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September is not only the beginning of autumn and the new school year. This is the hope that Russian missiles will soon stop flying over Ukrainian schools and homes, that the lives of Ukrainian children will be safe, and that the enemy will forever quench its aggressive appetites and disappear
Roman Oleksiv and Oleksandra Pascal, who suffered due to the attacks of the Russian Federation, performed a gentle dance at the Summit of First Ladies and Gentlemen. During the full-scale invasion, 577 Ukrainian children died, and another 1,628 were injured. Photo: Press materials
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The first day of school for Ukrainian schoolchildren — September 2 — began to the accompaniment of Russian rockets. Instead of sweet sleep in their beds, the children were forced to flee to the bomb shelters, where they tried to get at least a little more sleep. But the enemy did not stop the attack, firing more than a dozen cruise missiles and about a dozen ballistic missiles at Kyiv alone. And in two days, the most tragic event in Lviv happened - during the attack, a whole family died - a mother and three daughters. But, despite this, Ukraine continues to live. Indomitable Ukrainians demonstrate their strength and power in dances, at exhibitions, on catwalks. Because the Russian enemy is unable to do one thing - break the spirit of Ukrainians.
Text: Natalya Ryaba
Photo: Michal Cizek / AFP/ East News
On September 7, demonstrators staged a protest in Prague, holding blue and yellow umbrellas. The participants of the rally called for effective air defense for Ukraine and to give it the opportunity to strike back. Demonstrators created a "map" of Ukraine using blue and yellow umbrellas.
Photo: Anatolii STEPANOV / AFP/ East News
Students of the International Academy of Personnel Management watch as rescuers put out a fire in one of the buildings of the university after a rocket attack on Kyiv on September 2, 2024. While hiding in the bomb shelter, the students heard the whistling of rockets and explosions.
Photo: Diego Herrera Carcedo / Anadolu/ AFP/East News
Ukrainian military medics render aid to a wounded Ukrainian soldier at a stabilization point in the Chasiv Yar region on September 6, 2024.
Photo: Anatolija Stepanowa / AFP/East News
A Ukrainian servicewoman talks on the phone with her children. On September 13, Russia and Ukraine conducted another exchange of prisoners. 49 Ukrainians returned home — 23 women and 26 men. For the first time in a long time, it was possible to return the "Azovs" to Ukraine. The United Arab Emirates helped organize the exchange.
Photo: Yuriy Dyachyshyn / AFP/East News
Ukrainian schoolchildren sing the national anthem during the ceremony for the beginning of the new academic year in Lviv, September 2, 2024.
Photo: Yuriy Dyachyshyn / AFP/East News
September 4 became the most tragic for Lviv during the entire war. A mother and her three daughters were killed in the attack. Only the father remained alive. The whole city came to the funeral of the dead. As a result of shelling in Lviv, seven people died, 66 were injured. Also, 188 buildings were damaged, including 19 architectural monuments.
Photo: Siergiej SUPINSKY / AFP/East News
A couple looks at posters depicting fallen Ukrainian soldiers of the Azov Brigade at an open-air exhibition in Kyiv on September 23, 2024.
Photo: Joe Giddens / PA Images / Forum
Freya Brown, a dog trainer in the British Army, with her military dog Zac during a training session with Ukrainian army personnel, at a barracks in the East Midlands, U.K., September 10, 2024. Two years after invasion, large areas of Ukraine are covered in landmines and unexploded ordnance, including cluster munitions, and dogs play a key role in keeping soldiers and civilians safe.
Photo: матеріали для преси
Presentation of Veronika Danilova's collection as part of Ukrainian Fashion Week, September 1, 2024. The designer dedicated her collection called "Garden of the Clouds" to her homeland, inspired by memories of a Ukrainian garden and blossoming apple trees.
Фоторедакторка, авторка текстів про фотографію. Протягом 16 років працювала у виданні «Gazeta Wyborcza», 6 з яких — головною фоторедакторкою. Випускниця факультету журналістики та політології Варшавського університету, а також Європейської академії фотографії. Викладає прес-фотографію в Університеті гуманітарних і соціальних наук у Варшаві (SWPS).
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Nothing survives without words. Together, we carry voices that must be heard.
Olga Pakosh: In light of what is happening today, how can we talk about building bridges?
Krzysztof Czyżewski: We first need to realize how few of them we have actually built.
Why?
We were given time—time we largely failed to use. Today comes the test of what we did with it, and it turns out it could have been much more. Too few bridges were built—between Poles and Ukrainians, but also many others. Because all these bridges are interconnected. Fear of the other very easily turns into scapegoating—of the foreigner, someone of another nationality, culture, or skin color. And this shows that we could have done far more, especially from the bottom up, at the grassroots, organically. We lacked investment in local government, in education—from primary school through every level—in cultural and community-building activities. Had we put more effort into these, we would be in a completely different place today.
That’s why the work of rooting is so important—in a place, in oneself, in our identity. When the full-scale war in Ukraine broke out, refugee children came to Krasnogruda. One of the first projects we did with them was an animated film.
The children called it Pokój (“Room/Peace”), because they discovered that in Polish the word has two meanings: “absence of war” and “my space to live.” It was precisely this space they had lost—their room, their home—and that’s what they longed for. They also understood that the one who starts a war is the one who has no room of their own.
People deprived of rootedness and a sense of community are more easily swayed by ideologies that lead to hatred and violence. That’s why we need time to rebuild this rootedness, which our region still lacks because of its history of wars and regimes. We simply wasted the time we were given.
We invested in roads—because that’s easy, because every politician wants to boast about them. But investments in schools, cultural centers, civic organizations—in people—were never a priority. And yet those are precisely the investments that could give us the strength to stand against hatred and war.
The Comfortable Role of the Victim
What is hatred? No one is born with hatred. It always has a source, usually in the early stages of life. Something must have happened in our environment—in the family, at school, in the community. Something that made us susceptible to this illness called hatred.
