How Putin keeps Russia’s battle-hardened veterans on his side

Summary
A growing crop of Russian soldiers have been tapped to fill a wave of government positions after serving in Ukraine, raising the prestige of military service and encouraging more people to enlist.Maj. Amyr Argamakov has commanded a military unit in Chechnya, served in Syria, overseen a battalion in Ukraine, and taken part in three World War II Victory Day parades in Moscow’s Red Square.
Now he has been thrust into a career in Russian politics.
The 30-year-old veteran is part of a growing crop of Russian soldiers who have been tapped to fill a wave of government positions after serving in Ukraine. Russian President Vladimir Putin describes them as a battle-hardened cohort who “will not back down, will not deceive, and will not betray," while his deputies enlist them to lend a veneer of valor to their own political careers.
The veterans’ faces adorn billboards that line city thoroughfares. They are invited to give lectures at schools, some of which have been renamed in their honor. TV hosts extol their exploits on the front lines, ushering them into television studios to rapturous applause.
“Man is made not for peace, but for war," state TV anchor Vladimir Solovyov said on one such show last year, echoing a sentiment that has gained mainstream appeal despite the deaths of hundreds of thousands of Russians in Ukraine.
The war has transformed the perception of military service in Russia, which was long considered a refuge for the uneducated, unskilled and otherwise unemployable. Serving in the army now provides such a social lift that Russian celebrities travel to occupied parts of Ukraine to post photographs of themselves as evidence that they are helping the war effort, or to mend reputations tarnished by public scandal.
This elevation of Russia’s veterans aims to raise the prestige of military service and encourage more people to enlist. It also reflects Putin’s desire to head off any trouble from returning servicemen, many of whom might be traumatized by their experiences at the front. Some who have fought in Ukraine have committed violent crimes upon their return home.
“Veterans are a thorn in the side for any authorities, even if you have a victorious war," said Russian political analyst Ekaterina Schulmann. “But especially if you don’t."
For Argamakov—a member of the indigenous Altai ethnic group who grew up in a tiny, remote Siberian village on Russia’s borders with China, Mongolia and Kazakhstan—the route to national prominence began in the North Caucasus region, where he started his military service in 2013. He later served in Syria as part of Russia’s military intervention to shore up the regime of Bashar al-Assad in 2018.
Last year, after commanding a combined arms battalion in Ukraine, he was awarded the Hero of Russia medal, the country’s highest military award. In a speech after his return home, he insisted he’s “just a normal guy."
When a close Putin ally became governor of Argamakov’s native Altai region, he took Argamakov under his wing and appointed him senator for the republic. Argamakov replaced his military fatigues with a navy-colored suit, and became a regular at parliamentary sessions in Moscow, stumbling through speeches about patriotism and service to the Motherland.
“Politics was never my goal," Argamakov said shortly after his appointment. “But I have a sense that I must be of use to my nation."
Other veterans have been inducted into a Kremlin-managed program known as “Time of Heroes" which is designed as an explicit attempt to fast-track serving soldiers and Ukraine war veterans into government positions.
“Those who filled their pockets at the expense of our economy in the 1990s are definitely not the elite," Putin said at its launch, railing against oligarchs who snapped up key enterprises in the post-Soviet years and whose names are now a byword for corruption. “The real, genuine elite are all those who serve Russia."
A first batch of 83 soldiers was enrolled on a master’s degree in management and then on internships at government agencies. At its conclusion, they were handed jobs in local and national government.
One graduate, a former commander in east Ukraine, now serves as a presidential envoy for Putin. Another is the governor of the Tambov region south of Moscow. A third was appointed this week as labor minister in a southern Russian region, despite being accused by Kyiv of war crimes in Ukraine.
“Time of Heroes" participants are paraded on state TV and lauded at banquet dinners. The head of the Russian Orthodox Church, Patriarch Kirill, told them in November: “We understand the importance of what you do."
The selection process is vigorously vetted. Only those with a higher education are chosen and any hint of disagreement with Putin’s leadership is snuffed out, contrasting sharply with purges in the military that followed a rebellion led by paramilitary founder Yevgeny Prigozhin, who later died in a plane crash.
Analysts say Putin has learned lessons from Russia’s past.
The political risk posed by returning veterans was such that after World War II, Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin decided to keep many of them abroad. He extended mobilization orders for years to prevent millions from coming home. And for almost a decade, celebrations of the Soviet victory over Hitler’s forces were banned, in a bid to prevent veterans from amassing a following or forging close bonds.
In the 1980s and early 1990s, returning veterans of the Soviet war in Afghanistan were often treated as second-class citizens. There was almost no psychological support and widespread stigma about the wounded, a trend that is showing few signs of improvement today. Some veterans ended up organizing into political factions that sought to challenge Soviet rule, and accelerated its collapse.
“When soldiers start coming back, they will be earning less money and will receive none of the respect they expected from society. More likely they will be feared and distrusted by their neighbors," said Schulmann, the political scientist. “To pre-emptively lessen that tension, the authorities need to create the impression that many positive things are happening."
Crucially, Putin appears to be trying to ensure that the latest crop of returning soldiers will remain loyal to the Kremlin, and prevent them from becoming a political force down the road.
Argamakov might be a good example. Despite his stratospheric rise, he has had little real influence on politics so far. But it is men like him, who come from humble beginnings and lack the charisma of the likes of Prigozhin, who are the main beneficiaries of the new mood in the country—chiefly because they openly support Putin and his moves to put Russia’s economy on a war footing.
Indeed, Argamakov said his goals as senator are modest. He wants to help soldiers on the front line and improve the lives of people back in Altai, much of whose population still live below the poverty line.
Last year, he visited his hometown school and praised his old teachers in an address to pupils. Not long after, a banner with his face was draped over the building’s facade. Large red letters spelled out the words: “Our Compatriot."
Write to Matthew Luxmoore at matthew.luxmoore@wsj.com