As Russia's war in Ukraine grinds on, a specter from its past is haunting the Kremlin: the return of the lawless 'wild 90s.' Following the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, Russia saw a violent explosion of organized crime, with gangs seizing control of banks, factories, and entire industries. Contract killings and car bombings became routine. Now, with hundreds of thousands of soldiers—including up to 180,000 former convicts pardoned in exchange for military service—preparing to return from the frontlines, analysts fear a similar upheaval.
The Conditions That Fueled the 'Wild 90s'
The chaos of the 1990s was driven by weak state institutions, economic collapse, and the rapid privatization of state assets. As criminologist Federico Varese of the University of Oxford explains, criminal groups stepped in to provide 'private protection'—contract enforcement, debt recovery, and physical security—where the state was absent. Sociologist Vadim Volkov described the rise of 'violent entrepreneurs' who commodified coercion in a legal vacuum. Russia's murder rate more than doubled between 1990 and 1994, peaking at over 33 killings per 100,000 people, one of the highest in the world.
Today's Russia is different. Since President Vladimir Putin consolidated power in 1999, the state has reasserted control over criminal networks, often integrating them into governance. Organized crime now helps the Kremlin evade Western sanctions by smuggling restricted goods through parallel trade routes and acquiring sanctioned technologies via intermediaries in third countries. This transformation has made the state and criminal groups interdependent.
The Ukraine war is likely to accelerate this evolution rather than reverse it. Expanded Western sanctions have widened opportunities for illicit trade, but the most significant risk comes from large-scale military demobilization. Since the full-scale invasion began in 2022, Russia has mobilized hundreds of thousands of troops, including former convicts. While military service does not inherently lead to criminality, evidence from post-conflict societies such as Colombia, Sierra Leone, Cambodia, and Bosnia-Herzegovina shows that poorly managed demobilization can reshape criminal markets.
Research on disarmament, demobilization, and reintegration consistently finds that unemployment, psychological trauma, and weak institutional support create opportunities for criminal groups to recruit former combatants. Military service also teaches skills—logistics, intelligence gathering, network management—that are directly transferable to modern organized crime, which now includes cybercrime, cryptocurrency laundering, and transnational financial crime.
Even a small proportion of returning veterans turning to crime could change the composition and sophistication of Russian criminal groups. The case of Colombia is instructive: in the 2000s, over 30,000 fighters from right-wing paramilitary groups were demobilized. A minority joined or formed criminal organizations, bringing military training, discipline, and networks. By 2011, these groups controlled up to half of Colombia's cocaine exports, according to Human Rights Watch.
Russia's state is far stronger than the one that emerged after the Soviet collapse, making a wholesale return to the 'wild 90s' unlikely. Instead, the war is likely to spawn a new generation of criminal networks that are more professional, militarized, and embedded within state structures. The Kremlin faces a difficult balancing act: it has long relied on managing and exploiting criminal groups, but it also fears the social instability that would arise if those groups become too powerful or autonomous.
Moscow has begun preparing for the return of veterans through initiatives like the 'Time of Heroes' program, which channels selected veterans into public administration and political office. While limited, such planning reflects official recognition that the domestic consequences of war will extend far beyond the battlefield. As the lines between organized crime and state power blur, Russia's future may look less like the 1990s and more like a hybrid of state-controlled coercion and illicit enterprise.
For the Indo-Pacific, the implications are significant. Russia's criminal networks already facilitate sanctions evasion that affects global supply chains, and a more sophisticated organized crime sector could expand illicit activities into Southeast Asia and beyond. As ASEAN deepens ties with Russia, the region must watch how Moscow manages this internal security challenge.
