Anastasiia Marushevska is Editor-in-Chief of Ukraїner International. Ukraїner, conceived by journalist and writer Bohdan Lohvynenko as a volunteer media project, stands as a comprehensive educational initiative dedicated to Ukrainian studies. The project unfolds through socio-cultural expeditions, and since its inaugural journey in June 2016, it has developed a rich collection of multimedia materials translated into fifteen languages. Comprising published books and full-length documentaries about life before and during the full-scale war, the project aims to bridge cultural understanding among non-Ukrainians and Ukrainians alike. By documenting the diverse lives and crafts of residents across Ukrainian regions, Ukraїner endeavours to dispel negative stereotypes, fostering an open and receptive society. The initiative has collaborated with many governmental agencies, non-governmental organisations, and partners in different countries to promote Ukraine globally, and organised events in European capitals. The ultimate goal, as emphasised by project participants, was addressing the lack of information about different Ukrainian regions, thereby contributing to the development of tourism in Ukraine and a better understanding of cultural and national identity.
This interview was conducted in August 2023.
CJLPA: Anastasiia Marushevska, thank you for taking the time to sit with us at The Cambridge Journal of Law, Politics, and Art. You were born in the year Ukraine gained its independence: 1991. It almost seems like you grew up with Ukraine. How did your environment shape your career path? How do you want to help Ukraine in the future?
Anastasiia Marushevska: Thank you for this question. We joke with my friends that we are tired of living through all these historical events that are happening during our lifetime. Growing up in Ukraine, there was always something changing. When I was 22, the Revolution of Dignity[1] happened before my eyes. I was at Maidan, I even lived nearby. Then, the worst started. I was among the generation that has been to Crimea. As a child and as an adult, I had an understanding of what Crimea is, compared to the younger generation who have never been there because it has been occupied for so long.
In many ways, I was shaped in terms of my views in school. I studied at, you do not use this term in English, but we call it ‘gymnasium’,[2] which means an advanced school. I’d say I had very patriotic teachers. Since a young age, I was taught that Russia is not our friend. But it was always in the background because you never really think about it all the time. However, what is important is that my generation is the first to learn a truthful version of Ukraine’s history to understand who we are. Some information was disclosed before, for example about the Executed Renaissance,[3] or the dissident artists from the 60s in Ukraine called ‘the Sixtiers’, or what Stalin’s regime and the Soviet regime, in general, did to Ukraine. However, only a small number of Ukrainians had this knowledge, it had never been explained or taught before Ukraine regained its independence in 1991.
When my generation was learning about the Holodomor,[4] we had a chance to avoid Soviet and Russian propaganda that has always tried to cover this crime. We started looking for the roots of our culture that the Soviet Union destroyed or attempted to destroy. Those shifts to understanding who we were had always been in the background when I was growing up and it continues till nowadays. Travelling a lot around the world, and living in different places, I needed to explain to foreigners where I was coming from, what Ukraine is, and why we are not Russians. I probably sounded like a Ukrainian nationalist to many because I always explained all the beauty my country had.
When Russia invaded Ukraine in 2014, it started being incredibly complicated, as everyone outside Ukraine wanted to talk to me about it. Russians were trying to talk to me, but this conversation always went nowhere and, in general, I avoided it. It was always evident that wherever I went, my mission as a Ukrainian was to build Ukraine’s image and reputation. Otherwise, it was just impossible for me. One cannot pretend that Ukraine has the same level of safety as, for example, France or the UK. We grew up with the idea that we are in danger, being a young country with our historical oppressor as a neighbour. It is like an existential threat that always surrounds you.
For example, I have lived in Bali, Indonesia, for almost four years. It is a highly complex country to build awareness about Ukraine, but it is also essential. Here, compared to Western countries, people have a very low understanding of Europe, especially Eastern Europe. It needs to be built from scratch. Many things are unknown to them.
Unfortunately, there is a particular reason why the world needs to learn about Ukraine. We would not care to this extent whether the world knows about us if there were peace. But now this knowledge is a weapon. So it is vital. I believe that many Ukrainians are the same as me, who were doing different things in their life but ended up focusing all their expertise and resources on working for Ukraine in the way they can.
CJLPA: Many people simply associate Ukrainian culture with Russian culture. What is the importance of shedding light on Ukrainian culture, differentiating it from Russian culture, and showing people that Ukraine has its own identity and culture?
