“No Food or Water for Three Days”

By Olha Yerokhina

Propaganda, informants, beatings, forced military recruitment, and psychological pressure on families have become a daily reality for thousands of Ukrainian children growing up in occupied territories under the constant surveillance of Russian occupation authorities—or for those deported to the Russian Federation.

Occupation alters more than just the flag and language of a town or village—it rewrites the very essence of human life. In schools, colleges, and even inside their own homes, children and teenagers from temporarily occupied territories face relentless ideological pressure, fear, and violence designed to erase their Ukrainian identity. Propaganda, informants, beatings, forced military recruitment, and psychological pressure on families have become everyday occurrences for thousands of Ukrainian youth growing up under the watchful eye of the occupation regime. What they once read about in history textbooks, they now experience firsthand.

In 2014, nearly one million children ended up living under Russian occupation in Crimea and the Donetsk and Luhansk regions. How many of them were subsequently transferred to Russia remains unknown. Children displaced after 2014 were systematically subjected to ideological indoctrination. Today, some are already being militarized and weaponized against their own fellow Ukrainians—fighting on Russia’s side.

Just a month before the full-scale invasion, in January 2022, Russia began actively moving people out of occupied Donetsk and Luhansk: according to the occupiers' own figures, 58,422 children were deported during that period alone. After February 24, 2022, the scale of forced relocations escalated sharply, with Russian officials openly reporting the transfer of Ukrainian children under the guise of “evacuations.” The International Criminal Court issued arrest warrants for Vladimir Putin and Russian Children’s Rights Commissioner Maria Lvova-Belova specifically over the unlawful deportation of Ukrainian children. Despite this, Lvova-Belova publicly claimed that Russia had registered 744,000 children on its territory since the start of the full-scale invasion, adding that it would not provide the Ukrainian side with any information regarding them.

According to the official Ukrainian platform Children of War, more than 20,000 cases of forced relocation and deportation of children to the Russian Federation or occupied territories have been documented to date. Slightly over two thousand have been brought back. However, the true scale could reach hundreds of thousands, as occupying forces continue forced passportization, "health camps" transfers, and deliberate efforts to sever children's ties with their families. Concurrently, Russia is aggressively militarizing Ukrainian teenagers.

Life Under Pressure

Children under occupation live under absolute ideological suppression and perpetual fear. The school curriculum has been turned into a propaganda tool: standard subjects are replaced with mandatory classes like "Conversations About Important Things," "Native Language," or "Fundamentals of Safety," where children are indoctrinated to believe that Ukraine is a "terrorist state," that Crimea and occupied lands "have always been Russian," and that the West started the war. History textbooks rewrite facts; teachers openly express hatred toward Ukrainians, hang portraits of Putin, and force children to sing songs insulting Ukraine. Dissenters are bullied, given failing grades, and flagged for surveillance.

Any expression of Ukrainian identity—a vyshyvanka (traditional embroidered shirt), a sticker, a note in a workbook, refusing to wear a St. George ribbon, or declining to stand for the Russian national anthem—can trigger interrogations, denunciations, beatings with rubber batons, fines, home searches, or placement on official watchlists.

Tymur, 18, Zaporizhzhia region:

“I was at a friend's birthday party at a local venue when, toward evening, military personnel and police surrounded the building. Everyone was pinned face-down to the floor. Some were taken away, some tried to run, and they checked everyone's IDs. They could frame anyone on the spot for nothing. They confiscated my phone and sent me to the military commandant's office, where I was held for three days because they found Ukrainian stickers on my phone. I just sat in a cell—no food and no water for three days. Then they released me at 6:00 AM.”

Teenagers deemed "disloyal" are forced into "humanitarian missions" across occupied areas and drafted into Zarnitsa—military-patriotic games where NATO is framed as the enemy. Older students and high school graduates are pressured to sign military contracts, promised money and "prestigious" service in drone units.

18-year-old Andrii, originally from Crimea, had recently been living in a Russian city. In both high school and university, he was targeted as disloyal to the Russian authorities. Following an informant's report, he was summoned to a police station, where investigators offered him a choice: prison or "atonement." Before that, he was gang-beaten with rubber batons; the scars on his body have still not healed. Investigators then gave Andrii the option to go as a "volunteer" with Russian humanitarian missions to occupied Ukraine. He feigned agreement, asked for a few days to prepare, and within days, escaped to Kyiv.

