The toll of the Russian invasion on Ukraine's rural and agricultural sector

Ukrainian farmer stealing Russian tank, an image that appeared
in many memes during the early days of the Russian invasion

I've been thinking about this topic since the early days of the Russian invasion of Ukraine:  how will the war's impact be different in rural places than in urban ones?  I was drawn to the topic in the first instance because of reports of the Russian occupation of rural areas north of Kyiv and references to the challenges of urban warfare for an invading force. The suggestion was that the density of population in cities was a greater challenge to an invading force because someone came pop out from behind the walls of an apartment building at any time and attack the invading force.  Indeed, this is what happened early in the Chechen war, when residents of Grozny stopped the Russian columns en route to the presidential palace in 1994.

Back to Ukraine:  also from the early days of the invasion, there have been the videos--and memes--highlighting Ukrainian farmers hauling off Russian tanks with their tractors.  Social media led us to believe that the Ukrainian "peasants" were getting the best of the Russian invaders--or at least giving them a run for their money.  Here's another example of that: 

Meme from early in Russian invasion of Ukraine.  
Caption is, "It's not much, but it's honest work," referring to theft of Russian tank

Other reports after the first weeks of the war told us the Russian columns dispersed from the roads going into Kyiv and scattered into the countryside, under cover of forests and such.  

Then, more recently, came the post-occupation reports of war crimes out of Bucha and other Kyiv exurbs, previously rural places but more recently satellite exurban communities for the nation's capital.  

Now, today, the New York Times has published a story under the headline, "'Everything was Destroyed':  War Hits Ukraine's Farms.  This important story is reported by Emma Bubola, Valeriya Safronova and Maria Varenikova.  An excerpt follows, with a focus on the bad news and no hint of farmers prevailing over Russian forces:  

“My farm has turned to ruins,” said Grigoriy Tkachenko, a farmer in the village of Lukashivka, near the northern Ukrainian city of Chernihiv. “There is almost nothing left.”

* * * 

The farm — his cattle, warehouses and machinery — was the product of his life’s work. After working in collective farms when Ukraine was under Soviet rule, Mr. Tkachenko bought about 15 acres of land and seven cows in 2005. Over the years, he expanded his operation to 3,700 acres and 170 cows, also producing corn, wheat, sunflowers and potatoes.

“What we built over decades,” he said, “they destroyed it over just a few days.”

Farmland covers 70 percent of the country and agricultural products were Ukraine’s top export, making up nearly 10 percent of its gross domestic product. Ukraine was one of the world’s main exporters of corn and wheat and the biggest exporter of sunflower oil.

The country now has 13 million tons of соrn and 3.8 million tons of wheat that it cannot export using its usual routes, primarily by sea, the deputy agriculture minister, Taras Vysotsky, said last week.

The story is well worth a read in its entirety--a sobering antidote to those heartening farmer memes from the first few weeks after the Russian invasion.  

Among other things, reports (like that by the New York Times) of the mining of Ukrainian fields is reminder of Anthony Marra writing of this phenomenon is The Tsar and Love and Techno, an excellent book with threads about the Russian war on Chechnya. The mines haunted--and terrorized--rural populations in Chechnya decades later.  

Post script:  NPR ran this story about the war's impact on Ukraine's farms and farmers on May 6, 2022.

Post script:  NYTimes story by Carlotta Gall on June 4, 2022, out of the Siversk District in eastern Ukraine.  This one features a farmer who keeps farming, in part for his animals, but also to feed his village.  There's a compelling quote reflecting rural lack of anonymity--and community: 

Mr. Chaplik is a fraying connection to the world for his increasingly isolated village, which he asked not be named so it would not suffer retribution from Russian troops. At considerable risk to himself, he provides vital supplies and information, and keeps producing food as best he can.

Many other farmers have left the area but he said he could not. “I can’t leave the people,” he said. “If I leave, I will not be able to return to the village, I will not be able to look people in the eye.”

But as the war has crept closer, he has had to shrink his business while trying to keep the farm producing and workers fed and paid. With utilities cut off, he runs the milk machines on generators, but can only operate his refrigerators for 12 hours a day.