On August 21, 2025, reports emerged of a controversial summer camp in Russia’s Rostov region, near the Ukrainian border, where children as young as 8 were taught to throw hand grenades and carry rifles as part of an army-style training program. Supervised by soldiers who have fought in Russia’s ongoing war in Ukraine, the camp is designed to prepare the next generation for military service under President Vladimir Putin’s regime. The program, which included 83 children aged 8 to 17, featured activities such as a “route march” along the River Don, where participants ran and crawled through sand and shallow water while dressed in camouflage uniforms and handling weapons. While organizers, including instructors like Alexander Shopin and Vladimir Yanenko, framed the camp as a means to instill patriotism and discipline, critics, including the independent children’s rights organization Ne Norma, have condemned it as a form of indoctrination. This article explores the details of the camp, the experiences of its young participants, the broader context of Russia’s militarization efforts, and the ethical and societal implications of involving children in such programs.
The Rostov Summer Camp: A Militarized Training Ground
The summer camp, organized by the Don Cossack Cadet School of the Emperor Alexander III in the Rostov region, represents a bold and controversial initiative to introduce children to military skills at an early age. Located close to the Ukrainian border, the camp’s proximity to an active conflict zone adds a layer of significance to its activities, reflecting Russia’s ongoing efforts to bolster its military readiness amid the war in Ukraine, which began in February 2022. The program, open to both boys and girls, included 83 participants aged 8 to 17, who engaged in rigorous physical and tactical exercises under the supervision of experienced soldiers, some of whom, like instructor Alexander Shopin, were wounded in combat.
The camp’s activities were designed to simulate military training, with a focus on fostering discipline, teamwork, and patriotism. One of the most striking elements was the “route march” along the River Don, where children ran and crawled on their bellies across sand and through shallow water, often carrying what appeared to be real rifles or toy replicas. The march, described by participants as both grueling and exhilarating, tested their physical endurance and mental resilience. “I nearly died!” exclaimed one teenage girl, while her friend noted that they had completed the march “three times,” highlighting the intensity of the experience.
Eight-year-old Ivan Glushchenko, one of the youngest participants, expressed excitement about the camp, particularly the opportunity to throw hand grenades and fire dummy shots. “We threw hand grenades and fired dummy shots,” he said, his enthusiasm reflecting the appeal of the program for young children who may view the activities as adventurous or empowering. Another camper, David, spoke of the personal growth he experienced, stating, “It allowed me to find out how strong my willpower is.” These accounts suggest that the camp was designed to engage children emotionally and physically, framing military training as a test of character and resilience.
The involvement of real weapons, even if only for some participants, has raised significant concerns about safety and appropriateness. While the camp used dummy ammunition and toy replicas in some instances, the use of real rifles, even under strict supervision, underscores the program’s militarized nature. The presence of combat veterans as instructors, including Shopin, who brought his own daughter to the camp, further blurs the line between military training and civilian life, raising questions about the normalization of war-related activities for children.
Instructors and Their Motivations
The camp’s instructors, many of whom have direct experience in Russia’s war in Ukraine, play a central role in shaping its ethos and activities. Alexander Shopin, a soldier wounded in Ukraine and awaiting surgery, was among the instructors, bringing a personal connection to the program by including his middle daughter as a participant. “It’s not the first time I’ve taken part in this route march. I like it – to pass my experience to the children. You can see how a family is forged out of them,” Shopin said, emphasizing the sense of camaraderie and community fostered through the camp. He noted that his daughter, despite finding the activities challenging, enjoyed the teamwork aspect, stating, “To run as part of a team and not to let her friends down – this is what she likes.”
Another instructor, Vladimir Yanenko, framed the camp as a positive alternative to less constructive activities, stating, “Patriotic training is very important. They don’t want to hang out in back alleyways. It’s much more fun for them here.” Yanenko’s comments reflect a belief that military-style training provides structure and purpose for young people, diverting them from potential delinquency. This perspective aligns with the broader narrative promoted by Russian authorities, who argue that such programs instill discipline, patriotism, and a sense of national duty.
The involvement of combat veterans as instructors adds a layer of authenticity to the camp but also raises ethical concerns. These instructors, who have experienced the realities of war, are imparting skills and values associated with military service to impressionable children. The participation of Shopin’s daughter, for example, suggests a personal investment in the program, but it also highlights the potential for familial and societal pressure to normalize militarized activities for young people.
