In the late 1970s, the Soviet Union launched a decade-long war in Afghanistan that would cost it 15,000 lives and contribute to its eventual implosion. Nearly half-a-century later, Russian President Vladimir Putin launched his own war, against Ukraine, and this one has cost his side at least 250,000 lives in the three years since the full-scale invasion began.
At this rate, if Putin’s invasion lasts as long as former Soviet leader Leonid Brezhnev’s Soviet-Afghan War, Russian casualties will be over 55 times greater — and Russia’s population today is just over half that of the Soviet Union.
Meanwhile, with 45 countries across three continents maintaining sanctions against Russia, the consequences have not been confined to Russia and Ukraine.
We know that within Russia, the war has brought something resembling a 1930s-style fascist regime, although the Kremlin is relying on financial inducements, not just conscription, to feed the meat grinder. In the Samara region, the signing bonus for anyone who agrees to fight in January reached a record of about the equivalent of US$40,000.
Obviously, such a large payments for military service to fight in Ukraine reflect growing reluctance on the part of would-be soldiers. While former Russian president Dmitry Medvedev reports that 175,000 men have signed up for the army in the first five months of this year, Mediazona estimates that 51,000 Russians died on the battlefield just in the second half of last year. Perhaps Putin will still be able to recruit more than 30,000 per month, or perhaps not. In Samara, the bonus hike was reminiscent of how some gyms market memberships: the best perks were valid only for those who signed up by Feb. 1.
Presumably, Putin has offered to reward regional governors for high recruitment figures, but if regional administrations are raising signing bonuses only to cut them soon thereafter, one can infer that the costs are becoming unsustainable. Since June 5, the bonus for “volunteers” in Bashkortostan, between the Volga River and the Ural Mountains, has been reduced to US$12,700 from US$20,400; in the Belgorod Oblast near Ukraine, it was cut to US$10,200 from US$38,200 in January (after a three-month “promotion”). Throughout Russia, flat-rate federal signing bonuses for prison inmates were canceled in January.
The need to increase payments reflects Russians’ growing recognition of the odds of dying in Ukraine. In provincial areas such as Kurgan, where the Urals and Siberia meet, cemeteries are being expanded. Nationwide, the “exit” bonus for dead soldiers’ families has nearly doubled to US$176,000 from US$95,000.
Again, the recent cuts in signing bonuses suggest that the system is under financial pressure. After all, Russia has been selling oil, its main revenue source, for roughly US$50 per barrel, or 25 percent, below the price originally estimated in its budget for this year.
Still, Putin will likely avoid another mobilization of conscripts. When he tried that in September 2022, public support for his “special military operation” seemed to take a hit. He also undoubtedly remembers the Soviet misadventure in Afghanistan. The reason those 15,000 fallen soldiers mattered so much politically was that most of them had never chosen to fight. Moreover, they were drafted not only from the Soviet periphery, but also from Moscow and St Petersburg, where the losses affected cultural elites, undermining the system’s credibility.
To avoid repeating these mistakes, Putin has relied on more subtle forms of coercion. For example, last month, Yakutia, in the Russian far east, reportedly held a “Change Your Life” day to recruit local homeless men for the front lines. The courts are also playing a role.
“I have followed hundreds of interviews with prisoners of war, obituaries, stories of soldiers among my acquaintances and family,” the exiled dissident Maria Vyushkova told me. “In recent weeks, I have come across three similar cases: men who ended up on trial for minor offenses and were pushed by judges to join the army under the threat of heavy sentences.”
One of them, a 45-year-old from Ulan-Ude, south of Lake Baikal, was on trial last year for causing a traffic accident; the court offered to convert his sentence into a contract as a truck driver in Ukraine’s Russian-occupied Donbas region. He eventually ended up as a Ukrainian prisoner of war.
Russia has long used similar tricks to lure Kazakh or Nepalese migrants to the front lines, but now it is Russians who are being targeted. Job vacancies for “drivers,” “security guards” and “construction workers” in active combat zones have been cropping up everywhere — an obvious ruse to hide the war’s brutal reality.
Meanwhile, the average age of new recruits is rising, with men over 60 joining those on the front line. Even authorized media report cases of wounded soldiers being savagely beaten if they refuse to return to the front before fully recovering. In May, Russian soldiers on Telegram reported that their commander had sent men on crutches into battle. Earlier in the war, Russia’s wounded at least got time to recover; no longer. With 23,000 armored vehicles lost, mules are now being used to transport materiel.
Despite the cracks that are beginning to show, Putin seems no closer to accepting a truce. On the contrary, his aggression is becoming even more indiscriminate and violent. Most likely, he simply does not get it. Bad news does not necessarily reach him, as subordinates protect themselves by withholding it.
Ironically, Russia’s military problems confirm the Kremlin’s total identification with war. Russia has been at war for 19 of Putin’s 21 years as president. Bent on revising the European order that emerged after the Soviet Union’s collapse, Putin has created a regime that is willing to make choices that appear senseless to democratic societies. His war of attrition is therefore bound to continue.
With US support for Ukraine dwindling, Europe needs to do more to widen the cracks in the foundation of Putin’s praetorian regime.
