"We're back": Azov serviceman Oleksandr Laptii on S.T.A.L.K.E.R. 2, the spirit of Polissia, and Azov drones over Mariupol

However advanced modern weapons systems become, the most important thing always has been and always will be the spirit. "That's what we should rely on first and foremost, and only then, of course, on modern technology," says Oleksandr Laptii.

The 52-year-old Azov serviceman is referring to that very ancient, traditional fighting spirit which the Russian Empire has always tried to destroy in everyone born on Ukrainian lands.

Oleksandr Laptii is a theatre and film actor and director who appeared in the video game S.T.A.L.K.E.R. 2: Heart of Chornobyl. His voice, physicality and real-life appearance brought one of the main characters in the world created by Ukraine's GSC Game World – the mercenary Shram (Scar) – to life.

A fan of Ukrainian underground culture and Eastern martial arts as far back as 2014, Laptii, who is from Chernihiv, volunteered to join the military with none of the reflections or discussions about motivation that are so fashionable today.

"I learned about that word and its meaning sometime in the 2000s," Oleksandr recalls. "I grew up in a different paradigm, where concepts like duty and discipline matter. That's what pushes a person towards serious decisions and action."

In this interview with Ukrainska Pravda, the Azov serviceman talks about remarkable Ukrainians, the magic of Polissia – a region of marshes and forests in Ukraine's north – and the interplay of technology and tradition in modern warfare. He also discusses the benefits and dangers of video games and how a new military is being shaped by a generation with a gamer mentality.

"We didn't accept socialist realism"

I'm 52 years old. I lived through the late Soviet period and the collapse of the Soviet Union, the birth of independent Ukraine, the emergence of the internet, and all these technological leaps from push-button phones to smartphones. So I believe I have a unique life experience.

People who lived in the USSR were usually oriented towards the one single capital. There was one major city and everything else was considered provincial, and that shaped the mentality. But we [in Chernihiv – UP] felt we were so deep in the provinces that Moscow was simply out of reach (he smiles). So I grew up in a situation where there was no point in orienting yourself towards something that was fundamentally unattainable.

In the early 1990s, Russians in the media began working hard to create a post-Soviet imperial culture. But I took my inspiration from Yurii Andrukhovych, Yurko Izdryk, Bu-Ba-Bu, Foa-Hoka [a Ukrainian underground music band – ed.] and the Ukrainian underground – all of that was incredibly powerful. Thanks to them, it was possible to resist Russia's information pressure and not fall hostage to it, and even to feel proud that in some areas we outdid Moscow.

In my family, there were no celebrations without singing. My parents could harmonise quite well – at an amateur level, let's say. We didn't speak standard Ukrainian at home, but what they call northern surzhyk [a mixture of Ukrainian and Russian – ed.]. But my identity as a Ukrainian has been there since childhood. My birth certificate – a little green booklet – states that I am Ukrainian and so are my parents. My Soviet passport also identified me as Ukrainian. This is documented, and there could be no disputes about it.

My interest in martial arts began with the "video salons" [small and very basic private "cinemas" that showed dubbed pirate movies] during perestroika. I used to watch several films a day featuring Bruce Lee and Jean-Claude Van Damme, and I fell in love with this culture of movement and body control, so different from Soviet boxing or wrestling. The applied aspect, and then some philosophical foundation, came later. I've practised martial arts since the late 1980s, and for me they remain a clear and convenient system of physical activity that helps maintain both physical and mental health

All photos: Oleksandr Laptii on Facebook and Instagram

Whenever I visited my grandmother, who lived in a village in the north of Chernihiv Oblast, I would sense the magic of Polissia. Life there is based on a blend of Christianity and folk traditions. I remember being bitten by a dog and developing a deep fear of dogs, and my grandma took me to see the whisperers – folk healers, almost witches. They performed strange rituals. To this day, it remains a mystery to me how all this coexists with Christianity and Orthodoxy.

The worldview in the north of Chernihiv Oblast is based on the idea that nature is a living being. There are vast black forests there – black because they are so incredibly dense. And in those forests, dark, evil forces are believed to dwell.

When you grow up surrounded by all this, it shapes your mind with a tendency towards metaphor, symbolism, metaphysics. For the people there, this is organic – it's part of their nature. That is why I say that in Sivershchyna we did not accept socialist realism, either in art or in our perception of existence (laughs).

There is and always has been something beyond you – forces that are beyond your control and even beyond your understanding.

There's no "save button" in war

Back in the mid-1980s, someone brought a game into school based on the Soviet cartoon "Nu, pogodi!" ("Just you wait!") – this little electronic device with buttons where the wolf catches eggs in a basket. This boy had a business mindset: he'd let you have a go for ten kopecks. The queue stretched down the corridor.

Among our first "computer games" were Soviet arcade machines in cinemas. I remember my mum once gave me one karbovanets [the former Ukrainian currency – ed.] to buy exercise book covers, and I blew it all. I got a massive telling-off when I came home, but I was really happy I'd managed to play Sea Battle to my heart's content.

