In the early hours of July 16, I began to receive a flurry of WhatsApp messages from my friend and colleague, Vlada Nedak, a leading Jewish Ukrainian figure based in the southern industrial city of Kryvyi Rih. More than 30 Russian drones had just attacked civilian targets within striking distance of her home, trapping her and her daughter and prompting her to reach out with an urgent late-night request:

Promise if I die you and your people will stop this. Please continue the fight for the future of Ukraine.

I didn’t know what to tell her. Truthfully, I cried and haven’t stopped crying.

As the CEO of a Jewish nonprofit with a more than 30-year commitment to investing in Ukraine, it is a core part of my job to generate the resources needed to support Vlada, the Jewish community and our partner groups, helping them survive this fight for a free, open Ukrainian society. But every day it becomes increasingly clear that much of the Jewish philanthropy world has moved on.

Despite attacks on Ukraine becoming more relentless than ever — destroying homes, schools, offices and vital infrastructure; killing children at playgrounds, grandparents in their beds and even members of our staff — perceptions of the war have shifted since 2022. That winter, Russia’s invasion spurred an avalanche of giving from Jewish funders who correctly recognized Ukraine as a cradle of historic and modern Jewry, and a nation that has reclaimed its Jewish ancestry and traditions.

This foundation continues to hold. What’s changed is the normalization of the war across groups, including Jewish philanthropists, who are beginning to return to their prewar giving models and are narrowing their focus on Israel and antisemitism.

As a proud Jew and leader of an organization that also serves Israelis, including Ukrainians taking refuge in Israel, I can understand how this occurred. The atrocities of Oct. 7, 2023, were too often met with denials, hostility and dismissive attitudes toward Jewish fears, to say nothing of violent protests and acts of terror like the targeted murder of Israeli Embassy staffers Yaron Lischinsky and Sarah Lynn Milgrim. But we must seek to strike a balance, not be limited to one issue or another. Prioritizing the need to counter antisemitism and support Israel such that this completely drowns out the immediacy surrounding Ukraine is a tragedy of epic proportions, especially for Jews.

Ukraine’s documented Jewish history spans more than a millennium with archaeological evidence of Jews dating back to the 10th century. For nearly 300 years, cities like Odessa, Lviv and Kyiv have served as centers of Jewish thought and trade; the birthplace of new Jewish movements; and home to a resilient religious and cultural life that has endured, even in times of terrible persecution. Ukrainian Jewish life thrives to this day and currently serves as a source of enormous comfort and pride. 

This vibrancy has been energized by the country’s increasing inclusivity and embrace of democratic values. Remarkable social progress has taken place in just the last few years. In 2022, Ukraine ratified the Istanbul Convention, a landmark step in combating gender-based and domestic violence. Legal reforms have improved cultural and language rights for national minorities, aligning Ukraine’s legislation with European standards. Most recently, on July 13 a Ukrainian court issued the country’s first formal recognition of gay marriage; 70% of Ukrainians think LGBTQ citizens should enjoy equal rights, a percentage that’s on par with U.S. sentiment.  

Is it any wonder that Ukrainians remain determined to fight despite devastating losses? They see themselves as part of the rule-based international order and refuse to be part of Putin’s Russia, which suppressed Ukrainian language and culture for decades, illegally annexed Crimea and backed separatist movements in eastern Ukraine. Within its own borders, Russia subjects its own people to authoritarian control, embraces isolationism and dehumanizes groups like the country’s LGBTQ population, deeming them “others” and treating them as enemies of the state. This playbook should be exceedingly familiar and terrifying to Jews everywhere — and it should further align Jews and Jewish funders to the Ukrainian cause, regardless of other critical priorities. 

Simply put, Ukraine’s fight for its freedom and continued independence is a Jewish fight that’s steeped in Jewish values. The question is whether enough Jewish philanthropists will recognize this fact before it’s too late.

Karyn Grossman Gershon is the CEO of Project Kesher, a nonprofit organization focused on promoting the status of women, advancing civil society and building Jewish life since 1989.