Winter Is Coming—for Ukrainian Refugees

Hours after Russia invaded Ukraine on Feb. 24, the largest mass movement of people in Europe since World War II began. As women, children, and older adults navigated the trauma of this exodus, greeting them at Ukraine’s western border was an army of humanitarian workers who rushed to establish housing, medical centers, and protocols to register the new arrivals to the European Union. In March, the European Council implemented the Temporary Protection Directive, which allows Ukrainians to work and access social welfare across the bloc, the first time it was triggered since it was established following the breakup of Yugoslavia. Since then, more than 4.2 million Ukrainians have registered for temporary protection across the union.

But the warm embrace of those early days is turning into a cold shoulder. Over the summer and into the fall, as the direct threat to Kyiv diminished and the Ukrainian military began its counteroffensive, Ukraine seemed less in need of a lifeboat. Western cities, such as Lviv, Ukraine, became a haven for people who wished to remain close to family fighting for Ukraine’s democracy on the front line; more than 6.7 million people have crossed into Ukraine since late February, among them refugees either returning for good or making short trips to support those at home. As the war became the new normal for Europe, a new malice has festered.

As the cost of living has spiked across the EU in part due to rising energy prices following sanctions on Russian energy, the attitude toward Ukrainian refugees in Central and Eastern Europe in particular is slowly beginning to turn. The shift has been fueled by relentless Russian disinformation about the economic burden of hosting refugees and populist politicians eager to seize the moment to further their own agendas.

In the Czech Republic, a landlocked nation of approximately 10.8 million people, anti-refugee sentiment reared its head at two pro-Russia demonstrations in August. Organized by far-left and far-right groups, the leaders of the events, who have united under the banner “Czech Republic First,” called for early elections, negotiations for Russian gas, military neutrality, and an “end to the planned dilution of the nation” by Ukrainian refugees. The groups’ explicit goal, according to the website, is to undermine Ukrainian refugees’ chances of getting permanent residence in the Czech Republic.

Many of Ukraine’s neighbors, such as the Czech Republic, were initially very welcoming of refugees from Russian President Vladimir Putin’s war. But time has changed their tune.

“I was expecting the debate [about Ukrainian refugees] after the initial humanitarian, pro-refugee stance,” said Jan Kovar, a deputy director of research at the Institute of International Relations Prague, a think tank. But as the belt tightens, the guests become unwelcome.

“What the pro-Russians and others in the Czech Republic are starting to use is clearly the economic burden argument,” he said.

These concerns are not just for Ukrainian refugees already settled in the EU but also for the ones set to come this winter. With freezing temperatures on the horizon, people who have been sheltering among the ruins of Russia’s war in Ukraine will likely seek shelter in the West, international organizations have warned. Renewed Russian strikes on civilian areas, especially energy infrastructure, with the express intent of freezing millions of people to death, have called for on Russian television by propagandists. 

Filippo Grandi, the United Nations high commissioner for refugees, speaking hours after Russia’s latest strikes, feared they would “provoke more [Ukrainian] displacements.” For new arrivals to the EU, the landscape this winter will be much frostier than for those who arrived this spring. Even in countries such as Poland, which has staunchly defended Ukraine since the first Russian missile touched Ukrainian soil, special benefits for most Ukrainian refugees have been withdrawn, which include subsidies for Polish hosts.

For nongovernmental organizations, such as the Ukrainian House, a Warsaw-based organization that has supported Ukrainians in Poland since 2009, cuts to special benefits are having a big impact, especially when it comes to accommodating refugees. Without subsidies, the lure for landlords to put their properties back on the inflated housing market—coupled with fears of rising energy costs—means options for refugees are becoming slim throughout the country. 

“The housing market in Poland was in crisis before the invasion, and the influx of people has worsened it,” said Benjamin Cope, a Ukrainian House coordinator who has helped to find accommodations for approximately 7,000 Ukrainian refugees in Poland. “There is still a lot of goodwill and support, but finding long-term accommodation is becoming more challenging.”

Should there be a significant second wave of Ukrainian refugees, attention will turn to Brussels. On Oct. 10, the European Commission, the bloc’s executive branch, extended the Temporary Protection Directive for Ukrainians for another year—until early 2024. It also announced a new online platform to help Ukrainian refugees access “good quality jobs.”

But land mines abound. Leaders like Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orban could quickly work to undermine an even more effective EU refugee response. In the Czech Republic, should the government of center-right Prime Minister Petr Fiala fall and the populist Andrej Babis return to power, the situation for Ukrainian refugees in the country will change dramatically. 

Whatever happens in the war, the one thing that’s certain is that Europe’s initial warm welcome for Ukrainian refugees has gotten colder.