Summary

A war leaves scars not only on those who are attacked, but also in many ways on people on the aggressor’s side. Russia’s war against Ukraine, launched in February 2022, has killed and wounded countless Ukrainian soldiers and civilians. But the war has also driven many Russian men to leave their country to avoid conscription. Some have ended up seeking refuge in Korea. In 2023, Koreans heard stories of Russian asylum seekers stranded for months at Incheon International Airport, unable to enter the country as they sought protection. A few months later, however, those stories disappeared from the news — and, I have to admit, from my mind. Then, in June, more than four years after the invasion began, I encountered a self-described Russian asylum seeker in Seoul. The man was Nima Tsybikov, 54, a Buryat ethnic minority in Russia whose hometown is located near the Mongolian border. He showed up at the newsroom and came up to me — my desk is fairly close to the main door — saying he wanted to talk to me about the war in Ukraine. As I listened to him that day and read his WhatsApp messages in the following days, it became clear that his story was a sad reminder that the war continues to separate families, even far from the battlefield. Tsybikov said he and his 23-year-old son arrived in Korea in 2024 via Mongolia and that both are seeking refugee status. His son fled Russia to avoid conscription. Tsybikov believes the Russian government has been particularly aggressive in recruiting men from ethnic minorities. One of his nephews — the son of a long-deceased cousin — went to fight in Ukraine after signing a contract while he was in prison. Tsybikov said he later learned that the young man had fought in Russia’s Kursk region, was wounded and returned home on medical leave after being hospitalized. He received 3 million rubles ($36,000) in compensation for his injury and is now back in a hospital somewhere in Russia. The father fears the same fate could await his son. Tsybikov was not subject to conscription, but that didn’t keep him safe. The fact that the Russian government targeted his ethnic community for recruitment had bothered him for a long time and made him increasingly vocal in his opposition to the war. He claimed the government had also recruited heavily from his community for previous conflicts, including the wars in Chechnya and Georgia and the conflict in Syria. He said he had openly criticized Russia’s invasion back home, telling relatives, friends and acquaintances that Russia was the aggressor and Ukraine was defending itself. Some listened quietly; others argued with him. Over time, he said, people became increasingly hostile and distant. After arriving in Korea, Tsybikov opened a YouTube account criticizing Russia’s actions in the war. He said his account was eventually blocked. “I believe that I could be harmed if I returned,” he said. For now, his hope of remaining permanently in Korea appears distant. The number of asylum applications among Russian nationals in Korea reached over 20,000 in 2025, according to the Ministry of Justice. Yet, none of the applicants has been granted refugee status. An activist helping asylum seekers told me that the Korean government may have chosen not to review cases involving Russians in order to avoid potential diplomatic tension with Russia. Tsybikov's son misses his family and their Buryat homeland. But for now, the father hopes his son can stay in Korea long enough to build a future that does not require him to fight in a war.