Russian imperialism against Ukraine is an expression of a brutal attempt at colonial plunder. It lays bare the Kremlin\u2019s objective: to violently eliminate a sovereign state, which it considers part of its former imperial sphere of influence. For five years now, the aggression of the Putin regime has clearly demonstrated its aim to completely destroy the Ukrainian people\u2019s right to self-determination, based on the ideology of Russian supremacy over other peoples. This is the very same national oppression that Lenin and the Bolsheviks fought against and defeated with the October Revolution of 1917.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Today, more and more people with emancipatory aspirations have taken up arms to defend their people. For they clearly understand that the struggle for an international socialist revolution and for the collapse of imperialism is impossible without recognizing the right of nations to self-determination and without guaranteeing the well-being of their peoples, free from the yoke of any great power.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One of these heroes is Vladyslav \u201cIskra\u201d Zhuravlev, a defender of Mariupol and a Marxist activist, who was taken prisoner by Russia in April 2022 and endured four years of hardship, torture, and harrowing abuse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Vladyslav spoke with the editorial team of Krok do Peremohy<\/em> (One Step Toward Victory) about his experiences in the student movement, in the marine infantry, and during his captivity in Russian prisons. He told us about the abuses and methods of inhuman humiliation employed by the imperialist aggressor.
And most importantly: \u201cIskra\u201d emphasized the vital importance\u2014even in the darkest moments\u2014of continuing the resistance, defending human dignity, and maintaining faith in the power of international solidarity.
It is a great honor for us to publish this interview, translated from the Ukrainian publication \u201cKrok do Peremohy.<\/em>\u201d
Interview with a recently released prisoner of war<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 Tell me about yourself.<\/strong>
\u2014 My name is Vladyslav Zhuravlev; my nickname is \u201cIskra.\u201d For a long time\u2014since my youth, around age 15\u2014I identified as an anarcho-communist, but I moved away from that anarchist worldview quite some time ago. Once I had acquired a solid theoretical foundation, I realized that, in reality, I had always viewed the world philosophically through the prism of Marxism. Today, I identify as a Marxist.
I initially enrolled in law school in Lviv (Ukraine), where I immediately became politically active. I became involved in social activism, participating in environmental initiatives, human rights campaigns, and social welfare projects.
Driven by the spirit of the times and the idealism typical of an eighteen-year-old, I feared the war [in Ukraine] would end without me, and that I would miss the chance to take part in this crucial historical process. So I enlisted in the Ukrainian Marine Corps, viewing it as a front of the utmost importance: a battlefield against Russian imperialism.
I turned 19, and in January 2018, I was deployed to the front lines for the first time, marking the beginning of my combat service. Earlier, during my time as an activist, I had met Denys Matsola, whom I later invited to join my unit. By then, I had already established contacts and built a good reputation, which allowed me to secure better service conditions for us. I invited Denys in 2021, and that same fall, he signed the contract and joined my unit. Russia was still waging a hybrid war, and even then, there was a strong sense that the likelihood of a military escalation was very high; this was evident to anyone who had visited the Donbas region during the \u201cAnti-Terrorist Operation\u201d (ATO) or the \u201cJoint Forces Operation\u201d (JFO).<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 Was there a clear understanding that an escalation by Russia was inevitable?<\/strong>
\u2014 Yes. As early as September 2021, U.S. intelligence had information indicating that Russia was preparing a large-scale military aggression toward the end of winter 2022. Official Pentagon military analysts had made direct statements to that effect. But\u00a0even before that\u2014before any official announcement\u2014anyone following developments on the front lines could see a growing number of\u00a0Russian troops massing at the borders, ostensibly to conduct \u201cmilitary exercises.\u201d These exercises were continuous: one followed another, but there was no actual rotation of troops. As a result, forces kept building up at the border, while the reasons the Russian Federation officially cited seemed implausible.
It was clear, then, that\u00a0\u201cthe rifle hanging on the wall\u201d\u00a0would eventually be fired. If not right then, then the next time. Aware of the situation, Denis decided it was better to enlist before hostilities began; he wanted to gain experience rather than learn on the job in the heat of battle, especially since he had no prior military experience.
He enlisted, calmly completed his basic training\u2014a six-month Marine Corps course\u2014and arrived for his first rotation to the front lines, known as [Joint Forces Operation]; barely a couple of months later\u2014or even less\u2014the\u00a0large-scale invasion\u00a0by the Russian Federation began.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 When the great war began, had you already been in the military for quite some time?<\/strong>
\u2014 By February 2022, I\u2019d been there for four and a half years, yes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 What was it like facing the start of the invasion with that level of experience?<\/strong>
\u2014 Well, the large-scale invasion is officially considered to have begun on February 24\u2014that is, the moment the first airstrikes hit our\u00a0target areas:\u00a0specifically, airports, airfields, and radar facilities. But for us,\u00a0it all started earlier.
