The truth is hard to accept. In memory of Georgiy Gongadze

23 years ago, on the night of September 16-17, the founder of Ukrainska Pravda, Georgiy Gongadze, was kidnapped by law enforcement officers in the center of Kyiv. 

As we later found out from the official investigation, the kidnappers took Gongadze out of the city, tied his hands and feet with a rope, and then strangled him - first with their hands, then with a belt. 

Then the murderers threw Georgiy's body into a pit, doused it with gasoline, and set it on fire.

Later, one of the killers, General Pukach, returned and cut off the journalist's head to bury it in another place and cover his tracks.

Despite a huge public outcry and protests, this case has still not been fully investigated. 

Presidents, governments, and interior ministers have changed, but the country still does not know the truth about the people who ordered the execution of this famous journalist.

For the last 9 years, I have been running the online media outlet that Georgiy Gongadze founded.

He gave it the name "Ukrainska Pravda" in order to give a new meaning to old concepts. The newspaper "Pravda" (which means Truth) was the main mouthpiece of Soviet propaganda, and "Ukrainska Pravda" was meant to defeat it. 

"Ukrainska Pravda" was meant to become a role model for independent journalism in a young independent country.

And today, 23 years later, our critics and detractors often mock this name, in an attempt to insult us or undermine our credibility. 

And I often think about how important and eternal this name is, because there is nothing more important than the truth.

The truth is hard, the truth is hidden, the truth is more important now than ever.

Especially in these difficult times, when sometimes there is nothing you can rely on.

The truth is hard

During this past year and a half of full-scale war, I have heard stories of torture, rape and death from people in villages, towns and cities in different regions across my country. 

Whether in the outskirts of Kyiv, in the small town of Trostyanets on the border with Russia, or in the Kharkiv region, they are all equally horrific. 

Amputated body parts, broken limbs, electrocution, sexual exploitation of women for food, the rape of men, children and elderly people, execution for refusing to cooperate, firing on peaceful evacuation convoys, hanging, interrogation with hammers and sledgehammers. 

All of these have been described to me and my colleagues by residents of liberated cities or people who have managed to escape the occupation.

This truth is very difficult, but very important to hear. And it’s largely thanks to journalists that we have learned the truth about these crimes. 

It is our duty to enable people to talk about their experiences, to give them a voice.

"It's hard to watch, but it's supposed to be hard to watch." Those are the words of Ukrainian filmmaker Mstislav Chernov, who told the story of people in occupied Mariupol.

Albert Camus once said that the world is divided into the plague and its victims, and it is our human duty not to take the side of the plague. 

I just want to add that very often it is honest and truthful journalism that helps us to avoid this.

The truth is necessary

In times of war, journalism has a special meaning.

I remember the first few days of Putin's invasion, when people were afraid to go to sleep without news.

I know how panic can work and how easily people's feelings can be manipulated.

On day six of the war, I got a call from a friend of mine in Mariupol. He was crying into the phone, asking "Is it true that Kyiv has already surrendered?" Because the Russians had started to spread their fake news and propaganda to people who were desperate. 

In the early days of the war, I had one task and one concern - to do everything possible to ensure that people received news from us around the clock. 

There were six or seven million people reading us every single day. And we had no choice - we could not let them down.

Because the truth was necessary just to survive. 

The truth is hidden

War is a difficult test for the truth. People try to hide the truth in everyday life, but during war it is even easier to do so. 

Any violation and prohibition can be explained away by the restrictions of wartime and security. And the task of journalists in this environment is to be able to feel and understand where such a ban genuinely threatens the lives of civilians or the Ukrainian military, and where it might be a clever manipulation to hide violations and inconvenient facts.

And this is always a difficult moral dilemma for a journalist whose country is fighting for the right to exist. 

During this year and a half of full-scale war, Ukrainska Pravda has published dozens of investigations into Ukrainian officials who used their power to gain privileges. 

We do this consciously, realizing the full burden of responsibility, because we want our country to remain a democracy. Because our nation is paying the ultimate price for the opportunity to be a democracy. 

We are doing this consciously because we know that any abuse today could cost our country lives. The lives of both civilians and members of the Ukrainian army in which our beloved friends, colleagues and family members are serving.

Because the truth must be pursued.

The truth is hard to hear.

The truth is rarely simple.

The truth is rarely obvious.

The truth can’t be glossed over.

The truth is hard to accept.

The truth is worth defending.

The truth is more important now than ever.

And that is why we will continue to tell the truth.

No matter how hard it might be for us.