Teenage Observer Turned Wartime Journalist: Mariana Lastovyria’s Mission to Keep Ukraine’s Voice Alive
At The Counteroffensive News, Mariana Lastovyria’s mission is to challenge “Ukraine fatigue” abroad with stories that keep the war’s human reality in focus.
Teenage Observer Turned Wartime Journalist: Mariana Lastovyria’s Mission to Keep Ukraine’s Voice Alive. At The Counteroffensive, Mariana Lastovyria’s mission is to challenge “Ukraine fatigue” abroad with stories that keep the war’s human reality in focus.
A Voice from Kiev
When the first missiles fell on Ukraine in the early hours of 24 February 2022, Mariana Lastovyria’s biggest fear was not the Russian advance. It was that her family might send her abroad.
“I knew I was living through a moment of history,” she recalls. “I didn’t want to watch it from another country. I wanted to be here among my people and to do something.”
That instinct to stay, at just 18 years old, would shape the trajectory of her early career. Now Creative Editor at Counteroffensive News, a small but determined Ukrainian newsroom publishing in English on the Substack platform, she reports on a war that has consumed her entire adult life. The Counteroffensive itself is small, staffed by several core reporters and a rotating group of interns. “It’s hard to say exactly how many full-time reporters we have,” Mariana explains, “since some combine reporting with other roles in our editorial team.”
The outlet’s mission is deceptively simple: to cut through what she calls “Ukraine fatigue” abroad, connecting international audiences to the human reality behind front-line updates. For Mariana, this means making sure people outside Ukraine understand that each headline, each battlefield statistic, represents lived experiences.
In the early months of the invasion, global coverage was immediate and intense. Major news organisations embedded correspondents, and Ukraine’s flag appeared in profile pictures around the world. But as the months turned into years, headlines faded, aid debates became more complicated, and audiences drifted.
For Mariana, this made the work more urgent. “Empathy is what connects people around the world,” she says. “If we don’t tell the human stories, people will forget we’re still here.”
Her writing is direct, without embellishment, shaped as much by the necessity of clarity in wartime as by the urgency to communicate across borders. It is the product of someone who has lived the story she tells, not as a detached observer, but as part of a generation defined by the war.
The War’s Impact on a Generation
When the full-scale invasion began, Mariana had just turned 18. For her and her peers, the transition to adulthood came not through gradual independence but through air-raid sirens and news alerts.
She rejects the notion still voiced abroad that Ukraine and Russia were “brother nations” until 2022. “We never had genuinely good relations,” she says firmly. “We were always an oppressed nation, packaged as brotherhood.”
By the time the first Russian tanks crossed the border, she had already spent months expecting it. “Half a year before, I was constantly anxious about war,” she recalls. Since 2014, the country had been living in what she calls “war reality”, with Crimea annexed and the Donetsk and Luhansk regions partially occupied. The 2022 escalation simply made the threat universal.
Mariana Lastovyria, Creative Editor & Journalist
For her generation, war has compressed time and altered priorities. In peacetime, early adulthood is often about exploring the world, building careers, and forming relationships without existential constraints. In Ukraine, it is about service, survival, and, for those in journalism, making sure the outside world still pays attention.
“Suddenly and unexpectedly, we became really old, mentally,” she says. “We started caring about things you don’t expect from someone in their early twenties.”
Friends have been killed, families displaced. Social milestones graduation parties, first jobs abroad have been replaced by volunteer work or military service. The ordinary markers of progress have been suspended, replaced by a collective mission to defend the country.
In conversations with people her age from other countries, she feels the gap. “I feel like I’m in my mid-thirties,” she says. “It’s not just the danger it’s everything you experience every day.”
Balancing Truth and Humanity
In a conflict filled with propaganda and deliberate misinformation, Counteroffensive News relies on clear editorial principles. Every source is checked, its background understood, and its track record evaluated before it is quoted.
“We don’t rush into breaking news,” Mariana says. “It’s better to wait and be right.” The newsroom uses what she calls a “white list” of reliable Ukrainian outlets, cross-referencing reports and requiring at least three independent sources before publishing unverified claims. The aim is not just to get the facts right but to maintain trust with readers, many of whom rely on the site as their primary source for Ukrainian perspectives.