We were in the Joint Forces Operation zone, near the village of Shyrokyne on the coast of the Sea of Azov, holding the defensive line. On the afternoon of February 21, Russia officially recognized the so-called Donetsk and Luhansk People\u2019s Republics as\u00a0\u201cindependent states\u201d\u2014specifically during the night of February 21\u201322\u2014and many more Russian troops and military equipment entered those so-called \u201crepublics.\u201d Then, on the morning of February 22, intense mortar attacks began. This was on a scale we hadn\u2019t seen in a long time. By then, the combat zone\u2014which had been active since 2014\u2014had stabilized into a\u00a0defensive war, relatively passive on both sides. And then, suddenly, a type of combat broke out that hadn\u2019t been seen since 2018 or early 2019.
Early in the morning of February 24, they launched their first assault against our positions, supported by tanks. Naturally, we confronted them from positions that had been prepared in advance and equipped for defense. The situation remained that way for a while, until we began to come under pressure from the direction of Crimea. And that\u00a0remains a mystery: why did that happen?\u00a0It was most likely an act of sabotage, but the exact details are unclear. In any case, we had to abandon the positions we held for just over a week and fall back toward the city of Mariupol. In fact, we were deployed along the Mariupol axis because it was easier to defend and had better logistical support.
We held our positions there from March 1 through April 4. Specifically, my unit, the\u00a0501st Independent Marine Infantry Battalion. Other defenders of Mariupol held out even longer; it all depended on the specific sector and exactly where the troops were deployed. And we ended up as prisoners\u2026 in a clumsy manner, to put it mildly.
We must begin with April 2. That day, a massive, prolonged assault hit our positions, backed by a significant armored force, artillery, rockets, and air support.\u00a0We were surrounded in Mariupol; we lacked sufficient resources; the enemy controlled the skies, and we had to ration our ammunition very carefully, as no significant resupply was expected. That day, the Russian army\u2014sparing no fire\u2014essentially sent its men to the slaughter: wave after wave, directly against our positions. Finally, as evening fell\u2014after an all-day assault\u2014they managed to encircle us through sheer numerical superiority.\u00a0We were forced to fall back and retreat.
The positions we occupied one block further back were, frankly, very precarious. To make matters worse, we couldn’t adequately fortify the defensive lines we\u2019d established in Mariupol in early March. Constant mortar and artillery fire hindered our efforts to entrench ourselves. Many civilians in the city still had not been able to evacuate for various reasons. On the one hand, the Russians had organized a so-called\u00a0\u201cgreen corridor\u201d\u00a0for civilians. But it was only for those who had a vehicle. Those without transportation could not leave. Local authorities tried to organize buses, but simply getting to them was a tremendous challenge. In a city\u00a0under constant fire from all directions, that proved extremely difficult. Furthermore, it was mandatory to carry identification documents, but due to the constant fires and the need to move from one hiding place to another \u2014moving between different houses\u2014many people lost their documents and, as a result, were unable to leave the city.
So, when we withdrew,\u00a0there were civilians literally everywhere: in every house, in every basement. In other words, we couldn\u2019t use the basements because civilians were taking refuge in them. To make matters worse, by April 2 we had practically exhausted all our reserves of anti-tank weapons. What little we had left was, for the most part, ineffective. We had only small-arms ammunition; we had nothing left of larger-caliber rounds, such as mortar rounds.\u00a0The situation was critical.
It proved impossible to organize an adequate defense without simultaneously endangering the civilian population. So the command began to consider its options. There was talk of a possible meeting between Zelenskyy and Putin regarding Mariupol to decide how to hand over the city with minimal casualties and without bloodshed. There was even talk of an\u00a0\u201chonorable surrender\u201d: marching out with our weapons, banners, and so on. But the situation only continued to worsen. Finally,\u00a0our command decided to surrender on its own.
But the worst part was that\u00a0it was done in a disorganized manner.\u00a0Other units defending the city were not informed, nor were our own troops. We were told that an agreement had been reached for a\u00a0\u201cgreen corridor\u201d, but only on the condition that we surrender our weapons and leave the city for territory controlled by Ukraine. In this way,\u00a0the troops were deceived and led straight into captivity.