To confront it, we must go back to its beginnings. To the moment when a child or young person found themselves in a situation where no one defended them, protected them, or taught them how to cope with harm. It’s the environment that shapes a person, and if it is not built on peace, it creates space for hatred. Hatred often grows out of emptiness, resentment, and a sense of loss. A person who experiences pain at the hands of others, lacking the tools to understand it, builds a defense mechanism: they start believing that hatred will make them stronger.
Imagine a young Czesław Miłosz. He dreams of Western Europe, of Paris—and during a trip with friends, he reaches a bridge on the Swiss–French border. There he sees a sign: “No entry for Slavs, Gypsies, Jews.” Such a blow can trigger two reactions. One is to respond in kind: return home and put up a sign against the French or the Germans. But one can also react differently: do everything not to answer hostility with hostility. Yet to choose this path, one needs support—spiritual, moral, found in an authority or a community.
We encounter such “signs” even today—in a metaphorical sense—living in multicultural societies. We often, and unwittingly, hurt others with words or gestures. These are moments when we can take Miłosz’s path: to dedicate our life and work to opposing the philosophy of exclusion. But choosing this path means loneliness. As in the case of Miłosz, who in interwar Vilnius—governed by nationalists—was told that history did not belong to him.
The “signpost philosophy” always builds a fortress. It assumes one must close off, build walls, and cast outsiders in a bad light. It’s the feeling that strength comes from isolation. I have met people who build such fortresses. Today this is very visible in Ukraine. My Ukrainian friends wrote to me after February 24th: “I hate. That’s my state of mind.” I understand this. In the face of aggression, one builds defensive embankments, protects family and community. Perhaps a soldier needs hatred as a weapon—it gives determination and strength.
But the crucial question is about the boundary. Between the person who can treat hatred like a shield, then set it aside after the fight and return to normal life—and the person who becomes its captive. If you can put it down, hatred remains a temporary weapon. If you cannot, the illness takes control. Then hatred doesn’t end with the war—it begins to destroy life, relationships, one’s entire world.
How can we defend ourselves against hatred in today’s world?
Sometimes a person must build a fortress, but a fortress is not a natural environment for life. When a new generation arrives—our children—they will feel curiosity and the need to go out into the open world. Because a fortress, if accepted as a permanent home, becomes a prison—and everyone wants to escape from prison.
So the question is: if I build a bridge to the other side, risking my own shore and the possibility that an enemy may use it—am I acting against life?
Would it be better to stay on my side and live more safely, more comfortably? This is how supporters of extreme, xenophobic ideologies think: that it’s best to be only among one’s own. Except that in human nature such a scenario never proves life-giving. Sooner or later it leads to illness—xenophobia or hatred.
That’s why courage is always necessary. To resist hatred, we must cultivate inner strength to overcome our emotions. And yet we have a tendency to justify our hostility easily: we pick at resentments, repeat that someone wronged us. It feels comfortable to wear the skin of the victim, because then we are always ostensibly on the “good side.” But staying in the role of the victim also leads nowhere. It breeds weakness and fear—fear of opening up, of encountering the other.
What does this mean in practice? If I, as a Pole, am afraid to admit that in Jedwabne, during the Holocaust, a crime was committed against Jewish neighbors and I prefer to conceal this truth—where is my patriotism then? Where is my courage?
There is no courage in falsifying history. Courage is born when I can look into the eyes of those who were victims, when I do the work on myself. It is difficult, critical work of memory. If we want to build bridges with others, let’s start with ourselves. Let us ask: are there not painful places in our own history that we should work through—acknowledge, beat our breast, return the truth to others, or at least try to listen? Paradoxically, this does not weaken us—it makes us stronger.
On the doorstep of the house where Polish writer and philosopher Stanisław Vincenz once lived — Hutsul region, Ukraine.
Pop Culture Pure
How would you explain the shift from the immense openness toward Ukrainians in February 2022 to the current state, where some say that help was unappreciated or that newcomers “give nothing in return”? Is it fatigue, lack of courage, or something deeper in human nature?
What’s missing is something else. What’s very dangerous is what politicians often try to convince us of: that our attitude toward Ukrainians must be conditioned by interest. In my view, the spontaneous, magnificent reaction of people was simply a human reaction. No one asked then what we would get out of it. It was as Pope Francis said in Lampedusa about the Church: it should be like a field hospital.
It doesn’t matter what your faith, nationality, or skin color is—you simply serve a person in need. This is an absolute human duty. Without asking about interest, advantage, or profit.
If we step down from that level—and today many try to frame help for Ukrainians in terms of budgets, gains, or losses—we reduce the field hospital to a marketplace.
And that’s exactly what we see in the world. It used to be unthinkable that states would give weapons only in exchange for raw materials. Today this approach is part of the political mainstream. It’s a moral collapse.
Of course, rationality, logic, and common sense are needed—especially in politics and strategic decisions.
At the same time, we must act on a human level. Because we are Christians, Poles, Ukrainians, people. There are no narrow categories here. It’s not about nationality or religion, but about a human being in need.
The first wave of refugees from Ukraine made this very clear. I remember Viktoria Amelina [a Ukrainian writer who died in hospital on July 1, 2023, from injuries sustained during a Russian attack on Kramatorsk—ed.] in Krasnogruda telling me that at the border she felt treated better than refugees from other countries. She was privileged simply because she was Ukrainian. That shows the limit of our wonderful Polish–Ukrainian period of solidarity—right next to the Belarusian border, the symbol of non-solidarity.
When such selection creeps into our responses, we see a symptom of illness: our assistance and attitudes are no longer fully true or natural. It’s not about judging people—we’re all in the same boat; we all have oversights and limitations. But it’s also part of a great moral decline, a degradation we’re witnessing worldwide. It shows how much fear, anxiety, and uncertainty we harbor, and how little of the peace that children talk about. And how easily populist politics can lead us astray.
Why does hatred take root in us so easily? Is it politics, ideology, indoctrination (imposing certain ideas and beliefs on a person — Ed.)?
Or perhaps pop culture? And culture? How is it possible that in a democratic society we separated pop culture from culture—that pop culture is meant to reach people who “won’t understand” culture because it’s too difficult, not for them?
If we accept that conversations about values, morality, and understanding the other are intended only for those in that “other” culture and not for everyone, the tragedy begins.
