These tears of joy that remind me why this war still matters

Introduction: a ninety-seven-second video

A moment I cannot forget

I watched, like thousands of others, the video published by RFE/RL on June 27, 2026, simply titled "Tears of Joy." Ninety-seven seconds of reunions between released Ukrainian servicemen and their families, filmed without artifice, without dramatic music layered on top, just faces, arms reaching out, blue and yellow flags trembling on still-thin shoulders.

This is not the first time I have seen this kind of footage since the war began. But every time, something in me refuses to grow used to it, refuses to treat these reunions as just another statistic among the 76 prisoner exchanges that have taken place since 2022, according to figures relayed by the Xinhua news agency.

The third act of a still-fragile pact

This scene is part of the third phase of the "1000 for 1000" agreement, negotiated following the three-day ceasefire brokered by the United States in May. On June 26, 160 Ukrainian servicemen regained their freedom, all held since 2022, according to President Volodymyr Zelensky, quoted by RBC-Ukraine.

I caught myself counting mentally: four years. Four years of a cell, of uncertainty, of radio silence for families who did not even know whether their son was still alive. And then, one day, that phone call, that list, that name finally confirmed.

Mariupol's defenders, a sacrificed generation

A hundred and fifteen faces from Azovstal

Among the 160 released were 115 defenders of Mariupol, survivors of the siege of the Azovstal plant, according to RBC-Ukraine. These men held out for weeks in the rubble of a besieged steel plant before being captured in 2022, at the very start of the full-scale invasion.

The youngest of those freed was 26 years old, the oldest 66. That age range strikes me in particular: it is a reminder that this war has spared no generation, tearing both young men at the start of their careers and fathers nearing retirement away from civilian life.

Captivity documented as systemic torture

Watching these images of joy, I also think of what Dmytro Lubinets, Ukraine's Human Rights Commissioner, revealed before the UN last March: more than 95% of Ukrainian prisoners suffered systematic torture in Russian captivity, according to UN data relayed by The Kyiv Independent.

These smiles captured by the cameras do not tell the whole story. Behind every filmed embrace likely lies a long road of physical and psychological rebuilding, a road Ukrainian society will have to walk alongside them well beyond the media moment of release.

Abu Dhabi's quiet mediation

A role that has become almost routine

As with previous exchanges, humanitarian mediation for this operation was handled by the United Arab Emirates, according to Euronews. There is something both reassuring and troubling about this diplomatic routine: reassuring, because it still works despite the absence of direct political dialogue between Kyiv and Moscow; troubling, because it is a reminder of just how incapable the two capitals are of directly negotiating even the most human of gestures.

Russia's defense ministry, for its part, confirmed the return of 160 Russian servicemen, transferred to Belarus to receive care before their final repatriation, according to the Xinhua news agency.

A reciprocity that erases nothing

This reciprocity in the exchange must never be confused with a moral equivalence between the two sides. Russian soldiers are returning to an aggressor that launched this war through a deliberate political choice; Ukrainian soldiers are returning to a country that has been defending itself for more than four years against an invasion it never wanted.

I want to repeat this, even at the risk of sounding repetitive: the logistical symmetry of these exchanges must never mask the fundamental moral asymmetry of this conflict.

What the numbers do not say

Seven thousand names still hanging in the balance

Despite this new wave of releases, Russia still holds roughly 7,000 Ukrainians captive, including more than 4,000 servicemen, according to figures cited by President Zelensky and relayed by The Kyiv Independent. That figure, cold in its statistical detachment, actually represents seven thousand individual stories, seven thousand families hanging on the next exchange list.

And behind these servicemen, there are also nearly 1,900 confirmed Ukrainian civilians in Russian captivity, with estimates climbing as high as 16,000 according to Lubinets, quoted by RBC-Ukraine. These civilians never carried a weapon.

An incomplete joy, but a real one

I do not want to spoil the legitimate joy of this June 26 by drowning it solely in statistics about those still held captive. Every return matters. Every reunited family deserves to be celebrated fully, without any accounting afterthought that would tarnish this moment of pure happiness.

But I also believe we owe this moment of truth to the seven thousand others: their story is not over, and the fight for their return continues, patiently led by people like Lubinets who work, case after case, without ever making the front page of major international newspapers.

The silence of the eight hundred days before

What waiting does to families

Before every release, there are months, sometimes years, of unbearable waiting for the families left in Ukraine. No reliable news, contradictory rumors, lists that circulate without official confirmation. I think of the mothers who check every newly published exchange list, line by line, holding their breath until they find — or do not find — the name they are looking for.

This waiting, invisible in the joyful images of reunions, is nonetheless the core of what prisoners' relatives actually experience. The Coordination Headquarters for the Treatment of Prisoners of War reports that these families live in a state of permanent vigilance that, over time, exhausts them as much as grief itself.

