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Thematic Article
Portraits in exile: insights from displaced Ukrainian scholars in the UK
Abstract
This article examines forced academic migration by asking how displaced Ukrainian scholars reconstruct their careers and identities in exile. Drawing on survey data from 125 researchers-at-risk and follow-up interviews, it analyses participants’ demographic and disciplinary diversity, pathways into the UK, and configurations of institutional support. The findings reveal a strongly gendered pattern of mobility, with a majority of women arriving with children and navigating the dual pressures of caregiving and scholarly productivity. Host universities provide uneven assistance, shaping prospects for belonging and professional reintegration. Despite severe disruption, scholars demonstrate resilience and sustained intellectual contributions. By situating individual trajectories within broader logics of displacement, this portrait calls for more context-sensitive support for academic refugees and invites reflection on what it means to host, to belong, and to rebuild a scholarly life across borders and amidst crisis. This article is published in the thematic collection ‘Researchers at risk: the view from Ukrainians in the UK’.
Keywords
forced academic migrationresearchers-at-riskdisplacementinstitutional supportgendercaregivingUkraineIntroduction
War spares no one. The full-scale Russian invasion of Ukraine in February 2022 shattered millions of lives, forcing communities into displacement. Among those affected are scholars and researchers (Nikolaiev et al. 2023), many of whom are women balancing professional and caregiving responsibilities while striving to rebuild their academic careers far from home (Bulut 2022). Their experiences reveal how war disrupts not only institutions, but also gendered trajectories of knowledge production.
Academic displacement and exile have emerged as rapidly developing research areas (Axyonova et al. 2022; Altinkas 2023; Burlyuk & Rahbari 2023; Gallo 2024), with growing emphasis on displaced scholars’ agency. Understanding their needs is crucial: it strengthens academic identity, informs effective institutional support, and enables timely policy responses (Scholars at Risk 2020; Swiss National Science Foundation 2024). By the end of 2022, approximately 18.5 per cent of Ukrainian scientists had fled the country, many of whom were among Ukraine’s most research-active scholars (de Rassenfosse et al. 2023). The estimated 20,000–25,000 displaced researchers face evolving challenges shaped by war, relocation, shifting legal status, and host-institution integration (Maryl et al. 2022). These pressures are acutely gendered: for many women, mobility is constrained by childcare, separation from family, and the emotional toll of sustaining both home and scholarly life across borders.
Recent studies have begun to examine the needs of the displaced Ukrainian academic community (Mishchuk & Oliinyk 2022; Smahina 2022; Lutsenko et al. 2023; Jaroszewicz et al. 2025), yet as the war continues with no resolution in sight, their circumstances remain dynamic. Coping strategies and early support mechanisms may no longer suffice, while priorities and well-being continue to shift (Rose et al. 2024). To capture this change, researchers call for more longitudinal and context-sensitive data, including richer survey metadata and individual case tracking (Jaroszewicz et al. 2022; Lutsenko et al. 2023). Large-scale reports offer valuable overviews, but often overlook the nuanced, human dimensions of displacement (Ganguli & Waldinger 2023).
In this light, the British Academy’s Researchers-at-Risk (RaR) programme provides a timely opportunity to explore the lived academic, social, and emotional realities of displaced scholars in the UK (Plackett 2025). This initiative forms part of a long-standing humanitarian commitment to safeguarding intellectual life in times of crisis (Irish 2023). Since the 1930s, when organisations such as the Society for the Protection of Science and Learning (now CARA—the Council for At-Risk Academics) helped rescue endangered scholars fleeing Nazi persecution, the UK has stood out as a global advocate for academic freedom (Medawar & Pyke 2001; Kohn 2011; Marks et al. 2011; Nossum & Kotůlek 2015). That legacy continues today, with the British Academy at the forefront of coordinated national responses to academic displacement (Decker 2003; Efe 2023). Working in partnership with CARA, the Royal Society, the Academy of Medical Sciences, and the Royal Academy of Engineering, the RaR Fellowship sustains the scholarly contributions of Ukrainian academics facing war and forced migration.
This initiative also coincides with deepening bilateral academic ties between the UK and Ukraine (British Council 2025). In early 2025, the two countries signed a 100-Year Partnership Agreement, reinforcing their commitment to research collaboration even amid conflict (Office of the President of Ukraine 2025; Prime Minister’s Office 2025). Within this framework, the RaR Fellowship sustains scholarly contributions in exile and preserves academic capital (British Academy 2023).
As the three-year fellowship draws to a close for many Ukrainian scholars, urgent questions arise: What has this time meant, personally and professionally? What comes next? How might knowledge, networks, and resilience gained in exile serve the future of Ukrainian academia, British institutions, and global science?
This article engages with that context not by comprehensively evaluating the programme, but by focusing on a particular segment of experience: how Ukrainian scholars entered the programme; the demographic make-up of the cohort, including marked gender patterns; transitions from Ukrainian to UK institutions; the role of family circumstances in adaptation; and the nature of institutional support provided to scholars and accompanying family members. The aim is not to assess policy mechanisms, but to trace the human and gendered dimensions of academic displacement. In doing so, it offers a grounded portrait of 125 displaced Ukrainian RaR scholars, making visible the faces behind the fellowship and contributing to a more nuanced understanding of academic migration in wartime.
From questions to portraits: how this study evolved
This study did not begin as an attempt to draw a portrait. As a TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) specialist, I initially set out to explore how displaced Ukrainian scholars experience academic writing and the barriers they face in research publishing while in exile. The research was conducted within the framework of the SURE project (Writing for Research: Supporting Ukrainian Researchers in Exile in Developing Their Academic Writing), which aims to identify the English for Academic Purposes (EAP) and publishing needs of Ukrainian RaR Fellows in the UK and to explore practical avenues for supporting their scholarly development.
Although language and publishing challenges remained central to the project’s original scope, the research design also included questions on demographic background, disciplinary field, and institutional context. As I reviewed the collected data and reflected on informal conversations with peers, a broader narrative began to surface, extending beyond language. Themes of demographic imbalance, fragmented belonging, and resilience in exile emerged. Encouraged by my academic mentor, Professor Karin Tusting, I reframed the project to foreground these dimensions. What came into view was not only a dataset, but a collective portrait—textured, complex, and deeply human. The aim of this study is to trace the demographic, disciplinary, social, and professional contours of displaced Ukrainian RaR scholars in the UK. It asks: What do the demographic profiles and institutional affiliations of displaced Ukrainian academics reveal about adaptation and continuity in academic exile? Questions of linguistic challenges in research writing, while significant, lie beyond the scope of this paper and will be addressed in future work.
Thus, the study uses a mixed-methods design to explore the lived academic experiences of Ukrainian researchers displaced by war and supported through the British Academy’s Researchers-at-Risk Fellowship. Combining quantitative and qualitative survey analysis with follow-up interviews, it offers a collective profile of 125 scholars in exile. The survey was conducted online in October–November 2024 using Microsoft Forms. It was distributed to 177 Ukrainian researchers who arrived in the UK after 24 February 2022 with support from the British Academy and CARA. A total of 125 responses were received (response rate: 70.6 per cent), indicating strong engagement within the cohort. Distribution was facilitated through the Early Career Researchers Network (ECRN), personal contacts, and snowball sampling. The survey included multiple-choice, Likert-scale, and open-ended questions on gender, age, field of research, position, sending and host institutions, date of arrival in the UK, and mobility experience.