The tragedy is that in a democracy we don’t trust people. We don’t believe they can make difficult decisions themselves, hold values, and take responsibility for them.
We persist in the belief that we must speak to people in a simplified way, otherwise they “won’t understand.” Politicians and the media often take this path. They create a “pop-cultural mush,” and we pay the price. We’ve created pop-cultural politics, pop-cultural politicians, and politics characterized by leveling down. It’s the result of our underestimating culture and failing to understand that conscience—our spiritual culture—is an obligation for everyone, without exception.
Szewczenko or Miłosz are for everyone, and with everyone we can talk about values, demand reflection, action, and responsibility. It’s like the wisdom of the Gospels—they are not reserved for the chosen. We have lost faith that this has anything to do with everyday life. Even people who consider themselves Christians often craft their own “life-gospel,” at odds with the true Gospel, while politicians offer a discourse full of xenophobia and hatred.
Here lies a serious neglect, for which we are now paying the price. A vast arrogance and paternalism that we have allowed to speak. As a result, we’ve lost many citizens—people who felt utterly marginalized not only in terms of material well-being but also in terms of trust and co-responsibility for the world’s affairs. Pushed aside and often stigmatized as xenophobes.
I never use such labels for anyone. Because when you call someone a chauvinist or a xenophobe, you put them against a wall. You strip them of the ability to move—and thus the chance to change. Culture should provide space and time for us to change, learn, and mature. That’s what our culture often lacks: patience for process, the understanding that change takes time.
The history we come from, and the new tragic circumstances, place demands on us that often exceed our strength. Sometimes we are too weak to bear them. But does that mean we are immediately bad—and forever? Perhaps we can still be partners—for conversation, for cooperation, for living together—even if we handle our emotions differently.
We are very good at cornering people. “You are this—period.” Meanwhile, we should learn to understand ourselves and others, to transcend our own limitations, to practice the art of dialogue—because only then is true transformation possible.
You speak of empathy, which was so visible at the beginning. But haven’t you noticed that today the word “neighbors” has practically disappeared from the media when we speak about Ukrainians?
“Neighborhood” is a good word, isn’t it? A neighbor is already part of our life. And if we drive them out, a feeling arises… that there is no threat, and no need for effort or even sacrifice, because a neighbor demands more from me.
A neighbor is someone you can rightly offer hospitality to, someone you can share with, someone you coexist with and share responsibility for something with. Simply by existing, a neighbor touches deeply rooted values in us—and puts them to the test.
If we succumb to confrontational, hateful ideology, we push out words like “neighborhood,” “kinship,” “the common good.”
I won’t even dwell on the fact that politicians try to convince us that it’s in our interest to cut ourselves off from Ukraine—which is absurd, because Ukraine provides us with security. If we were rational and sober about what is truly good for us, we should do everything to make our neighborhood as deep and as close as possible.
Anna Łazar, Yuri Andrukhovych and Krzysztof Czyżewski. Private Archive
Meanwhile, we allow ourselves to be ruled by what is irrational or aimed at short-term effects (which amounts to the same). We let weakness work within us and perceive threats where they do not truly exist.
I would also like to address Ukrainians—to understand that sometimes it’s not worth attaching too much importance to these momentary crises—just as in the life of an individual, so in a collective body we sometimes succumb to weakness, and politicians draw out the worst in us. We should not believe that this is a permanent state, nor should we immediately put Poles against the wall, assuming that “this is how they are now.”
Of course, we should set standards for ourselves—now I’m speaking about Poles in the context of the situation in Ukraine. But at the same time, it is worth giving ourselves a chance to change: to be more understanding, more empathetic, to trust that change is possible. I also don’t attach excessive importance to momentary gusts in social media—those winds change very quickly.
I would rather focus on long-term, grassroots, organic building—creating things that won’t bear fruit today but will do so in a few years. Because trust has extraordinary power. If I, Ms. Olga, believe that even if you (purely hypothetically) feel prejudice, resentment, or hatred toward me, it won’t be forever—and I don’t close myself off to our mutual presence—and if I believe our relationship can change—then you will not remain indifferent to that. You will sense in me not an enemy, but a person open to change. That is precisely what releases positive energy between us.
Sometimes it demands more of us than we could realistically expect—greater generosity than daily life calls for. And that’s what builds a person, gives extraordinary strength. For me, beauty lies in the Ukrainian word peremoha. When I travel the world, I always urge people to learn it not in translation (“victory”) but in its Ukrainian meaning.
Peremohty, mohty—it means the ability to act beyond one’s own capacities. Even if we have limitations, traumas, weaknesses, there is such a thing as peremohty: to be able to do more than we can. And that is true victory.
To achieve this, we must extend ourselves a credit of trust, create good energies that allow us to do more than we believe possible. Two years ago our borders opened, solidarity emerged, and suddenly we were able to show a better face—better than before, in the context of the Belarusian border. Even those who previously stood for radical confrontation and closing the border to refugees could not silence their own consciences in the face of need—children in the Białowieża Forest who needed a simple glass of water. You can’t calm your conscience that way. Ideological arguments aren’t enough.
And suddenly Ukrainians appeared, toward whom we could be entirely different. It was a moment when we became better than ourselves, though such moments never last long. Our wisdom should lie in knowing how to appeal to what is best in us, building on that, and not giving up the work of maturing into those values.
There Are More People of Good Will
After the president vetoed the law on assistance for Ukrainian mothers and as a wave of hatred grew, one of my colleagues asked: what should I do now? Where should I go? I chose to stay in Poland, and I don’t know what I should feel or how to live, if I’m even afraid to speak Ukrainian with my child on the street.
For a moment I thought that it’s increasingly difficult today to advise your colleague where she might go to be better off. There are fewer and fewer such places in the world. Of course, that is no excuse for what’s happening in our country. But it is one of those painful lessons we receive from the modern world. I return to the idea that we are part of communicating vessels. What happens here is interdependent with other places in the world, and we often struggle to cope with that.
Let’s have no illusions: we live in an era of moral decline, a degradation of humanism.
