“How do we continue convincing our few remaining allies that journalists’ work is important?”
Last month, I was sitting on stage at the International Journalism Festival in Perugia, Europe’s biggest journalism conference, when I heard this question from an audience member.
The answer came to me fast.
“Point at who is killing journalists,” I suggested.
I then reminded the room about the case of Viktoriia Roshchyna, a Ukrainian journalist killed in Russian captivity. She took a huge risk to go into occupied territories to report about Russian torture chambers there — only to end up in one. In October 2024, her family was told she died in captivity, a month earlier.
Since then, two separate journalistic investigations found that Viktoriia was subjected to torture and abuse. Everything points to the fact that she was killed — whether they murdered her last Septmber, or slowly killed her through months of abuse, torture, and starvation.
She was only 27 years old.
“If Russia, a huge authoritarian country, was so afraid of this small woman that they killed her in prison — all because she was a journalist,” I said, “then journalists must be doing something very important — something that the worst people of this world are really afraid of.”
While I was speaking on that stage, I didn’t yet know that Viktoriia’s body was already in Ukraine. Russia returned it in February, but it was in a condition that made it difficult to identify. The body was missing a number of organs, including the brain, eyes, and trachea, and was initially marked as male. An impressive collaborative investigation by several newsrooms found the details of her imprisonment, and mentioned that the missing organs point to an attempt to hide the fact that she died from asphyxia.
A few people on the Kyiv Independent’s team knew Viktoriia. Some worked with her in other publications, others knew her through friends — Kyiv’s media crowd is relatively tight. I didn’t know her personally but by now, it almost feels like I did — because of how many personal tributes to her I have read.
Viktoriia put herself in mortal danger by going into Russian-occupied territory because she believed that finding out the truth was worth the risk. One of her former colleagues said it was almost like she couldn’t believe that something bad could happen to her because of how enormously important the mission to find out the truth was.
It’s a dark irony that Russia is, in a way, on the same page. Authoritarian regimes recognize the weight of truth, the power of real story — and that’s why, everywhere in the world, they make truth their target number one.
For Russia, it meant killing Viktoriia to discourage others from finding out the truth about its treatment of Ukrainian civilians in the occupied territories. That truth — the persecution, forced Russification, torture and killings — doesn’t fit well into Russia’s narrative that claims they are liberating these territories.
These revelations could be especially damaging to Russia now that ceasefire negotiations are underway, and where it unfortunately appears the U.S. is ready to recognize Russian control over occupied Ukrainian territories — completely disregarding the fate of the millions of Ukrainians living there.
Russia tried to silence Viktoriia Roshchyna — instead, it proved her right.
Oppression of press freedom is by far not limited to Russia — the latest Press Freedom Index, released every year by Reporters Without Borders for World Press Freedom Day on May 3, shows an alarming picture. The overall level of press freedom globally is the lowest since the start of the index in 2002.
One major factor is the deteriorating economic climate in the media sector. In Ukraine, it was especially felt earlier this year, when the new U.S. administration abruptly ended USAID projects around the world. In Ukraine, U.S. grants funded many media outlets, including small front-line newspapers and prominent teams behind anti-corruption investigations. Grants like those cut came without interference in the content produced by the media — allowing them to maintain independence while paying their bills.
I wrote about it here. Since then, the Kyiv Independent held a fundraiser to help local outlets in areas near the front lines. Our community rose to the occasion in the most inspiring way — and we were able to quickly give some bridge funding to three newsrooms.
The Kyiv Independent itself is one of very few independent media outlets that wasn’t affected by the U.S. grant cuts because we are lucky enough to be backed by our readers. As of today, 17,500 people from around the world are members of the Kyiv Independent — they stand with us in our mission to bring the truth about Ukraine and Russia’s crimes to the world, and we are immensely grateful to them.
As I’m writing this on World Press Freedom Day, looking at the dispiriting assessments of the state of free press globally, I keep coming back to them.
That gives me a ray of hope in the otherwise gloomy landscape — our community reminds me that press freedom has enough champions for the truth to not be subdued. And while some of the worst and most powerful people in the world are keen to end free press, some of the best are standing up to defend it.
If you’re reading this, consider supporting free press today. Pick a newsroom you believe in. Buy a subscription, a membership, or donate. If you can, donate to a Ukrainian newsroom.
There are many who can’t afford to pay for the news — and every donation means that people in any circumstances can have access to truthful information.
If you can’t afford a subscription or donation, those aren’t the only things you can do to show your support. Write a short email with words of encouragement to a newsroom you follow. It always means a lot to receive them. My inbox is a curious mix of “Die, Ukrainian propagandists. Russia will win!” and “You’re doing a great job, thank you so much!” — but there are many, many more of the latter kind.
And if you already are one of the many champions of free press worldwide — on behalf of our team, thank you. We are doing something right — together.
Daria Shulzhenko
