The Daily Telegraph - Saturday
Kyiv’s young hipsters panic as conscription looms
Colin Freeman
Simon Townsley
Ukraine is lowering the draft age to 25, and members of Generation Z feel unprepared for battle IN THE eyes of Ukraine’s military recruitment officers, the Kyiv district of Podil is perhaps not an obvious spot to find future warriors. The hipster enclave is Ukraine’s answer to Hoxton in London or New York’s Brooklyn, and on a sunny May afternoon, feels about as far from the front line as it is possible to be.
Fashionable young things zip around on e-scooters, manbags abound, and in local bars Generation Z’ers discuss tech start-ups and craft ale.
When battle-hardened veterans in the Donbas grumble that Ukrainian “cafe society” has forgotten about them, Podil is probably where they have in mind. Yet even here, the war is beckoning, after the passing last month of tough new drafting laws designed to plug an urgent shortage of front-line troops. As well as attempting to tackle draft-dodgers, the drafteligible age is to be reduced from 27 to 25, forcing Generation Z into the fight for the first time.
And as 25-year-old Podil denizens like Anton Kravtsov freely admit, they feel woefully unprepared for it.
“I don’t feel like I’m the right kind of person for war, I don’t even like to think about harming animals, let alone other humans,” he told last week while sitting in a Podil square. “I have friends who are fighting and I can see the psychological damage it does to them. But if I have to go, I have to go.”
A former male model, Mr Kravtsov is studying for a post-graduate engineering degree, which means he is not eligible for the draft. But amid signs of Russia gaining the upper hand, many fear that such exemptions may eventually be scrapped, and the draft age reduced yet further.
With the average age of serving soldiers now 43, Kyiv estimates it needs up to 500,000 new troops to give those on the front line a muchneeded rest. Gone, though, are the days when recruitment offices had long queues of eager volunteers. Indeed, many of those now facing the draft are sceptical of the official David-vs-Goliath narrative. Instead, the talk is being fed into an endless meat-grinder conflict, which Ukraine may never win thanks to lukewarm Western support.
“Part of my reason for not wanting to serve is the poor command and the lack of ammunition, but also I don’t want to die for nothing,” said 32-yearold father-of-two “Yevgeny”, drinking at a Podil cafe with two friends.
“It’s a difficult decision. On the one hand I don’t want to spoil my own future, but if I don’t serve, then maybe my kids won’t have a future either.”
The newly passed draft law includes tougher enforcement measures, with draft-dodgers facing penalties including forfeiture of driving licences and the right to buy property.
On top of that, there are already social sanctions: according to Yevgeny, young men not in uniform can attract hostile comments from other Ukrainians.
“Occasionally you get people in cafes or bars asking ‘why aren’t you fighting?’,” he said wearily. “But usually that’s people who aren’t actually doing so themselves. Often, the real serving ‘Often, the real serving soldiers will tell you that it’s a mug’s game, and that you’re right not to bother’
soldiers will tell you that it’s a mug’s game, and that you’re right not to bother.”
In an attempt to make the mobilisation procedure more attractive, draftees can express a preference in advance over which units they join. The logic is that young
Podil tech bros, for example, may be less tempted to dodge the draft if they know they will end up in a drone unit rather than as infantry grunts on the front line.
Podil also has its share of people who have made the ultimate sacrifice. At the Pink Freud cocktail bar, staff were mourning the death of their ex-colleague Ihor Kulka, 28, killed near Avdiivka last month. “He was a vegetarian and a real peacemaker kind of guy, and I would never have thought of him as the kind of guy who’d fight,” said Ilya Shykyta, a 23-year-old bartender, who has Ihor’s photo pinned to a wall. “It was very painful to hear he’d died – there is no pretending that this war isn’t happening.”
Given the stark horrors that may lie ahead for those facing the draft, it was perhaps no surprise that in one Podil square last week were Vlad, 20, and Daniel, 22, drinking heavily before boarding a train to western Ukraine, where they planned to smuggle themselves over the Romanian border.
“It’s either Europe and freedom, or getting sent to war,” said Daniel, sipping a can of strong lager. “I love my country, but I also want a life.”
So too, though, do men like Andrey, an exhausted-looking combat medic who was paying his respects last week at the “Field of Flags” monument in Kyiv’s Independence Square, near Podil. The impromptu memorial has thousands of flags commemorating the lives of those who have perished – including one to Andrey’s comrade, who died two months ago.
“We just don’t have enough people for the army now,” he said, gesturing with a hand that trembled constantly.
“If other Ukrainians don’t join up, then the Russians will just overwhelm us. I am as scared as anyone else who is fighting – but it’s my duty.”
‘It was very painful to hear he’d died – there is no pretending that this war is not happening’