Welcome to Reporting on Ukraine
The graves of fallen soldiers in Lychakiv Cemetery in Lviv, Ukraine, Aug. 11, 2023. (c. Martin Kuz)
Hi, Everyone,
Welcome to Reporting on Ukraine, a spin-off and update of my GoFundMe campaign of the same name. My sincere thanks for checking out the page, and I hope you’ll consider signing up — it’s free. (But! Paid subscriptions are greatly appreciated.)
Let’s start with the obvious question: Why launch a newsletter about Ukraine now?
The primary reason is I’m worried. Entering the third year of Russia’s unprovoked war, much of the West has grown numb to the plight of Ukrainians. Military aid and media coverage have plunged even as the death toll keeps climbing. Given that ominous imbalance — and without, alas, a squadron of F-16s at my disposable to send to Kyiv — I decided to start a Substack.
The natural follow-up question: So you’re spitting into the wind?
That’s one way to look at it. Here’s another: I’ve been a journalist for more than 30 years, and for all the world’s mayhem and cynicism, I still have faith in the written word to move us and deepen our compassion for others. This newsletter is my reaction to — my small crusade against — the long-distance war fatigue settling over the West, including most news outlets. I believe that continuing to write about Ukraine and its people — their loss and anguish, their solidarity and strength — can serve as an antidote to apathy.
That leads to a third question: Why care about Ukraine beyond wishing that its suffering will end?
My answer bridges family and Ukrainian history. My late father, Eugene Kuz, a native of Ukraine, immigrated to the United States in 1955. He grew up in the time of Soviet dictator Josef Stalin, who killed millions of Ukrainians during a genocidal reign that included forced labor camps, mass purges and the state-imposed famine now known as the Holodomor. As he decimated Ukraine’s population, Stalin plundered the country’s abundant natural resources and buried its unique culture and heritage — abetted by the indifference of Western officials and journalists.
Stalin rose to power in 1924. His brutal oppression of Ukraine over the next three decades fanned the flame of independence among its people and motivated tens of thousands of them — including my father — to rise up against the Soviet regime during WWII. One hundred years later, Vladimir Putin stands before the West as Stalin’s spiritual successor, another destroyer unburdened by conscience. As he slaughters Ukrainian civilians and soldiers, he abducts the country’s children, steals its grain and coal and bombs its museums and churches – aided by the decline in Western support and coverage.
So as the past reverberates in the present, and as my father before me, I feel a personal obligation and moral duty to try to help Ukraine, if by different, far less courageous means.
The Ukrainians I have met since Putin began his full-scale invasion on Feb. 24, 2022, understand the fate that awaits them if the West again abandons the country. Their unease arises from what their parents and grandparents endured in the aftermath of WWII. Western leaders and reporters turned away from Europe’s second-largest country and the dream of its people to live free, leaving them to languish behind the Iron Curtain in Stalin’s dystopia.
In that context, to stop covering the war now — as so many news outlets have done — would represent a betrayal of Ukrainians and a forsaking of my father’s memory. Silence enables Putin’s war on Ukraine and, by extension, his dead-eyed campaign to vanquish Western democracy. The stakes might appear invisible from afar. But I believe we ignore his imperialist delusions at our peril.
OK, that’s the gist of the why. If you’ve read this far, thank you very much, and please remember to hydrate.
And now a final question: What will you receive if you subscribe?
This newsletter will build upon my reporting on Ukraine during the past two years. I’ll analyze the news of the moment and explore the historical parallels between Putin’s war and Stalin’s rule of terror, when Russia last sought to erase Ukrainian independence and identity.
I’ll introduce more of the men and women I’ve met in Ukraine and share stories of their quiet resolve in the face of Europe’s largest land war since 1945. I’ll write about my father’s struggle against Russian tyranny, and when I return to his homeland, I’ll bring you into the everyday lives of Ukrainians to show you their radiant, irreducible spirit.
I hope you’ll sign up. Like I mentioned, it’s free, though if you’re inclined to start a monthly or annual paid subscription, I would be deeply grateful for your support. Either way, I offer a solemn vow to respect your attention span and your inbox: Except for rare occasions, a new Reporting on Ukraine will arrive no more than once to twice a week. A second promise: This will be my longest post. I know spare time is scarce.
Even if you don’t subscribe, I hope you’ll drop by now and then. And I would appreciate it immensely if you could share the newsletter on social media and/or email the link to those you know who have an interest in Ukraine — and those who don’t, too. Maybe they’ll come around. Word-of-mouth is essential.
No matter what happens on the battlefield this year and beyond, Ukrainians will not give up the fight for their liberty — a fight that is, at heart, for the democratic ideals that define the West. Let’s not give up on them.
Martin