Ukraine’s shrinking cities have been hit hardest by Russia’s invasion and occupation. However, social inequality and environmental pollution were already severe there prior to the war. In her contribution to the “Pluriverse of Peace” series, Elena Batunova argues that if we want a future with social equality and environmental sustainability, we must consider this history when discussing the anticipated reconstruction period.
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The Russian war against Ukraine, dubbed the ‘War of Surprises,’ has been full of unexpected shocks and actions. However, one thing strikes me as particularly notable: While devastating Ukraine, Russia has begun a process of long-term self-destruction. The aggressor state has been experiencing population decline and shrinkage for decades, yet it is absurdly willing to sacrifice even more of its future to maintain its geopolitical illusions. Clearly, the damage caused is not symmetrical. Russia will suffer long-term consequences, but Ukraine is experiencing far greater destruction. This will pose an almost insurmountable challenge for generations to come – partly due to the fact that the war is being fought in Ukraine’s most fragile urban areas. Regions and cities that have already been shrinking and weakened by years of depopulation, economic decline, and limited political attention are now bearing the brunt of environmental destruction, displacement, and, in part, the terror of occupation.
This situation is a tragedy and a warning. The war has highlighted the uneven resilience of Ukraine’s urban landscape. Cities that are shrinking and located on the periphery, lacking strategic infrastructure, local leadership, and authority within the national context, have a limited ability to respond to crises. Furthermore, these cities are often excluded from emergency and long-term recovery plans. The same cities that are currently bearing the heaviest burden of war are at high risk of being left out again during post-war reconstruction and resource allocation. These cities may not align with the dominant paradigm of economic and geopolitical significance, particularly following their demographic exploitation during wartime. Will these cities continue to be marginalized, or will they transform into areas where people can return and lead better lives? This depends on whether post-war planning stops using the same unfair, selective methods that allowed these cities to fall so far behind in the first place.
Before the bombs: How shrinkage shaped Ukraine’s urban landscape
Urban shrinkage has become a defining feature of the post-socialist space. Although shrinkage did not begin with the collapse of socialism, it accelerated amid the ruins of the Soviet Union. Ukraine is no exception. Here, urban shrinkage was driven by post-Soviet transitions, deindustrialization, and outmigration, as well as deeper scars: famines, wars, and political repression in the 20th century that altered the nation’s demographic makeup. Between 1993 and 2014, before the outbreak of war and the loss of territory to Russian occupation, Ukraine’s population fell by 12 percent, from 52.4 million to 46 million, with nearly every region affected. Only Kyiv and Zakarpattia grew, while the north and east experienced the steepest decline. These crises primarily impacted small and medium-sized cities, where economic decline, outmigration, and an aging population have led to widespread urban shrinkage.
Urban shrinkage is about more than just demographic or economic decline. It is also often linked to environmental degradation. Population and economic decline can contribute to the expansion of green spaces since nature can reclaim vacant land. However, shrinking cities often inherit deteriorating infrastructure and buildings, accumulate trash, and suffer from contaminated land and degraded ecosystems as invasive species spread. In Ukraine, particularly in the eastern region, long-term mining and heavy industrial activities have led to severe environmental degradation, including air, soil, and water pollution; the accumulation of toxic waste; and landscape destruction. Until 2014, the region suffered from a lack of an effective waste disposal system, unauthorized dumps, fire-hazardous waste heaps, and landslides, creating a constant environmental threat. This created a feedback loop: As the quality of the living environment declined, more people left. As cities shrank, environmental recovery became less probable. Thus, Ukraine’s industrial cities, already in decline, became ecological frontlines even before the war began.
The war’s invisiblized epicentres
Traditionally, larger cities have a greater capacity to prepare for crises. They hold more power within the national political context and possess strategic and symbolic significance. During wartime, the national government prioritizes defending large cities, where most of the population is concentrated. Large cities have relative security due to the presence of modern air defense systems, a reinforced garrison, reliable infrastructure, and the political priority to protect them. Small and medium-sized cities, however, remain outside the focus of national priorities and must rely on their own resources. In shrinking cities, such resources are limited. They often lack air defense systems and critical infrastructure, which requires the creation of additional defense systems, and they rarely host large military garrisons. Dramatic events in small cities cause much less international resonance because they are neglected and, consequently, rendered invisible on a global scale. The situation in Ukraine since 2022 clearly illustrates this trend. Kyiv, Kharkiv, and Lviv have generally fared better than small frontline towns in Russian-occupied territory, such as Bakhmut, Kupyansk, and Vovchansk, which have suffered significantly more.
