Why fighters from post-Soviet world flock to Ukraine’s banner

On Kriposnyi Lane in central Kyiv, captured Russian military vehicles stand in front of the National Museum of Military History. Just up the street, a bronze plaque affixed to a wall pays tribute to Imam Shamil, a 19th-century leader of the Caucasian resistance to the Russian Empire, and inspiration for subsequent Chechen resistance to Moscow’s rule.

The proximity of the two signs of defiance hints at a sense of common cause for fighters from across the post-Soviet world, thousands of whom have come to Ukraine’s aid since the Russian invasion.

“We need to stop Russian aggression,” says Tor, a stocky English-speaking Chechen fighter resting in Kyiv between rotations to the front line in Bakhmut. “If we don’t do it today, it will never stop. And the stronger Russia gets, the smaller our chances of freedom.”

People from around the world have joined the fight against Russia in Ukraine, but for those from Chechnya and former Soviet republics Belarus and Georgia, the stakes feel especially high. They say their countries will never enjoy freedom or democracy unless Russia is defeated in Ukraine. And so Ukraine’s war is their war.

The exact number of battalions and fighters of such origin has not been officially divulged. Ukraine’s Ministry of Defense and the Security Service both declined to answer questions on the subject. But testimony from commanders and soldiers suggests thousands have flocked to Ukraine driven by a sense of shared responsibility.

Among them is Cmdr. Mamuka “Ushangi” Mamulashvili, who heads the Georgian Legion of Ukraine. He has some 1,800 men under his command, 65% of them battle-hardened Georgians.

“The guys are very experienced,” he says with pride, speaking by telephone from an undisclosed front-line position in southeastern Ukraine. “They were prepared by NATO instructors. They can use NATO equipment. They can use post-Soviet equipment, and that makes them effective.”

“Former Soviet Union countries have been captives of Russia for 70 years,” Commander Mamulashvili says. “They are fighting against the same evil idea of communism.”

History of conflict

For post-Soviet peoples, the decision to fight in Ukraine is steeped in history – a history of conflict with Moscow since Russia forcibly absorbed Belarus, Georgia, and Chechnya into its empire in the 19th century.

More recently, Georgia had barely declared its independence after the collapse of the Soviet Union when Russia began bolstering would-be separatist regions of the new country. Moscow invaded Georgia in 2008, capturing Abkhazia and South Ossetia in an operation that foreshadowed the 2022 invasion of Ukraine.

Ukraine opened its doors to Georgian refugees in 2008, prompting a sense of solidarity and gratitude toward this country. Ukrainian volunteers also fought in Georgia against Russia in 2008.

“Ukraine did a great job to support Georgians, so naturally we are here to help,” Commander Mamulashvili says.

Fight for “a free Belarus”

Belarusian fighter Aleh Auchynnikau wears two knotted bracelets to indicate his allegiances. One is blue and yellow – the colors of Ukraine’s flag. The other is red and white – the flag of Belarus before it became a Soviet republic in 1919. That Belarusian flag – embraced by opponents of President Aleksander Lukashenko, a staunch Russian ally who has held power since 1994 – is banned in Belarus.

“There cannot be a free Ukraine without a free Belarus and there cannot be a free Belarus without a free Ukraine,” says Mr. Auchynnikau, a member of the Kastuś Kalinoŭski Regiment (named for a Polish-Belarusian 19th-century revolutionary), which was formed in March 2022 and is made up entirely of Belarusian opposition volunteers.

Mr. Auchynnikau fought alongside the Ukrainian army against Russian-backed separatists in the eastern region of Donbas nine years ago. Later he joined a group of Belarusian fighters who regularly trained together in the forests outside Kyiv, driven by the sense that a larger conflict with Moscow was inevitable.

The Belarusian regiment is less experienced in warfare than its Georgian counterpart, but “we have huge motivation,” says Mr. Auchynnikau, sitting in a classroom used for tactical training in a Kyiv building provided by the Ukrainian government to Belarusian fighters. “We know why we are here. We were not conscripted. It is a call from the heart.

“The only reason Lukashenko is in power is because Putin supports him,” he goes on. “If we defeat Putin here, Lukashenko will not have his support and will be discarded. We want to go back to a free Belarus. Helping Ukraine is our direct road home.”

Since Moscow’s invasion, Mr. Auchynnikau has fought in the battles for Kyiv, Kherson, and most recently Bakhmut. It was there that he celebrated his recent birthday – its cold muddy moments captured in selfies – as he gulped down morsels of pizza and cake between incoming mortar rounds.

The Belarusian government’s close ties with Moscow complicate Belarusian volunteers’ efforts to join the fight in Ukraine. On the one hand, President Lukashenko’s security forces seek to track down potential combatants; on the other, Ukrainian security forces are suspicious of would-be fighters.

Ukrainian officials and Belarusian “cyber-partisans” vet potential recruits who apply through a chatbot on Telegram, an encrypted communications channel. “The screening is very serious and thorough,” says Mr. Auchynnikau. “They found three people who were agents of the Belarusian KGB.”

Chechen against Chechen

The Chechens fighting with Ukrainian forces are in a particularly unusual position: Their ancestors were subdued and absorbed into the Russian empire in 1859, after a 30-year war; had to be re-subdued by the Bolsheviks after the Russian revolution; and fought two wars against Moscow in the 1990s.

“Cooperation between Chechens and Ukrainians goes back to the 19th century,” says Dmytro Makhtarov, a researcher at Ukraine’s National Museum of Military History. “The destinies of these nations have one thing in common. They were occupied and invaded by the Russian Empire.”

Yet now those continuing the battle against Russia alongside Ukrainian troops find themselves up against other Chechen troops, loyal to Chechen strongman and close Putin ally Ramzan Kadyrov.

“Both sides hate each other and see each other as traitors who betrayed the idea of the nation,” says Mr. Makhtarov.

For young Chechens, he says, the war in Ukraine offers an opportunity to gain the kind of military experience their elders earned in the two Chechen wars against Moscow, or more recently in Iraq and Syria, where some Chechens fought with radical Islamist groups.

Some of the Middle East conflicts’ veterans are known to have made their way to Ukraine, although Mr. Makhtarov insists “Chechens who come to Ukraine get screened by our security services.”

In a Kyiv apartment used by Chechen fighters to store weapons and rest between front-line missions, Tor and his French-speaking comrade Maga, who both belong to the Dzhokhar Dudayev Chechen Peacekeeping Battalion, are not shy of voicing their ambitious goals. 

Donning a balaclava before posing for a photo, Maga says he would prefer to have the chance to decide his country’s future at the polls rather than fight in a foreign country. “We don’t want to kill anyone,” he says. “But we want to be free. I’m sure that when Ukraine wins this war, Russia will collapse.”

“We fight here today so we don’t have to fight tomorrow in my country,” adds Tor.

Oleksandr Naselenko supported reporting for this story.