{"id":11951,"date":"2026-07-30T12:20:48","date_gmt":"2026-07-30T09:20:48","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/commons.com.ua\/?p=11951"},"modified":"2026-07-30T12:37:27","modified_gmt":"2026-07-30T09:37:27","slug":"maskulinnist-provyna-i-hromadianstvo","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/commons.com.ua\/en\/maskulinnist-provyna-i-hromadianstvo\/","title":{"rendered":"Masculinity, Guilt, and Citizenship: How Men of Conscription Age Make Sense of Leaving Ukraine"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

In early April 2025, Orest drove toward Ukraine\u2019s western border in an old, worn-out car1<\/a><\/sup>\u00a0Orest is a pseudonym. To protect the anonymity of research participants, all names and identifying information are changed or omitted throughout the article.<\/span>. For months, he had been battling an internal dilemma about whether he should stay in Ukraine or whether it was time to leave. The final decision was catalysed one day when he returned home from work and found TCK recruiters2<\/a><\/sup>\u00a0TCK, Territorial Recruitment Center.<\/span> waiting outside his apartment building: \u201cI saw them in the reflection of my car. And that was when I decided that I had to leave now before it was too late, and I would be caught and sent to the front.\u201d After packing a bag with belongings, he took off from southern Ukraine and managed to slip through the main road checkpoint by hiding his car between two lorries. By evening, he had reached a forest area where he parked the car and started a journey that gives connotation to a military drill.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Unprepared for the falling temperatures, he began running through the forest towards the Transnistrian border, only wearing a pair of thin sneakers. As he had been on the move for around six hours, he heard distant voices and realized that the border guards were closing in. Hiding in a ditch, he described how it had begun snowing and that the water in his bottle had frozen: \u201cAs I laid there, I had an inner struggle over when it was the right time to get up and run. I was so close to the border now, imagine being caught here! Then I just got up and ran.\u201d Sprinting through the final stretch, he climbed a barbed wire fence, before reaching a wide trench dug by the Ukrainian border guards to prevent men from doing what Orest was in the process of. By using branches as an improvised ladder, he finally managed to cross the trench. At that point, frost had hardened his wet coat, and he could no longer feel his feet. Yet, as he later told me, what he felt most intensely at that moment was not cold or fear, but relief: \u201cWhen I got to the other side of the trench, I understood that I had made it. I am now free.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I met Orest in Chi\u0219in\u0103u the morning after he crossed the border and fled into Moldova. He is among the growing number of men who actively seek to avoid military service, many of whom have fled abroad. Since 2023, I have been interviewing fighting-age Ukrainian men who fled Ukraine after Russia\u2019s full-scale invasion, examining their motivations, experiences, and social status after leaving. In Western media and policy debates, these men are often assumed to be driven by pacifism, war fatigue, or political dissent. Yet the stories I encountered in my research suggest something far less coherent. For many, the decision to flee emerged at the intersection of vulnerability and agency and was shaped by multiple emotions and experiences including fear, feelings of injustice, care responsibilities, moral reasoning, and personal circumstances. As men\u2019s lives and social roles have become increasingly defined by military participation following Russia\u2019s full-scale invasion, those who leave must navigate contested masculine identities shaped by the gendered expectations and civic responsibilities attached to male citizenship during warSee e.g., Sofie Rose (2024). Nation of Heroes: State Stigmatisation of Ukrainian Men who Flee the War. Critical Studies on Security<\/em>, (14)1: 112-132. https:\/\/doi.org\/10.1080\/21624887.2024.2398848<\/a>; Olena Strelnyk and Sarah D. Phillips (2025) Either fight or pay taxes\u2019: constructing citizenship in the context of Russia\u2019s war on Ukraine and its gender implications. Innovation: The European Journal of Social Science Research<\/em>, (38)1: 169-192. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

https:\/\/doi.org\/10.1080\/13511610.20<\/a>. In this article, I trace how men who fled abroad make sense of their decision, examining how they simultaneously resist and negotiate the gendered norms that structure moral expectations around men\u2019s wartime roles3<\/a><\/sup>\u00a0This research is funded by the Carlsberg Foundation, grant: CF24-2192 and the Independent Research Fund Denmark, grant: 3098-00003B.<\/span>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Researching military avoidance during war \u2013 a feminist standpoint<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

