Ukraine: What the State No Longer Does

"Just the word volunteer, and that's all"

A conversation with Igor, a civilian volunteer on Ukraine's front lines.

Igor spent ten years in Finland. He lived there, he worked there. He came back to Ukraine one month before the Russian invasion. By chance, by instinct — he himself is no longer sure. He has stayed ever since.

He did not enlist. He did not flee either. He chose a third path — one the Ukrainian State no longer recognises: he is a civilian volunteer. He repairs vehicles damaged in combat, drives them back to the front lines, and has taught himself tactical medicine "to be able to help someone, or myself".

He pays for his own fuel. He has no legal status, no protection, no financial support.

"I'm a volunteer. Just the word volunteer, and that's all."

A Country Held Together by Bare Hands

Over the course of the conversation, Igor describes what he sees from below. A reality far removed from the stories told in the West.

Only 10 to 15 % of the civilian population, in his view, truly supports the war effort
The State is absent — for civilians and for volunteers alike
Vehicles, drones, tactical medicine: everything flows through donations, soldiers' families, volunteers

On corruption, Igor weighs every word. He knows he is already saying too much.

"If I talk now, I could seriously hurt myself."

Eventually, he lets this sentence slip — and it says everything:

"That money — it's in someone's sofa."

The money missing for the drones. The money missing for the vehicles. The money that, according to Igor, never reaches the men and women dying so that there is still a country to speak of.

His Dead, His Silence

When we ask whether he has lost anyone close to him, Igor answers briefly. Yes. Then he asks to move on to the next question.

We respect his silence. The silence itself is information.

Russia, Europe, and What Comes Next

Igor draws no distinction between Russian soldiers, Russian civilians and the Russian government. To him, the three are one.

"If we don't push them back here, and if we don't turn that great Russia into a very small village, they'll keep going. All across Europe."

On Ukraine's NATO membership, he is pragmatic. He does not believe it would trigger a global conflict. What he reminds us of, above all, is something the West has chosen to forget: Ukraine had nuclear weapons. It gave them up in 1994, in exchange for security guarantees signed — among others — by the United States.

"Those agreements no longer hold today."

"You Get Used to It"

We ask him how the war has affected his mental health, and that of his loved ones. His answer is almost disarmingly calm.

"At first, it was beyond understanding. We only knew war through television. This was not that war. Now, more or less, we've gotten used to it."

He quotes his grandfather:

"Man is an animal that gets used to anything."

To the power cuts. To the interrupted schools. To the air-raid sirens. To the war.

We ask whether there is still, somewhere in Ukraine, a place that is safe. He answers without hesitation:

"No. There can be relatively safe places. Why relatively? Because today, a missile can fall here. Tomorrow, it can fall in the centre of Lviv. There is no 100 % safe place in Ukraine."

The Car Behind Him

At the end of the interview, Igor shows us the vehicle parked behind him. It has come back from Chasiv Yar. It has been shot through.

"Soldiers were inside. They were returning from a mission. They came under fire. The soldiers died. Their brothers in arms recovered the vehicle. The vehicle is here. They are buried."

He thanks us. We thank him.

What Igor Wishes For

Just one thing, said simply, at the very end:

"I wish for peace. For victory. For a peaceful sky."

This interview was recorded as part of the documentary Ukraine, in the Shadow of War, filmed alone, camera in hand, over three months on Ukraine's front lines.

Igor's words have been translated from Ukrainian. Certain passages have been deliberately left out, at his request, for his own safety.