The person responsible for this\u2014an\u00a0officer\u00a0from my battalion\u2019s headquarters\u2014is currently under investigation, albeit\u00a0in absentia. In fact, formal charges have been filed against him\u00a0in absentia. However, as far as I know, he is in the Russian Federation and is unlikely to return to Ukraine, where the case against him remains pending.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 In the Russian Federation? As a prisoner of war? Or did he flee there?<\/strong>
\u2014 At first, it seems, he was a prisoner of war. But now all sorts of rumors are circulating: that he lives in the city of Berdiansk\u2014which is occupied by the \u201croughnecks\u201d and where he\u2019s originally from\u2014or perhaps in Crimea. It\u2019s hard to know for sure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 Moving on to your captivity: when your captors discovered that you were a leftist and a Marxist, did they react in any way? Did that affect your time in captivity?<\/strong>
\u2014 Yes, unexpected things happened. First, regarding the interrogations. We went through a specific period of interrogations at the pretrial detention center: representatives from various agencies would come and ask more or less the same questions, although it was clear from their reactions that each group had its own objectives. Officials from the military prosecutor\u2019s office, the FSB, and field operatives were present. I was interrogated by all of them, but the FSB officers showed a special interest in me; at first, they assumed I was a nationalist, so the interrogations were extremely harsh; they were conducted with\u00a0\u201cspecial intensity\u201d, so to speak. Basically, they demanded that I admit to being a \u201cnationalist.\u201d And here\u2019s a crucial point: for them, the very concept of nationalism is synonymous with \u201cNazism.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 What do you mean when you say the interrogations were conducted with \u201cspecial intensity\u201d? Are you referring to torture?<\/strong>
\u2014 Well, there were\u00a0severe beatings and the use of electric shocks. That\u2019s what happened to me personally. They even put\u00a0plastic bags over some people\u2019s heads to cut off their oxygen. It was brutal. That\u2019s how almost all the interrogations went, except for those conducted by the military prosecutor\u2019s office. The military was the only group that didn\u2019t lay a hand on me. Later, once they found out which organization I belonged to and what my actual activities were, they stopped demanding that I confess to being a \u201cNazi,\u201d but\u00a0the situation didn\u2019t improve much. According to the investigator, they began preparing\u00a0a case against me \u201cfor political extremism and participation in a political organization considered illegal in the Russian Federation\u201d\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 Did they try to put you\u2014a Ukrainian citizen\u2014on trial for participating in an organization considered illegal in Russia?<\/strong>
\u2014 Well, I didn\u2019t have the details.\u00a0But they did interrogate me about that case\u00a0in one way or another. I had never even seen the organization in question. My last interrogation on the matter was in\u00a0October 2024. They discovered that I was part of activist circles on May 3, 2022. During that time, they tried to gather information and data, but the process wasn\u2019t easy. First of all,\u00a0I must point out that I wasn\u2019t beaten for being an activist, but simply for being a prisoner of war.\u00a0All prisoners of war went through that! There hasn\u2019t been a single person released from captivity who hasn\u2019t been beaten at least once.\u00a0
But when they have additional reasons [to go after you], the situation gets even worse. Captured nationalist activists undoubtedly had it harder, because they were precisely the ones the captors were most interested in targeting to prove:\u00a0\u201cLook, we\u2019re carrying out an anti-fascist mission in Ukraine. Look here at the real fascists.\u201d\u00a0Those cases interested them much more than, say, someone like me: a Marxist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 What is life like in captivity? How does the day unfold?<\/strong>
\u2014 Actually, captivity varies enormously; first, depending on the prison, and second, depending on the length of time. I spent more than four years in captivity and was held in several prisons; my experience was different in each one. The situation for prisoners of war\u00a0has improved slightly now, thanks to the ongoing solidarity campaigns for the prisoners, including those organized by your organization, IWL-FI. These campaigns influence the international community, which, in turn, puts pressure on Russia. That is my personal opinion.
And although international human rights organizations are not allowed direct access to prisoners, they do visit the prison facilities. You could always tell when the guards were preparing for their visits. When an inspection is being prepared, you can always tell by the unusual activity among the prison guards. You can sense their unease, and it seems to me that this, in and of itself, indicates that\u00a0such inspections really do have an impact.
As for the worst period, it was in Mordovia\u2014at Correctional Colony No. 10\u2014where I was held from\u00a0February 4, 2023, until the very day of the prisoner exchange. Before that, I spent some time in Taganrog and in the town of Riazhsk, in the Ryazan region.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 And how are transfers between prisons handled?<\/strong>
\u2014 By bus, in prisoner transport vehicles, and by plane. It all depends on the distance. I\u2019ve been transported in prisoner transport vehicles more than once. You travel for hours in a cramped van with no stops; sometimes,\u00a0with your hands tied and a sack over your head.
But back to my own experience: the worst period, as I already mentioned, was 2023 in Mordovia\u2014specifically, the time I first spent there. The conditions were as follows: we had to stand at attention for 16 hours a day. We were forbidden to move; we could only walk when ordered, and those orders might come only two or three times a day. Breaking this routine on your own initiative gave them another excuse to beat you. In addition, there were the so-called morning inspections, during which beating prisoners of war was practically a daily ritual. Hardly a day went by without someone being beaten.
The food was terrible, and the portions were tiny. They poured the first and second courses into the same bowl. During my first year in Mordovia, there were no books. And, naturally, there was no entertainment.
Aside from the beatings, they subjected us to excessive physical exertion: we had to do 500 or even 1,000 squats. Sometimes it was 100 push-ups. If you didn\u2019t do it, they\u2019d simply beat you again. They also played the Russian national anthem from time to time. Sometimes this happened during meals; you had to put down your food\u2014even though you already had very little time to eat\u2014and sing the Russian anthem, fearing that if you didn\u2019t, they\u2019d beat you again with a baton. And, of course, nobody wanted that.
