Three Generations of Ukrainian Women on Soviet Memory, War, Faith, and Independence

By Scott Douglas Jacobsen and Anastasia Bura (Translator, English-Ukrainian)

Liubov Polischuk is a Ukrainian interview participant whose recollections focus on Soviet and post-Soviet life. In the conversation, she discusses scarcity, propaganda, military surroundings, restricted travel, prayer, and Ukrainian independence. Her comments emphasize lived experience across political change, including daily survival, faith, memory, and wartime moral perspective over several decades. Tetiana Shuliaka is a Ukrainian interview participant describing civilian life during Russia’s war against Ukraine. In the conversation, she recounts nightly drone threats, prayer, fear of missile strikes, and the pressures of self-defence. Her remarks connect contemporary danger to longer Soviet patterns of military industry and constrained freedom for civilians. Anastasia Bura is the youngest participant in this group discussion and is the translator (English-Ukrainian) in this interview.

In this intergenerational conversation, three Ukrainian women reflect on war, faith, memory, and national identity across the Soviet and post-Soviet eras. Liubov Polischuk recalls scarcity, propaganda, and the closed world of Soviet life, while Tetiana Shuliaka describes the fear of drones, nightly prayer, and the burden of self-defence in contemporary Ukraine. Anastasia Bura translated for this production for us. Together, they contrast Ukrainian aspirations for freedom, dignity, travel, and development with what they see as Russia’s enduring imperial mentality. The interview explores independence, moral responsibility, survival under bombardment, and the difficult human realities that shape both personal belief and political resistance in wartime across generations of women’s experience.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen: Western media describe a rise of "strongmen": Viktor Orbán, Vladimir Putin, Xi Jinping, Benjamin Netanyahu, Donald Trump, and others, including Narendra Modi in India. Billions of people live under governments led by authoritarian or strongman-style male leaders, with serious consequences. More of these leaders have appeared over time. What is your perspective on this current group of men who hold such control over the world?

Liubov Polischuk: As someone who has lived through many periods, the world has somehow turned upside down. If we remember the leaders of the United States, Russia, Ukraine, and many other countries in the past, the current situation is difficult to understand. I cannot say how or when what is happening now will stop, or who could stop it. Even the most educated people may not be able to give a concrete answer to this question.

Jacobsen: Last summer, I travelled in Europe and the Middle East. I ended the trip with a colleague in Israel and Jordan. At the beginning of the trip, I was in Iceland. When you immerse yourself in the culture, you notice that Iceland's president and prime minister are both women. The head of the Church of Iceland, the national Lutheran church, is also a woman. Several major political parties have been led by women in recent years as well. Yet Iceland does not dominate international headlines.

I do not see women as a magical solution to leadership problems; I see women as human beings. However, women who rise to leadership in their countries often create fewer problems for their societies.

Polischuk: Perhaps because women are mothers first, they feel compassion for their children. If leaders felt the same responsibility for everyone's children, there would be no war. The men who started this war should fight among themselves first, together with their own communities and neighbours, before calling others into conflict. If they did that, large-scale wars would never happen. A saying often attributed to Russian general Alexander Lebed holds that if the children of officials had to go to war, the war would end quickly.

Jacobsen: That observation appears frequently in sociological research. In the modern U.S. volunteer military, recruits have tended to come disproportionately from middle-income neighborhoods rather than the poorest ones. During the Vietnam era, however, deferments often advantaged the better-off and better-connected. Hispanic Americans, Native Americans, African Americans, and poorer white Americans are often overrepresented in military service compared with wealthier populations. There have also been well-known cases during the Vietnam War where sons of wealthy or politically connected families avoided the draft, while others were sent to fight.

Polischuk: Meanwhile, the rest of the world protects its own comfort and stability. The question becomes: what are people fighting for? Ukrainians, however, are fighting for their own land. We do not want anyone else's land. We do not want anything that belongs to someone else. Ukrainians are not fighting to take another country's land. They are fighting only to defend their own homes, property, and territory.

