You Can Expel Them, But You Can’t Replace Them

What did Russia’s migration policy look like before the Crocus City Hall attack?

Russia’s migration policy is full of contradictions. On the one hand, the country’s demographic situation demands more workers, while its citizens are aging and dying in the war. On the other hand, the government insists on measures that curb migration into the country. Following the terrorist attack at Crocus City Hall, migrants became scapegoats. Security forces have carried out raids on dormitories and prayer houses, detaining foreigners who were then deported or pressured into military service. The authorities are now proposing new measures that would restrict migrants’ ability to live in Russia with their families. In this article, we look at how strict migration control coexists with Russia’s labor needs and how migrants’ lives have changed over the past year and a half. How has Russia’s migration policy evolved over the past few decades?

According to anthropologist Sergey Abashin, migration from Central Asia to Russian cities did exist during the Soviet era. “Quota workers” (limitchiki) and members of the “labor army” (trudarmiya) were brought in to work in the construction and industrial sectors, while other “planned” migrants were relocated for land development and the cultivation of agricultural land. In the early 2000s, the demographic situation in Central Asian countries was more favorable than the economic situation: the population was growing, and people were drawn to places where they could earn money and where the local population was shrinking. Under these conditions, regular labor migration from Central Asia to Russia began to take shape.

Following the invasion of Ukraine and the collapse of the Russian ruble in 2014, the number of labor migrants decreased, as documented by the Federal Migration Service and economic indicators. For instance, personal remittances, private transfers from migrants to other CIS countries, declined by over half in 2015. By that time, migration had become a stable part of people’s life cycles, not only a way to earn money. Aging male migrants were replaced by their grown sons, for whom migration had become a rite of passage. Men who had settled in Russia brought their wives and children. Divorced women could find partners more easily in Russia than in their countries of origin. However, people are still drawn to Russia by a broader culture of mobility, driven by more than just economic motives. At the same time, established routes can shift: migrants may reorient toward other countries or choose to return to, or remain in, their home countries. Even so, migration to Russia remains today a familiar path, where newcomers can rely on long-standing support networks both when leaving and upon arrival.

Between 2014 and 2015, control over migration policy intensified. A patent system was introduced, along with mandatory medical examinations and tests on migrants’ knowledge of the Russian language, history, and law. Penalties for violating migration regulations were tightened. The patent system requires migrants to pay every month to renew their work authorization, yet it provides no social protection to workers. Migrants have to deal with long queues and pay intermediaries to ensure their documents are processed on time. Police officers demand bribes and take advantage of the vulnerable, powerless position of foreigners when they find that a migrant’s documents or personal data do not match the data in their database.

The influx of displaced people from the Donetsk and Luhansk regions after the annexation of Crimea created a new pool of labor. The simplified citizenship procedures for Ukrainians and Belarusians, along with the so-called compatriot resettlement program, clearly reflect the idealized model of citizenship promoted in dominant migration discourse: Russian-speaking individuals who are visually indistinguishable from the local population and can easily be integrated into the labor market. The events in Crimea and Donbas also altered the political landscape. By that time, the nationalist opposition that called for stricter migration controls had been pushed out of the political arena. The ideological focus shifted from grassroots nationalism toward ultrapatriotism. The state absorbed, neutralized, and effectively monopolized nationalist rhetoric. “Protecting the Russian world” became the main slogan used to justify military aggression against Ukraine and to rally citizens against an internal enemy.

Since the abolition of the Federal Migration Service in 2016, official migration statistics have largely stopped being published. However, analysts construct models based on indirect data. According to a study conducted by the Higher School of Economics, from 2017 to 2023, the annual contribution of various types of newcomers — including daily commuters from the Moscow region, rotational shift workers, and international labor migrants — to the Moscow economy amounted to more than 20% of the gross regional product. According to the researchers’ estimates,  international migrants contribute the most to the capital’s economy in the construction sector (ranging from 15 to 33%), followed by trade (ranging from 6 to 12%), housing and communal services (ranging from 5 to 14%), electricity and water supply, agriculture, hotels, and the food service sector. These figures demonstrate that Moscow’s economy is highly vulnerable without an external inflow of labor, particularly in construction and services. 

