Artefacts of War, Politics of Memory: Material Witnesses in Occupied Kherson
Liudmyla Pidkuimukha
The idea for this article emerged during an interview I was conducting with Olena Afanasieva, head of the NGO Center for Cultural Development ‘Totem’. During our conversation, she shared her vision of establishing a “Museum of Resistance,” featuring exhibits that narrate everyday life in Kherson under occupation. Kherson was occupied by Russian forces from 2 March to 11 November 2022, becoming the only regional centre captured during the initial phase of the full-scale invasion. Despite active civic resistance, including peaceful protests, the city endured a harsh occupation marked by repression, kidnappings, torture, forced passportisation, and attempts at Russification. The Armed Forces of Ukraine liberated Kherson on 11 November 2022 following a strategic weakening of Russian logistics, and residents greeted Ukrainian troops with visible support.
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The everyday experiences of civilians during the occupation have been documented through various projects: the documentary “Window to Kherson”, the Ukrainian-Estonian project “Lament of Kherson region”, and the reportage collection “De-occupied: Stories of Ukrainian Resistance”. Human rights activist and Nobel Peace Prize laureate Oleksandra Matviichuk, in the foreword to the book “De-occupied: Stories of Ukrainian Resistance,” points out:
It often lacks resonance against the backdrop of statements by politicians who suggest handing over the occupied territories to the aggressor country and satisfying its imperial appetites. The voice of the survivors makes such appeals immoral.
In this article, I will discuss the everyday experiences of Kherson inhabitants during the occupation by examining twenty artefacts collected for the future “Museum of Resistance”, which will be dedicated to the lived experiences of occupation. These objects have come to be regarded as artefacts following the liberation of the occupied territories, as they bear witness to life under occupation and convey its stories. De-occupation has conferred upon them significant historical value. As stated on the website:
This museum is not only a way to commemorate and preserve the memory of those who fought for a free Ukrainian Kherson, but also a place where its identity is articulated. It is a museum that documents not only our losses, but also our choice, our right to be Ukrainians and Europeans, and our strength to stand by that choice.
The artefacts collected by the “Kherson: Liberation of Memory” initiative for the “Museum of Resistance” represent a grassroots attempt to create such anchors. Rather than focusing exclusively on military artefacts or official documentation, the project emphasises everyday objects. These items capture the experiences of civilians who navigated the occupation through a combination of resistance and cultural continuity. The emphasis on everyday material culture aligns with broader trends in museum studies that prioritise bottom-up documentation of conflict experiences. Macdonald (2013) argues that contemporary memory museums increasingly seek to incorporate personal objects and narratives in order to humanise historical events and highlight the experiences of ordinary individuals. The Kherson initiative reflects this approach by inviting residents to contribute artefacts and stories from the occupation. The artefacts originate from diverse environments, such as private homes, workplaces, and public spaces, and represent different aspects of life during the occupation, including acts of resistance, survival strategies, and symbolic expressions of cultural identity.
Material culture provides a particularly valuable perspective for analysing such experiences. Heersmink (2023, p. 263) explores the relationship between cultural identity, collective memory, and artefacts, emphasising that “the use of cultural artefacts to remember events in the historical narrative of cultural groups is done on both an individual and collective level.” Thus, objects can function as mediators between personal memories and collective narratives (Macdonald, 2013). In contexts of war and occupation, everyday objects often acquire new meanings as they become associated with particular actions, emotions, or events. Moreover, as Broch et al. (2023, p. 353) hold, “objects and things also take on national identities through their conservation, their use in performances and the emotional weight we attach to them”. As these artefacts have been incorporated into commemorative practices, such as books or museums, they participate in the construction of public memory and historical interpretation.
Objects associated with conflict often become what Smith (2006) describes as “heritage in action”, a cultural process or performance. Accordingly, heritage is not a static “thing” or tangible item, but rather a social practice that occurs around the preservation, interpretation, and display of sites, objects, and stories. Thus, the significance of the artefacts, I argue, does not lie solely in their physical peculiarities, characteristics or materiality, but in the stories that communities attach to them. In many cases, objects gain mnemonic power precisely because they are ordinary items that have been recontextualised through extraordinary circumstances.
Botanova (2025) points out that the war destroys not only critical infrastructure and transportation networks but also memories, legacies, heritage, and identities. She also quotes an architect and cultural heritage expert, Andrii Lutsyk, who observes how new forms of identity and collective memory in Kherson are being forged under conditions of war, which can be understood as “the cultural heritage of the future”. Everyday cultural practices, local stories, and seemingly mundane objects thus acquire particular significance.
In times of war and occupation, everyday objects are transformed into memory artefacts, serving as anchors that stabilise collective narratives and enable communities to process traumatic events. These items are material traces that embody experiences, emotions, and narratives connected to those events (Macdonald, 2013), in this case, the Russo-Ukrainian War and Russia’s occupation of Kherson. Furthermore, artefacts possess discursive and material relevance in the moment of resistance (Johansson, 2017; Lilja & Wasshede, 2016). These material expressions enable the emergence and visibility of alternative communities of belonging by delineating symbolic boundaries between those recognised as members and those positioned outside these collective identities (Johansson et al., 2018, p. 7). The artefacts become important factors in resistance and in mobilising people.
