“People tend to create idols for themselves, have inflated expectations of them, and place certain hopes on them. When Oleg and I returned from a Russian prison in 2019, it seemed to me that Ukrainians wanted to see us as some kind of opinion leaders. But I am just an ordinary person, like everyone else. It just so happened that I ended up in prison and that my case gained such publicity. That's all. I was a public activist, but I didn’t want to be any kind of leader. After my release, I wanted to inform people about what modern Russia is like, to talk about political prisoners who were still behind bars. At the same time, I wanted to pause my public activity or change its forms, take a break, and resolve some personal issues. But then the full-scale invasion happened, and there was no time for a pause,” says Sasha.
We tracked down Alexander Kolchenko to ask him about his current life and service.
Sasha, Crimea was the first Ukrainian region to experience Russian aggression. Did you consider joining the army back in 2014?
A friend of mine from Crimea suggested I join the ATO in 2014, but at that time, I was already wanted by Russia, and it would have been risky to attempt to leave the peninsula. I felt it was important to engage in civil resistance in occupied Crimea. Apparently, I was not ready for the front — the fear of being wounded or killed played a role.
Was there no fear in 2022?
There was. But when the Russians reached the outskirts of Kyiv, there was no room for fear anymore. It still exists. However, circumstances changed since 2014: by 2022, I realized that the Russians had already driven me from my home, from Crimea, and I didn’t want to wait for it to happen a second time. I was officially mobilized on May 6.
What do you think about those who avoid mobilization — even willing to swim across the Tisza or enter into a marriage with a disabled person?
The Tisza, sham marriages. I think it's somewhat insignificant and humiliating for a person. I believe that evasion exists because people might simply be scared. But if you shift your defense against the enemy onto someone else, it implies that you consider yourself better than others. And no one is better than anyone else.
Where are you fighting now?
In the artillery division of the 67th brigade, on the Kursk direction. Although saying “fighting” in relation to me is quite a stretch. In the combat unit, I have a non-combat position — I mainly work with paperwork. I rarely wear a bulletproof vest and helmet. The war requires all kinds of work, including paperwork — dealing with various documents. I was assigned to do this — I must fulfill it.
Has your perception of war changed since 2022?
I don’t know if my opinion will be relevant, as I haven’t spent a single day on the front line. The only thing I can say is that I want victory as soon as possible. The war is already starting to feel a bit routine. It seems like I’m tired. It’s hard to bear the death and injury of guys, the loss of equipment that ensures the fulfillment of combat tasks. And then you look at the comrades on the front line who constantly find the strength to fight, and you ask yourself: “Are you out of your mind?”
What does victory for you mean? The cessation of hostilities on our territory, the withdrawal of Russian troops from our lands, our return to the borders of 1991, the disintegration of Russia as an empire? Or something else?
I believe that returning to the borders of 1991 does not guarantee us safety. Nor does the cessation of hostilities. Because even if the war ends, the Russian threat will still remain — not just for us, but for other neighbors of Russia as well. The best-case scenario would be the disintegration of Russia. But it’s too early to talk about victory — at this stage of the war, the Russians are advancing.
In your youth, you were interested in pacifism — and now you are at the front. Have your views changed?
No. I have never called myself a pacifist. I am against militarism as a state ideology aimed at expansion. However, I recognize the right of Ukrainians to self-defense and to victory over the aggressor. Therefore, it is logical that I am in the Armed Forces of Ukraine. We are currently facing very serious challenges; we are fighting for our existence against absolute evil, which is embodied in Russian imperial politics. So, I had no issues regarding mobilization. Yes, as a person, I don’t want to participate in war. But the fact is, it’s necessary. I believe that, aside from military means, there is no other way for a Ukrainian victory to be achieved.
It’s surprising to hear from you, who has espoused anarchist views for years, about “having to” as a main argument. Does “having to” matter for an anarchist?
It matters in terms of assessing risks and threats. Taking responsibility for what happens, realizing that no one is obliged to win your freedom back, that no one is obliged to defend your rights and freedoms — only you are. It’s important for me to participate in this, because it would be unfair for foreigners to come from abroad to protect us, while I, having arms and legs, remain on the sidelines.
Anarchists advocate for reducing the role of the state in society, for expanding citizen participation in governance through self-management. How do you, an anarchism supporter, perceive the strengthening role of the state in society during wartime? Will this not lead to authoritarianism in power?
There is a risk of developing authoritarianism, but comparing it to the risk of military defeat and genocide, the choice is not that difficult. The pressing issue right now is Russian aggression. Once we deal with that, we can tackle other issues, including the potential threat of authoritarianism, if it becomes relevant. In the past, such threats were most acute for Ukrainians in 2013-2014 when Yanukovych's government enacted dictatorial laws. We managed to cope with that threat. So we have certain experience.
Do you currently have any personal problems unrelated to the war?
No, not really. For me, everything good and bad has long been connected to the war. In particular, my biggest personal problem is the separation from my loved ones, from my wife.
When did you get married? And who is your wife?
Nastya. She is a lawyer by education, 30 years old, and works in human rights. We met when I was in the hospital after being released from Russian prison — she came to see me for legal matters. I fell in love, and we got married before my mobilization, on April 9, 2022. We didn’t expect the war to end because even then, and now, it’s unclear when it will be over. And there were thoughts that if I were wounded, Nastya would be able to visit me freely in the hospital, which would make other formal aspects easier.
We didn’t have a wedding. Nastya and I just registered our marriage; we didn’t invite anyone. There was no white dress or veil. It’s not about the white dress, but about the feelings. I would like to have a real wedding after the victory, to invite friends, but for now, that celebration, like the birth of a child, is postponed. Because a child is a great responsibility. And to place that solely on my wife while I’m in the army doesn’t seem quite right to me.
Do you still keep in touch with Oleg Sentsov?
We communicate periodically — we talk about the war, service, politics, and some personal matters. Every few months, we exchange messages. If circumstances allow, we meet up, for example, during leave. I consider our relationship to be friendship because we are very open with each other and understand each other well.
What keeps a family together when the husband has been at war for almost three years?
Care, trust, a sense of closeness, and daily communication over the phone. We discuss how our days went, what problems we have. I can’t talk about military matters, but I can share about our everyday life with the guys. I can joke. Such conversations are better than nothing, but I miss my wife’s physical presence, our shared leisure time, walks with our dogs.
Would you like to demobilize?
It’s a complicated question because my personal family life is currently on pause. I have only seen my wife and mother during leave. But on the other hand, there’s