A bureaucracy of hope

What I call the bureaucracy of hope is those dozens of forms, identity checks, and cross-referencing of lists between Kyiv and Moscow that precede every release. Thankless, technical work, but absolutely essential so that these filmed reunions can one day take place.

Without this painstaking work carried out by officials unknown to the general public, none of the images of tears of joy broadcast by RFE/RL would exist. I believe they deserve as much tribute as the soldiers themselves.

The hidden price of captivity

Marked bodies, fractured minds

Images of reunions show smiles, but rarely the emaciated bodies, the scars, the tremors that captivity leaves behind. Human rights organizations have documented for years the devastating physical and psychological consequences of prolonged detention in Russian captivity.

I often wonder how long it will take these 115 defenders of Mariupol to regain any semblance of a normal life, if that is even possible after what they have been through. Ukrainian society will have to stand by them for years, long after the cameras have turned to other stories.

A rebuilding that has barely begun

The return to civilian life, or even military life, for these freed men represents an enormous challenge for Ukrainian health services, already overwhelmed by the needs created by more than four years of full-scale war. This challenge only begins the moment the cameras switch off and media attention moves elsewhere.

I believe our duty, as observers of this war, is to keep caring about these men long after the media moment of their release, so as not to reduce their story to a single image of fleeting joy.

A generation writing its own memory

Social media as a living memorial

Since the war began, Ukrainian social media has become a space where every family publicly documents the wait, and sometimes the return, of a captured relative. These posts, often accompanied by photographs from before the war, create a collective memory running parallel to the official statements from Kyiv and Moscow.

This practice, almost universal among families of Ukrainian prisoners, turns every individual release into an event shared by an entire digital community, amplifying both the joy of reunions and the ongoing pain of those still waiting.

The media's role in building the national narrative

Ukrainian media, including RBC-Ukraine and The Kyiv Independent, devote sustained attention to every new wave of exchanges, helping keep the prisoner issue at the heart of national public debate despite the understandable fatigue of a population facing more than four years of continuous war.

This methodical coverage, exchange after exchange, is itself an act of resistance: it refuses to let international media fatigue erase the human urgency of this issue, even as world attention turns to other crises.

What this war has taught me about hope

A hope that refuses to die

After more than four years following this war, I could easily give in to cynicism with every new exchange announcement, every new number of released prisoners. But these images from RFE/RL remind me that hope, however fragile, continues to survive even in the darkest circumstances.

This hope is not naive. It fully coexists with clear-eyed awareness of the scale of the crimes committed, of the 7,000 Ukrainians still held captive, of the years of rebuilding awaiting every family touched by this war. But it stubbornly refuses to surrender all the ground to despair.

A lesson for the entire West

I believe this Ukrainian capacity to celebrate every small human victory, without ever losing sight of the scale of the fight still ahead, is a valuable lesson for the entire West. Faced with authoritarian regimes ready to weaponize human suffering, this collective resilience deserves to be supported and amplified through every available diplomatic means.

Perhaps that, at its core, is the real meaning of these ninety-seven seconds of video: a reminder that human dignity can survive even four years of war, provided we collectively refuse to let it go out.

Conclusion: why these images keep moving me

A war also measured in embraces

We often measure this war in square kilometers retaken, missiles intercepted, military casualty figures. But I believe some of this conflict's most important truths are also measured in filmed embraces, in flags held tight against a chest, in tears that never lie about their origin.

These ninety-seven seconds of video from RFE/RL will change nothing about the geopolitical trajectory of this war. But they remind me, every time I risk growing numb to the repetitive news from the front, why this war still deserves all our attention and all our solidarity.

A simple wish going forward

My wish, as I close this piece, is simple: that the next exchange list be even longer, that other families soon experience this moment of tears of joy, and that the seven thousand names still hanging in the balance are never forgotten amid the noise of grand diplomatic maneuvering.

By Maxime Marquette, columnist

Columnist's transparency note

Who I am and my acknowledged biases

I sign my work as Maxime Marquette, columnist-analyst for mad-m.ca. I openly claim a pro-Ukrainian editorial line, and I consider this war an unjustified aggression by Russia against a people legitimately defending itself.

This piece expresses a personal viewpoint built from verified and sourced facts. I did not personally witness this prisoner exchange, and I rely solely on the reporting and official statements cited in this article to build my reflection.

Sources

Primary sources

Tears Of Joy As Freed Ukrainians Return Home In Latest Prisoner Swap — RFE/RL, June 27, 2026

Ukraine-Russia prisoner exchange on June 26 brings home 160 — RBC-Ukraine, June 26, 2026

Secondary sources

Russia and Ukraine swap 160 soldiers each in latest prisoner exchange — Euronews, June 26, 2026

At least 337 Ukrainian POWs 'brutally' executed by Russia — The Kyiv Independent, March 3, 2026

Ukraine's ombudsman reveals who is hardest to bring back from Russian captivity — RBC-Ukraine, June 26, 2026

Russia, Ukraine swap 160 prisoners of war each — Xinhua, June 26, 2026