Mercenary Myth Dies in Russian Interrogation

Jenkins' capture reveals the danger of blind heroism in foreign wars.

Caption: Oscar Jenkins, face of stupidity

Circulating throughout Australia’s media is footage of 33-year-old Australian mercenary Oscar Jenkins being interrogated by Russian soldiers. The former Melbourne Grammar School biology teacher, who once imagined himself a heroic soldier, now finds his schoolboy fantasy turned into a nightmare reality.

Jenkins is currently a prisoner of war in Russia.

One news outlet even went as far as to describe the interrogation in its headline as: “Horror footage emerges of Australian teacher interrogated by Russians.” The headline certainly does what headlines are meant to do—grab attention—but as is often the case with mainstream reporting, it bears little resemblance to the reality of what was actually shown.

Like many, I was intrigued and sceptical—anticipating something genuinely disturbing. But that moment never came. The so-called “horror” amounted to three or four light slaps to the face. It’s fair to say that, considering Jenkins was captured as a foreign mercenary, the Russians treated him relatively well.

My scepticism was justified. If the footage revealed anything, it was how utterly out of his depth Jenkins was. His feeble responses, his visible fear—it painted a picture not of bravery, but of delusion. He wasn’t a soldier. He wasn’t fighting for freedom. He was a man chasing a fantasy, caught up in a war he barely understood, driven by a dangerous and shallow reading of geopolitics.

Jenkins’ decision to join Ukraine’s International Legion—despite having no formal military training—has now landed him a 13-year sentence in a Russian penal colony. Russia has labelled him a mercenary, a designation that denies him protections under international law. While the Australian government has expressed outrage over his treatment, we must instead examine the circumstances of his involvement—and the implications of it.

By voluntarily joining a foreign conflict and ignoring official Australian government warnings, Jenkins displayed not only naïveté, but an astonishing lack of judgment. His actions have put his own life at risk and complicated diplomatic relations for Australia.

Portraying Jenkins as a hero conveniently ignores the ethical ambiguities of his involvement. While many might believe he was acting to oppose aggression, Jenkins failed to understand that the war in Ukraine is far more complex than a simple good-versus-evil narrative. For decades, it is the US and NATO that have pursued aggressive expansion eastward, fuelling this conflict. To suggest Russia alone is the aggressor is a dishonest reading of history.

Taking up arms in such a conflict without full understanding or official sanction is reckless. Even if he believed he was acting morally, Jenkins’ actions lacked the prudence and foresight required of anyone engaging in serious international warfare.

The media’s framing of Jenkins’ capture—especially in using the word “horror”—is irresponsible. It grossly exaggerates the actual footage and undermines credible reporting. When journalists sensationalise events, they distort public perception and diminish meaningful discourse. The media has a duty to report with accuracy, not emotion.

Jenkins’ decision to travel to Ukraine to fight in a war that increasingly serves as a tool for US and NATO strategic interests has not only resulted in his capture, but it has also created a diplomatic headache for Australia. High-level discussions, including those between Prime Minister Albanese and Zelenskyy, are reportedly underway. But the reality is this: Russia views Jenkins as a mercenary, and by the rules of war, he is not entitled to any special protections.

Australia shouldn’t be attempting to secure Jenkins’ release.

Jenkins must serve his sentence. Actions have consequences, and his were not only foolish, but dangerous. His story should be a warning, not a rallying cry.

Jenkins’ case underscores the importance of heeding government advisories, especially in matters of war. Personal convictions, however noble they may seem, must be weighed against historical realities and legal frameworks. The war in Ukraine is not a Marvel movie. It’s not a game. And it’s certainly not the place for amateurs chasing purpose.

Ultimately, Jenkins’ story is one of hubris, poor judgment, and self-inflicted ruin. It should serve as a reminder to anyone tempted by similar illusions to fight in an illegal US NATO proxy war: understand history, understand context, and your own limitations.