At the end of the survey, participants were invited to follow-up interviews. Seventy-one out of 125 respondents (56.8 per cent) agreed. While no direct inquiry was made into their motivations, it might be assumed that many were keen to share their experiences or sought some support. As one participant later wrote in a follow-up email: ‘Thank you for the thoughtful conversation and for the chance to reflect on the scholarly side of life over the past few years.’
The interview phase took place in May–June 2025. I aimed to include participants of varying disciplines, genders, and age groups to reflect the diversity of the cohort. Despite strong initial interest, some invitees later became unavailable due to shifting personal and professional commitments. In the end, fifteen semi-structured interviews were conducted via Microsoft Teams with in-built recording and transcription. Interviews were offered in Ukrainian, Russian, or English, depending on preference; few chose Russian, while the majority opted for Ukrainian. As a researcher, I accommodated all linguistic choices to ensure a safe and open conversation space. Out of the fifteen interviews conducted, eleven participants were women and four were men. A few male scholars declined to be interviewed, citing heavy workloads or without providing a reason. While I aimed for some balance, this gendered participation mirrors broader patterns in wartime mobility, with women disproportionately carrying the burden of displacement, caregiving, and professional continuity.
To protect participants’ identities, I assigned each interviewee a randomly selected alphabetical letter pseudonym. Full anonymity cannot be guaranteed, as some readers, particularly fellow programme participants, may recognise those quoted. To safeguard confidentiality, I do not disclose specific disciplines, as many are unique within the cohort. Instead, I refer to each participant by gender, age, letter, and broader disciplinary area: Humanities and Social Sciences (HSS) or Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics (STEM).
The conversations, although guided by a semi-structured protocol, often unfolded into deeply personal narratives, far beyond the initial prompts. Thematic analysis was used to interpret both interview transcripts and open-ended survey responses (Braun & Clarke 2022), allowing patterns to emerge inductively around academic continuity, adaptation, and identity. My own position, as both researcher and displaced scholar, inevitably shaped the process. Reflexive and autoethnographic elements became part of the narrative, adding depth to the analysis. Informal exchanges during British Academy and ECRN events further contextualised the findings, while the inclusion of participants’ direct voices offered a textured, human portrait of scholarly resilience in exile. The quotations provided in the article are either translated into English by the author of this paper or are presented without changes in the respondents’ English version, ensuring the confidentiality and maintenance of ethical considerations.
Although I had initially envisioned these interviews as a minor, supplemental phase, the level of engagement proved otherwise. Several conversations lasted well beyond the expected 30–60 min, with one extending over three hours. Many participants shared highly personal stories, often prefaced with: ‘You must know how it feels …’ As a displaced academic myself, their words resonated deeply with me. In one interview, I could not hold back my tears. These moments revealed how trust, shared experience, and emotional openness shaped the research encounter.
Ethical approval for the study was obtained from the Lancaster University ethics committee, who advised on design and consent procedures. Given the traumatic nature of participants’ experiences, the primary concern was to minimise distress and ensure that respondents retained agency and choice. Participants were reminded of their right to withdraw at any point. Many expressed a strong desire for their experiences to be heard and utilised both to facilitate their access to international academia and to inform the British Academy about the impact of its programmes for displaced academics. To understand who is represented in this study and why, it is essential to begin with an overview of the cohort’s demographic make-up.
Demographic profiles of RaR Fellows
Implications of gender and age
The gender and age composition of the 125 Ukrainian RaR Fellows surveyed reveals striking insights into how war, policy, and academic mobility intersect. While not entirely unexpected, the overwhelming majority of respondents identified as women—75.2 per cent (94 out of 125), with only 24 per cent (30 participants) identifying as men. One respondent (0.8 per cent) preferred not to disclose their gender, and no respondents identified as non-binary. This sharp gender imbalance (Figure 1) stands in stark contrast to pre-war statistics: in 2019, women constituted approximately 45 per cent of researchers in Ukraine—higher than the global average of 30 per cent (UNESCO Institute for Statistics 2019). One might assume that the cohort’s evident gender shift reflects not academic trends but some constraints imposed by wartime. This observation merits closer attention, and in what follows, I briefly outline the contextual factors that may help readers make sense of this disparity.
Figure 1.
Gender distribution of Surveyed RaR fellows (n = 125).
A donut chart of respondents’ gender, with four categories (n = 125). Female: 94 (75.2%). Male: 30 (24.0%). Prefer not to say/Other: 1 (0.8%). Non-binary: 0.
During martial law, Ukraine enforced restrictions on the departure of male citizens aged 18 to 60 according to the Cabinet of Ministers of Ukraine’s Resolution No. 57 (1995, with updates during wartime). Thus, since February 2022, Ukraine has imposed an exit ban on men aged 18 to 60, reserving their eligibility for conscription (State Border Guard Service of Ukraine 2022). This measure, though necessary from a national defence perspective, has profound implications for academic mobility. The RaR Fellowship, open to both male and female applicants, thus disproportionately includes women, not due to differences in merit or professional background, but as a direct result of gendered wartime policies. The pattern underlines the harsh truth that access to safety and career continuity becomes unevenly distributed. During war, this is a matter not only of academic credentials, but of gender, law, and circumstance.
This gendered pattern is not unique to the context of war but builds upon longer-standing structural inequalities in Ukrainian academia. As demonstrated by recent research (Ivashchenko & Kiselyova 2024), the post-Soviet academic landscape has witnessed a gradual feminisation, particularly in the humanities and social sciences, not due to enhanced gender equality, but largely because of male outflow from a chronically underfunded sector. Despite the numerical prevalence of women, men continue to dominate higher academic ranks, with women facing slower career progression due to systemic power imbalances and caregiving responsibilities. The current phase of the war has made these inequities more visible and acute, with female scholars disproportionately represented among displaced researchers, not only because of legal barriers to male mobility, but also because of entrenched gender roles and the marginalised status of women in academic leadership. Thus, the composition of the RaR cohort both reflects and amplifies these pre-existing patterns.
The cross-tabulation of gender and age among the 125 displaced Ukrainian academics, along with the age breakdown of male participants, provides further insight into the patterns of exemption and the constraints shaping academic mobility (see Figure 2; Table 1). A common assumption might be that the few men included in the cohort were primarily over the age of 60, given that this is one of the key legal exemptions from the wartime exit ban. However, the data suggest a more complex picture. Among the thirty male participants, only three were aged 55–64, and another three were over 65 (Table 1). This indicates that the majority (around 80 per cent) must have qualified under other legal grounds. In some cases, they may have left Ukraine before February 2022, secured fellowships while already abroad, or received permission to travel due to caregiving responsibilities, medical needs, or other officially recognised exemptions. These findings highlight the diverse and often non-transparent routes through which male scholars have managed to continue their academic work abroad under conditions of martial law.
Figure 2.
Age distribution of surveyed RaR fellows (n = 125).
A horizontal bar chart of respondents’ age groups (n = 125). 25–34 y.o.: 11.2% (14). 35–44 y.o.: 45.6% (57). 45–54 y.o.: 31.2% (39). 55–64 y.o.: 8% (10). Over 65 y.o.: 4% (5). 18–24 y.o.: 0% (0).
