The Truth Is Strong Enough on Its Own: A Conversation with Kharkiv Human Rights Journalist Iryna Skachko
By Matthew Parish
Tuesday 10 November 2026
Kharkiv has become one of the defining cities of Ukraine's resistance to Russian aggression. Situated close to the Russian border and subjected to repeated bombardment since the beginning of the full-scale invasion in February 2022, it is a city whose inhabitants have learned to continue their ordinary lives under circumstances that would once have seemed unimaginable. Yet beyond the military headlines, the destruction of buildings and the daily struggle to maintain essential services, another battle is being fought: the struggle to document atrocities, establish responsibility for crimes and preserve the principles of human dignity upon which a free society depends.
Amongst those engaged in this work is Iryna Skachko, a journalist with the Kharkiv Human Rights Protection Group (KHPG), one of Ukraine's oldest and most respected human rights organisations. Emerging from the Soviet dissident tradition associated with Memorial, KHPG has spent decades defending individual liberties, challenging abuses of state power and representing victims of human rights violations. Since Russia's full-scale invasion, much of its work has concentrated upon documenting war crimes, supporting survivors of captivity and pursuing accountability for the enormous catalogue of abuses committed against Ukrainian civilians and prisoners of war.
Skachko's career offers a particularly interesting perspective on the moral and professional dilemmas of this work. A journalist who previously reported on shortcomings within Ukrainian institutions, she now spends much of her time recording the experiences of people subjected to Russian occupation, detention and torture. Her approach combines a strong commitment to Ukraine's independence with an equally firm belief that human rights must remain universal, even during a war for national survival.
In this extensive interview with the Lviv Herald, Skachko discusses the changing nature of human rights journalism, the difficulties of investigating Russian atrocities, the uncertain prospects for international justice and the dangers of allowing the defence of democracy to become an excuse for abandoning democratic principles. Her answers reveal a thoughtful and sometimes uncomfortable truth: the preservation of a free Ukraine will require the country to scrutinise its own institutions just as rigorously as it condemns the crimes of its enemies.
From local journalism to human rights advocacy
Matthew Parish: Could you begin by telling our readers something about yourself? How did you become a journalist, and what initially attracted you to human rights work?
Iryna Skachko: I started out in the local press, writing about all sorts of subjects, including human rights issues. One example was substitution therapy for people with drug dependence. At that time, if you wanted to write about human rights in Kharkiv, you really couldn't do so without obtaining a comment from the Kharkiv Human Rights Protection Group, which was the leading organisation in the field. That was how I first became familiar with its work.
I then spent ten years as a stay-at-home mother. I have three children, and during that period I also worked part-time online as a freelance copywriter. When I was ready to return to full-time employment, I applied to KHPG. That was eight years ago.
Matthew Parish: Your career in human rights journalism began well before Russia's full-scale invasion in February 2022. How has the nature of your work changed since then?
Iryna Skachko: Before the full-scale invasion, we covered a very wide range of subjects: ill-treatment in penal institutions, discrimination, migration policy, healthcare and many other issues. When the invasion began, our principal objective became documenting war crimes. If you look at the different sections of our website, you will see that the section devoted to the Russo-Ukrainian war now contains by far the largest number of reports.
However, domestic human rights problems have not disappeared simply because there is a war. We just haven't had the resources, particularly the personnel, to cover everything. We are now gradually returning to our traditional, broader range of subjects.
The war has also added a much greater human dimension to our work. We launched a project called Voices of War, in which people share their experiences of loss, captivity, occupation or simply surviving the conditions of war.
Our working arrangements have changed dramatically. The team is scattered across different countries and regions. Some colleagues went to Europe, while others moved elsewhere within Ukraine. We now meet only online. With the generous assistance of our partners, we purchased charging stations for colleagues who remained in Ukraine, but this year the electricity outages have become so prolonged that sometimes even those are insufficient.
Matthew Parish: Kharkiv has endured extraordinary hardship. How has living and working in such circumstances changed your understanding of human resilience and the relationship between individuals and the state?
