Explainers

In international law, these are not just general terms; they describe serious crimes.

Deportation refers to the forced removal of people from the territory where they legally reside to another country. Forcible transfer means the same kind of removal, but within the borders of an occupied territory.

Both are prohibited under the Geneva Conventions and defined as war crimes under the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, especially when it comes to children.

When Russia removes Ukrainian children from occupied areas and places them in Russia or Russian-controlled institutions without the consent of their families, and often without any way to trace them, this is not an evacuation.

This is deportation. This is a forcible transfer. And this is illegal.

Children have the right to their identity, family, culture, and country. Forcibly taking that away is not “protection.” It is a violation of international law.

Once a child is taken by Russian forces, their life is often completely rewritten.

They may be sent to a filtration camp, where they are interrogated and separated from family members. Many are then transported deep into Russia — sometimes thousands of kilometers from their home — and placed in orphanages, foster families, or “patriotic” education camps.

Their Ukrainian documents are taken away, and they are issued Russian papers. In many cases, their names are changed, their language is replaced, and their memory of home is deliberately erased.

Some children are told their families abandoned them. Others are pressured to adopt a Russian identity or ideology. Access to phones or contact with relatives is often blocked. In camps, they may face psychological pressure, military-style drills, or forced propaganda lessons.

For children who were already vulnerable — for example, from orphanages or under temporary guardianship — the risk is even greater. They can be adopted into Russian families with no way back.

This is not just relocation. It’s an organized system of identity destruction.

Bringing a child back from Russia or the occupied territories is only the first step. After their return, children begin a longer recovery process, reintegration, and rebuilding trust.

Each child is different. Some come back with trauma, some with new identities forced on them, some completely cut off from their past. That’s why Ukraine has set up a dedicated system to support every child, long after they’re home.

The process is coordinated by the Child Rights Protection Center and the Coordination Center for Family-Based Care. Together, they make sure no returned child ends up in an institution.

If the child has family, they go home. If not, they are placed in foster or guardianship care and never in large residential facilities.

Support continues for as long as it’s needed. This includes:

• Temporary housing (if needed)
• Help restore documents and legal status
• Access to school and healthcare
• Psychological support
• Help reconnect with the community and culture

In June 2025, during talks in Istanbul mediated by Turkey, Ukraine handed Russia a limited list of 339 Ukrainian children who had been deported, forcibly transferred, or were being held in occupied territories.

This list — often referred to as the “Istanbul list” — was not meant to represent the full scale of the crime. It was a diplomatic step, intended as a confidence-building measure: a way to test whether Russia was ready to engage seriously on humanitarian grounds and return even a small number of children.

Why just 339 names? Because Russia has shown it uses personal data — even of children — for manipulation and propaganda. Ukraine had to balance the urgency of returning children with the responsibility of protecting them and their families. That’s why only the most verifiable, protected cases were shared.

So far, Russia has not shown a real willingness to cooperate. Its delegation responded vaguely, and very few children have been returned. This proves once again that statements about “readiness” to return children must be judged by actions, not words.

The key difference is consent, purpose, and outcome.

Evacuation is legal only if it’s temporary, truly protective, and done with the informed consent of the child’s legal guardians — with the intent to return them home. It must also follow clear rules under international law, especially in occupied territories.

Deportation, on the other hand, is when children are removed by force or deception — taken away from their homes, separated from their families, and transported either within occupied territory or into the territory of the occupying power.

What Russia has done is not an evacuation. In many cases, children were taken without family knowledge or consent. Some were sent to Russia under the claim of “safety,” but were then placed in camps, orphanages, or Russian families. Others were kept in occupied areas and subjected to forced re-education. Most were not returned.

This violates the Fourth Geneva Convention and the Rome Statute. When children are taken, re-registered, renamed, and culturally reprogrammed — this is not protection. It is a war crime.

Because returning even one child requires a long, complex, and often dangerous process.

Ukraine has no direct access to children who are in Russia or in Russian-controlled parts of occupied Ukraine. Russia refuses to give transparent information, blocks access to institutions, and in many cases changes children’s identities. That makes it almost impossible to locate or verify a child’s current status.

Each return involves behind-the-scenes negotiations, sometimes through neutral third countries or humanitarian organizations. Even then, Russia demands additional documentation or delays the process with bureaucracy and excuses. In some cases, rescuers have to travel through third countries, facing interrogations and threats along the way.

This isn’t a system built for cooperation. It’s a system designed to delay, confuse, and erase — and that’s why the return of every child is a victory, but never a simple one.

Because it strips a child of their identity, nationality, and legal ties — often permanently.

