By Natalia Petrova with Alexander Kubrak
Summary: The International Memorial—the organization I am happy to work for—received a Nobel Peace Prize in October 2022 for its work on strengthening peace at the international level. But on a human, personal, civilian level, you can also try to mend the space destroyed by war.
For six months, a small group of alumni of the Robert Bosch Stiftung fellowship programs shared dialogues with a blogger, Alexander Kubrak, who was born and raised in Ukraine. He left Ukraine for Russia after his marriage and returned just before the outbreak of the war, where he subsequently organized the Hand of Help Foundation (Ruka Dopomogi — https://www.handofhelp.com.ua) and keeps a public diary called “Eyewitness from Zaporozhye” (https://t.me/WitnessInUkrain).
We invited this blogger to participate in the peace dialogues and for almost six months, we have been meeting to try to see the situation from three dimensions: Ukrainian, German, and Russian perspectives. Moreover, we have sought to maintain just the smoldering fire of human relations, so that it does not go out. This article explores this experience of dialogue in the midst of war and hopes to give further voice to Alexander.
How to start—and put into words life over the past year?
In January and February of 2022, we were sitting in front of the TV, reading the news, and I felt that we were under some kind of anesthesia. I remember thinking that there was something terrible approaching that we were not even trying to stop. We can’t stop it, and we don’t even believe it will start. But at 5 a.m. on February 24th, we read the news and there it was: “Kiev has just been bombed.”
There was a Soviet song, “On June 22nd, at 4 o’clock sharp, Kiev was bombed, we were announced that the war had begun,” about Hitler’s attack on the Soviet Union. And that’s exactly how—by repeating what we knew from history textbooks and hundreds of films, books, and songs—Russia started the war. In these first days of the invasion, in addition to the horror of what was happening, it was a horror from the conscious, mocking copying of the narrative of the great Patriotic War. Only this time, the Russians played the role of the Germans.
The world is collapsing, someone’s future, someone’s hopes, someone’s lives are turning into dust and ashes. And many people at this moment have one question: how can we stop it? What can I do?
Despite the horrors of this terrible year, there were so many examples of courage, selflessness, and generosity—so many people around the world, who did not remain indifferent to the tragedy of Ukraine.
On a human, personal, civilian level, you can mend the space destroyed by the war.
I know people who have steadfastness—in their straight back, fearlessness, and loyalty to principles. And I believe that such people will be able to achieve peace. Just the guns will be silenced at some point.
In 2022, a small group of Bosch Alumni Network members shared dialogues with a Ukrainian blogger, Alexander Kubrak. We invited Alexander to meet and try to see the situation from three dimensions: Ukrainian, German and Russian. And, moreover, we simply sought to support the smoldering fire of human relations, so that it does not go out.
Alexander was born and raised in Ukraine, then for many years lived outside the country in Russia. Before the outbreak of the war, he returned to Ukraine in the winter of 2021-2022 and has since stayed here. He helped organize the Hand of Help Foundation (Ruka Dopomogi) and keeps a public diary called “Eyewitness from Zaporozhye.”
As the war continues to progress, it has become more and more difficult to ensure that such a dialogue can involve more people from different sides, since the current catastrophe deprives life of semitones. However, I’d like to share with you our recent talk with Alexander and our collective explorations of peace.
Exploring Peace Together
NP (Natalia Petrova)
It seems to me that even in the situation of catastrophic war [and] spots of peace, islands of life still remain. And these peace islands, maybe not directly, will lead the world to the end of the nightmare.
For me, your diary is such an island of peace in the middle of a war. You do not shut yourself off from what is happening, you are in the thick of frontline events, but the breath of life, every manifestation of it is reflected in your diary.
You keep your diary in Russian: what is your audience?
AK (Alexander Kubrak)
Before answering the question of why I decided to keep a war diary and what audience it is designed for, I must say a little about my personal circumstances. Despite the fact that I was born, grew up, studied at school—at the university in Zaporozhye—in Ukraine, then I lived for many years in Moscow, in Russia, I have many friends there. Now I am living in Ukraine again.