Iryna Skachko: What I have come to understand is that work, particularly work helping other people, is the best and healthiest way of coping with these conditions. The stories of the people we have written about are truly inspiring. Volunteers, priests, zoo workers, medics, teachers and poets all continue doing what they believe they must do, under enemy attack, day after day and step by step.
One interview that has stayed with me was with Valery Leiko, the director of the Museum of Childhood. During the first months of the full-scale invasion, he went down into metro stations and other underground shelters with one objective: to bring a little happiness to terrified children. For almost three months, he gave them lectures, toys, LEGO and games.
In October 2025, a Russian drone strike badly damaged his museum. Yet Valery continues to work with children.
As for the relationship between individuals and the state, I have been surprised by how readily ordinary citizens organised themselves to help one another. We do not necessarily wait for assistance from the state.
Matthew Parish: Could you explain the history of the Kharkiv Human Rights Protection Group and what distinguishes it from other Ukrainian organisations working in this field?
Iryna Skachko: KHPG began as the Kharkiv branch of Memorial, a historical and human rights organisation. Over time, our emphasis shifted away from historical research towards the protection of human rights.
Today, we provide free legal assistance and represent victims of human rights violations before domestic and international courts. We train activists, lawyers and human rights defenders, and we advocate for legislative reform. KHPG played a part in the abolition of the death penalty in Ukraine. Our journalists report on human rights every day, and now we also document war crimes.
Throughout the organisation's history, our values have included humanism, compassion, tolerance, professionalism, openness, mutual trust, honesty and fearlessness.
I would add something our director, Yevhen Zakharov, likes to say. In his opinion, a human rights defender needs optimism, altruism and a touch of madness. It is partly a joke, but there is also a great deal of truth in it.
What distinguishes us is our long history, our reputation with Ukrainian state institutions and international organisations, the thoroughness of our documentation and our comprehensive support system. We provide civilian victims of war with psychological, legal, medical, charitable and other forms of assistance, often simultaneously.
The challenge of documenting atrocities
Matthew Parish: Much of your recent journalism concerns people who have survived detention, torture and other abuses in Russian custody. How do you approach interviewing people who have undergone such traumatic experiences?
Iryna Skachko: The main principle of our work is do no harm.
When I speak with former prisoners of war, I usually ask very few additional questions, sometimes none at all. I simply allow the person to speak. Some people desperately need to tell their stories. Others want to forget what happened as quickly as possible and get on with their lives. I never insist upon an interview if somebody does not want to talk. No means no.
Reporting on people who remain in Russian captivity is much more complicated.
Even before the war, one of our lawyers told me that she sometimes lay awake at night worrying about her clients, prisoners whose rights were being ruthlessly violated within the Ukrainian penitentiary system. She feared that her interventions might actually make matters worse for the very people who had dared to seek her assistance.
When your own state is violating the law, however, lawyers have at least some mechanisms for monitoring their clients' situations and exerting pressure upon those responsible.
I only truly understood that anxiety after the full-scale invasion began, when we started writing extensively about missing persons, civilians abducted by Russian forces and prisoners of war.
On the one hand, there is an overwhelming desire to tell the world what our people are enduring. On the other, there is the terrifying fear that publishing certain information might worsen their already appalling conditions of captivity or even result in somebody being killed.
We have absolutely no means of monitoring what happens to them or influencing their captors.
As for the reliability of testimony, obviously we cannot verify every detail. Nor can we realistically expect comments from the Russian authorities responsible.
What we can do is compare independent testimonies from people detained in the same facilities. When individuals who do not know one another describe the same guards, the same cells and the same methods of torture, that constitutes compelling evidence.
Matthew Parish: What are the greatest obstacles to collecting evidence of Russian war crimes in occupied territories? Do you believe we have anything approaching a comprehensive picture of the scale of these abuses?
Iryna Skachko: The obstacles are substantial. Russia deliberately conceals information. There is no reliable public access to the relevant data, and proceedings involving Ukrainian civilians and prisoners of war are generally held behind closed doors.
