Draft officers brutalizing recruits in Ukraine (VIDEOS)
The increasingly chaotic mobilization drive, overseen by the so-called Territorial Centers of Recruitment and Social Support (TCR), has been marred by widespread violence and abuse, with recruitment officials seen chasing recruits in the streets, brawling with them and onlookers alike, and even threatening civilians with military-grade weaponry.
One of the videos, reportedly shot in the southwestern city of Nikolayev, purports to show draft officers trying to pack a potential recruit into an unmarked vehicle.
The officers are seen violently beating their victim and repeatedly smashing him with the car's door.
Another video, reportedly taken in the Black Sea port city of Odessa, shows a group of officers trying to pack a draftee into their bus. The man appears to be heavily beaten, with his clothes torn and stained with dirt.
A fresh video from the city of Dnepr (also known as Dnepropetrovsk) shows a mass brawl between a group of teenagers and several men believed to be draft officers. The plainclothes TCR officials were confronted by onlookers as they attempted to pack a man into their unmarked vehicle, with the altercation promptly devolving into a fisticuffs. The civilians ultimately managed to overpower the officers and free the detainee.
Ukrainian mobilization, launched early in the conflict with Russia, has grown increasingly chaotic and violent over the years. The effort has received the moniker 'busification', which describes the process of violently packing recruits into the unmarked minibuses commonly used by TCR officials. Kiev has long denied widespread violence and abuse related to the draft process, routinely dismissing it as 'Russian propaganda.'
This April, however, the country's military admitted that its recruitment process has been marred by certain shortcomings. 'Busification is a shameful phenomenon, and we're doing our best to avoid it,' deputy head of the Ukrainian Defense Ministry, Lt. Gen. Ivan Gavrilyuk said.
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From the timeless insights of Aristotle's Rhetoric and Poetics - as well as the blood-stained wisdom of Attic tragedy itself - we can distill the following key drivers of pity (P): the suffering is undeserved (U), comes as a surprise (S), is grave (G), is inflicted on those who, to some extent, resemble us (R), and unfolds close enough to cast a shadow on our own fate (C). Together, these factors form a strikingly apt model for dissecting how political actors weaponize pity for the purpose of political persuasion. This, then, is what I call the 'Political Pity Equation' (PPE) – or, in its more specific form, the 'Public Pity Equation' – a robust heuristic for understanding how pity is manufactured and how it can be strategically shaped in the information war: P = U + S + G + R + C. This capstone formula for the politics of selective pity is as potent as it is pliable, because each driver can be dialed up or down to sculpt public sympathy with unerring finesse. Information warriors across different arenas routinely manipulate these factors to calibrate pity, crafting emotionally compelling narratives and eliciting strong emotional responses that serve shifting political agendas. This versatility makes the 'Political Pity Equation' an exceptionally powerful instrument of influence and control. To illustrate strategic pity calibration: Whenever the leaders of the collective West judged that Israel had reached a critical milestone in what German Chancellor Friedrich Merz, albeit with reference to Iran, termed its 'dirty work,' they deliberately amplified pity for the long-neglected, suffering Palestinian people. Critics may argue that such emotional pivots serve not to correct injustice, but to manage perceptions: a tactical show with a controlled release of empathy by both leaders and audiences designed to contain mounting backlash, without altering the underlying staunchly pro-Israeli policy. Perhaps such maneuvers are designed especially to ease tensions among sizeable Muslim populations at home, a large and politically influential voter base. The gesture may also seek to project – however belatedly and transparently hollow – an image of the West as the moral arbiter, towering above its own double standards: a last-ditch strategic gambit aimed at preserving and bolstering its acutely imperiled soft power on the world stage. In an age where pity has predominantly morphed into a calculated outcome in the brutal arena of global information warfare - crafted by political high-technology and choreographed with algorithmic precision - grasping the logic of the PPE is nothing short of essential. Let us, therefore, unpack the five key triggers of pity, one by one. Misfortune judged undeserved – especially perceived injustice – is often the very spark that ignites pity, striking a deep emotional chord. An innocent man behind bars stirs immediate sorrow for the fate he endures. Pity surged worldwide in 2020 when protests erupted over a searing symbol of suffering caused by a police force accused of brutal abuse of power: George Floyd, a black man, pinned beneath a Minneapolis