Later there were consoles – Dendy, PlayStation. And then, with the arrival of home computers, I played Medal of Honour and Call of Duty – my favourite series.

From the perspective of philosophy, political science and other academic disciplines, the question of the impact of video games on modern humans is a complex one. I don't have the expertise to claim to be an authority on it. But I can't deny the significance of gaming culture nowadays. People who grew up within it are joining the military. Their minds have been shaped through intense interaction with what we call the gaming world.

It's a distinct kind of consciousness with its own algorithms and way of perceiving reality. I know a man who commanded a tank platoon in 2014 with no formal military education. He'd levelled up his skills – tactics, strategy, tank combat – playing World of Tanks, you see?

Every phenomenon has its negative aspects. They might emerge when someone goes to war thinking it will be like a game. But war at the front is real. There's no save button. There's no rolling back, no levelling up, no healing, no extra lives if you end up in a serious fight.

If a person doesn't understand this, it becomes a problem.

Modern technology enables you to fight at a distance; it provides a certain optics where the enemy is viewed through a screen. This shapes your perception of combat and of the enemy. But in warfare, however modern it is, there's no substitute for infantry – and the infantry are extraordinary people who move into positions under fire from drones and hold them. They have no illusions: it is definitely not a game for them, because real death is just a metre or two away.

Coming home

However advanced modern technologies become, whatever their aesthetics or form, the essence remains unchanged – the fighting spirit. That's what we should rely on first and foremost, and only then on weapons.

Some soldiers are inspired by Norse mythology, others draw strength from the Cossack era, the Ukrainian Sich Riflemen or the fighters of the Ukrainian Insurgent Army (UPA). Some look up to the "nineties generation" – people like Sashko Bilyi [a Ukrainian political activist – ed.] and his comrades who fought in Abkhazia and Chechnya. And some are inspired by anime (smiles). There are a lot of young soldiers who watch Naruto and identify with anime heroes while carrying out remarkable military actions.

What matters is always the essence, the core, not the form. The Russian Empire tried for centuries to destroy this gene we have – our fighting spirit – and erase the martial element from people's consciousness. They understood that Ukrainians could not be broken if they continued to cultivate this warrior spirit.

War is becoming increasingly technological. With my ancient "hardware" from 1974 [the year he was born – UP], I probably can't fully comprehend how quickly everything is evolving. I can upgrade certain skills, do a sort of update, but I remain an analogue person, and my consciousness is analogue. Mentally, I'm too old for this technological leap.

For centuries, our lands were home to warrior peoples with highly developed adaptive skills, to put it in modern parlance. They possessed the ability to adapt quickly to threats and find solutions in extreme circumstances.

Look at how the Cossacks developed their methods of warfare and how much they contributed to European military history and military science. Or think of the spirit of the Sich Riflemen and the fighters of the UPA, who pioneered small-unit tactics, various forms of camouflage, and underground communication networks. The deeper you delve into this history, the prouder you feel. Yet the enemy deliberately conceals these achievements or attempts to claim them as their own.

Today, our service members are finding solutions in situations that appear utterly hopeless, making you think: "Wow, that's incredible!" It genuinely sends shivers down your spine. As someone involved in culture, I often feel like applauding as if I were in a theatre – applauding their courage and their ability to think outside the box.

I've watched with immense admiration as our guys have gradually been establishing drone control over Donetsk Oblast. I've talked to people who defended Mariupol back in 2014, people who left the Azovstal steelworks, people who survived the Olenivka prison camp and returned from captivity – for them, everything that's happening now feels like coming home. Their eyes light up as they say: "We're back!" And this is yet another reason to admire what's been achieved: the creation of an entirely new structure and the development of technical capabilities that make it possible to monitor and disrupt enemy logistics over such vast distances.

We have to be smarter

Your attitude towards the enemy is always a complex issue in the moment. It takes time to reflect on it properly and formulate a coherent understanding, and you need to be able to look back with some distance. But when it comes to the enemy, one thing is certain from the outset: you must never underestimate them. Underestimation is the road to defeat.

We are dealing with a formidable force. And as someone involved in the arts, I understand that in the cultural sphere as well, the Russians are investing considerable effort in creating a positive image of their country in spite of the catastrophic and criminal things they have done to our state, my brothers-in-arms, our fellow citizens and my own family.

This winter, a Shahed drone struck beneath my balcony. I was at home with my child, and it was a miracle that we survived unharmed. When you're in an emotional state, caught up in the excitement and intensity of action, your attitude to the enemy corresponds to that. But with time comes distance. You regain control over your emotions, and you start to analyse the situation. The enemy is ruthless and will use every available means to destroy you. So we need to construct our lives, strategy and development accordingly.