Frequently, even the families of detainees have no idea where their relatives are being held. In international law, this may amount to enforced disappearance.
Families living under occupation are often frightened to contact Ukrainian authorities or human rights organisations because doing so can be extremely dangerous. Russian police and security services examine people's telephones and monitor their social media contacts.
I would therefore say that every category of abuse remains inadequately documented. This includes enforced disappearances, unlawful prosecutions of civilians under the laws of the occupying power, unlawful mobilisation and many other violations.
We will only begin to understand the full extent of what has happened after the war.
Matthew Parish: You have reported on detention facilities in Russia, including Taganrog. Have you identified systematic patterns in the treatment of Ukrainian detainees, and what do these suggest about the purposes of the Russian detention system?
Iryna Skachko: Our findings confirm what many international organisations have already established: Russia employs consistent patterns in its treatment of Ukrainian detainees.
Most are tortured, inadequately fed and denied proper medical care. They are held incommunicado. Many civilians, who under international humanitarian law may be detained only in exceptional circumstances and subject to strict safeguards, simply disappear.
Others are accused of espionage or terrorism and tortured into incriminating themselves. Russian courts and courts operating in occupied territories impose extraordinarily long prison sentences, sometimes extending to life imprisonment.
Ukrainian soldiers are also prosecuted merely for defending their country. Russia denies them the protections associated with prisoner-of-war status, maintaining the fiction that this is not a war but a 'special military operation'.
Prisoners are frequently transferred further and further away from the front line, deep into Russian territory.
I believe the principal purpose of this detention system, like the wider war itself, is to break Ukrainians physically and morally. It is intended to destroy Ukrainian identity and the Ukrainian spirit.
That may sound poetic, but I believe it is true. Russian captors do not merely torture Ukrainian prisoners. They humiliate them, force them to sing the Russian national anthem and compel them to watch propaganda.
Matthew Parish: One of the most distressing consequences of the war is the disappearance of civilians into Russian custody, sometimes without any communication with their families. What can human rights organisations realistically do to trace these people?
Iryna Skachko: The scale of the problem is enormous.
One of our most useful tools is good old-fashioned open-source intelligence. We search for any information we can find on social media, including platforms that operate primarily or exclusively in Russia.
KHPG also submits enquiries to every relevant institution. We interview people who have been released from captivity and carefully examine everything they remember about the other prisoners with whom they were detained.
Sometimes the smallest piece of information can help establish where a missing person might have been held.
Matthew Parish: How effectively do Ukrainian prosecutors, law enforcement agencies and international investigators cooperate with organisations such as yours?
Iryna Skachko: I do not think any law enforcement system in the world could cope easily with such an extraordinary influx of crimes. The Ukrainian authorities are doing as much as they can under extremely difficult circumstances.
Our lawyers cooperate actively with law enforcement agencies on war crimes cases. We coordinate our work with the authorities, who frequently refer victims to us for assistance. There is a substantial exchange of information between us.
Justice, revenge and the limits of international law
Matthew Parish: International institutions, including the International Criminal Court, have been involved in investigating Russian crimes in Ukraine. From your experience, do international legal mechanisms offer victims any meaningful assistance?
Iryna Skachko: The broader effectiveness of international criminal justice is probably a question better directed to our specialists in international law. We have excellent lawyers who deal with these matters.
What I can say from my experience as a journalist is that international human rights procedures can sometimes produce tangible results.
There have been occasions when submitting communications to the United Nations Human Rights Committee or the UN Working Group on Enforced or Involuntary Disappearances has been sufficient to prompt the Russian authorities to respond.
As a result, families have finally received information about where their missing relatives are being held. Even that can mean an enormous amount to people who have spent months or years without knowing what has happened to somebody they love.
Matthew Parish: Establishing that a war crime occurred is one thing. Identifying the people who committed it, and ultimately securing their convictions, is quite another. Have your investigations contributed to identifying individual perpetrators?