Jacobsen: During the war, Ukraine has rapidly built a major drone industry and expanded its long-range strike capacity.

Tetiana Shuliaka: Yes, that is correct. Ukrainians did not want this war, but they need weapons to defend themselves. Ukrainian forces have even struck military targets inside Russia from distances of up to about two thousand kilometres using long-range drones. We do not want people to die there, but we must defend ourselves. Defence means that someone may sometimes be hit. But we never attack our own homes. At night, they launch drones at very low altitude. When you lie awake and hear them, you think: at least not at me, not at my mother, not at my clinic, not at anyone I know. Every night you lie there hoping it will not come to you. You pray.

Jacobsen: Regarding prayer, I am aware of the region's religious demographics. Poland is historically very Catholic, while Ukraine has a long tradition of Eastern Orthodoxy. Given that background, how do people interpret and practice their faith, including prayer, under bombardment and the constant threat of war? How does the war shape everyday life?

Polischuk: When I was young, even while studying in Kyiv, I used to go to St. Volodymyr's Cathedral before my exams to pray that I would pass and receive my scholarship. Later, my life changed. I moved, married, and lived in different places, including military garrisons where there were no churches. During those years, I became distant from church life. When my husband and I later returned to Kyiv, I slowly resumed praying. I do not follow every religious ritual. I do not perform all the traditional practices. But I feel that God lives in my soul. I believe He is within me. That is why I pray. Especially now, when life is frightening, prayer comes naturally. I believe that God exists and that He will protect me. That belief gives me peace.

Jacobsen: So, the war did not have a large impact on your life?

Shuliaka: The war has changed my life profoundly. Before it began, I simply went to work and lived normally. Now, every day as I leave for work, I pray: “Lord, help me. Send an angel to protect me.” I never know where a rocket might strike—at work, on the street, anywhere. Before the war, I was not very religious. Now I turn to God much more often. I pray for our soldiers, for our people, for Kyiv, and for Ukraine. For many ordinary people like me, faith has grown stronger because we live with the constant awareness that something could happen at any moment.

The war has deepened not only religious feeling, but faith itself. Mila said she was raised in an atheist family, though her grandparents believed in God, and she inherited that belief from them. She believed before the war and still does. She does not attend church every Sunday, but she feels that God lives within her and protects her. Since the war began, that feeling has only grown stronger. At night, people pray and trust God to protect their homes and families.

Before the war, I did not think much about faith. Now, whenever I leave the house, I pray that I will not become the victim of a missile strike, as happened to my friend Oksana Viontymakova, who was killed in the city center. I pray that I, my family, and those close to me remain under the protection of a guardian angel.

Jacobsen: Do you think religion in contemporary Ukraine functions, in some ways, as a reaction to the atheism imposed during the Soviet period?

Polischuk: Yes, it was influenced. During Soviet times, many priests were connected to the Communist system. Some clergy were influenced or controlled by the Soviet authorities, including the KGB. My husband was a military officer, and from his own experience he told her about these connections.

Jacobsen: How did you view the Soviet Union when you were growing up?

Polischuk: I was connected to the military environment when I was young. Life was very limited. We lived in the Far East, and everything was restricted. In many ways, it resembles how people in Russia live now—focused mainly on basic survival: eating, drinking, and having clothes to wear. There was little space for spirituality or self-education. People did not have the opportunity to develop themselves intellectually or spiritually. Society was structured around survival and work. The country was closed, and much of the economy focused on defence industries.

Shuliaka: My mother worked in Komsomolsk-on-Amur at a factory that produced Sukhoi jet aircraft. People worked long shifts there and could earn relatively good wages. Today, many people in those regions of Russia still rely on military factories for employment. Without those factories, there would be little work. Many workers do not think about the broader consequences of producing weapons. They see that they have jobs. In some ways, Russia has remained trapped in that system.

