Russia’s stolen children: How the Kremlin is using abducted Ukrainian minors as weapons of war

They have been subjected to sexual violence, killed, abducted, forcibly relocated, and adopted into Russian families - often to be enrolled in coercive re-education programmes aimed at erasing their identity.

Ukrainian authorities have identified nearly 20,000 children who have been forcibly transferred or deported to Russian-controlled territory.

Legal experts say the Kremlin vastly inflated this number - claiming to have “saved” 750,000 children - to bolster its propaganda and strengthen its bargaining position.

These children are exploited as political tools, with Moscow framing their abduction as an act of charity. In reality, it is a calculated tactic of leverage. Russia knows Ukraine will fight for their return; they are a core pillar of President Zelenskyy’s peace formula.

Some children were taken as punishment for occupation resistance or refusal to accept Russian passports. Others were removed under false promises of safety.

Their identities are often destroyed or falsified, making reunification painfully difficult. Families are trapped in bureaucratic limbo, at the mercy of Russia’s diplomatic games.

Some face the impossible choice of entering occupied territory to retrieve them, risking their own safety.

Read more: Putin’s child army: The terrifying truth about Russia’s war on Ukraine’s kids

Read more: North Korea ‘to send 30,000 troops for Putin’s next large-scale offensive,' Ukraine warns

In 2023, Tatiana undertook a journey to recover her son. One she described to me as psychologically and physically punishing. Russian agents accused her of working for Ukrainian intelligence.

She was arrested and subjected to intense interrogation under a polygraph.

This campaign is not new. Since the illegal annexation of Crimea in 2014, Moscow has used the territory as a testing ground for child deportations.

These early actions were a prelude to the industrial-scale abductions taking place today, with high-profile officials actively participating.

Maria Lvova-Belova, Russia’s Commissioner for Children’s Rights, publicly announced she had adopted a child from Mariupol. Sergey Mironov, leader of a pro-Putin party and under UK and EU sanctions, is reported to have adopted a two-year-old girl removed from Kherson.

Her case has been raised at the UN, but with no progress. In a rare act of accountability, the International Criminal Court issued arrest warrants for both Putin and Lvova-Belova in 2023.

But two indictments are not enough. So far, only around 1,000 children have been returned to Ukraine.

Open-Source Intelligence Investigations provided to my research by OSINT for Ukraine, uncovered how Russia’s forced adoption policy is being normalised through a network of professional adoptive parents and informal online communities.

Due to altered records of the children, researchers turned to VK (VKontakte) - Russia’s most popular social media platform among middle aged Russian’s - where they found groups named “Children Are Waiting” (Дети ждут), “Adoption. I’m Looking for You, Mom!” (Усыновление. Я ищу тебя, мама!), and “Parent Bridge” (Родительский мост).

They all promote adoption of children from occupied Ukrainian territories by sharing photos, personal details, and adoption updates.

Russian’s posted openly documenting their trips to occupied territory to adopt children and expressed gratitude to Kremlin officials - especially Maria Lvova-Belova - for facilitating the process. Some adoptive families also spoke of state-supported housing.

One harrowing example found on an online forum showed a prospective adoptive parent expressing a preference for war-orphaned children, whom they assumed to be mentally and physically healthier than those who had spent longer periods in institutional care as a result of an unstable home.

Russia has created a registry of families deemed eligible to take in Ukrainian children, offering financial incentives, including up to $1,000 for a child with disabilities.

Some of the children taken by Russian agents are among the most vulnerable.

One mother told me how she had planned to visit her son at his care facility on 24 February - the day the invasion began. She wouldn’t see him again for over a year and a half.

During that time, he was transferred to occupied territory and underwent surgery without her knowledge or consent. When finally returned, he showed clear signs of trauma towards medical staff, crying, shouting, and resisting any contact with them. He is non-verbal and unable to explain the source of his fear.

Cases of the most vulnerable being a target is sadly not unique.

Hannah told me how when the Oleshky Boarding School came under occupation, she clung to brief, infrequent phone calls from the staff.

Her son Anton had lived there for eight years, receiving specialised, round-the-clock care for a neurological disorder. The school - once one of Ukraine’s best for care - was a lifeline for him.

But after the invasion, it was cut off, its staff and residents trapped. As Russian forces severed Ukrainian phone networks, contact became patchy. By autumn 2022, she lost communication entirely.

Then, in early November, a staff member managed to inform her that Anton had been transferred to another occupied city by Russian forces. She now lives in torment, desperate for answers and his safe return. Even while at the school, Anton was never without family support. Now, she knows nothing.

She describes herself as empty, worn down by silence as his health had already been deteriorating before the war. Hannah has no idea if he is alive.

She told me she cannot cry anymore - her grief has hardened into anger as she bravely navigates the silence.

Vadym Reutsky, a teacher at the specialist school, described the emotional toll: “This boarding school was my whole life… and they took it from me.” He was referring to the Russian agents who, after months of intimidation -including tearing down the children’s drawings - ultimately removed all the students.

Until then, staff had fought to keep the children safe, relying solely on donations of food and medicine from the local community. He continues to advocate for their safe return.

Despite ICC arrest warrants and growing international condemnation, the response remains inadequate. Ukrainian families are left to navigate diplomatic dead ends at the mercy of the Kremlin.

The international community cannot allow the weaponization of children to set a precedent. States must boost intelligence-sharing and force repatriation.

A nation’s right to exist begins with its people. For Ukraine, that means bringing its children home, with their names, identities, and futures intact.

Above all, this must be central to peace talks - non-negotiable and unconditional.

Megan Gittoes is an Associate Fellow for GLOBSEC and has been conducting research on the ground in Ukraine.