Russia’s New Gulag

Russia is holding and torturing Ukrainian civilians, though they are not charged, have had no due process and no release date.

Ukrainian warriors of the Armed Forces, the National Guard, the State Border Guard Service, and civilians. Most of them had been in captivity since 2022. / Source Volodymyr Zelenskyy Official Facebook Page.

Dmytro Khilyuk spent more than three years in brutal conditions in Russian captivity, and marked his 20 years as a journalist while being held at a prison camp in Pakino, 260 km (161 miles) east of Moscow.

He was seized on February 25, 2022, after Russian troops entered Kozarovychi, a settlement north of Kyiv, at around 11 am. He was at his home and witnessed columns of military vehicles rolling through the streets of the village, which later became famous after its dam was breached to stop the Russian advance.

“I never imagined there would be fighting in our village, that people would be kidnapped, held hostage, their homes looted,” Khilyuk said.

Photo: Dmytro Khilyuk Credit: Oleksandr Khomenko / CEPA

Soldiers stormed his family’s home. His elderly mother, recovering from a stroke, was watched over by a soldier in the kitchen while Khilyuk and his father were forced outside.

The Russians “liberated” their wristwatches, phones, and other personal items, he said. Neighbors later told him refrigerators had been emptied as the invaders stole food, children’s gaming consoles, and everything else — from valuables to ordinary household objects.

Less than a week later, Khilyuk and his father were seized outside their home. Jackets were thrown over their heads, and they were led to a warehouse.

The Russians said, “We’ll check if you’re a spotter; if not, we’ll let you go,” he recalled. He was blindfolded and, during interrogation, told them he worked as a journalist. They asked what he had been filming, what he was doing in the village. “I live here,” he replied.

His father was released soon after, but Khilyuk was transported to another town and then across Belarus to Russia’s Bryansk region, which borders Belarus and Ukraine.

Held in conditions of extreme cold and hunger, prisoners endured electric shocks and beatings with rubber batons, he said. There were also daily rituals meant to humiliate, including being forced to sing the Russian national anthem.

“People went crazy, all we could talk about was food,” he said. “You’d look at a bar of soap and it would seem to be ice cream.”

The prisoners stood close to radiators in the hope of getting warm, and spent hours walking in circles when they gave off no heat.

“I wore socks on my hands,” he said. “I had two pairs of underwear, and wore the second one around my neck as a scarf because I didn’t have anything else.”

Even when they were allowed outside for short periods of exercise, they wore the same clothing, regardless of whether it was +5 or –15°C.

Khilyuk was moved to a prison camp in Pakino, in the Vladimir region east of Moscow, after a sudden transfer from the previous facility.

“At Pakino, at first propaganda was broadcast from loudspeakers — the dumbest Russian propaganda — and we listened to it for a year,” he said. Later, it was replaced with songs from Soviet cartoons and films.

Humiliation was common and “inventive,” he said, including prisoners being forced to crawl on their hands and knees through corridors while guards called them “seals.” Everyone was forced to crawl, regardless of age or physical condition.

Prisoners of war were sometimes treated worse than civilians, Khilyuk said. They understood why they were being held, after being taken captive on the battlefield, but the non-combatants could only guess why they were there, or for how long.

“Many civilians were taken just like that — arrested on the street or at home — their families often had no idea where they were,” Khilyuk said. Guards would taunt detainees, saying “you all say you’re civilians, but in reality you are not,” he recalled.

There were no formal charges or due process for any of them.

During 41 months and 21 days in captivity, he was only given the chance to write letters a few times, he said, despite the Geneva Conventions right to regular correspondence with loved ones. Only one of the letters he wrote — a brief note — ever reached his family.

The prisoners “celebrated” birthdays in captivity by giving bread and other food from their rations to the birthday person, so, for at least one day in the year, they wouldn’t be unbearably hungry. Khilyuk mentally marked the 20th anniversary of his journalism career in prison.

Released in a prisoner exchange on August 24, Ukraine’s independence day, Khilyuk said he returned home physically and emotionally scarred but resolute.

His case demonstrates both the constant vulnerability of civilians in occupied areas and the resilience of those who endure unimaginable conditions. He wants the world to ensure such abuses are documented, exposed, and addressed.

“There are no charges, nothing,” he said. “Civilians there are like the hostages of terrorists.”

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By Lera Burlakova. Lera Burlakova is a Democracy Fellow at the Center for European Policy Analysis (CEPA). She is a Ukrainian journalist and former soldier who served as an infantrywoman from 2014-2017 after joining up following the Russian invasion of Crimea.  Article first time published on CEPA web page. Prepared for publication by volunteers from the Res Publica - The Center for Civil Resistance.