This discipline extends to deciding which stories to cover in person. The outlet does occasional front-line reporting, but only when the value of being there outweighs the danger. “You can’t tell the story if you’re dead,” she says. The decision involves assessing the risks, planning evacuation routes, and ensuring proper protective equipment.
Equally important is the treatment of sensitive material. When dealing with accounts of personal loss or graphic violence, Mariana says the priority is always the dignity of the people involved. “We are accountable for what we write,” she says. “Sometimes that means leaving something out.”
Recruitment Campaigns in Wartime
More than three years into the war, Ukrainian advertising agencies have taken on an unusual client: the armed forces. Their campaigns target recruitment, particularly among young people who may soon be conscripted.
The message is pragmatic. Those who volunteer can choose their roles and receive more extensive training, rather than being sent directly into combat. “It’s a good alternative for people deciding what to do,” Mariana says. “At least they have some guarantees.”
For those approaching the age of 25, when the likelihood of conscription rises, the choice can be stark. Volunteering may allow them to serve in positions where their skills are better used, or in units where they have more control over their deployment
These campaigns reflect a more complex picture of the military than is often presented abroad. Of the estimated 1.5 million people serving, only a fraction are in direct combat. The majority work in logistics, intelligence, engineering, and medical support all roles essential to sustaining the front line.
Mariana sees these advertising efforts as both a necessity and a reflection of how the war has become part of daily life. “The visibility of the war means people know what they’re signing up for,” she says. “It’s not like joining in peacetime. You’ve seen the reality on the news, or maybe in your own street.”
Political Tensions and Corruption
Reporting on corruption during wartime is a test of a journalist’s independence. For Mariana, it is also an expression of patriotism. “If you ignore corruption, you become a partner in crime,” she says.
She believes journalists must address government failings, even when national unity is vital. At the same time, she acknowledges that under martial law, Ukraine cannot hold elections or replace leadership until the war ends. The focus, she says, must be on reform without destabilising the government.
Recent protests against restrictions on anti-corruption bodies showed that public pressure still matters. Zelensky reversed the measures after widespread criticism. “It’s patriotic to want a democratic country,” Mariana says. “You can support the war effort and still demand better from your leaders.”
The conversation inevitably turns to General Valerii Zaluzhnyi, the former commander-in-chief now serving as Ukraine’s ambassador to the United Kingdom. While respected, he has not declared political ambitions. Mariana is cautious about speculation. “It’s difficult to assume a good general will be a good politician,” she says. For now, the country’s attention is on defeating Russia, not debating succession.
International Perceptions
Mariana follows foreign coverage of the war closely. While she acknowledges that many outlets have reported with skill and courage, she sees a recurring flaw: a tendency to present Ukrainian and Russian claims as equally credible, even when the evidence is clear.
“Sometimes it feels like victim blaming,” she says, citing headlines that frame attacks on Ukrainian infrastructure as disputed allegations. In her view, this creates false equivalence, blurring the reality of aggression.
She would like to see more human-interest reporting in foreign media, and more direct collaboration with Ukrainian journalists. “Foreigners don’t always understand the context,” she says. “It’s better to work with people who live here than to parachute in for two weeks.”
Mariana believes such changes would not only improve accuracy but also maintain public engagement abroad. Without them, she warns, Ukraine risks becoming another long war that fades from global attention.
What Keeps Her Going
When asked how she sustains herself in such a demanding environment, Mariana answers without hesitation: the people around her. The resilience of neighbours, soldiers, volunteers, and fellow journalists is a constant source of strength.
“If they can keep going, so can I,” she says. “It’s that simple.”
Equally important is the mission to keep Ukraine’s voice heard. “There aren’t many Ukrainian voices in the world, especially in Western media,” she notes. “Speaking for them is my responsibility.”
For Mariana, journalism is not a temporary role taken on because of the war. It is a career she intends to pursue for the long term. “I’ve made my choice,” she says. “This is my work. This is my life.”
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