In every war there are points of no return — events that not only shock, but radically change the idea of the limits of what is acceptable. In Russia’s war against Ukraine, such a point became the mass deportation of Ukrainian children to the territory of the aggressor country. This is not an ordinary violation of the rules of warfare, not a tragedy of individual families – it is a purposeful, systematic practice that goes beyond military operations and invades the very essence of human dignity. Here, one cannot appeal to reflections on geopolitics, “objectivity” or “two truths”: the abduction of children is a fact that does not need balancing, because the border has been definitively violated. The subject of deported minors remains one of the most difficult and least resolved in the entire conflict. It cannot be resolved by military victory or technical agreement. And most importantly, it should not be relegated to the periphery of the diplomatic agenda.
Time magazine about deported children
On July 17, the American magazine Time, which has considerable weight in the international media space, presented a new cover dedicated to the topic of thousands of Ukrainian children taken to Russia. It brings back to the public space one of the most painful issues of this war, and also calls into question the established diplomatic routine, which is increasingly less able to respond to the challenges of the humanitarian dimension of the conflict. When it comes to children, words like “negotiation” or “interests of the parties” lose their power.
According to the official data of the Ukrainian authorities, since the beginning of the invasion, about 1,200 children have been returned home. But more than 19,500 remain in the territory of the Russian Federation or in the regions occupied by it. These children are not abstract statistics. These are those who were forcibly removed, transferred to Russian foster families, boarding schools or “re-education camps”. In each of these cases, not only the life of an individual child is broken, but the very idea of the human rights order, according to which a child should not become an instrument of war, is destroyed.
TIME cites the example of 11-year-old Serhiy, who, after getting into a Russian foster family, began to refuse contact with Ukrainian relatives. As his sister testified, he was convinced that Ukraine no longer existed, that his family had died, and that he would simply starve to death at home. This is not an unfortunate mistake of individual adults, but a consequence of systemic work. It is not just about deportation, but about the purposeful destruction of the child’s connection with his language, culture, family, memory, and name.
Such an approach fully fits into the international definition of the crime of deportation, and in some cases, even within the scope of the crime of genocide. After all, according to the UN Convention, one of the forms of genocide is the forcible transfer of children from one ethnic group to another for the purpose of assimilation.
Actual impunity reinforces the feeling that the global system of responsibility does not work in the real conditions of modern warfare. The warrant remains a moral symbol, but has no deterrent or coercive power. For Ukrainian parents and volunteers, this means one thing: they have to overcome the system on their own, outside of diplomatic or judicial frameworks.
TIME draws attention to an alarming trend: the subject of children is gradually disappearing from the forefront of international negotiations. Security, energy, control over territories, guarantees — all of this displaces the humanitarian dimension, in particular the fate of minors, from decision-making centers. Such a change in emphasis creates a deep sense of moral vacuum in Ukrainian society. When children are no longer a priority, but only part of a complex balance of interests, it destroys not only the credibility of negotiations, but also the very idea that humanitarian law exists not on paper, but in action.
Ukraine is trying to keep the topic of deportation on the world agenda, using it as an ethical argument that cannot be nullified either politically or economically. The participation of families in the hearings, the speeches of ombudsmen, the “Bring Kids Back UA” initiative — all these are efforts to keep the face of war humane and not allow the world to hide behind protocols.
Russian strategy: the rhetoric of “rescue” and the practice of concealment
We will remind you that in March 2023, the International Criminal Court issued a warrant for the arrest of Vladimir Putin and the Russian children’s ombudsman Maria Lvova-Belova. This was an unprecedented step in international law: for the first time, the head of state received a warrant precisely because of the deportation of children. But since the issuance of the warrant, there have been no practical consequences. Russia does not recognize the jurisdiction of the International Criminal Court and continues the course to integrate the deportees: issuing Russian passports, renaming, forming a “new family”, eradicating Ukrainian self-identification.
Moscow consistently denies the fact of deportations, presenting them as “evacuation” or “rescue of children” from war zones. However, in reality there is no transparent return mechanism, independent observers are not allowed, and public information about the whereabouts of children or adoptive families is blocked.
This means not just reluctance to cooperate, but the formation of a closed system where every deported child disappears as a legal person, loses contact with his family, and should be avoided. In this context, as TIME notes, Russian policy turns into a systematic campaign to change the ethnic and personal identity of Ukrainian children. This is not a humanitarian disaster, but a purposeful policy.
Diplomacy that loses the sense of scale
One of the sharpest assessments in the TIME publication is the assertion that Western capitals have agreed to push the issue of children aside. This happened not out of indifference, but out of calculation. When difficult negotiations begin, it is always easier to talk about tanks, pipes and missiles than about human destinies for which someone must be responsible. But this is where a dangerous hack lies.
At the moment when the topic of children ceases to be an unconditional red line, the gradual erosion of values begins. For relatives of abducted children, diplomacy becomes a source of contempt. For international law, this is a blow to credibility. For Russia, it is a signal that even the most serious crime can be pushed off the agenda without sanctions.
The publication of TIME brings back the understanding that behind every number there is a life, behind every name there is a lost childhood, behind every story there is a pain that does not fit into the formats of press releases. A child who was stolen has to restore his memory, language, trust, and family. And that is why the topic of children cannot be used as a temporary resource or a diplomatic chip.
