REPORT: One Hundred and Sixty Faces: The 76th Prisoner Exchange and the Dignity Russia Cannot Steal

Abu Dhabi: An Unlikely Yet Indispensable Mediator

Since 2022, the United Arab Emirates has become one of the most active and discreet mediators in the humanitarian aspects of the war. Its role in prisoner exchanges has been well documented for several months—Ukrainian authorities have repeatedly acknowledged the UAE’s mediation efforts. But why the UAE? The answer lies in its unique geopolitical position: Abu Dhabi maintains economic and diplomatic relations with Russia while publicly affirming principles of sovereignty that make it acceptable to Kyiv. This dual relationship—frustrating from the perspective of those who advocate for a total condemnation of Russia—is precisely what makes the UAE useful as a mediator.

The UAE’s mediation on prisoner exchanges follows a proven model: discretion in negotiations, apparent neutrality on the terms, and a focus on humanitarian aspects without taking a stance on political issues. This model has the advantage of preserving the viability of future exchanges—if the UAE were to take a public stance on political issues, it would lose its access to Moscow. Its humanitarian effectiveness therefore depends on its political ambiguity—an ambiguity that the Ukrainians accept because the concrete result—prisoners returning home—justifies this pragmatism.

A Mediation Model That Could Be Useful in the Future

Beyond the prisoner exchanges themselves, the UAE’s mediation illustrates a model of diplomacy that could prove useful in future scenarios. It demonstrates that it is possible to maintain channels of communication with Russia without legitimizing its political positions, and that certain aspects of the war—notably the fate of those taken captive—can be the subject of partial agreements even in the absence of agreement on fundamental issues.

This model has clear limitations—the UAE cannot guarantee that prisoners’ rights will be respected during their detention; it can only secure their release. And their neutrality carries a moral cost that some Ukrainian observers have rightly pointed out: by failing to condemn Russia for its illegal detention conditions, the UAE allows Moscow to continue these practices without international sanctions. It is a difficult compromise that Kyiv accepts because the alternative—no exchange at all—is worse. But this compromise must be acknowledged.

The UAE’s mediation makes me uncomfortable, and I admit it. The UAE trades with Russia despite the sanctions. It does not condemn the detention conditions. But it is releasing prisoners. And at the end of the day, when those 160 people cross the border, it is thanks to this mediation. I cannot reject something that produces this result, however imperfect the framework may be.

The Meaning of the Number 9500

Since February 24, 2022, more than 9,500 Ukrainians have been released from Russian captivity through prisoner exchanges. This figure, reported by Interfax-Ukraine as of June 26, 2026, must be viewed in context. It represents those who have been released—those who have returned home. It does not indicate how many are still being held. Estimates of the number of Ukrainian prisoners still in Russian hands vary, but human rights organizations cite figures that are several times the number of those released. There is still a long way to go.

It is also important to distinguish between military prisoners—soldiers captured in combat, who are theoretically entitled to protection under the Geneva Conventions—and civilian prisoners—those detained illegally without combatant status. The conditions for the latter are often even more precarious, as their detention is itself illegal under international humanitarian law, and they have even less formal protection than military personnel. The exchanges include both categories, but monitoring is more difficult for civilians, who are often held in undeclared facilities.

What the Numbers Hide: The Unidentified and the Missing

Behind the tally of those released are also those about whom nothing is known. Soldiers missing since the battles of 2022, of whom no trace has been found in prisoner registers. Civilians deported to remote Russian regions, from whom their families have lost all contact. Minors separated from their families—a phenomenon documented by the UN that led to the issuance of an international arrest warrant against Putin and Children’s Rights Commissioner Maria Lvova-Belova. These people, invisible in the tally, may be the hardest victims to reach and the most important ones not to forget.

The Human Rights Commissioner of the Verkhovna Rada (the Ukrainian parliament) maintains updated lists of detainees and missing persons, in coordination with the International Red Cross. This documentation work is essential for future exchanges—every name in these records represents a life that could potentially be saved. And every successful exchange demonstrates that this documentation work is not in vain.