By 2026, more than one million men have fled Ukraine4<\/a><\/sup>\u00a0Eurostat, \u2018Temporary protection for persons fleeing Ukraine: monthly statistics\u2019, 5\u00a0Nov. 2025, https:\/\/ec.europa.eu\/eurostat\/statistics-explained\/index.php?title=Temporary_protection_for_persons_fleeing_Ukraine_-_monthly_statistics#Who_are_the_people_fleeing_Ukraine_and_receiving_temporary_protection.3F. (Unless otherwise noted at point of citation, all URLs cited in this article were accessible on 16\u00a0Oct. 2025.)<\/span>, and draft evasion has become a growing issue transforming the mobilization process into a contested and sensitive social question in Ukrainian society. According to the Ministry of Defence, an estimated 200,000 soldiers are registered as AWOL (absent without official leave), while more than two million are wanted for draft evasion. Despite these numbers, the majority of Ukrainians remain committed to the self-defence effort according to official surveys. By March 2026, 54% of respondents in a KIIS survey said they were prepared to endure the war for as long as needed and while this presents a decline from previous surveys the figure remains high for a nation experiencing more than four years of full-scale war. In many ways, the mobilization crisis therefore symbolizes one of the most profound paradoxes Ukraine faces in its existential fight against Russia\u2019s unprovoked aggression: sustaining the nation\u2019s freedom requires that some citizens give up their individual freedom and potentially their life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My research approaches this dilemma through the lived experiences of the men who chose not to perform this expected duty and instead fled the war5<\/a><\/sup>\u00a0Kyiv International institute of Sociology, \u201c\u0421\u043f\u0440\u0438\u0439\u043d\u044f\u0442\u0442\u044f \u043f\u0435\u0440\u0435\u043c\u043e\u0432\u0438\u043d, \u0441\u0442\u0430\u0432\u043b\u0435\u043d\u043d\u044f \u0434\u043e \u043f\u0440\u043e\u043f\u043e\u0437\u0438\u0446\u0456\u0457 \u043e\u0431\u043c\u0456\u043d\u0443 \u0414\u043e\u043d\u0435\u0446\u044c\u043a\u043e\u0457 \u043e\u0431\u043b\u0430\u0441\u0442\u0456 \u043d\u0430 \u0433\u0430\u0440\u0430\u043d\u0442\u0456\u0457 \u0431\u0435\u0437\u043f\u0435\u043a\u0438 \u0442\u0430 \u0441\u043a\u0456\u043b\u044c\u043a\u0438 \u0449\u0435 \u0433\u043e\u0442\u043e\u0432\u0456 \u0442\u0435\u0440\u043f\u0456\u0442\u0438 \u0432\u0456\u0439\u043d\u0443: \u0440\u0435\u0437\u0443\u043b\u044c\u0442\u0430\u0442\u0438 \u043e\u043f\u0438\u0442\u0443\u0432\u0430\u043d\u043d\u044f, \u043f\u0440\u043e\u0432\u0435\u0434\u0435\u043d\u043e\u0433\u043e 1-8 \u0431\u0435\u0440\u0435\u0437\u043d\u044f 2026 \u0440\u043e\u043a\u0443,\u201d\u00a0 https:\/\/kiis.com.ua\/?lang=ukr&cat=reports&id=1597&page=1<\/a>.<\/span>. Grounding the epistemic foundation in the perspectives of these men reflects a feminist standpoint approach, which takes seriously the everyday experiences of war for ordinary people and how these experiences tend to be shaped by gendered norms and expectations. Listening to the men who fled abroad without automatically reducing them to labels such as cowards, criminals, or victims allows for a more nuanced understanding of the social consequences of Russia\u2019s war for different groups of Ukrainians. An intersectional feminist perspective is particularly useful in this regard because it draws attention not only to the gendered realities of military service, but also to the classed dimensions of how mobilization is experienced and narrated by the men who resist it. Many of my research participants described mobilization as unevenly distributed along the lines of class, geography, and social connections, with poorer and less privileged men experiencing themselves as disproportionately exposed to forced mobilization and high-risk infantry roles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the same time, Ukraine\u2019s mobilization effort has become heavily weaponized within Russia\u2019s disinformation campaigns, where narratives of forced and classed conscription are strategically exploited, exaggerated and fabricated to produce polarization and undermine trust in the Ukrainian state and military6<\/a><\/sup>\u00a0See e.g., Maryna Vorotyntseva (2024). Russia\u2019s Attempts to undermine mobilization, (RKK) International Center for Defense and Security Estonia, https:\/\/icds.ee\/wp-content\/uploads\/dlm_uploads\/2024\/09\/Layout-Vorotyntseva_final.pdf<\/a>.<\/span>. Yet a meaningful response to such propaganda cannot simply consist of silencing critical or uncomfortable perspectives, as this risks reinforcing perceptions of disclosure and injustice within the mobilization system. Rather, honest discussions about mobilization and the experiences of those avoiding military service may contribute to lay the groundwork for unity and mutual understanding among Ukrainians who have experienced different forms of suffering and sacrifice as a result of Russia\u2019s war.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Moral ambivalence, classed inequality and protest masculinity<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

