“…We have already seen what Ukraine is capable of, and this must not be allowed to exist. Its population is in a state of obsession, and we must ‘cure’ them. First we will liberate them, and then we will ‘cure’ them.” (Alexander Dugin, ideologue of Russian chauvinism, July 7, 2024).
“… We will defeat everyone, kill everyone, rob everyone we need to, and everything will be just as we like it” (Russian “blogger” and “war correspondent” Vladlen Tatarsky, September 30, 2022).
Classic textbooks on resistance movements usually begin with the words: “Let’s imagine that the enemy has captured our country, or a certain city—what happens next?..”
For us, since 2014, such questions no longer exist. After all, the atrocities committed by the occupiers on Ukrainian soil are not fiction, speculation, or a sick fantasy. They are a terrifying reality. The invaders will not let anyone—neither a soldier of the Armed Forces of Ukraine, nor a civic activist, nor a classic “anti-establishment” figure, nor even a “wait-and-see” type—hide on the sidelines.
The Russian occupiers do not know the words “respect,” “dignity,” or “compassion.” If their goal requires killing one person or destroying tens of thousands, they do so without hesitation. It’s just that sometimes this destruction drags on for months and years. And Russian “liberation” mostly means forced deportation from Berdyansk or Mariupol to Nizhny Tagil—and that’s in the best-case scenario.
So what should our people do in the face of inevitable deportation, abuse, or death—fates that await them regardless of whether they are active or passive? The answer is obvious, because the occupiers leave us no alternative: we must resist.
Without haste, recklessness, or unjustified risk. Because the resistance movement is not just about surviving under temporary occupation. We resist to win, to drive out the enemy, and to build our safe, modern, and strong shared home.
But what about the thought: “I’m not an underground fighter, and I’m not James Bond, so how can I stand up to the relentless FSB agents? What can I—a mechanic, bartender, teacher, or dentist—possibly do?”
At the very least—forget the “Hollywood” and “Soviet film” clichés about World War II or the Cold War. After all, the Ukrainian Resistance Movement is a modern, effective, tech-savvy community where there is a task within everyone’s capabilities, and where the highest value is the safety of our brothers and sisters.
There is a distinctive feature of the resistance movement: we deliver devastating blows to the occupiers, but we operate “in the shadows.” And in most cases, our underground operative in Energodar or Luhansk, carrying out reconnaissance missions, has no idea that his neighbor—an apolitical, quiet cable network engineer—is the head of the resistance movement’s cyber unit. And a taxi driver he knows is in charge of logistics for the underground support network. We are invisible. We may not know about each other. But there are many of us. We are everywhere.
Let’s not delude ourselves: the enemy is treacherous and cruel, but not all-powerful. The occupation of our cities and villages is draining enormous resources from the Russians, and even in their “own” rear, they do not feel safe. The Ukrainian underground gathers up-to-date intelligence, guides our missiles and drones to enemy targets, and conducts cyberattacks and psychological operations. The stronger and more effective the resistance movement’s strikes are, the faster the occupiers will leave our land. Or they will remain here forever.
Let us remember: the occupation will not last forever, but freedom does not fall from the sky. Throughout Ukraine’s history, there have been many attempts to seize our land, yet our ancestors did not wait for liberation—they brought it closer. Now it is our destiny to do the same.
“Unam in armis salutem” (our only salvation lies in arms)—so said the ancient Romans. We say: our salvation lies only in the struggle.
