Maja Thrane, a Swedish Woman Helping Ukraine

Swedish journalist and translator Maja Thrane is part of the Ukraine aid network in Sweden. In this interview, she talks about her career and explains her motivations. She also recounts her travels and reflects on Ukrainian society, which she believes is more dynamic than Western societies. A wonderful experience, which Maja may one day share with Desk Russie.

Let’s start with something very simple. Tell us who you are and what you do for a living. 

I am Swedish, but my parents immigrated to Sweden. My father is an immigrant from Poland. And my mother is Danish. For 15 years, I have been working as a translator, literary critic, and writer. For the past 10 years, I have been working for a Swedish newspaper called Svenska Dagbladet as a literary critic.

Since the invasion, I have trained as a nursing assistant. I then ended up joining an organization of Swedish volunteers working in Ukraine. 

What prompted you to do this training? Did you realize from the start of the war that it was going to be a long one?

I didn’t even ask myself that question. For my first trip to Ukraine, I wanted to be trained to treat the wounded. But I’m not that young anymore. And it’s still very hard work. So I decided to test my abilities not on the front line, but further back. Because you don’t know how you’re going to react in a war situation. For this reason, I finally opted for volunteer work, distributing humanitarian aid. 

But what made you decide to get involved in this particular war? Why this war rather than another? 

Maybe sometimes we only understand the choices we make later on. I think it must be a combination of having grown up in Sweden, what that represents, what Russia represents for Sweden, and then my family history, of course, because my father is Polish. He came to Sweden in 1969 from communist Poland. For me, there was no illusion about what was happening in Ukraine, and it affected me very deeply.

My first feeling was one of enormous pain. And the second feeling or thought I had, which was immediate, was that I thought of my grandmother, a Polish Jew. When Germany invaded Poland, she wanted to join the Resistance, but she was rejected because she was Jewish; they didn’t want her. So she spent five years in hiding. She survived with her mother. In Poland itself. Only to be persecuted during the anti-Semitic campaign in 1969.

So she took her three children, who didn’t know they were Jewish, and told them, “You are Jewish, and we are going to Sweden.” And they went to Sweden. I think there is something in me that is connected to this story, which is that we cannot allow ourselves to have illusions about certain things.

Illusions about Russia? 

I’ve never had any illusions about Putin’s intentions. I think many Russians, Poles, perhaps French people, delude themselves into believing that you can negotiate with someone like that, but for me, I don’t believe in that option. 

But you say that was also the atmosphere in Sweden.

From the outset, there was an understanding that Russia posed a threat, not only to Ukraine, but also to the whole of northern Europe. Finland, which is very close to Russia, has experienced war with Russia.

Sweden is afraid, truly afraid of Russia. That’s why it joined NATO, even though for 200 years Sweden remained, quote unquote, “neutral”, because it wasn’t neutral, but wanted to be neutral. And for many people I know, joining NATO was out of the question.

But after the invasion, that changed. It was very strange, because there was very little preparatory debate about this choice, about this decision. It wasn’t a popular vote either; it wasn’t the people who chose this. The Social Democrats made a complete U-turn, which gives an idea of Sweden’s relationship with the Russian threat. And now we are putting a lot of resources into defense.

You joined a Swedish network to help Ukraine. Can you tell us a little about it? 

It’s an organization called Operation Change, which was formed spontaneously during the invasion, when there were many immigrants flooding the Polish border. Swedes went there to provide assistance, to help these people leave for Europe, to bring aid. And in fact, as the waves of immigration decreased, these Swedes went further into the country, into Ukraine, where there was more need.

It’s a humanitarian aid organization, and we’re all volunteers. We work in our spare time. We collect aid in Sweden, bring it to Ukraine, and distribute it there.

Almost from the beginning, we had people on the ground, Swedes who live there permanently. We have a kind of on-call system where we always try to have experienced volunteers on site. And then we have volunteers who come to work for a minimum of one month at a time. We have a whole system in Sweden for collecting aid. Since the beginning, we have distributed hundreds of tons of humanitarian aid.

What does this humanitarian aid consist of? 

In fact, we go and see Ukrainians and ask them what their needs are. We never donate anything that hasn’t been requested because that’s the worst thing you can do. We work with orphanages, hospitals, and reception centers for internal refugees. We also work with organizations that support the army. But we have decided to remain humanitarian and not work directly with the army. Indirectly, however, we support them with, for example, heated blankets for the wounded. And since it’s winter, we ran a campaign to get plenty of them for the wounded, precisely because it’s very, very important to keep warm. We have a medical section for all medical aid that is delivered to hospitals and stabilization points.