Who Shapes Migration Policy?

Russia has developed an economic model in which certain industries rely on the large-scale use of cheap labor. Sectors such as construction, trade, logistics, services, and food service are where the presence of migrants is most visible. This makes them an easy target for hate rhetoric from the authorities and a convenient channel for redirecting social tension. This situation prompts right-wing ideologues to talk about replacing foreign labor with robots and pushes politicians to limit the industries in which migrants can work. By the end of 2024, more than half of Russia’s regions had restricted the sectors in which migrants could work. Krasnodar Krai has prohibited most occupations for migrants, with 99 types of activities prohibited. This is followed by Vologda Oblast, with 82 prohibited occupations, and the occupied Crimea. Officials in Vologda Oblast claim these restrictions will “stabilize the migration situation, ensure sanitary and epidemiological safety, and reduce the number of traffic accidents and extremist and terrorist crimes.” But behind the ostensible safety arguments lie other motives. For instance, Georgy Filimonov, the controversial governor of Vologda Oblast who is known for his efforts to restrict abortions and alcohol sales in the region, has used the ban on migrant labor in construction to settle scores with Alexey Mordashov, a businessman whose interests are tied to construction projects in the city of Cherepovets and who has criticized Filimonov.

In some regions, bans were introduced and then lifted because of local labor shortages. To accomplish this, regional governments simply need to refrain from issuing a new decree for the following year or to exclude certain key sectors from it. Thus, supposed safety concerns did not prevent the Vologda Oblast government from removing jobs in the military-industrial complex from the list of prohibited sectors.

According to researchers at DumaBingo, over the past four years, the State Duma has considered 73 anti-migrant bills. More than half of them — 38 bills — were taken up after the terrorist attack at Crocus City Hall.

Following the terrorist attack, the names of four of the six alleged attackers were made public, all of them originally from Tajikistan. The authorities did not stop at the demonstrative violence inflicted on the suspects. The police intensified their checks on migrants, and Bastrykin unsuccessfully proposed reinstating the death penalty. In the end, the president and the Investigative Committee blamed Ukraine for the Crocus City Hall attack. Politicians seized upon the surge of xenophobia, casting migrants as an internal threat. The Ministry of Internal Affairs, the agency most directly involved with migrants, put forward proposals to tighten legislation and control over them. Some of the proposed measures have already been implemented, including mandatory fingerprinting for foreigners (including children) and an expanded deportation regime.

State Duma deputies have embraced initiatives to strengthen control over foreign nationals, justifying the measures with arguments about national security. The proposals put forward vary in their degree of xenophobia. “The hospital cleaning staff are all Asian. They don’t hire Russians!” This line comes from the explanatory note to a bill introduced by the Communist Party. However, the most active proponent of migration restrictions is the Just Russia political party. Its leader, Sergey Mironov, believes that migrants should only work in Russia on a rotational basis, flying in and out. He blames foreigners rather than the lack of social infrastructure for the shortage of places in kindergartens and schools. Mironov envisions the ideal model of migration to Russia as: “There should be no families with migrants here. Come, work, get the money, and leave.”

Another supporter of harsh measures is Yaroslav Nilov, a deputy of the Liberal Democratic Party of Russia (LDPR). Nilov heads the State Duma Committee for Labor, Social Policy, and Veterans’ Affairs. He frequently complains about the “large number of labor migrants who are in the country illegally” and has proposed banning the children of migrants from attending Russian schools.

Researchers point out that the notion of “illegal migration” is essentially inapplicable in the Russian context, as the vast majority of foreigners formally register their entry into the country. Difficulties tend to arise later, during subsequent stages of documentation, such as residence registration and timely document renewal. The security apparatus also promotes a tougher migration policy because it allows them to report on their “successful” performance. Alexander Bastrykin, the head of the Investigative Committee, openly manipulates statistics, claiming high crime rates among migrants, even though crime rates among migrants consistently remain lower than among the general population.