Russia’s Push for Youth Militarization
The Rostov summer camp is part of a broader trend in Russia under President Vladimir Putin to militarize youth and instill patriotic values from an early age. This initiative aligns with Putin’s efforts to strengthen national resilience and prepare citizens for potential military service, particularly in the context of the ongoing war in Ukraine. The conflict, now in its fourth year as of 2025, has placed significant demands on Russia’s military, prompting the government to cultivate a culture of readiness and loyalty among its population.
The camp’s activities, which include handling weapons and simulating combat scenarios, are designed to familiarize children with military skills and foster a sense of duty to the state. One older participant, Anton, articulated this sentiment, stating, “Why I am here? It’s because I want to tie my future with military service. To serve my country and be loyal to my cause until the very end.” Anton’s words reflect the success of the camp’s patriotic messaging, which encourages young people to view military service as a noble and aspirational career path.
Russian authorities have defended such programs as a means to build national pride and resilience. The government’s narrative emphasizes that military training instills discipline, teamwork, and a commitment to protecting the homeland, qualities deemed essential in a geopolitically turbulent world. However, critics argue that these programs amount to indoctrination, manipulating young minds to align with state objectives and normalizing violence at an early age.
The independent children’s rights organization Ne Norma has been vocal in its criticism, describing the camp as a form of propaganda that exploits children’s impressionability. Ne Norma argues that teaching children as young as 8 to handle weapons and engage in military drills risks desensitizing them to violence and prioritizing state loyalty over individual development. The organization also points to the psychological impact of such programs, particularly in a region close to an active conflict zone, where children may already be exposed to war-related stress.
Ethical and Societal Implications
The Rostov summer camp raises profound ethical questions about the appropriateness of involving children in military-style training. The use of real weapons, even under supervision, poses safety risks and blurs the line between play and preparation for combat. The psychological impact of exposing children to war-related activities, particularly in a region affected by the Ukraine conflict, is a significant concern. Children like Ivan Glushchenko, who expressed excitement about throwing hand grenades, may not fully comprehend the implications of these activities, raising questions about informed consent and the role of parental and societal influence.
The camp’s proximity to the Ukrainian border adds a layer of complexity, as it situates children in a context where war is not an abstract concept but a tangible reality. The involvement of instructors who have fought in Ukraine, such as Shopin, may glorify military service and obscure the harsh realities of conflict, potentially shaping children’s perceptions of war in ways that prioritize patriotism over critical reflection. This is particularly concerning given Russia’s restrictions on free speech and media, which limit access to alternative perspectives on the Ukraine conflict.
From a societal perspective, the camp reflects Russia’s broader strategy to cultivate a militarized culture in response to geopolitical challenges. The war in Ukraine has strained Russia’s military resources, with estimates suggesting over 500,000 casualties (killed or wounded) as of mid-2025, according to independent analysts. Programs like the Rostov camp may be seen as a long-term investment in rebuilding military capacity, but they risk alienating segments of the population and drawing international criticism for exploiting children.
The debate over youth militarization is not unique to Russia. Countries like Israel and the United States have programs that introduce young people to military skills, such as Israel’s Gadna youth program or the U.S. Junior Reserve Officers’ Training Corps (JROTC). However, these programs typically target older teenagers and emphasize leadership and civic engagement rather than combat training for children as young as 8. Russia’s approach, with its focus on early militarization, stands out as particularly aggressive, raising concerns about the long-term impact on children’s development and societal values.
Global Context: Militarization and Youth Programs
The Rostov camp must be understood within the global context of youth engagement and militarization. Many countries offer summer camps and youth programs aimed at fostering discipline and patriotism, but few involve children as young as 8 in activities that simulate combat. For example, China’s military-style summer camps for teenagers focus on physical fitness and teamwork, often without weapons, while Scout programs in Western countries emphasize outdoor skills and community service.
In Nigeria, youth programs like the National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) include paramilitary training, but this is targeted at university graduates and focuses on civic duty rather than combat readiness. The Rostov camp’s emphasis on weapons and military drills sets it apart, reflecting Russia’s unique geopolitical priorities and the ongoing influence of the Ukraine conflict.