And then, for the refugee centers, we have everything that might be needed in a refugee center. Clothing, but also sanitary products. Then, for the orphanages, they need absolutely everything. That could be toys, clothing, etc.

Another very important thing we’ve been doing for the past year is providing fishing nets to protect against drones. Swedish and Danish fishing nets are very good quality. So we’ve transported hundreds and hundreds of tons of them to put around roads, hospital entrances, etc. They take up a lot of space in a truck, but they’re effective. We have also started a new project. 

What does it involve? 

It was an initiative by a Finnish publishing house, WSOY. I met the publisher last summer at Arsenal, the big book fair in Kyiv. When he heard about our projects, he said, “Couldn’t we, as publishers, support Ukraine with Ukrainian literature, given that there are attacks on publishing houses, book storage facilities, and libraries?” He offered to support the purchase and production of Ukrainian books. And so he made an initial donation, we were able to buy Ukrainian books, and our organization distributed them. 

Where did you buy them? 

We bought them directly from two major Ukrainian publishing houses. We cooperated with Pen Ukraine, which received part of the donation, because since 2014, we have been organizing literary tours with Ukrainian authors and books to places that had been occupied or are located near the front line, where bookstores no longer have many books.

We thought we would complement each other, that we would go to hospitals and orphanages, which also have a great need for Ukrainian literature, and so we made our first trip in November and brought two Ukrainian authors who held workshops with the children there. 

Did you drive the trucks to Ukraine yourself? 

Yes, more like large vans.

How many trips did you make during the war? 

I went once in 2024, and then I made two trips. It wasn’t planned, but I really enjoyed the book distribution project. I went there in May, and then I went again in November 2025 for the Books for Ukraine project.

And what were you able to visit in November? 

Mainly in the east, because that’s where the needs are most urgent. Having said that, it’s true that it’s becoming more and more complicated because of drone attacks. A large part of Donetsk Oblast is very difficult to get to. There are places we can no longer go to in person because it’s too complicated, and we’re looking for solutions.

There are places we were able to go to just a few months ago that we can no longer reach. For example, in 2024, we used to go to Pokrovsk, and now we can’t go to Pokrovsk. 

At first, we had our base in Sloviansk. I was there in 2024. Then, that same year, there was a missile attack. We were very lucky because it exploded between our building and our parking lot, right in the middle, leaving a crater between the two. Fortunately, no one was hurt. But the building was partially destroyed. We have another base now.

And when you go there, do you stay with locals? 

It varies. We have our base where we rest, reorganize, and plan our trips.

Most of the time, we plan trips lasting three or four days. And depending on the location, we can stay either in hotels that are a little out of the way, or with Ukrainian friends who are volunteers like us.

What motivates the Swedish volunteers? Are they mainly people with roots in Eastern Europe? 

Not at all. And I find that very interesting. Because they are really ordinary Swedes, really just everyday people. There are a lot of retired people who go to Ukraine and want to get involved, want to help, want to do something. Because they have the time. And they are very committed to the situation. But there are people of all ages. Often, these volunteers have no experience of war or the military. 

Among those who spontaneously left at the very beginning to provide assistance at the border, many people had experience in community life, which is very strong in Sweden. That is to say, we get together to do something together. I am thinking precisely of the community spirit, of doing something together, without profit. And that feels good. 

Now that we are four years into the war, do you sense a certain weariness within Swedish society and even among these volunteers? Do you still have the energy? 

I think everyone, everywhere, feels a certain weariness; we want it to stop, of course.

And sometimes, when we have our volunteer group meetings, we dream of the day when we are able to come to Ukraine just to spend time together. I think everyone is tired.

If we’re tired, it’s nothing compared with how Ukrainians feel. And we feel all the more need to support them, precisely because it’s not stopping. When we look at how things are going for Ukrainian volunteers, it’s nothing. Because we can go home, we can rest, we can go back, we can choose to go back, we can choose to rest. We all think we’re privileged, in fact, compared to Ukrainians who don’t have that choice. 

You went there last time almost in November. How do you feel about Ukrainian society today? 

I am very, very impressed by Ukraine and its people. There is a spirit of solidarity and mutual aid that I find quite magnificent. We are learning something here that I hope will really help Ukrainian society in the future, because there will be real resources and a kind of democratic experience and mutual aid and anti-corruption too. 

Because of the problems with corruption, we remain cautious. We’ll go, we’ll meet, we’ll talk. We might make a small donation and see how it goes. And since we’re so close to our recipients, we know very well what’s going on, so we can see very, very quickly if something isn’t right.