The demographic composition of shrinking cities, which is marked by an aging population and the outmigration of younger inhabitants, has made them far less resilient. In addition to existing demographic issues, small shrinking towns are more likely to be used as a resource for military mobilization. In Ukraine, according to the authorities, mobilization is carried out evenly throughout the country. However, experts and research participants claim otherwise: mobilization in rural areas (including depressed small towns and villages) is more noticeable and affects a significant proportion of residents. Conversely, conscription is less evident in large cities. Sociological surveys reveal significant regional variations in conscription readiness and evasion. The results indicate that in regions with large industrial and rural populations, such as the partially occupied East, the level of mistrust toward conscription has been higher than in the Central regions. The results of sociological surveys also note the unfairness of mobilization. Generally, those who can evade conscription are men who work abroad, as well as those with an education, resources, and connections. Residents of shrinking cities generally do not have these ‘privileges.’ War primarily affects the less protected strata, and the phrase ‘only the poor are mobilized’ is often heard among them.
A second erasure? Shrinking cities after the war
The end of the war and its consequences for the occupied territories are uncertain. However, even a favorable scenario for Ukraine, such as the end of the occupation, could pose new threats, particularly to war-torn shrinking cities, if the path chosen for postwar recovery is not carefully considered. The country’s recovery could lead to the consolidation of negative capitalist development scenarios. These scenarios are characterized by the concentration of resources in large cities, increased regional inequality, and intensified exploitation of natural resources. Prioritizing investment in larger urban centers would pose serious risks to the success of shrinking cities. This approach would slow growth in peripheral areas and accelerate population outflow, exacerbating long-standing urban inequality.
Uneven development is just one part of the risk. Achieving economic growth poses an equally alarming threat. Implementing neoliberal policies during reconstruction could exacerbate poverty, benefiting a select few while leaving most people behind. In Ukraine, the prioritization of foreign investors’ interests over social and environmental standards is already evident. The most striking example is the Trump deal on rare earth metals offered to Ukraine by the U.S. These metals are critical to the ‘green’ transition, but extracting them poses significant risks of pollution and land degradation. In exchange for support and investment, Ukraine would provide a stake in the anticipated profits from extracting its valuable strategic resources. Thus, Ukraine may sacrifice its mineral resources for freedom while failing to secure sustainable development or environmental safety.
Suppose Ukraine wants more than just to recover according to the standards of the IMF and its other creditors. Suppose it wants to build a fair and sustainable future. In that case, the country would face a difficult choice: rapid growth at any cost or a slower, more cautious path in which ecology and equality are at the heart of all decisions. Recovery could be an opportunity for rebalancing – a chance to build inclusive systems that value care, community, and resilience.
Shrinking cities rarely make headlines, but their fate reflects Ukraine’s future. Even before the war, these territories paid a high price, losing resources and people. During the war, they became reserves for the frontlines, targets for missiles and severe war crimes, victims of environmental disasters, and occasionally, sites of occupation terror. If the country’s reconstruction prioritizes centralization, profitability, and political visibility, shrinking cities will be discriminated against again. This approach would be a strategic failure because territories drained of resources are vulnerable demographically, economically, and ecologically. Today, it is essential not only to document the scale of the destruction but also to consider the future. What kind of recovery should we discuss after the war, and whose voices should we hear? Will the outcome be another cycle of exploitation and oblivion? Or will there be an opportunity to implement a different model – one that is more just, sustainable, and inclusive, even for cities that have been considered ‘superfluous’ until now? The answer to these questions is important not only for Ukraine but also for the world. It speaks to the fate of all societies in the shadow of significant decisions and ambitions of transnational capital.