How Russia is trying to turn desperate Ukrainians into traitors

Svitlana says she never thought about betraying her country, “not for a second.”

“My husband would never forgive me,” she says as we meet in her flat near Kyiv.

The 42-year-old had been missing her husband Dima, an army doctor captured by Russia, for more than two years when she suddenly received a phone call.

The voice on the end of the phone told him that if he committed treason against Ukraine, Dima might be eligible for better treatment in prison, or even early release.

“A Ukrainian number called me. I picked up, and the man introduced himself as Dmitry,” explained Svitlana. “He spoke with a Russian accent.”

“He said: ‘Yes you can burn down a military office, set fire to a military vehicle or sabotage an electrical box of the Ukrainian Railways.'”

There was another option: revealing the locations of nearby air defense units, vital military assets protecting Ukraine’s skies from Russian drones and missiles.

When Dmitry explained his proposal, Svitlana says he remembered the instructions Ukrainian authorities gave to all families if approached by Russian agents: buy as much time as possible, record and photograph everything, and report it.

Svitlana complained, and took screenshots of the messages, which she showed to the BBC.

The Security Service of Ukraine, the SBU, told him to stop the Russians while they investigated. So he pretended to approve of bombing a local railroad.

As we sit in his immaculate living room, air raid sirens blaring periodically outside, he plays phone recordings of two voice calls with Dmitry, made via the Telegram app. During the call, he gives instructions on how to make and plant a Molotov cocktail.

“Put in a liter of lighting and add a little gasoline,” Dmitry explains. “Go to a railroad crossing. Make sure there are no security cameras. Wear a hat just in case.”

He also tutored Svitlana on how to put her phone in airplane mode when she was 1-2 km away from the target so she wouldn’t pick up cell phone masts that could be used by investigators.

“Do you know what a relay box is? Take a picture. This should be the target of his fire attack,” Dmitry explained, asking for proof that the task had been completed.

“Write today’s date on a piece of paper and take a picture with it.”

In return, Dmitry said he could arrange a phone call with her husband or deliver a package to him.

Later, the SBU told Svitlana that the man she had been talking to was in Russia, and that she should break off the relationship. Svitlana told Dmitri that she had changed her mind.

“That’s when the threats started,” says Svitlana, “they said they would kill my husband, and that I would never see him again.

During the day, she kept calling, saying: “Your husband is torturing you, and it’s your fault!”

“How worried were you about getting over threats to harm Dima? I ask Svitlana. Moisturizes the eyes. “My heart hurt, and I could only pray: ‘God, please don’t let this happen’.”

“Part of me said ‘this person has no connection to prisoners’. The other part asks, ‘And if he really did how would I live with myself?'”

In a statement to the BBC, the SBU said that cooperating with Russian agents “will in no way ease the prisoner’s situation, on the contrary, it can significantly complicate the possibility of an exchange.”

Authorities are urging all relatives to come forward immediately if approached by Russian agents.

They say that those who do so will be treated as “protected” and victims.

But if relatives admit to sabotage or espionage, the SBU says, “this can be classified as treason. The maximum penalty is life imprisonment.”

The authorities regularly announce the arrests of Ukrainians suspected of arson or revealing the location of military sites to Russia.

Pro-Kremlin media is full of videos showing Ukrainians setting fire to army vehicles or railway electrical boxes.

Some of the perpetrators do it for money, allegedly paid by Russian agents, but there are also believed to be attacks by desperate relatives.

Petro Yatsenko, head of the Ukrainian army’s Prisoner of War Treatment Headquarters, says that about 50% of all POW families come into contact with Russian agents.

“They are in a very vulnerable situation and some of them are ready to do anything,” says Petro, “but we are trying to educate them that it will not help them (relatives in captivity).

Petro says that an act like setting fire to a military vehicle is not considered a significant material loss for the Armed Forces of Ukraine:

“But it can destabilize the unity of Ukrainian society, so that’s the main problem.

And, of course, if someone, for example, shares the location of air defense systems, that’s a big problem for us too,” he admitted.

The authorities do not publish the number of Ukrainians held as prisoners of war, but it is believed to be more than 8,000.

A Ukrainian intelligence source told the BBC that the number of cases where relatives agree to work with Russia is small.

The Russian government told the BBC in a statement that the allegations of using prisoners’ families as leverage were “baseless”, and that Russia treats “Ukrainian fighters humanely and in compliance with the Geneva Convention”.

The statement accuses Ukraine of using the same methods:

“Ukrainian handlers are actively trying to get Russia’s neighbors to carry out acts of sabotage and arson on Russian territory, targeting critical infrastructure and civilian facilities.”

Svitlana’s husband Dima was released from captivity just over three months ago.

The couple are happily back together, enjoying playing with their four-year-old son Vova.

How did Svitlana feel when her husband was released?

“There were tears of joy like I’ve never cried before,” she says brightly. “I felt as if I had snatched my love from the jaws of death.”

Dima told his wife that the Russians had not followed through on their threats to punish him for refusing to cooperate.

When Svitlana told her about the calls, she was surprised.

“He asked me how I held it,” she says, and nods. – Well, as I always say, I’m an officer’s wife.