The Russian war in Ukraine, the most devastating military engagement in Europe since 1945, has persisted for three years, and the prospect of its resolution — with the Trump administration opening talks with Russia — has not generated widespread optimism.
In a recent interview with the Financial Times, Polish President Andrzej Duda warned that the war’s conclusion, if and when it comes, could unleash a wave of organized crime flooding into Poland and then spreading across Europe and even into the U.S. His concerns echo a sentiment long whispered in Western political circles. He compared the situation to the 1990s in Russia, when the return of veterans from the Soviet-Afghanistan war fueled violence across the former USSR.
Ukraine’s Foreign Ministry pushed back, calling his remarks unfair: “Ukrainian soldiers and veterans are not a threat but a factor of security for Ukraine, Poland and all of Europe.”
Duda’s comparison, however, may understate the dangers ahead. The Soviet war in Afghanistan lasted a decade but didn’t produce the level of social upheaval that Russia’s invasion has inflicted on Ukraine. The country’s military now numbers 980,000, according to President Volodymyr Zelensky, and hundreds of thousands of battle-hardened and battle-scarred soldiers will return to civilian life — many with missing limbs, many more with deep psychological wounds — and all to a country in ruins. Where will they go? What will they do?
Ukraine has already experienced the downstream effects of post-war mental health problems. In April 2018, when Russia’s aggression wasn’t called a war but a “terrorist” action in the Donbas, data revealed that more than 1,000 Ukraine veterans of those less-intense battles had committed suicide.
Now the Ukrainian Health Ministry estimates that nearly 15 million people — in a population of less than 40 million — will require psychological support due to the war.
Yet the nation’s shattered economy — its public debt reached $166.1 billion in December — raises serious doubts about its ability to fund essential services, including mental health programs. Last year, amid much fanfare, Ukraine legalized medical cannabis in part to help troops and civilians suffering from PTSD and other war-related mental illnesses. But medical marijuana is little more than a Band-Aid on a bullet wound for a military in which, according to one study, there is just one psychologist for every 400-500 service members.
Before the war, there were an estimated 4 million firearms in Ukraine, most of them unregistered, and an untold number circulating on the black market. After the invasion, gun ownership laws were liberalized and Zelensky promised that the government would give a weapon to anyone who wanted to defend the country. In the Kyiv area alone, 18,000 rifles were distributed to civilians, and homefront militias were encouraged. When thousands of active duty troops are demobilized, military-grade weapons may add to the increase in armed civilians and the risks of higher crime rates.
Despite the powderkeg potential, the Ukrainian government seems more focused on political maneuvering — both in domestic power struggles and international diplomacy — than on preparing for the war’s aftermath. Officials frequently make statements about global politics and security alliances, yet meaningful efforts to address veterans’ reintegration and welfare remain conspicuously lacking.
A peace agreement perceived as a capitulation could further erode national morale that is already at a low point, with falling troop levels and Russia’s recent front-line gains in the fighting. History shows that in such moments often public disillusionment grows, weakening confidence in leadership. During these periods, extreme factions may emerge, stoking unrest and pending a fragile order.
When Russia launched its full-on invasion in February 2022, Ukrainians united under symbols that had previously divided them. The slogan Slava Ukraini! (Glory to Ukraine), once associated with ultra-right-wing nationalist movements during World War II, was embraced nationwide, even in regions where nationalism had been controversial.
But in 2025, extreme nationalist fervor has waned. This could be a temporary lull before another eruption of unrest, provoked by post-war trauma, hardship and disillusionment. That, combined with an armed population and a generation of young men forged in war could threaten Ukraine as much as Russian aggression has.
It seems certain that once the war ends, Ukraine will face a new battle — internal strife. Vladimir Putin is undoubtedly factoring this into any peace deal. What he failed to achieve through his “special military operation,” he may attempt to achieve from within.
Ukraine will need significant Western support to navigate these challenges. Financial aid, infrastructure development and comprehensive mental health services will be crucial to reintegrate veterans and maintain stability.
Yet support for Ukraine “until it wins” has been waning in Western Europe and in America. A recent Guardian poll highlights a sharp decline in enthusiasm, coinciding with increasing doubts about U.S. foreign and military aid. Whether allies will step up to prevent a post-war collapse in Ukraine — or let it unravel from within — remains an open question.
Peace may come, but there is a real concern that the war’s aftermath could be almost as destabilizing for Ukraine as its beginning.
Sergey Maidukov, author of “Life on the Run: One Family’s Search for Peace in War-torn Ukraine” among other books, is based in Kyiv.
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