As a second Ukraine summit between President Donald Trump and Russian President Vladimir Putin is called off and the war drags on, Oct. 24 will mark United Nations Day, commemorating the entry into force of the U.N. Charter in 1945 ‒ a document that enshrines peace and self-determination as global imperatives.
Eighty years later, Ukraine stands as a stark reminder that these principles are broken not just by bombs and rockets, but also by the rewriting of history, culture and identity. The war is waged with more than physical weapons as Moscow and Kyiv battle to reshape the story of the Ukrainian people and bend it to their own political will.
For more than three years, we have followed this conflict from opposite fronts: I, Luca Steinmann, from Russian-controlled territories, and Sera Koulabdara from Ukrainian-held grounds.
I covered Ukraine war from inside Russia’s grip
Journalist Luca Steinmann follows soldiers from the Russian paramilitary Wagner Group into the trenches around the eastern Ukraine city of Bahmut in winter of 2022.
By a twist of fate, I arrived in Donetsk – under Russian control since 2014, on Feb. 18, 2022, right before the Kremlin sealed the borders to prepare for the offensive less than a week later. That timing made me one of the very few Western journalists, unaffiliated with Moscow, to witness the opening months of the war from inside Russia’s grip. I stayed seven months and have been returning ever since.
Since 2022, I have seen the war transform. In its early weeks, I followed Russian troops advancing across the flat plains of the Donbas in scenes reminiscent of the world wars: storming trenches, fighting hand to hand with Soviet machine guns. Ill-equipped, many soldiers faced bitter cold and staggering losses, with progress measured only by which side buried fewer men.
Opinion:Deal to end Russia-Ukraine war must include returning abducted Ukrainian kids
Over time, military technology came to their aid. In the months that followed, the skies swarmed with drones ‒ Ukrainian and Russian ‒ clashing above and raining destruction on enemy positions below.
For nearly two years, soldiers on both sides had ceased advancing or retreating, entrenched in place, their eyes fixed nervously on the battle unfolding above. What began as trench warfare has transformed into a high-tech battlefield.
In Ukraine, the fallen are everywhere. So is resilience.
On the other side of the front, I, Sera Koulabdara, traveled through Ukraine in the summer of 2025 for nearly four weeks with my friends from World to Rebuild Rural Ukraine. WRRU is a Ukrainian organization that helps farmers rebuild their homes and farms caused by damages from Russian attacks.
My role on this trip was to document the war’s devastating impact on agriculture, the environment and, most important, the people of Ukraine.
We drove over 3,000 miles through 23 cities. What I witnessed was more than scorched fields or shattered silos. It was the quiet heroism and endurance etched into the faces of people who refuse to be broken.
Opinion:War doesn’t end with a ceasefire. Ukraine needs real disarmament, not a checkbox.
Driving through the Ukrainian countryside, we were awestruck by the sunflowers stretching to the horizon, golden cornfields, wildflowers dancing beneath impossibly blue skies. For a moment, we could forget we were in a war zone.
Yet the reminders were always present: roadside shrines, graveyards, silent memorials. The fallen are everywhere. So is resilience. In parks and playgrounds, murals bloom in memory of the lost. Art becomes protest, prayer, mourning and survival.
How the Kremlin is trying to erase the Ukrainian national identity
Inside Russian-occupied territories, the Kremlin is advancing a calculated strategy to entrench its influence and to establish the foundations for a permanent presence of its own. Economic aid, humanitarian relief and cultural messaging are being used not just to control but also to integrate.
The overarching goal is not to expel the inhabitants, but to erase the Ukrainian national identity and replace it with a Russian one. The process has been described by many as a campaign of “de-Ukrainization.”
As Russian forces pushed through eastern Ukraine in early 2022, they were joined by members of the pro-Putin United Russia party. These officials distributed food, medicine and ideological literature that portrayed Ukraine not as a sovereign nation ‒ but as a lost brother needing reunification.
Russian pension schemes and social benefits were quickly introduced, often outpacing what the Kyiv government could provide, creating dependence and encouraging acceptance.
The destruction of Mariupol was followed by a rapid reconstruction campaign under Russian oversight. New infrastructure, schools teaching Russian curricula and banks tied to Russian institutions redefined the city’s identity. Soviet-era monuments were restored; Ukrainian symbols disappeared.
In the destroyed neighborhoods, children now ride bicycles beneath Russian flags while their fathers fight in the Ukrainian army. These are not isolated images ‒ they are symbols of a country, and even families, torn in two.
The trauma runs deep, and the scars could last generations.
Opinion alerts: Get columns from your favorite columnists + expert analysis on top issues, delivered straight to your device through the USA TODAY app. Don’t have the app? Download it for free from your app store.
How Kyiv is pushing to strengthen Ukrainian identity, language and memory
Since 2014, Ukraine has mounted its own cultural push. Kyiv has intensified efforts to strengthen Ukrainian identity, language and memory. Laws promoting the Ukrainian language and curbing Russian in media and education ‒ despite a relevant number of Ukrainians being native Russian speakers ‒ have reshaped the country’s cultural landscape. Streets and cities once named for Soviet leaders and Russian poets, artists and politicians have been renamed to honor Ukrainian historical figures.
For millions, however, the instinct for survival now outweighs any cultural affiliation.
What we have seen ‒ on both sides of the front ‒ is that this war is no longer just about borders. It is about the right to exist on one’s own terms, to speak one’s own language, to remember one’s own past. It is about who gets to write the story of a people and who has the power to erase it.
Luca Steinmann is a Swiss Italian journalist and war correspondent, one of the very few journalists unaffiliated with the Kremlin reporting from the areas of Ukraine controlled by Russia.
The United Nations was created to prevent a future defined by such wars. Its charter, forged from the ashes of global conflict, promised to defend peace, dignity and self-determination.
In Ukraine, civilians from both sides of the front witness every day how that promise is being shattered not only by missiles but also by the toppling of monuments, the erasure of historical symbols, the language restrictions and the quiet violence of cultural annihilation.
This U.N. Day, the world must confront a harsh truth: The system meant to uphold these principles is faltering.
Silence here is not an option. The world must rise ‒ not just to resist surrender, but to reclaim the promise of peace and freedom for all.
Sera Koulabdara is CEO of Legacies of War, an organization focused on raising funds and awareness for humanitarian demining, victims assistance and explosive ordnance risk education.
Luca Steinmann is a Swiss Italian journalist and war correspondent, one of the very few journalists unaffiliated with the Kremlin reporting from the areas of Ukraine controlled by Russia. Sera Koulabdara is the CEO of Legacies of War and cochair of the War Legacies Working Group.
You can read diverse opinions from our USA TODAY columnists and other writers on the Opinion front page, on X, formerly Twitter, @usatodayopinion and in our Opinion newsletter.
This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: Trump, Putin summit on Ukraine called off. Where’s UN? | Opinion