Why we are losing information war

Author: Efrem Lukatsky

— "Do you know the difference between a police officer and a journalist?" the officer asked, grabbing my shoulder. "The police protect people. You journalists profit from their suffering."

He said this immediately after a missile strike on the Okhmatdyt children's hospital in Kyiv, blocking access to the scene. My colleagues and I were trying to tell the world what had happened.

I had heard things like that before. But this time, in Kyiv, next to a residential building still smoldering after a strike, a police officer hit my colleague's camera. He was obstructing the filming. Obstructing our work.

— "Stay behind the tape!" he shouted.

It feels like the police have launched a war against journalists. They are hiding the strikes. Hiding the destruction. Preventing the world from seeing.

When I worked in Gaza, it was different. After airstrikes, Palestinians sought out the press. People pulled the wounded from under the rubble and carried them toward the cameras.

— "Show this to the world!" they shouted.

It works, and now it is especially evident from the reaction of the world.

In 2022, the war came to our home. At that time, Interior Minister Denys Monastyrskyi understood the most important thing: without the press, we would lose. Without the press, the West would not see Ukraine’s tragedy and there would be no aid.

He did everything to make sure the world learned about Bucha. His people transported us to the hottest spots. We flew on his helicopters to sites of heavy missile strikes in Vinnytsia and Zaporizhzhia.

I remember how Russian propaganda claimed the bodies in Bucha were mannequins. But allowing journalists access shattered those myths. Monastyrskyi defeated the propaganda. Back then, police, rescue workers, and journalists worked together. He would come to us himself and ask:

— "What else do you need to make sure the world sees the truth?"

We talked. We showed. The world heard.

A year later, he was killed. His helicopter crashed. And with it, our information war was shattered.

Now we are losing it.

There is a simple truth: without journalists, there is no event.

In society, a belief is taking root that journalists are vile, that they shove their cameras into human suffering, showing pain too closely. Believe me, I cry when I film it. But if I don’t show it, it means I closed my eyes. It means I hid the truth from the world.

At the world’s top photo contest, the winning image is of a suffering Russian soldier. Russia is pouring millions of dollars into its propaganda machine. More and more often we hear: "It was Ukraine that attacked." And more and more often we hear:

— "No journalists allowed. It's too bloody."

Stay behind the tape and wait until allowed. Clean it up, sweep it away — then you can enter.

It feels as if the police are working against the truth. They seem to like the new message crafted by the Kremlin: that Ukrainian journalists profit from the bloodshed. And instead of helping, they obstruct.

Russian propaganda is very grateful for this.

And then the police will trade their new Western pickups for old Russian "Bukhankas" (Soviet-era UAZ vans nicknamed "Bukhanka" — meaning "loaf" due to their boxy shape - ed.note).

I have covered the work of the police for many years. I know honest officers and generals. Many of them are now at the front.

I want to say this to police leadership: a journalist accredited by the Ministry of Defense often has more experience operating in hotspots than many officers. A journalist with accreditation should be treated like a rescue worker and should be supported in every possible way.

Those responsible for the country’s information policy must urgently change the narratives and take pride in their journalists.

Ninety-one journalists have been killed in this war — nearly as many as rescue workers. But there are far fewer journalists. They are an irreplaceable asset.