By analysing twenty artefacts from Kherson as material witnesses, this study explores how everyday objects become embedded in the politics of memory in post-occupation societies. It demonstrates how tools used in acts of resistance or in the preservation of cultural identity can transform into powerful carriers of historical meaning. I have grouped the analysed objects into three analytical categories that reflect different dimensions of life under occupation.
Objects of resistance
The first category includes artefacts directly associated with acts of resistance. These objects document actions that challenged the authority or legitimacy of the occupying forces. For example, the scraper brush that residents used to remove Russian propaganda billboards represents an attempt to reclaim the city’s visual space. By physically erasing the occupiers’ messages, people intervened in the semiotic landscape and reaffirmed Kherson’s Ukrainian identity.
These personal objects derive their significance primarily from the stories attached to them and from the people who used them. A striking example is a plastic bucket used by Hryhorii Yanchenko, widely known in Kherson as Uncle Hrysha. On the one hand, the bucket itself is valuable because of the events associated with it: it became a silent witness to the occupation and the everyday practices of resistance that unfolded during this period. I recall recording an interview with Olena Afanasieva, who noted that Uncle Hrysha initially refused to donate the bucket to the museum. He considered it too worn and shabby and even suggested replacing it with a new one. Yet a new bucket would have been merely an ordinary household object, lacking the historical and symbolic value that the original had acquired. It is precisely the traces of use and the memories embedded in the object that transform it into an artefact of cultural heritage.
On the other hand, the significance of the bucket is inseparable from the activities of the person who used it. According to Afanasieva, Uncle Hrysha is known to almost everyone in Kherson and has become a local legend. Since 2014, the elderly wheelchair user has raised funds for the Ukrainian Armed Forces by collecting donations in a transparent bucket in public spaces. This plastic bucket has been immediately recognised by people as intended for the Ukrainian military. During the Russian occupation of Kherson in 2022, he continued this activity despite the considerable risks involved.
Moreover, fundraising was not his only act of resistance. Yanchenko also transformed his daily route into a performative expression of symbolic resistance by playing Ukrainian patriotic songs and the national anthem through a portable speaker. The music, audible across the streets, served as a reminder that Kherson remained part of Ukraine and visibly lifted the spirits of passers-by. On symbolic dates such as his birthday and Ukraine’s Independence Day, Yanchenko wore vyshyvynkas, (embroidered shirts) in national colours, openly displaying Ukrainian cultural symbols in an occupied city where even small expressions of national identity could lead to arrest.
Another artefact that illustrates everyday resistance in occupied Kherson is a self-made Ukrainian flag, assembled from ordinary household materials. Usually, the initiative to hang flags on official buildings, columns, etc. comes from the authorities (Falcó-Gimeno & Kemp, 2025). However, in this case, using a flag is strongly associated with local bottom-up dynamics and resistance. During the first weeks of the occupation, Ukrainian flags were widely visible in the city. However, as repression intensified, displaying national symbols became increasingly dangerous. Russian forces began detaining people for carrying Ukrainian flags or even wearing small yellow-and-blue ribbons. In response, many residents hid their flags to avoid arrest. Yet the absence of official symbols did not mean the disappearance of symbolic resistance. Unable to obtain Ukrainian flags or even blue-and-yellow fabric, residents began improvising new forms of national symbolism from everyday materials. One such improvised flag consisted of a blue medical mask combined with a yellow household cleaning cloth. Although modest in appearance, these small handmade symbols served as quiet yet powerful expressions of protest. Displaying them in public spaces signalled solidarity with Ukraine and offered encouragement to neighbours living under occupation. Under occupation, the flags play a crucial social function – uniting people, “because through ritual use they evoke a shared psychological state of solidarity with the group” (Shanafelt, 2008, p. 13).
The artefacts of this group illustrate what Scott (1990) describes as everyday forms of resistance, subtle actions through which individuals contest power without engaging in open confrontation. In the context of occupation, these micro-practices of resistance have played an important role in maintaining civic solidarity and undermining the occupiers’ symbolic authority.
Objects of survival and adaptation
The second category comprises artefacts related to everyday survival during the occupation. These items document how residents adapted to danger and uncertainty. Although such objects may appear mundane, they provide crucial insight into the lived realities of occupation, experiences that are often absent from official historical narratives focused primarily on military operations or political developments.
