Yurii Markevych on Wartime Lviv: Youth Journalism, Language Tensions, and Civilian Stories

Author(s): Scott Douglas Jacobsen

Publication (Outlet/Website): The Good Men Project

Publication Date (yyyy/mm/dd): 2026/01/25

Yurii Markevych is an 18-year-old Ukrainian journalism student at Ivan Franko National University of Lviv. He entered the Faculty of Journalism in 2024 and treats reporting as both a profession and a hobby. He covers how war-driven displacement changes Lviv’s language landscape, civic culture, and daily mental strain. In summer 2025, he volunteered and interned at the Lviv City Council’s European Youth Capital office, supporting youth teams and international forums, including handling translation logistics for guests. He interviews displaced entrepreneurs and argues that casualty reporting should include civilian stories, not only numbers. He is in Lviv and hopes to document Ukraine’s future with clarity.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen speaks with Yurii Markevych, an 18-year-old journalism student in Lviv, about reporting during Russia’s full-scale invasion. Markevych describes choosing journalism as a childhood dream that became urgent after February 2022. He argues that displacement has altered Lviv’s linguistic atmosphere, creating tension when Ukrainian citizens use Russian in public life and schools. He reflects on youth forced into early adulthood by curfews, loss, and peers killed in war. He also discusses volunteering for European Youth Capital 2025, Lviv’s EU-facing ties, street art, and the need to tell civilian stories beyond statistics. He urges editors to fund portraits.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen: You went to school at Ivan Franko National University of Lviv. What initially got you interested in journalism, storytelling, and radio?

Yurii Markevych: I wanted to become a journalist about two years before Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine (which began on 24 February 2022). It was a childhood dream—something I thought I could become—but it was not just a goal; it was my dream.

When I entered high school, it became a concrete goal. In 2024, I entered university and am now studying in the Faculty of Journalism. I am a sophomore, and journalism has become not only my profession but also a hobby.

Jacobsen: About Lviv, it is a central hub for people displaced by the war. How does that reality shape the type of coverage you do daily?

Markevych: In my experience, Lviv used to be overwhelmingly Ukrainian-speaking. Now, I more frequently encounter people speaking Russian than I did before the full-scale invasion, which I associate with large-scale displacement into the city. This has irritated me, because I was used to being surrounded almost exclusively by Ukrainian speakers.

Now, you can walk through Lviv and encounter Ukrainian citizens speaking Russian. I do not understand this, but it is the reality. People should know that it is not normal to talk Russian in Lviv or in other Ukrainian cities.

Jacobsen: Does that affect the reporting you do? Does it shape the narratives you tell or your sensitivity to language differences? Does the increased amount of Russian spoken in Lviv change the culture, and does it affect your reporting?

Markevych: Not entirely, but in some ways, yes. For example, I see more businesses in Lviv where people speak Russian. In offices, they may talk Ukrainian, but when they meet others who speak Russian, they switch languages without hesitation because they feel fluent.

For me, this is not normal. When I interview someone, I expect them to speak Ukrainian. If they switch to Russian, I interrupt them—not because of formal rules, but because of my internal principles. This is about my personal values, not convenience.

Jacobsen: That is fair. What are the major themes in the Lviv story, broadly speaking, during the war? Themes related to culture and daily life in Lviv during the war. Each city experiences the war differently. A frontline city like Kharkiv has a different experience and tells various stories than Western Ukraine or Lviv.

Markevych: Lviv has always been strongly associated with culture. It was known as a cultural center, and it still is. At the same time, it has become a significant hub for displaced people. In my experience, many people from occupied territories and large cities pass through Lviv. Some stay temporarily before continuing to other countries; others return to Ukraine after months abroad and settle in Lviv, renting apartments and starting new lives here.

This has affected the mental well-being of people who lived in Lviv before the full-scale invasion and those who live here now. Lviv is no longer the same city it was before the invasion.

Many teachers came from the occupied territories. For many of them, Russian was their first language. Now they are required to speak Ukrainian, which is difficult for them, but they must do it. In schools, they speak Ukrainian during lessons, but during breaks they often switch back to Russian. For me, this is not normal because it influences children and students. Over time, distinguishing cultural boundaries becomes more difficult, creating confusion and tension.

Jacobsen: What do you think has been your most impactful story? What story needs to be told more, but has not been told enough?

Markevych: I have several stories, especially about my peers. I am an 18-year-old Ukrainian journalist. Recently, I met two French men—one was 29, the other 24—and we were talking in a café. They asked my age, and when I said I was 18, one of them told me that his younger brothers are not like my peers or me. He said that in France, people who are 18, 19, or even 20 are still treated as children.

