Descending into a windowless, Second World War-era air-raid shelter in the heart of Berlin provides a visceral sense of the claustrophobia and tension inherent to life under siege. That sensation is immediately amplified for visitors to a new exhibition space within that bunker, who are confronted at the entrance by a simulated first-person view from a Russian drone, its crosshairs locking onto them as if they were the next target.
The installation is the opening statement of a privately funded museum dedicated solely to the ongoing conflict in Ukraine, the first of its kind outside the nation’s borders. It opened as the war entered its fifth year, conceived as a direct challenge to what its creators describe as growing international fatigue.
“The danger is that people become numb, that this starts to feel distant,” explained one of the exhibition’s organizers. “This is a dynamic, evolving project meant to shake that complacency. It’s a stark reminder that a brutal war of aggression is being waged right now on European soil.”
The collection has been assembled in close cooperation with Ukrainian institutions, including the National Military History Museum in Kyiv, and soldiers from front-line units. It chronicles the invasion through a blend of historical context, personal narratives, and stark physical artifacts of destruction, aiming to honor Ukrainian resilience.
Central to the exhibition is the wreckage of a silver-grey van, its windshield shattered and seats stained. The vehicle was used as a volunteer transport in Kherson, evacuating the elderly and ferrying sick children, before it was deliberately struck by a Russian drone in the spring of last year. Footage of the attack, recovered from Russian sources, shows the moment of targeting. The driver, a 28-year-old aid worker, was killed.
Overhead, a collection of twenty captured Russian drones hangs from the ceiling. Among them is a crude, low-cost model constructed from everyday items like duct tape and a disposable camera, representative of the weapons used to drop grenades on civilian areas.
A large, reconstructed cruise missile, printed in sections by a 3D printer, dominates another section. It stands beside a photograph of a Kyiv apartment block devastated by such a weapon. A Ukrainian journalist contributing to the exhibit noted the missile killed a friend, a doctor who lived there. “The war is always very close,” he said, expressing a hope that the display would make clear “the threat the Kremlin’s regime poses to all.”
The exhibition does not claim neutrality. It explicitly critiques political forces within Europe that downplay the Russian threat and features blunt slogans. The organizers have a history of bold gestures, having previously arranged for the wreck of a Russian tank to be displayed outside Russia’s embassy in Berlin.
A former Ukrainian official involved with the project offered a pointed piece of advice to her German hosts, born from bitter experience: “Whatever you do, don’t get rid of your bunkers.”
The museum’s curators state the exhibition will remain for the duration of the conflict, with plans to continuously update it with new material gathered from their regular trips to Ukraine, where they also deliver humanitarian aid. “Every anniversary of this war,” one curator said, “is one too many.”
