Interview with film director Tetiana Khodakivska

Film director Tetiana Khodakivska has made a film about children abducted by Russia and the trauma support they receive after their return. An interview by Emilia Sulek.

Tetiana Khodakivska, the theme of children and war runs like a sad thread through your professional life. How did that come about? 

In 2012, I directed the drama "Angels of War." It tells the story of Ukrainian children in a German camp during World War II, where they were abused for medical purposes. I'm currently working on a documentary that tells a similar story from present-day Ukraine. Thousands of Ukrainian children are being deported from Russia, deprived of their rights, and subjected to physical and psychological violence. This is shocking because it means history is repeating itself and we've learned nothing from it.
 

What should we have learned from this?

We still live in a society where children are defenseless against propaganda. Children know not to get into strangers' cars, but we haven't taught them how to defend themselves against manipulation. Perhaps we simply lacked the means to do so. Or perhaps we mistakenly assumed that the age of propaganda was over once and for all.
 

You grew up in formerly communist Ukraine. Did you have any personal experience with propaganda during your childhood there?

Yes, in the 1980s, during my childhood, Ukraine was part of the USSR. At school, I had to memorize poems about Vladimir Lenin and communism. Communist rule cost half my family and millions of Ukrainians their lives. That era is hardly different from today's Russian re-education camps, where Ukrainian children are forced to sing the Russian national anthem. Clearly, propaganda didn't disappear with the end of the Cold War, as the stories of children told in my film also demonstrate.

How has propaganda changed since your childhood?

Propaganda used to be characterized by red banners and slogans. Today's propaganda is different. Russia produces propaganda on numerous digital channels, reaching users' private spaces via their smartphones. Artificial intelligence makes it easier than ever to create parallel worlds. Uninformed users can hardly verify their authenticity. Children are particularly vulnerable, although adults are not immune to such content either.

"The children must also show gratitude to their 'rescuers' every day. If they don't, they will be punished."

Where does your interest in propaganda come from? 

From the television project "Crimea: Lessons from History" about Russia's annexation of Crimea in 2014. At the time, I analyzed tons of Russian media content. The stories seemed so absurd to me, like the story about drug-filled oranges supposedly distributed on Kyiv's Maidan during the Orange Revolution in 2014. Or the Russian television program "Crucified Boy," in which an alleged eyewitness claimed that Ukrainian soldiers were crucifying children in the Donbas. All to justify the Russian military intervention. At first, I laughed about it, but after two or three weeks, I started to doubt my own perception. The mind struggles to dismiss it all as lies and searches for fragments of truth. It was frightening to realize how I could no longer trust myself.       
 

Now Russia claims it is saving Ukrainian children.

It's paradoxical to bomb children in order to then "save" them. But yes, "saving" children is part of the Russian war narrative. The children I interviewed mentioned it repeatedly. This shows how prevalent this narrative is in Russian re-education camps. The children are also required to show gratitude to their "saviors" every single day. If they don't, they are punished. Meduza, a Russian online news outlet operating from exile, reported on a case in Mariupol where schoolchildren broke a desk. They had to apologize publicly for it—not just for the desk, but for their lack of gratitude. These children had everything taken from them: their families, their homes, their country. And then they're supposed to show gratitude?
 

And then there's the confusion with all the mixed information.

Yes, exactly. For every wartime event, the Russian media offers roughly ten versions of how it supposedly unfolded. Let's look at the siege of Mariupol as an example. First, it was said to be staged, then it was the Ukrainians who besieged the city, then other stories emerged. You get lost in a cloud of contradictory information, and in the end, you can't decide which version is the correct one.
 

And is the situation similar with the children who are abducted to Russia?

Yes, many different figures are circulating in the media, sometimes higher, sometimes lower. People simply don't know what to believe anymore, so they don't believe anything at all. That's also the effect of propaganda. 
 

Sometimes Russian politicians admit that 700,000 children from Ukraine " refuge" in Russia. Then, the Russian Federal Commissioner for Children's Rights, Maria Lvova-Belova, claims that fewer than 500 children have been placed in Russian foster families. It's hard to imagine figures that are further apart than these.

Sowing confusion is a strategy.
 

But not all the numbers are made up. 

No, Ukraine and the UN agree on the number of 19,546 deported children (as of January 16, 2024). However, the whereabouts of most of the children, especially the youngest, are unknown. Russia gives them new names and issues them new passports. According to the latest findings from the UN Committee on the Rights of the Child in January 2024, Russia has issued over 49,000 passports to Ukrainian children.
 