The deported children haunt me more than any other aspect of this conflict. Minors torn from their families, taken to Russia, likely adopted by Russian families as part of a policy that the UN has described as a possible crime against humanity. These children do not return through prisoner exchanges. They need a different kind of justice.

A Steady Pace Amid a Stalled Diplomatic Situation

Volodymyr Zelensky personally announced the return of the 160 prisoners on June 26, as he does for every significant exchange. This practice—the president himself communicating such news—carries significant symbolic weight. It tells every prisoner’s family that the head of state is thinking of their loved ones, is monitoring their cases, and has made their return a personal priority.

The figure of 1,596 released in 2026 (as of June 26)—an average of about 270 per month—represents a steady pace in the context of a conflict where broader political negotiations are completely deadlocked. It demonstrates that both sides—despite being in a state of open war—have found a mechanism that works on this specific issue. This is not a matter of goodwill: it is a matter of mutual interest managed by competent intermediaries. But the result is real.

The Psychological Dimension of Return

A prisoner’s return is not the end of their story—it is the beginning of a new, often difficult phase. Prisoners released in previous exchanges have testified, in interviews with Ukrainian journalists and medical teams, to traumatic conditions of detention. They return with physical injuries—malnutrition, signs of violence, untreated illnesses—and psychological wounds that often take longer to heal. Post-traumatic stress disorder is nearly universal among former long-term detainees.

Since 2022, Ukraine has developed care protocols for released prisoners: immediate medical examinations, psychological support, gradual reintegration with their families, and legal assistance with administrative procedures. These protocols exist and are effective, even though the available resources fall short of what is needed. Every released prisoner faces a long road to recovery—and the Ukrainian government, despite its own wartime challenges, has committed to walking that road with them.

The rehabilitation of released prisoners is an aspect of this war that is rarely discussed. Military victory, if it comes, will leave behind thousands of traumatized people who will need massive and sustained support. Ukraine will have to find the resources—both material and human—for this internal reconstruction. This is one of the reasons why Russian reparations are not an abstract issue.

Refusing to Let Prisoners Be Forgotten

There is a moral and symbolic dimension to prisoner exchanges that goes beyond geopolitics. By continuing these exchanges and refusing to abandon its prisoners to their fate, Ukraine is making an important statement about who it is as a state and as a society. It is saying that its soldiers and civilians are not disposable resources. It is saying that their captivity is not a fait accompli that must be accepted. It is saying that their return is a national priority—not a diplomatic concession, not a bargaining chip, but a duty.

This message stands in stark contrast to the way Russia treats its own dead and captives—the statistics on missing Russian soldiers, the Russian families who have never received their sons’ bodies, the Russian soldiers captured by Ukraine whose fate elicits far less official communication from Moscow than declarations of military victory. Russia treats its soldiers as equipment. Ukraine treats its own as people. This difference says something fundamental about the two societies.

The dignity that Russian prisons could not steal

Testimonies from released prisoners often describe attempts by Russian jailers to shatter their identities—forcing them to say on camera that Ukraine is a “Nazi state,” compelling them to sign surrender statements, and forcing them to watch propaganda documentaries. According to testimonies collected by human rights organizations, many prisoners resisted—silently or actively—these attempts at forced re-education. This resistance—under extreme conditions of detention, without a lawyer, without contact with the outside world—is a form of courage that heroic war narratives rarely celebrate but that deserves just as much recognition.

Ukrainian identity, the awareness of defending something just, the refusal to capitulate psychologically even when the body is captive—these are what hundreds of freed prisoners have cited as their primary inner resource. This resistance of identity is a victory that Russia has been unable to achieve. And it speaks to something essential about the nature of this war: it is not merely a territorial battle. It is a battle for the right to be Ukrainian.

These accounts of the prisoners’ psychological resistance move me deeply. They illustrate something that Russian propaganda fails to understand: you do not destroy a national identity by imprisoning it. You strengthen it. The Ukraine that emerges from this war will be a nation more self-aware than the one that entered it.

