[Interview] Ukrainian frontline reporter Diana Bucko: ‘I have learned not only to report on the war, but also to live in it’

Diana Bucko is a frontline reporter who has spent four years documenting events in frontline towns and directly on the front line. Her latest report focused on Dobropillia, which is becoming another main target of the Russian offensive. In the interview, you will also learn: what problems Ukrainian reporters face when covering stories; about professional burnout and the importance of certain skills when working on the front line; why frontline reporting in Ukraine is increasingly becoming a women’s profession; how the frontline has changed over four years of war; the situation in Dobropillia and what tactics the Russian are using. How long have you worked as a frontline reporter? I became a full-time frontline reporter in 2022. Before that, I had visited the ATO zone several times with colleagues (this was the term used in Ukraine for the fighting with Russia in the east of the country between 2014 and 2018 — editor’s note), but only occasionally, as I mainly covered political issues. However, when the full-scale invasion began in 2022, I joined Hromadske, a media outlet with a strong tradition of war reporting. In a sense, all roads led to the front. That was when I began working as a frontline reporter full time. What changes have you noticed in yourself in the fifth year of the war? I think that, over this time, essentially the same things have changed within me as have changed across society as a whole. Looking back, I realise that my inner experience mirrors what is happening at the front. In Ukraine, the front line shapes almost everything. For roughly the first year and a half, there was a certain euphoria. There was always somewhere to rush to. You constantly arrive somewhere, edit a report, rush on, leave again and edit another one. It was an endless cycle. You hurry because the Kharkiv counteroffensive is under way, then the liberation of Kherson, and you have to be everywhere. So you just keep running, running. Then came the 2023 counteroffensive in the Zaporizhzhia direction. I think society gradually realised that it had not been successful. It became clear that the war would last a long time and that nobody knew how it would end. I think I have learned not only to report on this protracted war, but also to live in it. I have gone through different stages that have ultimately given me inner strength. I always knew that this work had to be done and that it was very important. The truth, however, is that there were moments when it was emotionally immensely difficult for me. I have become less emotional. During the first six months of the war, I cried after every report. It was immensely difficult to watch elderly people — grandmothers and grandfathers who could barely walk — having to leave their homes. It is terrible to witness something like that. Do you often meet foreign and Ukrainian colleagues in frontline towns and villages? And is Ukraine short of frontline reporters? A great deal has changed over these four years. I am now working with my fourth cameraman. At our media outlet, we try to work in pairs at the front. In such demanding conditions, you have to learn how to work with one particular partner. But over those four years, I have worked with four cameramen. They either decided to join the army voluntarily or were mobilised. One consequence of mobilisation is that women are increasingly becoming frontline reporters. Compared with 2022, the risks have increased significantly, especially because of drones. For example, we recently published an interesting interview with war photographer Vlada Liberova. In it, she said: “We no longer see any point in going to film mortar crews again. We have already photographed them. It may be a different section of the front, different people, but we have already done many reports like this. There is nothing new in it for the audience any more. What more can we tell them that is new?” This is precisely where we, journalists and war reporters, reach a dead end. On the one hand, the war continues, and when I come to the front, once every two months, I always see something new there. Most recently, I have seen that the front has been literally flooded with ground robotic systems. However, the risks are growing, public interest in the war is declining, and finding an interesting angle is becoming increasingly difficult. And what about foreign colleagues at the front? Do you meet them often? In towns close to the front, yes. For example, in Kramatorsk, where we usually stay overnight before setting off to work. The truth is, however, that Kramatorsk’s residents are already leaving, because drone attacks are making it increasingly dangerous there too. More journalists can now be found in Lozova, which is further from the front. Naturally, there are still more Ukrainian colleagues than foreign ones. However, when we go directly to the front, I hardly meet anyone, because it is not a good idea to move around there in larger groups. Journalists mostly work independently today. Have soldiers’ attitudes towards journalists at the front changed during the war? Did they ever say: “We were expecting a male reporter, and a female reporter arrived”? Very often. And, to be honest, in some way I miss that period of the war. At the time, most units were still not used to the presence of the media. They did not know that journalists could come directly to their trenches. For them, it was a welcome. change, a new encounter, a new conversation. They were confined to one shelter with two or three people 24 hours a day, and then someone new suddenly arrived. They