Ask -

I want the U.S. to leave NATO. Do you?

There is no real ceasefire inside Iran. This is Mohseni Ejei, the head of the judiciary. He has ordered courts to accelerate execution sentences, especially for protesters. Hundreds of professors are on the death row, waiting to be hanged. Do not stop talking about Iran.

Just a thought: Ukraine’s President is Jewish. Our Defense Minister is a Muslim, a Crimean Tatar. The Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces is an ethnic Russian. Our top drone ace — recently awarded the title Hero of Ukraine — is an ethnic Hungarian. Over 70,000 women serve in the military now. Almost all of the most renowned combat medics are women. The revolution that changed this country forever began with a Facebook post by an ethnic Afghan Pashtun, a prominent Ukrainian journalist. And in our parliament, we have a Black MP — an Afro-Ukrainian and universally admired Olympic champion. All of this — in a country that is still, for the most part, Slavic. On the streets of Kyiv today, you’ll see halal restaurants for Muslim tourists standing peacefully next to Jewish eateries. Nearby are a museum and a monument to Sholem Aleichem, and a plaque bearing the face of Golda Meir, who once lived here. Among our main landmarks: 19th-century synagogues. Just a short walk away — a large mosque and Muslim cultural center. And above all, of course — the ancient Christian churches and monasteries that are the oldest and most significant in the East Slavic world. I still can’t get over the fact that Ukraine’s chief Muslim mufti (an ethnic Tatar from Donetsk) stepped down to serve as a frontline paramedic in the army. That our chief rabbi works tirelessly every day to help Ukraine across the globe — and that his adopted son died fighting for Ukraine, weapon in hand. For many years now, a giant glowing menorah has stood each Hanukkah in the heart of Kyiv’s main square. And on Independence Day, every religious denomination gathers in Saint Sophia Cathedral to offer prayers for Ukraine, each in their own rite. Just as they all come together for remembrance at Babyn Yar and the Holodomor monument. The more you look at the world, the more often you realize how much healthier Ukrainian society has become when it comes to coexistence between nationalities and faiths. We weren’t always like this. We are becoming this now — as the country is being radically transformed by revolution and by the defense against imperial Russia. We are shedding the weight of so many remnants of the past — really fast. Just recently in May, Ukraine held its WWII commemorations — with poppies and the slogan “Never again!” What a stark contrast to the satanic frenzy of Russia’s “Victory Day,” with its death cult, its “We can do it again!” bravado, and its glorification of dying for the Tsar. Against the backdrop of war, Ukraine is living through a real national and cultural renaissance. We are rediscovering the Ukrainian language, Ukrainian books, music, cinema — as something precious. And for how many decades were we taught to look down on everything Ukrainian — as “third-rate,” “peasant,” “inferior”?... I walk the streets of Kyiv on Christmas (December 25th, not January 7th as demanded by Moscow priests) and see bands of children in traditional embroidered clothes carrying colorful Bethlehem stars and singing carols. “Ukrainian Christmas” is returning to these lands as a vibrant cultural tradition. On Easter, crowds gather near Saint Sophia Cathedral for picnics and spring dances. In the old city above Podil, I often hear youth pounding out Cossack songs on drums. I always see many people at our nation’s sacred places — the Kyiv Pechersk Lavra, the cathedrals of Lviv, the Motherland Monument, the old castles. We haven’t suddenly become devout believers. We’ve simply come to take pride, like never before, in being Ukrainian — in treasuring our traditions, our culture, our history, and our way of life, in our own country. New traditions keep being born in wartime, against all odds. Today, we honor war veterans by inviting them to make the symbolic first kick at football matches — and then we give them a standing ovation from the stands, for their service. I could go on like this for hours. What I’m trying to say is — I love what Ukraine is becoming. This hope — breaking through unspeakable pain and hardship — feels like a light piercing the tunnel. Ukraine now, and Ukraine 12 years ago, are two completely different countries. The road ahead is brutally hard, but if only — if only our Ukraine can survive this war for its very existence.