Iryna Skachko: Yes. There have been cases in which our lawyers, working with their clients, have identified the people responsible for torturing them.
In one case, it emerged that two of the alleged torturers were already being held in Ukraine as prisoners of war.
We identified a third individual through a photograph published online. His call sign was almost identical to his surname, so identifying him did not take very long.
Our lawyers showed the photograph to the victim, who immediately recognised him and said, 'That's definitely him!'
As far as I know, two of the men have already been convicted.
Identifying and prosecuting higher-ranking commanders is principally the responsibility of the Ukrainian state authorities. We pass on all the information we uncover that may assist their investigations.
Matthew Parish: Many victims may never see the people responsible for their suffering brought to trial. What does justice mean to them? Is criminal punishment always their principal concern?
Iryna Skachko: This is an intensely emotional issue for survivors of war crimes and for people who have lost loved ones. It will remain emotional for a very long time.
Some victims want to see the perpetrators prosecuted through the courts. Others say things such as, 'I want them to go through the same hell we went through,' or 'I don't want any court. I just want them dead.'
We cannot blame people for experiencing such feelings after what they have endured.
An international tribunal may still be a very long way off, and I am afraid that not every victim will live to see justice delivered.
Nevertheless, for many survivors, the belief that a trial will eventually take place and that those responsible will be punished is immensely important. It helps them to survive.
Of course, compensation, rehabilitation and other forms of recognition matter enormously as well.
People must be able to continue living. They need food, somewhere to live and the opportunity to recover their health. Justice cannot be separated entirely from these practical necessities.
Matthew Parish: You have also written critically about the difficulties Ukrainian civilians face in obtaining formal recognition of their experiences following release from Russian captivity. What are the principal shortcomings in the Ukrainian legal system?
Iryna Skachko: Under the current system, obtaining the official status of a person deprived of personal liberty as a result of armed aggression against Ukraine can be extremely difficult for civilians.
In practice, the criteria tend to favour people who were clearly pro-Ukrainian activists, civil servants, journalists or individuals taken hostage.
But you do not have to belong to any of these categories to be detained by Russia.
Under occupation, somebody can be arrested simply for giving what the occupying authorities consider an 'unfriendly look'.
Consequently, many civilians who have survived Russian captivity find it almost impossible to obtain official recognition of what happened to them.
They submit their applications to a special commission, which frequently refuses them without providing an adequate explanation.
Yet this status is extremely important. It provides access to financial assistance, medical rehabilitation and other benefits.
Above all, it represents recognition by the Ukrainian state of the suffering these people have experienced.
The commission has significant problems, particularly a lack of transparency and poor communication with former detainees.
In my opinion, the law should be revised so that civilians detained by Russia are eligible for recognition regardless of whether they were political activists or public figures. The commission should also be obliged to explain its decisions properly and provide effective opportunities for appeal.
Can Ukraine defend democracy without compromising it?
Matthew Parish: Before February 2022, your work included investigating human rights problems within Ukraine itself. Has the war made it more difficult for journalists and human rights organisations to criticise their own government?
Iryna Skachko: Yes, although there are different kinds of restrictions.
Some are obvious and entirely understandable. For example, journalists cannot disclose the locations of Ukrainian military units.
But there is also the question of self-censorship. We do not want to publish material that could be exploited by the enemy.
During the first months, perhaps even the first years, of the full-scale invasion, we frequently refrained from reporting on internal Ukrainian problems.
These included the erosion of democratic practices, irregularities during mobilisation and unjust convictions under legislation concerning collaboration with the occupying authorities.
We would tell ourselves, 'Now is not the time. Russian propagandists will use this against Ukraine.'
But the dividing line between doing no harm and doing harm through silence is extraordinarily thin.
We want Ukraine to remain a democracy. That means we have gradually begun, cautiously, to examine critically what is happening within our own country again.
Matthew Parish: Human rights are supposed to be universal. How should Ukrainian human rights organisations respond to allegations of abuses against Russian prisoners of war, alleged collaborators or other groups who may be deeply unpopular with Ukrainian society?