And most importantly: even if you managed to organize a personal protest, it affected your fellow prisoners, because collective punishment was the norm there. There was an incident where someone shouted \u201cGlory to Ukraine\u201d and 210 people were punished for it: they beat everyone in the cell block. Even those who hadn\u2019t even seen the person who shouted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 They say that in some prisons they played Russian pop music\u2014like Kipelov\u2019s\u2014all day long. Did you experience anything like that?<\/strong>
\u2014 (Laughs) Actually, Kipelov wouldn\u2019t have been so bad. We had a speaker, though it didn\u2019t broadcast actual radio signals; the audio was looped from a central control room. Exactly the same daily program played over and over again. That was useful, in a way, because you could tell roughly\u00a0what time it was based on the songs; it was like a musical clock, basically.\u00a0But of course, the songs themselves were a nightmare. Things like\u00a0\u201cI Am Russian,\u201d\u00a0by Shaman.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 Weren\u2019t there any normal clocks hanging anywhere?<\/strong>
\u2014 They\u2019re forbidden, yes. It\u2019s forbidden to keep track of time there. There aren\u2019t any calendars either. But, actually, we always knew what day of the week it was and what the date was. We didn\u2019t even have to try very hard. You spend the whole day doing nothing, and then the next day comes, bringing more of the same. You don\u2019t have much to think about, so you just count the days. That\u2019s why I remember so clearly which events happened on which days. In short, it\u2019s like looking at a calendar all day, even if you don\u2019t have one nearby. It\u2019s a paradox.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 And why were they trying to prevent you from keeping track of time? To create an atmosphere of tension?<\/strong>
\u2014 Honestly, I don\u2019t even know the answer to that question myself. To me, it just seems like a formal rule they follow. As for counting the days, I think it\u2019s simply a formal deterrent, designed to\u00a0make it harder for us to coordinate, organize a riot, or do anything like that. But I don\u2019t know for sure; it\u2019s a kind of internal protocol.
I mean,\u00a0we were classified as a category of particularly dangerous prisoners. You could tell because movement from one place to another was only allowed in small groups and always in the presence of special forces. You couldn\u2019t leave your cell on your own. You only went out with permission and accompanied by a whole group of people who monitored your movements. That\u2019s how it worked every time they took us to the exercise yard or to the showers.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 It\u2019s incredible how calmly you talk about this whole traumatic experience.<\/strong>
\u2014 (Laughs) Well, it\u2019s easier for me to talk about it now. But, in reality, it\u2019s the result of ongoing work with a therapist. Plus, I\u2019ve given other interviews and told these stories more than once. That\u2019s why they come more naturally to me now. If someone had asked me about this on the first day I returned, it would have been much harder. Enough time has passed, and\u00a0I\u2019ve had a chance to rest a bit.
To be fair, I should mention that I described the worst phase. But later on\u2014as I said\u2014the inspections began, and the situation started to improve little by little. For example, after each meal, they began letting us sit on our beds for a limited time: we sat down when ordered to and stood up when ordered to. At first, it was half an hour after each meal\u2014that is, an hour and a half a day. Later, they extended that time to six hours: two hours after each meal. Starting in 2025, the food itself improved slightly: they stopped mixing the first and second courses.\u00a0The beatings became less frequent.\u00a0Today, they say, such incidents are not the norm. Although, of course, one certainly shouldn\u2019t rule it out as a possibility. But now the focus there is more on\u00a0psychological pressure. At least, that was the case when I left. Punishments involving excessive physical exercise were still being carried out, meaning that practice remained\u00a0in effect even as of May 2026.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 Do you attribute this change to the fact that several international human rights organizations have begun visiting prisons more frequently to conduct inspections?<\/strong>
\u2014 Yes, exactly. They certainly wouldn\u2019t have changed on their own initiative. It\u2019s some kind of external influence. Personally, I saw representatives from human rights organizations only twice during that time: in late 2023 and in the summer of 2024. Before they arrived, a special forces officer warned us that if anyone said too much,\u00a0\u201cthey\u2019d leave, but we\u2019d stay\u201d. So there wasn\u2019t much point in talking to them. Even so, we managed to see those human rights activists, even though in prison you\u2019re not allowed to lift your head. Most of the time, you recognize people only by their voices and the shoes they\u2019re wearing\u2014I mean the Russian guards, the special forces, the investigators, and so on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 Were you not allowed to lift your head?<\/strong>
\u2014 No, not at all. You could face physical violence for doing so. It was not worth the risk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 You mentioned the showers. How much time did they give you? What were the shower stalls like? And while we\u2019re on the subject, how much sleep did you get?<\/strong>
\u2014 In my last prison, specifically, there were no problems with sleep. The lights were turned off at 10 p.m., and we were woken up at 6 a.m.; that was the routine the whole time. But that was my experience. At the\u00a0Donskoy\u00a0prison in the Tula region, for example, the situation was worse for quite some time. As far as I know, that\u2019s improved now, too. But there was a time there when\u00a0they\u2019d turn off the lights at 10, wake us up at midnight, then turn them off again at 1 a.m.\u2014I think\u2014and wake us up at 3 a.m.\u00a0Something like that. I wasn\u2019t there myself, so it\u2019s hard to say for sure. But generally speaking,\u00a0they\u2019d wake us up several times a night, just to tell us\u00a0\u201cgo back to sleep\u201d. Naturally, you end up suffering from sleep deprivation. And then you still have to stand guard for another 16 hours. And this repeats day after day;\u00a0you only manage to sleep about two hours straight, here and there.
