On March 6th, protestors gathered in San Francisco to rally for peace in Ukraine.
On the pavement beneath them, they painted this image.
A blue and white dove, wings outstretched, surrounded by vibrant orange flowers.
It’s a copy of a 1982 painting called “A Dove Has Spread Her Wings and Asks for Peace”
by Ukrainian artist Maria Prymachenko
a self-taught painter known for her colorful, joyous scenes
incorporating themes from Ukrainian folk traditions
who Picasso once called an “artistic miracle.”
The week prior, posts on social media showed a small museum
that housed her paintings burning to the ground.
The fire destroyed, by some accounts, up to 25 major works.
Satellite images show that none of the surrounding structures were damaged
indicating an intentional, targeted attack by Russian forces.
It was one of the first examples of what experts fear
will be devastating damage to Ukraine's physical culture.
It's one thing to try and destroy the intellectual and emotional part of our culture
but it's another thing to destroy the actual physical representations of that.
All the things that define us as a community, as a country, as a nation
that's what we are fighting for.
It’s a fight that’s played out countless times around the world.
Across history people have risked their lives to save art like this from war zones.
So how do they do it?
And...
What do we stand to lose if they fail?
World War II was a turning point in the history of cultural heritage preservation.
Systematic Nazi looting, book and art burning
and the sheer destructive force of modern weaponry
put the world’s artistic treasures at unprecedented risk.
Which prompted an unprecedented response.
Britain's national gallery whisked their collection away to a Welsh mine.
American art historians formed a roving military unit
to essentially re-steal art from Nazis.
And all over Europe, soldiers and volunteers worked to shield masterpieces
using bricks, sandbags, and scaffolds.
Which worked pretty well.
Da Vinci’s "Last Supper" survived an accidental bombing in Milan.
Thanks to the scaffolding that bolstered the wall it’s painted on.
And the sandbags and wood that absorbed some of the blast.
But direct attacks are another story.
Like in the German city of Dresden.
Where targeted Allied bombing wiped out 90% of the city’s historic center.
After the war, to try to prevent future damage, the international community
signed the 1954 Hague convention.
Which requires them to protect cultural property in the event of armed conflict
and it includes provisions or articles that require them
you know, not to target cultural heritage.
Dr. Bassett is the Director of the Cultural Heritage Monitoring Lab.
A group that uses high-res satellite imagery to track threats and damage to sites globally.
Partially, as evidence for future prosecution.
Because under the 1954 convention,
“damage to cultural property means damage to the cultural heritage of all mankind”.
So attacks on cultural heritage are a considered war crime.
But treaties can only do so much.
In the years since, conflicts around the world
have rendered immeasurable damage to cultural heritage.
A lot of it intentional.
Like the Taliban’s destruction of the Bamiyan buddhas.
And Isis’ attacks on ancient sites all over Syria.
That cultural heritage is not only impacted,
but in many ways it's implicated and central to armed conflict.
These are things that people point to that are unifying factors for their society.
They are tangible reflections of their identity.
And Putin has made it clear that identity is at the ideological center of Russia's invasion.
[in Russian] “I would like to emphasize again that Ukraine is not just
a neighboring country for us.
It is an inalienable part of our own history,
culture, and spiritual space.”
He thinks that we don't really exist
and they want to destroy all the signs of our identity.
Vasyl Mytsko and his colleagues at the Lviv Gallery of Art
oversee tens of thousands cultural items around Ukraine
and that's still only a fraction of what the country stands to lose.
The first step in protecting cultural heritage
is identifying what needs protecting.
The 1954 Hague Convention requires that each country keep an inventory
of their cultural heritage sites.
But, that’s a big ask.
I will say that the U.S. does not have a list like that.
Ukraine didn't either.
But Dr. Bassett and his team started at the first sign of Russian escalation.
We started building our mapping inventory for Ukraine in April of 2021
well before the invasion this year.
The final inventory looks something like this.
Each of the 20,000 plus blue dots is a different site.
The country is home to 7 UNESCO world heritage sites
including the entire historical center of Lviv.
And the Saint Sophia's Cathedral, Saint Sophia Square, one of the most beautiful places in
Ukraine and my personal favorite place in Ukraine.
Caterina Buchatskiy is the cofounder of the Shadows Project
a group dedicated to preserving and promoting Ukrainian culture.
We have Baroque, we have modernism, we have neoclassical
all on the same street and it all works together and it creates
this beautiful visual mosaic of all the different Ukraines that have existed.
Plus historically significant buildings, archaeological sites, monuments
and, of course, museums.
Featuring works by Ukrainian artists like Kazimir Malevich.
An array of traditional Ukrainian folk art
And troves of scythian gold, ancient jewelry from what is now Crimea.
Which Russia has an established history of attempting to loot.
Though, the international community has ruled they rightfully belong to Ukrainian.
But after everything is cataloged, it has to be secured.
The 1954 convention also requires that each country
have a group dedicated to safeguarding cultural heritage.
It is very much a constellation of government agencies, militaries
NGOs, academics, museum institutions that are honestly working collaboratively
to collectively do this type of work.
When the invasion began museums had to scramble
to make their own inventories, secure their buildings, and move items to safety.
Even in cities under siege
volunteers and workers return day after day to safeguard Ukraine's treasures.
I'm actually here in Lviv right now, where I just dropped off the first round of shipments
to the National Museum in Lviv.
We dropped off fireproof equipment and we have some generators
and fireproof cabinets coming in next week.
As much as we can do to minimize collateral damage, we are doing.
Days before the country was invaded, the ministry of culture sent out private guidance to museums.
And has since asked that the international community
withhold information about the whereabouts of their collections.
If history is any indication
collections have moved underground or outside of major cities
or out of the country entirely.
And for some of Ukraine’s immovable treasures, history is repeating itself more directly.
In Odesa, guards once again stand watch over the opera house
backed by sandbags and roadblocks.
And in Lviv, volunteers are covering stained glass windows with metal panels
and roving the city wrapping statues with tarps, insulation, duct tape
whatever materials they can muster.
In the hopes that, like before, it’ll be enough.
Let's say it this way.
We hope for the best but are preparing for the worst.
The starting place for all of this work is knowing that cultural heritage will be lost.
Dr. Bassett and his team also monitor impacts to sites.
So far, they’ve registered hundreds.
Early on, the Ukrainian cultural ministry
launched a site to collect evidence of crimes against cultural heritage
organizing it all in a timeline.
To use as evidence for potentially prosecuting war crimes.
And as a way to organize future efforts to secure and restore whatever is damaged.
After the war ends, I don't want to be looking around at empty walls.
I want to be seeing myself.
I want to be seeing my people reflected along with me
and I want to make sure that not only my people today are surviving
but all of our ancestors before us are surviving with us via their art.