The Long War #30
Being a wartime democracy, storming Enerhodar, living in Kherson, drones & bureaucracy
Hi everyone. I wanted this week to talk again about the mood in Ukraine, but focusing on the political system and the difficult question of how can Ukraine function as a wartime democracy. You’ll then find our usual selections of stories—an interview of a Ukrainian paratrooper who took part in a raid on Enerhodar, a piece on life in Kherson’s most dangerous neighborhood, and a look at how bureaucracy is hampering efforts to speed up drone production. Finally, you can check out a story I wrote about life in the villages of the Kharkiv region, where a semblance of normalcy barely hides deep problems and even deeper trauma. Thanks for reading!
KYIV—Back in September, I wrote a piece about the way Ukrainian society changed during the war (you can read it in French, Spanish and Italian, but unfortunately not in English). I noted at the time that, while Volodymyr Zelensky remained the uncontested wartime leader, there were “hints” that politics were making a comeback.
Just two months later, we’re well past hints. The failure of the summer counter-offensive, and the tacit acknowledgment of that failure by Ukraine’s commander-in-chief Valery Zaluzhny, has opened the floodgates. Zelensky against Zaluzhny, elections and Oleksiy Arestovych, budget, and even the language issue: after a long hiatus, it does very much feel like the debates and controversies that made up pre-invasion Ukrainian politics are back. The main difference compared to before February 24 is that the war now acts as a gravitational force around which all discussions revolve.
The Economist just published an excellent read on Volodymyr Zelensky’s troubles and the mood in Kyiv, while Kyiv Independent reporter Francis Farrell wrote a piece and Twitter thread taking a broader look at the issues that Ukraine is now facing.
Ukrainian journalist Pavlo Kazarine pretty much said it all a month ago, however: “Military victories can be an anesthetic for society. Disagreements are obscured, contradictions mitigated. Victory has many parents, and there’s enough space for everyone to stand in its shadow. Things get more difficult when a positional status quo emerges at the front. Society was promised victories—and it is now frustrated. That frustration turns into a fertile ground for witch-hunting […] The less news from the front, the more news from the rear. Each political camp will be tempted to strengthen its position at the expense of a rival.”
One reaction can be to point out that there’s really nothing surprising about this. Ironclad political unity was never going to last forever in the cutthroat world of Ukrainian politics, least of all as the prospect of a quick victory essentially disappeared. Disagreements were always going to resurface, Ukrainian society was always going to grow exhausted and some part of the political establishment was always going to try and exploit this. Similar to the current talks on reforming the mobilization process (which, one officer involved in that process told me, is about “setting up a system that could keep us going for decades if needed”), this is all part of the country’s painful adaptation to a war with no end in sight.
The problem is that, while there has been a lot of discussion about how the Ukrainian military in particular and the Ukrainian State in general should adapt to the prospect of a long war against Russia, little attention has been paid to how the Ukrainian political system— and Ukrainian democracy—should deal with the same issue.
In the past year and a half, Ukraine hasn’t really had time to think about how to be a democracy in wartime. The martial law, and the ban on elections and popular protests that came with it, were overwhelmingly supported by both the political establishment and the population. There were so many much more pressing matters to deal with that nobody really focused on an issue that was, after all, not even an issue—Ukraine’s political class had agreed to stand fully behind Zelensky, leaving the disagreements for “after the victory”.
It seems that during this period, most people inside and outside Ukraine assumed that the sheer scope of the Russian threat would be enough to keep society and the political establishment united for an indefinite amount of time. But the martial law, as well as the informal pact according to which Ukrainian politicians would refrain from criticizing the authorities, were emergency measures. The informal pact might not be entirely dead yet, but it is well on its way out. Martial law is still there, but it will face increased scrutiny as time passes.
These past few days, many Ukrainians —politicians, activists, experts—told me about how Ukraine remains a vibrant society where debates and discussions are the norm. When I asked a Zelensky adviser if, say, an MP or a group of MPs demanding Zelensky’s resignation would be crossing a red line, if it risked dividing the country and thus helping Russia, he handwaved the issue away: it would in theory be dangerous yes, he said, but Ukrainian society is mature enough not to fall into that trap. A political analyst told me about how the recent controversies in fact proved how Ukraine remained a democratic society in wartime. Others pointed out the intensity of the discussion on social networks and the lack of strict censorship in media.