Table 1
Numerical breakdown of male RaR fellows by age group (n = 30).
| Age group | Number of male respondents | Proportion of all male respondents (%) |
|---|---|---|
| 25–34 | 2 | 6.7 |
| 35–44 | 11 | 36.7 |
| 45–54 | 11 | 36.7 |
| 55–64 | 3 | 10.0 |
| Over 65 | 3 | 10.0 |
| Total | 30 | 100 |
According to State Border Guard Service of Ukraine in 2022, men may leave the country legally if they fall into specific categories of exemption. These include individuals deemed unfit for military service due to health reasons, those with three or more dependent children under the age of 18, caregivers for persons with disabilities or seriously ill relatives, students of foreign universities (with supporting documentation), and those granted deferment or reservation from mobilisation due to their employment in critical sectors, including education and research (Pravovsim.org 2024).
In the latter case, university lecturers and researchers may cross the border if they are officially reserved by their institutions and the relevant state authorities for the period of mobilisation. To do so, they must carry appropriate documentation proving their exemption or deferment status, such as certificates from the Ministry of Education or military registration authorities. According to the Law of Ukraine, individuals employed as research or teaching staff, particularly those holding scientific degrees and working at least 0.75 full-time equivalent, are granted deferment from conscription (Verkhovna Rada of Ukraine 2015, 2024). These legal provisions reflect the state’s attempt to balance national defence needs with the continuity of essential sectors, including higher education and science (Cabinet of Ministers of Ukraine 1995, 2024).
As reflected in the survey data (Table 1), 20 per cent of male respondents (specifically, six out of thirty) were aged 55 or older, placing them outside the core mobilisation age group in Ukraine, which helps explain their ability to leave the country lawfully during martial law. Furthermore, the majority of men (73.4 per cent) were between 35 and 54, an age range commonly associated with established academic careers and potential eligibility for deferment from mobilisation due to their scientific qualifications and institutional roles. These data lend support to the assumption that many male academics were able to cross the border legally by meeting one or more exemption criteria outlined in Ukrainian legislation.
Gendered realities in wartime academia
This observation was also echoed in the follow-up interviews. Among the fifteen participants I spoke with, four were men. While I did not directly ask about their reasons for leaving Ukraine, recognising the sensitivity of such matters, each chose, unprompted, to clarify or allude to the legitimacy of their departure. Their comments reflected an awareness of the potential scrutiny surrounding male mobility and a desire to underscore that they had met the legal requirements for crossing the border under martial law.
These interview reflections illuminate broader demographic patterns. During wartime, opportunities for academic mobility have been shaped not only by scholarly credentials, but also by gendered constraints. Women, more likely to be exempt from conscription, have found themselves disproportionately represented in international fellowships, often carrying the weight of exile, research continuity, and national representation abroad.
Meanwhile, many Ukrainian academics have chosen to remain in the country or voluntarily join the Armed Forces, despite being legally exempt as academic staff. These decisions reflect a profound sense of civic duty. According to Ukraine’s WINWIN: Global Innovation Strategy 2030, more than 1,500 researchers and lecturers mobilised of their own volition (Cabinet of Ministers of Ukraine 2024). Additionally, the 2024 report ‘Academia in Ukraine in Times of War: Understanding the Status’ found that approximately 5.1 per cent of Ukrainian academics have served in the Armed Forces since the full-scale invasion began. This figure, based on a survey of 1,720 respondents across twelve regions, underscores the far-reaching impact of the war on the academic community (Science at Risk 2024). These examples speak to the multiple forms of resilience and contribution by Ukrainian scholars, whether through continued intellectual labour in exile or active service on the front lines.
Among the participants of this study there also are scholars with first-hand military experience, some having served as early as 2014, when the initial phase of Russian aggression began. This male participant I. (aged 56, HSS) recalled:
At that time, I was Vice-Rector for Research and International Affairs at my university. […] And, out of patriotic motives, I enlisted in the Armed Forces of Ukraine, but unfortunately, my health turned out to be weaker than I would have liked. […] I didn’t take part in combat. I worked in maintenance because the equipment was in extremely poor condition then. […] I was eventually demobilised due to health problems, spending the last few months in hospital.
Reflecting on perceptions of those not currently serving, he added:
I hope this helps you a little to answer the question who served and where, and why they are not serving now, and instead … well … knocking on the doors … somewhere in Great Britain.
Asked if he knew other academics who joined the army, he said:
Yes, [I know one], he’s a department head and still serves. Maybe my example impressed him … or inspired. … There are many patriotic-minded scholars in Ukraine.
This brief testimony offers a personal lens on the complex decisions and sacrifices made by academic professionals in times of war.
Other interviewees shared perspectives shaped by their families’ direct involvement in the full-scale war. Female participant L. (48, STEM), an academic whose husband (an academic physicist) and son have both served in the Armed Forces of Ukraine since the full-scale invasion began in February 2022, reflected on how this dual reality of scholarship and frontline service has affected her personally and professionally. L. shared:
My colleagues, my acquaintances [among academics], joined the Territorial Defence Forces voluntarily, following a call of conscience. I know a couple more people like that. One of them even died in 2023. I know those who went to war on their own … both younger guys and older people.
This reflection shifts from her broader professional circle to her immediate family, offering a powerful glimpse into the sacrifices behind the statistics:
With my husband, the situation is very straightforward. … He’s 55 … closer to old age than youth. Theoretically, he had a deferral, since he was working full-time at the institute. But he and our son immediately queued up at the military enlistment office. … He’s [husband] got a ton of health issues. … But he was deemed fit for service without any restrictions [bitter smile]. … But it’s hard to judge. … He could’ve submitted a resignation letter. … But he’s a real man—he didn’t do that. As he said: ‘I’m a man, not some pathetic excuse.’ They [husband and son] are both men of principle: there’s the law, there are rules. … Now he’s completely grey-haired like the moon …
Emotion finally breaks through the account as L. describes the price of this choice:
[with tears in her eyes] I’m scared for him, but I’m proud. By the way, he was awarded the Cossack Cross for combat [proudly]. That’s something they give specifically for combat operations. He was wounded and is officially recognised as a combatant.
These words offer a glimpse into the painful divide many Ukrainian scholars endure. While continuing her academic work in Britain and caring for her elderly parents in exile, this participant lives with the daily reality that both her husband and son are serving on the front lines in Ukraine. Her enduring heartbreak echoes a broader pattern: the gendered burden of displacement, where many women academics must balance professional duties with emotional labour for families fractured by war. This dual load has also been documented in recent qualitative studies of Ukrainian women scholars in exile, revealing how structural inequalities are intensified in times of crisis and migration (Ivashchenko & Kiselyova 2024).
Across the cohort, female participants spoke of carrying dual academic and caregiving responsibilities amid uncertainty, fear, and fatigue. Their stories, often interwoven with guilt and resilience, remind us how profoundly the political becomes personal in wartime exile. Additionally, the majority of the participants arrived in the UK with family members, most commonly with children and/or a spouse, and even parents. This dimension of displacement, though often under-examined, significantly shaped their academic possibilities and emotional resilience in exile. Thus, these demographic realities are not just background statistics. Age and gender, shaped by law, mobility, and care responsibilities, determine who receives international support and who does not. Understanding these patterns is essential to this study’s broader aim: exploring how displaced scholars adapt and carry forward the mission of knowledge under unprecedented conditions. As we turn to institutional affiliations and disciplinary areas, these demographic insights provide a vital foundation for understanding the professional landscapes in which RaR fellows now find themselves.
Academic profiles of RaR fellows
Institutional affiliation and disciplinary area
The demographic positioning is further shaped by the geographic distribution of the respondents, adding another layer to understanding their professional trajectories in both Ukraine and the UK. The question ‘What is your institution in Ukraine?’ reflects their last place of employment before displacement, their current affiliation in Ukraine, or institutions with which they maintain academic ties. The institutional affiliations of the surveyed scholars reflect a broad geographic distribution across Ukraine, revealing both the national scale of displacement and regional disparities in academic infrastructure. While 125 participants named institutions in Ukraine, these affiliations range from major urban universities to smaller regional centres.