officer's knee, gasping the haunting words, 'I can't breathe.' The harrowing footage of this incident spread like wildfire, fueling outrage and solidarity around the world. As a striking example of perception eclipsing truth, intense public pity overshadowed the fact that Floyd – a repeat violent offender – was lawfully restrained as a suspect, spoke for over nine minutes despite claiming he could not draw air, and was pronounced dead not on the street corner memorialized as a murder scene or in the ambulance, but later at the hospital. Nevertheless, his death galvanized mass outcry, demands to abolish the police, and riots causing over $1 billion in damage. In contrast to the passionate reaction provoked by seemingly undeserved ordeals, a toppled tyrant awakens no pity – only the cold satisfaction of justice served. When Rumanian president Nicolae Ceaușescu was executed by firing squad in 1989, the crowd erupted – not in grief, but in relief. An unexpected, sudden reversal – one of the key ingredients making a plot truly tragic and emotionally gripping – evokes pity, too. A classic example of such peripeteia reinforced by anagnorisis (recognition) in Greek drama is King Oedipus' sudden harrowing discovery that he had unknowingly killed his father and married his mother. This unexpected realization triggered a cascade of horror: self-blinding, disgrace, and exile. If, in contrast to such gut-wrenching surprise, pain arises as a slow, natural consequence of the victim's own choices – lung disease from years of smoking or financial ruin from reckless gambling – pity is minimal or entirely withheld. 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So does the haunting image of the terrified Vietnamese girl Phan Thị Kim Phúc fleeing after a napalm strike by a U.S. ally in 1972 – her humanized suffering ignited global outrage. By contrast, the quiet toll of civilian deaths from Israeli and American strikes on Iran in 2025 barely registers. We are wired to care more about those who resemble us. Whenever victims feels socially or morally relatable – sharing our values, struggles, or life trajectory – their pain hits closer to home, because deep down, we recognize ourselves in them. The suffering becomes not just theirs, but potentially ours. Consider Malala Yousafzai, a Pakistani girl shot in 2012 ostensibly for what millions of children worldwide embrace as a routine: going to school. That haunting familiarity made her story evoke instant, global pity. But this emotion is the product of a delicate alchemy: Too little similarity, and the connection falters; too much, and the emotional distance required for compassion collapses into defensiveness or other inner states. Pity thrives on proximity – we are most moved when suffering is vivid, recent, or nearby. Predictably, pity dies at the extremes: if the suffering is too close, this emotion turns into fear; too far, and it fades into indifference. Only at moderate proximity does pity truly take hold. The grim photo of Alan Kurdi, the two-year-old Syrian refugee boy who drowned in 2015 seeking safety, perfectly captured this fragile middle ground: close enough in innocence to spark global pity for the living refugees he came to represent, yet distant enough in place, context, and risk to spare viewers the paralyzing fear of personal danger. The examples above offer a glimpse of how particular catch-all propaganda objects wield power across nearly all contexts. Functioning as emotional master keys, their potency lies, most notably, in their ability to activate multiple enablers of pity at once, making them remarkably resilient and versatile tools of influence and control. Their impact intensifies when the information strategy forges a tight link between the object and the specific context of suffering. Tragically, few tools of emotional manipulation rival the suffering child, an image that concentrates a broad spectrum of pity triggers into a single, devastating symbol. Close behind: the suffering woman. Crucially, the child serves as the propaganda world's nuclear option, which simply cannot be ignored: universally potent, overwhelming in its emotional impact, nearly impossible to counter, and devastatingly effective across contexts. The child's innocence and vulnerability render its pain fundamentally unjust. Where one expects laughter and light, there is instead darkness, and that dissonance comes as a jolt. A child's suffering does not remain abstract; it reflects the observers' own children, or the ones they cherish, pulling the pain startlingly close – feeling intimate, immediate, almost within reach. This child-centered tactic of provoking pity is instantly recognizable from the classic appeals of aid organizations: haunting shots of emaciated boys and girls, eyes wide with hunger, meticulously crafted to pierce even the most calloused conscience – and pry open the wallet So much for theory; let us turn to its application. Tellingly, the five enablers outlined above prove invaluable for dissecting the selective pity evoked in three theaters of information war: Ukraine, Gaza, and Russia. [Part 1 of a trilogy on the politics of selective pity. To be continued.]
