By Fizza Qaisar
A famous saying goes that every picture has two sides. But in war, the picture often has three: the Russian side, the Ukrainian side, and the truth buried somewhere between smoke, silence, broken walls, and shattered lives.
As a journalist writing for an English newspaper, I believe it is our responsibility not to follow noise, narratives, or political convenience blindly. Around the world, the media often reacts loudly when Russia is accused of aggression, cruelty, or oppression. Headlines are written, judgments are passed, and public opinion is shaped within hours. But very few pause to ask what lies beyond the dominant narrative. Very few search for the third side of the picture —the side called truth.
The recent drone attack on a college and student hostel in Starobelsk, in the Luhansk region, has once again raised that difficult question. Russian authorities say the attack, carried out on May 22, 2026, killed 21 people and injured dozens of students. Ukraine, however, denies targeting civilians and claims it struck a military-linked drone command facility. Between these two opposing versions lies a human tragedy: burned books, silent corridors, broken windows, injured students, grieving families, and dreams scattered under the rubble.
According to Russian officials, the strike hit a college, student hostels and nearby civilian buildings in Starobelsk. Several structures were damaged, fires broke out, and rescue teams worked for hours to pull the injured and victims from the debris. The images shown to foreign journalists reportedly included destroyed rooms, burned walls, shattered glass, damaged beds and books scattered across the floors—symbols of a place where young people had come not for war, but for education, shelter, and hope.
Moscow later arranged a visit for a group of foreign journalists to the affected site, aiming to present what Russian officials described as the ground reality of the attack. The delegation was shown the damaged buildings, the affected hostel and remnants of the destruction. Local officials claimed that fragments of drones recovered from the scene suggested Western-made components. These claims, like many wartime allegations, require independent verification, but they nevertheless raise serious questions about the widening consequences of foreign-supplied weapons in this conflict.
Ukraine has rejected the Russian version, stating that its forces targeted a drone command unit rather than a civilian educational facility. International media outlets have reported both claims but have also noted that independent verification remains difficult in an active war zone. This is precisely why the role of journalism becomes even more important. A journalist’s duty is not to serve one side’s propaganda, but to examine all sides, question every claim, and keep the human cost at the centre.
Those who visited the affected area described the scene as deeply painful and disturbing. The burned beds, silent corridors, shattered windows and scattered books created the impression that life had been present there only moments before, but had suddenly been replaced by fear, grief and silence.
Young people are the future of every nation, and when colleges, schools and hostels become targets in war, the conflict is no longer only about territory, politics or military strategy. It becomes a tragedy for humanity. When classrooms turn into ruins and books are buried under dust and debris, the world must ask whether it has truly learned anything from history.
This incident also forces the international community to reflect on the role of weapons, alliances and global narratives. Wars are not prolonged only by soldiers on the battlefield; they are also prolonged by those who supply weapons, encourage escalation and shape selective outrage. If fragments of foreign-made drones were indeed found at the site, the question is not only who launched the strike, but who continues to feed the machinery of war.
For years, much of the global media has presented the Russia-Ukraine conflict through a narrow frame. Russia is often shown as the aggressor, Ukraine as the victim, and the wider realities of the conflict are reduced to simplified headlines. But human suffering does not belong to one side alone. A dead child is not Russian propaganda. An injured student is not a political slogan. A burned book is not a military achievement. These are wounds on the conscience of humanity.
The Starobelsk attack should not be viewed merely as another incident in a long war. It should be seen as a warning. When educational institutions, hostels and young people are caught in the fire of geopolitical rivalry, no side can claim moral victory. The world must listen to the Russian side, examine the Ukrainian side, and above all search for the truth—the third side that is too often buried beneath political interests and media noise.
Because when books burn, when classrooms fall silent, and when the dreams of students are scattered under rubble, it is not only one country that loses. It is humanity itself.