Kyiv stands out, with 48 responses (38.4 per cent), highlighting its centrality to the Ukrainian academic landscape. For analytical clarity, Kyiv is presented separately from central Ukraine due to its high concentration of responses and its unique status as the national academic and administrative centre (Figure 3). Respondents were affiliated primarily with leading institutions, such as Taras Shevchenko National University and Kyiv-Mohyla Academy, as well as national research institutes. This is followed by eastern Ukraine, especially Kharkiv (20 responses), home to V.N. Karazin Kharkiv National University and Kharkiv National Medical University. Other cities in the east, including Dnipro, Donetsk, Zaporizhia, Melitopol, and Horlivka, are represented by smaller numbers, but their inclusion underscores how the war has disrupted academic life even in frontline and occupied territories.
Figure 3.
Geographic distribution of Ukrainian RaR fellows’ home institutional affiliation (n = 125).
A horizontal bar chart of respondents’ region of home institutional affiliation (n = 125). Kyiv: 38.4% (48). Eastern Ukraine: 23.2% (29). Western Ukraine: 12.8% (16). Southern Ukraine: 7.2% (9). Northern & Central Ukraine: 6.4% (8). Prefer not to say/Other: 12.0% (15).
The western regions account for 12.8 per cent of responses, particularly Lviv (7), and include institutions in Ternopil, Lutsk, Chernivtsi, Drohobych, and Ivano-Frankivsk. These areas, while less dominant in numbers, played a critical role in hosting internally displaced institutions and scholars during earlier stages of the conflict. Southern Ukraine, with scholars from Odesa (6) and Mykolaiv (1), and two Crimean institutions now operating in exile, also features in the dataset, further illustrating the national scope of disruption. Northern and central regions outside Kyiv, such as Sumy, Chernihiv, Poltava, and Cherkasy, together account for 6.4 per cent of the sample.
In total, researchers from Kyiv, Kharkiv, Lviv, and Odesa make up 65 per cent of responses, pointing to the prominence of these academic hubs and, perhaps, to greater access to international networks and English-language resources prior to displacement. The data also shed light on institutional types: while 89 scholars (71.2 per cent) were affiliated with educational institutions, 24 came from research-only entities (19.2 per cent), suggesting that the war has disrupted both teaching and research infrastructures.
The geographic distribution of institutional affiliations among RaR fellows is far from even: most scholars were affiliated with institutions in Kyiv, and eastern, and western Ukraine, while responses from central, southern, and northern regions were far fewer. As shown in Figure 3, Kyiv accounts for the highest number of respondents (48), followed by eastern Ukraine (29), with a noticeable drop in representation from western (16), southern (9), and northern and central (8). Fifteen respondents preferred not to say or indicated no specific institutional affiliation, either due to concerns about disclosure and potential risks, or because their academic ties were disrupted or uncertain as a result of institutional relocation, personal displacement, occupation of their home region, or pending contract confirmation.
Although scholars from eastern and southern Ukraine do not numerically dominate the dataset, their visibility remains significant, especially when considered in light of the disproportionate war-related disruption in those regions. These areas were among the earliest and hardest hit by the full-scale invasion, which may have both prompted earlier displacement and interrupted academic activity more severely. At the same time, the strong showing from Kyiv likely reflects its pre-war concentration of academic institutions and international connections.
This uneven distribution also intersects with the trajectories of institutional displacement within Ukraine. Some respondents had previously been affiliated with universities that were themselves relocated from frontline regions to safer areas like Kyiv. Yet, as the war intensified, even these new host cities became vulnerable, prompting some scholars to seek refuge abroad. In several cases, this led to a double displacement—first alongside their institutions, and then as individuals. These complex journeys reflect the broader transformation of Ukrainian academia under siege, where institutional and personal displacements intertwine. As recent scholarship on reinvented university architectures suggests, the war has not only redrawn academic geographies but also redefined what it means to be affiliated, rooted, or mobile in the scholarly world (Vitrukh & Koro 2025).
It is also important to note that the majority of participants left Ukraine nearly three years ago. As such, the data reflect an earlier stage of displacement, and current regional representation might look quite different. Eastern and southern Ukraine have long endured the consequences of war, with evacuations and academic disruptions beginning early in the full-scale invasion. In contrast, northeastern regions are now emerging as particularly vulnerable, with scholars there facing heightened uncertainty and urgent needs for support. As frontlines shift, so does the geography of academic displacement, and attention must follow.
Building on this geographic and institutional context, the respondents’ disciplinary affiliations offer further insight into their academic identity in exile. Among the 125 RaR fellows, the spectrum of disciplinary expertise is remarkably broad, ranging from highly technical STEM fields to critical humanities and applied social sciences. A substantial 68.8 per cent of respondents identified with HSS, with common fields including linguistics, history, political science, law, and education, many of which align closely with topics of direct relevance to displacement, language policy, international law, and migration. Thirty-nine (31.2 per cent) participants represented STEM disciplines, with medicine, artificial intelligence, and environmental sciences featuring prominently. This disciplinary richness underscores both the intellectual diversity and international orientation of Ukraine’s pre-war academic landscape.
A closer look reveals distinctive gendered patterns in disciplinary backgrounds. Male respondents represented a wide and non-overlapping range of highly specialised fields, including natural and applied sciences (for example, genetics, theoretical physics, nanotechnology, AI), engineering (for example, transportation systems, energy economics), and disciplines such as law, history, journalism, and religious studies. Each listed a unique research area, suggesting fragmented and individualised pathways into exile.
By contrast, female scholars, who make up the majority of the cohort, showed more disciplinary clustering, especially within HSS. Fields such as law, linguistics, literature, economics, translation studies, education, political science, gender studies, and sociology appear with greater frequency. At the same time, many women also reported STEM-related expertise, including architecture, biochemistry, civil engineering, mathematics, and IT. This strong female representation in STEM reflects long-standing trends in Ukrainian higher education, where women have historically had greater access to scientific and technical fields than in many Western systems (Ukraine.ua 2023).
Figure 4 visualises these gendered disciplinary distributions. While women dominate the overall cohort, their presence is especially strong in HSS. Men, by contrast, are very evenly distributed between HSS and STEM fields. One respondent preferred not to disclose their gender, a marginal yet important nuance in profiling the cohort.
Figure 4.
Gender distribution across HSS and STEM fields among Ukrainian RaR fellows (n = 125).
A clustered bar chart showing respondents’ disciplinary field by gender (n = 125). In Humanities & Social Sciences (HSS): Female – 56.8% (71), Male – 12.0% (15). In STEM fields: Female – 19.2% (24), Male – 12.0% (15).
This pattern mirrors long-standing dynamics within Ukrainian academia, where the social sciences and humanities have become increasingly feminised often due to lower remuneration and status compared to STEM fields (Ivashchenko & Kiselyova 2024). Structural barriers, hierarchical academic cultures, and the persistence of gendered expectations regarding caregiving continue to shape women’s trajectories in both national and transnational contexts. This distribution aligns with broader global trends in academic labour, where women are often over-represented in the social sciences and under-represented in STEM. Against this backdrop, the under-representation of women in STEM among the RaR fellows may stem not only from wartime mobility constraints, but also from deeper structural inequalities: limited access to international networks, male-dominated STEM environments, and fewer institutional pathways for relocation in lab-based or resource-intensive disciplines.