AM: There are several layers here. I was never interested in Russian culture. This assumption that all Ukrainians are somehow involved with Russian culture is not valid because everyone has a different experience here. I am from the central part of Ukraine while many people in the east have been forcibly Russified for generations. I started learning English very early and knew it pretty well almost all my life. I never cared about whatever they were doing in Russia. I was listening to Led Zeppelin and stuff like that. I did not care what was going on there. Of course, I was still exposed to Russian culture. I read a lot as a child and our home library was full of Russian books—a kind of Soviet heritage we all ended up with. But I always liked Ukrainian literature more. For me, Russia is just depressing and has always been.
On the social, contextual, and historical layers, it is crucial to understand that Ukraine and Russia were formed in entirely different spaces. Ukraine has robust ties to Europe because Kyivan Rus was one of the biggest European countries, and our culture and language are much, much older than Russia’s. What you see now in Ukraine and Russia are the results of those different spaces.
Russian society is somewhat like the Mongol invasion of modern times. It is very often forgotten that most of Russian territory is Asia with many tribes and indigenous nations being destroyed, occupied, or Russified at different stages of history. Even Russia and different republics within Russia were formed in completely different historical events than Ukraine. That’s why when someone says Ukrainian culture is similar to Russian, I always ask: what Russian culture—Dagestan, Siberia? Which region? What are you talking about? It is important to pinpoint that Russia was built in many ways on Ukrainian culture that they stole and mutilated, not vice versa.
It is also crucial to recognise that Russian culture is largely shaped by propaganda and their ability to rewrite history. One of the historical facts that I find fascinating is about Queen Ekaterina, who liquidated the Zaporozhian Sich.[5] She decided to rewrite history, claiming that Russia was the successor of Kyivan Rus as a means to forge a connection to Europe since the history of Moscow was barbaric. They existed as barbarian tribes, and she invented a different narrative. For nine years, propaganda historians worked to rewrite history just to build this connection between Russia and Kyivan Rus along with all the heritage that Kyivan Rus left. Since then, everything has gone backwards. Many other events are affecting the vision of Ukraine worldwide. Still, this one is significant because it shows how Russia can use money and resources to create an image of something that does not exist.
Understanding this historical difference is essential. I think many people, especially Europeans, have this idea because, in the Soviet Union, everyone was living under the same concept where there were no colours and no two opinions. There was work and communism, joy was only behind closed doors. For example, when you look at Georgia or Qazaqstan—these are completely different countries. We do not have that much in common in terms of history, languages, heritage, or the way we socialise; the Soviet Union made everyone look the same.
Compared to Russians, people in Ukraine are trying to get rid of all of the Soviet mentality, not to glorify it. We grew up understanding that corruption, for example, is also a result of 70-year-long totalitarianism and we always fought against it. That is the difference between Ukrainian and Russian society. We want to understand our mistakes and build a better future. And it is a very, very complicated journey.
I was born the same year Ukraine regained its independence, but my parents were born in the Soviet Union. They spent all their youth in the Soviet Union. My dad died before the full-scale invasion a few years ago. For him, the fall of the only country he knew was a complicated journey. It took him a long time to find his place in independent Ukraine. He did not know how to live with freedom. For my mum, it was a different story, she jumped on it right away. Everyone needed to go through this journey, having different experiences. It required time for my parents to realise that they were not Soviet people but Ukrainians. Of course, Ukraine is still going through this, we are still fighting against the Soviet mentality and Russian oppressing influence. But I think our path to rediscovering our true roots and heritage is what our modern culture is about.
CJLPA: I want to talk about democracy in Ukraine briefly. Since its independence, Ukraine has been trying to establish itself and progress as a democratic nation. Throughout its modern history, it is constantly trying to improve. Still, they always face challenges dealing with Russian interference. In what ways does the modern Russian Federation disrupts Ukraine’s progress regarding the democratic process?
AM: Sometimes, I ask myself this question: what is there for them? If you take some average Russian, what does he or she gain from Ukraine being invaded or Ukrainian children suffering? They probably feel like they are achieving something. This is the way Russian society is built, on fear and violence. For me, Russia never stops destroying countries around and beyond because it is the only power they know. They are destroying to unite their people. It is dreadful, but this is all they possess and what can explain their action or inaction. The power of destruction and the idle passion for physical force and suffering are deeply ingrained in their culture where everyone is suffering and dying. That is all they have.
