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It was with relief that English universities learned earlier this month that their quality-related research funding was largely being preserved at its current levels. Speculation had been rife that in a constrained funding environment, the government might choose to cut a funding stream that can be used by universities in any way they please ¨C and, therefore, that rarely gives rise to headline-grabbing announcements that can be proclaimed a government press release.

But the question remains as to what institutional funds are best used for. What kind of knowledge deserves institutional support? And to what extent should the political climate shape research priorities?

Indeed, that question may become particularly pointed in the US, if the government carries through with its threats to cut external public funding from universities that, , don¡¯t yield to the government¡¯s diktats.

As a professor of genetics from Ukraine and currently a senior researcher at the University of Exeter, I recognise the immense value of scientific research. However, as a Ukrainian academic seeking refuge?because of war, I also see an urgent need to support research that preserves culture, history and human dignity and all those features that shape the consciences of nations.

Exeter has taken a leading role in responding to this need. Its department of languages, cultures and visual studies has championed the translation of Ukrainian wartime poetry ¨C an initiative that not only enriches literary studies but also demonstrates the university¡¯s commitment to academic freedom, cultural preservation and historical justice.

Ukrainian wartime poetry is more than artistic expression; it is a vital medium for processing trauma, asserting identity, and bearing witness to history. The recent visits of distinguished Ukrainian poets and literary figures ¨C Yuliya Musakovska, Olena Huseinova, Hanna Khriakova and Oksana Maksymchuk ¨C to the UK have been transformative. These remarkable women not only gave voice to their own experiences but also to those of poet-soldiers defending their country and mourning fallen comrades.

Written in the midst of war, their poetry speaks of loss, resilience and the personal costs of conflict, offering an unfiltered perspective rarely captured in traditional historical narratives. For those who blamelessly sleep comfortably in their beds at night, war poetry serves as a visceral reminder of the human cost of war ¨C a cost that we must never ignore.

Such endeavours also help to redress some of the failings of Russian studies departments as regards Ukraine.

In a , Rory Finnin, professor of Ukrainian studies at the University of Cambridge, recognises the Russocentrism of Slavic Studies, which ¡°has left all too many scholars and analysts ill-equipped to understand Ukraine¡¯s history, culture, and civil society on their own terms¡±.

The political and cultural tensions surrounding Russian studies in Western academia are undeniable. Many scholars in Russian literature departments find themselves in a difficult position, confronting both historical legacies and contemporary realities. A German professor once told me that all German scholars ¡°bear an eternal stain of Hitler¡¯s atrocities, but it is deserved¡±. Similarly, today¡¯s Russian literature scholars must navigate their discipline¡¯s entanglement with imperialist narratives.

Russian departments that persist in teaching Crime and Punishment without simultaneously acknowledging Russia¡¯s crimes in Ukraine, or who dismiss Ukrainian critiques of Dostoevsky as ¡°cancel culture¡±, might do well to consider that Ukrainians are fighting for the very existence of their culture in the face of as-yet-unpunished Russian war crimes.

As Finnin suggests, the pursuit of academic ¡°objectivity¡± in Russian studies risks perpetuating Moscow-centred narratives. But, of course, Western Russianists are only able to adopt such narratives by virtue of enjoying a level of freedom for which Ukrainians, including students, researchers and writers, are laying down their lives ¨C if not on the military front lines then in supporting the army from the rear, or simply enduring the everyday hardships of war. There is no freedom in Russian universities ¨C witness the 287 university presidents who released a public statement in 2022 supporting the Russian military assault on Ukraine. Greater sensitivity is needed to the emotions Ukrainians are experiencing now.

Yet this moment also presents an opportunity to bring the broken fragments of the mirror together. The voices of Russian writers and poets who oppose the Putin regime ¨C many of whom are imprisoned or labelled ¡°foreign agents¡± ¨C deserve their place in academia. By incorporating their works into Russian literature programmes, scholars can take a principled stand against authoritarianism while reaffirming their commitment to human rights and literary freedom.

Exeter¡¯s leadership in this area sets an important precedent. The meticulous translations, edited and facilitated?by Exeter professors Hugh Roberts and Helen Vassallo, ensure that these voices reach a global audience, reinforcing the role of academic institutions as guardians of cultural heritage and contributors to historical justice.

Regarding the First World War poets, poet laureate Simon Armitage wrote, ¡°We read them not just to remember the dead, but to remember what it means to be human in inhuman times.¡±

The translation of Ukrainian wartime poetry is not merely an academic endeavour; it is a moral imperative. Our Ukrainian war poets are creating the moral compass of our nation.

Svitlana Arbuzova is director of the Eastern-Ukrainian Centre of Medical Genetics and Prenatal Diagnosis in Mariupol, Ukraine and an honorary senior researcher at the University of Exeter.