Over the past years, I have conducted fieldwork across Europe and along Ukraine\u2019s border regions, particularly in Moldova, where I spoke to a total of 60 Ukrainian men who fled abroad. The men I interviewed came from many different socioeconomic backgrounds, oblasts, and personal circumstances. The majority fall within mobilization age (25-60), and while a few held legal deferments, most did not, and had consequently crossed the border through illegal and sometimes dangerous methods. Although each of their stories represents a unique set of circumstances and personalities, most reflect a complex combination of moral ambiguity and a sense of injustice, with fear of being mobilized and killed in action emerging as the most prominent factor prompting their choice of leaving.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tracing the men\u2019s narratives on the motivations for fleeing also revealed several differences between those who left early in the full-scale war and those who remained in Ukraine for years before eventually deciding to leave. For men who fled in the earlier stages of the war (2022-2023), the decision was often accompanied by significant moral and emotional ambivalence. Among these participants, many had not entirely ruled out returning to join the armed forces at some point. Shortly after leaving in 2022, Vitaliy, for instance, considered returning to defend his home city in Eastern Ukraine as Russia was advancing. His mother, however, persuaded him not to: \u201cI had some thoughts about going back and fighting, but talking with my mother, she said, \u2018okay, if you die, it\u2019s your own business. But if you are injured, the state won\u2019t help you. We as parents will have to care for you.\u2019 (\u2026) So, this is the reason I am still here.\u201d Artem\u2019s story reflects a similar unease about his decision to flee, though his self-negotiation took a more practical form, as he considered acquiring skills abroad that could later contribute to the war effort, such as drone construction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u201cMy current excuse [for being aboard] is that I\u2019m learning FPV and I\u2019m trying to build a drone. I\u2019m trying to learn to fly them. So, if I, at some point, get desperate and come back, at least I\u2019m not going to be like, you know, in the trench or infantry. I would be a pilot or something like.. I would be helpful in some way. Not just cannon fodder. (\u2026) I am not settled with this decision [to flee]. There is work to be done [in Ukraine].\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Artem\u2019s narrative illustrates not only how fleeing was rarely experienced as a final decision in the beginning of the war but also how it tended to involve a recurring moral self-scrutiny about whether the stated reasons for staying abroad amounted to genuine justification or was a form of self-deception.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In contrast, men who left later in the war expressed less moral ambiguity about their decision to flee. A common feature of this group in my study was that they predominantly came from working-class backgrounds and had crossed the border on foot into Moldova via informal routes, similar to Orest. Many described how mobilization practices had ultimately made it impossible to sustain civilian life and employment in the formal economy. Their narratives were therefore strongly shaped by perceptions of injustice within the mobilization process and experiences of men from lower socioeconomic backgrounds and rural areas being disproportionately subjected to forced conscription, because they lack the financial resources or social connections necessary to secure a bilyi kvitok <\/em>(\u201cwhite ticket\u201d) through corruption. Yurii, a working-class7<\/a><\/sup>\u00a0I use the term working-class to describe blue-collar professionals as this group mostly self-identifies as \u2018working men.\u2019<\/span> man from southern Ukraine who left in 2025, described a feeling of powerlessness towards the mobilization system when attempting to obtain a legal deferment for a medical condition, as he had limited financial means and no influential connections:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u201cI love my country\u2026 But every day we see this, that men are caught on the street. I\u2019ve seen it myself! These small buses just circle around the residential building and then, when a man comes out, they take him (\u2026). It does not belong in a democracy. You don\u2019t understand how to get a deferral and what counts. The law changes every day. One day you are legal the other you are not [and can get mobilized]. An ordinary guy like me can do nothing. There is only one document that really counts \u2013 that\u2019s dollars.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

While I am unable to verify whether Yurii in fact had a medical condition that would have qualified him for exemption from military service, the analytical significance lies in how this experience shaped perceptions of injustice. When moving further into the interviews, it was clear that these experiences not only contributed to the decision to leave Ukraine, but also to a diminished sense of guilt surrounding that decision. As exemplified in Yurii\u2019s story, busyfikatsiia <\/em>(busification)8<\/a><\/sup>\u00a0The practice of document checks and mobilization in the public spaces by the TCK and\/or police.