Since the beginning of the full-scale Russian invasion, 2,375 libraries across Ukraine have ceased operations, with 229 seized by Russian occupying forces in the east and partially in the south, 131 completely destroyed due to atrocities comitted by the Russian army, and 746 requiring major repairs. In 2022, 11 million books in Russian were removed from Ukrainian libraries.
Images depicting burned pages of historical research and classics of Ukrainian literature covered in ash have become prevalent illustrations for journalistic articles. Media outlets select them for publication to showcase the Russian efforts to eradicate the intangible pillars of our existence — Ukrainian culture. On November 12, 2023, in Kherson, the city’s largest library was obliterated by enemy shelling. The impact ignited a massive fire that firefighters battled for an hour and a half to extinguish. Then, on January 13, 2024, a photo of a scorched book on Ukrainian history, found in an apartment damaged by Russia’s relentless missile barrage, began circulating widely on social media. Numerous similar instances abound, each a testament to Russia’s relentless campaign to obliterate Ukrainian identity, particularly through its most enduring embodiment — literature.
Following February 24, 2022, numerous public spaces in Ukraine took on additional roles, serving as temporary shelters for tens of thousands of displaced individuals, as well as mobile kitchens, warehouses, sorting centres, and more. Among these multifaceted spaces were libraries. Beyond their traditional role as repositories of knowledge and centres of learning, libraries also became makeshift shelters, hubs of information dissemination, and havens for those seeking respite during blackouts or in need of humanitarian assistance.
The evolution of public spaces happened naturally. People who passed by daily understood that they could offer and seek assistance in these spaces. Libraries served a dual purpose – providing a venue for socialising evacuated children from war zones and functioning as documentation centres for Russian war crimes. For example, last year, a centre was established in the public library of Bucha.
When the Russians blew up the Kakhovka Hydroelectric Power Station dam, libraries emerged as vital hubs for communication and information dissemination among those affected. They fostered a sense of unity, providing spaces where knowledge could be freely exchanged. However, this Russian atrocity resulted in the permanent obliteration of ten libraries in the region.
During wartime, a significant trend worth noting is the disposal of approximately 11 million books in Russian by libraries throughout Ukraine, as indicated by the latest data available for 2022. Meanwhile, these institutions have scarcely acquired any new Ukrainian books. Oksana Bruy, the director of the All-Ukrainian Library Association, highlights the dire state of library funding and book provision. “In 2023 and 2024, no funds were allocated from the state budget to state and national libraries, and centralized state book purchases through the Ukrainian Book Institute (UBI) were discontinued due to the war in the country. Consequently, the UBI offered grants to publishers for the publication of new books, which were then donated to libraries free of charge. However, the situation remains challenging in terms of quantity – there is a shortage of books,” she comments to The Ukrainian Week.
The director has raised the idea of using subsidies for cultural purposes, similar to the existing framework for education. A subsidy involves the government allocating a specific amount of funds to address the needs of a particular institution within a defined timeframe. In case the funds are misused, or the project fails to materialise, all allocated funds must be returned to the budget. This mechanism was developed by the Ministry of Culture and Information Policy and the Committee on Humanitarian Policy before the full-scale invasion. However, it is not currently being implemented.
Volunteer readers are working hard to ensure that Ukrainian literature is readily available in local libraries. Many people contribute to the public libraries by sharing books from their personal collections. They understand that hundreds of readers can benefit from books in public spaces, while at home, books are only for their own enjoyment. Some people collect books from like-minded individuals or purchase them with donations and later donate them to libraries.
“The call to volunteerism came naturally to us—Ukrainians who were compelled to relocate abroad following the onset of the full-scale invasion requested books. A symbol of home, an item that wasn’t part of the immediate essentials in the traditional sense, but would provide them with solace far from Ukraine,” shares Oleksandra Yaruchyk, head of projects and programs at the Library of the Ukrainian Catholic University, with The Ukrainian Week.
Following that, Oleksandra launched another initiative titled “I Want to Read.” This initiative aims to fill the void in schools, libraries, and educational centres across Ukraine affected by the war. “We’ve been providing assistance in the Kyiv, Kharkiv, and Mykolaiv regions. Transmitting local cultural history and exchanging internal nuances with each other is incredibly important. People who have never crossed paths before become a unified network within the realm of shared reading. And this network should continue to grow. We consistently support book donors, granting them access to the Library of the Ukrainian Catholic University, and they reciprocate by supporting us, the children from Kharkiv and Kyiv, and one another,” Oleksandra explains.
The library space comprises more than just books; it encompasses librarians and readers alike. “The most crucial elements are modern librarians, particularly library directors,” Oksana Bruy emphasises. “Specialised training programmes are essential, alongside a comprehensive overhaul of the entire sector – including salary increases,” she insists.
During wartime, the weight of memory is profound – the memory of loved ones, of security, and also the memory of experiences – personal, generational, or from individuals in different epochs on distant continents. Libraries not only aid in preserving this memory but also embody it through communication and support for Ukrainians, both near and far. Libraries have adapted to the realities of conflict, evolving into versatile spaces for refuge.
Likewise, our perspective must evolve – we must prioritise supporting library spaces because only by safeguarding what currently exists can we contemplate creation and transformation into something new.