One reason for the high visibility of female scholars in HSS among displaced Ukrainian academics may lie in the nature of HSS research itself, which is often more portable and less dependent on physical infrastructure than laboratory-based STEM work. The ability to carry out research with minimal technical resources makes it more feasible to continue academic activity in exile, especially for those balancing caregiving responsibilities or navigating rapid relocation. Moreover, many HSS scholars, particularly in fields like linguistics, education, political science, and law, possess strong English-language skills and are accustomed to writing, teaching, and collaborating across linguistic boundaries. This linguistic capital often translates into greater access to international calls, networks, and funding schemes. In addition, disciplinary cultures in HSS tend to be more embedded in transnational civil society frameworks. Such areas as human rights, migration, and education are highly mobilised in times of war. These intersecting factors help explain why women in HSS may have been both more visible and more mobile in seeking academic refuge abroad.
Gendered patterns of displacement should also be understood within the broader context of war-related displacement and martial law restrictions, which have limited the international mobility of many male academics. As a result, the visibility of women in exile may reflect not only their concentration in certain fields but also differentiated constraints on movement. Together, these findings highlight the multidisciplinary strength and gendered contours of Ukraine’s displaced academic community. While male scholars illustrate the broad sectoral impact of war on individual academic trajectories, female scholars exemplify how gendered labour structures continue to shape academic visibility, mobility, and vulnerability in exile. These dynamics carry important implications for the design of support mechanisms that recognise disciplinary isolation, field-specific barriers and the unequal burdens of scholarly displacement.
Scholarly attainment and career stage
To deepen the analysis of cohort composition, the next aspect to consider is academic seniority and qualifications. Responses to the question ‘What is your highest academic degree?’ (Figure 5) demonstrate the proportion of academic qualifications among participants, highlighting that the majority (69 per cent) hold a PhD, while 26 per cent have achieved the Doctor of Sciences degree, which is a postdoctoral qualification specific to post-Soviet academic systems and a higher academic rank in Ukraine. A small proportion (5 per cent) reported other qualifications, including Habilitated Doctor of Philosophy, Master’s degrees (MA, MS), and pre-doctoral statuses, such as PhD candidates or a Candidate of Sciences (broadly equivalent to a PhD).
Figure 5.
Distribution of academic qualifications among Ukrainian RaR fellows (n = 125).
A donut chart of respondents’ highest academic degree (n = 125). PhD: 68.8% (86); Doctor of Sciences: 26.4% (33); Other: 4.8% (6).
These findings reflect a cohort with a remarkably high level of scholarly attainment. This is not a group of early-career researchers (ECRs), but rather a highly experienced academic community, many of whom likely held senior or leadership roles prior to displacement. Their qualifications reinforce the cohort’s potential not only as recipients of support but as valuable contributors to host institutions, capable of active engagement in research, supervision, and academic leadership.
The prominence of Doctor of Sciences holders within the group further suggests that a significant portion of the displaced scholars had attained advanced levels of academic authority in Ukraine, including positions such as department heads or full professors. Their absence from Ukrainian institutions represents a profound loss of intellectual capital and institutional continuity. At the same time, their presence in the UK and other host countries opens opportunities for international collaboration, disciplinary bridge-building, and longer-term transnational partnerships.
Importantly, the seniority of this group has implications for the kinds of support they require. Unlike early-career academics or doctoral students, many of these scholars need professional environments that acknowledge their existing expertise, offering opportunities for meaningful integration—not just as learners or fellows, but as research collaborators, mentors, and knowledge producers. Support mechanisms must be flexible and context-sensitive, recognising the value these scholars can bring to academic life in exile.
Finally, the advanced academic standing of these individuals positions them as key actors in the potential reconstruction and revitalisation of Ukraine’s higher education sector post-war. Ensuring their academic continuity, well-being, and access to research infrastructure during exile is not only an urgent humanitarian concern but a strategic investment in Ukraine’s scientific and institutional resilience.
At the same time, while the formal qualifications of the RaR cohort clearly place most participants outside the conventional category of ECRs with 95 per cent holding a PhD or Doctor of Sciences degree, a more nuanced picture emerges when considering their international exposure. As shown in Figure 6, only 22.4 per cent of participants had prior experience of residential fellowships or academic work in English-speaking countries before joining the BA RaR programme. This lack of earlier international engagement suggests that, despite their seniority in national academic systems, many scholars were navigating global academia for the first time.
Figure 6.
International experience among Ukrainian RaR fellows before joining the programme (n = 125).
A donut chart showing respondents’ prior international experience (n = 125). No prior international experience: 77.6% (97); prior international experience: 22.4% (28).
In this respect, their trajectories often mirror those of ECRs, particularly in terms of building international research visibility, learning to communicate effectively in global scholarly networks, and developing confidence in publishing in high-impact international journals. This hybrid positioning of being senior in academic status but emergent in international presence calls for tailored support that not only recognises their expertise but also addresses the challenges of late internationalisation. Such insights are critical for designing support mechanisms that go beyond funding, offering mentorship, training in research communication, and structured pathways into international academic networks.
This notion of partial early-career status is further nuanced by the participants’ academic positions in Ukraine. While the majority hold advanced degrees (either PhD or Doctor of Sciences), their formal roles within Ukrainian academia vary significantly. As shown in Figure 7, 40 per cent of respondents are Associate Professors and 19 per cent hold full Professorships. The remaining 42 per cent fall into the ‘Other’ category, likely encompassing researchers without permanent academic appointments or those who have severed formal ties with their home institutions prior to or during displacement.
Figure 7.
Distribution of Ukrainian RaR fellows’ academic positions held in Ukraine (n = 125).
A donut chart showing respondents’ academic positions in Ukraine (n = 125). Associate Professor: 41.6% (52); Professor: 18.4% (23); Other positions: 40% (50).
Among those who selected ‘Other’ (Figure 7), some currently work in non-academic roles, such as project management or engineering, reflecting a forced departure from academic pathways. Others had to put their academic careers on hold. One respondent noted with visible resignation: ‘I suspended my contract with the university for the duration of the war, and I was denied academic mobility.’ Another, who previously held a senior role, shared: ‘I have no position in Ukraine since I started my fellowship in the UK. The last position was Leading Researcher.’
For some, displacement discontinued all ties with their Ukrainian institutions. These were obviously the most traumatic journeys from frontline regions or territories under occupation. One scholar shared bluntly: ‘I left my university after it was occupied in February 2022.’ These experiences often involved abrupt and painful ruptures, shaped by external forces beyond their control.
In other cases, the disconnection was the result of a conscious decision to disengage from the Ukrainian academic system. As two participants stated with visible resignation: ‘Finished with academia at home’ and ‘I don’t have any relations with universities in Ukraine.’ The brief, stark phrases capture the emotional toll of displacement and the sense of irreversibility it brought to some academic lives.
Some scholars sought to maintain their academic ties across borders but encountered structural limitations. Participant N. (40, HSS), for example, shared in the interview that she had approached the rector of her home institution to request a continued formal affiliation, suggesting that her publications abroad could still reflect the university’s name and contribute to its international standing. The proposal was declined on the basis that Ukrainian legislation does not allow affiliation without a full-time employment contract. Her case illustrates how institutional rigidity and outdated administrative frameworks can impede meaningful transnational collaboration, especially in times of crisis, when more mobility-responsive approaches are most needed.