One example, presented in the exhibition, is an ordinary plastic basin filled with water that stood next to the desk of Kherson political scientist and local historian Dementii Bilyi throughout the occupation. Bilyi remained in the city during the entire period of Russian control and continued to document the situation in Kherson, writing analytical reports and articles for Ukrainian and international media. At the same time, this work placed him at considerable personal risk. As a public intellectual and civic activist, he was reportedly included on lists of individuals targeted for detention by the occupying authorities. The basin of water placed beside Bilyi’s desk served as a precautionary measure: in the event of a sudden search by Russian security forces, he planned to throw his mobile phone into the water to destroy the information stored on it. This artefact illustrates how survival strategies often relied on the repurposing of ordinary household items whose practical appearance concealed protective intentions. In this context, everyday domestic objects changed their primary functions and acquired additional ones.
War and occupation have redefined not only the meanings of everyday objects but also those of words. Ostap Slyvynsky underscores this in his book “A Ukrainian Dictionary of War”, where “people unconsciously were using other words in an unusual sense”, as according to Yurcaba (2025), “even the simplest word’s meaning can change, transform, and contract during times of immense and intense emotion.”
Another artefact, illustrating the terror and pressure of the Russian militants, is a “clean phone” used by Kherson photographer and artist Mykhailo Rai. In practice, he used two phones. One was his primary device, containing messages, photographs, and the materials he shared online. The second was a “zero” or “clean” phone that contained no personal data, no social media accounts, and no message history. Carrying such a device became a common precaution among pro-Ukrainian residents of the city. Russian soldiers regularly stopped civilians at checkpoints and searched their phones; any suspicious content could lead to detention or interrogation.
These objects of survival and adaptation provide material testimony to the everyday strategies through which residents of Kherson navigated the uncertainties of occupation.
Symbolic and cultural objects
The third category of artefacts comprises items that embody cultural identity and symbolic continuity, highlighting how Kherson residents preserved Ukrainian heritage under occupation. These objects range from traditional cultural items, such as the motanka doll, to personal and everyday symbols of resistance, including a wedding wreath and a hearing aid, demonstrating the centrality of material culture in maintaining identity.
The motanka, “perceived today as one of the national and regional cultural achievements” (Roman, 2022, p. 273), survived in the city’s Department of Education despite the occupying forces removing almost all school property. The survival of the motanka amidst the occupation illustrates how ordinary cultural artefacts acquire heightened significance, functioning as tangible markers of identity and continuity even when larger institutional structures are disrupted.
Cultural identity was similarly maintained through rituals and personal celebrations. One poignant example is a Ukrainian wedding conducted under occupation. In the exhibition, it is represented by the bride’s own wedding wreath. Despite the danger, the couple organised the ceremony, which included Ukrainian songs and traditional customs, symbolising defiance and continuity of cultural life. This wreath and the wedding itself demonstrate how cultural practices and rituals can function as acts of asserting belonging and maintaining social cohesion in conditions of political oppression.
Another symbolically significant object is a hearing aid used by an 82-year-old woman to hear her neighbours singing patriotic songs, such as Oi, u Luzi Chervona Kalyna, during the occupation. Singing became a form of peaceful, public resistance: residents would quietly gather at windows and balconies, creating spontaneous communities of solidarity despite surveillance and repression. The hearing aid thus connects sensory experience to cultural resilience, enabling individuals to participate in collective identity even from home.
The motanka doll, wedding wreath, and hearing aid function as conduits for collective memory, enabling audiences to participate in processes of cultural continuity, shared history, and resistance. In Kherson, symbolic objects became crucial tools for preserving Ukrainian identity, demonstrating that even under occupation, cultural practices and artefacts can sustain a sense of belonging and community.
Thus, the twenty artefacts analysed in this article demonstrate the powerful role that material culture can play in shaping the memory of occupation. These everyday items have been transformed into historical artefacts that document multiple dimensions of the Kherson experience: resistance, adaptation, cultural continuity, and civic solidarity. These artefacts are meaningful not only for their physical presence but also for the stories they carry. Each object is accompanied by narratives detailing its role during the occupation, transforming mundane or personal items into “material storytellers.” More broadly, the analysis illustrates how objects function as mediators between personal memory and public history. Material artefacts provide tangible evidence of experiences that might otherwise remain invisible in official accounts. As such, they play a crucial role in shaping how societies remember periods of conflict and political upheaval. In future research, I plan to develop this topic by conducting interviews with the people who gave these items to the museum, as well as with other survivors of the occupation, to investigate the processes of peaceful, private, and public resistance.
Dr Liudmyla Pidkuimukha is an Associate Professor at the National University of Kyiv-Mohyla Academy (Ukraine). From 2022 to 2025, she was a postdoctoral researcher at the Justus Liebig University of Giessen (Germany), where she investigated language ideologies in the context of violence and conflict – and she has been a visiting scholar at the universities of Canada, Germany, and Poland. As a sociolinguist and slavist, her research interests encompass language policy, language ideology, bi- and multilingualism, and cultural and media studies. She is a co-founder of the Network “Vision Ukraine: Education, Language, Migration” and a consultant to the Young Scientists Council at the Ministry of Education and Science of Ukraine. In 2016, she defended her PhD thesis on the language situation in Lviv between the two world wars.
Editorial Credit: Laura Innocenti