Opinion
Why I left comfortable Melbourne and went into a war zone
James Baillieu
Chairman and investorIn Lviv, Ukraine, just across from the Polish border, one would barely know there was a war on. People stroll in the streets with smiles, dine outside, and buy luxury cosmetics in malls. Patriotic songs are joyously sung in candle-lit piano bars. I attended the ballet La Bayadere performed by the Lviv National Opera.
However, everybody knows someone who has been killed. The cemetery on the outskirts of town is overflowing. A whole new area called the “Field of Mars” is home to thousands of carefully tended military graves, each with a colour photograph and large Ukrainian flag. In one of the most moving scenes of my life, the wind picked up while I was there and all the flags flew in formation.
Locals Anton and Luba with James Baillieu (centre) and Ukrainian-Australian journalist Julian Krysh in Kupiansk on the front line.
Meanwhile, Kyiv, seven hours away by train, has a similar population to Melbourne and also has beautiful parks and fine dining. What sets Kyiv apart is its energy and intensity. It has people, ideas, aid, and love pouring in from all over, making the atmosphere heady.
What is happening in Ukraine is more than a war; it is a battle for our shared humanity. When I first went there in July 2022, I was shocked by the enormity of the horror. I also felt at one with Ukraine’s spirited, heroic and courageous people.
I felt compelled to contribute meaningfully. I funded military vehicles for drone use as well as prosthetics for soldiers and direct aid to other individuals. On my recent two-week visit, my third to Ukraine, I went all the way to war-torn Kharkiv and to Kupiansk on the front.
The war, now in its third year with more than 500,000 casualties across both sides, has complete moral clarity: defence against unprovoked aggression and the fight for freedom from tyranny.
Australian flags fly in Independence Square in Kyiv.
In Independence Square in central Kyiv, there are nine small Australian flags planted in a sea of Ukrainian flags for the Australians known to have died fighting for Ukraine in the International Legion. They were placed in September last year by representatives from the Ukrainian World Congress. Each flag has a name and was placed there with the words, “We will not forget you.”
There is appreciation in Kyiv for Australian aid to date, as well as the regular question, “Can the Australian government do more?” Australian aid has become a trickle, and on a per GDP basis, it is only 0.04 per cent, far behind most other Western countries. I was embarrassed by my answer: “The current government doesn’t seem to care.”
My Ukrainian friends in Kyiv warned me against going to Kharkiv, a 5½-hour train journey east from Kyiv and only 30 kilometres from the Russian border. Two weeks before my visit, the Russians had started a new offensive and they were getting closer to the city. The usual population is 1.2 million, but it has halved as residents fled. There were more than 40 missile attacks while I was there, with horrific scenes of death and destruction.
Nine Australian flags fly amid a sea of Ukranian flags in Independence Square, Kyiv. Each flag is in honour of an Australian known to have died fighting for Ukraine in the International Legion.
One attack hit a hardware supermarket. The building was a twisted wreck with acrid, billowing smoke blotting out the sun. Sheer terrorism designed to maximise civilian casualties. Later it was confirmed that 18 people were killed and 40 seriously injured. Rescue workers swarmed to help. As I walked closer to the burning scene, it felt like I was looking directly into a giant eye of evil.
A group of distressed people who had family and friends inside were being consoled. In the face of such arbitrary devastation, I despaired about what help I could possibly offer. But everyone else was busy being strong and doing their job, including an official in a “War Crimes Investigator” vest filming with a drone. Not far away, on the adjoining main street, the Ukrainian spirit was so unbreakable that people were going about their business, some walking holding hands, as if nothing unusual had happened.
Perhaps the highlight of this trip was delivering supplies to Kupiansk, an hour and a half from Kharkiv by car and on the front. I was told the population was down from 23,000 to 5000.
With explosions in the distance, I ate garden-grown strawberries with Anton and Luba at their tiny dining table. They exuded hospitality and their love for their home and their country. When explaining why they had stayed, even though neighbours had left or been killed in shelling, Anton said, “I want to live my life so as not to be ashamed of myself to my ancestors in heaven when I die.”
His words sum up why I went to Ukraine and did what I did: sharing humanity with such courageous and inspiring people and helping them tell their story.
Now, I’m back in Melbourne, catching up on work commitments and walking my dog, Magnus. Yet, the dread of booming missile strikes and heavy artillery occasionally haunts me. Even in safe Australia, we must not take democracy and freedom for granted.
Not everyone can travel to Ukraine, but we can all bring pressure on the government to do more. The current Australian government’s dwindling interest and aid is an outrage.
James Baillieu is a chairman and investor in early-stage technology companies.
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