Frontline Perceptions and Civilian Distance in Ukraine’s War

Author(s): Scott Douglas Jacobsen

Publication (Outlet/Website): The Good Men Project

Publication Date (yyyy/mm/dd): 2026/03/21

Andrii Kovalenko is a Ukrainian local producer and the executive director of Academy of Ukrainian Press who supports international correspondents reporting on Russia’s war against Ukraine. Working closely with foreign media crews since the first days of the 2022 full-scale invasion, he has helped journalists navigate dangerous frontline regions, including Kyiv, Bucha, Irpin, and the wider Kyiv and Zhytomyr areas. His work includes logistical coordination, translation, and field production under combat conditions. Kovalenko has witnessed the aftermath of Russian occupation and the humanitarian consequences of the war. For his safety while working with international reporters, he has been equipped with protective gear and a drone detection device.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen speaks with Andrii Kovalenko, a Ukrainian local producer and executive director of the Academy of Ukrainian Press, about the social divide emerging during Russia’s war against Ukraine. Kovalenko explains that soldiers often maintain stronger morale because they see their struggle as existential—defending families, homes, and national survival. Civilians, meanwhile, attempt to preserve fragments of normal life despite air raids and infrastructure attacks. The conversation also examines wartime fatigue, corruption concerns, and declining international media presence. Kovalenko further reflects on the risks faced by journalists and fixers in frontline reporting, emphasizing that some stories carry dangers that no professional responsibility should justify.

Andrii Kovalenko is a colleague and expert associated with the National Union of Journalists of Ukraine and the Journalists’ Solidarity Centers. The Journalists’ Solidarity Center of the National Union of Journalists of Ukraine is a vital wartime hub helping Ukrainian and international reporters stay safe, connected, and operational through frontline danger, blackouts, displacement, and daily pressure on independent media.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen: For many women serving on the front line in the Ukrainian Armed Forces, one striking observation from conversations I have had—some on the record and some off—is the idea that morale on the front line can be higher than among the civilian population. That seems counterintuitive. In your experience speaking with soldiers and officers, what might explain this? How do you interpret the general sensibility?

Andrii Kovalenko: Unfortunately, there is now a significant divide between people directly involved in the war and those living as civilians in Ukraine, even under the risk of shelling and air attacks. Many civilians try to maintain ordinary routines—working, earning money, going to restaurants in large cities such as Kyiv and even Kharkiv—and some begin to feel the war does not touch them in a direct, daily way. Meanwhile, soldiers continue to face the constant possibility of death or the loss of brothers- and sisters-in-arms.

For families with soldiers—fathers, brothers, and husbands—serving in the army, it is also their war. They are involved emotionally and through constant support. Although they are not on the front line, their lives are shaped by the war. The same is true for volunteers who are deeply involved in supporting the war effort.

Morale can differ for that reason. Even though the war has continued since 2014, and the full-scale invasion began in February 2022, people involved in the fighting understand that there is no alternative but resistance. They feel that behind them are their families, their relatives, and their homes.

Winters have been especially difficult. Russian strikes have repeatedly targeted Ukraine’s critical infrastructure, including energy systems, leaving many people at times without electricity and heating in cities and towns across the country. When I speak with soldiers in trenches or dugouts, they tell me about their families in Kyiv: a child getting sick because the apartment is cold, a wife sitting without power. The soldier understands he cannot go to help, because he has to remain at his position.

When soldiers hear about political scandals or corruption allegations at home, some ask, “Andrey, what is happening in this country? How can this be? What are we fighting for?”

Despite that frustration, there is strong support among brothers-in-arms. They support one another and try to maintain morale. They understand that their responsibility as soldiers is to stop the enemy, because their families and communities depend on them.

This is the major difference in Ukraine today between people who can still live something close to a normal life and those who are required to risk the most valuable thing they have—their lives.

Jacobsen: What do we know from interviews with civilians who have family members on the front line compared with those who do not? Some people have a daughter serving, others a father. What differences do we see between those groups?

You mentioned people “living their best life,” which is a phrase more common in North America—perhaps something you might hear in Los Angeles or New York. It is often used in a flippant way, suggesting someone is oblivious to reality. The implication is that the war feels less immediate for them because they do not have someone they love who has died, might die, or could return home seriously wounded—perhaps without an arm or with another life-altering injury.

Do we have journalistic narratives or formal research studies examining these different populations? I am very interested in the social and psychological aspects of that distinction.

Kovalenko: Yes. Of course, we have this kind of research in Ukraine. I believe the Institute of Sociology has conducted studies on this topic. If I find the specific research, I will send it to you. It is quite interesting.

However, we face several major problems in our country. The two biggest are the war itself and corruption. As in many other countries, there are also people who, for different reasons, do not want to serve in the army. Some are afraid, some do not want to fight, and some believe it is no longer their war.

Another issue is that after years of war—since the conflict began in 2014, and especially after the full-scale invasion in 2022—many people are exhausted. Some have become accustomed to the situation. Even some soldiers become deeply tired, and there are cases where people try to leave military service. This is not unique to Ukraine; similar things have happened in other wars.

History shows this pattern. Even in London during the Second World War, when Nazi Germany bombed the city and attempted to destroy infrastructure and cut electricity, people still had to continue living their lives.

In Ukraine today, many people feel that life is on pause. Russia forced us to change our lives, and we cannot live under normal conditions. Still, people try to create the best possible life for their children and their families despite the circumstances.

The real picture of Ukrainian society will become clearer during elections. However, elections can only take place after martial law ends or when the war is over. It would not be normal to change the president and government during wartime.

