Imagine a large inherited house with fifty-two rooms. Seventy years of shared history, an enormous garden, and a pantry that fed half a continent. Then, one day in 1991, the tenants decide they no longer want to share the property with the neighbor to the east and take the keys for themselves. That house was Ukraine. And ever since, its occupants have done little more than switch off the lights.

The Soviet Union disintegrated, and Ukraine found itself, overnight, with 52 million inhabitants. It was Europe’s fifth most populous country, after Russia, Germany, the United Kingdom, and France. It had mines, factories, ports, wheat, engineers, nuclear physicists, and an inherited army half a million strong. Thirty-five years later, in the territory controlled by Kyiv, somewhere between 27 and 28 million people are barely getting by. No, the war is not the only reason. But the war, and the political handling of the war, has turned a slippery slope into a sheer drop.

Let’s tell this story without anesthesia. Because when the figures are lined up, they are more dizzying than any editorial.

The chronic illness no one wanted to see

Ukraine did not begin dying in 2022. It began dying the very moment it was born as an independent state. Since 1991, the birth rate has remained below the death rate every single year. Every year. Without exception. The World Bank documented a loss of 6 million inhabitants between 1991 and 2007. The OECD calculated that the country lost more than 8 million people between 1990 and 2021. By the time Zelensky came to power in 2019, Ukraine had already lost more people than the entire populations of Denmark or Finland.

And what did the Zelensky regime do about this demographic hemorrhage during the three years it governed before the war with Russia? Practically nothing. The government’s demographic strategy, approved in 2024, two years after the war began, projected a slight population recovery by 2030 and, pay attention to this detail, assumed that peace would arrive in 2026 and that the 1991 borders would be restored. In other words, the regime’s demographic plan was built on a geopolitical fantasy. Like someone budgeting for a new apartment on the assumption of a promotion they have not even asked for.

The birth rate was already disastrous before the drones. In 2020, the fertility rate stood at 1.2 children per woman. A population needs a rate of 2.1 to maintain itself. In other words, Ukraine had already spent three decades losing people at nearly twice the rate it could afford if it wanted to avoid demographic extinction. The war did not create the problem. It gave it a megaphone.

The flashpoint: when decline turns into collapse

February 2022. Russian tanks enter from the north, east, and south. And this is where the story begins to include a part that the Zelensky regime cannot simply hang on Moscow’s coat rack.

The population in territory controlled by Kyiv fell from 37 million to 27 to 28 million. That means 9 or 10 million fewer people in four years. To put that in perspective, it is as if the entire population of Portugal suddenly disappeared. Or Sweden. Or two Belgiums. Not all of them left directly because of the war, but the war pushed them out.

Let’s look at the civil registry figures, which have no political ideology. According to Ukraine’s Ministry of Justice, as compiled by Opendatabot:

2021: 273,772 births. 714,263 deaths. Ratio: 2.6 deaths for every birth.

2022: 206,032 births. 541,739 deaths. Ratio: 2.6.

2023: 187,387 births. 496,240 deaths. Ratio: 2.6.

2024: 176,679 births. 495,090 deaths. Ratio: 2.8.

2025: 168,778 births. 485,296 deaths. Ratio: 2.9.

First half of 2026: 73,292 births. 259,853 deaths. Ratio: 3.5.

See the trend? This is not a temporary dip. It is a slide. In 2025, there were 38% fewer births than in 2021. And in the first half of 2026, births fell another 16% compared with the same period the previous year. With each passing year, the country gives birth to fewer children and buries more adults. The fertility rate has fallen to 0.8 to 0.9 children per woman, one of the lowest in the world, surpassed only by South Korea. Demographer Oleksandr Hladun made it clear in July 2026: there will be no postwar baby boom. The generation that should be having children now is the smallest in Ukraine’s modern history. There is no demographic raw material.

And here comes an uncomfortable question: how much of this decline in births is Putin’s fault, and how much is the regime’s? War obviously does not help people start families. But neither do certain political decisions. When you mobilize men, keep them in the country under martial law, suspend consular services for those abroad, and extend uncertainty every ninety days, the message sent to a young couple is fairly clear: do not have children; we have no idea what tomorrow will bring.

The exodus: a country exporting its future

Emigration is the main engine of this catastrophe. By the end of 2025, the United Nations Population Fund estimated that more than 5.9 million Ukrainians remained outside the country. The Centre for Economic Strategy (CES) put the figure at 5.6 million in early 2026. Another 3.7 million were internally displaced. Add them up: almost 10 million people away from their homes. That is a quarter of the prewar population.

