A few days ago, the local authorities of Lviv, 50 miles from the border with Poland and a safe haven for hundreds of thousands of internally displaced Ukrainians, ordered dozens of statues to be wrapped in padding to protect them from Russian attacks. Despite being so far untouched by the bombings, the 700,000 inhabitants of this magnificent Unesco world heritage site knew that, at some point, the time would also come for them.
So when last Friday the cities of Lutsk and Ivano-Frankivsk, about 130kmaway, were targeted by Russian forces in one of the military attacks located closest to the west since the beginning of the war, it came as no surprise.
The citizens of Lviv, among the strongest supporters of the country’s separation from the Soviet Union, are well aware that their town – described as the soul of Ukraine and a symbol of Ukrainian nationalism – represents everything the Kremlin despises.
“Every day, the Russians are coming closer and closer,” said Vasyl Dovhan, 28, an attendant at the Nobilis Hotel in Lviv. “We are a bit scared, of course. But we are ready and united, and we will not surrender. We believe in Ukrainian forces and the international community is on our side. The world these days is finally watching the true face of the Russian regime, which will burn in hell for killing our innocent people.’’
One explanation for why Lviv has avoided strikes while neighbouring cities such as Lutsk and Ivano-Frankivsk have been bombed is that the Kremlin left the city’s motorway and railway links open to funnel refugees into Poland, deliberately focusing a massive refugee crisis on Ukraine’s neighbour.
Whatever the reason, life on the streets of Lviv, the heart of the Greek Catholic church in Ukraine (in contrast with the Russian Orthodox Christians) has gone on as usual despite now-daily air raid sirens. Singers continue to perform in the city’s streets and people get up and go to work just like any other day. Nevertheless, the war is still visible here in all of its tragic proportions: thousands of displaced people seeking shelter arrive every day at the railway station from eastern cities being razed to the ground by airstrikes. At least 200,000 internally displaced people currently call Lviv home, stretching the city’s capacity to its limits.
‘’We’re using all our facilities to shelter them,” says the deputy mayor of Lviv, Andriy Moskalenko. ‘’Universities, churches, factories have opened their doors to the displaced. And we’ll continue to do so, because we have an obligation towards them. We will not let them down. At the same time, our resources are not infinite.’’
The newest arrivals are coming from Kyiv and Kharkiv, where the bombings have been going on for days. Compared with the destroyed eastern villages, Lviv remains relatively safe.
‘’I was in Kyiv during the first days of the war, which I mostly spent in a shelter or a hallway, and I no longer respond to air raid sirens,’’ said Tetyana Teren, 35, a journalist and the executive director of PEN Ukraine, the local branch of the free speech and authors’ rights NGO.
Many people in Lviv believe the recent bombings in Lutsk and Ivano-Frankivsk, about two hours away, carry at least two messages. The first is that the Russian advance could rapidly expand westward soon. The second is that no area of Ukraine, Lviv included, is safe.
Since the invasion began, Lviv has rapidly transformed into a garrison town. It is the centre of the country’s nationalist movement and, with its civil airport and military airfield, residents fear it may soon be in Russia’s sights.
“After five days of calm, we have started to hear air raid sirens again,’’ says Moskalenko. “We know that at any moment they could strike us, too. We have seen how the Russians are capable of bombing hospitals, of killing defenceless children and women. We have seen what they have done in Mariupol and we are prepared for different scenarios, including a potential attack on the heart of our city.”
During the advance of Russian troops on Kyiv, foreign embassies have been transferred to Lviv, transforming the city into yet another symbol – that of the diplomatic capital of Ukraine and of the western response.
Founded in the mid-13th century, Lviv was a royal city of the kingdom of Poland and its second-richest city. Its churches, streets and buildings reflect its rich history and culture. The idea that this magnificent town could be razed to the ground by bombs is unbearable for its people, and many remain convinced that Putin would never bomb a city with such an immeasurable artistic and cultural heritage.
The rest consider Lviv at war already, and are making preparations for a Russian attack. At the city gates, teenagers fortify checkpoints with sandbags and volunteers queue to join the military. A metallurgical plant, specialising in copper cables, is producing anti-tank obstacles. University students are sewing camouflage nets for the army.
“Lviv remains the safest place in Ukraine,’’ says Nazar Vdovyhenko, 19, a waiter in a cafe in the city centre. “Since the Russians invaded our country, we have been making preparations for this event for the entire time. We have our territorial defence, we have checkpoints, and finally we have the people’s resistance. And we will fight. We will fight the Russians back.’’