These narratives highlight the fragility of displaced academic status and underscore the importance of initiatives like the British Academy RaR programme in preserving research continuity. Without formal institutional affiliation, many scholars face challenges in publishing, securing funding, and planning their academic futures. The data speak to a critical need for sustained international support, not only to provide temporary refuge but also to enable long-term reintegration and recognition of expertise.
Navigating displacement
Individual journeys into the RaR Programme
To better understand how scholars with such diverse profiles accessed academic refuge, we now turn to their individual pathways into the programme. Whether forged through formal channels, informal networks, or sheer persistence, these pathways illuminate the hidden labour involved in transforming crisis into opportunity and the structural barriers many faced along the way.
The journeys that led participants to the Researchers-at-Risk programme were rarely linear. Interview accounts reveal a complex mix of urgency, agency, and improvisation as displaced Ukrainian scholars explored new academic terrain under extraordinary pressure. Many scholars took initiatives to search for opportunities independently, often navigating an unfamiliar and fast-evolving landscape of support, still being in war-tortured Ukraine. As participant D. (35, HSS) described:
I found Science for Ukraine [Facebook community] […] they connected British academics with Ukrainians … and this guy said: look, there’s this programme. And he recommended his colleague from my current university, where we actually met online and decided to apply.
Another case reflects both initiative on the part of displaced scholars and the openness of UK institutions in facilitating academic placements, at least in some cases. The use of existing professional materials, such as textbooks, served as a bridge to initiating mentorships, underscoring the importance of academic networks, however informal. This female participant A. (57, HSS) recalled that she
wrote to the Head of Department, who replied to me the same day and said: ‘Please, choose anyone you’d like to collaborate with.’ So I went back to the university website, looked more closely at the list of staff, and one name immediately caught my eye—I had been using his textbooks with my students. I wrote to him right away! He replied the next day!
Yes, it was very easy. They were very responsive and supported me very quickly.
Some participants have already been engaged in joint research with their host institution before applying. As a senior researcher E. (61, STEM) explained: ‘I was here with my family approximately from the beginning of August 2022. We were already conducting collaborative work when I heard of the programme and decided to apply.’
For others, the programme emerged later, after initial displacement. Several participants arrived in Britain through the Homes for Ukraine scheme and only began seeking academic pathways once partially resettled. For scholar B. (48, HSS), who had briefly returned to Kyiv in search of stability, it was renewed missile attacks that forced her back to the UK. After struggling to secure opportunities through cold emails, she turned to in-person networking at conferences and professional forums. These efforts led to a pivotal encounter with a member of the Scottish parliament. Moved by her story, he wrote to two universities on her behalf; both responded promptly and offered support. As she reflected: ‘I realised that networking is extremely important. … I can actually say that it was thanks to this that I was able to continue my career here.’
Informal ties often proved more effective than official channels. Participant C. (42, HSS) spoke of long-standing collaboration with a UK-based colleague who contacted her directly after the invasion offering every possible help. Their personal connection played a decisive role in her academic relocation—finding a mentor, host institution, and even accommodation. Describing the process, she said: ‘It was like … someone knew someone and gave advice […] That’s what worked—this gypsy mail.’ She added with a smile: ‘I call it social capital. That’s what worked for me.’
Searching for opportunities was not always straightforward. In several cases, family decisions preceded the academic move. Spouses fluent in English or focused on securing safety for children often relocated first, shaping the scholar’s eventual trajectory. The urgency of war and instability of displacement deeply influenced these decisions. One researcher, F. (48, HSS), reflected on the emotional toll of being left behind: ‘I was completely alone, you know, the effect of an empty nest …’ While his family sought refuge abroad, he remained internally displaced within Ukraine, grappling with relocation and academic uncertainty in isolation. His search for opportunities became an exhausting and prolonged effort. ‘I don’t know what to compare it with. … Like Edison, who spent 20 years inventing the lightbulb. Every weekday I spent 3–4 hours online just on this.’ His account captures the persistence and emotional strain behind navigating fragmented systems of academic support.
These varied pathways were rarely linear. Personal resilience, professional networks, digital platforms, and institutional goodwill all played roles. But, above all, it was individual determination that enabled scholars to turn rupture into renewal. Yet entering the programme was only the beginning. Once accepted, participants encountered a new set of opportunities and constraints shaped by the specific characteristics of their host institutions.
Institutional placement and support
If the journey into the programme relied heavily on individual initiative and informal networks, the UK host institutions as destinations bring institutional responsibility into sharper focus. These new academic environments, where displaced scholars continue their careers under the mentorship of local academics, vary widely in status, research culture, and disciplinary orientation. As such, they play a critical role in shaping not only the opportunities available, but also the scope and quality of support afforded to scholars in exile.
As shown in Table 2, Ukrainian researchers are distributed across a wide range of British academic institutions. Prestigious research universities, such as the University of Cambridge (7 fellows), University of Oxford (6), University of Birmingham (5), and University of Manchester (4), host a significant number of fellows, reflecting the programme’s academic calibre and the strength of host-institution networks. These institutions, many of which are members of the Russell Group, offer access to advanced research infrastructure, global scholarly networks, and more favourable publishing opportunities.
Table 2
UK universities ranking according to the number of Ukrainian RAR fellows hosted (n = 125).
| University | Number of fellows |
|---|---|
| University of Cambridge | 7 |
| University of Oxford | 6 |
| University of Birmingham | 5 |
| Loughborough University | 4 |
| Newcastle University | 4 |
| University of Bristol | 4 |
| University of Glasgow | 4 |
| University of Manchester | 4 |
| University of Nottingham | 4 |
| University of Stirling | 4 |
| Birmingham City University | 3 |
| Cardiff University | 3 |
| King’s College London | 3 |
| Queen Mary University of London | 3 |
| University of Edinburgh | 3 |
| University of Warwick | 3 |
| Brunel University London | 2 |
| Lancaster University | 2 |
| Royal Veterinary College | 2 |
| University of Aberdeen | 2 |
| University of Dundee | 2 |
| University of Leeds | 2 |
| University of Sussex | 2 |
| University of York | 2 |
| Anglia Ruskin University | 1 |
| Aston University | 1 |
| Canterbury Christ Church University (CCCU) | 1 |
| Coventry University | 1 |
| Imperial College London | 1 |
| Keele University | 1 |
| Kingston University | 1 |
| London Metropolitan University | 1 |
| Middlesex University London | 1 |
| Royal Central School of Speech & Drama | 1 |
| Royal Holloway, University of London | 1 |
| Sheffield Hallam University | 1 |
| University College London | 1 |
| University for the Creative Arts | 1 |
| University of East Anglia | 1 |
| University of Greenwich | 1 |
| University of Hull | 1 |
| University of Leicester | 1 |
| University of Lincoln | 1 |
| University of Liverpool | 1 |
| University of Plymouth | 1 |
| University of Roehampton | 1 |
| University of Sheffield | 1 |
| University of Southampton | 1 |
| University of Strathclyde | 1 |
At the same time, a notable share of fellows are hosted by post-1992 universities, such as Anglia Ruskin, Canterbury Christ Church University, London Metropolitan University, and Sheffield Hallam. These institutions often emphasise applied research and professional practice, suggesting alternative models of academic integration and possibly different levels of institutional support for displaced scholars.