Polischuk: The Soviet Union felt almost like a sect. Propaganda shaped so much of daily life that many people did not fully understand the system they were living in. Most of us simply woke up, went to work, and came home. Life revolved around necessities. I began working very early. Every morning, I rushed to drop my child off at kindergarten and then ran to work. After work, I stood in long lines to buy food and basic goods. It was nothing like today, when you can walk into a store and get what you need right away.

We took part in demonstrations, carried flags, and constantly heard that communism would arrive soon. The leaders repeated it again and again. Some people believed them. My husband, Igor, and I did not. We laughed about it, because the promises never matched the reality of everyday life. You could only really understand that system by living through it. Only now, looking back, do I fully grasp what it was like. At the time, most people accepted it without much question.

People often do not realize how poor they are while they are living through it. The country was closed, and travel outside the Soviet bloc was heavily restricted. Most people spent their lives working and focusing only on basic needs such as food, clothing, and shelter. Personal development and broader opportunities were limited. There were lines everywhere, and even after waiting a long time, you still might not have enough money to buy what you needed. That is why many people doubted the official promise that communism was just around the corner. In remote eastern regions, people sometimes wore traditional felt boots called valenki because proper shoes were so hard to obtain.

Jacobsen: Wool boots?

Anastasia Bura: During the Soviet period, even if you had money, it was difficult to buy things. Goods were scarce, and there were long queues everywhere.

Jacobsen: They look great.

Shuliaka: Do you not have valenki in Canada? Canada is so cold.

Jacobsen: We have moccasins. When I worked on a horse farm, I wore boots similar to the ones I use here. These ones are, in fact, from the barn.

Shuliaka: And people often wore them with galoshes.

Bura: They noted. In Russia today, many people still work in military factories that produce weapons for the state. They often do not think about how those weapons are used or that they may kill people in war. They need employment to support themselves and their families. In that sense, many people still live with limits similar to those in the Soviet period—limited freedoms and limited independence. She believes that, in some ways, the situation in Russia today resembles the restrictions people faced during the Soviet era.

Jacobsen: That is an important point. In Western media and film culture, there can be strong red lines about how Russian soldiers are portrayed. For example, there was a documentary that attempted to present Russian soldiers more humanely—Russians at War (2024), directed by Russian-Canadian Anastasia Trofimova and screened at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF)—and it provoked strong backlash. In that sense, cultural elites in Western media sometimes establish boundaries around how such stories can be told. Yet there may be a way to approach these stories carefully and responsibly.

If you look at history as a series of moments in time, you see Soviet citizens standing in long queues for basic food because they were poor and had few options. Your description of Soviet life—people standing in long lines, uncertain whether they would even obtain food—echoes the present in a different way, where some people build weapons in factories not because they are thinking about war or ideology, but because they are trying to earn a paycheck and feed their families. In that sense, the system's structure matters. Institutions and economic conditions shape people's choices. That does not remove moral responsibility, but it reminds us that systems play a powerful role.

International law clearly distinguishes between an aggressor and a defender, and in the current war, that distinction is clear. However, one common mistake in wartime narratives—especially in the United States—is to frame conflicts entirely as battles between good and evil. That framing makes it easier to dehumanize entire populations, and important realities can be lost. The reality is often more complicated.

When the time comes to hold people accountable for crimes, responsibility is usually placed on those in positions of authority: the political leadership, military commanders, and bureaucratic decision-makers who had the power, knowledge, and foresight to shape events. A factory worker may contribute to a system that produces weapons, but that person often operates within a coercive environment with limited choices. The point is to understand these situations in human terms rather than turning them into something like a holy war. In some ways, your experiences suggest that the current production of weapons for this war reflects patterns that existed earlier in the Soviet period.

Polischuk: It continues the suffering of ordinary people, just as it did during the Soviet Union. In the Soviet Union, much of the economy was directed toward military production. Civilian industries were far less developed. Many people worked for industries connected to the military. The Soviet Union produced large amounts of war-related equipment.

Jacobsen: There is a great deal of historical context around that system. It is like a web of experiences and ideology that shaped how people lived.