A Humanitarian Success in a Political Desert

The June 26 exchange comes amid a total diplomatic deadlock on fundamental issues. Putin’s statements on the “Istanbul agreements” have been analyzed as a rhetorical maneuver without any real willingness to compromise, as documented by the ISW that same day. The 21st round of European sanctions is currently being negotiated but is running into the same resistance. Military positions have relatively stabilized on some fronts but remain contested on others.

Amid this landscape of multiple deadlocks, prisoner exchanges represent the only real and measurable positive development between the two sides. They do not alter the strategic balance. They do not bring the end of the war any closer. But they keep alive a principle—that the return of every person taken captive is possible and must be pursued—which could easily have been sacrificed in a conflict of this duration and intensity. The fact that it survives is, in itself, a modest but real humanitarian victory.

What the exchange means for the families

For each of the 160 families who were reunited with a father, son, daughter, brother, or mother that day, the exchange on June 26 is not just a number in a press release. It is the light at the end of a tunnel whose exit they were not sure they would ever see. Many of these families waited for months—sometimes more than a year—without any news, without confirmation that their loved one was alive. Previous exchanges had given them hope; some had had to endure the disappointment of seeing lists published without the name they were looking for.

This individual and family dimension of the prisoner issue is perhaps the most politically significant, even though it is rarely mentioned in geopolitical analyses. In Ukraine, the families of prisoners are an active, organized social group that maintains constant pressure on the authorities to speed up prisoner exchanges. They have networks, associations, and contacts with government teams. Their mobilization is a direct expression of Ukrainian civil society—a civil society that, despite four years of war, has not abandoned its most vulnerable members.

The families of Ukrainian prisoners are among the bravest people this war has produced. They wait without certainty, they campaign tirelessly, and they keep the faith in a return that may never come. Their silent endurance deserves just as much attention as the strategic decisions of military leadership.

Russia’s Participation: Self-Interest or Cynicism?

Why does Russia continue to participate in these exchanges when it is under sanctions, at war, and its political positions are radically incompatible with those of Ukraine? The answer lies in practical self-interest: Russia recovers its own captive soldiers—soldiers who, if they remained prisoners in Ukraine, would represent a permanent political cost (Russian families demanding their return) and a humanitarian burden for Ukraine. The one-for-one exchanges allow Moscow to recover its military personnel without making any political concessions.

There is also an international communications dimension: the exchanges allow Russia to present itself as an actor that “still respects” certain humanitarian norms, which contradicts the narrative of a total pariah state. This communications benefit is real for Moscow, even if it is disproportionate to the reality of human rights violations in its detention facilities. This is one of the reasons why human rights organizations insist that detention conditions be documented and publicly named, even when exchanges are taking place—to prevent the exchanges from serving as a cover for violations.

The Message to Ukraine and Its Allies

For Ukraine, every successful exchange sends several signals at once. To its Western allies: Ukraine maintains channels of communication with Russia wherever possible and legitimate, without compromising its political positions. To its own population: the government is doing everything it can to recover its captives, even in the midst of all-out war. And to those who doubted that exchanges were possible: proof that the process works and can continue.

It also sends an indirect signal to Moscow: Ukraine is ready to cooperate on humanitarian issues while maintaining total resistance on political matters. This combination—total firmness on substance, pragmatic flexibility on humanitarian issues—is a sophisticated diplomatic stance that requires a level of political discipline few governments at war manage to maintain. Zelenskyy and his teams have maintained it for four years. That is remarkable.

The combination of political firmness and humanitarian flexibility that Ukraine maintains in its handling of prisoners is an example of mature diplomacy that far more powerful countries would do well to study. Under incredibly difficult circumstances, Kyiv has struck the right balance between principle and pragmatism.