<\/span> <\/em>was a recurrent theme and highly influential in motivating the choice of leaving. Many men described that prior to leaving they were in a state of constant anxiety when in public spaces, hiding indoors for extended periods, losing employment, and becoming increasingly unable to fulfil their roles in civilian life due to mobilization. This experience also had a classed and rural dimension, as working-class men from smaller cities or villages tended to feel more exposed to busyfikatsiia<\/em>. Manual workers are typically required to be physically present at their workplaces and were therefore at risk of mobilization while commuting. This risk was compounded by how male-dominated workplaces serve as key points of contact for recruitment officers, and many reported encountering recruiters outside their workplace. Yaroslav described how: \u201cWe usually hear that you find those vans in the villages where people are less educated or have less money. That is a sign, that is a huge sign.\u201d Similarly, Artemiy, a man from a small village noted: \u201cThey drained the villages from men first, that\u2019s why some call it the war of the poor.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There is no systematic data on the socioeconomic composition of the mobilized nor in the armed forces in general, yet some analyses of combat death tolls have pointed to higher mortality rates among men from rural and poorer communities, lending some empirical weight to these perceptions9<\/a><\/sup>\u00a0Roman Mohuczy. Mapping the war \u2013 what data reveals about Ukrainian losses, Substack, 26 March 2026, https:\/\/therootaccess.substack.com\/p\/ukrainian-war-what-data-reveals<\/a>.<\/span>. However, the aim here is not as such to verify the men\u2019s narratives, but to understand how these perceptions themselves shape military-age men\u2019s experiences and life during the war. For them, busyfikatsiia<\/em> was not a mere everyday inconvenience, but a fundamental rupture in their relationship to public spaces and, in a more political sense, in the relationship between citizen and state. Many experienced busyfikatsiia<\/em> as a sign that the state had entirely overstepped its mandate. This combination of perceived class injustice and institutional illegitimacy gave rise to what might be understood as a form of \u2018protest masculinity\u2019 among some of the men. Often theorized in relation to working-class and economically marginalized men in peacetime contexts10<\/a><\/sup>\u00a0E.g. Gregory Wayne Walker (2006). Disciplining Protest Masculinity, Men and Masculinities,<\/em> 9(1): 5\u201322. 10.1177\/1097184X05284217<\/a>.<\/span>, protest masculinity describes a form of masculine identity forged in opposition to institutions experienced as hostile or illegitimate. In this context, defiance itself becomes a means of asserting dignity and masculinity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Among the men in this study, a comparable dynamic appeared to be at work, where the refusal to fight was not necessarily narrated as cowardice or disloyalty, but as a legitimate withdrawal from obligation to a state that had, in their view, lost its claim on their compliance because of its unjust conduct of mobilization. This, however, did not entirely eliminate experiences of guilt. Instead, the guilt expressed was rarely directed toward the state or a sense of constitutional duty, but rather towards other \u201cordinary\u201d Ukrainians fighting for their nation\u2019s survival. Many described donating to platoons or soldiers they personally knew, a practice grounded in both empathy and a desire to contribute to victory. Viktor, for example, explained: \u201cI donate because I care about people. About the soldiers. I am in a lucky situation of not being at the frontline, not everyone is this lucky, I care about them, and I want to help them get a little more comfort in their lives.\u201d For many of the men I interviewed, the decision to flee thus represented less a rejection of the Ukrainian community and the war effort than a resistance to a mobilization regime experienced as unjust, combined with a fundamental fear of death.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Care responsibilities and clashing norms of masculinity<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

While women in Ukraine continue to carry a disproportionate burden of unpaid care work, pre-war transformations in family life had nevertheless begun to reshape masculine roles within the household. Prior to the full-scale invasion, many fathers increasingly took a more active role in childcare and everyday family life and survey data from 2023, suggests that more engaged forms of fatherhood have persisted throughout the war, even as women remain the primary caregivers11<\/a><\/sup>\u00a0Info Sapiens. \u0420\u043e\u043b\u044c \u0447\u043e\u043b\u043e\u0432\u0456\u043a\u0456\u0432 \u0443 \u0431\u0430\u0442\u044c\u043a\u0456\u0432\u0441\u0442\u0432\u0456 \u0443 \u0447\u0430\u0441 \u043f\u043e\u0432\u043d\u043e\u043c\u0430\u0441\u0448\u0442\u0430\u0431\u043d\u043e\u0457 \u0432\u0456\u0439\u043d\u0438. May 2023, https:\/\/www.sapiens.com.ua\/publications\/socpol-research\/283\/ukr_rol_cholovikiv_u_batkivstvi_u_chas_povnomasshtabnoi_viyny_.pptx_.pdf<\/a>. See also Olena Strelnyk\u2019s extensive research on mothering and care work in Ukraine.<\/span>. The war, however, has also placed this constellation under considerable pressure. The growing prominence of military masculinity has intensified legal and symbolic expectations that men\u2019s core social role should be fulfilled through armed service rather than domestic care12<\/a><\/sup>\u00a0Rose (2024), Nation of Heroes.