Putin and the Missing Children: The Big Western Lie
Gillian Schutte The West claims Putin stole Ukrainian children while they remain silent on Ukraine’s own conduct. Russian-speaking families forced into basements before buildings are detonated are caught on video yet dismissed without examination. Thousands of children vanished through Ukraine’s undocumented evacuation routes with no official records or follow-up. These realities are denied because they contradict the narrative required to sustain Western geopolitical strategy. The dominant Western line on the war in Ukraine has been repeated so consistently that it is now treated as fact, not claim: Russia is stealing Ukrainian children. The ICC’s arrest warrant for Vladimir Putin is presented as the final proof that this is a crime committed with intent, organisation and state-level authority . The ICC alleges that Putin “is responsible for the war crime of unlawful deportation of population (children), and unlawful transfer of population (children) from occupied areas of Ukraine to the Russian Federation,” citing Articles 8(2)(a)(vii) and 8(2)(b)(viii) of the Rome Statute. The charge states there are “reasonable grounds” to believe he bears individual criminal responsibility “for committing the acts directly, jointly with others, through others,” and through failure to control subordinates. This is a serious accusation — but it is being circulated without allowing the public to hear the surrounding facts. The depth of the charges is framed as proof of guilt rather than what they are: allegations — shaped through the same geopolitical filter that has defined every stage of this war. To understand what is missing, one must begin with the point that Western media and governments refuse to address: Russia keeps a paper trail. Russia is bureaucratic by history, culture and system. It documented under Tsars, under the Soviet state, and under the Federation. When Russia relocates people — refugees, the elderly, prisoners, or children — documentation follows the action. It may be slow and heavy but administration is the default setting of the state. When children were moved out of front-line towns, Russia recorded: Whether one approves or disapproves of the relocation, a documented process exists. Regional authorities have presented files, case summaries, and return events publicly. The system exists because bureaucracy is Russia’s official mode — and the global community knows this. intake interviews names and birth dates medical details school placements guardianship forms family identification records of return Yet the same Western media ecosystem that demands proof dismisses the paperwork because Russia produced it. Evidence becomes labelled propaganda; documentation is treated as deception; the existence of records becomes suspicious rather than informative. Meanwhile Ukraine’s paperwork is not demanded at all, despite the scale of unregulated child movement during the first year of war. Millions fled the country through fractured corridors. Thousands of minors crossed borders: unaccompanied with neighbours or volunteers with unrelated adults or into informal placement networks Local records offices collapsed. Emergency evacuations happened without standard administrative tracking. Databases crashed. Files burned. NGO handovers were undocumented. European placements varied from regulated to ad hoc. There is no Western demand to audit Ukraine’s recordkeeping. No ongoing tribunal. No headline campaign asking: Where are the children who left Ukraine and were never tracked again?Who was responsible for monitoring them?Which government holds the files?Which NGOs lost them?Where are the names, the paperwork, the follow-up checks? The narrative only asks: Where are the children Russia relocated?It never asks: Where are the children who left Ukraine? This selective outrage exposes the core issue: this is not about child protection; it is about narrative control. Western press coverage has created a one-dimensional war: Russia — the perpetratorUkraine — the victimNATO — the rescuer Any fact that disrupts this alignment is excluded. Consider the basement footage. There is war media that shows Ukrainian units forcing Russian speaking civilians into basements in tactical contexts that have resulted in those buildings being shelled or detonated by them. This is seen on broadcasts in the Donbas region, outside NATO’s information pipeline. The interpretation of those scenes is never allowed to be publicly questioned inside Western media space. The cause is assigned immediately; the explanation is decided before analysis. And it is never in Russia’s favour. And no Western media ever points out that on the Russian side, strict military protocols exist regarding civilian engagement. Whether the West accepts this or not, the enforcement record shows internal disciplinary action, removals, and prosecutions of soldiers who act outside of these protocols. Ukraine, however, has moved into worsening conditions of corruption and human rights abuse that reach Zelensky’s office and inner circle. Arms trafficking, extortion, forced conscription, black-market weapons pipelines and unexplained assassinations have been documented by sources that the same media chooses to bury or minimise. Yet the public is still told to believe that Ukraine represents democratic purity while Russia represents criminal impulsivity. The contradiction is clear: Ukraine’s documented misconduct does not alter the Western script because the script serves strategy, not accuracy. The ICC warrant must also be understood within this context. The Court did not issue warrants for NATO leaders who authorised Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya or the bombing of Yugoslavia without UN approval. Civilian deaths caused by Western forces never resulted in Western heads of state being named, charged or pursued. When the ICC investigated the US, Washington threatened economic retaliation, revoked visas, and openly intimidated ICC staff. The message was blatant: the ICC has jurisdiction where Western power approves, and nowhere else. That does not mean the charges against Putin should not be examined. Indeedxit must be because it will prove how ludicrous the charges are. But it is imperative that his examination must take place in a framework that is consistent, neutral and universal — not selectively applied to suit geopolitical aims. South Africa’s position adds another layer. Cyril Ramaphosa’s recent blind signing of Western-aligned agreements shows how easily post-colonial states are drawn into the orbit of Empire through diplomatic pressure, donor leverage, debt mechanisms and foreign policy incentives. Instead of acting as an independent voice within BRICS, Ramaphosa has signalled compliance with US and EU strategic interests without public mandate