Of course, I would like people like the one you describe to remain in Poland—because we need them. I don’t mean this in terms of budget revenue, though that’s obvious. That’s not the logic I’m using. These people are needed so that we can grow into the maturity demanded of us by the situation in the world—and so that we have a chance to change our own attitudes. Your colleague, experiencing intolerance in Poland yet still engaging in building good neighborliness, has a chance to be part of a process of change—one that won’t happen overnight and will surely bring her suffering, but in the long run it carries hope.
Because in this process there is strength and potential—we change the world where we are, not by endlessly fleeing elsewhere.
My philosophy largely rests on changing the world from within. There is a growing temptation to flee from various environments, institutions, religions, or countries because something seems unbearable or contrary to our beliefs. But that’s escape. Then we become perpetual nomads.
The answer is to stay, to find a room, to take root, and to work—with an understanding of all the conditions that come with it. Such rootedness is not the same as returning to a lost place (though may such returns be possible). It is staying within a new situation and learning it mutually—this gives a chance for growth.
A second reflection is that there are more of us than we think: us, people of good will. We live in a world that often minimizes our presence because it amplifies drama, conflict, pain, and injustice. The voice of harm reaches the media; it is harder to express good and positive emotions. This is also my work: to help people give voice to the good emotions that, I believe, dwell in everyone—even in those who hate deeply. In everyone there is a spark of a need to do something good. The problem is often how to do it, how to give it form.
We lack holidays, language, and culture for this—and politics even more so—because we live in a world where harm, pain, and hatred are easy to express. Sometimes it’s about a wise perspective: perhaps there are more of us than it seems; perhaps the politician who has won and seems monstrous does not, in fact, have all our votes.
Where is that other half of Poland? It exists—and there are ways to reach it. It’s difficult, but it gives hope.
I’ve lived in Poland for 10 years, and I’ve heard from various people that humans are inherently good—which I never heard in Ukraine. Two Poles also told me that even if people do something bad, they later regret it.
What I’m talking about is close to what I earlier called the spark of good in every person—something hard to bring out. I speak of it because it was passed on to me by people who went through real hell. Starting with Miłosz, who survived two world wars; with Holocaust survivors; with Bosnian Muslims whose relatives lie buried in Srebrenica. They could have said that the world is evil, that our actions are meaningless in the face of the destructive forces of dictatorial regimes, that building bridges is weak against military and ideological violence. And yet it was precisely they who taught me not to lose faith in the good—in that small light present in every person, regardless of which “side” they are on.
They taught me that it’s worth working to help others and ourselves—to free the good within us, to find words and time so that our conscience can be spoken, not stifled. And despite the “sober skeptics,” whose voice I respect, and despite having witnessed the core of darkness revealed by wars, I stand with my teachers, who allowed themselves neither nihilism nor agreement that good in this world is doomed to defeat.
Because if they weren’t right, would we be able to have this conversation at all, Ms. Olga?
On August 25, the President of Poland announced a veto of the government bill that was meant to regulate protection and support for families fleeing the war. This decision, and the language that accompanied it – promises to make aid for children conditional on their parent’s employment, prolonging the path to citizenship, reigniting historical disputes – is not a matter of mood, but of cold political calculation.
It strikes at Ukrainian refugee women, at their children, at the elderly and the sick; it also strikes at our schools, doctors, and local governments. Instead of certainty, it brings fear; instead of calm, it threatens family separations, secondary migration, and the erosion of trust in the Polish state.
Imagine that you are the ones at war defending your homeland – and a neighboring country treats your wives, mothers, and daughters as hostages of politics.
After the President’s decision, thousands of homes across Poland were filled with shock, bitterness, and a sense of betrayal. Mothers who fled with children and sick parents from cities and villages turned to rubble now ask themselves: where are we supposed to flee next? Women who chose Poland out of love and trust now feel that this love has not been reciprocated.
A child is not a lifeless entry in a statute, and the aid granted to that child cannot be used as leverage against their mother. Solidarity is not seasonal, it is not a trend. If it is true in March, it must also be true in August. Memory is not a cudgel. A state that, instead of healing the wounds of history, reaches for easy symbols does not build community. A state cannot be a street theater. A serious state chooses responsibility, not political spectacle: procedures, clear communication, protection of the most vulnerable.
We, Polish women – mothers, wives, daughters, sisters, and grandmothers – say it plainly: no one has the right to impose conditions, in our name, on women fleeing war. We will not accept the pain and suffering of people in need of our support being turned into fuel for political disputes. We will not allow the destruction of the trust on which community stands. This is a matter of national interest and of our common conscience. It is bridges – not walls – that turn neighbors into allies, and it is predictable and just law, together with the language of respect, that strengthens Poland’s security more than populist shouting from the podium.
Europe – and therefore we as well – has committed to continuity of protection for civilians fleeing aggression. It is our duty to keep that word. This means one thing: to confirm publicly, clearly, and without ambiguity that the families who trusted Poland will not wake up tomorrow in a legal vacuum; that no child will be punished because their parent does not have employment; that the language of power will not divide people into “ours” and “others.” For a child and their single mother, the law must be a shield, not a tool of coercion into loyalty and obedience. Politics must be service, not spectacle.
We call on you, who make the law and represent the Republic, to restore certainty of protection and to reject words that stigmatize instead of protect. Let the law serve people, not political games. Let Poland remain a home where a mother does not have to ask: “Where to now?” – because the answer will always be: “Stay in a country that keeps its word.”
This is not a dispute over legal technicalities. It is a question of the face of the Republic. Will it be a state of the word that is kept – or a state of words thrown to the wind? Will we stand on the side of mothers and children – or on the side of fear?
Signed: Polish women – mothers, wives, daughters, sisters, grandmothers.
As of today, the letter has been endorsed by over two thousand women from across Poland — among them three former First Ladies of the Republic of Poland, Nobel Prize laureate Olga Tokarczuk, and internationally acclaimed filmmaker Agnieszka Holland. Their voices stand alongside those of hundreds of other women — mothers, daughters, sisters, grandmothers — who have chosen to sign as a gesture of solidarity and moral responsibility.