In Ukraine, it is different. My peers, my classmates, and my colleagues had to grow up much earlier because of the war. We were forced to become adults sooner than we should have.

Another story involves a friend of mine whose family lives in Ireland. When she was there during the summer, she told me that in Ireland—as in many other countries—you can walk outside at night, order pizza late, and live freely during your twenties. In Ukraine, we cannot do that. We cannot walk at night or order food late because of curfews and security restrictions.

We are losing our best years. We have to learn how to live with this reality without losing ourselves, but many people stop caring. I care. I want to learn how to avoid losing my best years entirely.

There is also one more story. When I was preparing to enter university, I looked at the curriculum and noticed a professor with the same surname as mine. It would be interesting to meet him. When I entered university in September, I asked about him, and I was told that he was serving in the army and might be released soon.

A few weeks later, we received a message that he had been killed. I did get to know him—but only at his funeral. It is a sad story, but it reflects the reality we are living in.

Jacobsen: How is youth civic culture in the city now? Lviv was named European Youth Capital for 2025.

Markevych: That is an important topic for me. I was a volunteer during the summer of 2025, working with the European Youth Capital office, and an intern at the Lviv City Council at HR-office. I volunteered several times, and the experience was very positive.

The team included many young people, mostly aged 18 to 30, rather than only older staff. They actively supported volunteers and organized their own events. Through this work, it was possible to participate at an international level and help organize international events.

For example, I volunteered at an international forum in June—the Unbroken Justice Forum. There were international guests, including Philippe Sands, as well as participants from many countries. My role was practical: helping attendees by giving them wristbands and headphones for simultaneous translation, so people who did not understand English or Ukrainian could follow the discussions.

At that forum, I met a foreign attendee—possibly French or Canadian—who spoke Ukrainian very well. That surprised me. I had rarely heard a foreigner speak Ukrainian at such a high level. It created a striking contrast for me: some Ukrainians still choose to talk Russian, while this foreigner, who spoke French and English, had learned Ukrainian and used it confidently. I found that meaningful and challenging to understand at the same time.

Jacobsen: I have heard from people more knowledgeable than I am that Lviv functions as a significant hub of integration between Ukraine and the European Union—through grants, training programs, infrastructure, and cultural exchange. Is that generally accurate?

Markevych: Yes, that is generally correct. Lviv has direct rail connections to several European countries, making travel and cooperation easier. Communication with EU countries has also become more integrated, including changes to roaming and calling conditions that reduce barriers between Ukraine and the European Union.

Lviv also has many sister cities, especially in Europe, and collaborates actively with them through cultural, educational, and civic projects. There are partnerships with cities in the United States as well, and in Canada. Overall, Lviv plays a significant role in connecting Ukraine with Europe.

Jacobsen: How is the fashion and arts scene in Lviv, and how are people expressing their emotions about the war through art?

Markevych: I am not deeply involved in the art scene in Lviv, but as far as I know, there is a lot of street art—especially murals and paintings on walls—which often reflect wartime themes.

Regarding fashion, my colleagues frequently cover fashion weeks and related events, but it is not an area I focus on personally at the moment. From a journalism perspective, however, I have interviewed several refugees who worked in the fashion industry.

For example, my most recent published interview was with a Ukrainian refugee originally from Kyiv who moved to the United Kingdom. There, she founded a fashion startup producing Ukrainian-designed clothing. Her brand collaborates internationally, including with partners in Europe, the USA, Australia, Canada and New Zealand. 

Jacobsen: The Center for Civil Liberties’ Oleksandra Matviichuk has emphasized that while tracking casualties, humanitarian aid totals, reconstruction funding, political shifts, and international support are essential, those numbers can obscure human stories. So, a recent call to refocus attention on lived experience. What civilian-level stories in Lviv are often missed in the news cycle, and how could they be told better?

Markevych: A clear example comes from how we report casualties. In news reports, we usually list only names or numbers—one person killed, two people injured—and then move on.

In September 2024, in Lviv, a Russian missile strike killed members of a single family: three girls and one woman. The men in the family survived. One year later, a journalism student from my faculty—now a third-year student—made a documentary about this family and the lives of the women and children who were killed.

That film received significant attention and viewership. It allowed people to understand who these individuals were, not just as numbers or names, but as people with stories. Of course, we cannot tell the story of every victim—there are too many, and we do not have the capacity—but we should tell as many of these stories as we can. That requires initiative and conscious editorial choice.

Jacobsen: Yurii, thank you very much for your time today. It was nice to meet you.

Markevych: Thank you. Take care. Goodbye.

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