As one of my friends said, Ukraine has stood between some friends and me. The question is fundamental. First, in 2014. some of my friends dropped out, and then… Or rather, it cannot be said that they were friends; my real friends remained my like-minded people. I was not disappointed in most of them.
With the beginning of the active stage of the war, a new stage of the war that happened on February 24th [2022]—and here it is customary to call it not just the beginning of the war, but the continuation of the war, its new stage—a war that has been going on for eight years because Russian troops have been in Ukraine, Crimea, and Donbas for eight years. So, before the start of this war, I found myself in Ukraine again and continued to maintain contacts with people from Russia. In the very first days of the war, I discovered that many, understanding in general terms the illegality of this aggression, many cannot imagine that there is a real brutal murderous war, including civilians—that the methods of this war, which are used by the Russian army, are simply the most brutal, the most real crimes—none of this [is] not a special operation. Many people, even those who understood the horror of the invasion, could not imagine what was really happening; they refused to believe.
And I decided—taking advantage of the fact that I was trusted, with my certain authority—I decided that it was necessary to convey information to them from the field. The place where I ended up is the city of Zaporozhye. What happened here, I describe.
I called my blog “Eyewitness from Zaporozhye.” If I had bombarded my friends with emotions, not facts, not evidence, it would not have looked so convincing. On the one hand, [there was] a desire to convey information. And on the other hand, I began to write daily in order not to keep impressions in myself, but to splash [them] out, formulate. When you write, when you formulate, you yourself are more aware of what is happening and can relate to reality more consciously, not so emotionally. If you keep your mind and the ability to analyze, then you have the opportunity to protect yourself and your family to a greater extent, to take the right steps that will contribute to the safety of you and your loved ones.
Why do I write in Russian? I wanted to convey the information to my Russian-speaking friends. It seems to me that many people began to read my diaries because when you see the situation through the eyes of a particular person, it causes more confidence. Sometimes eyewitness accounts of a small fact say much more about the situation than analytical reviews. I notice such facts and try to convey them to people.
On the other hand, I can formulate my thoughts more fully in Russian. I know the Ukrainian language; I try to communicate in it. I can keep up a conversation, but not as well as those born in a Ukrainian-speaking environment. I grew up in a Russian-speaking environment, but I studied Ukrainian and wrote essays in it at school. Ukrainian is my second native language. I’ve made a lot of progress in it over the past ten months, lifting all the layers of Ukrainian that were embedded in me. Progress is evident; all my Ukrainian-speaking friends talk about it. But even those people who slightly reproached me for writing in Russian, they realized that my Russian-language posts are more effective—that is, they will gather more readers. They are read in Russia and in Ukraine, where everyone speaks Russian. And writing in two languages is difficult; some posts are quite long.
And for the English-speaking audience, posts in Russian are still easier, since there is not an automatic translation from Ukrainian to English everywhere. But I think this situation will be corrected. Because the Ukrainian language, even if it is not on the list of the most popular and widespread in the world, I am sure that now it will receive support from many global IT companies in the form of an automatic translation services from Ukrainian and into Ukrainian.
NP
Please tell us about the Hand of Help Foundation. How was it created, who does it help, how can somebody transfer money (or help in some other way)?
AK
Natalia, by the way, answering your question about the place of Russians in the modern world, about the war and what they can do, I realized that I did not tell you about a very important thing.
Having engaged in charity work as a volunteer, I did it not only for myself. I addressed my audience, to my friends, subscribers: “Guys, if you really want to do something, if you want to help Ukraine, you could participate financially. And I, being inside the situation, know how and who to help.”
