The Heavenly Hundred: Portraits From the Barricades

Eleven years ago, in the heart of Kyiv, photojournalist Jakub Szymczuk found himself in a spot where history was unfolding violently before the eyes of the world. The Euromaidan protests had begun to take a tragic turn. On the morning of Feb. 20, 2014, Interior Ministry troops massacred scores of protesters, now referred to as the Heavenly Hundred. The events that Szymczuk recorded led directly to the Revolution of Dignity’s culmination, with Moscow-backed President Viktor Yanukovych hastily fleeing Ukraine.

On that day, Russia’s ongoing war against Ukraine began in earnest.

As the official photographer for President Andrzej Duda, Szymczuk also became a witness to other significant events in modern Ukraine. In an interview with Kyiv Post, he shares the moments that his camera lens couldn’t capture.

Michał Kujawski: You received the Photo of the Year award from Grand Press Photo for a picture taken during the Euromaidan. What was that photo?

Jakub Szymczuk: It was a photo taken from the front barricade on Instytutska Street, now known as the Heavenly Hundred Street. Anatoliy Zhalovaha, one of the Maidan heroes, was shot there. He was running to throw a tire onto the barricade. They were set on fire to create a smoke screen protecting protesters as well as medics from snipers.

I didn’t see the exact moment he was shot, but out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him collapsing. He was pulled to the spot where I was standing – right at my feet. I did what I was there for – I took a picture of the situation.

His companion, whom Anatoliy had met that very day, dragged him behind the barricade to where I was with two Italian photojournalists. The entire photo report from Black Thursday was awarded. Those were a few very intense hours.

MK: How did Euromaidan look through your eyes? On the one hand, you were a participant, but on the other, you were a journalist, a photojournalist – an observer.

JS: It was a big shock. I did have a bulletproof vest, but that was just a precaution. I was there with a Polish team, representatives of various media outlets. In hindsight, it was quite an unusual group – journalists from across the political spectrum.

We were staying in a multi-room apartment rented near Maidan, constantly in touch with one another. At one point, a friend of mine, who was on Maidan, called me and said gunshots could be heard. I rushed there immediately. Instytutska Street, as it was called then, runs uphill toward the Presidential Palace – the protesters wanted to move toward it. The Berkut and security forces were trying to block them to keep Yanukovych safe and allow for a possible evacuation.

As I ran uphill, I saw the first victims being carried away, shot in the head and carotid artery. Attempts were made to resuscitate them, but the wounds were fatal. Moments later, I found myself at the front barricade, where the situation described in my award-winning photo took place.

MK: You went to Kyiv for Maidan expecting to photograph mass protests, not a bloody event and a historic moment, didn’t you?

JS: I was preparing for what had happened in December 2013 – large, mass protests. I expected tear gas, beatings, and brutal suppression of demonstrations, but not people being executed. I never imagined that the authorities would be gunning people down in the streets.

MK: That was the beginning of the ongoing war with Russia. Withing days, the issue of Russian-led separatists and the “little green men” in Crimea, Luhansk, and Donbas. That wasn’t your last experience with this war and Ukraine. On Feb. 23, 2022, on the eve of the full-scale invasion, you were in Kyiv as part of the Polish delegation and a photographer for President Andrzej Duda. You took the last photo of President Zelensky in a suit. What was the atmosphere like?

JS: Most likely, I took the last official photo of President Zelensky in a suit. Perhaps his photographer took others that were never made public. Even then, everyone was prepared for a possible evacuation, though it ultimately didn’t happen. Nevertheless, they were already dressed and ready for such a scenario. I heard this from one of the diplomats.

At the end of our visit, President Zelensky said goodbye to President Duda. It wasn’t an ordinary farewell – it was different. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but I was close enough to see that they were parting as if one of them might never return.

MK: What was the visit to Kyiv like?

JS: We traveled in a very large convoy of vehicles – moving at high speed. There were special forces units, technical and medical vehicles – not just regular ambulances. Special forces operatives and military medics were with us. Our delegation had an entire lane on the road reserved. We knew what was about to happen – or at least, our security services definitely did. You could feel that we were part of something truly significant.

In Kyiv, the presidents held one-on-one meetings. At the same time, the then-Polish presidential minister, Jakub Kumoch, met with his Ukrainian counterpart. After that, there was a break before the official lunch. President Duda paused by the fireplace with a coffee in hand when the minister approached him and whispered something. I captured that moment in a photo. Later, I heard from Minister Kumoch that this was a very important picture – because in that very moment, which I captured in the photograph, the Polish president learned that the invasion was about to begin. Hours later, we left Kyiv.

MK: You mentioned that the farewell between Presidents Zelensky and Duda was different from other such farewells. I remember the fears in the first days of the invasion – that Russian columns would roll into the center of Kyiv. Today, we see Ukraine heroically defending itself. What emotions were you experiencing on the ground at that time?

JS: We were fully aware that these were extraordinary moments, and the emotions we felt were extreme. We were afraid that in just a moment, Russian Iskanders [ballistic missiles] would be flying over our heads. And in a way, they were – Russian special forces landed in Hostomel airport. Fortunately, the attack was repelled. As for emotions, in a way, it was similar to Euromaidan – the adrenaline rush somewhat narrowed that emotional tunnel. I actually felt much more emotional watching the invasion unfold from home after returning to Poland. When you’re on the ground, primal survival instincts kick in, suppressing emotions.

MK: You spent seven years working as the official photographer of Polish President Andrzej Duda. You witnessed many important and historic moments. Besides Euromaidan and the beginning of the invasion, what else has stayed with you the most?

JS: I felt that photographing certain moments would place an emphasis on them. That was sometimes a burden for me – after all, technical issues can always happen, a camera can fail. But the stress from that actually motivated me. Most of the events you’re asking about happened after the invasion had already begun. There were regular visits by world leaders to Poland, meetings, and trips to the White House. The most significant event for me was the visit to the Verkhovna Rada, where Presidents Duda and Zelensky delivered speeches. Polish and Ukrainian flags were displayed. That’s when I took a photo of President Duda making a double victory sign. I took a bit of a risk there – if I had gone to the designated spot for photographers, where we were being directed, I wouldn’t have gotten that shot. At best, I would have taken a standard gallery photo. Instead, I went a different way. Armed soldiers were guarding everything. I slipped through a side door, and with the help of someone from the Ukrainian president’s office, I managed to get through and capture that emotional moment and the gestures that accompanied it. I felt that I had to do it – it was important.

MK: You’ve witnessed many historic moments in Kyiv. Do you have any personal observations about the city?

JS: I’ve always liked Kyiv – it felt like a fusion of East and West. Architecturally monumental, but more “ours” than Western metropolises, and not as cold or imperial as Eastern cities. To me, Kyiv was always full of life – street musicians everywhere, small cafés, but without the pretentiousness you might find in France, for example. But the city has changed. After the annexation of Crimea, but before the full-scale invasion, it slowly became quieter – until it felt almost deserted. When I was there as part of a delegation with Minister [Marcin] Przydacz in 2023, after the invasion had begun, we visited an exhibition of destroyed Russian tanks near St. Michael’s Golden-Domed Monastery. It was fairly warm, life was gradually returning, but it wasn’t the same. You could feel the sadness and pain in the city. A lot of its human charm had faded.

More of Jakub Szymczuk’s photos can be viewed here.

Below are more pictures by Jakub Szymczuk: