My father’s decision to join the Waffen-SS Galicia Division testifies to Russia’s long history of tyranny against Ukraine. His reasons for doing so provide context for understanding how, then as now, Moscow drove young Ukrainians toward a moral precipice.
The find is laden with controversy and entwined with the politics of memory. For the Poles, uncovering the dead is a moment for closure — but those in western Ukraine are wary of the disunity that conversations about such efforts may create with one of their closest allies in their fight against Russia.
The subject of the Russian language in Ukraine is of course no joke. It’s also a good example of how a language can be instrumentalized for political purposes. Yet Andrey Kurkov, who uses the Russian language to write about Ukraine, is not alone.
Ukraine’s ability to project power well behind a 1,000-mile line of contact has grown nearly exponentially since the start of Russia’s full-scale invasion last year.
Having serially outperformed expectations, Ukraine finds itself in the unenviable position of having gone from scrappy underdog to victim of its own mythologized success.
By chronicling the destruction in Ukraine before the bombs stop falling, war museum curators are reinforcing the idea of the country’s autonomy. Their efforts reflect Ukraine’s twin ambitions to move the national narrative out of the Kremlin’s long shadow and to claim a future entirely its own.
Trading in war “relics” from past conflicts is a relatively normal, if eccentric, pastime of collectors. But helmets, bags, clothing and shrapnel-pocked pieces of vehicles being taken off battlefields and brought into the marketplace in near-real time is a new occurrence, facilitated by e-commerce, social media and Ukraine’s relatively stable connection to the global supply chain.