<\/span>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This pressure shaped the experiences of nearly all the men I interviewed in one form or another. Several considered how their position abroad placed them in tension with wartime ideals of masculinity in which bravery and resilience are particularly valued. Vitaliy, for example, described this as a hierarchy of masculinity shaped by narratives of bravery, in which men\u2019s worth and masculine legitimacy were measured according to their perceived willingness to endure danger, even beyond frontline service:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u201cThere are some people who even see the men who fled from Kyiv [to western oblasts] as a kind of betrayal. Some men who stayed think about themselves that \u2018I am not afraid, so I am more masculine than you\u2019 (\u2026) Not standing your ground, [then] you are already considered someone who ran away (…) I don\u2019t agree. Also, why should men feel more guilty for fleeing?\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

As Vitaliy\u2019s narrative also shows, many men actively resisted the idea that bravery or military participation constituted the highest or only legitimate expression of masculine wartime performance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For many, particularly fathers, such resistance was articulated through care responsibilities and an understanding that supporting the nuclear family, both emotionally and financially, takes precedence over defending the state. This understanding aligns with broader transformations in post-independence masculinities, where individual autonomy, economic provision, and the role of the self-enterprising breadwinner increasingly emerged as central masculine ideals in Ukraine, alongside the decline of collectivist Soviet masculinitySofie Rose (2025). Duty and Choice: Unpacking Ambigous Perceptions of Ukrainian Men Fleeing the War, International Affairs<\/em>, 102(1): 1\u201322; Bradley Janey, Sergei Plitin, Janet L. Muse-Burke and Valintine M. Vovk, \u2018Masculinity in post-Soviet Ukraine: an exploratory factor analysis\u2019, Culture, Society and Masculinity <\/em>1: 2, 2009, pp. 137\u201354; Tetyana Bureychak, \u2018Masculinity in Soviet and post-Soviet Ukraine: models and their implications\u2019, in Olena Hankivsky and Anastasiya Salnykova, eds, Gender, politics and society in Ukraine <\/em>(Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2012). In this sense, fleeing abroad could itself be understood as an assertion of a particular kind of masculinity, defined by individual responsibility and protection of the family unit. In this context, active fatherhood frequently emerged as a valued masculine role, especially among younger men. Oleksandr, a 26-year-old man whose first child was born shortly before the full-scale invasion, decided to flee illegally with his family in 2022 by crossing a remote border point into Moldova before moving on to the EU. Although he described feeling torn between his duty to defend Ukraine and his responsibilities at home, his new role as a father ultimately took precedence:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u201cAs a man, I would like to fight off the Russians and stuff, to protect my country… But I want to protect my family more and to be with them. If something happens to me\u2026 (\u2026) You know, I want my daughter to be raised in a full family. Because I know it has a big influence, especially on girls, to have a father role. It matters for her future life and her relationship to men.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Other participants, particularly working-class men from villages, described that they fled abroad to be able to work and provide for their wife and children who remained in safer areas of Ukraine. Marko, a 43-year-old sailor who fled to Moldova in 2025, explained: \u201cMy family supports that I am here and not fighting. I need to be free to provide for my family and to raise my kids. But I cannot raise them from here, I can only make money for them. That\u2019s not how I imagined my role.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The valorisation of fatherhood and family life, however, did not necessarily resolve the underlying tension between protection of the family versus protection of the nation, especially in a context where Ukrainian national identity has become increasingly tied to resilience and the collective capacity and willingness to oppose Russia\u2019s aggression. This has, in turn, reinforced a form of nationalist masculinity that has become socially and culturally entrenched in ways that are difficult to simply opt out of13<\/a><\/sup>\u00a0For more on nationalist masculinity in wartime Ukraine see Rose (2025). Duty and Choice.<\/span>. The men I interviewed were very aware that their own choices were constantly measured against a dominant discourse of resilience, which they as Ukrainians, and in particular as men, had failed to comply with.