Russian missile strikes devastate Ukraine's steel industry, threatening economy and defense

Denys Maksyshko has spent years at Zaporizhstal, the steel factory that anchors his city of Zaporizhzhia and employs 8,500 people. "Zaporizhstal is not just a big company, it's the heart of the city," he says. That heart stopped beating in September after four waves of Russian missile strikes—two in August, two in September. The factory shut down indefinitely. Windows are gone. Roofs have holes punched through them. The blast furnaces are nearly destroyed. Russia fired 17 missiles at the plant. Eight workers were killed, 31 wounded. The chief operating officer of the steelworks' parent company, Metinvest, told the BBC that recovery planning has begun, but whether Zaporizhstal will ever restart remains uncertain.

This is not an isolated incident. Russia launched a sustained air campaign against Ukrainian metallurgical plants beginning in August, and by now all six of Ukraine's remaining steelworks have been hit—some multiple times. Before the 2022 invasion, the metals industry was enormous: it accounted for roughly 10 percent of Ukraine's GDP and a third of its exports. It employed more than half a million people. One in every thirteen jobs in Ukraine was connected to steel and mining. Today, after the Russian attacks, that sector's contribution to GDP is "probably close to zero," according to Metinvest's leadership. The company was Ukraine's largest steel and iron producer before all its facilities went offline.

The scale of Ukraine's industrial loss is staggering. The country had twelve metallurgical plants before 2014. By 2018, that number had fallen to nine. Three years into the full-scale war, only six remained. Among those lost were the Azovstal and Illich plants in Mariupol, captured after a months-long Russian siege. Now the remaining six are all damaged or shuttered. On September 25, Arcelor Mittal Kryvyi Rih—Ukraine's largest steelworks and located in President Zelensky's home city—announced it could not reopen after five weeks of repeated attacks. Five workers died in those strikes.

The economic consequences ripple outward from the factory gates. In steel-producing cities, local governments have depended on taxes from metal companies for 30 to 70 percent of their municipal budgets. These taxes fund infrastructure maintenance, heating systems, schools, and social services. When the steelworks close, the money stops. Oleksandr Vilkul, the local defence council head in Kryvyi Rih, issued an emergency address acknowledging the "very serious blow" and describing the situation as "very difficult." A consultant at Kyiv's GMK Center put it plainly: "The physical survival of these cities depended on these companies." Before the war, the metals industry invested $2 billion to $3 billion annually in the broader economy. If the steelworks remain closed, hundreds of thousands of people may lose their jobs. The resulting migration waves could extend far beyond Ukraine's borders. "A humanitarian catastrophe is looming," the consultant warned.

Russia has justified the attacks by claiming the plants were producing military hardware. Steel is indeed vital for making weapons and for constructing shelters and repairing buildings damaged by Russian strikes. But the targeting has made even attempted recovery dangerous. One Metinvest official described restarting a furnace at Zaporizhstal: it worked for ten hours before another air strike hit. There seemed little point in spending money on repairs when the situation remained so uncertain.

Even if production somehow resumed, Ukrainian steelmakers would face a hostile operating environment. Russian attacks on railways have made moving products within Ukraine difficult and dangerous. Strikes on ports have turned exports into what one executive called "a lethal lottery"—ships face roughly 50-50 odds of reaching their destination safely. "Ports have essentially been blocked," he said. Added to this are new EU quotas on steel imports that took effect in July, which will further constrain markets for Ukrainian producers.

Yet among the workers clearing rubble from the damaged factories, there is defiance. Maksyshko sees his colleagues' efforts to salvage what they can as a form of resistance. "This is similar to what the military do in the trenches," he said. "Ordinary people are fighting to keep the factory alive like soldiers." Whether that determination can overcome the scale of the destruction, and whether Ukraine's economy can survive the loss of its industrial backbone, remains an open question.