Iryna Skachko: Justice, rather than blind revenge, must be at the heart of any state governed by the rule of law.
If there are allegations that Russian prisoners of war have been abused, those allegations must be properly investigated.
There are also serious problems concerning people accused of collaboration. Many individuals have been wrongly accused, and Ukrainian civil society organisations are increasingly drawing attention to this issue.
Being suspected of collaboration cannot justify abandoning the principles of justice or the right to a fair assessment of the facts.
Matthew Parish: You have previously spoken about Russians who oppose the invasion and have faced repression by their own government. Is there still a meaningful Russian human rights movement, and might it eventually contribute to reconciliation?
Iryna Skachko: There are certainly brave people in Russia, although perhaps not as many as we hoped there would be when the full-scale invasion began.
Many are now in prison or exile.
Nevertheless, there are Russian journalists and human rights activists who help Ukrainian civilians held in captivity. There are also partisans who risk their lives and Russian volunteers serving in the Ukrainian armed forces.
As for reconciliation, I believe it is too early to discuss that seriously while the war continues.
If reconciliation ever becomes possible, it will begin with people such as these.
But it can only begin after Russia acknowledges the crimes committed in Ukraine.
Matthew Parish: You are both a journalist and a member of an organisation engaged in human rights advocacy. Do these roles ever conflict? How do you maintain journalistic objectivity when reporting on events that provoke such powerful emotions?
Iryna Skachko: I would not say that these roles necessarily conflict.
In human rights work, the other side, which is usually the state, already has numerous ways of communicating its position and defending its actions.
It is the individual whose voice needs to be heard.
As for the war, I do not pretend to be neutral. Like everyone else here, I am living through these events. I am in the middle of the situation, not standing above it.
But a lack of neutrality does not mean a lack of accuracy.
We make a conscious effort not to exaggerate what has happened.
The truth is strong enough on its own.
The human costs that rarely make the headlines
Matthew Parish: Repeatedly listening to accounts of torture, bereavement and extreme cruelty must carry a significant psychological burden. How do you and your colleagues cope with the emotional consequences of this work?
Iryna Skachko: Our organisation has its own team of psychologists.
They primarily assist our clients, including survivors of war crimes and relatives of missing persons, but members of staff can also seek their support.
Personally, I try to switch my attention to something else when I can.
That is not always easy, because the war is still continuing. There is no real distance between the events we document professionally and the circumstances in which we live our own lives.
Matthew Parish: International attention tends to focus upon military developments and diplomatic negotiations. Which aspects of the suffering experienced by people in Kharkiv and the surrounding region do you believe are most frequently overlooked?
Iryna Skachko: There are many issues that do not receive sufficient attention.
Consider the small communities around Kharkiv, where people continue living amid ruins and under constant threat.
There is also the enormous problem of landmines and other explosive contamination, the destruction of forests and the educational losses suffered by children who have spent years studying online rather than attending ordinary schools.
I think many people in Western countries imagine that everything will start improving as soon as the war ends.
I am afraid it will not be nearly so simple.
Recovery will take a very long time.
And there is another point I would make. This war could easily spread further across Europe if Russia is not stopped.
Matthew Parish: Do you think that years of war are changing Ukrainian society's understanding of freedom, individual rights and the powers of the state? Is there a danger that authoritarian practices introduced during wartime could survive into peacetime?
Iryna Skachko: As long as Ukrainian civil society remains strong, I do not believe Ukrainians will allow authoritarian practices to become permanent.
The state will certainly try to retain as much power as possible. That is the nature of states and of political power: they tend to acquire as much authority as they can.
But our political culture is shaped by the Maidan tradition.
We have already defended our freedoms twice, during the Orange Revolution in 2004 and the Revolution of Dignity in 2013–2014.
I believe that history matters. Ukrainians know what it means to resist abuses of political power.
The difficult peace that may follow the war
Matthew Parish: Looking beyond the fighting, what do you believe will be Ukraine's greatest human rights challenges after the war? How can the country reconcile the demand for justice with the necessity of rebuilding a society whose people have experienced the conflict in very different ways?
