“Exocomet research is progressing at a slow pace,” says Daria Dobrycheva, an astrophysicist at the Kyiv Observatory. “Our PhD student, the driving force behind the project, went to the front on the first day of the war.”

Exocomets – distant comets that orbit stars other than the Sun – offer a glimpse into how planetary systems form. They are even more difficult to find than exoplanets: their tails subtly distort the starlight. Dobrycheva’s team is trying to recognize these traces in data from the American space telescope TESS.

But since the war, many comets remain undiscovered. The PhD student in question, an exceptionally talented young researcher, was the lead programmer of the project. “Even from the front he helped us debug the code,” says Dobrycheva. “Before the invasion he prepared the defense of his thesis – now he is defending our country.”

Ukraine has a long tradition in astronomy and space engineering. The country provided generations of instrument builders and theorists and played a pioneering role in (low-frequency) radio astronomy. Observatories in Kyiv, Kharkiv, Lviv and Odesa were already leading in Soviet times, with their own telescopes and training courses.

Strategy for the future

The war left deep marks on those institutions. Some observatories are located in Russian-occupied territory, others were hit by shelling. Dozens of researchers left their institute – some went to the front, others found safety elsewhere in Europe. Yet the work continues: sometimes literally underground, sometimes with emergency generators or with the help of the international astronomical community.

In June, more than twenty representatives of Ukrainian astronomy institutes met in Leiden. There, far from the front line, they worked on a strategy for the future of their field – not only after the war, but also during it. The meeting was an initiative of astronomers Pedro Russo, leader of the Astronomy & Society group, and Kateryna Frantseva, coordinator of the European Regional Office of Astronomy for Development. Frantseva did her PhD research in the Netherlands and has now become the connector between her compatriots and European astronomers. “I want to do something useful for my country,” she says, “and I realized that this is the way I can be most valuable.”

A recent article in Nature Astronomywith science journalist and researcher Danilo Albergaria as lead author, outlines the state of Ukrainian astronomy during the war. It not only takes stock of the damage – from looted laboratories to lost research data – but also shows how resilient Ukrainian astronomers continue. Despite the fact that the number of young researchers has fallen by more than 40 percent since 2020, international collaborations have been revived. And during the writing process there were constant updates from Ukraine: “Use a different photo, that antenna has already been repaired.”

Repair work on the antennas of the radio telescope GURT (Giant Ukrainian Radio Telescope) in Kharkiv, which were damaged by shelling.

Photo Vyacheslav Zakharenko

One of the co-authors is Vyacheslav Zakharenko, director of the Institute of Radio Astronomy in Kharkiv, in one of the worst affected areas. He explains how his team works on restoring instruments. The famous radio telescope UTR-2one of the oldest and largest in the world, was severely damaged, but other facilities are partly functioning again. “Our radio telescopes are national heritage,” he says. “Actually even European heritage.” Thanks to donations, there are now more resources for repairs, but there is a lack of manpower. Many colleagues have left, making teams difficult to re-form. Yet they continue, he says with a shrug: with research and with recovery. “We only have one life.”

“Telescopes are repairable,” says Iryna Vavilova, head of the extragalactic astronomy department in Kyiv and a member of the National Academy of Sciences. “People and partnerships are more vulnerable.” According to her, Ukrainian science adapts to reality. She sees a shift from large, expensive instrumentation to smaller, flexible projects – sometimes with civilian or military interfaces. Many young researchers are taking new paths: into data science, IT or drone research. “Nobody expected four years ago that drones would become such an important field of research. Hopefully they will also have peaceful applications.” At the same time, Vavilova is trying to strengthen ties with European institutions, including through the observatories on the Canary Islands and the Lofar network of radio astronomy institute Astron. “As Freddie Mercury sang: the show must go on. For us it is: the science must go on.”

My husband and I have accepted that today or tomorrow one of us, or someone we love, could die

Daria Dobrycheva
astrophysicist

Dobrycheva shows the same determination. During the video call, the air raid siren suddenly sounds in Kyiv. She laconically glances at her phone: the app shows no immediate threat. “If we take shelter in a metro station or underground parking garage every time an air raid sirens, life stops,” she says. “My husband and I have accepted that today or tomorrow one of us, or someone we love, could die – but we have to carry on, no matter how difficult that is. As long as it is about me, I can bear that, but if I had children, I don’t know if I would do that either. Maybe I would go to the shelter after all.”

Frantseva recognizes that mixture of resilience and fatalism. “People are cautious about distant plans for the future,” she says. Ukrainians think in days, sometimes weeks – how to survive today, what to do tomorrow. Still, she hopes that in five years there will be a closer Ukrainian astronomy, with stronger ties to Europe and a young generation that will stay: with fair salaries, modern facilities and international cooperation.

And even in wartime, she says, astronomy retains its meaning. “Astronomy reminds us of the big questions – where we come from, why we are here, what surrounds us. People will always look up at the sky and wonder.”

In the lecture hall beneath Kyiv University, sandbags protect the stairwell from falling glass from an enormous lamp hanging one floor above. Students take their astronomy lectures in the hall.

Photo Kateryna Frantseva





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