You also have to understand what it\u2019s like to sleep in prison. It\u2019s a sleep where\u00a0you\u2019re constantly cold. Where there are often bedbugs in the bunk. Where the mattresses are usually hard as a rock: you can feel the metal frame underneath. So the sleep itself\u2014even if the duration is acceptable\u2014doesn\u2019t provide any real rest. Not to mention that you don\u2019t sleep in the dark. There\u2019s daytime lighting\u2014on for 16 hours\u2014and then nighttime lighting. The nighttime light is dimmer, but it stays on for the entire eight hours of the night shift. So your eyes don\u2019t really get any rest either.
As for showers: \u201cofficially\u201d it\u2019s once a week, but in reality it\u2019s a matter of luck. In my experience, there were times when I could only\u00a0take a shower once every two months. Although, to be fair, there were a few Russian guards who took the initiative to arrange an extra shower: one more per week. The schedule was also always vague. Once\u2014just once!\u2014a guard who was a good person showed up; he let us wash for ten minutes. That was an incredibly long time, considering that the usual allowance is\u00a0two or three minutes. And even that\u2019s considered a pretty good and common situation. Sometimes you get five minutes, but that\u2019s very rare. Often, it’s even worse. Sometimes you\u2019d rush into the shower and get wet \u2014barely managing to grab the soap\u2014before they rushed you out. That took less than a minute. And since this happened only once a week, everyone developed their own hygiene strategy. The priority was washing the parts of your body you couldn\u2019t clean in the cell: areas you couldn\u2019t reach at the sink.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 Was it common to wash up at the sink in the cell?<\/strong>
\u2014 Yes, absolutely; it was the only option. Of course, the cell had only cold water, and for quite some time\u2014between 2023 and 2024\u2014hygiene supplies were in serious short supply: toilet paper, soap, toothpaste\u2026 There were times when none of that was available for an entire month;\u00a0a tiny bit of soap had to last for ten people\u00a0(the cell was designed for ten). So we only used soap in extreme cases. As for washing properly with soap so we wouldn’t smell bad\u2026 well, that kind of comfort was completely out of the question.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 Would it be naive to ask about privacy in the shower? Doors, curtains\u2026?<\/strong>
\u2014 (Smiles) Exactly. That was completely unthinkable. The shower was the least of our worries. After all, communal showers didn\u2019t bother anyone in the military, let alone in prison. The \u201cgalera\u201d situation was worse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 Did they call the toilet the \u201cgalley\u201d?<\/strong>
\u2014 No, sorry. That\u2019s a naval term for the toilet. I\u2019m from the Marine Corps, so I\u2019m still used to saying it that way. But anyway\u2026 Throughout 2023 and the first half of 2024, the toilets had neither doors nor curtains. You were forced to relieve yourself in full view of nine other people who couldn\u2019t look away or leave because everyone was lined up and waiting. Later, they hung a curtain. And that happened\u00a0just before a second inspection, when we saw someone from outside on the prison grounds. The curtain improved things a little, but, of course, that was the situation in Mordovia\u2014it\u2019s not like that everywhere. It wasn\u2019t the same in Ryazhsk or Taganrog; there, the stalls had doors.
In Mordovia, the toilet was a hole in the floor. In Ryazhsk and Taganrog, there were actual toilets. I could also add a bit more about the conditions, specifically\u00a0regarding medical care. Overall, conditions varied by location. In Ryazhsk, where I was incarcerated, medical care was relatively decent. However, to see the doctor, the local guards devised a procedure whereby, while one person was being taken to see the medical staff, the others had to perform strenuous physical exercises. It was, in essence, a way of\u00a0\u201cpaying the price\u201d\u00a0for the medical visit.
The situation in Mordovia was different: the doctor would come to the cell in person, so there was no need to go to the medical unit. However, the facility was run by a doctor nicknamed\u00a0\u201cDr. Mal\u201d; he carried a stun gun, and people were afraid to approach him. A documentary was later made about him that portrayed him as a criminal. I haven\u2019t seen the documentary yet, but I know it exists. The film is, in fact, titled\u00a0Dr. Mal. As far as I know,\u00a0he was dismissed\u00a0from his position in late summer 2024. He was replaced by another doctor who, in contrast, is very sensible and compassionate, and is always willing to help.
