If you think that wars are only about tanks and trenches, you are wrong. The war under the shadow of the Russian invasion of Ukraine is the most tenacious and tricky one, but it is not fought on the battlefield. Schools that were once pure havens of learning and delight have become fighting arenas for a conflict that goes against the Ukrainian character, which wants to reprogram the children’s brains and to make them the army of tomorrow. It is to be scared and to break one’s heart all at once, and it happens exactly here and now.
When Russian soldiers rolled into Ukrainian lands, they did not merely bring firearms—new textbooks, new flags, and a purpose to redefine the very essence of childhood. Russian occupying forces have systematically replaced the education system of Ukraine with Russia’s, Human Rights Watch says, teaching the Russian official curriculum in the Russian language and prohibiting Ukrainian education in occupied territories. It is not just a bureaucratic re-shuffle; it is a breach of international law, an overt assault on the right of children to learn in their own language and to acquire respect for their own cultural identity.
But it’s more than language. The Russian new curriculum is a masterclass in propaganda. History textbooks no longer assert that there is Ukrainian statehood and language, and maps are redone to indicate the Ukrainian territories as part of Russia. The so-called “Maidan” uprising is painted as a bloody coup orchestrated by Western puppeteers, and the full-scale invasion of 2022 is described as a “Special Military Operation” to save “Russian civilization.” If you’re a Ukrainian kid in these classrooms, your own country’s story is being erased before your eyes.
And woe betide anyone who resists. Teachers who refuse to cooperate face threats, arbitrary detention, and even torture. A director of a school in the Kherson region was arrested for 40 days and assaulted for not cooperating. Students who dare to speak Ukrainian can be punished or kidnapped—one boy from Melitopol was expelled from town with a sack over his head for speaking his native language. Parents are threatened with fines, removal of their children, or even worse if they do not send their children to Russian schools. Some parents flee into hiding, fearing their children will be removed or they’ll be drafted into the Russian military.
And yeah, militarization is a definite reality. As reported by the Georgetown University Collaborative on Global Children’s Issues, Russian officials have forcibly deported and militarized thousands of Ukrainian children, channelling them into paramilitary groups such as the “Youth Army” (Yunarmiya), the “Movement of the First,” and “Eagles of Russia”. These organizations do more than instill patriotism—they train children as young as six in arms, tactics, and drone operation, while indoctrinating them in glorification of Russian war “heroes” and demonization of the West. The objective? To get Ukrainian kids ready to battle their homeland.
The psychic cost is massive. Think about being a kid, uprooted from your home, coerced into reciting a foreign national anthem, and informed that all you’ve ever known and believed is a fabrication. As per a review in Nature, kids faced with war, displacement, and trauma have a heightened danger of PTSD, depression, anxiety, and developmental delay. The interruption of education, the displacement from family, and the ever-present danger of violence combine to create a perfect storm for lasting psychological damage. And for those who are abducted or indoctrinated, the wounds may remain for life.
But amidst this assault, there are flashes of resistance and hope. Ukrainian officials, civil society actors, and international bodies have been laboring to record abuses, assist victim families, and keep the light of Ukrainian education burning—despite the occupation. Websites, underground schools, and networks of heroic educators are allowing children to study secretly, frequently at considerable personal cost. The government of Ukraine has also streamlined registration processes for displaced children and is implementing mental health support initiatives to assist children and educators in recovering.
But the obstacles are huge. Russian officials have shut down Ukrainian online learning platforms, seized equipment, and punished families caught attempting to maintain their children’s links with home. Teachers who remained behind to guard their pupils are frequently in a state of limbo—cooperate and become branded as traitors, or resist and suffer brutality from occupying troops.
The world has referred to these actions by what they are: war crimes. The International Criminal Court issued arrest warrants for Russian President Vladimir Putin and Children’s Rights Commissioner Maria Lvova-Belova for their implication in the illegal deportation and forced adoption of Ukrainian children. Justice is slow, though, and for each child repatriated, hundreds of others remain stuck in the machinery of occupation and indoctrination.
So the next time you consider war, keep this in mind: it’s not about politics or land. It’s about the struggle for children’s futures, hearts, and minds. In Ukraine, it’s unfolding in every home, playground, and school where a child imagines freedom. And its result will determine not only the destiny of a country, but the essence of a generation.