Street protests against Zelensky's sacking of popular defence minister suggest Ukrainian democracy alive and perhaps well

  LVIV -- A piece of cardboard. Here in Ukraine, that is the symbol of one of the country's greatest democratic freedoms -- a simple piece of cardboard, found everywhere, on which anyone can freely and publicly express what they think. Among the crowds gathering for demonstrations these days in Lviv, Kyiv and other cities, there are no giant placards bearing coordinated slogans, no banners from trade associations, apparently no organisation or political party leading the protests.

 Instead, messages spread through social media. People arrange to meet on Telegram channels, grab a piece of cardboard from the kitchen, and head into the streets. Once there, they pass marker pens from hand to hand, writing clear, direct messages for the country's political leaders to read.

 This arguably is the precious legacy of the Euromaidan protests, which began on the evening of Nov.21, 2013, when the Ukrainian journalist Mustafa Nayyem, disillusioned by President Viktor Yanukovych's decision to suspend the signing of the Association Agreement with the European Union under pressure from the Kremlin, wrote on Facebook: "All right, let's get serious. Who is ready to come to Maidan before midnight today? Likes don't count. The only thing that counts is comments under this post saying: 'I'm ready.' As soon as there are more than a thousand of us, we'll get organised."

 The rest is history. It is the history of a generation of young Ukrainians demanding dignity at the top of their voices. Most were born — and all grew up — in a free and democratic country, where that piece of cardboard came to represent one simple idea -- that people have the right to change things.

 "Change or die!" reads one cardboard sign held aloft in the crowd on Freedom Avenue in Lviv. Because today, more than ever, if Ukraine fails to keep evolving — and to do so quickly — people die. They die every single day. And it is never an anonymous name you read in the newspaper the following morning. It is your brother, your mother, your friends. It is you, a soldier on the front line, whose life depends on decisions made at the highest levels.

 "Reforms, not backroom deals!" the crowd chants.

 The mass demonstrations that  have swept cities across Ukraine in recent days, triggered by the removal of Mykhailo Fedorov from the post of Minister of Defence following President Volodymyr Zelenskyy's latest cabinet reshuffle, have brought to the forefront an issue that goes far beyond a single appointment -- the definitive dismantling of the systems of control and corruption inherited from the Soviet era that continue to permeate parts of the governing establishment. For many Ukrainians, this is not an abstract ideal but a practical necessity. They believe those old practices have failed — and that overcoming them is essential if Ukraine is to defeat the Russian aggressor once and for all.

 Born in 1991, the year Ukraine gained its independence, Fedorov became Minister for Digital Transformation in 2019. He belongs to the generation shaped by Maidan, convinced that citizens have the right to change their country. The technological innovation he has introduced into the military sector — helping to transform the way wars are fought — is perhaps the clearest expression of this profound change in mindset, built on the principles of transparency and meritocracy.

Those principles clash with what many demonstrators see as the approach embodied by General Oleksandr Syrskyi, Commander-in-Chief of Ukraine's Armed Forces and one of the key architects of the 2022 counter-offensives around Kyiv, Kharkiv and Kherson.

 The confrontation between Fedorov and Syrskyi had been simmering for months. It was a difficult balance for President Zelenskyy to maintain. In the end, he made what many regard as the most unpopular choice by removing Fedorov.

 "Damn Syrskyi!" reads the cardboard sign held by a young woman wearing a pink T-shirt. Many Ukrainians associate General Syrskyi with an outdated approach to managing the armed forces, one they believe has been marked by corruption and favouritism. One of the main points of contention has been the increasingly harsh recruitment practices adopted by the Territorial Centres for Recruitment and Social Support (TCRSS) following his appointment as Commander-in-Chief, driven in part by the urgent need to send more men to the front.

 "Young men are afraid to move freely around the city, especially if their paperwork isn't in order and they risk being forcibly mobilised. We feel like slaves," says Andrii. "And I think Fedorov would improve the situation."

 "Error: common sense not found," reads another cardboard sign.

 It belongs to Luba, an influencer with 135,000 followers on Instagram, who is attending the protest with her partner, Sviat, and their young son in a stroller.

 "Politicians have no strategy whatsoever for involving us in public life," Luba says. "Society has changed. Technology is a real game changer, but politics doesn't speak with us; it simply informs us of its decisions.

 "We want to win this war while saving as many lives as possible. And if that is what Fedorov's work has been achieving, then we want him to remain in government.

 "We're also worried about our soldiers," she adds. "They can't speak out or be here today, but they're sending us messages supporting Fedorov. We're here for them too."

 Many people will find it easy to judge what is happening in Ukraine today through the lens of their own political beliefs. But one fact rises above every political interpretation: even in the midst of war, democracy in Ukraine can still be said to be alive.

 In Kyiv, Lviv, Kharkiv, Dnipro, Odesa, Lutsk, Rivne, Chernivtsi, Poltava and many other cities, every evening at 7 p.m., car horns begin to sound and people gather in the streets, free to assert their right to change things.

 "Dad, why are the grown-ups standing with signs again?" reads the cardboard held by Luba's son.

 "My son," replies the one held by Sviat, "your marker pens are making democracy."

 jp-fm