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For some, this manifested as a constant layer of guilt, shaped by a quiet but persistent feeling that men in their position were viewed negatively. Kyrylo, a man twice displaced, first from his home in Donetsk in 2014 and then from Kyiv in 2022, describes feelings of isolation from the Ukrainian community after leaving: \u201cI do see what other Ukrainians write about men like me on social media. It makes me feel… I don\u2019t know\u2026 I have struggled a lot with my mental health after I left Ukraine.\u201d Similarly, when reflecting on his decision to flee, Bohdan explained how merely answering my questions about this choice immediately gave him a feeling that he was just making up excuses: \u201cNo matter what you will say, still quite a lot of people, they will think in the back of their minds that, you know, you\u2019re just trying to justify your presence outside Ukraine. Personally, I can say that I really feel this guilt that I am not with my family, with my other compatriots in the country.\u201d Several participants also spoke of a sense that their identity as Ukrainian men had become conditional in ways it had never been before the war. Vasyl, for example, left Ukraine shortly before turning 18 and, although still far from mobilization age, he expressed an experience that his citizenship no longer carried the same weight because he had left the country:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

\u201cI\u2019m feeling that when I am going back to Ukraine, I kind of have no right to tell what they should do after we win. There\u2019s going to be, of course, changes in the government, change of rules, new laws and so on. And, for me, I have a feeling that I have no right to tell what new laws we should have, how to choose the government, and what to do in the country. Because I was abroad (\u2026) For myself I feel really guilty that I left my country in a really hard time.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

While many participants expressed these different experiences of guilt, others, like Orest who I introduced in the beginning, were more reluctant to adopt a stigmatizing framing of men in his position. For him, mobilization practices were understood as a breach of an already fragile social contract between citizens and the state. Leaving was therefore largely seen as a legitimate response: \u201cRight now I don\u2019t feel guilty, I just saved myself.\u201d These different narratives point to an ongoing reconfiguration of social and moral life in wartime Ukraine, where competing expectations of masculinity and citizenship are continuously being reshaped as new social hierarchies evolve.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Returning home?<\/strong><\/h2>\n\n\n\n

What emerges is not a straightforward story of resistance nor of submission to the gendered expectations attached to men\u2019s wartime roles. While men who fled often pushed back against letting militarized masculinity define their societal role, most remained far from free of the moral scrutiny and guilt attached to their precarious position as perceived draft evaders and undeserving refugees14<\/a><\/sup>\u00a0For more on this dual precarity see also Sofie Rose (2025), The right not to fight: Protection of Ukrainian men who flee the full-scale war, Revista L\u00fcvo, <\/em>12(1): 68\u201372, https:\/\/www.calameo.com\/read\/0048130595177cab8ebe9<\/a>.<\/span>. This tension was perhaps most intensely experienced in relation to the question of return. While most men described being met with understanding and sympathy from close relatives and friends, a widespread concern also emerged regarding the social landscape they would be returning to. Potential stigma from fellow Ukrainians who stayed during the war was frequently raised as a source of future polarization. Some participants contested whether such divisions would have tangible impacts on their future lives, while others believed they could affect their job prospects and social relationships more broadly as some had already experienced the loss of friendships and intimate relations, which they believed were linked to their decision to flee.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The prospect of encountering veterans in the future elicited the most uniform response among the men I spoke to. This issue was discussed with great empathy for the veterans and acknowledgement of the profound horror and sacrifice experienced by soldiers. This empathy, however, was accompanied by a deep concern that future encounters between veterans and men who evaded the draft could become a serious source of social conflict. Several feared that such meetings might in some cases turn violent or even deadly, fuelled by the large number of firearms circulating in wartime society. For many men who took part in this study, the combination of this fear and concerns about different forms of social exclusion represented a real obstacle to their return. For them, returning home means risking subordination within a social order reorganized around sacrifice and suffering, in which their choice of fleeing may permanently undermine their legitimacy as citizens and men within Ukrainian society. In this sense, the decision to flee, regardless of its causes, has set in motion a process of social and masculine dislocation that does not end at the border, but continues to shape these men\u2019s lives, identities, and futures in ways that remain deeply uncertain.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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