The Russian government's control over migrant labor is becoming increasingly strict. Over the past year, authorities have introduced a registry of "illegal" migrants, toughened school enrollment rules for children of migrants, granted police the power to deport individuals without trial, and launched an app to track the movements of migrants in Moscow and the surrounding region.
Working in Russia has already become less attractive due to the war in Ukraine and the ruble's devaluation, and with new restrictions in place, more young people from Central Asia are considering other countries— including European ones. BBC’s Russian Service has more details.
"Reluctantly" in Moscow
Like 89% of young Kyrgyz people, 25-year-old Bilal (name changed at his request) always wanted to work abroad.
In Kyrgyzstan, young people grow up in an environment where labor migration is a mass, economically necessary, and socially accepted phenomenon, while the domestic economy does not yet offer comparable opportunities. The average monthly wage in Kyrgyzstan is 42,000 som (480 USD), while in Russia, for example, factory workers can earn 150,000 rubles (almost 2,000 USD) per month. Unlike most of his fellow countrymen, Bilal never planned to work in Russia. “Because many of our citizens face racism there,” he explains.
His dream was Europe, but obtaining a work invitation to the EU without connections seemed impossible. So, Bilal turned to “middlemen”—his fellow countrymen who had established ties with European companies constantly in need of labor. The middlemen advised him to go to Saint Petersburg, where, they said, it would be easier to process paperwork and apply for a visa.
It was the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, and many Schengen Area countries had stopped issuing visas and temporarily closed their consulates. Bilal didn't want to return home empty-handed, so he decided to stay in Russia—“reluctantly,” as he puts it.
"At first, I worked illegally at a ski resort. Mainly, we chopped wood and cleared snow around the cottages. They paid us in cash," he recalls.
Two months later, Bilal moved to Moscow, obtained a work patent (a document that allows nationals from visa-exempt countries to work legally in Russia), and became a courier for Yandex.
Bilal speaks Russian fluently—this explains why, unlike his friends, he didn’t often encounter xenophobia. However, conflicts still arose: “There were people who’d say, ‘Look, the migrants have arrived…’ Especially when a customer gave the wrong address, leading to delivery issues. And, of course, it was the migrants' fault.”
Bilal left Russia two months before the start of the full-scale war in Ukraine. "Back then, it wasn’t as bad as it is now," he recalls. "Yes, they’d stop you on the street, but they’d take the money and let you go. Now, my friends tell me about 'Amina' (the Russian migration tracking app), how the police catch people on the streets, and even send them off to war."
His dream still remains Europe.
Raids and surveillance
In Russia, the path to legal employment for migrant workers often leads through a center known as Sakharo—located 60 kilometers from Moscow. The center is infamous for its long queues, where people often wait for hours. Armed soldiers guard the perimeter, and inside, migrants undergo procedures such as blood and urine tests to detect "socially significant diseases." Those who manage to obtain their documents on the first attempt can work legally, but they are still far from immune to further issues.
Russians often refuse to rent accommodations to migrants, while children of migrants are rejected from schools and kindergartens “due to lack of space.” Migrants also face "raids" at workplaces or continuous "document checks" on the streets or public transport. Even the war against Ukraine has become a tool for pressuring migrants, with many being encouraged to participate in the war in exchange for "bonuses," such as expedited citizenship.
After the attack on Crocus City Hall, allegedly carried out by four Tajik citizens, security forces conducted large-scale raids. Tajikistan’s government, concerned about rising xenophobia, advised its citizens to stay indoors.
Lawmakers then stepped in. Over the past year, they restricted the ability to obtain residence permits through marriage, gave the Ministry of Internal Affairs the right to deport migrants without trial, required migrant children to pass a Russian language exam to be enrolled in schools, and created a Registry of Controlled Persons—a database of foreigners without legal grounds to remain in Russia. Some have already found themselves mistakenly listed in the registry, which effectively restricted their movement within the country, froze their bank accounts, and even revoked their ability to drive.
The Russian authorities justify these measures as necessary for fighting illegal immigration and preventing crime. In July of this year, the Ministry of Internal Affairs reported an increase in crimes committed by migrants, but foreigners still make up a small percentage of the total crime rate. A study by the project "If We Are Precise" showed that Russian men are more likely to commit crimes than migrants.