The full list of signatories is available at the link below:
<frame>"More knowledge, less fear" is the slogan of our new publication series. Safety is based on facts, verified information, and solid arguments. The more we know, the better we will be prepared for the future. <frame>
Is Poland ready for a crisis? In an era of geopolitical uncertainty, the war in Ukraine, and rising tensions across Europe, education and societal organisation are crucial. By welcoming over a million Ukrainian refugees, Poland has not only gained new residents but also unique knowledge and experience from people who have learned civil protection under the harshest conditions—under bombs and rocket fire. This is capital that must not be wasted.
The new law on civil protection and civil defence, in force since January 1, is a concrete response to real threats. At the same time, it offers an opportunity for deeper integration, allowing Poles and Ukrainians living in Poland to prepare together for crises.
Poland has learned from the tragic events of recent years. The new law emphasises three key areas: modernising and constructing shelters and hiding places, improving alarm and notification systems, and launching widespread civic education to ensure every citizen has basic knowledge of how to act during a crisis. The context of the war in Ukraine makes this even more urgent.
Many Ukrainians living in Poland have priceless experience in civil protection - whether as survivors, organisers, or leaders of evacuation and shelter operations.
This is an opportunity Poland must not miss. When war strikes, no system is ever fully ready. What matters then is how effectively we can use what we already have.
What can serve as a shelter? A practical approach to civil protection begins with this question. Knowledge—that is our first "shelter"!
April 19, 2024 - Children entering a bomb shelter at the Perspectiva Gymnasium in Novovasylivka, Zaporizhzhia region, where classes are held in a hybrid format. Photo: Ukrinform/East News/Dmytro Smolienko
According to the new law, every basement, underground garage, or tunnel can serve as a hiding place. It’s worth taking a moment to look around and ask yourself, "What would I do in case of danger?"
It’s better to know in advance than to scramble during chaos.
Here, the experience of Ukrainians in Poland becomes invaluable. Those who have survived bomb alerts can share practical knowledge with Poles, including how to organise life in shelters, secure water and food supplies, address the psychological aspects of survival, and utilise mobile alert apps that have become critical tools in Ukraine. This is not theory. These are real-life experiences from people who face the consequences of war every single day. Their testimony is more valuable than any textbook could be.
Education in this field is the key to safety. Poland must harness the knowledge of Ukrainians and launch a wide educational campaign as soon as possible. According to the new law, local governments and fire services will play a central role in civil protection. However, in practice, the system will only function effectively if hundreds of thousands of people are involved.
Ukrainians who have faced real threats can become instructors, educators, and leaders of this change. NGOS are already playing a significant role in organising training for both Ukrainians and Poles.
This will benefit everyone. Polish municipalities urgently need practitioners who understand the realities of crises.
Every citizen on the front lines.
The new law places local governments in charge of implementing the civil protection system, meaning the battle for the effectiveness of this law will be fought where Poles and Ukrainians live nearby. It is essential to acknowledge that women played a vital role in Ukraine’s civil protection efforts, from rescue workers and volunteers to leaders of humanitarian organisations. They ensured survival amid chaos.
In Poland, too, women can become the driving force behind such changes, joining local governments, NGOS, and educational teams.
Is Poland ready for a crisis and civil protection?
Poland is better prepared today than it was a few years ago. The new law represents a significant step forward, but infrastructure alone will not be sufficient.
What will truly matter is the genuine engagement of citizens in education and crisis response, the effective application of Ukrainian experience, and practical cooperation among local governments, NGOS, and the central government.
Today, Poland is in a better situation than a few years ago. The new law is an important step, but one infrastructure is not enough. The real involvement of citizens in training and the elimination of the consequences of emergencies, the wise use of Ukrainians' experience and effective cooperation between local governments, organizations and the government will be crucial.
April 1, 2024 – Zaporizhzhia. Two workers in a new modular underground bomb shelter for 100 people, being built in the courtyard of a five-story residential building damaged by a Russian S-300 missile on October 6, 2022, now under repair. Photo: Ukrinform/East News/Dmytro Smolienko
This isn’t a Hollywood disaster movie scenario. It’s reality—a reality we must understand and prepare for. In the 21st century, security isn’t just about armies; it’s about conscious, organised societies. And building them starts with education—education based on facts, not fearmongering.
Security is our shared responsibility.
It’s not just the domain of the state. It’s not something the government can "provide" like a service. It’s something we build and give to each other. Of course, institutions, regulations, alarm systems, and shelters are vital. But what truly determines survival during a crisis is people—their relationships, willingness to help, ability to act under stress, and the awareness that, in challenging moments, we are not alone. Every one of us is part of the security system—from the teacher who teaches first aid, to the neighbour who knows the nearest shelter location, to the volunteer who helps newly arrived refugees adjust to a new reality.
The strength of a nation lies in the strength of its society—and society is strong when its members know they can count on one another.
In the past, those who realised that the best defence wasn’t walls or bunkers, but well-prepared, united people, were the ones who prevailed. In Ukraine, social mobilisation saved thousands of lives. In Poland, we have a chance to learn from this experience before a crisis forces us to.
While NATO leaders reaffirm their commitment to supporting Ukraine, and the EU once again demonstrates the fragility of its unity under pressure from Budapest, Russia not only refuses to halt its aggression but is intensifying its actions - both on the battlefield and in the information war. The summit in The Hague did not result in a breakthrough: promises without guarantees, talk of «peace through strength», hints at dialogue with Putin - all amid the increasingly evident decline in American ambition. Simultaneously, Hungary is blocking new sanctions, and the Kremlin is launching sophisticated cyber operations, pretending the world has already accepted its presence.
On how the West’s strategy has changed, what risks stem from illusions about Russia, what the new wave of disinformation means, and why Europe must take the lead in deterring aggression, Sestry spoke with Keir Giles - a leading British expert on security and Russia, and Senior Consulting Fellow with the Russia and Eurasia Programme at Chatham House.
Trump, NATO and Russia: an alliance on the brink of compromise and challenges
Maryna Stepanenko: «Peace through strength» was declared the main theme of the talks between Trump and Zelensky. After the meeting, the head of the White House hinted at dialogue with Putin and possible Patriot missile deliveries, but no firm commitments were made. In this context, how, in your opinion, could the formula «peace through strength» be applied to Russia, and how ready is the US to take on a real role in exerting pressure?
Keir Giles: We have always known that the only way to ensure European security is to provide Ukraine with the maximum possible support. So now we are dealing with the consequences of the policy of several successive US administrations that decided a different approach was needed. They are profoundly mistaken, and this causes enormous damage not only to European security and, of course, to Ukraine itself, but also to global security.
It is precisely such restraint and refusal to confront aggression that has led to the outbreak of global conflicts around the world
We are witnessing escalating situations, increasing casualties, and more wars breaking out - all because of this new American idea that confronting the aggressor is more dangerous than allowing the victim to be destroyed
The NATO summit recognised Russia as a long-term threat to the entire Alliance. Photo: CHRISTIAN HARTMANN/AFP/East News
The meeting between US and Ukrainian leaders once again raised the question: what model of support for Kyiv does Washington envisage? Are we speaking about a strategic partnership or rather about controlled containment of the war without long-term commitments?
There is a serious question as to whether a genuine strategic partnership with Donald Trump is even possible. After all, the United States sought partnership with Russia - and even that does not work particularly well, despite Trump being willing to do whatever it takes to give Russia everything it wants. Any country, any traditional friend, ally or partner of the United States must remember that the relationships upon which America’s former prosperity and security were built no longer have any real meaning for Trump. We are in an entirely new global environment.
This means that countries that take European security seriously, and therefore also the security and future of Ukraine, must step up to fill the gap left by the United States. This applies primarily to Europe’s neighbours, but also to liberal democracies around the world that have a shared interest in ending aggression.
Recently, there were rumours in Brussels that Russia might be removed from the list of NATO’s main threats, leaving only international terrorism. This seems strange considering that it is Russia that continues the war in Europe and destabilises the situation globally, from Africa to the Middle East. In the final communiqué, Russia was recognised as a long-term threat to the entire Alliance. However, do you generally observe an attempt by the West to «normalise» the aggressor?
The United States has long pretended that Russia is not a problem, and we should not rule out the possibility that NATO, in its desperate efforts to retain the US in the alliance, may go along with this rhetoric.
We have already seen signs that NATO is prepared to take extraordinary measures to placate Trump: take, for example, the letter written to him by Secretary General Mark Rutte, deliberately composed in «Trump’s language». It must have been extremely difficult to imitate the verbal expressions of a five-year-old child in order to accomplish this.
Therefore, we cannot confidently predict how far NATO might go to ensure continued US participation in the Alliance. But European countries must harbour no illusions about whether Russia has ceased to be a threat, regardless of the efforts of the current US administration to convince itself otherwise.
The resilience of regimes and the fragility of decisions: what will determine the duration of the war
Despite sanctions, battlefield losses and growing isolation, Putin’s regime is holding firm - at least on the surface. Given your expertise, what is the source of this system’s resilience today, and what could destabilise it from within?
There is little chance that the Russian regime will be brought down from within, as it appears to be a regime with which the overwhelming majority of the Russian population is entirely satisfied.
Ultimately, it is a self-sufficient system in which those who have gained wealth and power within it have no interest in its destruction. Therefore, there is currently no reason to believe that Russia will deviate from its aggressive course, despite the long-term damage and the catastrophic consequences for the country’s economy and its population.
Assuming the end of the war is neither imminent nor hopelessly distant, what factors, in your view, might break the current deadlock? You have outlined internal collapse as unlikely, but could it be external pressure or something else we have yet to articulate?
The answer to this question has always been and will remain the same: European countries must provide Ukraine with maximum physical and financial support to help it defeat Russia, by any means available. Not necessarily on the front lines, but also through other forms of support.
European countries are slowly realising that their future is closely linked to the future of Ukraine, and that they can no longer rely on the United States as the primary sponsor of these efforts. But Europe will need to do much more for Ukraine to continue holding the front line and repelling the aggressor.
Russia and Belarus have announced the «Zapad-2025» exercises. In the past, such manoeuvres have served as a prelude to aggression. Is there currently a risk of this scenario being repeated, and is the West capable of responding adequately amid political fragmentation?
People always become anxious ahead of the «Zapad» exercises - this has been the case long before the full-scale invasion of Ukraine and even before the annexation of Crimea. And yes, it always creates an opportunity to do something unrelated to the training itself.
But at this stage, when there is already an intense conflict ongoing, should we consider «Zapad» as just another element of battlefield deception, part of a broader deception within the ongoing war, rather than the start of a new one?
Of course, Western intelligence services will be closely monitoring who is doing what and where in the context of the Russian-Belarusian exercises - even in this new reality, where a significant part of Russia’s ground forces is already deeply engaged in Ukraine and has limited capacity for operations in other regions.
«The invisible front»: how Russia is waging war against the West in the information space
Mr Giles, you yourself became the target of a new, sophisticated phishing attack by Russian hackers - disguised as an employee of the US State Department. The attackers used Gmail’s «delegate access» function to gain hidden access to your inbox, bypassing two-factor authentication. This operation likely required weeks of effort. In this context, how has Russia’s tactic in the information war changed over the past year? And what does this say about the new level of threat?
I am confident the entire operation took far longer - several weeks just for the execution, so the planning stage must have begun much earlier.
On the one hand, this new technique, this new approach to gaining access to people’s email, indicates that Russia is being forced to develop more refined methods because its previous, more primitive attempts have failed. For many years, there have been numerous attempts to hack my email, some laughably primitive, others highly complex and sophisticated.
But on the other hand, this new method highlights that we are all vulnerable
The way the suspected Russian attackers exploited a built-in Gmail feature available in every user’s account to create, essentially, a «side door» that bypasses all our usual security measures (two-factor authentication, mobile codes, confirmation requests) shows that no one is truly safe.
Until companies such as Google, Microsoft and others fix this loophole, it is inevitable that this technique will be used much more broadly, not only against targets like me.
