Rehumanizing the War in Ukraine with the “Three Names” Cards
By Steve Lemeshko
The recent two-year update on the war in Ukraine, issued by the UN Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights on February 22nd, 2024, tells a horrifying story. The statistics, which likely underestimate the true toll by only accounting for confirmed deaths, reveal a staggering toll: at least 10,582 civilians have lost their lives, while an additional 19,875 have been injured. Among them, 587 innocent children were murdered in this ongoing conflict.
But what do these numbers truly mean to you? What they should represent is far more than mere statistics. These numbers should convey the profound loss experienced by families torn apart—individual tragedies that demand acknowledgment. But how do you explain what these numbers actually mean? Even though there is no definite formula for articulating the horrors of this war, there are examples of how it can be achieved in the independent Russian media. Their aim is to encourage empathy among Russians towards the victims, even if they might be perceived as “enemies” in the context of the conflict.
One such exemplary approach is the work of DOXA Journal—an independent student-led news outlet that won the Student Peace Prize in 2023 for its outstanding work in covering topics related to academia, political persecution, and the Russian invasion of Ukraine. I invite you to read cards from the DOXA’s “Three Names” series, featuring the poignant narratives of Artem, Nastya, and Alisa, who died during the war in Ukraine. Originally published in Russian, these pieces have been translated into English for readers of the Arithmetic of Compassion website.
The "Three Names" series honors the memory of three individuals through personal storytelling. The series is presented in Instagram-style posts tailored to appeal to a younger audience, combatting desensitization and avoiding statistical overload. This method, even if unintentionally, is backed by research, as it reduces psychic numbing—a mental defense mechanism triggered when faced with overwhelming suffering. As we witness the story of a single individual, or in this example, stories of three people, we reclaim our capacity for empathy, transcending the compassion collapse triggered by tragedies of immense magnitude.
To end this story, I want you to leave with a thought experiment: imagine the number 587, not as mere digits, but as children with dreams—Artem, Anastasia, and Alisa—each one senselessly robbed of life, murdered, repeated tragically 587 times over. In embracing this exercise, we might be able to reclaim humanity obscured by statistics.
If you found this article interesting, you may also want to check out the following readings:
To delve deeper into the human toll of the conflict in Ukraine, explore the courageous work of Samuel Totten, a professor risking his life to expose genocide, here.
For a better understanding of the impact of storytelling, explore the discussions on how narratives help shape individual identities, particularly within the context of conflict in Gaza, here or here.