Russia's Federal Commissioner for Children's Rights insists that no Ukrainian children will be released for adoption in Russia.

Well, if their citizenship is changed before the adoption, then technically they are no longer Ukrainians. 

"Because of her disobedience, Kira was forcibly admitted to a psychiatric clinic; this is common practice in Russian re-education camps."

The media depend on numbers. What could be considered realistic numbers?

Even a single abducted child is one too many. The Humanitarian Research Lab at Yale University analyzed Russian open-source data and concluded that at least 130,000 Ukrainian children were deported to Russia. Other estimates are even higher. It's important to note that not only the Ukrainian government is trying to uncover the truth, but also many independent research institutions. Their figures are based on real data, unlike those from the Kremlin, where there is zero transparency.
 

Saving a single child requires an entire team of people. So far, over 400 children have been brought home. Their team has visited the repatriated children in Kherson and Kharkiv, in Kyiv and Odessa.

Yes. We conducted over sixty interviews and ten film-related drawing sessions. The film features three protagonists, Kira (10), Taisa (14) and Artem (15), but other children also contributed to the film.
 

Kira, Taisa, and Artem have endured six months of deportation. What have they experienced?

Because of her disobedience, Kira was forcibly committed to a psychiatric hospital, a common practice in Russian re-education camps. Artem had to choose between Russian military training and being punished in an isolation cell. Taisa contributed the title to the film. She was forced to destroy her sweater because the Ukrainian colors blue and yellow are banned in the camp. They all experienced different forms of violence. Their stories reflect those of thousands of other children.
 

How do you choose the children?

Save Ukraine, the organization coordinating the rescue of deported children, is in contact with the parents and suggests a meeting with us. The child and parents decide for themselves whether they are ready. At our meetings, the children can draw about their experiences or simply talk about them. Some of the children have never spoken about their experiences before but are willing to draw them. Whichever medium they choose, the golden rule is: We follow the children's lead. If they have questions, they can ask them. If they don't want to continue, we stop at any time. The stories belong to the children; we are simply there to receive them.  
 

But you're asking questions?

Yes, they come naturally, mostly while drawing: How many beds were in the room? Was there a window? Our conversations are not an interrogation; they are processes in which the children can remember things again.
 

What does a drawing session look like?

We begin with the past, with the child's original place of residence and home. Then we embark on a journey through time. The chronological sequence of events is often confusing, though. One camp, then the next, constantly changing locations, a constant coming and going. Many journalists lose track of things. Drawing brings a certain order to the experienced chaos. We always end the conversations with something positive, a glimpse into the future, a dream, a wish of the child. That's the general outline of the conversation, but ultimately it's a flow, the direction of which the children determine.
 

Who attends the meetings?

At least one parent and the child, the sound director, and the cameraman. The artist, the child, and I draw. I didn't originally want to do this because drawing isn't one of my strengths. But we discovered that it encourages the children: if I can do it, the child can too. The child often takes the lead, and the artists become extras.  
 

In your film you use these drawings and animations based on them. But that wasn't just a formal decision, was it?

Animation helps us protect children's identities. Together with Ukrainian animator Dana Danylova, we developed a two-layered animation style. This style clearly illustrates how identity can be manipulated and how memories change under the pressure of propaganda, disinformation, and violence. It not only demonstrates what we otherwise cannot show, but also brings the experience closer to reality. Viewers can better understand the impact of propaganda projected onto reality and the resulting confusion.
 

What therapeutic value do the drawings have?

Drawing has many advantages. First, while drawing, a child remembers things they didn't seem to recall before. The child can always go back to an earlier part of the drawing to add something. Second, drawings are honest. It's easy to lie with words, but that doesn't work so well with pictures. And finally, when everything is written down on paper, the child also has an overview of what they have experienced.
 

Do you stop when you feel the story is over?

For the children, their stories have a very clear ending. These are stories of abduction that conclude when the child returns home. Some stories, however, end in stages, depending on the child's state of mind. Our meetings are often very emotional. There have been moments when even the team members have asked for a break. 
 

What is the biggest challenge?

Some details are simply horrific. When you hear about sexual violence against children, or about children being placed in psychiatric hospitals as punishment for refusing to sing the Russian national anthem or complete Russian military training, it's challenging to keep a clear head. But it's not just the subject matter; the setting is extreme as well. In Kherson, we filmed in June 2023, shortly after Russian troops had blown up the Kakhovka Dam. The front line was only a few kilometers from our location.

