“I don’t want anyone else to die,” Natalya says, crying. “Our little trooper is the youngest of all those who lie here.” “Here” is the military cemetary in Lviv. Her son was 18.
What follows are a series of quotes from an article in Meduza based on interviews with people across Ukraine. Meduza is a Latvian based English and Russian language news blog with an unofficial motto “make the Kremlin sad”.
Despite that. what is striking about this selection is how the views expressed differ from the limited range of Ukrainian voices we get to hear in the official media here; which is why I have highlighted them in concentrated form in this blog.
I want to stress that for each of these views in the full article – which is worth reading – there is another arguing for carrying on fighting until the 1991 borders are restored, “otherwise what have we been fighting for?”
In these arguments, the deaths of the future are sanctified in advance and made imperative by the deaths of the past. None of the people who put this view, however, argue that it is possible. It is posed more as as a moral imperative, a revulsion against sacrifice in a lost cause; thereby carrying within it the prospect of a backlash not only against any peace terms that Ukraine accepts, but also those who have conducted an ultimately futile war. So the question “WHAT have we been fighting for?” is inextricably entwined with,“WHO have we been fighting for?” especially as the Kyiv oligarchy’s US puppet masters measure up the country’s natural resources as compensation for defeat.
“This is a separatist city; there are many zhduny here,” he ( a young soldier in the Ukrainian army) says of Sloviansk (a city in Northern Donetsk, close to the front line now) using a Ukrainian term for people who are “waiting for Russia.” “Even the local grandmas look at me like they want me to drop dead.”
According to Oleksandr, Sloviansk residents with pro-Russian views no longer speak openly “because they understand it will cause them grief.” But Lera says that in some local Telegram groups, they refer to the Russians as “ours,” and local taxi drivers and shopkeepers often use the word “ruble” instead of “hryvnia.”
This confirms that pro-Russian views in eastern Ukraine are a reality, not a “Putin talking point”. In other parts of the country, sentiments like these are expressed.
“If I were [in the politicians’ place], I’d have come to an agreement already, to be honest. I just want the war to end.”
“Yes, we’d like the 1991 borders to be ours, but not [if we have to fight] to the last Ukrainian. If so, let everything remain as it is. Not at this price.”
Borys says he wishes “Zelensky would stop this.” He thinks that Ukraine’s occupied territories should receive neutral status or become part of Russia, so long as the majority of Ukrainians are left alive; joining NATO isn’t worth such losses, he says.
“I think we should start negotiations [with Russia] and then decide the fate of [the Donetsk and Luhansk] regions through an honest poll. So people can decide for themselves which country they want to be in,” chimes in his friend Ihor, 18.
“Are we going to sacrifice a million [people] for Crimea? And then what will we get?” Valetov continues. “I’m going to say something [that sounds] bad, but the people in Donetsk and Luhansk are no longer ours — with the help of television and Telegram, you can flush everything [Ukrainian] out of people’s minds in 11 years.”
She worries that politicians have gradually turned the war “into a business,” and she doesn’t understand how the money sent to help Ukraine is spent. “I have a lot of friends at the front whose [relatives] equipped them,” she says. “[It’s like,] You want normal body armor and a good helmet? Get it yourself.”
“I don’t understand why our boys are at the front, but guys from Donetsk come here in their big flashy cars and live it up,” she cries (Maryanivka is about 500 kilometers, or 310 miles, from the front line in Donbas). “Why don’t they go there and defend their territory?!”
Ukrainians are tired of the war for many reasons, including because many of them donate money to support the army only to hear about constant shortages of weapons and equipment. She’d like the war to end with Ukraine getting back its occupied territories, but “if it were going to happen, it would have happened long ago,”
“Do you know what a Pyrrhic victory is? I don’t want such a victory,” he says. “But if our territories are given to Russia, this would be a capitulation, which isn’t right either. Therefore, just freeze the conflict. But on one condition: our country introduces the death penalty for embezzlement today. I’m no supporter of the death penalty, but I think it’s time.”
“They’re stealing our boys!” cries Yevhenia (name changed). Her draft-age son “was taken right from the bus stop” to basic training, even though he should have received an exemption as his grandmother’s caregiver. Yevhenia says her son failed to submit his documents to the military enlistment office in time. “If I’d known that would happen I never would’ve let him go out!” she says, practically in tears.
“It feels like they just want to destroy us,” he explains. “Not just the Russians, but our command, as well. We’ve been sitting at the front endlessly. It’s as if they’re saying, ‘There’s no one to replace you, [so] you have to die here.’”
According to Stanislav, morale is low and soldiers are just trying to survive. “Anyone who talks about peremoha should grab a Kalashnikov and go for it,” he says, using the Ukrainian word for “victory.” “On the Zaporizhzhia front, the Russians are making concrete and fortifying their positions with it. How are we going to break through? I’m horrified at the thought of going on the attack there. We’ll just drown in blood.”
Asked what to do about the so-called Donetsk and Luhansk “people’s republics,” Stanislav argues that the easiest solution is to “amputate” the Donbas region. Mentioning the fact that Ukrainians live there makes him roll his eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he says with a sigh.
Urban ramblings 