If you talk about democratic processes, the Baltic states managed to break free from Russia straight away, other countries could not. But if you look at the so-called post-Soviet space like Eastern Europe and Central Asia, Russia is losing its influence there. Russia is failing more and more economically, socially, and demographically. This idea of Great Russia, cultivated during the Russian Empire and Soviet times, has ceased to exist. Attempting to resurrect this notion is a way for Russia to demonstrate its power and influence global perceptions. To be honest, they have managed to do it because they blackmail the world with energy resources and other means. That is why the world needs to learn how to deal with bullies and prevent them from succeeding.
Some experts believe that Russia invaded Ukraine in 2014 for natural resources as both the East and Crimea are rich with it. I disagree as there are Qazaqstan, Tajikistan, and many other places where they could achieve it. Russia needs Ukraine because, as with Kyivan Rus, it is their only connection to Europe.
I believe this is the ‘Great Russia’ concept, where everyone gets ‘united’ again. That is why, in discussing specific events, we do not always immediately realise Russia’s involvement. It is striking to grow up in a city, noting a lengthy list of aspects in need of change, only to discover later that many of these ‘things’ were somehow tied to Russia’s influence. They had been gradually establishing their presence in the east of Ukraine, in Crimea, for a very long time. This is one of the reasons why they managed to occupy these territories and build a completely falsified image globally.
I believe we were not cautious enough with this. It is a harsh reality, but it is through these experiences that the world is learning about Russia. They managed to get away with all those crimes for so long. Destroying Chechnya, Moldova, Georgia, Syria, and no one ever did anything to them. They never paid for any of their crimes, continuing to do what they know best: destroying. Democracy is not the Russian way of life. It is a system they’ve never truly embraced, and I am sceptical they will in the near future. For them, democracy is an indigestible concept.
For Russia, having democracy next to itself means having Europe and NATO next to itself. Of course, they do not want this scenario because they will not be that threatening anymore. To be honest, if they attempted to do anything against member states, NATO would destroy Russia in a day if countries like China or Iran wouldn’t intervene. So they just create this idea that they are powerful, but against whom?
CJLPA: Let’s shift more to Ukraїner. I want to explore this organisation’s purpose, its activity prior to the war, and how the start of the war in February 2022 changed it. Or did it even change the trajectory the organisation was going through?
AM: We define Ukraїner as a community and organisation because we are an NGO, but at the same time, we unite many people; we have had around 700 volunteers since the start. Ukraїner started in 2016 when Bohdan Logvynenko, a Ukrainian journalist and traveller, decided to go on an expedition around Ukraine. Before that, he lived in different countries, including Indonesia, where he travelled around from island to island. He was meeting people, talking to them, and they never even heard about what was happening on the island next to them. The same problem was in Ukraine, people did not know who they were. I believe that Ukraїner made a significant contribution to Ukrainians understanding where they are coming from and fighting this idea of being a ‘small’ country or nation.
Prior to the full-scale war, Ukraїner continuously went on expeditions around Ukraine, including to the smallest and most remote villages, exploring what was happening there. My favourite story is about the painter and sculptor Valerii from a little village not far from Poltava, who was building sculptures in his backyard. He was trying to make this one painting about Greece. He was 79 but had never been abroad; he never left Ukraine because he could not. He grew up in the Soviet Union with its Iron Curtain. In the 90s, no one had money, after that no one would ever give him a visa to go to Europe. Only in 2017 was Ukraine given visa-free entry to the Schengen zone—the same year the Ukraїner team met Valerii. So, Bohdan and others decided to take him to Greece and started a fundraiser that was completed in a few hours. That’s how Valerii went to Greece and we made a movie out of it called Cupressus, which we are now offering for different film festivals.
Before the full-scale invasion, Ukraїner was about finding the stories of people or some specific industries, little farms, people preserving nature, doing something for the region, their village, something for the whole country. The scale could be different. First of all, it was about exploring who we are.[6]
For me, one of Ukraїner’s most essential projects was the research on the indigenous people and national minorities of Ukraine, which we call national communities.[7] It culminated in a series of documentaries, written stories, and even a book called Who We Are. It was the first time someone explored those stories with such deep commitment to documenting and preserving the traditions of various national communities across different regions of Ukraine and defining the idea of the indigenous nations of Ukraine, which are Crimean Tatars, Karaites, and Krymchaks. They all come from Crimea. After a few years of Ukraїner doing this project, Ukraine adopted a law protecting the indigenous nations of Ukraine.