One major change since the Soviet collapse is the transformation of the political system and the emergence of new institutions. At the same time, some forms of suffering and abuse of power still appear. If you examine international indicators—for example, the Reporters Without Borders Global Press Freedom Index—you can see some divergence in recent years. In RSF’s World Press Freedom Index, Ukraine ranked 106th in 2022, 61st in 2024, and 62nd in 2025. Russia ranked 155th in 2022, 162nd in 2024, and 171st in 2025. These numbers suggest that although both countries share a historical legacy, they have moved in different directions politically and institutionally. Neither situation is perfect, but the direction of change is an important part of the story.

Polischuk: We can clearly see that there are two different ideologies and two different paths. In Russia, the government changed after the Soviet Union collapsed, but in many ways the system remained the same.

Russians often say that Ukrainians and Russians are “one people,” but Ukrainians believe they have different values. Ukrainians see themselves as peaceful and hardworking people who want to travel, learn about the world, and decide for themselves what is right and wrong. She believes that Russians often carry an imperial attitude. When they travel abroad, they sometimes behave as though they represent a great imperial power rather than as guests who should respect the culture and customs of the countries they visit. She gave examples of Russian tourists in places such as Turkey or the United Arab Emirates, where some behave loudly or disrespectfully while insisting on national pride.

She asks why the international community, including the United Nations and leaders worldwide, cannot stop this war. Ukrainian civilians—women and men alike—are being killed by drones and missiles. Ukraine has been forced to place its economy on a wartime footing. She asks why a peaceful country must invest so heavily in military defence to survive. Ukraine did not choose this path; it was forced upon it. Many Ukrainian cities have been bombed and destroyed. She emphasizes that Ukrainians do not have imperial ambitions. They do not seek to conquer other countries, but they must now invest heavily in defence to protect themselves.

Russian influence often brings destruction rather than development. When Russia expands or intervenes abroad, she believes it leaves devastation in its wake. Cities are destroyed, and societies suffer. Ukrainians see themselves differently: as a nation that wants development, travel, and learning from other cultures. She says that Russian behaviour abroad often reflects arrogance rather than respect for other cultures. Ukrainians, by contrast, want to travel, see how others live, and adopt useful experiences for their own society. She asks whether there is any historical example of the arrival of the so-called “Russian world” leaving people grateful afterward.

Shuliaka: Their version of “tradition” often looks like drinking, loud behaviour, and leaving garbage everywhere. They behave rudely and try to dominate wherever they go. I ask whether Russia has ever invaded any country and later left people happy about the experience. In my view, the answer is no. I compare this with historical empires such as Britain, which—despite the violence and exploitation of colonialism—sometimes left behind institutions such as schools or administrative systems. In my view, Russian expansion tends to bring destruction instead. Cities are damaged or destroyed. We Ukrainians see ourselves differently: as a nation seeking development and learning from the wider world. But when Russians arrive in other countries, I believe they often emphasize imperial pride and show little respect for local cultures.

Jacobsen: When the Soviet Union formally collapsed, and Ukraine voted for independence in 1991, Ukraine began a separate political path as an independent state. When the Soviet Union collapsed and Ukraine voted for independence, was there a feeling that the country had fallen backward, or was there a sense of optimism about independence and the future?

Polischuk: There was optimism. We believed life would be better without Russia. People had wanted independence for a long time. It felt like a patriotic moment, and we hoped for a brighter future. We strongly wanted independence and believed that separating from Russia would allow us to develop more freely.

Shuliaka: After the Soviet Union dissolved in 1991, the Belavezha Accords were signed by the leaders of Russia, Ukraine, and Belarus—Boris Yeltsin, Leonid Kravchuk, and Stanislav Shushkevich. During that period, President Kravchuk presented the results of the Ukrainian independence referendum, in which about 92 percent of Ukrainians voted in favour of independence from the Soviet Union. We chose to develop separately from Russia. From that moment onward, I believe Russia increasingly resented Ukraine’s independent path. In my view, many Russians reacted negatively because Ukraine chose its own direction and no longer wanted to remain under Moscow’s influence.

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