Orthodox lobbyists are also strongly opposed to migrants. Billionaire Konstantin Malofeyev, owner of the Tsargrad TV channel, has proposed replacing migrants with robots: “A Russian robot painted in Gzhel is much better than a living, breathing migrant. It won’t rape or kill anyone, and it speaks Russian, so it doesn’t cause any problems.” Patriarch Kirill of Moscow has claimed that migration poses “serious threats to Russia's identity,” essentially ignoring the millions of the country’s indigenous Muslim citizens. He said, “Thanks to this identity, we were strong. Yes, we are a multiethnic people, but the Russian people have fundamentally determined the cultural and spiritual foundation of our multiethnic country.” The patriarch’s rhetoric further fuels xenophobia toward those in Russia who do not belong to the white Orthodox majority.

Migration policy involves many actors and interests. The state migration policy concept for 2026–2030, signed by Putin, reflects an attempt to balance xenophobia and the need to meet labor demands with foreign workers. The decree essentially stabilizes the status quo, which treats migrants as potential offenders and relies on targeted recruitment of workers, digitalization of control, and “strengthening of traditional Russian spiritual and moral values.” To achieve the latter goal, resettlement from countries that are said to “impose destructive neoliberal ideological attitudes” is encouraged.

What is the Current Migration Regime in Russia?

Although only 14 anti-migrant proposals have actually become law since 2021, the initiatives adopted by the State Duma have already significantly complicated the lives of foreign nationals in Russia. In 2025, a new provision of the law “On the Legal Status of Foreign Citizens in the Russian Federation” came into force, introducing a deportation regime and a “registry of monitored persons.” Police can now decide, without a court ruling, to expel a migrant from Russia. Security agencies add individuals to the “registry of monitored persons,” a database of people deemed to have violated the country’s stay rules. Inclusion in the database requires only a decision by the Interior Ministry or the Federal Security Service of the Russian Federation (FSB), and it is practically impossible to challenge this decision in court.

One can end up in the registry for administrative offenses, such as traffic violations. However, migrants more often find themselves in this database due to bureaucratic infringements, such as expired registrations or a lack of knowledge about the constantly changing regulations related to their stay. According to human rights defenders, migrants and their children are added to the registry arbitrarily and often without good reason.

Once a person is added to the database, they lose the ability to use banking services, travel around the country, purchase real estate, or get married. Their residence permits, work authorizations, patents, and visas are automatically canceled. If they remain in the country for more than 15 days after these documents are canceled, they face a deportation order and a ban on entering the country for several years. According to data from the Interior Ministry, the registry of monitored persons contained 770,000 migrants by September, one-third of whom were women and children.

“There are more and more police checks and raids,” says a staff member at a human rights project for migrants, describing the changes over the past two years. The comment was provided anonymously. “It’s challenging to find housing. Now migration registration and legal registration are the basis for all other documents — they are the main source of  administrative fines.”

Properly formalizing one’s stay in Russia does not always protect migrants from persecution. Even after having their documents certified at a Public Services Center, foreign nationals often find that the system does not allow them to remain in the country legally. There is a significant discrepancy between how the rules are supposed to work on paper and how things actually unfold in practice.

“This is demoralizing and leaves foreign citizens trying to legalize their documents completely at a loss. Even if the landlord has registered you properly, the police officer may still tell you that it’s not in the database. It’s unclear what to do in such a situation. They can fine you, and two administrative violations within three years mean a three-year entry ban. If you aren’t registered in the migration system at your place of stay, it becomes very difficult to move around, use public transportation, or go to work,” notes the human rights worker.

How Does Current Migration Policy Affect Integration?