We also made comprehensive investigative documentaries about the Holodomor and translated them into several languages. Ukrainian organisations worldwide use them to explain the Holodomor. While talking to older adults and understanding what they have been through and how they survived the Holodomor, we found some new evidence that had never been discovered before.[8]
I would say Ukraїner has never been about beauty in the sense of a perfect picture. It was the beauty of everyday life. Something that surrounds us. I think it is just fascinating. There is nothing directed in these stories; you cannot prewrite the script. These people are doing something crazy.
Since the full-scale war, many things we documented in our videos and photos no longer exist. Many have been destroyed in the Tavria region and near Kharkiv. We do not have access to Mariupol, no one does, so we can’t know for sure what’s left. But Ukraїner made stories in Mariupol and Nova Kakhovka before, documenting what might have been lost because of the Russian full-scale invasion. This is very important. And I believe that no one did such a thorough exploration of these specific places. Even if we cannot rebuild them the way they were, at least we have memories documented. There are people who protected these places, some put their lives on it.
One of the examples is the Polina Raiko Museum in Kherson, which was flooded because of the terrorist attack on the Kakhovka Dam.[9] We do not know how it will unfold or what we will be able to restore, but this is where it has changed since the beginning of the full-scale war. Before, we were showing the reality of Ukrainians. Ukraїner did not change its values and we still show the reality. It is the reality that changed.
Before the full-scale invasion, we visited different parts of Ukraine, made projects about Crimea, and talked to refugees from the east of Ukraine, already occupied at that point. We filmed people who lost their homes to the Russian occupation and told stories of what they lost.
Now, unfortunately, the occupied territory is much, much bigger. Our expeditions have transformed into expeditions to the de-occupied areas.[10] That is how we showcase what Ukrainian society is, how different communities survived the occupation, what is happening there now, and what we can do to become even better after these areas are liberated.
We also explore other topics. We have this great project called ‘Culture during the war’ where we try to cover artistic reactions to the war, challenges culture faces in wartime, how artists reconsider this war, and how they transform it into art. We document how many artists stopped creating art, joined the military, and started volunteering. We are documenting stories that show different sides of life during war.
With our partners, we produced documentaries about rural Ukrainian architecture, which was also an exploration of our roots, how we used to do it before the Soviets came and before they enforced a weird understanding of how Ukrainians should live.
We pay a lot of attention to regions. We tried to explain how each region was formed due to some additional mixing of ethnic and political influences, natural and geographical differences. During the full-scale war, we published one of our biggest documentary series about Christmas and Malanka,[11] the winter tradition in Ukraine, which was filmed before the full-scale war. Still, we believe it is more relevant than ever to explain to people that this is our tradition, not something we were convinced of. We have a very long history of mythology and storytelling, and all of these transform into performances during the winter holiday.
We are still trying to have this balance between different angles of Ukrainian culture. We are also doing a documentary series about our military units with a long history. We do talk a lot about war. But we always talk about it from the perspective of values and how these all help us understand who we are, and where all of this is coming from.
We used to be ‘slow media’. Now, we are faster because there are too many events happening. Also, our team has grown a lot since the beginning of the full-scale war. We have more language versions because speaking about Ukraine to different countries has become more important. Now, we have 12 active language versions, and we want to grow even more. Our department Ukraїner International is responsible for language versions and global presence.
One last thing: we became a publishing house. We are working on this more precisely—we publish our books and help Ukrainian authors to publish theirs. This is also a way to keep the freedom and to do it the way we want by having financial freedom.
CJLPA: What safety precautions would you have to take on expeditions to occupied areas? The Russians would not be happy to see people filming. How did it differ from before the war going into areas not under the Russian occupation, for example, in Crimea in 2014?
AM: No one can go to occupied areas, there is no access. We go only to the de-occupied. We usually try to get there as fast as possible after the place is liberated. Last year (2022—ed.), for example, Bucha, Irpin, or Izium and Balakliia in the Kharkiv region—all of these places, it was one story, we talked a lot to the civilians and their resistance. When Kherson was liberated, it was similar.