Ukraine’s Treatment of Russian Prisoners

One-for-one prisoner exchanges imply that Ukraine also holds Russian prisoners—soldiers captured during combat or special operations. Ukraine’s treatment of these prisoners is monitored by international organizations, notably the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC). Available reports indicate that Ukraine generally complies with the standards of the Geneva Conventions in its treatment of prisoners, although isolated incidents have been documented and housing conditions in some facilities are deemed inadequate by certain observers.

This asymmetry—systemic and documented violations on the Russian side, overall compliance with isolated incidents on the Ukrainian side—is significant. It reflects a difference in institutional culture and priorities between the two states. It must not be exploited to deny the Ukrainian incidents—which do exist and must be addressed. But it must be acknowledged for what it is: a real asymmetry that carries moral and legal significance in the assessment of both parties’ conduct.

North Korean Prisoners: An Additional Complication

A new development has complicated the handling of prisoners: the presence of North Korean soldiers in Russian ranks, fighting in Ukraine. According to Caliber.az on June 23, 2026, Seoul has opened the door to discussions on the fate of North Korean prisoners held in Ukraine. This issue adds another layer of complexity: these soldiers are not Russian citizens; they are nationals of a third country (North Korea), and their potential repatriation raises questions about their rights and what would await them upon returning to a country whose regime does not look kindly upon those who have seen the outside world.

The Ukrainian government has handled this matter with caution, seeking to involve international organizations and third-party governments to find solutions in accordance with international law. The presence of these North Korean soldiers is also symptomatic of a broader dimension of the conflict: the international coalition supporting Russia—North Korea, Iran—which complicates every aspect of the conflict, including humanitarian issues.

These North Korean soldiers held captive in Ukraine are a vivid illustration that this war is not a bilateral conflict between Russia and Ukraine. It is a conflict in which figures like Kim Jong-un are sending their young men to die for Putin’s territorial ambitions. The cynicism of this alliance deserves to be clearly named.

Military Pressure and Humanitarian Releases: A Coherent Strategy

Zelensky’s announcement of a 40-day military pressure campaign targeting Russian infrastructure, combined with the June 26 prisoner exchange, illustrates Ukraine’s overall strategy: to maximize pressure on all fronts simultaneously. Military pressure—strikes on refineries, fuel depots, and logistics hubs—aims to weaken Russia’s war-fighting capacity. Prisoner exchanges aim to maintain Ukrainian social cohesion and signal that the war has a humanitarian purpose beyond military objectives.

These two dimensions are not contradictory—they reinforce one another. A society that sees its prisoners return has greater resilience to sustain continued resistance. And an army that knows its soldiers will not be abandoned fights with a different level of commitment than those who doubt they will be rescued if captured. Prisoner management cannot be separated from military strategy—it is an essential component of it.

What Putin Cannot Capture: Ukrainian Solidarity

Four years after the war began, one of the most remarkable developments is the persistence of Ukrainian social cohesion. Countries that were preparing for a Ukraine that would collapse within weeks are now observing a society that is holding together, adapting, maintaining its institutions, continuing to organize prisoner exchanges, and receiving hundreds of released prisoners while integrating them into care and rehabilitation programs.

This cohesion is not magic—it is the product of considerable political and social effort, of leaders who chose to remain in the country rather than flee, and of a population that collectively decided that its survival was worth more than individual safety. Putin may have been able to capture soldiers. He was not able to capture Ukrainian solidarity. And it is this solidarity—demonstrated once again by the return of these 160 people—that makes the difference between a nation and a collection of territories.

When I read the news about this 76th exchange, I feel more than just compassion for those who have been freed. I feel something akin to admiration for the society that welcomes them. A society at war, exhausted and battered, yet still finding the strength to organize dignified welcome ceremonies for its returnees. It is a testament to civilization that I do not wish to downplay.

The Scale of the Prisoner Issue

It is impossible to give a precise figure for the number of Ukrainian prisoners still being held in Russia. Estimates vary considerably depending on the sources and the definitions used—military prisoners only, or also civilians detained illegally? The figures cited by specialized organizations range from several thousand to several tens of thousands, depending on the criteria. What is known for certain is that the current pace of prisoner exchanges—approximately 270 per month in 2026—would not, even if maintained indefinitely, allow for the release of all detainees in less than several years.