International law, including the Fourth Geneva Convention and the Convention on the Rights of the Child, is clear: children in war must be protected, not repurposed. They have the right to remain in their community, culture, and family environment.

Forced adoption — especially by the occupying power — violates those rights. It’s not just about where a child lives. It’s about who they are. In many documented cases, Ukrainian children taken by Russia were adopted under new names, given Russian citizenship, and raised to believe they were abandoned or orphaned.

These adoptions happen without Ukraine’s consent and without proper verification of the child’s family status. Once finalized under Russian law, they’re extremely difficult to reverse.

This isn’t a humanitarian act — it’s a tool of assimilation. And when done systematically, as Russia has, it qualifies as a war crime and, under certain conditions, even a component of genocide.

Because speaking out can put their child — or themselves — in danger.

In many cases, children are taken from occupied territories where Russia controls all communication, movement, and institutions. Families living under occupation know they are watched, and that drawing attention to a child’s abduction may lead to punishment, harassment, or loss of any remaining access to that child.

Some parents have been told that if they complain publicly, their child will be relocated deeper into Russia — or adopted quickly, with no way to trace them. Others are threatened directly or forced to stay silent through intimidation.

Even families in government-controlled Ukraine may hesitate to go public if they fear retaliation against relatives still in occupied areas. That’s why Ukraine often avoids disclosing details of ongoing return operations — to protect the children and their families from added risk.

Silence is not consent. It’s survival under coercion.

Because Russia hides them — and distorts the data.

There’s no access to a central list of where the children are, who has them, or under what conditions. Ukraine has created a register of reported and verified cases, but it can only reflect what is known — and even then, families may not have complete information.

Many children were moved through multiple regions, some without documents. Others were registered under new names, placed in institutions, or adopted by Russian families with falsified paperwork. Russia doesn’t cooperate in tracing these cases and has even denied that deportations are taking place.

Public statements by Russian officials sometimes mention hundreds of thousands of children, but without transparency, it’s impossible to verify what those numbers actually include — whether they refer to children who crossed with families, those forcibly taken, or those born under occupation.

This is part of the crime: concealment. The scale is deliberately obscured, because hiding the children makes it harder to bring them back — and harder to hold Russia accountable.

The International Coalition for the Return of Ukrainian Children is a diplomatic and political alliance formed at Ukraine’s initiative to coordinate international efforts to return children illegally deported or transferred by Russia.

It brings together countries and organizations that support Ukraine’s right to recover its stolen children and want to contribute in concrete ways — through diplomacy, legal pressure, intelligence sharing, and support for return operations. The Coalition is not just about statements — it is designed to create political leverage, build legal cases, and unite global efforts into a single, focused response.

The goal is to make sure Russia faces continuous and coordinated pressure — and to prevent the normalization of child abductions in armed conflict. Every country in the Coalition adds weight to Ukraine’s voice and shows that child protection is not a regional issue, but a global red line.

Every child’s return is a separate, high-risk operation. It’s not just about finding them — it’s about getting them out safely.

In many cases, Ukrainian families or guardians have to travel through multiple countries — such as Poland, Belarus, or Georgia — to reach occupied territories or Russia. There, they face interrogations, surveillance, and demands for documents. Some are forced to go through filtration procedures or even submit to lie detector tests.

These journeys can take weeks. Even after reaching the child, relatives may not be allowed to leave immediately. Russian authorities often delay returns under various pretexts or demand media appearances to shape propaganda.

Governmental bodies, NGOs, and international actors coordinate behind the scenes to manage logistics, documentation, and legal steps. But nothing is guaranteed. One small change — a checkpoint, a blocked route, a political order — can stop everything.

These missions are dangerous, exhausting, and deeply personal. Yet they’re the only path available when no formal return system exists.

Military-patriotic education is a system of camps and programs in Russia — including occupied Ukrainian territories — where children are taught to admire the Russian army, support the war against Ukraine, and reject their own identity.

These programs use uniforms, drills, weapons training, and propaganda lessons to indoctrinate children. In some camps, kids are made to crawl in trenches, chant military slogans, and learn how to assemble drones or handle weapons. Others are given simplified history lessons that glorify Russian victories and deny Ukraine’s sovereignty.

This violates international law in multiple ways. Under the Geneva Conventions and the Convention on the Rights of the Child, occupying powers must not interfere with children’s identity or subject them to military training.

This kind of “education” is not cultural or civic — it is coercive. It targets vulnerable, traumatized children and uses them for political purposes. In doing so, it prepares them not for peace, but for future wars.