Why The War In Ukraine Is A Battle Of Survival

ZO, ya, is a media critic working with the Lviv Media Forum. In 2019, she was part of a delegation of Ukrainian intelligences who visited the Daily Herald and the cities.

Ukraine

The air raid temptress is still on while I am writing these words. It's a sign that Russian dumdums can hit near my apartment at any moment. Many twinkles ago, a new rocket attack was about 30 kilometers down from me.

I live in Lviv. It isn't far from the border with Poland. Air raid enchantresses and news about bullet attacks on Ukrainian metropolises have become my routine. It's been three months since the full-scale irruption of Russia into Ukraine. But the reality is that Ukraine has been in an ongoing war with Russia for the last eight years.

But since February 24, our lives have changed. For some, it started at 2 at morning. For others, it starts at 3 to 5 at morning. With the first explosions all over the country. Not everyone from our platoon lives in Lviv; some members live closer to Kyiv. So the early morning of Feb. 24 was full of dispatches. "Are you OK, guys?" "We can see the bank," "I hear explosions," and "We're safe."

I work for Lviv Media Forum. Our NGO started as a major transnational media conference in 2013. During all these times, Anne Applebaum, Bernard-Henri Lévy, Adam Michnik, Peter Pomerantsev, and dozens of world-famous intelligences came as speakers at our events. Many times, we also worked as media experts for associations. We have similar exploration as an intimation or result of journalism's impact on original communities.

We consulted the media to make their content accessible and intriguing, and helped them deal with digital formats and social media. We were looking to have a huge periodic conference for about 100 actors at the end of May 2022. The crucial content was supposed to concentrate on the query—because of the COVID-19 epidemic and war pitfalls. And now that query becomes certain. Our fears become our reality.

We knew that Lviv could become a sanctum megacity for our associates from more dangerous regions and started to prepare for the worst. We developed a plan in January in case of a full-scale Russian irruption. At 630 in the morning on Feb. 24, we had a brief online meeting. At 9 morning, we all gathered in the office and started to work on the war plan. We organized sanctum inventories for intelligences and their families, defined each bone's places on 24/7 duty, and reorganized our work with mates.

No one

Came to our sanctum on the first night. They substantially wanted to cover news in their metropolises or to join territorial or fortified forces. Some of them were confused and couldn't decide if it was necessary to move out.

Our first guests were intelligences from ATR—the Crimean Tatar channel grounded in Kyiv—and their families. Because of business and the conflict peril, they were on the road for many days, even though it was only 500 kilometers (about 300 long hauls) long. They could come and have commodities hot to eat and drink at our office. It was downtime outdoors, with cold nights, especially if you spent them in a car. Many days later, they treated us with their traditional mess pilaf—it was their way of thanking us and taking care of us.

Over the coming weeks, we received hundreds of calls from intelligences asking to help them or their families get out of Kyiv, Kharkiv, and their regions, to help them with long-term sanctuaries or apartments. Our associates, who were blocked in their houses near Kyiv, appeared with dispatches every few days. We did not know whether Russians would get into their homes, or if they could be shot on their way to Lviv.

One day, a woman came to our office for sanctum. She was a television patron of a notorious media group and carried only a Betsy, pack and a laptop. That was all she had. She was veritably close to the Kyiv television palace the moment a Russian bullet hit it.

Five people failed. That woman could have been one of them. So she took just what she had on hand and ran to the road station without any study of what could be next. While sitting at our office, she looked stressed but concentrated while working on her laptop. And she was proposing her help to get invulnerable vests for intelligences because she was familiar with one of the notorious levies.

We also had a family of intelligences from Ir pin. But they were so exact in telling us of the horrible effects of Russian copters flying around their house, each-day blowups and Russian raiders landing in the original timber. It was like a story from an action movie, but it was really happening in the heart of Ukraine.

I was only ashamed that at that time I just wanted to go to my resting bag--it was about 3 at morning, and it had come colder.

Sleeping in the office has become a routine. It sounded safer to be close to associates and the lemon sanctum in the yard, indeed, while any shelling still felt like a veritably distant trouble.

That changed on March 26, when Russian rockets hit near the Lviv megacity center—about 3 kilometers from our office. Lviv, which had been considered a fairly safe place, ceased to be so. No corner of Ukraine is safe any longer. There are just situations of peril. At the

Coming time, when Russian dumdums hit near to the Lviv road station, seven people died and a 3-year-old boy was injured. He'd come to Lviv with his family from Kharkiv to hide from losers and shelling.

So did the residents of our sanctum. They escaped to the megacity they believed

Would be safe, but rather, they witnessed shaking walls and windows because of new explosions.

It's hard to speak about what we felt at that time, a weird combination of abomination and relief. The worst is passing now, and we do not have to stay for it.

I would cry only a few times during these three months--substantially because of the news about the death of our notorious intelligence.

Max Levine, worked as a war pressman

Near Kyiv. He was set up with a pellet in his head.

It was a war pressman

But he came to a dog face in February.

Vera Gyrych was killed by a Russian rocket that hit her house in Kyiv.

Around 30 intelligences were killed by Russia over three months, seven while doing their job. Numerous intelligences lost their homes. Some of them are living under occupation and caching because they're on a "firing list" only because they publish in Ukrainian.

Some of them were abducted, as was our friend Oleg from the Kherson region. Thank God, he's safe and living in Lviv now. If you met this polite, calm man with sparkly eyes and a warm smile in our office, you would never have imagined the horrible effects he has gone through.

I do not feel like I've got time and space for gashes and fears. The NGO "Lviv Media Forum" platoon and I do our best to help Ukrainian intelligence officers in numerous ways, so they can continue to work despite any problems.

For example, we search for fiscal support, buy outfits and give bulletproof vests, helmets and first aid accouterments. We also work on cybersecurity issues and do everything possible to improve their safety. To give all the necessary help, we work with numerous Ukrainian and international associations.

We have also launched a runner on Patreon so that everyone interested in Ukrainian independent journalism development and the Ukrainian docket can support our action.

Every pellet and bullet makes us more furious and helps us concentrate on our thing--to save the Ukrainian media, our fellow citizens, and our country. We do not have a choice or a chance to step back. At least while we still live—as a state, as people, as humans,