One of my missions—once again pathetic words, but how to say it differently—is to provide the opportunity for those Russians who understand everything, realize everything, and feel their responsibility for what is happening and want to help somehow, at least for my environment. I figured out how to do it. I work for the foundation—well, I don’t work, I volunteer. And you trust me. I try to justify your trust one hundred percent and I really appreciate this trust. You can’t do something with some specific personal actions. If you can help refugees in Europe, that’s great. If you can help refugees in Russia, it’s also good. Even regardless of the views of these refugees, many of the views of the refugees who came to the Russian side do not coincide with the views of those who went to the Ukrainian side. But in any case, people are in distress and it’s needed to help them, too.
If you have such a need, you can, no matter how banal it sounds, materialize it in the form of financial assistance. Of course, you can’t do it directly, but believe me, whoever is looking for something will always find it. Almost everyone has friends abroad; friends have the option to make a transfer to Ukraine. If not the friends themselves, then their foreign friends, who will be happy to help.
I know that the words of gratitude that Russians receive from Ukrainians, from Ukrainians in need of help, restore the ground under the feet of those who look with despair at what their country is doing. So, if you don’t know how to help, ask me how [by connecting with the Hand of Help Foundation]: https://www.handofhelp.com.ua.
NP
You have repeatedly referred to the place of Russian citizens in the current world in your blog.
Is there one? And what is it? A friend of mine recently said that we (Russians) should drink an elixir like Alice in Wonderland in order to shrink and not be seen.
AK
Finally, I would like to say this. When we meet with friends in Zaporozhye or Kiev, of course we discuss all the hardships of the martial law in which we find ourselves—i.e., some household details, frontline news, news from our friends from the front line, which are not funny. Nevertheless, we don’t look dull.
After such meetings, I charge myself with cheerfulness and optimism, and [also] charge others—i.e., such an energy exchange occurs. Where does [this] cheerfulness and optimism come from? It’s because inside everyone, there is a spark: confidence that our cause is right, that we are fighting with such a concentrated evil, pure evil, and that our country has great prospects both political and economic. And we think how great it will be after the end of the war. This helps to maintain optimism and radiate it outwards.
I often talk to my Russian friends. Some of them are inside Russia; many are outside it. My friends are my like-minded people by and large. We may disagree on some details; it’s inevitable. When a person is inside a war and when he looks at it from the outside, it is difficult to assume that the assessments will coincide in everything. So, when I talk to them, I often look like a psychotherapist, charging them with cheerfulness and optimism from here. But it costs me nothing. One-on-one with myself, I can sometimes get sad. But when I communicate with people who are worried about Ukraine, often on the verge of a nervous breakdown, I radiate optimism naturally because I feel my moral advantage. I am here among like-minded people; we are the majority here and we are united by one noble goal: [to] defeat evil, no matter how grandiloquent it sounds. War is a period when you have to speak grandiloquently; it’s hard to put it any other way. War does not tolerate semitones.
This is a moral advantage—it’s worth a lot. On the one hand, it allows you to keep your strength, to live on, to act on, to live actively. It is this, this moral advantage that will eventually affect the result of this war, in the sense that one motivated person (and a motivated person is a person with a moral advantage) is worth more than three unmotivated ones. And despite the fact that this is a technology war first of all, the human factor in this war is of great importance. [There are] motivated Ukrainians who defend their land—I won’t even say the country or the state, but their land—[and defend] their relatives and friends, first of all, who are in real danger. It is the confidence that the truth is on your side that will allow you to win.
I also want to say that despite the fact that there is a curfew, martial law, appeals to the military commissariat, [and] waves of mobilization, not everyone is ready to serve and respond to the call of [the] military enlistment office. But I do not feel the pressure of the state here at all. The state, even in such an extreme situation, manages to be in the background; it is not the main thing. As there was no sacralization of power, so there is [not any now]. You are not afraid to stop at a checkpoint to check documents; you are not afraid to meet with a patrol that will check documents. You treat this with understanding and the patrol, every time checking documents, apologizes: “Well, you know what the time is; we need to do the check. You’re walking in the dark; curfew is coming soon.”