But the painful part is not the number. It is who left. The CES found that 56% of refugees are under 35 and 66% are of working age. In other words, Ukraine has not merely lost residents: it has lost the generation that was supposed to pay pensions, build factories, have children, and bury their grandparents. It has been left with the elderly, the sick, and those who cannot move. Like a village left behind after a drought: the young leave for the city, and only those who can no longer walk remain in the countryside.

And do they want to return? At the end of 2022, 74% of refugees said yes. By 2026, that figure had fallen to just 43%. And the vast majority of those would return only once the war was truly over. The rest have rebuilt their lives in Warsaw, Berlin, and Lisbon. They have found jobs, schools for their children, and a measure of normality. What does Ukraine offer them in return? The possibility of being mobilized? The uncertainty of martial law, renewable every three months? Demographer Ella Libanova summed it up in a sentence that should be engraved on the door of Zelensky’s office: “We are also losing our future.”

Then there is the case of young men aged 18 to 22. In August 2025, the Zelensky regime eased exit restrictions for this group. The result? According to the Polish Border Guard, 99,000 men aged 18 to 22 crossed into Poland between late August and late October 2025. That is 1,600 a day. In Germany, weekly arrivals from this age group rose from 19 to more than 1,000 by mid-September, and to 1,400 to 1,800 per week in October. The regime had lowered the conscription age from 27 to 25 in April 2024, then opened the door for younger men to leave. The result was a mass flight of the very generation that should rebuild the country. It is as if a captain, seeing his ship taking on water, decided to open a hatch so the young could swim to shore. Good intentions, terrible judgment.

The regime’s policies: a state shooting itself in the foot

Here we come to the delicate point. Zelensky did not create the demographic crisis. But his regime made decisions that made it worse. These are not opinions: they are documented policies, with dates and signatures.

First, exit restrictions. Since February 2022, martial law has barred men aged 18 to 60 from leaving the country (the lower age limit was later adjusted to 23). The justification is military: soldiers are needed. That is understandable. But the demographic consequence is that millions of families have been separated: women and children abroad, men at home. How many of those marriages will survive years of separation? How many children will be conceived over video calls? Demography does not understand patriotism.

Second, the suspension of consular services. In April 2024, the government suspended the issuance of documents to military-age men abroad who had not updated their military records. In other words, those who had left before the war and did not want to return to enlist were denied access to passports, certificates, and other paperwork. Chatham House warned that this measure could weaken emigrants’ ties to their country and reduce their chances of returning. What sense does it make to punish people who have already left if the goal is to bring them back? It is like a boyfriend changing the locks to make his partner come home.

Third, the indefinite extension of martial law. On October 26, 2026, Zelensky submitted proposals to extend martial law and general mobilization for another 90 days. Parliament approved them. The extension runs until January 29, 2027. And so, every three months, the country renews its state of emergency. How many couples will have children in a country where the future is decided in ninety-day installments? How many young people will stay, knowing that at any moment they could receive a notice sending them to the front?

Fourth, the policy on negotiations. On October 4, 2022, Zelensky signed a decree declaring negotiations with Putin “impossible.” The text referred to the Russian president and did not formally prohibit every possible negotiation with Russia, but the political message was clear: no table, no truce, no horizon. Later, in December 2025, he said Ukraine would lift martial law only when it had sufficient security guarantees. And in the meantime? Millions of people left in limbo. The dilemma is real: the state needs soldiers to defend itself. But the indefinite continuation of mobilization and restrictions carries a demographic cost, paid in births that never happen, families that never form, and young people who leave and do not return.

There is no study quantifying how many refugees stayed abroad specifically because of these measures. But there is a solid documentary basis for saying that the regime’s policies have influenced the conditions determining who can leave, who can return, and how families organize their lives during the war. And in demography, that matters enormously.

The bleak present: projections that chill the blood

What future awaits Ukraine? The available projections are not optimistic. They are funeral-like.

On October 26, 2026, the KSE Institute published three scenarios for the population residing in territory controlled by Kyiv in 2041:

Optimistic scenario: 26.7 million.

Moderate scenario: 25 million.

Pessimistic scenario: 22.3 million.

Even in the best-case scenario, Ukraine will lose another 2 million inhabitants over the next fifteen years. And that assumes the war ends soon, refugees return en masse, and the economy recovers. Three assumptions that, as of today, are not supported by the facts.