But this year (2023—ed.), we see a completely different story in the liberated areas. There are no people. There is no one left there. No one knows what happened to these people. It has become much more dangerous now because everything is mined. You cannot be in the de-occupied areas without the military. No one will allow you to go there because it is too dangerous. You cannot access anything without the presence of the army and before they clean the whole area. You can see in our recent videos of the ‘De-occupation’ series when soldiers give recommendations to our team, something like ‘Okay, when I say this, you go in the back of the car; when I say this, you need to move’. It is like that; we must work together to document all of the crimes.
Sometimes, the enemy is very close. For example, Bohdan was with a team were in Kupiansk after the liberation. The Russian army was still on the other side of the city. They could see them on the other side of the river. Also, even though territories are liberated, these areas are under constant Russian shelling and missile attacks. As they are closer to the frontline, more weapons can be used for destruction. It is always dangerous.
At the same time, journalists always go to the front lines. There are specific steps you need to take to protect yourself. It is essential to collaborate with people who can protect you while you are doing your job. That is why we are always in contact with the army, with soldiers, because they are the only ones who can protect us and tell us where we can go and where we cannot. Also, they are the heroes of our stories.
CJLPA: How did the decision to embark on these expeditions despite the challenges and safety risks come about?
AM: I do not know how to explain this. When you are a journalist in Ukraine, are you prepared for it? I do not know. Even if you ask yourself many questions about whether you should go there. For example, I have lived abroad for a while now. My husband is from Corsica, and we found ourselves living in Southeast Asia. So, for me, it is a different story, I have no right to speak on behalf of people who constantly go to the frontline.
People often think that if you are not in Ukraine, you are just scared. But to be honest, when you are in Ukraine, you feel much more protected. It is a weird feeling. You think, ‘okay, I will figure it out, I am not alone’. I am trying to be conscious about my choices and do as much as I can, having global experience and being able to talk about Ukraine to the world.
The idea to film the process of de-occupation appeared just one day when Bohdan was talking to one of our producers—Karina Piliugina. They decided to go to the liberated areas, and they did.
A similar story happened when Ukraїner started, as it was an initiative of several people. After, it transformed and grew, receiving much attention and excellent feedback. Now, our stories have even greater importance as we also help document war crimes, keeping them in archives because a lot of things we cannot expose now. Filming and watching ‘de-occupation’ helps you comprehend what actually happened there and it completely changes your perception of many things, of the reality of Ukraine. I also believe that the idea ingrained in ‘de-occupation’ is a philosophical concept. What does de-occupation mean? You need to de-occupy not just your territory, a lot of things need to be liberated from Russian influence. What does it mean to rebuild the cities? What does it mean to bring back people who left? What does it all mean? Finding these answers is also part of our stories.
CJLPA: How did you bring light to those voices and the experiences of the locals you encountered that you met along the way? How did those stories help to define that term: ‘de-occupation’?
AM: Ukraїner had a vast range of friends and partners around Ukraine and beyond; sometimes it feels like your brain is a big village. Everyone knows each other, even though there are more than 40 million people in the Ukrainian pre-war population. You start to look for someone who knows someone who can find you someone else. It is always like this. You need to put a lot of effort into finding specific stories that are very representative. You could speak to many people. Sometimes, choosing the one that highlights the main issues is challenging. But when you do it, you can build a whole story out of it. Not all people can express themselves. Some people need to be motivated; some need a lot of time just to talk about their experiences and their trauma. I think putting light on specific stories and specific people is one of the main things about Ukraїner, its main advantage.
We are never looking for someone famous specifically. For example, if the mayor led the resistance during the occupation, we would speak to the mayor because he is a person who could give us a lot of information. But if, for example, the mayor left the city, then we do not care about him. Ukrainian civil society is built on the stories of citizens, farmers and villagers who were not afraid to do something crazy to save others or to resist the enemy.
It is not just some fancy people making a change. These people, these villagers who I have some personal stories about as well—for example, the friends of my mum, who were under occupation. One of them was talking to Russian soldiers as if they were children in kindergarten. How do they have the bravery for this? This resistance is what shows the Russians that they will never be able to win because even some random grandma in the village will just tell them to leave. We try to highlight this.
We also try to highlight how Ukrainians unite to resist because it is also vital; how they volunteer to support each other, or how they build some systematic approaches to resistance because this is also a perfect example of how you can survive occupation and what this kind of partisan movements looks like. Many stories that we recorded during the ‘de-occupation’ series are of people who fell victim to Russian war crimes. We give them space, we talk about it in a very accessible manner. It is a bit different than any direct interview, which is also very important, but it is a different approach. They take us to the places where they have been tortured and explain everything that happened there. This always helps us to have people as a central part of every story we make.
