How Russia tries to turn desperate Ukrainians into traitors

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

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

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

The voice at the end of the phone told her that if she committed treason against Ukraine, Dima could 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,” Svitlana explains. “He spoke in a Russian accent.”

“He said, ‘You can either burn down a military enlistment office, set fire to a military vehicle or sabotage a Ukrainian Railways electrical box.'”

There was one other option: to reveal the locations of nearby air defence units — vital military assets that keep Ukraine’s skies safe from Russian drones and missiles.

As Dmitry set out his proposal, Svitlana says she recalled instructions that the Ukrainian authorities had distributed to all families in the event of being approached by Russian agents: buy as much time as possible, record and photograph everything, and report it.

Svitlana did report it, and took screenshots of the messages, which she showed to the BBC.

The Ukrainian Security Service, the SBU, told her to stall the Russians while they investigated. So she pretended to agree to firebomb a local railway line.

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

“Pour in a litre of lighting fluid and add a bit of petrol,” Dmitry explains. “Go to some sort of railway junction. Make sure there are no security cameras. Wear a hat – just in case.”

He also gave Svitlana a tutorial in how to put her phone on airplane mode once she was 1-2km away from her intended target, to avoid her signal being picked up by mobile phone masts that could be used by investigators.

“Do you know what a relay box is? Take a photo of it. This should be the target for her arson attack,” explained Dmitry, who demanded proof of completion of the task.

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

In return, Dmitry said he could arrange a phone call with her husband, or for a parcel to be delivered to him.

Later, the SBU told Svitlana that the man she’d been talking to was indeed in Russia, and she should break off contact. Svitlana told Dmitry she’d changed her mind.

“That’s when the threats began,” says Svitlana, “He said they’d kill my husband, and I’d never see him again.

For days, he kept calling, saying: “Your husband is being tortured, and it’s your fault!”

“How concerned were you that he might go through with the threats to harm Dima?” I ask Svitlana. Her eyes moisten. “My heart ached, and I could only pray: ‘God, please don’t let that happen.'”

“One part of me said ‘this person has no connection with the prisoners.’ The other part asks: ‘What if he really can do it? How would I live with myself?'”

In a statement to the BBC, the SBU said co-operating with Russian agents “will in no way ease the plight of the prisoner; on the contrary, it may significantly complicate their chances of being exchanged.”

The authorities are urging all relatives to come forward immediately if they are approached by Russian agents.

Those who do, they say, will be “protected,” and treated as victims.

But if relatives agree to commit sabotage or espionage, says the SBU, “this may be classified as treason. The maximum punishment is life imprisonment.”

The authorities regularly publicise arrests of Ukrainians who allegedly commit arson or reveal the location of military sites to Russia.

Pro-Kremlin media is awash with videos purporting to show Ukrainians torching army vehicles or railway electrical boxes.

Some of the culprits do it for money, paid by suspected Russian agents, but it is thought there are attacks carried out by desperate relatives, too.

Petro Yatsenko, from the Ukrainian military’s Headquarters for the Treatment of Prisoners of War, says around 50% of all families of PoWs are contacted by Russian agents.

“They’re in a very vulnerable position and some of them are ready to do anything,” Petro says, “but we are trying to educate them that it won’t help [their loved ones in captivity].”

Petro says an act such as setting fire to a military vehicle isn’t considered a significant material loss to the Ukrainian Armed Forces:

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

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

The authorities don’t publish the numbers of Ukrainians held as prisoners of war, but the number is thought to be more than 8,000.

A source in Ukrainian intelligence told the BBC 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 it uses prisoners’ families as leverage are “groundless,” and Russia treats “Ukrainian combatants humanely and in full compliance with the Geneva Convention.”

The statement goes on to accuse Ukraine of using the same methods:

“Ukrainian handlers are actively attempting to coerce residents of Russia to commit acts of sabotage and arson within Russian territory, targeting critical infrastructure and civilian facilities.”

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

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

How did Svitlana feel when her husband was finally set free?

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

Dima told his wife the Russians didn’t act on their threats to punish him for her refusal to co-operate.

When Svitlana told him about the calls, he was shocked.

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