“I was 17. I was assigned lectures on information security and countering fakes,” Andrii recalls. “They made me create propaganda wall newspapers and enter essay contests on topics like 'Hero of Our Time' or 'Defenders of the Fatherland.' Later, I was made to clean monuments to WWII heroes, attend meetings, and participate in Yunarmia (Youth Army)—though it wasn't operating properly by then due to safety risks. It was mostly filled with offenders. They monitored me to make sure I attended volunteer squads and had photo proof. Missing three sessions meant being turned over to the police for investigation. 'Offenders' were also dispatched on humanitarian missions to occupied territories to distribute Russian aid, help out in hospitals, or travel to Mariupol. They collected supplies for soldiers and brought in fifth-graders to make trench candles instead of attending classes.”

Simultaneously, pressure builds on their families: home raids over relatives serving in the Armed Forces of Ukraine, threats of stripping citizenship, forced Russian passportization, and threats of taking children away from their parents. As a result, many teenagers become withdrawn, afraid to leave their homes, lose trust in adults, and live in constant anticipation of danger—until, often with the support of volunteer organizations, they make the high-risk attempt to escape to Ukrainian-controlled territory. There, by their own admission, they feel relief and freedom for the first time in years.

After 17-year-old Oleksii from the Kherson region sang the Ukrainian national anthem at his occupation-run school, his mother was publicly reprimanded during a meeting with the entire teaching staff and the deputy director for security. She was interrogated about who was "indoctrinationg" her son with pro-Ukrainian views and warned that such behavior would carry severe consequences.

Oleksii's mother recounts: “Our neighbors were a family of teachers who had managed to leave. We saw what happened if you didn't attend school—security forces broke windows, conducted raids, and showed up with police twice a week. There were constant events with presentations and propaganda that children were forced to attend. It was all Russian rhetoric—claiming Ukraine is a terrorist state run by criminals. They brought in officials, including a visiting mayor from Russia, who pretended to listen to what locals wanted to change in our village. They did vocational outreach tied to patriotism, like forcing kids to take photos with police officers. My son once hid just to avoid it.”

“I was summoned to the school because they sang the Ukrainian anthem. The whole teaching staff was sitting there alongside the deputy director for security. They said, 'Someone is feeding him propaganda; your son has influence in the school and shouldn't be doing this.' They warned me it wouldn't end well,” she recalls.

The Road Home

Despite strong international support, a systematic mechanism to return all children does not yet exist. There is not even an established procedure allowing independent third parties access to facilities inside Russia where children are held to inspect their living conditions. Currently, returns remain largely ad hoc, relying heavily on non-governmental organizations like Save Ukraine.

At the state level, these efforts are coordinated through the presidential initiative Bring Kids Back UA. The legal framework for this work is anchored in Cabinet of Ministers Resolution No. 551, which outlines inter-agency cooperation for locating, returning, accompanying, and reintegrating deported or forcibly transferred children, as well as youth aged 18 to 23 who were at risk of deportation. Specific state funding has also been allocated to support activities under the "Social Protection of Children and Families" budget program.

International aid reinforces these efforts. The European Commission announced an additional €50 million to strengthen Ukraine's child protection system—funding targeted toward early education, family and community services, access to justice, and digital compensation systems. Is this enough? Naturally, no.

What Comes Next

Physically returning a child is only the first step. The state and civil society must build robust post-return support systems today, as what happens to a child after their return dictates whether they can truly recover and rebuild their lives.

Reassimilating children after occupation, forced displacement, or institutional stays is a challenge Ukrainian society must tackle systematically and urgently. It cannot be treated as a one-time intervention or a burden for the child to carry alone; it is a shared responsibility for everyone involved in child rights protection. Returning a child without ongoing psychological, psychosocial, educational, and social support does not guarantee recovery—trauma does not resolve on its own.

Reintegration must be viewed not as a brief package of services, but as a sustained, individualized process centered around the child, their specific experiences, and their best interests. This requires long-term, coordinated support across all sectors: education, social services, psychological care, and local communities must work in unison so that no child is left alone with the aftermath of what they have endured, ensuring a real path back to a safe childhood and a full life in Ukrainian society.

Note: All names in this text have been changed for security reasons.

Olha Yerokhina is a Ukrainian professional working on the front lines of child protection and psychological support during Russia’s war against Ukraine. After the full-scale invasion, she joined Save Ukraine in 2022, helping families trace and repatriate children deported to Russian-controlled territories and so-called “summer camps.” She now works with the Voices of Children Foundation, supporting programs that help returned children adapt, rebuild trust, and process trauma through individual therapy, group work, and community activities. Drawing on hundreds of interviews with children and families, she documents patterns of abduction, Russification, and resilience for Ukrainian society and the wider world.

Photo by Diana Vyshniakova on Unsplash