The presence of Colombian mercenaries in the war in Ukraine is not new. From just a few months after the conflict began, in February 2022, dozens of young people from the South American country — mostly former members of the military — voluntarily enlisted in a war thousands of miles away whose motivations and reasons, in many cases, they did not even know.
As the months passed and Ukraine’s defensive positions were consolidated, bolstered by weaponry and funding from the United States and the European Union, it became clear that the conflict — far from what Russian President Vladimir Putin had announced — was going to last.
From that moment on, what had been an initial adventure by a handful of Colombians turned into a real draw: Hundreds of them joined a war in Europe, mainly integrating the ranks of the Ukrainian army.
Much less well-known, but also real, is the case of Colombians who enlisted in the Russian army. In both cases, information about the fate of these people is scarce and confusing. Data from Colombia Migration — which acknowledges that these figures are part of a sub-study because there are no real official statistics — states that as of February of this year, 150 Colombians were part of Ukrainian army units as mercenaries.
Information about those in the Russian ranks is, if anything, even less clear. Other figures from nongovernmental organizations put the number at at least 250 Colombians in Ukraine and a minimum of 15 in Russia.
The phenomenon of mercenarism is not uncommon in various conflicts around the world. Until the outbreak of the Russian war in Ukraine, the conflict in Sudan, in Africa, was the one that filled the most newspaper pages. The limited job opportunities for people with military training who, after active service in Colombia, are forced into informal work that barely guarantees their survival — combined with tempting financial offers — draw hundreds of former soldiers who, under the guise of being hired to participate in the conflict, embark on a path that — very often — has no return.
Recently, to curb this phenomenon, the Colombian Congress approved a law that prosecutes and punishes mercenarism, meaning many of these people risk having to face the law if they manage to survive the war and return to their country — something that, for many of their families, adds new obstacles to their longed-for return.
Colombian mercenaries recruited with false promises to fight in Russia’s war in Ukraine
This outlet managed to speak with the wife of one of these mercenaries. Maria — a fictitious name used at this person’s request to remain anonymous — denounces a darker side of this conflict in Europe: Recruitment that, she claims, is carried out through deception by Russian military forces.
“They offer supposed monthly payments of up to 12 million pesos (approximately US$3,150) and specific extra payments, with offers to do logistics work without directly taking part in combat, but then it turns out to be a lie and from day one they place them in a frontline trench,” explains Maria, who also says these Russian payments are made in rubles — the Russian currency — into an account in that country.
“If the person dies, the account is frozen, and it is impossible for the family in Colombia to withdraw that money,” she laments. Maria has not known her husband’s fate for weeks. “I don’t know if he’s alive or not. For a while, I managed to have some contact, especially when he was in areas where he could get internet access, and we maintained some calls that way, but now, nothing,” she says, with a hint of fear that her loved one may have been imprisoned or even killed in combat.
This testimony shows that conditions for these Colombian mercenaries on the Russian side are significantly worse than those faced by the ones who choose to join the Ukrainian side. This is confirmed by Patricia Mendigaño, who leads the Colombian NGO The voice of those who are no longer here (“La voz de los que ya no estan”, in Spanish).
Colombia One held a phone interview with her. She also recently had the opportunity to visit Ukraine and confirms to us that neither the Colombian Consulate in the area nor the Ministry of Foreign Affairs provides information — indeed, the ministry acknowledges it does not have any — about the fate of these Colombians enlisted in a European war.
Mercenaries or volunteers in Ukraine?
At the very start of the interview, Mendigaño points out that these compatriots who went to fight in Ukraine are not mercenaries. “They sign contracts with the Ministry of Defense of the country they will work for, so we understand that they do not fit the strict definition of ‘mercenary,’” she argues.
Regarding the possible legal repercussions that survivors might face in Colombia following the approval of the law that bans and prosecutes mercenarism, Mendigaño says they have no knowledge of its scope “given that its approval is very recent.”
Nevertheless, consistent with her position rejecting that label, the NGO head says these people should not be legally pursued in Colombia. Be that as it may, so far, there is no record that anyone has been detained or formally charged under the new Colombian law.
It has been known for months — and Maria, our anonymous witness, confirms it — that many of these Colombians want to return to the country. However, they report that soldiers keep them “imprisoned in some kind of cages” and that any attempt at desertion is severely punished.
Many also report nonpayment — what Maria calls “lies” — and say their level of desperation grows because “when they arrive, their passports are withheld, making it impossible to leave the country.”
‘Seduction’ operations through social media
Family members report that most of the “mercenaries” were recruited through “seduction” operations on social media. “They use TikTok a lot, but also Instagram and even YouTube,” says Maria, who confirms that her husband was recruited this way, with images that offered a sense of purpose and — she also acknowledges — a generous financial reward “that is impossible to find in Colombia.”
Beyond the money — the main motivation for these people who decided to head to war — the adventurous spirit of some of these young men ends up “motivating them to make this completely wrong decision,” she laments.
We managed to speak with Lucy, another wife of a volunteer — this one on the Ukrainian side — who confirms that her husband was “seduced” by TikTok videos. “My husband was unemployed after completing his service as a professional soldier in Colombia. We had a one-year-old daughter, and with my job we couldn’t cover even the minimum expenses,” she explains.
It was, once again, for this reason that Lucy’s husband left everything and went to Ukraine. “After a few weeks, his hope of getting back a job he had already done in Colombia turned into disappointment: They wouldn’t allow him to call home, they withheld his pay, and after some time they even stopped paying the agreed amount.”
This situation revives the recurring debate about the limited options for rebuilding a dignified civilian life for many rank-and-file soldiers who decide to leave professional service in Colombia.
Even though the government has implemented modest improvements in soldiers’ pay, years of financial mistreatment and, above all, difficulties in integrating former service members into civilian life continue to surface time and again.
The difficulties in repatriating the bodies of Colombians killed in combat
From The voice of those who are no longer here, it is also noted that there are “enormous difficulties” for families in Colombia to achieve the repatriation of the bodies of these individuals when they die in combat.
“From the Consulate and the Ministry, they provide us with nothing more than a WhatsApp number and an email address, and that only after fighting hard to obtain them,” they lament. “From the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, very few options are offered, and when the death of a Colombian in Ukraine is confirmed, DNA proof is requested to confirm the identity of the deceased, but only if the body has been located,” they add.
As for the body repatriation process, Mendigaño points out that after a complex legal file, “only the ashes ever arrive in Colombia, never the intact bodies,” so that “one has to take a leap of faith and believe that those remains belong to the family member.”
Regarding the economic aspect, the NGO reports that “although it is not a pattern that always repeats itself,” it is common that upon the death of one of these individuals, “their bank account is frozen,” making it impossible for the time being for their family to access the accumulated capital.
In this complicated context, the organization reveals that there are “dozens of Colombians trying to leave Ukraine and return to the country, but the difficulties are very great.”
With only a few months left before four years have passed since Russia’s war in Ukraine began, the decisions of hundreds of Colombians driven by necessity — and perhaps, in some cases, by the search for adventure — are paid for by those who made that mistaken decision, but also by their families, who continue to wait for the return of their son, brother, or husband and to forget forever an absurd war on the other side of the world.