Thanks to Pam P.
Borders between one kind of life and another. A moving piece by Timothy Snyder, one of our most well-informed advocates for democracy and Ukraine and author of the 2017 book On Tyranny. I hope he is as safe travelling close to Russian occupied parts of Ukraine as he says he is.
| TIMOTHY SNYDER FEB 12 |  |
I am on a night train from Kyiv, bound for Zaporizhzhia, a city in the southeast of Ukraine which is about twenty miles from the front. Russian missiles take about thirty-five seconds to hit the city, and the take civilian lives. Since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, Russia has occupied part of the Zaporizhzhia region. In September of 2022 the Russian parliament proclaimed the annexation of the region as a whole.
That front is a line that runs through Zaporizhzhia region, and indeed across the east and south of Ukraine. My train rushes southeast, towards that line. Its passengers, civilians and soldiers alike, know what lies on the other side.
Given the nature of Russian occupation, Ukrainians are fighting not only for their lives, but for a certain idea of life in freedom. In the parts of Ukraine controlled by Russia, anyone who showed any initiative or was elected to any position is killed or subjected to torture. Any expression of a political opinion or any gathering or anything that seems like opposition to Russian authorities will lead to a long prison sentence in awful conditions. Just having Ukrainian material on your phone is enough to be sent to prison. Ukrainian citizens in the occupied zones have to accept Russian citizenship in order to have access to basic services, such as schools. Children are kidnapped and sent to Russian families for adoption. They will be raised to hate the land of their birth. Perhaps still worse, they will be raised in a country where the government lies about everything all the time, where the media lies about everything all the time, and this is thought to be normal.
These basic facts create a different kind of existence, on that side of the line.
Ukraine is not a perfect country, and of course war itself makes people less free. The number of killed and wounded, though far lower than on the Russian side, grows every day. Ukrainian men have to serve in the armed forces, whether they want to or not. Even in the unoccupied majority of Ukrainian territory, Russian missile and drone attacks are not only lethal but exhausting. It is worse close to the front, as in Zaporizhzhia, where I arrive tomorrow morning, or Kharkiv, which I visited last September, because there is no time to take shelter from the missiles. But everywhere in the country nights are interrupted and people are at risk. I spent part of last night in a bomb shelter in Kyiv, awakened by the siren right after I went to sleep. For me this is an irritation. But for Ukrainians, three years of sleep deprivation takes a toll. The train tonight departed right at the time of the curfew, when people have to go home. This, too, is a certain deprivation of freedom.
And, yet, on this, the Ukrainian side of the line, people lead completely different lives than under Russian occupation or in Russia. Ukrainians say what they want, including about the war and about politics. Journalists cover the war and write about politics. There is fear, although less than you might think; but it is fear of bombs and missiles and violence from Russia, not of denunciations or oppression or of one’s own government. I have the strange feeling, this week in Kyiv, that Ukrainians are living freer lives now than Americans. At a book store where I was talking to a Ukrainian philosopher about freedom, a young woman put her hand on my arm and said “sorry about the U.S.”
There are lines that matter. If I made some sort of mistake, and somehow found myself on the Russian side of the line in the Zaporizhzhia region, I would probably disappear for good. Russian authorities have made clear what they think of me, sanctioning me not once but twice. (And, to be clear, it is a terrible idea for any American to go to Russia now; you will just be kidnapped, and held for some possible exchange for a Russian criminal.) If I crossed that line, it is unlikely that I would come back. (continued)