This math raises a difficult political question: Is the complete release of all Ukrainian prisoners possible through exchanges alone, or does it require a comprehensive peace agreement that would include provisions for full release? The answer, as virtually all experts agree, is this: partial prisoner exchanges can continue indefinitely, but full release requires a comprehensive agreement. This is one of the reasons why even those who are most skeptical about a swift peace cannot completely dismiss this diplomatic goal—because thousands of prisoners depend on it.

Maintaining the Pace, Expanding Exchanges

In this context, the most immediate practical goal is to maintain and, if possible, expand the pace of exchanges. This requires several conditions: that intermediaries (the UAE and others) maintain their access to both sides; that prisoner lists be kept up to date and that new captives be quickly added to the exchange files; and that international pressure—via human rights organizations, allied governments, and UN bodies—keep both sides in compliance with their humanitarian obligations.

Each successful exchange also sets a precedent and creates momentum: it demonstrates that the operation is feasible, establishes well-honed procedures, and builds a basic working relationship between the intermediaries and both parties. This positive momentum—which is fragile and dependent on the continuation of current political conditions—is a valuable humanitarian asset that must be preserved.

My thoughts go out to those who are still detained—thousands of names on lists, perhaps tens of thousands according to some estimates. Every June 26 that passes with a successful exchange is a victory. But it is not enough. The pace must increase. The pressure must increase. These people cannot wait indefinitely.

Every released prisoner is a witness

Beyond their immediate humanitarian value, released prisoners play an essential role in documenting war crimes. Their testimonies—collected under appropriate medical and psychological conditions by specialized teams—constitute an irreplaceable primary source of information on Russian detention conditions, places of incarceration, documented torture practices, and the command structures responsible. These testimonies contribute to the case files of the International Criminal Court (ICC) and other international justice mechanisms that will one day be called to account.

This aspect of the exchanges—the judicial dimension—is rarely mentioned in official statements, for obvious practical reasons: if Moscow knows that every released prisoner automatically becomes a potential witness against Russian officers, this could block future exchanges. The documentation is therefore carried out discreetly, within medical records, without being presented as the primary objective. But the result is real: the archives that have been compiled since 2022, testimony after testimony, form a legal case of unprecedented scope in the recent history of war crimes in Europe.

Justice Delayed but Inevitable

The released prisoners are bearers of a truth that Putin’s regime would like to keep secret. In this sense, their return is also a legal victory: each testimony is another piece of evidence in the case for international accountability for crimes committed in Russian prisons. Justice will be a long, difficult, and imperfect process—international courts always are. But it is inevitable. And every prisoner exchange contributes to it, even indirectly.

That is not the main reason these exchanges take place. They happen because human beings deserve to return home. But the legal dimension is present, real, and must be acknowledged. History will remember what happened in Russian prisons. The testimonies of those released will ensure that history cannot ignore it.

I am convinced that justice for the crimes of this war will come—not quickly, not perfectly, but it will come. The archives of testimonies compiled since 2022 are the foundation of this future justice. And every released prisoner who agrees to testify contributes to a victory that missiles cannot achieve.

Continuity as a Moral Commitment

The 76th exchange has taken place. The 77th is likely already in the works, through discreet negotiations whose details will not be known until the operation is complete. This is how humanitarian diplomacy works—discreetly, away from the spotlight, guided by pragmatism rather than political visibility. And that’s as it should be: what matters is the result—people returning home—not the spectacle.

What must change, however, is the scale. The conditions for a significant increase in the pace of these exchanges exist, provided the political will of both parties allows for it. Increased international pressure, particularly from countries in the Global South that maintain relations with Moscow, could help accelerate this process. European and American governments seeking to show a human face to their support for Ukraine have a concrete issue here—no missiles, no tanks, just human beings who deserve to return home.