On September 1st, a new pilot project began. Migrants from Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan, Armenia, Kazakhstan, Georgia, Azerbaijan, Moldova, and Ukraine, living in Moscow or the Moscow region, are required to install the "Amina" app on their phones. The authorities have openly stated that the main purpose of the app is to continuously track users' locations.
Inconvenience and Fears of Consequences
If a phone fails to transmit geolocation data to "Amina" for more than three working days, the user is automatically removed from the registry. If a migrant cannot resolve the issue promptly, they risk being placed in the “controlled persons” registry, which may lead to account freezes, job losses, or expulsion from university.
Imran, a 27-year-old migrant from Tajikistan, is concerned. "The geolocation on my phone is turned on, and everything transmits to Amina, but I receive notifications several times a day saying that geolocation is not being transmitted. The app works terribly, and I have no idea what the consequences will be," he says.
Users often report issues with the app, including problems moving beyond the first screen, uploading photos, or passing identity verification, but the most common complaints concern geolocation problems.
The head of the Migration Center, Anton Ignatov, argues that the program will improve safety and "prevent violations by unscrupulous individuals." He uses the example of migrants buying work permits for short periods and then "disappearing" into industrial zones in Moscow and the region.
Another factor contributing to this issue is the cost of the work permit, which is 8,900 rubles per month (115 USD) in Moscow and the surrounding region. For many migrants working low-paying jobs, such as construction or warehouse labor, this is a significant portion of their salary, pushing some into the "shadow" economy.
Working in Russia has become too difficult
32-year-old Kudaibergen from Kyrgyzstan worked in a warehouse on the outskirts of Moscow "to feed his family." The employer provided accommodation for migrant workers at the warehouse.
"We had OMON (Russian riot police) come. They treated us as if they were arresting dangerous terrorists. OMON arrived with batons and stun guns, as if they were storming us. They forced us all out the door, and we stood there, hands behind our backs, for about two hours. During that time, they checked our documents," he recalls.
Russian authorities claim that the checks are conducted in strict accordance with the law and that no unlawful actions are committed against migrants. They argue that migrants do not file complaints after such checks.
By the end of 2024, the checks had intensified, and Kudaibergen decided that it was too difficult to work in Russia anymore, so he returned to Kyrgyzstan. "But now I have to feed my family," he says. "I’m thinking about Europe, asking friends how to get there, but I don’t know if it will work. They say getting a visa is very difficult."
The European dream
Despite the many stories of disillusionment among migrants in Russia, it’s difficult to definitively say that labor migration to Russia has decreased in recent years. Available statistics are fragmented, and data from different agencies don’t align. The situation is further complicated by the fact that the Ministry of Internal Affairs has stopped publishing key data, and migration registration methodologies have changed several times, making year-on-year comparisons unreliable.
In 2024, researchers from the Higher School of Economics concluded that labor migration in Russia had reached its lowest point in the last 10 years. Since then, the number of entries has started to rise, but the average annual presence of legal labor migrants in the country remains at 3–3.5 million, significantly lower than in previous years.
According to Rossiskaya Gazeta, foreign workers are less willing to come to Russia for work due to two reasons: stricter migration policies and declining wages. The devaluation of the ruble has led to a roughly 30% drop in income in dollar terms.
However, Russia remains the most popular destination for labor migrants from almost all Central Asian countries. The second most popular destination is Kazakhstan, followed by Turkey, where migrants from Central Asia are employed in industries such as textiles, construction, hospitality, and seasonal agriculture.
For many, like Bilal, the dream remains to receive a work invitation from a European country. He eventually succeeded, paying two thousand dollars to the same middlemen who helped him get the job invitation from a logistics company.
"Without experience in Europe, it’s difficult to get a job with a good company," he says. "There are bad employers who exploit the fact that newcomers don’t know their rights. They can underpay you or force you to work overtime. At the same time, the police are very strict about working hours and rest periods, so no one wants to break the rules."
Bilal now works in Slovakia, earning around 2,500 euros a month, a far cry from the difficulties of working in Russia.