liked asking us about life beyond the front. New faces brought them joy — all the more so when a woman arrived. And what is it like today? Everyone has become more media-savvy. Everyone understands that it is important to present their work and their unit in a good light. But everyone is tired. Even those who have lived through four years of war, served at their positions for a long time and still welcome new faces no longer have the energy to show their joy as they once did. I occasionally hear the question: “Does your boyfriend or husband allow you to be here?” Such sexist remarks are still made, although less often than at the beginning of the war. The army is an archaic structure after all. If you compare your first report with the latest one from Dobropillia, what are the main changes besides the ground robotic systems you have already mentioned? For the first two years, our outlet focused more on human stories. We were interested in what a person had done before the war, whether they had children or wives, whether their family was waiting for them. They told us more sensitive, personal stories. My first report was about internally displaced people, about the evacuation of residents from Pokrovsk. At the time, the first evacuation train was dispatched. Today, my reports focus more on how the front line is changing in individual sectors, as in the case of Dobropillia. I would say that the reports have become more military and technical: who is advancing where, from where the Russians are attacking, where the weak points are on the front, where the Russians are infiltrating, why we are losing towns and why we are unable to stop them. What is the situation in Dobropillia now? We filmed our last report there on 30 May. At the time, we could still reach the city by car. Even at the end of July, it has not been possible to get there even in an armoured vehicle. Soldiers have to cover enormous distances on foot. The Russians are infiltrating the city itself. They have already been spotted there. We know that when this kind of infiltration begins, it is the beginning of the end. That was also the case with Pokrovsk. With these infiltration tactics, it will continue. So we can see that the situation changes significantly within a month. Dobropillia is not yet occupied, but it is a gradual, creeping occupation. The situation is continuing to deteriorate. You have been travelling to the front for four years. Does it happen that a group of soldiers whose positions you visit has remained unchanged throughout that time? It does happen, but very rarely. Most leave their unit. They advance professionally. Some move, for example, to a battalion headquarters. Those who were ordinary soldiers in 2022 are now officers or sergeants. If we met someone earlier and drank coffee together in a shelter, today we drink coffee in towns near the front. They tell us how their unit is doing and also allow us to visit their soldiers who are directly on the line of contact. In strong brigades, there are what you might call core groups — stable teams whose composition does not change. Also, many have been killed. Some have been wounded, while others have found a way to leave the army. But many people remain. And that is a huge problem, because they are very exhausted. So far, however, there is no solution to this. How do you prepare for a trip to the front? After all, logistics and funding have to be arranged. In this respect, I am fortunate to have our newsroom. We have the entire process fairly well organised. For example, we have a driver from a logistics company that our outlet has worked with for many years. I can call him “our driver” because we have travelled together for four years. He is from Mariupol himself. He, too, has a very tragic story behind him. You could say that there is a certain amount of “negotiation” with press officers. I usually tell them that I will be in Kramatorsk for, say, a week. We can agree on a specific day, but it usually changes anyway — plans are cancelled or rescheduled according to the situation at the front, which often changes. I cannot come for just one day and hope that I will produce a report that day. I have to make arrangements with various press officers. But everyone who is interested in working with journalists tries to organise something. In an interview, photojournalist Jan Dobronosov said that he does not wear a bulletproof vest marked PRESS because it automatically makes him a target. Yet your reports show that you always wear one. It varies. In fact, it depends on how far from the front line a person is. However, it is a debatable question, because I have also taken drone courses, for example, and drone pilots say that you may have a PRESS marking, but they cannot see it from above. A pilot sees the marking only once they have already selected the target and are attacking it. With fibre-optic drones, the image quality is better: colours are visible and the picture is much sharper. FPV drones have poorer cameras. Another issue is that, according to international recommendations, journalists should wear blue bulletproof vests, but soldiers ask us not to wear blue vests. Black is not a particularly suitable colour either. I have a black vest now, but it is highly visible. Both green and black stand out immediately. Ideally, it should be sand-coloured or olive. But olive can already make you look like military personnel. The war is changing greatly, and it requires constant adaptation. As recently as two years ago, black bulletproof vests were not such a problem. Now I, too, am thinking about what is best to do. Sometimes I do not wear a PRESS marking either. What else has become a challenge?