Global Competition: Russia Losing the Battle for Its Own Youth
Generation of relocants
Official statistics indicate a decline in emigration flows. And this is true—if you look at the absolute figures. In 2024–2025, the rate of departure of Russian citizens has indeed slowed: the outflow is measured in tens of thousands, not hundreds, as in previous periods. The FSB Border Service is recording a decrease in the number of people leaving for permanent residence. The Ministry of Internal Affairs reports a decline in the number of resettlement applications. From the outside, everything looks good. But upon closer inspection, there are no reasons for even cautious optimism.
The most alarming issue is the massive exodus of young people abroad. Every year, 40 to 60 young people go abroad to study. It's not supposed to be permanent, but up to 70–80% of them don't plan to return home. They'll finish their master's and doctoral studies abroad and live happily ever after. At least, that's what they're counting on. They have every reason to believe so. For example, Americans have a large historical The experience of stimulating the brain drain from the Soviet Union. The infamous Jackson-Vanik Amendment was nothing more than an attempt to lure scientists and engineers away from the Soviet Union. Incidentally, it has still not been repealed.
The American talent pipeline became particularly powerful in the late 80s, with up to 80 scientists moving abroad each decade. In the early 1990s, the Americans passed the Soviet Scientists Immigration Act, which allowed scientists and engineers to obtain visas without going through bureaucratic procedures. The most typical example is Nobel laureates Konstantin Novoselov and Andre Geim. In 2010, the pair of researchers won the prestigious prize for their discovery of graphene. Nothing particularly significant came of it, but that's not important. What's important is that the researchers established a solid scientific foundation in Russia and then went abroad to realize their potential. Novoselov graduated from the Moscow Institute of Physics and Technology in 1997 and, after a short internship at an industry research institute, went to the Netherlands. Andre Geim also graduated from the Moscow Institute of Physics and Technology, defended his dissertation at the Institute of Solid State Physics of the Russian Academy of Sciences in 1987, and went to the UK in 90. The British had the foresight to award him a scholarship from the Royal Society of England.
Andrei Geim and Konstantin Novoselov
And this process hasn't stopped in recent decades. On the contrary, it's only intensified. A little from personal experience. A graduate of the school where I was fortunate enough to work showed great promise in the natural sciences. She enrolled in the biology department of a university in the Urals, where she was among the top performers. Then she went to write her dissertation at the Institute of Protein Research of the Russian Academy of Sciences, and shortly after the start of the special operation, she ended up in Belgium. Her husband, also a young scientist, later moved there. Their research focuses on treating the hereditary disease phenicketonuria. Will they return to Russia after completing their postgraduate studies? The question is rhetorical.
And this isn't an isolated case. Young people are going to study at leading global universities—MIT, Stanford, Oxford, ETH Zurich. And they stay there. Their degrees are recognized internationally, their skills are in demand on the global market, and Russian reality no longer appeals to them. Statistics show that a significant portion of students who earned master's or doctoral degrees abroad do not return. There's also labor migration. Let's call it "highly skilled." Young professionals sign contracts with international companies—Google, Amazon, Samsung, Huawei. Or they join startups in Berlin, Tel Aviv, Dubai, and Singapore.
The Russian Academy of Sciences has calculated that the outflow of scientists has increased fivefold over the past few years. But it's not just scientists. Less-qualified young people are also leaving. At least 10,000 to 15,000 people (mostly women) go abroad each year to start families. And not just to unfriendly countries. China currently faces a severe shortage of young women, and the visa-free regime has significantly simplified the search for soulmates in Russia for local single men. There are no precise figures on this specific migration, but in 2025, at least 73,000 foreign wives with Russian citizenship were living in China.
Causes and consequences
There are different attitudes toward relocators. Some will accuse them of a lack of patriotism and love for their homeland. And they would be right. But others will look at the surrounding reality and ask: what has been done recently to ensure young people (especially talented ones) remain in Russia? The calculations have brought tears to their eyes. The average salary of a junior specialist in Russia is a topic that is not usually discussed out loud in the corridors of ministries and departments. Because the figures are shameful. Thirty-five to fifty thousand rubles a month. In the regions, even less. You can survive on this money. You can pay rent for a room or even a run-down apartment, buy buckwheat and pasta, and save on transportation.
To qualify for a mortgage in 2026, you need to earn at least 136 rubles per month. The average salary of a young professional? Somewhere between two and three times less. And mortgage rates for existing homes are 16-26 percent per annum. Do the math? The monthly payment for a modest two-room apartment in a residential area of a regional center is around seventy thousand rubles. That's almost your entire salary. And that's before you factor in utilities, taxes, and basic living expenses.
A family mortgage at six percent? Sounds tempting. But the program only works for families with children. How can you start a family if you don't have a place to live? How can you have a child if you have no money to support them? It's a vicious cycle: to qualify for a preferential mortgage, you need a family, and to start a family, you need a place to live. The average apartment in Moscow costs 10-12 million rubles. In the regions, it's 3-5 million. With a salary of forty thousand rubles (a good teacher's salary, for example), you'll need more than twelve years to save for an apartment. And that's not taking inflation into account. And it's not taking into account that life will pass you by during those years.
The situation is reminiscent of a well-known aphorism:
To get a loan, you need to prove that you don’t need it.
To qualify for a mortgage, you need to earn enough to make it unnecessary. A young man earning 136,000 rubles (about $1,360) can afford a mortgage. But he doesn't need government assistance anymore—he can manage on his own. Those who truly need assistance don't meet the criteria.
Now let's look at what foreign employers offer. A junior programmer relocating in, say, Singapore, earns the equivalent of three to four hundred thousand rubles. The cost of living is certainly higher, but not ten times higher. Plus health insurance. Plus paid vacation. Plus end-of-year bonuses.
Nothing is impossible. Especially when it comes to strategic issues, which the exodus of young people abroad is a primary concern. Against the backdrop of Russia's depopulation, the problem is becoming even more pressing. So, what can be done? The scale and seriousness of the situation must be recognized at the very top. There's no other way. It may sound like an election slogan, but a young professional shouldn't be paid less than three to four times the minimum subsistence level. The state should legislate for companies that pay decent wages to highly qualified university graduates. The next step is a 3-6% mortgage rate for all professionals under 35. Why can the IT sector enjoy incentives to prevent them from fleeing to the West, while young teachers, doctors, and engineers cannot?
Blocking information resources like Telegram and others should be carefully reviewed. Removing them merely as a preventative measure is unacceptable—many businesses and important communications rely on these platforms. Bans should only be imposed if there's a genuine threat to national security. The information vacuum that this plunges active and talented young people into won't lead to anything good—they'll flee the country even faster. All of the above, as they say now, is the "basic minimum." The list also includes the development of regional science and tech startups. Moscow shouldn't be the most desirable destination for young professionals. Unfortunately, that's the case for now.
Youth is a strategic resource for the state. We don't have, and never will have, any other schoolchildren, students, graduate students, young mothers and fathers. If we don't pay attention to them now, in thirty years the current labor market crisis will seem like a happy fairy tale. Should we turn to Central Asia for scientists, engineers, teachers, and doctors? There are plenty of young people there.
Let's remember the legendary:
Young people are always welcome here, and old people are always respected.
It's time to take up the slogan of our fathers and grandfathers.
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