The global rise of militarized youth programs has sparked debates about the balance between preparing young people for national defense and preserving their right to a peaceful childhood. International organizations like UNICEF have emphasized the importance of protecting children from exposure to violence, arguing that such programs can violate the principles of the Convention on the Rights of the Child. Russia’s camp, with its focus on young children, may draw scrutiny from human rights groups, particularly given its proximity to an active war zone.
Perspectives from Participants and Organizers
The experiences of the camp’s participants offer insight into its appeal and impact. For young children like Ivan Glushchenko, the camp is an exciting adventure, offering a sense of achievement and camaraderie. The physical challenges, such as the route march, provide opportunities to test personal limits, as articulated by David, who valued the chance to discover his willpower. These positive experiences suggest that the camp is effective in engaging children and fostering a sense of community, even if its methods are controversial.
Older participants, like Anton, express a clear alignment with the camp’s patriotic goals, viewing military service as a noble career path. This sentiment reflects the success of the program’s messaging, which taps into Russia’s cultural emphasis on national pride and duty. For instructors like Shopin and Yanenko, the camp is a way to pass on their experiences and values, creating a sense of legacy and connection with the next generation.
However, the enthusiasm of participants must be weighed against the potential for coercion or manipulation. Children, particularly those as young as 8, may not have the capacity to critically evaluate the implications of military training or the broader political context. The involvement of parents, as seen with Shopin’s daughter, raises questions about whether children are freely choosing to participate or are influenced by familial expectations.
Criticisms and Concerns
Critics like Ne Norma argue that the camp represents a form of indoctrination, exploiting children’s impressionability to serve state interests. The organization points to the psychological risks of exposing young children to military activities, including the normalization of violence and the potential for trauma, particularly in a region affected by war. The use of real weapons, even under supervision, is a particular point of contention, as it introduces unnecessary risks and sends a message that combat skills are appropriate for children.
The camp’s proximity to the Ukraine conflict zone adds further complexity. Children in the Rostov region may already be exposed to war-related stress, whether through media, family discussions, or the presence of military personnel. Introducing them to combat training at a young age could exacerbate these pressures, potentially leading to long-term psychological impacts. Ne Norma and other critics call for alternative programs that emphasize civic engagement, leadership, and critical thinking without militarized elements.
Opportunities for Dialogue and Reform
The controversy surrounding the Rostov camp presents an opportunity for dialogue about the role of youth programs in Russia and beyond. While the government defends the camp as a means to foster patriotism and discipline, engaging with critics could lead to reforms that balance these goals with ethical considerations. For example, programs could focus on non-combat skills, such as first aid, teamwork, and outdoor survival, which promote discipline without exposing children to weapons or war-related themes.
International pressure from human rights organizations could also encourage Russia to adopt more child-centered approaches to youth engagement. Collaboration with global bodies like UNICEF could provide guidance on designing programs that prioritize children’s well-being while fostering civic pride. In Nigeria, for instance, youth programs like the NYSC have evolved to include community development and entrepreneurship training, offering a model for balancing national service with personal growth.
Conclusion
The summer camp in Russia’s Rostov region, where children as young as 8 were taught to throw hand grenades and carry rifles, has sparked intense debate about youth militarization and state propaganda. Held on August 21, 2025, the camp, supervised by Ukraine war veterans, reflects President Vladimir Putin’s efforts to prepare young people for military service and instill patriotism. While participants like Ivan Glushchenko and David expressed enthusiasm for the experience, critics like Ne Norma condemn the program as indoctrination, raising concerns about safety, ethics, and psychological impact.
The camp’s activities, including a grueling route march and weapons training, highlight Russia’s aggressive approach to youth engagement, driven by the ongoing war in Ukraine. Instructors like Alexander Shopin and Vladimir Yanenko frame the program as a positive outlet for children, fostering discipline and community. However, the use of real weapons and the involvement of young children raise serious questions about appropriateness and long-term consequences.
As Russia continues to navigate its geopolitical challenges, the Rostov camp underscores the tension between national security and children’s rights. The global context, with countries like Australia and Nigeria implementing youth programs with different priorities, offers alternative models for engaging young people. By fostering dialogue and reform, Russia could develop programs that inspire patriotism and discipline without compromising the well-being of its youth, ensuring a future that balances national pride with ethical responsibility.