This summer, Europe witnessed a wave of fake messages sent on behalf of Western governments, social media manipulations, and interference in election campaigns in individual EU member states. How exactly is Russia trying to influence public opinion in Europe today, and which narratives is it primarily promoting?
Some of Russia’s narratives are entirely consistent over time, while others are tied to specific political events. It is important to remember that the campaigns conducted by Russia are ongoing and are not limited to dates on the democratic calendar.
Russia is constantly working to undermine the forces that unite Europe: solidarity among European states, societal cohesion, trust in institutions and, above all, support for Ukraine in resisting Russian aggression
These campaigns are permanent. In addition, there are targeted, time-sensitive efforts aimed at influencing the outcomes of specific democratic processes in specific countries at specific times.
Sanctions fatigue: Is the West’s pressure on the Kremlin still effective?
In addition to the NATO summit, another event important for Ukraine took place - the European Council summit. There, both a new sanctions package against the Russian Federation and support for Ukraine’s negotiation process with the EU were discussed - both initiatives were blocked by Hungary. Sanctions - also by Slovakia. To what extent do such actions undermine trust in EU unity, and what self-defence mechanisms against internal sabotage does the EU need?
This is yet another illustration of how consensus-based organisations - NATO and the EU - are vulnerable to the lowest common denominator. If there is a saboteur or a disruptor within, it can effectively paralyse the entire organisation, especially in the case of the EU, which is primarily a trade organisation rather than a structure designed to address geopolitical conflicts.
In many ways, the very structure of Europe’s supranational institutions does not meet the challenges they currently face
Nevertheless, it is impressive how far they have come in maintaining unity and a shared understanding of the importance of supporting Ukraine. I hope and believe that it will once again be possible to find a workaround to move forward, even without the cooperation of countries such as Hungary, Slovakia or others.
The EU summit failed to adopt a joint statement in support of Ukraine - Hungary blocked it. Photo: Geert Vanden Wijngaert/Associated Press/East News
What does it signify that the United States currently does not intend to increase sanctions pressure on the Russian Federation from its side?
Well, the message from the United States has been very clear. At present, they are partners with Russia and are seeking to impose on Ukraine the terms of capitulation dictated by Moscow. This is the reality with which Ukraine and Europe must now contend.
And it is precisely the adaptation to this reality, and the speed with which it occurs, that will determine the future security of the entire continent.
Cover photo: Office of the President of Ukraine
This project is co-financed by the Polish-American Freedom Foundation under the «Support Ukraine» programme, implemented by the Education for Democracy Foundation
Kaja Puto: History shows that war is an opportunity for the emancipation of women. During the Second World War, European women began to work in industries previously dominated by men, such as railways and the military sector. Are we witnessing something similar in Ukraine today?
Liliya Faskhutdinova: Undoubtedly. Sectors where men previously dominated are now lacking workforce, and more and more women are being employed in them. This is due to the fact that many men are fighting on the frontlines, and thousands have already died there. Some have also refused to work because they are hiding from mobilisation.
You can increasingly see women behind the wheel of a bus or truck, in a mine or on a construction site. However, I would not call this emancipation. Women in Ukraine have been economically active since Soviet times, as employment was mandatory then. After the collapse of the USSR, wages became too low to survive on one income. Therefore, I see it differently: the war has made society more open to women taking on more diverse roles in the labour market.
It also works the other way around, because some men have taken up jobs in sectors dominated by women, such as education. This protects them from conscription, as teachers are considered critically important to the state and are not subject to mobilisation. Perhaps this is not the noblest motivation, but likely some of these teachers will remain in the profession after the war. This could have a positive impact on the gender balance among staff in Ukrainian schools.
And what about politics? Women play a huge role in the Ukrainian volunteer community, which supports the army and state institutions. This community enjoys public trust, which may translate into political success after the war. Are new female leaders already emerging?
Undoubtedly, after the war, new faces will appear in politics, and among them will be volunteers. However, I am not certain that they will be primarily women. Society is aware of the enormous contribution they make to volunteering - helping to raise funds for military equipment, medical supplies and so on. A certain image of the female volunteer has been entrenched in the collective imagination: an older woman weaving camouflage nets for soldiers. However, she usually remains unnamed. In my view, the most recognisable volunteers are men. They are the ones most often awarded and interviewed, and whose faces are known.
Recently, I asked my acquaintances whether they could name any female volunteers. Almost no one could. But everyone knows Serhiy Prytula or Vasyl Baidak. War or no war - it is harder for women to be recognised. Nevertheless, the trend of female activism in Ukrainian politics is on the rise. In the 2000s, women accounted for less than 10 per cent of parliamentarians, now it is over 20 per cent. This may be helped by the quotas introduced in 2019 in electoral lists. We have not had the opportunity to verify this, as no elections have taken place since the Russian invasion, except for local government elections.
A woman walks past sandbags installed for protection against Russian shelling in central Kyiv, Ukraine, Tuesday, June 7th 2022. Photo: AP Photo/Efrem Lukatsky, APTOPIX
Quotas were introduced to bring Ukrainian legislation closer to EU standards in the field of women's rights. Is this argument still convincing for Ukrainian society?
Yes. Ukrainians generally have an idealistic view of the West and want to be part of it. This makes it easier to promote progressive values. Tolerance towards LGBTQI+ people is growing - for many Ukrainians, it seems, precisely because they want to be Europeans. They do not want to resemble Russians, who persecute homosexuals and at the same time decriminalise domestic violence.
We have discussed positive trends that give hope for progress in the field of Ukrainian women's rights. Unfortunately, war also brings dangers in this area.
What do you mean?
There is a risk that when men return from war, they will be so revered that women will be expected to forgive them everything, to show gratitude, to bear them children, even more so than before. In the traditional image, a woman is a protectress, a caring goddess, a martyr who patiently endures all the hardships of family life.
In my parents’ generation, many women supported their husbands even if they abused alcohol. They called their decisions care and responsibility
In Poland, this is the «matka Polka», who «carries her cross». Fortunately, this model is receding into the past.
In Ukraine, it had also begun to fade. But then the war came, and everything became more complicated. Men returning from war find it difficult to reintegrate into reality. They have seen death and cruelty, many suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder, some are prone to violence.
