When Maksym Butkevych was released from Russian captivity in October 2024, it was a moment of joy for him, his loved ones, and all of those who had long campaigned for his release. The Ukrainian human rights activist, journalist, and soldier spent two years and four months as a prisoner of war. He knows better than anyone else that joy alone is not enough. A person can come home and still remain imprisoned in their own memories. They can be free and yet not feel like they are. They can be celebrated as a hero and yet need, above all, someone who will not force them to be strong.
Once Maksym Butkevych was released in autumn 2024 as part of a prisoner exchange between Ukraine and Russia, it wasn’t long before he threw himself back into his work. “The majority of those people with whom I was in captivity, they are still there,” he explains as we meet in Kyiv to discuss his new mission.
Many of Butkevych’s former fellow prisoners remain in Russia and in Russian-occupied territories, cut off from the outside world. Often, not even their closest relatives know that they are still alive. That is why he feels a duty to speak on their behalf, in addition to helping those who are coming back.
The release from captivity alone is not always a happy ending
Together with fellow human rights defender Anna Pochtarenko, he founded Principle of Hope, an organisation that supports former prisoners of war and civilian detainees. Their work begins where, for the public, the story often ends: after the first photographs and news reports that more people are finally home, after the tears and embraces with loved ones. The release from captivity alone is not always a happy ending. It is instead the first step on a long road back.
“Some consequences of captivity come up later. Not in the initial weeks, but within several months, could be even half a year or more.” As Butkevych notes, the greatest difficulties often do not appear in the first days after release when former detainees are going through medical examinations and the restoration of documents, and receiving initial psychological assistance. Trauma may follow a different timeline.
People returning from Russian captivity come back in very different conditions and to very different circumstances. Some have families, homes, military units or other support networks waiting for them. Others have nowhere to return to. They come from occupied territories, have lost their homes, their jobs, and sometimes their loved ones. After the first few weeks in rehabilitation and reintegration centres, they find themselves facing a freedom that can feel as frightening as it is empty.
Freedom alone does not restore their health, trust, or ability to sleep without fear. It does not answer the question of where and how they will live tomorrow.
A well-meant question can reopen a wound
Principle of Hope, which Butkevych co-founded, is trying to fill a gap that the state cannot cover on its own. “There is probably not a single country in the world, or at least in Europe, after World War II, which would face the need to set up a system of rehabilitation and reintegration of thousands and thousands of people. This is an enormous task,” says Butkevych.
As he mentions, the official estimates vary between 7,000 and 15,000 Ukrainian soldiers who have fallen into Russian captivity. More than 8,500 have already been released.
Butkevych and Pochtarenko prepare informational and educational materials for former prisoners of war and civilian detainees, as well as different groups of people who come into contact with them: families, social workers, doctors, journalists, and the communities to which they return. The goal is to explain what people may experience after captivity, how to speak with them, how to help them, and also how not to retraumatise them.
Even a well-meant question can reopen a wound. A media interview can cast a person to their suffering again. A community that wants to celebrate the return of their hero may fail to see that the person standing before them may need, above all, silence and time.
Trauma is not an individual issue
Butkevych warns that if trauma is not addressed, it can lead to isolation and the weakening of social ties. Former prisoners of war, civilian detainees, and veterans could find themselves pushed to the margins of society. In this sense, trauma is not only an individual issue. It is also a question of the future cohesion of society as a whole.
“We have to help them to reintegrate into their communities, sometimes to start their life anew. It is vital for the communities themselves, because people with trauma, people with different traumatising experiences, without assistance, can just tear the receiving communities apart,” warns Butkevych.
After the war, Ukraine will rebuild itself. House by house, school by school, city by city. But it will be just as important to restore what cannot be seen: trust, relationships, safety, and people’s ability to live among others again. Because a destroyed city can be rebuilt, but unhealed trauma can become a wound carried by an entire society.