But the fundamental problem lies elsewhere. Very few funds are allocated for medical treatment, whether for prisoners of war or for the general prison population in Russian prisons. This applies to both prisoners of war and ordinary inmates. Sometimes, a doctor sincerely wants to help but is forced to be extremely frugal in allocating the scarce resources available. For example,\u00a0there was an outbreak of scabies\u2014caused by a subcutaneous mite\u2014in our cell. We were unable to treat it for six months simply because there were no medications available. The doctor said he would love to help, but he simply had nothing with which to treat it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 What was the situation with letters from loved ones?<\/strong>
\u2014 Now that I\u2019m back, I\u2019ve calculated that I should have received about 500 letters over those four years, but\u00a0only three actually made it into my hands.\u00a0One from my wife and two from my mother; that was all. Nothing came from my comrades, friends, or other relatives.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 How did you feel when you received those letters?<\/strong>
\u2014 In fact, I was the first person in my circle to receive a letter. It was\u00a0June 8, 2024. The cell door opened, they called my name, and I stepped forward; I was afraid I\u2019d done something wrong or that it was another interrogation\u2026 But then they told me:\u00a0\u201cHere, you have an hour to read this\u201d, and handed me a piece of paper. I opened it, recognized my wife\u2019s handwriting, and burst into tears. I hadn\u2019t expected something like this to be possible; it was incredible. Her handwriting was unmistakable, even though the letter was written in Russian, despite the fact that my wife speaks Ukrainian.
Naturally, the letter didn\u2019t contain any critical information, but it conveyed something and made a huge impression on me. At that moment, I was the only on, and, as I said, the first, to receive a letter. Everyone was very curious to know what was going on. After all, if letters were arriving,\u00a0it meant that Ukraine still existed. It\u2019s important to note that we had been completely cut off from information during that entire time and knew absolutely nothing about the outside world. For their part, the prison guards exerted constant psychological pressure: they claimed that \u201cUkraine no longer exists,\u201d that \u201ceverything has been taken over,\u201d that \u201csuch-and-such a city has disappeared,\u201d that \u201ceverything was renamed long ago,\u201d and that \u201cyou\u2019d better forget about the Ukrainian language\u201d\u2026
And in that context, you receive a letter from Ukraine and read news\u2014for example, that my sister is studying and that the universities are still open\u2014which\u00a0means that things aren\u2019t going so badly.\u00a0Later, I received another letter in 2025 and one more in 2026, shortly before my release. Those two were from my mother.
Then, other inmates also began receiving letters, though in limited numbers. Starting in 2026, they even let us keep a photograph in our cell if it came with a letter. Naturally, they let us read them, but then they took them back. I had hoped they would give them to me when I was sent to the prisoner exchange, but, unfortunately, that didn\u2019t happen. I think they simply destroy them, or maybe they file them in the personal record; I don\u2019t know.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 Were you only allowed to write letters in Russian?<\/strong>
\u2014 To be honest, no one ever specified anything about that. On one occasion, a fellow prisoner received a letter written in Ukrainian. The thing is, Ukrainian speakers often didn’t even try to write in that language. You never know:\u00a0they punish you for the slightest oversight\u2014and very harshly at that. No one gives you specific rules about what\u2019s allowed and what isn\u2019t; you just get a feel for it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 And were you allowed to write replies?<\/strong>
\u2014 Yes. I was allowed to write 12 letters during my entire time in captivity, but only four reached their destination. In fact, one notable incident involved the letters. Take my first letter, back in 2022, for example: during the first few months of captivity, they asked us if we wanted to write to our families. Of course we did; we needed to let them know we were alive and all that. They handed out paper, pens, and\u00a0a template we were supposed to follow. I read the template, and it said things like: \u201clay down your arms,\u201d \u201cwe should be working, not fighting,\u201d \u201cnow I realize that the Russians are our brothers\u201d\u2014that sort of thing.
I asked:\u00a0\u201cCan I choose not to write the letter?\u201d\u00a0They replied:\u00a0\u201cNo, you asked for this, so now you have to write it\u201d. Fortunately, however, that particular letter was never actually sent. Later on\u2014in 2024, or rather, in late 2023, just before New Year\u2019s\u2014we were allowed to write letters again. These were still messages with a preset format, but without the political content: it was enough to say that everything was going well there, wish them a happy New Year, mention that I was celebrating it too, and say that I was doing great; we just had to hang in there\u2014everything would turn out fine. And, once again,\u00a0everything was copied word for word. But starting in 2024, we were allowed to write our own messages, though with one condition:\u00a0we had to include an opening paragraph stating that conditions there were good.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 No one was actually celebrating anything, were they?<\/strong>
\u2014 (Smiles) I must remind you that, officially, we don\u2019t know what date or day of the week it is.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 Getting back to the language issue: Was there pressure on prisoners who spoke Ukrainian?<\/strong>
\u2014 It all depended on the guards you had to deal with. Many, of course, showed great hostility toward Ukrainian. But there were times when they were curious and would ask:\u00a0\u201cHow do you say this word?\u201d or \u201cHow do you say that?\u201dThe opposite could also happen: as soon as they heard a word in Ukrainian, you\u2019d get an extra blow with the baton.
