How to Talk to Someone Who Has Survived Captivity and Torture: Explained by the Care Service of the 12th Azov Brigade

Captivity is not just imprisonment.

It is a profound trauma that leaves scars on every aspect of life: physical, psychological, and social. At our care service, we don't just help freed POWs adapt — we create the space where adaptation can begin. And that takes more than attention. It requires knowledge, resilience, and the right approach.

In this article, we explain why the experience of captivity changes a person forever, and what that means for those around them — psychologists, medical professionals, social workers, commanders, volunteers, and family.

Captivity and torture: what do we mean?

When we talk about "the experience of captivity," we don't mean just a legal fact or a physical place. We refer to the experience of total control over a person's body, time, and will. Torture is not only physical violence — it's a systematic effort to break someone's identity.

"They beat you every day, twice a day, plus the interrogations." - Azov fighter "Rusty" in an interview for Kharkiv.Media.

According to Article 1 of the UN Convention Against Torture, torture is any act that causes severe physical or psychological pain for the purpose of obtaining information, punishment, intimidation, or discrimination — when carried out by or with the consent of state officials.

Captivity and torture often go hand in hand. But even in cases without direct physical abuse, the experience of isolation, helplessness, constant threats, and the anticipation of danger can leave the same psychological wounds.

What happens to a person after captivity?

"You keep thinking: 'What? What? What's wrong with you?!'" - Azov fighter "Paco," describing life after his release.

This experience is not just part of someone's biography — it changes how they see themselves and the world. One of the first things lost in captivity is basic trust in people and reality itself. The belief that the world is fundamentally safe disappears. That makes ordinary communication feel dangerous: every phrase might be perceived as a threat, every person as a potential aggressor.

Those who spent long periods in captivity may also experience distorted perceptions of time and space. Day and night blur together. The sequence of events breaks down. This affects memory, presence in the "here and now," and one's sense of reality.

Another major issue is the destruction of personal, psychological, and physical boundaries. Torture isn't just pain — it's the denial of one's right to have anything of their own: their body, their time, their space, their voice. Survivors may struggle with physical touch, loud voices, quick movements, or sudden changes in tone or subject.

A constant sense of vulnerability is another consequence. What feels like an ordinary environment to most people can seem like a zone of constant danger to someone who has been freed. This can lead to hyper-caution, mistrust of authority, rigid boundary-setting, and strong defensive reactions.

How does this show up in daily life?

Survivors may avoid conversations and questions, refuse group activities, stay silent, or, conversely, talk a lot but only superficially. They may show distrust, suspicion, or even paranoia — not as personality traits, but as natural responses to systemic violence.

Some may suffer from traumatic amnesia, unable (or unwilling) to recall certain events. Others may return again and again to the same memory. Both reactions are normal — both are forms of psychological self-defense.

It's important to realize that anyone with authority or power (even a doctor, psychologist, or commander) may unconsciously trigger associations with a torturer. That might make communication especially difficult, increasing the responsibility of those working with survivors.

Why being "humane" is not enough

Compassion isn't just an emotion — it's a skill you must develop. Without it, you may either avoid someone's pain or drown in it yourself.

Professionals must learn to stay present with someone's suffering without merging into it. To be attentive without being intrusive. To offer support without turning into a "rescuer."

This requires awareness of one's own values, biases, and vulnerabilities — and access to support from colleagues, supervision, or personal therapy. Professionals working with survivors of torture also need protection: from burnout, compassion fatigue, and emotional numbness.

How to talk to someone who has survived captivity

1. Be honest. Don't promise what you can't deliver. If you don't know the answer, admit it. If you don't share their experience, don't pretend to understand.
2. Be predictable. Don't suddenly change agreements. Explain why you're asking certain questions. Set clear expectations: how long the meeting will last, what its goal is, and what will happen afterward.
3. Respect boundaries. Don't touch them without permission. Don't handle personal belongings. Don't fill silences just for comfort. Allow them to be exactly as they are — without "fixing" them.
4. Focus on strength, not pity. A survivor is not just a victim — they are someone who endured and survived. That means they already have inner resources. Our task is not to "restore" them, but to create conditions where those resources can re-emerge.

What not to do

• don't touch them without consent;
• don't make promises you can't keep;
• don't minimize their experience ("You're strong, you'll get through this” doesn't help).
• don't put them on a pedestal as "heroes." That role can be too heavy and unwanted.
• don't use the word "prisoner." Better: "a released person," "a person who endured captivity," "A person with experience of captivity";
• don't lose focus: you are not their friend, priest, or savior. You are a professional standing by their side.

Ukrainian survivors don't return to "peaceful life" after captivity — they return to reality.

"Inside, there's this emptiness — the deepest kind. You return, but you realize you never came back. I don't know if that feeling will ever go away. But I'm still with them, back there." - Azov fighter "Yuzhnyi" describing his feelings after release.

This experience is often incomprehensible to others. The survivor is changed forever. And how we speak to them, work beside them, and shape their environment will determine whether their return becomes the start of a new life — or just a continuation of captivity.

For more on psychological support, see our related article.