To this are added broken bonds. Long months on the frontline mean that you often feel a stronger connection with your comrades in the trenches than with your family. After returning, this can ruin your relationship with your wife. Mistrust and jealousy arise, suspicions such as: «You cheated while I was gone». I know cases where men at the start of the war wanted their women to go abroad, but now treat them as traitors.
It is hard for me to talk about this. I am infinitely grateful to all the soldiers who are defending my country. If they behave inappropriately as a result of their experiences - I know it is not their fault. My heart breaks when I think about what they have endured.
This is the fault of Russia, which invaded your country.
Yes, it is the fault of the aggressor. But we, Ukraine, cannot allow their suffering to cause additional suffering for women and children. We all suffer, men and women, and many of us will have psychological problems for the rest of our lives.
The war will also leave its mark on future generations. The task of the Ukrainian state, as well as Ukrainian society, is to mitigate these terrible consequences
Are you not afraid that such a campaign may be perceived negatively? Already during the war, Ukrzaliznytsia introduced women-only compartments on night trains. This provoked the outrage of many men: «We are risking our lives for you, and you make us out to be predators?»
Of course, it will be met with resistance. Not only from men, but also from women, especially those whose husbands are fighting or have already returned from the front. Many problems in the army are already very difficult to talk about - gratitude to soldiers makes them taboo topics. However, if we truly want to be a European rule-of-law state, we must learn to find solutions for these uncomfortable problems.
A woman with her daughter waits for a train, trying to leave Kyiv, Ukraine, Thursday, February 24th 2022. Photo: AP Photo/Emilio Morenatti, APTOPIX
What problems do you mean?
For example, sexual harassment in the army. I am not saying this is a widespread issue, but such cases do occur, and they must be condemned. When, at the beginning of the Russian invasion, a victim of such violence publicly shared her experience, some people responded very critically. They accused her of discrediting the Ukrainian armed forces and implied that women join the army to find a boyfriend. Fortunately, after three years of full-scale war, it has become somewhat easier to talk about problems. We no longer censor ourselves as we did at the beginning.
How can the state help veterans?
Helping veterans is one part - they need psychological support, as well as comprehensive programmes to facilitate their reintegration into civilian life. For some, it would be good to receive a grant to start their own business (such programmes already exist), while others need help with employment. We must not allow war veterans to sit idle at home. This also applies to those who became disabled on the frontlines.
However, support is also needed for families. When a soldier returns from war, they bear a huge burden. They do not know what to expect or how to respond. Moreover, I believe a campaign should be directed specifically at women along the lines of: «You have the right to leave, even if your husband is a hero». Nothing justifies living with an abuser.
Nevertheless, the position of Ukrainian servicewomen has generally improved since 2014...
Yes, absolutely. Previously, they could hardly hold combat positions. They fought on the frontlines, but were officially, for example, cooks. Today, such cases are exceptions. Ukrainian servicewomen are appreciated on a symbolic level too - Defender of Ukraine Day, celebrated on 1 October, has been renamed Defender and Defendress of Ukraine Day. The Ministry of Defence acknowledges the contribution of servicewomen to the country’s defence, and stories like «beautiful women make our service more pleasant» are, fortunately, heard less and less in the media. However, it is still difficult for women in the army to be promoted to leadership positions.
A serious problem also concerns homosexual relationships among servicewomen. They are not recognised by the Ukrainian state. When your partner is wounded or taken prisoner, you will not be informed. When she dies, you cannot see her body.
When a biological mother dies, her partner has no rights to the child. This also applies to male military personnel, except that more children are raised in lesbian partnerships
Alright, but ultimately it is men in the army who face greater discrimination - unlike women, they are forcibly conscripted. Thus, they are deprived of their right to life and health, the fundamental human right...
I often hear this narrative from foreigners. It annoys me just as much as when our defenders are told that «killing people is wrong». Of course, it is wrong, but what are we supposed to do? For those who are not confronted daily with a threat to life, it is easy to theorise and criticise our decisions, and harder to offer alternatives. Surrender to Russia? Send everyone to the frontlines? Draw lots to decide which parent ends up in the army? How will we protect children and the elderly then? Who will work to keep the economy going?
Female volunteers of the women's mobile air defence group «Buchan Witches» undergo combat training in the Bucha area near Kyiv, Ukraine, Saturday, August 3rd 2024. The «Buchan Witches» group operates in the Bucha district to shoot down Russian drones approaching Kyiv. Photo: AP Photo/Efrem Lukatsky
Women, unlike men, were legally allowed to leave Ukraine.
This, in turn, is a huge challenge for the Ukrainian sisterhood. Tension has arisen between the women who left and those who stayed. Some of us blame each other: «You abandoned your country in its time of need, you ran away, you betrayed us». Or: «You stayed, you are ruining your children’s lives».
This is very sad to me. I believe everyone has the right to make the decision they think is best for their family. It is a tragic choice, because every decision is wrong in some way. This tension harms Ukraine because some refugee women may not want to return home because of it. I know women who left, and their families stopped speaking to them.
And will they be accepted back?
I think that when the war ends, this tension will subside, and people will begin to live new lives. But for many refugee women, this will be a reason not to return to Ukraine.
Are you not afraid that the negative impact of the war on the rights of Ukrainian women will outweigh the positive?
I do not know. I am an optimist, I hope the positive will prevail. But I assess the chances as fifty-fifty.
How has the war changed you as a feminist?
Before the full-scale war began, I would have said that above all, I am a woman. Nothing was more important to me in terms of my identity. Today I say that I am Ukrainian. War unites nationality more than anything else. If you do not know war, you will never understand it.
<frame>Liliya «Lila» Faskhutdinova is a feminist and human rights activist with ten years of experience in civil society, anti-discrimination programmes and gender equality advocacy. She received a bachelor's degree in philology from the Sorbonne and a master's degree in human rights from the University of Padua. She has worked with Syrian refugees in Turkey, internally displaced persons in Ukraine, people living with HIV, LGBTQI+ individuals and women. She currently lives in Lviv, where she is working on a women’s empowerment project at an international humanitarian organisation.<frame>
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