As Russian rocket attacks continue to rain down on Ukraine, the European Parliament will give the 2022 Sakharov Prize for Freedom of Thought to the people of Ukraine, represented by President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, elected leaders and civil society, on December 14.
This is an important acknowledgment, but right now Ukrainians are fighting primarily for their freedom to live rather than their "freedom of thought." They are fighting to live in a free and independent country, and so they do not have to fear being raped and murdered by Russian army soldiers. They are fighting to live in a country where their children do not have to take underground shelter from missiles.
And they are paying a very high price to achieve this goal: They are paying with the lives of those who are dying or have already died in the war, who are posthumous winners of the award.
Pulitzer and Sakharov prizes
To be honest, I never dreamed of winning the Pulitzer Prize or the Sakharov award. But now I have.
In May, the Pulitzer Board awarded "a special citation to the journalists of Ukraine for their courage, endurance, and commitment to truthful reporting during Vladimir Putin's ruthless invasion of their country and his propaganda war in Russia."
Most of the millions of brave Ukrainians who have collectively won this award will probably not remember it for long. I am sure it probably does not even mean anything to some of them. The same can be said of the Nobel Peace Prize that was co-awarded to the Center for Civil Liberties in Ukraine this year and the fact that a Ukrainian band — the Kalush Orchestra — won this year's Eurovision Song Contest.
That is very understandable. When missiles fly overhead and millions are forced to leave their homes, the last thing people feel like doing is celebrating. Even less when neighbors come home from the front in a zinc coffin, or children are forced to do their homework in air-raid shelters. Or when every missile attack on Kyiv, Kharkiv, Dnipro, Mykolaiv or Odesa feels like a personal attack and messages bearing crosses from relatives at the front make you cry.
A reality called 'war'
We are living in a reality called "war," in which the greatest thing to win is not an award but the right to live. All the Ukrainian winners of these prestigious prizes have one thing in common: They desperately want to live and win.
And this is what is making them increasingly courageous, bold, and daring. During the months of this grueling war, the fear has gradually faded into the background. Putin made a miscalculation when he tried to intimidate the Ukrainian people and deprive them of their future.
Those who are born to fly cannot crawl. Ukrainians will fight until the end for their country. No one will give in to the Kremlin. We are fighting for the right to live, and Russia wants to take this away.
Of course, the accolades that have generously been bestowed upon us around the world are good. It means that we are thought about, appreciated and honored.
It is a shame, however, is that these awards cannot be turned into deliveries of modern weapons from the West. And only these could help to stop the brutal massacre that Putin has unleashed in Ukraine.
Not a Netflix series
The protracted war, which the whole world has been following live since the end of February, seems to have blunted the perception of its viewers. Some seem to think that they are watching a Netflix series. With good fighting evil, a change of heroes on the screen, and fleeting images of destroyed cities. With the viewer getting used to suffering, tears and destruction, but waking up again suddenly when the main villain threatens the world with nuclear annihilation.
But it is time that everyone on planet Earth understood that Russia's war in Ukraine is not a movie. And that it is not only a war against Ukraine but against all of Western civilization. Sooner or later, it will affect everyone.
Putin, upon whose orders tens of thousands of Ukrainians are being killed at will and residential areas of peaceful cities are being bombed, is hardly going to put a stop to this himself. He crossed the line a long time ago. He is in a territory where there is no more room for compassion or remorse. We can only stop him together.
Serhiy Rudenko is a Ukrainian journalist and political commentator, who has published several books about Ukrainian politicians. He writes occasional columns for DW.
This opinion piece was originally written in Ukrainian.