The city of Kharkiv lives under the shadow of war, where the constant threat of conscription hangs heavy in the air. Bohdan, a chef in a reputable restaurant, embodies the pervasive anxiety. He navigates the streets with caution, relying on clandestine chat groups with tens of thousands of members who share real-time updates on the movements of recruitment officers, using coded language like ”green olives” for military personnel and ”black olives” for police. This covert communication network serves as a vital lifeline for men trying to avoid being swept up by the ”Tetseka,” the Ukrainian military mobilization authority, and sent to the front lines with minimal training. Bohdan’s initial willingness to fight in 2022 has been replaced by disillusionment and weariness, fueled by witnessing corruption within the military and the grim reality of the escalating death toll. He’s now part of a growing number of men who are actively avoiding conscription, a choice driven by a mix of fear, moral objection, and a loss of faith in the system.
This avoidance takes many forms, from carefully planned routes to work to complete self-imposed house arrest. Mike, a young IT professional, represents the latter. Confined to his childhood bedroom in his parents’ apartment, his world has shrunk to the glow of his computer screen and the occasional clandestine meeting with others in similar circumstances. He describes a life of increasing pallor and physical decline, punctuated by the gnawing fear of being discovered and the shame of inaction. The stories shared by his friend fighting on the front lines reinforce his decision to stay hidden, even as he grapples with the moral implications of his choice. Both Mike and Bohdan confess to feeling a sense of guilt, questioning how they will explain their actions during the war to future generations. But their fear, amplified by the brutal tactics of the Tetseka and the rampant corruption they’ve witnessed, outweighs their sense of duty.
Corruption within the military and government adds another layer of complexity to the issue of conscription. Stories circulate of officials forging disability certificates to avoid service and of men buying their freedom from recruitment officers. Serhij, another Kharkiv resident, shares his experience of being caught at a checkpoint, detained, and then released after paying a substantial bribe. While he expresses no remorse for his actions, blaming the system for its predatory nature, his story highlights the corrosive effect of corruption on both morale and the effectiveness of the mobilization effort. Serhij, like Bohdan and Mike, is now in hiding, his savings depleted, his trust in the system shattered. The very act of buying his way out, he argues, has solidified his refusal to serve in a military he now sees as deeply flawed.
The Ukrainian government is facing a critical shortage of soldiers, a problem exacerbated by war weariness, widespread emigration, and the public’s growing awareness of the high casualty rate. While the country’s allies, particularly the United States, have urged President Zelenskyy to lower the conscription age, he has resisted, understanding the potential for further social unrest. The government’s response has been to tighten mobilization laws, lowering the age limit and requiring all men to register with the military, effectively placing them on constant standby for conscription. This has intensified the fear and desperation among men like Bohdan, Mike, and Serhij, further driving them underground.
The clash between the government’s need for soldiers and the public’s growing resistance is highlighted by an encounter with Maria Mezentseva, a prominent member of parliament from Zelenskyy’s party. While acknowledging the sensitivity of the issue, she emphasizes the existential nature of the war and the sacrifices being made, particularly by the 70,000 women who have volunteered for military service. She implicitly questions the morality of those who avoid conscription, contrasting their actions with the patriotism and bravery of others. This confrontation encapsulates the difficult choices facing Ukrainian society: the need to defend the country against invasion versus the desire to protect individual lives and the growing disillusionment with the system.
The stories of Bohdan, Mike, and Serhij paint a stark picture of life in wartime Kharkiv. They reveal a city gripped by fear, where the threat of conscription looms large and trust in the authorities is eroding. While their individual choices and justifications may vary, they are united by a shared experience of anxiety, moral ambiguity, and the desperate desire to survive in a war that has exacted a heavy toll on their city and their nation. Their stories offer a valuable glimpse into the human cost of the conflict, beyond the battlefield statistics, revealing the complex web of motivations and anxieties driving the choices of ordinary citizens caught in extraordinary circumstances. The question of who is a patriot and who is a coward becomes blurred in a landscape of fear, corruption, and the ever-present threat of death. Their predicament reflects the broader challenges facing Ukraine as it continues to fight for its survival, struggling to balance the need for manpower with the growing war-weariness and disillusionment of its people.
