Watching the Olympics in Ukraine

The Olympics look different from different places, depending, for example, on whether your viewing might be interrupted by an air raid siren or your electricity cut by a missile attack.

It is a rough Olympics, seen from Ukraine. War is an everyday reality, touching everything. Russia began a full-scale invasion of Ukraine right after the last Winter Olympics, so four years ago, and has killed hundreds of Ukrainian athletes.

Vladyslav Heraskevych, the Ukrainian skeleton racer, was disqualified from these Olympics for wearing a helmet on which photographs of some of these athletes could be seen. Heraskevych, along with the freestyle skier Kateryna Kotsar, was one of the best hopes for a medal. Ukrainians have won no medals at these games and are unlikely to do so.

I am working all day here in Uzhhorod, and try to catch a few minutes of the sports at night. The Ukrainian network Suspilne has an appealing wrap-up show, with gentle production values. Placed in front of one the commentators, for example, is a laptop with a visible sticker — something hard to imagine on other national networks.

The quirkiness is calming. In the Ukrainian wartime setting, I associate traditional production values with the propaganda of criminal invasions, with the Russian television I have to watch. The Russians distinguish themselves on their state-controlled channels with sparkling backdrops and horrifying lies, whereas the Ukrainians sometimes scramble on the set but provide actual reporting.

The tone of the Ukrainian Olympic coverage is humane. Like other national commentators, the Ukrainians pay attention to their own athletes. But they do a better job than some of explaining the sports, of dwelling on the funny moments, of keeping things in perspective. Hockey fights and little scandals get abundant and amused attention. Commentators and correspondents seem unscripted, and they laugh spontaneously. A sign language interpreter brings the the banter to a broader audience.

And so, ironically, when I watch the Ukrainians covering sports, I can think about the sports. I get to have that distraction, that pleasure, that moment.

And this, of course, is what Ukrainians are doing for many of the rest of us, on a vast scale, the scale of life itself: buying us time, buying us moments, with their pain, with their lives.

I am watching right now, but many Ukrainians are not, because they have no electricity. During the Olympics, indeed all winter long, and ...