I can't speak for the entire military, but the Azov First Corps of the National Guard of Ukraine has a cultural and arts department, HUB 4308, which supports our service members who want to express themselves creatively. A book recently came out by one of my brothers-in-arms, Roman Zakrevskyi, who wrote a substantial amount of original material entirely from scratch. We're also currently involved in a joint project with the Franko Theatre, "Odyssey. Maeotis" – a friend of mine who goes by the alias "Kultura" is playing one of the roles. We are trying to find language and creative tools that will resonate with young people and help shape their worldview free of Russian influence

If we ever reach a point where our relationship with the Russians is no longer defined by war, but in terms of culture and the arts, we will need to find new tools and not just be shouting "I hate you!" We have to be smarter and more cunning than they are if we are to prevail on the "cultural front", although that's not a term I'm particularly fond of. We must do everything possible to withstand and repel their relentless waves of propaganda and cultural influence – not just here in Ukraine, but in other European countries as well.

The Russians still have significant financial resources and highly skilled propaganda experts. I don't think everyone fully appreciates just how professional they are. As [Ukrainian filmmaker and soldier] Oleh Sentsov once said during a court hearing: "If I didn't know the reality and only watched your television, I'd believe it too."

Russian propaganda genuinely works. It is still present within our media landscape and continues its destructive efforts, preventing us from fully developing a distinctly Ukrainian consciousness.

Stalker

The release of the first S.T.A.L.K.E.R. video game was a revelation for me. I became an instant fan. The subject of the Chornobyl disaster is very close to my heart, because I remember 26 April 1986.

What impressed me was that the developers had taken this tragic event and built a unique universe around it, creating an atmosphere so compelling that it completely draws you in. It got me so hooked that I started writing plays and literary sketches, reread the works of [Polish writer Stanisław] Lem and became passionate about science fiction. That computer game was a catalyst that pushed my mind towards a totally different world.

When approached responsibly and maturely, video games can have many positive effects. Firstly, they help develop fine motor skills, which are linked to our mental and cognitive functions and contribute to the development of emotional intelligence. Secondly, they teach people to analyse situations, make complex logical inferences and solve problems. All of this shapes your mindset in one way or another. The main thing with computer games is not to overdo it, just as with anything else in life.

I'm often asked: "Oleksandr, as a director and actor, why do you think people 'play roles' and pretend to be something they're not?" I don't understand why the word "play", or the idea of someone playing a role in life, is so often seen as negative. We all play roles; each of us has social roles, whether we want to be better or not. When we play, we are still ourselves; we don't lose our agency

Photo: Yurii Vasylenko

When I was asked to work on S.T.A.L.K.E.R. 2, it was an incredible experience. I'd never worked with motion capture technology before, I only knew about it in theory, and suddenly I had the opportunity to express myself as an actor in a completely new medium and environment.

The atmosphere at GSC Game World is healthy and professional. If our film industry operated at the same level in terms of the way creative teams are treated and the depth of engagement with the material, I believe we would achieve far more and appeal to audiences across Europe and around the world.

The people I met are true professionals who are dedicated to bringing an idea to life, in an environment where everything is focused on achieving one goal, one dream: creating something that will captivate audiences around the world.

S.T.A.L.K.E.R. 2 is steeped in Ukrainian culture and art, from its distinctive Ukrainian voice acting and dubbing to its music, atmosphere and messages. English-speaking players in Australia and Canada have messaged me to say: "We play the Ukrainian version with English subtitles. We really love what you've created."

I'm proud of our people

I focus on the positive aspects of our society. It's encouraging to see this promising, talented and thoughtful generation of young Ukrainians emerging. A lot of outstanding young men aged 21-24 have joined our unit as contract soldiers recently. I find it fascinating to observe the trends they are shaping within society.

We do have plenty of problems. We need to acknowledge them and search for answers. Why is it that one student donates part of their scholarship every month, while another person turns a blind eye to everything and won't even repost a message about a fundraiser? Obviously people are stressed out and exhausted, and some have chosen to distance themselves from the war. That is their choice. But we must continue our work.

We cannot divide Ukraine into soldiers and people in the rear. The rear is also made up of our people – everyone who identifies as Ukrainian. I am proud of them.

When the Shahed hit my building, firefighters from the State Emergency Service arrived immediately and started to bring the fire under control. Then the power engineers arrived. Explosions were still echoing, things were still crashing down around us, and they were already working to restore electricity to the residents. The heating pipes burst, and workers were there the next morning repairing the damage. I pay attention to these things. They are powerful examples of responsibility and maturity.

We're under a Shahed attack, and utility workers still turn up to collect the rubbish – see what I mean? You could make a film about that. There are so many heroes, each working on their own front. People in Western countries still struggle to imagine such a reality.

To be honest, I don't know how other European countries would cope if they were subjected to the bombardments that Ukraine endures day after day, night after night – how their infrastructure would hold up, how their social services, banking systems and public services would function. Yet we have developed ways of living and operating in extraordinarily harsh conditions.

Russian propaganda does everything it can to diminish our resistance and make us passive. And sadly, part of society is affected by it. But we have examples to follow – our heroes – and not only on the front line, but in the rear as well.

By Yevhen Rudenko, Ukrainska Pravda

Translated by Yelyzaveta Khodatska and Anna Kybukevych

Edited by Teresa Pearce