Kyiv, Ukraine: As international efforts intensify to end the ongoing war between Russia and Ukraine, a haunting silence looms over the fate of nearly 16,000 Ukrainian civilians who remain in Russian captivity. While prisoner-of-war exchanges have gained attention, civilians abducted during the invasion remain trapped in legal and diplomatic limbo.
For Tatyana Popovytch, whose son Vladislav was taken from Bucha in 2022, every passing day without real answers brings a mix of heartbreak and faint hope. “He was gentle, artistic… he loved ballroom dancing,” she says, flipping through old photos on her phone. Despite two letters and a single witness account confirming he’s alive, she fears he may never return.
Civilian Captivity in Violation of International Norms
Under the Geneva Convention, frameworks exist to exchange prisoners of war. However, no formal mechanism supports the return of abducted civilians, a glaring gap that has left families in anguish.
Activists like Yulia Hripun, whose father was kidnapped early in the war, have turned to international bodies, including the UN and European Parliament, to raise awareness. Despite their efforts, governments have no clear roadmap to recover civilians. “There’s interest, but not enough understanding or urgency,” Yulia stated.
A Growing Crisis Hidden in Silence
The lack of infrastructure for verifying and retrieving detainees has led to a severe humanitarian crisis. Ukraine’s Human Rights Ombudsman, Dmytro Lubinets, openly admitted, “We do not have the mechanisms to return them. There’s no legal foundation yet.”
Some detainees face fabricated charges like “resisting military operations,” a chilling justification used by Russian authorities to prolong their detention. In May 2025, 120 civilians were freed in a symbolic gesture, but this is a fraction of those believed to be held—including thousands of children.
Emotional Turmoil and a Search for Hope
For families like Petro Sereda’s from Irpin, each phone ring stirs the same question: Could it be him? His son Artym has been missing for three years. Living in temporary housing, the only certainty for Petro and his wife is the aching wait. “Even just hearing his voice would mean he’s really alive,” he said.
Tatyana, too, prepares herself mentally every day for the possibility of Vladislav’s return, fearing how captivity may have changed him. Her voice quivers as she confesses: “Even the Russian language makes me shudder now—it’s the language he’s being tortured in.”
As ceasefire conversations continue, families urge world leaders not to forget the stolen civilians. Peace, they say, must come with justice—and reunion.