“Yes, of course, check it out. You are doing the right thing to check!” It is a feeling of freedom from the pressure of the state. Even if the patrol picks you up for inspection, you are not afraid that the patrol will start pressing you. And not only because they are your neighbors, your neighbors in the city. But that’s why you’re not afraid yet, because you know that your friends who know you, who are confident in you, will come to the police and vouch for you, and this will be quite enough to close the issue. And if the guarantee is not enough, then a rally in defense can be arranged if there is suddenly some mistake or illegality.
And this feeling of a democratic country is present even during the war. And this also adds to my moral advantage over the enemy, over supporters of aggression against Ukraine. And a moral advantage over those who are very worried that they see these horrors, but cannot influence them. At least it seems that they can’t.
NP
And what else would you like to add?
AK
I am giving this interview on the day when another missile attack was carried out in Ukraine. About 70 missiles were launched on the territory of Ukraine [on 16 December 2022]. Infrastructure has been damaged in many cities—in Kiev, Kremenchug. I’ve heard that Krivoy Rog suffered.
Fifteen of these rockets landed in the city of Zaporozhye. During breakfast, I counted about seven, the rest, apparently, I did not hear. I counted the ones that arrived closest, two kilometers from home, at the power plant: hydroelectric power station DneproGES. My father worked there all his life; my brother worked there for many years. [It is] an important strategic object located in the city center.
Of course, the city is under the impression of this blow. The volunteers of our charity foundation have gone home because it is unclear whether there will be a second wave or not. Everyone wants to be closer to their loved ones at such a moment. Schools and kindergartens have closed. There are already [only] a few of them working, but everyone who worked was closed today and dismissed the children to their homes. The work of banks is partially disrupted; some stores are closed for the duration of such a situation. The air alert continued. [This is] the usual reaction of the city to a missile strike.
And I came home and I’m giving this interview to Natalia. And I think this is what I can do as long as there is electricity, internet. This is very important; not only I think so, but also my friends. My classmate—who has been at the front since February—when I asked him back in March if I could do enough good by coming to the front without having any military skills, he told me that my front was to write, to tell, to inform, and that I did it well.
I don’t consider my diary a weapon. But if it helps to understand something, to feel something, to realize something—and I hope that it is—I will continue to write. This is what I can do in my place when I am limited in movement around the city or not engaged in volunteer activity. So, that’s it!
Below are a few excerpts from Alexander’s diary, a few days from the very beginning of the war, the middle, and yesterday, as I compile this article.
February 28, 2022
It’s quiet in Zaporozhye so far. Three destroyed buses with saboteurs, the destruction of military and civilian airports, the echoes of the cannonade on the outskirts of the city, where the enemy’s heavy equipment was stopped, do not count. Yesterday there was a crowd of thousands in the city center. Eyewitnesses claim that the bill went to tens of thousands. I can’t confirm, but even if there were several thousand, it doesn’t change anything. There were men standing. They signed up for territorial self-defense units. It was necessary to present […]
A friend of my father’s is in his 60s. He also went to sign up. He has weapons skills and is also in pretty good physical shape. He was told that there were more than enough people for now, but if help would be needed, they would call them.
A young girl, who was sitting next to him in a bomb shelter for a couple of hours, said that all her friends had signed up for the militia and had prepared dozens of boxes of molotov cocktails. Here they are called Bandera smoothies. The same is transmitted by friends from the Dnieper. From Odessa, they send photos where the whole area is filled with cocktail boxes. Videos of their application appear on the web. The passenger car catches up with the tank moving alone from behind, a bottle flies out of the window towards the tank, the tank is on fire. Putting out such a fire is probably not difficult. But it is necessary to get out of the tank, and then the militia armed with machine guns against the tank can come in handy. Not only troops, but also local residents are burning cars and trains with fuel.