There have been cases where we have stopped cooperating because we felt that something was wrong. But most of the time, it’s still very honest and very solid work. 

Ukrainians are much more advanced than we are in Sweden. In Sweden, we believe that the government should do this for us, the government should do that for us. And when the government doesn’t do that, we’re unhappy and we vote differently because we’re not happy. Let me give you an example. This winter, there was a lot of snow. And in Stockholm, there were 10,000 complaints to the region because there weren’t enough machines to clear the snow. And I thought to myself, what’s stopping people from picking up a shovel and going outside to clear the sidewalk in front of their building? 

In Ukraine, you know very well that if you want something to happen, you have to do it yourself. You can’t always expect the state to provide you with everything you need. There is a kind of sense of responsibility; we have our own responsibility to society. 

This horizontal structure of Ukrainian society, this self-organization, has already been seen, for example, on Maidan. How can we explain this reflex to find solutions ourselves, like these babushkas who knit scarves for soldiers?

That’s a good question. Perhaps the fact that people know the state won’t be able to help encourages them to find solutions themselves… Is it the weakness of the state? Yes, perhaps. A kind of counter-current, because people know they can’t rely on the system?

You mentioned corruption. Did you actually encounter corruption during your travels? 

Very little. Personally, I haven’t encountered any cases of corruption. But sometimes, when we went to visit a new contact, we didn’t get a good feeling about them at all. And sometimes it’s hard to understand why, but something just doesn’t feel right. 

However, at a higher level, I know there have been scandals with the International Red Cross, for example. Perhaps it’s a combination of funds coming in and no one checking where they’re going. And at government level, there are still old crooks who operate according to old patterns. But the fight against the common enemy unites people and prevents corruption. 

Finally, could you tell me a story about something a little extraordinary, something you’ve experienced?

I feel like almost every day there, you come across something that you find extraordinary in some way. I have just two little stories.

It happened in Kyiv, in 2024, and there were a lot of attacks on the capital at the time. We said to ourselves, we’re going to try not to stay in the city too long, we’re going to leave. But our truck broke down on the Friday afternoon, in the middle of the city, on a bridge, where you definitely shouldn’t stay. We started looking for someone to help us out. And we ended up finding a man who said, yes, I can be there in an hour. Despite a major problem with our truck, we managed to get to a mechanic. And when he saw that we were volunteers, he put the whole team on our truck because we said we wanted to leave that evening. And they ended up repairing the truck. It’s a simple thing, but for me it’s still wonderful. 

Another thing I find quite incredible is that today, there are lots of things that work better in Ukraine than in Poland or Sweden.

There’s Nova Pochta, which is wonderful, incredible, and now, when we can’t deliver to certain places, we can actually send it with Nova Pochta and it will arrive. There are the Ukrainian Railways, which are magnificent and work much better than in Sweden or Poland. There are very efficient bank cards, you can pay even in a tiny café, you can pay everywhere and it works. In short, there is a modernity in Ukraine that we don’t know in the West. And in fact, it’s very modern on a technical level. 

Okay, I’ll tell you a little story that I described in a text that will be published in Swedish. It was in May, on a sunny day, and we were going to Mejové, which is 30 kilometers from Pokrovsk, for a delivery. Normally, when you go to places like that, you don’t stay very long. When you’re 30 kilometers from the front line, you constantly hear the alarm, the alert going off, but there, everything was very quiet. We later learned that they had turned off the alarm because it stressed the children and the animals. When we arrived at our destination, which was a hospital, the person we were supposed to meet wasn’t there.

We were discussing what to do, and there were three old ladies sitting there watching us. A Ukrainian woman who works for our organization brought some strawberries. I have no idea how she found that little packet of strawberries. And since our appointment was delayed, we sat down on a bench to eat the strawberries. And we ended up sharing that moment with those three old ladies, for whom it was probably not the first war, not the second war… We spent that beautiful moment together. And now, unfortunately, in Mejové, there aren’t many left.

That’s what breaks my heart. You meet all these people and then you realize that all these people are going to have to move. And especially for the elderly, it hurts me the most because when you’re 80, 90 years old, you’ve lived your whole life in one place and you’re going to have to leave everything behind to go to a place you don’t know. We don’t know where those three old ladies are now. But when you’re older, you’re supposed to spend your days in your favorite, beloved village.

We were making a delivery to another town, in Donetsk Oblast, and we came across two refugees who had just been evacuated from their village. The man hadn’t taken off his boots for a year because he wanted to have time to go down to his cellar or leave. But that’s not dignified! In fact, an entire country is suffering enormously from things that no one should have to go through.