At first glance, Yelets in winter looks like a scene from a Russian fairy tale. From the embankment, golden domes of Orthodox churches glint in the pale sun, while ice fishermen dot the frozen river below.
But the fairy-tale impression fades quickly. Along the riverbank, a recruitment billboard promises a one-off sum equivalent to £15,000 to anyone who signs up to fight in Ukraine. Nearby, a poster depicts a Russian soldier aiming a Kalashnikov, emblazoned with the slogan: “We’re there where we need to be.”
The Kremlin launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine on 24 February 2022, aiming to force Kyiv back into Moscow’s orbit and reshape Europe’s post-Cold War security architecture. Instead, four years later, the conflict grinds on, now longer than Nazi Germany’s war against the Soviet Union.
In Yelets, the human cost of the war is visible everywhere. A giant mural on a nine-storey apartment block commemorates five local men killed in Ukraine, under the words: “Glory to the heroes of Russia!”
“My friend’s husband was killed there. The son of my cousin, too. And grandson,” says Irina, a ticket collector. “Lots of people have been killed. I feel sorry for these lads.”
Struggling to make ends meet amid rising utility bills and prices, Irina still helps assemble aid packages for soldiers. She does not openly oppose the war but struggles to understand its purpose. “In the Great Patriotic War, we knew what we were fighting for. Now? I’m not sure.”
The front line sometimes feels closer than 250km away. Around Yelets, Ukrainian drones have prompted the installation of emergency shelters at bus stops, parks, and in apartment basements. “The sirens go off almost every night,” Irina says. “But we don’t leave our buildings. We just go into corridors without windows.”
Even daily life bears the marks of war. A local pancake café displays the Latin letters V and Z, symbols of the “special military operation,” with the slogan: “Grab a pancake, then the whole world.”
Russia’s economy is strained. VAT has risen from 20% to 22% to fund defence and security. Small businesses feel the pinch. Anastasiya Bykova, a bakery owner in Yelets, explains: “Utility bills, rent, taxes, and the VAT increase make ingredients more expensive. We’ve had to raise prices. If we all close, the town becomes a dark grey patch.”
Even in Lipetsk, the regional capital, the war is omnipresent—military posters, shelters, and recruitment campaigns—but for ordinary residents, day-to-day concerns like leaky pipes, broken lifts, and rising costs dominate. Pensioner Ivan Pavlovich reflects a common sentiment: “The special military operation is excellent. It’s just that prices keep rising. Pensions go up, but prices go up even more. So what do I gain? Nothing.”
As the war enters its fifth year, optimism is scarce. Many in Yelets and the wider Lipetsk region are simply hunkering down, weathering rising costs, and hoping for better times, even as the human and financial toll of the conflict continues to mount.