A smaller number of fellows are affiliated with specialised or non-university research bodies, such as the Royal Veterinary College, Royal Central School of Speech & Drama, the British Library, the Centre for Ecology and Hydrology, and the British Institute of International and Comparative Law. This diversity of institutional homes points to a broadening of what constitutes ‘academic refuge’, extending beyond traditional university settings and into sector-specific or practice-oriented research environments. Figure 8 provides a snapshot of this distribution, illustrating the varied institutional contexts in which Ukrainian scholars continue their academic work in the UK.
Figure 8.
Distribution of Ukrainian RaR fellows by type of UK host institution (n = 125).
A donut chart showing the distribution of Ukrainian RaR fellows by type of UK host institution (n = 125). Russell Group: 57.4% (72); post-1992 universities: 19.1% (24); other UK universities: 10.6% (13); non-university/research organisations: 12.8% (16).
The geographic spread of host institutions is equally significant. Ukrainian scholars have been welcomed by universities across all regions of the UK, including England, Scotland (for example, University of Glasgow, University of Edinburgh, University of Stirling), and Wales (for example, Cardiff University). This nationwide distribution suggests that the impact of the programme and the integration of displaced academics is not limited to elite academic hubs, but is embedded throughout the UK’s higher education landscape.
While the distribution of displaced Ukrainian researchers across UK institutions reveals important trends, it is equally crucial to examine how these universities responded to the practical and personal needs of their fellows. Beyond institutional prestige or academic alignment, much of the scholars’ experience hinged on the scope and quality of support provided on arrival, particularly in the critical area of housing and initial settlement. Universities varied significantly in their capacity and willingness to assist with housing, the logistics of daily life, and family-related challenges, factors that profoundly shaped researchers’ adaptation and engagement. While the majority of participants expressed deep gratitude for the assistance they received, the level and nature of this support varied considerably, reflecting broader disparities between institutions in terms of resources, administrative flexibility, and staff engagement.
At several institutions, particularly those with larger infrastructure and better funding (including some Russell Group universities), the support was described as generous and well-structured. A female scholar, A. (57, HSS), shared: ‘I arrived and was given a studio on campus, and I lived in that studio. Practically … from January to December, free of charge.’ Similarly, another fellow C. (42, HSS) noted that upon arrival, she and her partner were accommodated in ‘absolutely lovely apartments just nearby’, which would now cost £100 per night. The university paid for their stay for over a month and continued to support her later when she had to search for private housing. Participant G. (62, STEM) recalled, ‘Upon arrival, the university allowed me to stay at campus for free for a while. I was warmly welcomed here, and I truly appreciate it.’
In contrast, other scholars encountered significant challenges or received only minimal institutional help. Female participant B. reported no support beyond research-related access to facilities. Another academic who lived over an hour from campus, received a bus pass from the university and had to rely on her mentor to find landlords and act as a guarantor. The university itself recommended her to search for accommodation independently through local websites, which she found difficult due to the unfamiliarity of the environment, cultural context, and housing norms.
Experiences of Ukrainian RaR fellows in the UK vary widely, but several common patterns emerge. Some scholars report receiving generous institutional support, including help with accommodation, childcare, language learning, and access to career development and mental health services. Regular meetings and a sense of community among displaced academics have also proved valuable. Yet others describe a much lonelier reality. As one participant reflected, ‘I doubt that anybody except my academic mentor knows about my existence here.’ Practical hurdles, particularly in housing, often deepen that sense of isolation. Researchers arriving on temporary placements face challenges such as the lack of rental history or local references, making it difficult to compete in a saturated housing market (Plackett 2025). These obstacles underscore the need for more comprehensive, well-coordinated support systems that extend beyond the academic sphere.
A number of respondents indicated that support could also differ within the same university, depending on the fellow’s personal situation. In some cases, universities that hosted multiple researchers provided campus accommodation and settling assistance to a woman with a child, while a single scholar at the same institution had to seek housing on their own. This raises important questions about transparency and consistency in institutional practices.
In some instances, proactive mentorship played a vital compensatory role. A female fellow, D. (42, HSS), described how ‘at some meeting, my mentor put out a call and that’s how [a sponsor] and housing was arranged’. She also noted the availability of a personal research budget from the university, separate from the British Academy grant, which she could use for professional development. The reliance on mentors rather than institutional policy was a recurring theme in less resource-rich universities.
While the British Academy fellowship itself provided a stable financial foundation, allowing many scholars to transition from temporary or sponsor-provided housing to independent living, the role of the host university in facilitating this process proved decisive. A male researcher, F. (48, HSS), recounted that his family of three initially lived in a ‘tiny’ room at their sponsors’ home. ‘We used to have a huge flat in [our home city in Ukraine] … it was difficult for us’, he said. Thanks to the fellowship, they were eventually able to rent a separate flat, which significantly improved their well-being and autonomy.
These narratives suggest that, while the programme succeeded in safeguarding scholars’ academic trajectories, the extent to which it could ensure dignified and equitable living conditions depended largely on host-institution practices. Universities with stronger internal support systems could bridge gaps left by external funding policies, offering maternity leave (as in participant C.’s case), direct housing provision, and research budgets. Those without such capacities often left scholars reliant on informal networks or the personal discretion of individual mentors. Ultimately, this variability underscores the need for standardised, equitable guidelines for all institutions hosting at-risk scholars. Housing support, in particular, should not hinge on the goodwill of mentors or the initiative of individual departments, but should be integrated into a broader institutional commitment to inclusion and academic dignity.
Personal and family realities
This institutional variability not only affected researchers as individuals but also shaped the everyday lives of their families. The degree to which scholars could maintain a sense of stability and care for dependents was closely tied to the level of university engagement and responsiveness. Beyond institutional contexts, the private sphere, particularly family composition and caregiving responsibilities, proved equally pivotal in shaping the exile experience. Whether participants arrived alone or accompanied by partners, children, or elderly relatives, their family circumstances profoundly influenced their emotional well-being, academic participation, and social integration in the UK.
Many participants reported arriving with their immediate families, which they described as both a stabilising and constraining factor. Participant F., for example, saw the presence of his wife and child as a ‘positive, since their family has always been very close-knit’. Similarly, fellow G. credited his adult son, already a UK citizen, with facilitating their housing arrangements and assisting with bureaucratic matters. His wife, whom he affectionately called a ‘foreign minister’, helped maintain ties with their dispersed family across Europe. As he explained, ‘She often visits our children and relatives … and through her we stay in touch. … And she works in a local hub to help other Ukrainians!’ These accounts echo recent observations on the interplay between the personal and the collective in forced migration narratives, where family cohesion in the face of crisis both strengthens resilience and shapes emerging forms of social agency (Kiselyova & Ivashchenko 2024). Moreover, for some scholars, pre-existing family ties in the UK were a motivating factor in applying to the British Academy programme in the first place, as they offered an informal yet vital support system.
At the same time, several participants underscored the challenges of balancing academic work with parental responsibilities in exile. Female scholar D., who arrived with two children, reflected candidly: ‘It’s definitely not a plus for professional development … childcare constantly needs to be managed, which takes my energy and time I could have devoted to my research or conferences.’ Her colleague B., mother of a teenager, described how her daughter’s needs became the ‘defining factor’ in reorienting her research and career trajectory: ‘The child, her interests, her future, ensuring her safety … and so on … mostly focusing on the fact that I needed to be here with her.’ Similar tensions between caregiving and academic engagement have been observed among Ukrainian scholars in exile, where family circumstances often shape strategies of professional behaviour and, in some cases, lead to the reconsideration or refusal of fellowship opportunities (Ivashchenko & Kiselyova 2024).
