The news about the cessation of Ukrainian-language broadcasting by Voice of America has elicited both painful surprise and anxiety. In the realm of respected international broadcasters, an important beacon has gone dark—one that for many decades carried unbiased information to places where other voices were muted. It feels as if a beloved relative suddenly ended up in the hospital with a severe stroke, and the doctors only shrug—he may never walk again.
VOA traditionally positioned itself as a classical broadcaster, with traditions most firmly cemented during the Cold War era and the battle for the hearts and minds of those who were denied access to open information. For many Ukrainian journalists, it was a model of unclouded standards, symbolizing freedom and the right to speak out about things that, under the Soviets, would have led to imprisonment without a second thought. Plenty of well-known media figures still recall with reverence the time they could intern, work, or in some way be connected with Voice of America. However, many now raise a perfectly fair question: did this outlet manage to modernize sufficiently to earn a new wave of trust in the age of social media and digital technologies?
“Western voices” played an extraordinarily influential role in Ukrainian society during the nation’s formative and maturing years. Moreover, Ukrainians still tend to rely on broad-based support, believing that the American government guarantees independence and professional coverage of events about and for Ukraine. Yet the abrupt disappearance of the broadcaster confronts the public with a rather uncomfortable fact: “now we have to fill the niche ourselves.” But no mechanism exists today to fill that vacuum.
Once upon a time, Soviet authorities used an array of methods—from specialized “jamming” devices to repressions against those caught “listening to propaganda.” Today, one would think times are utterly different—no one can physically jam the internet or a satellite signal—yet the problem of vanishing truthful voices remains as acute as ever. Instead of strict censorship and persecutions, we now see methods of financial pressure, political maneuvering, and unilateral orders from above. Hence the main paradox: a single instantaneous decision has produced the very effect that no totalitarian regime had been able to achieve for decades.
There is another painful truth here: Ukraine still has extremely few truly independent and professional media capable of providing audiences with high-quality information. Certainly, over the years of independence, a new generation of journalists and analysts has grown up, yet a significant portion of national outlets remains under the sway of financial-political groups, including the direct influence of the Office of the President of Ukraine. War has endangered not only journalistic standards but also the role of the media as society’s watchdog. Thus, in the context of VOA’s shutdown, a particularly pressing question arises: is there sufficient understanding, resources, and determination to build fully fledged domestic media outlets?
A reliable source of information inevitably requires financial stability. The absence of funding is the first step into the trap of “bias,” and thus a tool to manipulate the information sphere. That is why many editorial teams are trying to implement modern monetization approaches: from crowdfunding and subscription models to government grants with transparent reporting and proper checks and balances. Media independence now depends on multiple sources of income, but creating such a model in the face of economic challenges and a longstanding tradition of free access to information is a challenge of cosmic proportions.
Turbulent times invariably trigger the emergence of new projects. For instance, the Vilni Media platform was set up by Ukrainians in California specifically to offer the diaspora a genuine portrayal of itself, share news of the large pan-American community, and forge it into a cohesive unit. This is just one example of how an information vacuum galvanizes volunteers, entrepreneurs, and activists to unite. Local outlets, specialized blogging platforms—sometimes amateur and underfunded, but extraordinarily sincere—are springing up, aiming to tell the world about Ukraine. Although these ventures often lack professional experience or sufficient funds, they can become “laboratories” of new media formats, laying the groundwork for truly independent and diverse Ukrainian journalism.
In this context, citizens-observers become participants in the process. Merely noting the disappearance or absence of media outlets amounts to silent acquiescence in the degradation of the information space. Yet there is another way to take part: signing up for paid content, making a financial donation, simply sharing quality articles, or giving honest feedback to editors. People often do not realize how valuable each click or repost can be: even minimal support may prove decisive, and the larger the circle of informed readers grows, the greater the prospects for a sustainable future for free media.
Finally, the situation with Voice of America, despite its sad undertone, may still prompt Ukrainian (and other) societies to reassess their own media reality. The main character, having endured a severe loss, often finds within it the impetus for personal growth. Perhaps Ukrainians will soon be seeking their own voice more deliberately—one that is flexible, readily understood by today’s audience, and ultimately independent. In the end, Ukraine and Ukrainians must shape their own informational landscape. Its weight is no less significant than the state’s physical borders, given that it is guided by freedom of choice. And when we begin diligently and consistently to build this space ourselves, we gain a profound sense of responsibility and a certainty that our voice will remain ours forever.
Author: Lukian Selskyi