All that is true. But the implied conclusion seems to be that the (very real) strength of Ukraine’s civil society and Ukrainians’ (just as real) attachment for democracy will be enough to handle the huge strain that the war is putting on the country’s political institutions. That’s a risky bet, as the prospect of a long war looms and uncertainty increases.
And there’s no easy answer here. Ukraine has excellent reasons to refrain from organizing elections at the moment. Ukrainian authorities have also shown flexibility by tolerating protests that are, in theory, banned under martial law. What made the martial law necessary obviously hasn’t gone away—and the increasingly common view that the future of the Russo-Ukrainian War might be one of limited fighting over a more or less stable frontline lays on very shaky foundations. But the fact remains that calls to maintain unity aren’t going to cut it anymore, and there doesn’t seem to be a plan B as to how can Ukraine function long-term as a wartime democracy.
Something to read
Associated Press | Intercepted calls from the front lines in Ukraine show a growing number of Russian soldiers want out | November 26
Desperate to go home to bury his brother, the Professor said he got approval from his commander for a 10-day leave. Military police in Russian-controlled territory in Luhansk let him through, he said, and he paid for his own taxi ride home. Once he got back to Russia, however, he was told he didn’t have the right paperwork. Not long after the funeral, the Professor got a message from his commanding officer: “What is happening there? Are you going to come back or stay there?” “I’ll collect the documents, and then we’ll decide everything,” he wrote back. Two hours later, around midnight, his commander responded: “I’m reporting you as AWOL, unauthorized abandonment of the unit. It was nice fighting together.” Now he faces up to 10 years in prison.
Apostrophe (in Ukrainian & Russian) | “We attacked Enerhodar like pirates on ships” | November 15
An interesting interview of a Ukrainian soldier fighting in the Airborne Forces’ 78th regiment, with a rare first-hand account of the failed attempt to take control of the Enerhodar nuclear power plant in a cross-river raid. Ivan Mateyko also discusses the summer counter-offensive, recalling a three-day-long artillery preparation before an assault toward Verbove and the Russian soldiers that still emerged from their dugouts after the strikes. There’s also this line, at the time when Ukrainian authorities are discussing the possibility of demobilizing soldiers engaged in the war since the first day: “Those who came at the beginning had a very high motivation to defend the country. [...] Many of them now want to return home, to their families, to rest.”
Most (in Ukrainian) | Ostriv. How people live in Kherson’s most dangerous district | November 3
A slice of life in the most dangerous neighborhood of Ukraine’s most dangerous city:
"People need to find a way to get rid of their stress in the evening," Natalya explains. Like everywhere in Kherson, alcohol is almost a necessity here. Moonshine is traded in a half-dead market and straight from apartments. Men playing chess in one of the courtyards, rearranging vintage Soviet pieces, drink vodka and beer. They don't want to be photographed. [...] Humanitarian aid, as in other areas of the city, is the main source of life for people. The centers where they deliver packages filled with products and hot food are crowded and noisy. Everyone knows the delivery schedule, what it is being provided and where to stand in line. The volunteers and government officials who deliver the food are essentially responsible for the fact that people are staying in the city. On the other hand, you can’t leave people without any support—some people still live in flats without electricity and gas stoves, making hot meals especially important for them.
Ekonomichna Pravda (in Ukrainian) | Sell me this drone. How bureaucracy slows down the development of new Ukrainian weapons | November 23
I recently asked a representative of one of the biggest organizations supporting the Ukrainian military why military units still relied on volunteers to get drones. The answer was simple: for most brigades, it is much faster and less headache-inducing to go through volunteers rather than the official, bureaucratic circuit. This story explains in much more detail why that is. But while it’s easy to assume that this is only a problem of red tape, corruption remains a major concern and forces authorities to find a delicate balance between speed of processing and lack of safeguards.
Thanks for your writings - always interesting.