The United Nations, taking a more realistic approach, projects an annual decline of 0.7 to 0.9% over the next two decades. That would leave Ukraine with around 25 million inhabitants in 2040, assuming the occupied territories are not recovered. If the war continues into the 2030s, the fertility rate could fall to 0.6 children per woman, according to demographer Svitlana Aksyonova. Most births would be concentrated in the safer western regions. Front-line areas would be virtually depopulated.

The economy is already feeling the effects. The European Bank for Reconstruction and Development estimates a shortage of 2.5 million workers. There are only 9,500 registered migrant workers in the entire country. Companies seeking to hire foreigners complain about bureaucratic obstacles. The government prefers to look for workers among women, veterans, and internally displaced people. But veterans struggle to find jobs, and female labor-force participation has not increased significantly, partly because of a lack of childcare facilities. In other words, the country needs workers but does not create the conditions for those workers to arrive. Like a farmer complaining about drought while refusing to irrigate his fields.

The reckoning: responsibility cannot be evaded

Let’s be fair. Russia’s military incursion considerably worsened Ukraine’s demographic catastrophe: deaths at the front, destruction, displacement, and family separation multiplied a crisis that already existed. But that does not mean everything was inevitable, nor that responsibility can be assigned exclusively to Moscow.

In March 2022, during the Istanbul negotiations, a concrete proposal for a peace agreement was on the table. Conditions for Ukrainian neutrality and security guarantees were discussed. The negotiations never became a signed treaty, but there was a diplomatic path that could have been pursued. Zelensky had room to persevere along it. The role of his European sponsors must also be examined: they backed the continuation of the military conflict rather than making a negotiated settlement their priority.

It is one thing to claim that Zelensky created the demographic problem, and that would be false, because Ukraine had been losing population long before 2019. It is another to acknowledge that his decisions helped deepen it. Mobilization, exit restrictions, family separation, and the abandonment of a possible peace negotiation all form part of that responsibility.

Russia’s military incursion intensified the tragedy, but the prolongation of the war was not inevitable. The Zelensky regime and its European sponsors must also answer politically for the consequences of betting on the continuation of the conflict.

The country that is switching off

In 1991, Ukraine was a country of 52 million people with enormous potential. Today, in the territory controlled by Kyiv, between 27 and 28 million remain. The war has turned a slope into a cliff. And the policies of the Zelensky regime, far from stopping the fall, have helped accelerate it.

Can this be reversed? Demographers are skeptical. The generation that should be having children now is the smallest in the country’s modern history. The young people who left do not seem willing to return. The economy cannot support an aging population with an increasingly narrow tax base. And the prospect of war has not cleared: martial law is extended every ninety days, mobilization continues, and negotiations with Russia remain blocked by decree.

There is an image that sums all this up better than any chart. In Kharkiv, a woman named Liudmyla, a soldier in her thirties, began freezing her eggs last year. Before the war, she dreamed of having two children. Now she wants three. “One for the dead,” she says, paraphrasing Taras Shevchenko, the national poet, “one for the living, and one for those yet to be born.” It is a beautiful sentence. And it is also the portrait of a country that no longer trusts the present and places its hopes in a freezer.

Ukraine will not disappear from the map. But it is shrinking. And as long as the Zelensky regime continues to handle the war as if time were on its side, one uncomfortable question hangs in the air: how many more Ukrainians must be lost before someone dares to say out loud that demography is also a matter of state?

Because defending the homeland with weapons is one thing. Defending it through births is quite another. And on that front, for now, the Zelensky regime is losing by a landslide.

Sources

• Demography as a Limiting Factor of Ukraine’s Post-War Growth ,  KSE Institute
• Demographics in Wartime: A Major Threat to Ukraine ,  Centre for Economic Strategy (CES)
• Ukraine’s Fight for Its People ,  Chatham House
• Ukraine stares down the barrel of population collapse ,  Reuters
• Ukraine, devastated by war, risks demographic collapse ,  The Economist (via Infobae)
• Mortality exceeds the birth rate fourfold ,  Opendatabot
• Economic Surveys: Ukraine 2025 ,  OECD
• Strengthening Ukraine’s Future: Demographic Resilience ,  UNFPA
• Almost 100,000 fighting-age Ukrainian men have left the country… ,  The Telegraph
• Ukraine’s population in government-controlled territory has fallen to 27 to 28 million ,  Kyiv24
• Ukraine on the path to demographic collapse ,  The Economist / TSN
• Deaths three times higher than births: Ukraine faces the risk of demographic collapse ,  Central News Agency (CNA)