may increase—not out of goodwill, but out of necessity. This is one of the lines of reasoning relied upon by proponents of a policy of strengthened sanctions: that cumulative economic pressure will eventually alter Moscow’s calculations.

Growing Dependence on China

Against this backdrop of Western economic isolation, Russia has deepened its economic dependence on China. Chinese imports are gradually replacing sanctioned Western goods, Chinese banks are facilitating (cautiously, to avoid secondary sanctions) Russian financial transactions, and China has become Russia’s leading trading partner. This dependence is strategically dangerous for Moscow: it transforms Russia into a peripheral economy of the Chinese power, on terms that Beijing can dictate with increasing unilateralism.

For the West, this dynamic is ambivalent. Russia’s dependence on China strengthens the ties between two revisionist powers—which is undesirable. But it also creates tensions between Moscow and Beijing over economic terms, and places Russia in a relationship of dependence that is gradually eroding its strategic autonomy. The big unknown is whether China will ever use this leverage—and in which direction.

Russia, which proclaims itself a great power, is becoming China’s economic periphery. This is perhaps the greatest geopolitical irony of this war: in seeking to restore Russian greatness, Putin has created the conditions for Russia’s gradual subjugation by Beijing. It is a tragedy for the Russian people, who deserve better than these choices imposed by a single man.

Social Sanctions: When Russian Families Start to Take Notice

Mothers Who Question the War

In Putin’s Russia, the Soldiers’ Mothers movement—which played a significant role in criticizing the wars in Afghanistan and Chechnya—has been largely neutralized through repression and co-optation. Official pro-regime organizations have been created to occupy the space and channel families’ grief in politically acceptable directions. But the reality of massive losses—more than 1.4 million according to Ukrainian data—creates pressure that even the best social control organization cannot fully absorb.

Posts on Russian social media—which are quickly deleted—document families who dare to ask: Where is my son? Why isn’t there an official coffin? Why hasn’t the promised pension been paid? These individual questions do not yet constitute a protest movement. But they reveal cracks in the facade of national unanimity that the regime seeks to maintain. And in the regions where casualties are most concentrated, these questions are beginning to be asked in voices that are only slightly less hushed.

Corruption as a Catalyst for Discontent

Corruption further exacerbates the situation. Military equipment sold by corrupt officers, enlistment bonuses embezzled by middlemen, war pensions delayed by incompetent or dishonest local bureaucracies—these practices, documented by Russian investigative journalists in exile, create additional discontent specifically linked to the war. Families who have lost a loved one only to discover that the promised 10 million rubles in compensation has not been paid or has been partially embezzled now view the regime differently than they did before the war.

This war-related corruption is a systemic problem that the Kremlin partially acknowledges—it occasionally convicts officers or local officials for corruption linked to military contracts, in a move that serves as much to signal strictness as to actually eliminate the problem. But corruption in Russia’s defense systems is too deeply entrenched to be eradicated by high-profile trials. It continues to drain resources and erode trust in the regime among those who bear the direct consequences.

Russian families waiting for pensions that never come, mothers seeking answers about the deaths of their sons—it is these Russians who break my heart. Not the Kremlin ideologues, not the officers who steal from their soldiers. Ordinary people caught up in a machine they didn’t build—and that is crushing them. Their suffering is real, even as I unequivocally support Ukraine’s right to defend itself.

Conclusion: The Domestic Cost of a Foreign War

What 80% and 66% Mean for the Future

These two figures—80% anticipating an economic crisis, 66% facing hardship—are a snapshot of a Russian society undergoing change under the combined pressure of war, sanctions, and the human cost of a conflict that seems to have no end. This change is slow, profound, and difficult to measure in polls, which remain partially constrained by fear of reprisals. But it is real. And it represents mounting pressure on a regime that has based its legitimacy on the promise of economic stability and the restoration of national greatness.

This pressure won’t end the war tomorrow. But it is creating the conditions for Russian social exhaustion, which—combined with Ukrainian resistance and Western sanctions—is part of the long-term strategy of attrition. It is not a glorious strategy. It is not a quick strategy. But it may be the only one that works against a regime that has decided to ignore the human costs of its own choices.

Russia Is Paying the Price for Putin’s Choice

Ultimately, this post is a simple observation: the Russian people are paying the price for the decisions of a man they did not truly elect and whom they cannot replace through normal democratic channels. This injustice is real. It does not alter the need to support Ukraine in the face of aggression—the Ukrainian victims are still far more numerous, and their suffering far more direct. But it serves as a reminder that in this war, the first victims of Putin’s regime are also, in a sense, ordinary Russians who are bearing the brunt of its consequences.

Eighty percent of Russians are waiting for the crisis. I, too, am waiting for it—not with glee, but with the awareness that this crisis is the price of a decision that a single man has imposed on two peoples. The day that price becomes too high for the regime may mark the beginning of a possible peace. In the meantime, Ukraine is fighting. And we must stand by its side.

Signed, Maxime Marquette, columnist