Interestingly, while some mothers felt constrained in their academic productivity, others discovered unexpected forms of intergenerational support. For a female researcher, N. (40, HSS), her 11-year-old son has been a source of strength throughout her displacement journey. His rapid mastery of English has both supported her own language development and offered practical help, even with academic presentations and technical assistance in her research. Many mothers also noted their children’s rapid linguistic and social integration, particularly through school. While assisting their children with school subjects, mothers found themselves learning alongside them. Children not only adjusted quickly but often became linguistic and cultural mediators, helping with English, handling correspondence with public services, and facilitating social encounters. As one respondent noted with warmth, ‘My daughter helps me write emails and even translates at school meetings. She’s more confident than me now.’
Nevertheless, the psychological cost of separation from extended family, particularly fathers who remained in Ukraine, was a recurrent theme. Several female participants shared that the emotional bond between their children and their fathers had become strained. In some cases, children missed their fathers intensely; in others, distance and trauma had begun to erode those relationships. As one mother put it, ‘They miss each other … but sometimes I feel like they’re becoming strangers.’ These emotional shifts resonate with broader observations on how forced migration reshapes not only the lives of women and children abroad but also the gender awareness of men who remain behind, challenging static notions of familial roles and responsibilities (Ivashchenko & Kiselyova 2024). Yet, these shifts are often fragile: many Ukrainian women eventually revert to traditional roles upon return, losing their provisional status as breadwinners or decision-makers. Displacement, then, is both a space of transformation and a potential return to entrenched norms.
For some participants, these changes took deeply personal and often painful forms. Academic N. (40, HSS) shared that she no longer felt emotionally tied to her home city, explaining, ‘I was divorced while I was here [in the UK]. … And it’s not me who ended the marriage.’ Despite this personal rupture, she maintains occasional contact with her ex-husband, calling to check whether their home has survived recent shelling. Her sense of disconnection from her pre-war life has prompted a strong commitment to rebuilding her future abroad. Increasingly, she feels at home in the UK, actively engaging with both the academic community and the wider society.
By contrast, those without family nearby described profound loneliness and emotional strain. Female participant O., who arrived alone, reflected: ‘To live and work in safety is a blessing, but it’s still incredibly difficult when your whole family remains in Ukraine, constantly under threat. … I now regret not bringing at least my elderly parents.’ For some, the absence of family led to social withdrawal, while others, like participant A., found comfort in visiting relatives who had relocated earlier: ‘It’s easier, because I have someone to talk to and I don’t have to fly all the way to Ukraine.’
Importantly, institutional support sometimes helped offset these pressures. Several participants praised the British Academy’s commitment to inclusive practice: for instance, offering childcare options at conferences and workshops. Female researchers noted this with particular appreciation: ‘It’s hard to imagine anything like that in Ukraine’, one remarked. Such provisions made academic participation more accessible and signalled a sensitivity to the gendered realities of scholarly displacement.
These institutional efforts resonated powerfully in the personal stories of some participants, for whom the RaR programme became a pivotal point. One such example is a STEM scholar in her early forties, who had known her British partner since 2017 through an Erasmus+ project. The couple reunited and married during her fellowship year in 2023. As their project supervisor light-heartedly remarked, the marriage became ‘the most impactful result of UK–Ukraine academic cooperation’.
A similarly moving story comes from another humanities researcher, who had lost her home to the war and came from a city devastated by shelling. Despite such traumatic loss, she did not succumb to despair. During her fellowship, she built a new life in the UK, marrying and giving birth. Now, she successfully combines happy motherhood with academic research and expresses deep gratitude to the host country and the programme for offering her a new beginning and the opportunity to live a full and meaningful life.
Together, these narratives reveal how deeply personal circumstances intertwine with professional life in exile. The presence or absence of family is not a peripheral detail, but a central element shaping scholarly trajectories, emotional resilience, and access to opportunity. For host institutions and funders, these findings suggest that effective support for displaced academics must extend beyond individual scholars to the broader familial contexts in which they live and work. Mobility schemes should account for caregiving responsibilities, offer family-friendly infrastructure, and recognise emotional and logistical burdens carried disproportionately by women in exile.
Conclusion
This article has assembled a textured account of 125 displaced Ukrainian scholars hosted in the UK through the British Academy’s Researchers-at-Risk (RaR) programme. Far from being a homogenous or passively supported group, this cohort represents a living mosaic of disciplines, career stages, and personal histories. The survey data and in-depth interviews suggest that exile reshapes academic lives in profound ways, shifting not only where scholars work but how they are positioned, recognised, and able to contribute in foreign academic environments.
Key findings point to distinct patterns in gender and disciplinary representation, with women, especially in the humanities and social sciences, constituting a significant portion of the cohort. This is a reflection of both wartime restrictions and pre-existing academic inequalities. Displacement has created paradoxes of visibility and invisibility. Senior academics, once firmly embedded in Ukraine’s institutional system, now often face conditions resembling early-career precarity, especially when stripped of prior affiliations and networks. The role of institutional affiliation emerges as central to the continuity of academic work, yet many participants report difficulties in maintaining ties with Ukrainian institutions or securing longer-term positions in host countries. At the same time, exile has opened up new spaces for professional growth, social integration, and identity transformation, particularly for those with access to supportive networks.
Although the study captures only a fragment of this complex landscape, it highlights wide disparities in institutional support: while some scholars benefited from generous and holistic assistance, others navigated their placements in relative isolation, pointing to the need for more consistent and comprehensive support mechanisms. Family responsibilities and legal constraints have further shaped the textures of individual trajectories, in some cases enabling adaptation, in others intensifying isolation. These findings underline the importance of viewing academic displacement not merely through the lens of emergency response, but as a deeply personal, systemic, and evolving condition that demands sustained and context-sensitive help.
As with any exploratory study, this research carries limitations. The RaR cohort represents only a portion of displaced Ukrainian academics, and the self-selected survey and interview participation may favour those with more stable or accessible experiences. Moreover, the study captures a snapshot in time, without systematically addressing post-fellowship reintegration challenges.
The next phase of this research will examine academic and social integration, evolving notions of home and belonging, and the transformation of scholars’ identities beyond temporary fellowships. Understanding these lived experiences is vital not only for enhancing support for displaced academics, but also for informing more responsive research policy. Future work will explore what forms of recognition and reintegration are possible, both within host countries and upon return to Ukraine, and how international support schemes might foster long-term scholarly continuity.
As global crises increasingly intersect with academic life, displacement is no longer peripheral. It is reshaping the centre of knowledge production. Listening closely to the lived experiences of scholars-at-risk, and learning from both their struggles and their agency, is an ethical and intellectual imperative today. At the same time, fostering inclusion must not come at the expense of those within host institutions. Supporting displaced scholars should not be framed as a zero-sum obligation, where one group’s gain implies another’s loss. Solidarity, grounded in reciprocity and shared enrichment, offers a more resilient and inclusive model for global academia, one which is rooted in mutual purpose, not sacrifice.
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DOI: 10.5871/jba/013.a43
Published on: 3 December 2025
Volume: 13
Issue: Issue 4
Article view count: 670
Article download count: 14
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© The author(s) 2025. This is an open access article licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 4.0 International LicenseCite this article
Torubara, O. (2025), ‘Portraits in exile: insights from displaced Ukrainian scholars in the UK’, Journal of the British Academy, 13(4): a43 https://doi.org/10.5871/jba/013.a43Crossref
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Received
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May 2023
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July 2023
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