Jacobsen: Yes, the demand for a full democratic election in Ukraine during wartime and under martial law raises obvious questions. If foreign actors insist on that standard for Ukraine, then logically the same expectation should apply elsewhere—for example, that the Russian Federation should also hold a fully democratic and free election.

What else can we add on this topic? What about journalists? My understanding is that since 2022 there are fewer foreign journalists here, and those who do come often stay for shorter periods. I do not know whether that reflects morale, shifting assignments, or simply declining international attention to the war.

What is your sense of the situation regarding international journalists?

Kovalenko: Of course, the start of other conflicts in the world has had a major impact. There was the escalation involving Israel, and now tensions between Israel and Iran as well. These developments affect global attention. Ukraine has been in the news for a long time, and for many people around the world the war has become something distant. They become used to hearing about Ukraine, and because it is far away for them, their attention shifts to other crises.

The role of international journalists is to keep this topic visible. In 2022, when the full-scale invasion began, thousands of journalists came to Ukraine. Now the situation is different. Coverage often increases only when there are major developments on the battlefield—when cities are liberated, territories are occupied, or large corruption scandals emerge.

Compared with the beginning of the invasion, the number of journalists here is much lower. In the early months, reporters could stay for long periods and cover events day by day. Now only the largest media organizations with substantial budgets can maintain a permanent presence and report consistently from the ground, including from the front line rather than remaining only in Kyiv.

Examples include major outlets such as CNN, BBC, and Sky News, as well as several large European media organizations. Some outlets, such as certain Romanian television channels, come only occasionally—for example, around the anniversary of the invasion on February 24. In contrast, journalists from the Baltic countries, such as Estonia, tend to maintain a constant presence with crews working here regularly. The reason is obvious: they understand that the threat could eventually affect them as well.

Jacobsen: Latvia is a good example. Canada, at least a year or two ago, had around 1,500 troops deployed in the region, and possibly a similar or larger number now. Let us move to another question. In conversations with some Ukrainian colleagues, this issue came up repeatedly. The discussions were sometimes heated, sometimes simply thoughtful exchanges among friends. From those conversations a question emerged: regarding foreign media, what do they get right, what do they get wrong, and what do they miss entirely about Russia’s war of aggression against Ukraine—especially now that the full-scale phase of the war has been ongoing for several years?

Kovalenko: That is an interesting question. Much depends on the experience of the journalist and the nature of the media organization—its editorial approach and its audience.

For example, I rarely work with Italian media, except for certain outlets such as the public broadcasters—RAI television and radio, including programs like TG1, TG2, and TG3. These journalists come to Ukraine quite often. However, it is sometimes surprising to see how strong Russian propaganda can be in Italy. I am not sure why, but it is noticeable. There are many disinformation campaigns online—bots on social media spreading propaganda and misinformation.

Because of that, working with responsible journalists is very important. Ukrainian fixers and local producers often have to work even harder to provide accurate information and context. It can be exhausting.

Another major issue is security. In April 2023, I was working with the Italian public broadcaster TG3 in the Kherson region. There was information circulating that Ukrainian forces were conducting operations near the left bank of the Dnipro River and had established positions there. The editors asked the crew to film a stand-up segment on the bank of the river to illustrate the situation.

I told them this was extremely dangerous. The location was less than a kilometer from Russian positions across the river, and the area was under constant threat from artillery and drones. Reporting from the front line requires careful judgment, because the situation can change very quickly.

Jacobsen: I recall hearing about at least two journalists who were killed in similar circumstances.

Kovalenko: I want to speak about that case. It was not the same crew I mentioned earlier, but another Italian journalist and a Ukrainian fixer. I will tell you the story more directly.

It happened around the same time—actually the day after the incident I described. When the journalists asked me again about filming near the river, I told them it was impossible. They asked twice, saying their editor had given them the assignment. I replied that I did not care about the editor’s instructions. The area was extremely dangerous. If they wanted to go, they could go, but I would not. I also told them that while they were working with me, I did not want anyone to die. I strongly advised against it.

Still, they insisted, so I called the press officer in the Kherson region. He told me we were behaving like idiots, but if we absolutely needed to film there, he gave us a specific location and strict instructions: we would have less than one minute. We had to arrive, film, leave immediately, and move away.

That is what we did. It was in Kherson city, near the river station. We moved very quickly. While I turned the car around, the crew recorded the stand-up shot. Then we immediately left the area. Everything went fine.

But the next day there was terrible news. A Ukrainian fixer, Bogdan Bityk, and an Italian journalist, Corrado Zunino from the newspaper La Repubblica, had gone to the Antonivskyi Bridge area. That location is extremely dangerous. According to the information I received, they were not wearing proper body armor. The fixer also did not have official accreditation.

Later I spoke with the press officer again. He told me they had been stopped two or three times by Ukrainian soldiers and told to turn back. But Antonivka is a village with many small streets. You can bypass checkpoints if you know the roads.

At the bridge itself, Ukrainian forces were not positioned there. It is an exposed, straight approach, and Russian forces across the river can fire directly with machine guns or other weapons. When they moved toward the Antonivskyi Bridge, the risk was enormous.

This is something every journalist must understand: every story carries risk, and not every story is worth that risk.

Jacobsen: Yes.

Kovalenko: Your life is worth more than any story. The price can become too high.

I still do not understand why the journalist from the newspaper went there. I might expect such behavior from inexperienced freelance videographers or photographers chasing dramatic footage, but not from a major newspaper.

The journalist was injured, and the fixer, Bogdan Bityk, was killed. They were shot—whether by a sniper or machine gun fire, I do not know. His body remained there for at least six hours because the area was under constant shelling and could not be reached safely.

This is sometimes the cost of our work. But in this case, it was simply a tragic and unnecessary loss.

Jacobsen: Thank you very much for the opportunity and your time, Andrii.

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