There was one instance when I shared a cell with a man who spoke Ukrainian; we had to memorize the rules of conduct for inmates\u2014we had to know them by heart, since we would later be tested on them. The rules were in Russian, and naturally, it was very difficult for him: he couldn\u2019t read Russian and couldn\u2019t learn them in time. We all received\u00a0collective punishment\u00a0because he didn\u2019t understand. We tried to explain that it was simply harder for him than for the others because he didn\u2019t know the language, but they wouldn\u2019t even listen to us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 At home, people often talk about the language issue in emotional terms\u2026 Sometimes with real fervor. But within the army\u2014on the front lines\u2014is it just as critical an issue?<\/strong>
\u2014 To be honest, it\u2019s hard for me to say what the current situation is, since my information about the army only goes up to\u00a0early 2022. But back then, there were no problems. Naturally, everything at the official level is conducted in the state language: Ukrainian. However, it didn\u2019t matter what language personnel and commanders used to communicate; nobody cared. The situation has changed somewhat now because\u00a0people have felt the impact of the war more intensely; the population has become more hostile toward Russia, and this is fueling strong resentment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 How did you find out that, after four years, an exchange was finally going to take place?<\/strong>
\u2014 The thing is, when you\u2019re in custody, they never tell you the details of your transfers: where they\u2019re taking you, why, or how everything will unfold\u2014you never know. They simply call your name, and everything gets set in motion. And most likely, it\u2019s a transfer to another prison. Which is terrifying, because every new prison starts with the so-called \u201cintake\u201d process, in which\u00a0they brutally beat you before taking you to your new cell. And, of course, no one wants to go through that process again.
So I didn\u2019t know if this was just another transfer or if it really was the exchange. But things were unfolding differently from usual, so I still had some hope.
They took us in prisoner transport trucks, with bags covering our heads, to an airport or airfield and put us on an Ilyushin-76 plane. After landing, they let us take off the bags. We got off;\u00a0I had health problems, so they separated me from the main group so the doctors could examine me. A medic accompanied me from the tarmac and said:\u00a0\u201cRelax, walk calmly; everything\u2019s fine. Now I\u2019ll give you first aid and see what kind of problems you have.\u201d\u00a0I was suffering from\u00a0trophic ulcers on my legs, a common problem in Russian prisons.
Then he led me toward a row of vehicles: there were ambulances parked in a line, and I noticed that they all had\u00a0Belarusian license plates. That\u2019s when I realized the situation was very unusual. On the one hand, the way they spoke to me\u2014kindly,\u00a0treating me like a human being\u2014was something I wasn\u2019t used to. And on the other hand, why were there so many Belarusians there? And yet, right up until the very last moment, you can\u2019t quite bring yourself to believe that it might actually be coming to an end.
And at that very moment, I asked him:\u00a0\u201cAre we in Belarus?\u201d\u00a0He said:\u00a0\u201cYes, everything\u2019s fine; we\u2019re near Gomel. Don\u2019t worry, everything\u2019s in order\u2014you\u2019re going home.\u201d\u00a0That\u2019s when\u00a0I, too, started to cry.
They also gave us a package of humanitarian rations with decent food\u2014there was even a small chocolate bar\u2014; (Laughs) a celebratory meal, a \u201cgift from the Belarusians.\u201d Anyway, all of that was very comforting; I spent one more day in a separate camp on Belarusian territory. Then, a Belarusian ambulance transported me from there and handed me over to a Ukrainian ambulance at the border. While the others traveled by bus, you could say I had a private ambulance. I didn\u2019t ride the buses like the rest of them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 What was your physical condition when you returned to Ukraine?<\/strong>
\u2014 I\u2019m not very tall, so I don\u2019t weigh much to begin with; I didn\u2019t lose a huge amount of weight\u2014about 7 kilos\u2014but for my build, that\u2019s significant. I normally weigh 62 kilos, but I\u2019d dropped to 55. That said, I should point out that the food situation had improved since 2025, so when I returned, I wasn\u2019t in the worst physical condition I\u2019ve ever been in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 How did the reality of Ukraine strike you? Did it seem to you that things had changed?<\/strong>
\u2014 You could tell right away that the landscape had become militarized. We had just crossed the Belarusian border\u2014where there\u2019s a duty-free shop, and everything seems civilized and well-maintained\u2014and entered Ukrainian territory. Suddenly, anti-tank obstacles, concrete bunkers, earthen and wooden fortifications, trenches, and people armed with protective gear appeared. It all looked like something out of a World War I movie. By the way,\u00a0we traveled the same route that Russian tanks had followed in 2022: territory that had been under occupation.\u00a0We were being taken toward\u00a0Chernihiv\u00a0(in northern Ukraine), and in every village along the way,\u00a0people came out to greet us, waving Ukrainian flags, knowing that a convoy carrying freed prisoners was passing by. They shouted:\u00a0\u201cWe\u2019re so happy to see you back home!\u201d It was truly moving.