CJLPA: With the ongoing war, how have you balanced showcasing Ukraine’s beauty and culture and all of the people of Ukraine whilst also acknowledging the challenges, disruptions, and destruction caused by the war?
AM: I am not saying that we balance it very well. I ask myself these questions all the time, especially working with different language versions. I do understand the need to speak about Ukraine as a whole more. Then, something terrible happens, and you just cannot be silent about it, you need to react.
For me, it is evident that people worldwide are tired. Just telling some stories like we did at the beginning, not just Ukraїner, but in general as Ukraine, works differently now. You always need to find some angles and uncover new stories. Again, we have not yet balanced it that well. We are actively working towards this goal because we aim to showcase not only the impacts of the war but also how Ukrainians navigate through these times—what we do and how we live or resist in our daily lives. We make an effort to do so. Additionally, we are using stories from our archive, collected before the full-scale war, revisiting and repurposing them because their relevance persists. These stories significantly contribute to a deeper understanding of Ukraine. We are making efforts to translate and possibly create different versions of these narratives. I am hopeful that we will soon find the right balance.
CJLPA: Thank you so much for answering our questions. You do incredible work to showcase Ukraine’s culture and people and share its stories.
This interview was conducted by Nour Kachi and Eleanor Taylor. Nour is a Legal Researcher for CJLPA's Special Edition, 'The Human Agenda'. In addition to his role at CJLPA, he is currently working on qualifying as a lawyer in the US and UK. Eleanor is a Legal Researcher and geography graduate from the University of Manchester, currently studying the SQE to pursue a career as a commercial solicitor.
[1] The Revolution of Dignity and Euromaidan took place in Ukraine in February 2014, when deadly clashes between protesters and state forces in the capital, Kyiv, culminated in the ousting of elected President Viktor Yanukovych and a return to the 2004 Constitution of Ukraine. It also led to the outbreak of the Russo-Ukrainian War.
[2] Education in the gymnasium is multidisciplinary, according to the extended program. It is enough to teach one foreign language at school, at least two at the gymnasium, and one from primary school.
[3] Executed Renaissance refers to the spiritual-cultural and literary-artistic generations of the 1920s and 30s in the Ukrainian SSR, which produced artistic works in literature, philosophy, painting, music, theatre, and cinema, and which was mostly destroyed during the Great Terror.
[4] The term Holodomor (death by hunger, in Ukrainian) refers to the starvation of millions of Ukrainians in 1932-3 as a result of Soviet policies. The Holodomor can be seen as the culmination of an assault by the Communist Party and Soviet state on the Ukrainian peasantry, who resisted Soviet policies.
[5] The Zaporozhian Sich was a semi-autonomous Kozak polity modelled after a strict military organisation, a bastion where young Kozaks were trained by old Kozaks, hardened by the many marches and battles they had experienced. Sich was led by the Kish—a community consisting of 38 kurins (a military-administrative unit of several hundred Kozaks), headed by Ottomans.
[6] See ‘Stories about Ukrainians. With English subs’ (YouTube) <https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLb0qKWX9SJ7becFSHjVhgJC6aZcjAEAEb> accessed 10 March 2024.
[7] See ‘National Minorities’ (Ukraїner) <https://www.ukrainer.net/thread-en/national-menshyny-en/> accessed 10 March 2024.
[8] See ‘Holodomor’ (YouTube) <https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLb0qKWX9SJ7Y5HDHXJc0z0619Q7WNXmGh> accessed 10 March 2024.
[9] The destruction of the Kakhovka hydroelectric dam is a war crime and potentially an act of ecocide committed by the occupying forces of the Russian Federation around 2:50am on 6 June 2023, during the Russian invasion of Ukraine. The Kakhovka HPP dam was mined and blown up, which led to its destruction. About 16,000 people are in the disaster zone, and about 80 settlements may be flooded as a result of the terrorist attack.
[10] See ‘De-occupation’ (YouTube) <https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLb0qKWX9SJ7bko_IpWuGkRymdeve3p6RZ> accessed 10 March 2024.
[11] Malanka is a Ukrainian folk holiday celebrated on 13 January, which is New Year's Eve, equivalent to 31 December of the Julian calendar.