"These children are subjected to massive brainwashing in the re-education camps."

How did you prepare for your work?

The entire team underwent training beforehand to prepare for emotionally challenging interviews. We also spoke with lawyers about how to talk to children so that their statements can be used as legal evidence. These children are witnesses to Russian war crimes: abduction, mental torture, sexual abuse, and denial of medical care in the camps. That is why Russia will not let them leave.
 

Did the meetings challenge your assumptions?

These children are subjected to massive brainwashing in the re-education camps. They often say it was a happy time, at least at the beginning. After all, they made friends there, they were by the sea. In some way, it was probably a happy time. The children have a right to say that. Accepting such a statement can be difficult because it challenges one's own assumptions.
 

The media often refers to it as a "stolen childhood".

These children have a childhood. Perhaps bullets are their new toys and destroyed houses their playgrounds, but it is still their childhood. It is disrespectful to give the impression that that time is not worthy of being called childhood. 
 

What would you say to those who doubt the credibility of the children's statements?

The stories are being confirmed. When 40 children – independently of one another – tell me about isolation rooms in the camps, it's not a coincidence. However, if they don't say something to avoid hurting their own or their friends' dignity, that's their right. We weren't in their situation; we can't judge them.
 

Who is part of your team?

These are several people and institutions. There's a Ukrainian NGO called "Girls" that provides psychological support to women, children, and their families. The stigma associated with psychological support is a Soviet legacy. It's time for that to change. We also work closely with the Ukrainian artist Alevtina Kakhidze and other local artists. Our production company, Pronto Film, is another example. The Harriman Institute at Columbia University and the Prague Civil Society Centre also support us. Furthermore, we work closely with Save Ukraine. Our funding comes from, among others terre des hommes Germany, which advocates for children's rights and safety.      
 

The film is only one part of your project. What is the other part?

The other part is an archive containing testimonies from repatriated children. This is raw material available to investigators, educationalists, and other researchers. This archive will be integrated into the Ukraine War Archive but has its own secure identity with an additional protocol for protecting information about children. If we haven't managed to prevent history from repeating itself, we should at least join forces—academic, artistic, investigative, and legal—to document the facts, bring those responsible to justice, and help the children process these traumatic events.
 

What else can we do for these children?

Rescued children receive a lot of attention. But that fades over time. It's important that we don't abandon them then. That's why we call them regularly, asking if they need anything. Some children send us diaries or drawings. You can tell they're seeking contact. Especially in Kherson, where they live in complete isolation. No schools are open there, the children can't go out, and they can't see their friends. Drawing, dancing, anything that involves the body helps the children process what they've experienced – even if it's only online.
 

Do the children also receive a lot of media attention?

Yes, that's why legal safeguards are important. We don't have carte blanche with children's data. Before using any data, we ensure that parents and children consent to the use of their names or images. Not all journalists do this. A recent article used the children's first and last names, ages, places of residence, and even photos. Furthermore, the children were vilified in the article for having to accept Russian passports. While it may be that the editorial team requests this sensitive data, in which case we must intervene and insist on ethical principles. This is the journalists' responsibility.
 

Are there any topics you wouldn't address in the film?

Yes, for example, sexual abuse. Even if I were to report on it completely anonymously or in the form of animation, other children would be able to identify who is involved. Even if parents and child agreed to it at one moment, they might change their minds in a few years. I consider it morally reprehensible to report on such stories. In such cases, we consult with organizations like terre des hommes and then make a decision as a team.   
 

How far along is the film?

More and more children are finding their way back. Their families are contacting us and asking for a meeting. Currently, 20 children are waiting for appointments. We are trying to secure funding for research trips to Ukraine and are looking for partners to co-produce the film. If everything goes according to plan, the film will be released in cinemas in 2025.
 

The violence the children are subjected to in these camps aims to change their identities. Are the children safe back in Ukraine?

As long as the war in Ukraine continues, no one is safe, but the children are home now. Finding their way back to themselves is also a process. These children have to learn many things anew or relearn them. One girl, for example, said she needs to learn to make her own decisions. That was forbidden in the camp. With external support, it's easier for the children to find themselves again and be themselves. Therefore: Don't forget these children, even when other news overshadows their stories.
 

19.02.2024