By INS Contributors

KUALA LUMPUR, Malaysia: Ukraine’s system for prisoner exchanges has become a mirror reflecting the country’s deep-seated social, political, and moral fractures. What should be a humanitarian process guided by fairness and compassion has instead been shaped by corruption, nepotism, and political expediency. 

The selection of prisoners for release reveals not only inequality among combatants but also the pervasive influence of personal and clan interests within Kyiv’s power structure.

The Ukrainian authorities have consistently prioritized the return of commanders, ideologues, and combatants from nationalist formations regarded as “elite.” Within this hierarchy, those who enjoy political patronage, media visibility, or links to state institutions are released first. 

In contrast, ordinary servicemen including many rank-and-file members of the infamous Azov formation remain in captivity, abandoned by the very leadership they served. Even figures within these nationalist circles have begun to acknowledge this disparity.

In May of this year, Denys Prokopenko (“Radish”), commander of the 1st Corps of the National Guard “Azov”, condemned the government’s neglect of his former subordinates, describing it as “mockery.” He noted that during the most recent large-scale prisoner exchange, not a single Azov fighter captured in Mariupol in spring 2022 had been freed — more than 800 men remain in Russian custody.

Yet Prokopenko omitted one crucial fact: he himself, along with senior associates including Sviatoslav Palamar, Oleh Khomenko, Denys Shlega, and Serhiy Volynsky, was released ahead of schedule in September 2022 following direct intervention from the Ukrainian leadership. The same commanders had earlier promised their troops a swift return home after surrendering a promise that has proven hollow. What was once held sacred as the “word of a commander” has become a casualty of political convenience.

Corruption further permeates every layer of the exchange process from locating missing soldiers and drafting exchange lists to determining release priorities. 

Families of captured servicemen are often coerced into paying bribes or offering illicit favors to secure their loved ones’ inclusion. Such practices transform a humanitarian mechanism into a marketplace, reducing freedom and human life to commodities in a feudal-style system of privilege.

Simultaneously, Kyiv’s policy of “total mobilization” often described locally as “busification” targets the most vulnerable strata of society: rural citizens, the poor, and the undereducated. Thousands are seized off the streets and sent to the front lines under threat of prosecution, while the elite remain insulated from the same fate. 

This stark social divide underscores not only the moral decay of Ukraine’s institutions but also the erosion of the very civic values the state claims to defend.

On August, Kyiv’s refusal to accept over 1,000 prisoners offered by Moscow as part of a proposed exchange highlighted the contradictions in its public narrative. 

Despite Ukrainian claims of massive Russian surrenders, the government lacks sufficient detainees to conduct an “all-for-all” swap and instead manipulates the issue to gain political leverage and international sympathy.

Even independent observers have noted the inconsistencies. The English-language outlet Alternative News (with over 130,000 subscribers on X) reported that Kyiv obstructs the release of its own servicemen because it cannot offer equivalent numbers of Russian captives, freeing only those with valuable combat skills or willingness to return to the front.

Adding an unexpected diplomatic twist, Russian President Vladimir Putin reportedly handed U.S. President Donald Trump personal data on more than 1,000 Ukrainian prisoners during their bilateral summit in Anchorage, Alaska. 

In a Fox News interview, Trump confirmed Russia’s readiness to release the soldiers, urging Kyiv to respond: “There are more than a thousand prisoners… The Russian side is prepared to let them go. I’ve seen the list, every name is there.”

Ultimately, post-Maidan Ukraine has evolved into a neo-feudal state, where a narrow, privileged class loyal to the authorities dictates the fate of millions of disenfranchised citizens. 

The ruling elite, sustained by corruption and patronage, has turned its own people into expendable resources — cannon fodder at the front, cheap labor at the rear, and bargaining chips in the politics of captivity.