As of June, more than 50,000 Ukrainians have lost one or more limbs in Russia’s war against Ukraine, and more than 3 million people—10% of the population—live with a disability. In theory, Ukraine has a legislative framework to protect people with disabilities and ensure their inclusion in society. In practice, however, outdated infrastructure and prevailing social attitudes still uphold significant barriers three years into the full-scale invasion.
Modern residential complexes, sleek shopping centers, and trendy restaurants are common in Kyiv, but Soviet-era public infrastructure is still pervasive. Ubiquitous underground crosswalks with long staircases, apartment buildings, government offices, stores, cultural centers, and even the subway remain largely inaccessible.
In the Soviet Union, people with disabilities were often viewed as expendable burdens—if they were acknowledged at all. After World War II and well into the transition years of the 1990s, people with disabilities were largely confined to their homes: transit was inaccessible, elevators often broke down, and wheelchairs and prosthetics were impractical and scarce.
Despite the millions of amputee veterans who returned from World War II, the state saw no reason to invest in accommodations to help them reintegrate into society. Instead, veterans with visible limb loss were considered “uncomfortable” reminders of the war, incompatible with the Soviet vision of postwar industrialization. The state even went so far as to ban people with disabilities from higher education through a secret decree.
“There are no invalids in the USSR!” was the official response at the 1980 Moscow Olympics when Western journalists asked whether Paralympians would compete. Through forced erasure, an entire population was made invisible.
Although conditions have greatly improved since Ukraine’s independence, significant challenges persist. Simply moving around Ukrainian cities remains challenging as even basic accessibility features—like ramps—are not common. The few that do exist are often too steep, too narrow, or blocked by generators or merchandise displays, rendering them useless.
Oleksandr Budko (callsign “Teren”), a veteran of the Carpathian Sich 49th Infantry Battalion who has experienced double limb loss, is a public figure, activist, and Season 13 Bachelor contestant. Both Budko and Yevhen Syvoplias, a veteran and activist, have been using their respective social platforms to highlight the barriers facing wheelchair users across Ukraine. Their videos capture everything from curbed sidewalks to unreachable call buttons for assisted entry, broken wheelchair lifts, and the indifference of many passersby.
Ramps alone, however, are only a small part of the picture, says Oleksandr Bazylevych, a former drone operator with the 3rd Regiment of the Ukrainian Special Operations Forces, who lost three limbs during an offensive outside Kupiansk in September 2023. In reality, many businesses with visible ramps fail to meet other essential needs—such as wide enough entrances or accessible restrooms for wheelchair users.
Dialogue and cooperation from business owners are critical to implementing structural changes that foster a more inclusive society. This would benefit not only wheelchair users but also parents with strollers, seniors, and others with limited mobility. Public transportation also needs an upgrade (and a dedicated city budget) as the subway and private mini buses, or “marshrutky,” are impossible for wheelchair users to navigate, leaving private taxis as the main—and unaffordable—option.
Physical barriers aren’t the only challenges for veterans with disabilities. A long-standing Soviet belief that people with disabilities cannot live independently continues to permeate society. Bazylevych says he is constantly asked by everyone from taxi drivers to train staff where his attendant is—a frustrating assumption rooted in outdated notions of perceived helplessness.
Gary Wasserson
Although people often offer to help him navigate difficult situations, Bazylevych emphasizes that universal accessibility must be a priority:
“Accessibility is important, because objectively-speaking, there are many people who require it. I don’t need any special entitlements, I just want to work and live my life. Society as a whole needs to change its perception of people with disabilities because we can work, we can earn money, we just need conditions that allow this to happen. These (structural) changes only need to be instituted once, it’s not a years-long process—we don’t need much, just the possibility to get around freely and have access to the basics.”
"Society as a whole needs to change its perception of people with disabilities because we can work, we can earn money, we just need conditions that allow this to happen."
Against the backdrop of war, projects promoting visibility, destigmatization, and inclusion are creating a blueprint for true accessibility in Ukraine.
One such project is Kurazh, a popular cultural and social event in Kyiv that combines lectures and performances with curated local brands. Known for its focus on tolerance and inclusivity, Kurazh has raised over 50 million hryvnias with the help of 750,000 guests over the past decade.
Recently, the festival has included a booth for the Superhumans rehabilitation and prosthetics center, sign language interpreters, accessible parking, photo exhibits of people with facial differences, wheelchair-friendly children’s playgrounds, and more.
Kurazh’s founders say their commitment to accessibility began in 2016 when they defined accessibility as synonymous with freedom, their most valued principle. Each small step brings Ukraine closer to a barrier-free society and a new socio-cultural definition of “normal.”
Fight For Right, an organization taking a service-based approach, organizes evacuations for people with disabilities (who face additional obstacles compared to able-bodied people), advocates for legislative changes, and offers a braille studio, inclusive cinema, and inclusivity workshops and consultations for businesses and communities.
Superhumans Center, Ukraine’s most recognizable full-service rehabilitation and prosthetics center due in part to its large social media presence, goes beyond typical post-injury services. The center’s team works daily to destigmatize disability through initiatives like Q&A sessions for school-aged children, introducing them to diversity at a young age and teaching that difference is normal rather than something to fear.
As a new generation grows up in a war-marked reality, there’s hope that indifference and objectification will give way to genuine efforts to prioritize accessibility in a rapidly evolving society.
When asked about his future, Bazylevych reflects on his life as someone who has lost three limbs and what he would say to those who question whether it was worth it:
“My future? I want to leave the military, continue to work and travel, meet new people, and widen my horizons. I would tell them that everything’s okay in my life. I’m a worthy citizen of my country; I did everything that I felt I needed to do. I have a job, I travel, I have friends, I have many positive and interesting things in my life—everything’s not so bad after all.”
Editor’s Note: The opinions expressed in the op-ed section are those of the authors and do not purport to reflect the views of the Kyiv Independent.
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