March 27, 2022
Since 2014, my Berlin friend has felt himself like a Ukrainian. Since the beginning of the war, a friend has sent money to the Ukrainian army and volunteers, taking an active part in the fate of refugees. He calls himself a Ukrainian and is wholeheartedly rooting for the victory of Ukraine. Now even those residents of the country who were exempted from studying Ukrainian as a second foreign language in a Russian-speaking school feel themselves like Ukranians. And these “liberated” now not only feel belonging to the country, but are also ready to defend their home and their world with weapons in their hands.
March 30, 2022
I sincerely sympathize with those good guys from Russia, who also got it in their own way. I can only reproach one thing that they were not thinking about politics and this allowed evil forces to create such horrors now. It should be forbidden in Russia to let the formation of power take its course. This always threatens the revival of totalitarianism.
You won’t believe it, but I feel better here than I would in Moscow. I am in a free country with good perspectives, which is supported by the entire civilized world. Let the rockets fly overhead for now. But it will end, for sure. And definitely not in a way Russia wants.
April 30, 2022
When, after two weeks of silence, my friends from Mariupol got in touch, it turned out that they managed to escape from the city and hitchhike to the village of Urzuf (I wrote about this more than a month ago). Then it was necessary to get to Berdyansk, which, although it was occupied, from where evacuation buses regularly went towards Zaporozhye at that time. There were no passing cars for several days. The situation became more and more alarming. It was necessary to get out urgently.There are 32 km in a straight line on foot from Urzuf to Berdyansk. `And it seemed an insurmountable obstacle for my acquaintances. One of them is 70 years old, another is about 40. Their fears are understandable and justified, especially given their baggage. Thank God, they were eventually able to get to Berdyansk by car.
December 14, 2022
And many more kind people responded to my offer to make a gift to people who spend a lot of time in cold basements because of the shelling, and send money for stoves. We wanted to collect three stoves, but already have money for more. And several stoves are already in operation. They are made to our order. You can still participate. More precisely, it’s never too late to make a stove with your participation. Details in the first comment.
https://www.facebook.com/alexander.kubrak/posts/pfbid022jKX4zq6Gn7vDe3CXEedvQZr
These are my lasting thoughts and reflections after my conversations with Alexander:
The longer the war lasts, the clearer it becomes what a difficult ordeal we all have to share. And we must try, no matter what, to remain human. I remain certain that being human is the most powerful weapon against this war.
About the Authors
Natalia Petrova was born in Moscow and studied geography in Moscow University. But because of the outbreak of perestroika, she did everything in a row—working as an editor, translator, business administrator, and PR person. In 2002, she received her second degree in higher education at the Sogetsu School of Moscow Architectural University, and in 2009, she studied at the Free Workshops of the Museum of Modern Art in Moscow.
In 2010, at the Center for Contemporary Art in Moscow, she was included in organizing the youth biennale, “Stop! Who’s coming?” and helped to organize an alternative biennale, “Go! Where did you go?” For the last 10 years, she has worked as a press attaché for the International Memorial, an NGO created during perestroika. The International Memorial was dealing with preserving the memory of the victims of Soviet repression and protecting human rights. The NGO was liquidated in Russia by the Supreme Court of the Russian Federation in February 2022 and in October 2022 became a Nobel Peace Prize laureate.
Natalia has served as a curator and producer of several exhibitions, including “Tales of 2 Cities” and “Drawing the Court — 2”, etc. In 2016, she was a Bosch Foundation Fellow in the “Truth, Justice, Remembrance and Accountability” program at Columbia University in New York. Natalia is one of the curators of the online Museum of Art and Memory.
Alexander Kubrak was born and raised in Zaporozhye, and graduated from Zaporozhye University, Department of Physics. After graduation, Alexander lived outside Ukraine for a long time in Russia. On the eve of the war, he returned to his hometown. After February 24th, 2022, he actively joined the volunteer movement to help families with children affected by the war.