When War Sings: Ziferblat, Basel, and the Voice of Freedom from Ukraine

The world is stable: if it’s May, that means Ukraine is taking part in Eurovision, no matter where it’s held. Even if there’s a war at home. Even if missiles come more often than likes under a new track.

This time, the stage is in Basel. Switzerland—neutrality, beauty, clocks, and chocolate. And in the hall—the Ukrainian delegation with a flag, hope, and a couple of hidden traces of anxiety under their eyes. The artist comes on stage and sings. A voice rings out, lyrics about strength, freedom, love. Behind the scenes—journalists, camera flashes, applause. And somewhere, at the same time, a “Shahed” hits Chernihiv.

How is this possible?

Very simply. This is Ukraine. A country where people fight and live at the same time. Where you can be both a hero at the front and a hero on TikTok. Where reality split in two long ago, but instead of choosing one side—people walk both.

Boxers fight at world championships. Footballers score at the Euros. And artists perform at international contests while someone from their team sits in a basement, checking if their hometown has been hit.

This isn’t fake. This isn’t “we’re being deceived.” This is survival.

Imagine that life is a radio. And you switch channels between “explosion in Kharkiv” and “Eurovision rehearsal.” Not because you’ve lost your mind. But because there’s no other way.

Body armor and sequins. Bandage pack and microphone. Siren and light show. All of this is part of one country that has learned not just to survive, but to live in spite of everything. And to sing, so as not to lose your mind. So the world doesn’t forget. So the enemy gets a nervous tic from the fact that the Ukrainian voice is heard even against the backdrop of artillery fire.

Ukraine is not a parallel reality. It’s hyperreality. Where pain doesn’t cancel out the song. And the song doesn’t distract from the pain. It just goes alongside. As it should in a country where even war is already singing.

And yes, let Ziferblat stand on the Basel stage. Let their voice tremble not from nerves, but from real depth. But it sounds. Freely. Honestly. And that’s already a victory.