Integration is a two-way street. It requires not only the efforts of migrants themselves but also the readiness of society to let newcomers take part in it. This means migrants must have access to education and other social benefits. However, the full inclusion of labor migrants in Russian society does not align with the current migration policy.

The word “integration” appears only once in the migration policy concept, in the context of “desirable” entrepreneurs and tourists who “do not intend to fully integrate into Russian society.” Thus, integration is framed as solely the migrant’s personal responsibility, and there are no plans to develop the necessary infrastructure for it in the next five years. By contrast, the migration policy concept emphasizes the need for additional measures targeting foreign nationals to reduce the “burden on social, medical, and other spheres.”

These measures are already in place. The authorities have introduced mandatory testing for the children of foreign nationals, and without it, they cannot enroll in Russian schools. Starting in 2025, fluency in Russian alone is no longer enough; children must also demonstrate an excellent command of the school curriculum. From third grade onward, they must write without a single mistake in order to pass — a skill that even many adult native speakers struggle with. A child’s right to education now depends on whether their parents’ migration status is properly documented, whether their landlord agrees to register the family at their address, and whether there are available places at the local school. In 2025, more than half of all applicants were not even admitted to sit the test, and only 12.6% of those who did take it passed. A retake is allowed only after three months. This means that children can be left without access to education for more than a year, since schools are reluctant to accept new students once the academic year has started. There are still no preparatory courses to help children learn the language and catch up with the curriculum. All of this sends a clear message: migrants are needed in Russia only as a labor force. Despite a rapidly aging population and mortality rates that exceed birth rates, taking them in with their families is not part of the authorities’ plans. In effect, this cuts off future full-fledged citizens who, with access to education, could contribute to the country’s development.

“Those who plan to stay try to bring their children with them. But now, they feel a lot of fear, not only for their children, but also because any mistake in filing documents for their children will count as an administrative violation for the parents. This makes the decision to live in Russia with one’s family much more complicated, on top of the school exams,” notes the human rights worker. “Mandatory biometric registration includes fingerprinting and is required for everyone over the age of six. Those who have not completed all the necessary documents end up in a gray zone. Currently, many parents are being fined simply because they didn’t know their children also had to be fingerprinted.” 

The law on mandatory testing and the increasingly burdensome bureaucratic procedures reflect the claims of right-wing politicians that migrants should be denied certain social rights, including the fundamental right to education. This rhetoric diverts attention from real political problems, such as declining living standards, corruption, underfunded social services, and people dying on the frontlines.

Paradoxically, the war and the subsequent exodus of thousands of people from Russia have only deepened the country’s need for migration, both to fill labor shortages and to sustain ongoing mobilization. In 2022, the authorities streamlined the citizenship application process for migrants willing to enlist in the army after signing a contract with the Ministry of Defense. This breaks with the usual approach of granting citizenship, which typically requires living in the country for years with proper documentation or having close Russian relatives. Russian authorities have also forcibly conscripted people from Central Asia who already hold Russian passports, pushing many of them to look for a new country to live in. 

Fear of migrants or of anyone perceived as “different” is a familiar trope that authorities can exploit during a legitimacy crisis. This fear fits neatly with patriotic and nationalist rhetoric, particularly in wartime. A neo-Nazi movement has reemerged and is gaining strength in the country. Its members are increasingly attacking people who look non-Slavic and taking part in raids alongside security forces. In this climate, many migrants are safer choosing other countries. At the same time, Russian authorities try to address labor shortages by recruiting workers from North Korea and various African countries.

Russia’s migration policy has entered a phase of sharply increased control and xenophobic rhetoric, yet the country still relies heavily on migrant labor. After the terrorist attack at Crocus, the repressive course intensified: raids, deportations, the “registry of monitored persons,” and restrictions on living with families. Over the 14 years since the patent system was introduced, labor migrants have contributed around 730 billion rubles to regional budgets. When discussing the so-called “burden,” far-right politicians ignore the benefits of migration and the shortcomings of the national labor market. In the long run, policies that push migrants out undermine the stability of the very system on which the state depends.

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