Dignity, the Weapon of Resistance

In conclusion, the 160 people released on June 26, 2026, carry with them something that Russia sought to take from them but failed to do so: their dignity. Their Ukrainian identity. The refusal to capitulate psychologically. And upon their return, they bring something back to Ukrainian society—proof that resistance matters, that collective efforts yield real results, and that individuals matter even in a war that crushes everything.

One hundred sixty faces. One hundred sixty stories. One hundred sixty reasons why this war must end—and end well. The dignity that Russia could not steal is the most powerful argument for continuing to fight, to resist, and to demand justice.

By Maxime Marquette, columnist

The numbers speak for themselves, but you have to know how to read them. Behind every economic figure, behind every statistic on sanctions or prisoners, there are real political decisions and concrete human lives that Excel spreadsheets can never fully capture.

Thousands of Minors Torn from Their Families

Among the most invisible victims of this war are Ukrainian children deported to Russia. The UN and several human rights organizations have documented tens of thousands of minors forcibly taken to Russia since 2022—sometimes along with their displaced families, often separated from them. The International Criminal Court has issued arrest warrants for Vladimir Putin and Russian Children’s Rights Commissioner Maria Lvova-Belova specifically for this policy of deporting children.

These children are not being returned through military prisoner exchanges. They require specific diplomatic efforts, identification mechanisms, and pressure on third-party governments. Ukrainian organizations specializing in the return of these children—notably the “Bring Kids Back UA” initiative—document each case and maintain international pressure that governments should not ignore.

International Justice as a Goal

The ICC’s arrest warrant against Putin for the deportation of children remains symbolically powerful but practically limited: Russia does not recognize the court’s jurisdiction and will not hand over its leaders. Nevertheless, this warrant has real effects: it restricts Putin’s international travel, sends a signal to diplomatic partners, and enshrines in international law a legal characterization of Russia’s actions that no one can erase.

The documentation of child deportation cases, compiled by Ukrainian authorities and international organizations, constitutes a first-rate legal dossier for future proceedings. Every child found and returned to Ukraine is both a humanitarian victory and another piece of evidence in the case against a regime that believes itself to be above international law. History will judge those who made this deportation possible.

These deported children haunt me more than any other aspect of this conflict. They are not soldiers, not combatants—they are children. And forcibly taking them away to “Russify” them is the most brutal expression of what this regime wants to do to Ukraine: not only to seize its territory, but to erase its very identity. It is a crime against humanity, and it must be called out as such.

Pyongyang in the Ukrainian Trenches

The presence of North Korean soldiers fighting alongside Russian forces in Ukraine—documented since late 2024 and confirmed by multiple sources, including Ukrainian and South Korean intelligence agencies—represents a troubling dimension of the war’s internationalization. Tens of thousands of Kim Jong-un’s soldiers have been sent to fight in Ukraine—young men who often do not know which country they are in.

Seoul’s decision to explore ways to address the situation of North Korean prisoners held by Ukraine illustrates the complexity of this issue. These soldiers are both victims of a regime that sent them to fight without safeguards and combatants in an enemy army. Their repatriation raises questions of unprecedented diplomatic complexity.

The Russia-North Korea Axis: An Alliance of Destabilization

North Korea’s military involvement in Ukraine is inextricably linked to the broader relationship between Moscow and Pyongyang. In exchange for its soldiers and ammunition, North Korea receives Russian military technology—particularly in the fields of missiles and spy satellites. This exchange mutually strengthens two regimes whose common goal is to challenge the Western-led international order.

For Seoul and Tokyo, North Korea’s involvement in Ukraine is therefore also a direct regional security concern: military technology transferred to Pyongyang could end up in ballistic missile programs aimed at South Korea. Ukraine is part of a global security issue that links the European front to the Indo-Pacific front.

The presence of North Korean soldiers in Ukraine is one of the most concrete examples of the global authoritarian axis. These are not volunteer mercenaries—they are young men from Pyongyang dying in the trenches of Donetsk for Putin’s territorial ambitions. The cynicism of this alliance cannot be underestimated.