Iryna Skachko: I believe the greatest challenge will arise from the tension between two equally important needs.
The first is the enormous demand for justice and accountability among people who have survived war crimes or lost loved ones.
The second is the need for Ukrainians to learn to live together again.
We will have people who fought on the front line, people who spent years as refugees abroad and people who lived under Russian occupation. Their experiences will have been very different.
Those who committed war crimes must, of course, be punished.
But people who simply tried to survive under occupation must not automatically be treated as criminals.
Some obtained Russian passports because they had little practical choice. Others continued working because they needed to feed their families.
They are still Ukrainian citizens.
I very much hope that the Ukrainian state will not prosecute people merely for having lived through occupation and done what was necessary to survive.
As for the balance between national security and individual freedoms, I believe that a strong civil society and independent journalism are essential to ensuring that restrictions introduced during wartime remain temporary.
Of course, that assumes there is still a functioning civil society and free journalism left when the war ends.
The defence of freedom begins at home
There is something particularly revealing about Iryna Skachko's understanding of human rights. She does not present them as an abstract collection of legal principles to be invoked selectively against foreign adversaries. For her, they are practical commitments to individuals who may be vulnerable, frightened, unpopular or entirely powerless before the institutions that determine their fate. They apply to Ukrainian civilians imprisoned by Russia, but they also apply to Russian prisoners of war held by Ukraine and to ordinary people who survived occupation without demonstrating the conspicuous political heroism that some bureaucratic procedures appear to demand.
Her observations expose one of the central dilemmas confronting a country fighting for its survival. Ukraine must defend itself against an aggressor that has committed systematic atrocities, yet it must also ensure that the extraordinary powers acquired by the state during wartime do not become permanent features of national life. The temptation to postpone uncomfortable questions until after victory is understandable, particularly when criticism may be appropriated by hostile propaganda. Nevertheless, a democracy cannot indefinitely defer the examination of its own shortcomings without risking damage to the very values it seeks to defend.
Perhaps the most striking aspect of Skachko's testimony is her insistence upon the distinction between neutrality and accuracy. A journalist living in Kharkiv, confronted by the consequences of Russian aggression and working daily with people who have suffered torture or unlawful detention, cannot reasonably be expected to regard the war with emotional indifference. Yet she recognises that the credibility of the victims' accounts, and ultimately the possibility of securing justice for them, depends upon the precision and integrity with which their experiences are recorded.
There is also a quiet warning in her reflections upon the peace that may eventually follow. A cessation of hostilities will not automatically repair devastated communities, restore interrupted childhoods, heal psychological injuries or reconcile Ukrainians whose experiences of the war have differed profoundly. Nor will the legal and moral questions arising from occupation, collaboration, captivity and the exercise of emergency state powers simply disappear when the fighting stops. Some of the most difficult decisions facing Ukraine may only become unavoidable once the immediate threat to national survival has receded.
For all the horrors she documents, Skachko's account is not devoid of optimism. It is grounded in the ordinary people who continue to help one another despite bombardment, displacement and exhaustion: teachers, doctors, volunteers, museum directors and countless others who refuse to allow war to dictate the entirety of their existence. Their example suggests that a free society is sustained not merely by constitutions, courts and government institutions, but by citizens who believe that they have responsibilities towards one another.
The future of Ukrainian democracy will depend upon whether that civic spirit survives the war and remains sufficiently independent to hold the country's institutions accountable. In this respect, the work of journalists and human rights defenders such as Iryna Skachko is not peripheral to Ukraine's struggle for freedom. It is part of the struggle itself.
And her most memorable observation deserves to stand as a principle for journalism in wartime and beyond: the truth is strong enough on its own.
Matthew Parish is the Editor-in-Chief of the Lviv Herald. Iryna Skachko is a journalist with the Kharkiv Human Rights Protection Group. This interview was conducted in English, and has been edited for clarity, style and readability while preserving the substance of the responses.