Genocide Has No Soundtrack: Disruption, Resistance, and the Struggle Against Normalisation in South Africa
By: Nigel Branken What kind of protest is needed in a time of genocide? We are living in a moment of not only horrific violence, but also deep ideological struggle. The genocide in Gaza is not an isolated atrocity—it is a flashpoint in a much broader global crisis. We are watching the intersections of empire, white supremacy, capitalist extraction, and neocolonial control collide in increasingly visible ways. Here in South Africa, the echoes of apartheid are growing louder. The remnants of Afrikaner nationalism are once again stirring, framing themselves as victims of so-called “white genocide,” echoing lies about land expropriation without compensation, and fueling racist backlash. These narratives, though debunked repeatedly, are being amplified internationally. Alarmingly, the United States—which continues to provide Israel with diplomatic, economic, and military cover—is now adopting these talking points as part of its justification for exerting pressure on South Africa. In essence, U.S. threats against South Africa are not only about BRICS or economic autonomy—they are about punishing South Africa for daring to name the reality of apartheid in Israel, for standing before the ICJ, and for aligning ourselves with global justice rather than empire. But this struggle is not only global—it is deeply personal. Back home, we are witnessing another kind of violence: the silent violence of abandonment. Recently, USAID cancelled its global contribution to antiretrovirals. Many of my LGBTQI+ refugee friends—already survivors of religiously fuelled homophobia in Uganda, Cameroon, Kenya, Zimbabwe and Zambia—suddenly found themselves without access to life-saving medication. These are people who fled for their lives because of their gender identity or sexual orientation, seeking safety in South Africa, only to be met with systemic neglect. USAID’s withdrawal is no accident. It is empire shifting shape. Once described as a tool of “soft power,” it is now simply abandoning those most in need. And while its programmes may have always been entwined with neocon agendas, it is the poor, the sick, and the most vulnerable who pay the price when it disappears. Add to this the rise of xenophobic scapegoating within South Africa—the blaming of migrants for unemployment, housing shortages, and crime. Add the rise of right-wing political movements that mirror the fascist trends we see globally: from Trump’s deportation machine and assault on due process, to Europe’s externalised borders, to Israel’s supremacist occupation. We are watching empire double down, trying to preserve itself through lies, through violence, through economic control. Capitalism, like a caterpillar seeking metamorphosis, is trying to reshape itself—into greener, softer, more palatable forms—but its core remains extractive, supremacist, and dehumanising. This moment demands we wake up. It demands we refuse silence. It demands that we fight back—not just for Palestine, but for ourselves. For months, many of us have been standing on street corners with placards, shouting into the void. We’ve marched. We’ve cried. We’ve pleaded with the world. And still, the bombs fall on Gaza. The settlements expand. Children are buried beneath rubble. Entire families wiped out. And we ask ourselves: Is this enough? Is standing silently or marching politely doing anything to stop the slaughter? Israel has defied the International Court of Justice’s rulings. It has escalated its ethnic cleansing of Gaza and entrenched its violent occupation in the West Bank. Settlements continue to expand even as the world declares them illegal. The Israeli propaganda machine keeps churning, and the global normalisation of apartheid through culture, commerce and diplomacy continues unchecked. We are watching a genocide in real time. And as South Africans, with our own history of apartheid, we cannot look away. This moment calls for a different kind of resistance—one that moves beyond symbolic gestures. Some of us are beginning to experiment with it. A more direct one. A more disruptive one. Last week, we entered a Pick n Pay supermarket—a national chain that continues to stock Israeli goods. We didn’t ask for permission. We didn’t whisper. We made a public service announcement, naming the Israeli products being sold in the store and calling on shoppers to stand against genocide with their money. We urged them to make ethical choices and not to look away from their trolleys. Watch the action here: Pick n Pay disruption video: https://youtube.com/shorts/hg52FjPo5-U. Days later, we stood outside the Linder Auditorium at Wits University. Israeli pianist Yaron Kohlberg was scheduled to perform, hosted by the Johannesburg Musical Society. Over 100 of us gathered at the campus gate. A smaller group stood directly outside the auditorium doors. Another 10 were inside the theatre itself. We chanted. We called out complicity. We disrupted the performance. We cried. This wasn’t just about a concert. It was about the ongoing project of Israeli normalisation through cultural soft power—a project that seeks to distract from mass graves with piano notes. Let me be clear: Kohlberg is no apolitical artist. He served in the Israeli Defence Force. He has performed for the Knesset and the President of Israel. And though he once collaborated with a Palestinian pianist in a duo called Amal (“hope”), he came to Wits alone, without that context, and performed during a genocide. To sit through that concert without protest would be to accept the erasure of Palestinian life. So we did not. Watch that action here: Linder protest video: https://youtu.be/VI__2JR-3Pg. These actions are not stunts. They are not theatre. They are sacred refusals to let the killing continue unchallenged. This is the moment we are in. And the moment demands more. It demands that we refuse to be silent in supermarkets, in concert halls, in universities, on social media. It demands that we interrupt comfort, challenge neutrality, and confront complicity. That is why more of us are stepping into the streets, not just with signs, but with strategy. That is why we disrupted African Rainbow Minerals (ARM), a company complicit in profiting from global systems of extraction and oppression and, through its share in Glencore and Richards Bay Coal Terminal, complicit in the sale of South African coal to Israel, fuelling the genocide and illegal occupation. I was not present at the ARM protest, but I