Russia Breaches a City, With Propaganda
LYSYCHANSK, Ukraine — Gesturing to the artillery shell lodged in the ground and a rocket protruding from the wall, Maksym Katerynyn was in a rage. These were Ukrainian munitions, he shouted. And it was Ukrainian artillery that struck his home the day before and killed his mother and stepfather.
“The Russians are not hitting us!” Mr. Katerynyn barked. “Ukraine is shelling us!”
But there were no Russian soldiers for the Ukrainians to shell in the eastern city of Lysychansk, and it was clear that the projectiles had come from the direction of Sievierodonetsk, a neighboring city, much of which has been seized by Russian forces.
The fact that Mr. Katerynyn believed this, and that his neighbors nodded in agreement, was a telling sign: The Russians clearly already had a psychological foothold here.
It was not always like this in Lysychansk, an industrial city with a prewar population of 100,000. Now it is isolated from most of the world, with no cell service, no pension payments and intensifying Russian shelling. But some residents have turned into receptive audiences of Russian propaganda.
They are able to listen over the radio and to watch pro-Russian television channels when generator power allows. Given Lysychansk’s proximity to Russia, those channels appear to have a stronger hold in some neighborhoods than their Ukrainian counterparts do.
“When you’re hit over the head with the same message, you just drown in it,” said Nina Khrushcheva, a professor of international affairs at the New School in New York. “After a while, you don’t know what the truth is. The message takes over your reality.”
The notion that the Ukrainian military is shelling its own people has been a repeated message on pro-Russian disinformation channels since the start of Moscow’s invasion in February. Aside from sowing doubt among Ukrainians about their own government and military, it has been a way for the Kremlin to sidestep accountability when it comes to civilian casualties.
On a recent outing to distribute aid, several police officers were approached by an older woman who they said asked them, “Boys, when are you going to stop shooting at us?”— leaving the officers in disbelief.
Propaganda has been a weapon of war in Ukraine since 2014 when Russia-backed separatists formed two breakaway republics in the Donbas region.
But now, with the war’s front lines shifting as Russia advances into the Donbas, propaganda in cities and towns like Lysychansk has taken on a new intensity and relevance.
“You only need to turn on the radio or your phone to hear the Russian radio broadcast here,” said Sergiy Kozachenko, a police officer from Sievierodonetsk who has relocated to Lysychansk because of the fighting. “They will listen to it; what else could they do?”
For residents to have pro-Russia leanings in this area is not illogical.
Many people have family in Russia, and the cities themselves are near the Russian border and predominantly speak Russian.
They stand in contrast to the millions of Ukrainians in most regions of the country who are outraged by Mr. Putin’s invasion and are angry at civilians in Russia, some of them family members, who are turning a blind eye to the mayhem.
Local authorities in Lysychansk believe that around 30,000 to 40,000
residents remain in the city. In Sievierodonetsk, which had a prewar population of 160,000, around 10,000 people have stayed, the authorities there say, despite the brutal streetto-street fighting that is playing out.
Ukrainian city workers informally call those who have chosen to stay “Zhduny,” or the “waiting ones.”
“Those are the ones who are waiting for Russians there,” Mr. Kozachenko said. “They hug them, and say to them, ‘Our dear ones, we’ve been waiting for you.’ ”
Though some residents might welcome the Russians, many cannot evacuate because they lack the money, because they have older or disabled family members who are not mobile, or simply because they fear they will lose their homes.
Some Lysychansk residents are no longer advocating either side. Instead, they are waiting for the war to end, no matter the victor.
“I don’t remember such a war,” said Mykhailo, a resident who declined to give his last name and had served in the Soviet military decades ago. “We used to fight the enemy, but not the civilian population.”
Messages that erode trust in Ukraine’s government.