Of course,\u00a0many things have changed since then: some for the better and others for the worse. One striking change, for example, is that although I had fought in the war before 2022, the fighting always took place within the clearly defined boundaries of a combat zone. Now I\u2019m in the capital, Kyiv, far from the Donbas, where the main fighting is taking place. However,\u00a0attack drones and missiles frequently strike here, and civilians are losing their lives.\u00a0It\u2019s hard to take in: the fighting is far away, but the war is felt very intensely here as well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 How was your recovery process?<\/strong>
\u2014 Actually, it\u2019s a very long and slow process\u2014one that\u2019s still ongoing. I spent some time in a psychiatric unit, and right now I\u2019m on leave for\u00a0rehabilitation.\u00a0After that, I\u2019ll continue with treatment. So there are many physical and mental challenges.
It may seem as though certain problems have stopped bothering you. But then\u2014as the body finally relaxes\u2014everything begins to resurface over time. All that time,\u00a0my body had been in a state of relative alert to endure the harsh conditions\u00a0\u2014holding firm\u2014but the moment I relaxed, the full weight of existence, so to speak, came crashing down on me all at once.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 As a Ukrainian Marxist and a soldier who survived four years of Russian captivity, what would you say to people outside the Ukrainian context\u2014to those who view the Russian-Ukrainian war simply as a \u201cclash of two imperialisms\u201d or who believe in the reality of Russian \u201cdenazification\u201d? What is your main message for them?<\/strong>
\u2014 First and foremost, there\u2019s nothing wrong with some people knowing little about Ukraine and not being immersed in its context. We understand our own context and the nature of our resistance perfectly well. But for some, Ukraine is a very distant country; after all, how many of our own people know anything about the Afghan provinces where fighting is also taking place?
Nevertheless, our task is to set the record straight. Yes, far-right elements really exist in Ukraine. There are even entire units influenced by the far right. But that\u2019s not the issue right now. It\u2019s true that the war may serve the geopolitical interests of both Russia and the United States. However,\u00a0what matters most is what serves the interests of the Ukrainian people themselves.
The Ukrainians\u2019 main goal is to free themselves from imperial influence once and for all and build their own independent state.\u00a0There are plenty of reasons for this:\u00a0a historic yearning for freedom, a unique culture that has faced centuries of attempts at suppression, the physical capacity to act, and, most importantly, the sincere desire of the people themselves.
This is ignored by the imperial aggressors of the current Russian Federation, who attempt to justify their actions through\u00a0\u201cdenazification\u201d. And this despite the fact that\u00a0the Russian army itself includes many far-right members\u00a0who view the situation differently and who, frankly, make no secret of their ultra-reactionary political views.
It\u2019s simple:\u00a0there is a people and their interests. And that people have their own sphere of action. Right now, any force that helps achieve the goals set by the oppressed people is welcome.\u00a0The crucial question today is whether or not one supports Ukraine\u2019s independence.
Thus, the Ukrainian masses have split into progressive and reactionary factions. The reactionary elements favor the old imperial order, while the progressives defend democratic values, development, independence, and sovereignty.\u00a0The fundamental task now is to defend Ukraine\u2019s independence;\u00a0consequently, the country\u2019s internal issues\u2014as it simply needs to remain united\u2014are secondary for now.\u00a0The most urgent matter is that of the national liberation movement.\u00a0Moreover, the issue of social liberation would be much more difficult to resolve under conditions of Russian occupation.\u00a0Therefore, it is vital to preserve the conditions necessary to exercise these rights and freedoms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2014 While you are adjusting to life in Ukraine, your friend and comrade Denys Matsola remains in Russian captivity. It is crucial for us to know what we can do on a global level to help secure his prompt release.<\/strong>
\u2014 I believe we must\u00a0continue organizing support events, exposing the horrors of captivity, and spreading information. Inspections of Russian prisons would never have begun had it not been for the constant testimonies of numerous prisoners of war regarding the treatment they received from their captors. Consequently, the more this is discussed, the greater the pressure on the authorities to address and rectify the situation.
We must speak objectively about the\u00a0reality of captivity in Russian prisons. Incidentally,\u00a0Ukrainian civilians are also being held there under terrible conditions; I myself shared a cell with a civilian. In short, we must talk about what Russian captivity truly entails so that people do not forget it.
As for Denys and his situation:\u00a0he was wounded while performing his duty in Mariupol, and his health\u2014both physical and mental\u2014is currently precarious. Medical care there is absolutely catastrophic. Furthermore, he had pre-existing nervous system issues that have likely been exacerbated by his captivity.\u00a0We must not remain silent about this.<\/p>\n\n\n\n