Human Safari: Inside Russia Drone Attacks

How Russian soldiers turned Ukrainian civilians into video game prey—and what their resilience teaches us about resistance

I watched a documentary last night that I didn't want to watch.

I thought it would leave me emotionally battered, maybe sleepless, carrying images I couldn't shake. Instead, I found myself oddly hopeful. Inspired, even. Resolute in a way I hadn't expected.

The film is called "Kherson: Human Safari," made by journalist Zarina Zabrisky about the Ukrainian city that has endured invasion, occupation, liberation, and now the daily horror of what Russians call "human safari" - using drones to hunt individual civilians in the streets like a video game.

But here's what struck me most: the people of Kherson haven't just survived this. They've found ways to live fully inside it.

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Here is my interview with the filmmaker Zarina Zabrisky

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The New Face of War

"Human safari" sounds like something from a dystopian novel. Russian soldiers, positioned about a kilometer across the river from Kherson, use small drones to hunt individual civilians. They can see through their goggles or computer screens as they follow a person walking to the grocery store, driving to work, or sitting in their kitchen. Then they drop a grenade. The sound, Zabrisky says, is like "a bunch of wet boards falling off a truck."

This is a war crime turned into sport. A woman in the film says they're being hunted like targets in a shooting range, like a video game for the operators across the river.

Life Underground

In the face of the relentless sound of drones, like an endless bee swarm always nearby, life continues in Kherson, now in the underground spaces beneath the dangerous streets. A dance teacher continues to teach classes underground while artillery sounds overhead. A woman dyes her hair a different color every month and writes poetry in bomb shelters. A man uses the pencil his captors gave him to sign a false confession to create a chessboard to protect his mind from torture. Another man, whose nickname is "Little Sunshine," delivers humanitarian aid daily despite being injured by drones multiple times. When part of his house burns down, he writes to Zabrisky "Tears and whining are not for us."

The documentary opens with a dancer moving through bombed buildings and rubble-strewn squares. She appears throughout, transitioning between segments - not as some abstract symbol, but as a real person, a local resident who chose to keep creating beauty in a landscape of destruction. She's a living reminder that Ukrainian culture, which Russians are trying to erase, remains vibrantly alive.

A woman shows her embroidered Ukrainian shirt. During occupation, she says, she would sometimes put it on and go outside "to remind them that we are still Ukrainian." The simple act of wearing traditional clothing becomes a profound act of resistance.

Liberation and What Comes After

When liberation comes - Ukrainian forces driving out the occupiers - you see thousands of people pour into Freedom Square, more than anyone knew still lived in the city. They hug soldiers, have them sign Ukrainian flags, and sing the national anthem as their flag is raised again over City Hall. But this isn't the end of a Hollywood movie. It's just another chapter.

The Russians continue to attack from across the river. Then the flooding from the destroyed dam comes next. Then the human safari begins. Each time you think this has to break them, these people find new ways to endure, create, resist, and love.

"My anger overcame my fear," one man says about his decision to openly resist occupation. "I decided not to be afraid."

Choosing Humanity

A woman named Svetlana loses her entire family during two years of war. Zabrisky was there when it happened, at her husband's funeral after the Russians killed him. Yet Svetlana says, "We need to stay human." She talks about initially wanting revenge, wanting to inflict on Russians what was inflicted on Kherson. But that feeling faded. "More than anything, we have to stay human."

"I feel like I'm more furious and less humane than these people are," Zabrisky admits. "I'm learning constantly from their courage, their empathy, their humanity."

This is what stayed with me. If people under drone attack can choose humanity over hatred, if they can keep teaching dance and writing poetry and dyeing their hair bright colors, if they can transform torture implements into chess sets - what does that say about what we're capable of?

What This Means for Us

We're living through our own authoritarian moment. Tanks rolling into major cities. A president casually threatening to invade DC, to occupy New York. ICE is disappearing people off the streets. The systematic dismantling of democratic norms and neighborly regard for each other.

But watching the people of Kherson, I'm reminded we're made of sterner stuff than we know. Beauty is possible even in the darkest circumstances. Culture survives. People choose to keep creating, loving, and resisting.

If they can dance in bomb shelters and keep their hearts open while under siege, surely we can find the courage to resist more powerfully here at home. Their example lights a path forward.

While Politicians Play Games

Between 60,000 and 80,000 people still live in Kherson. This year alone, 880 have been critically injured or killed by drone attacks targeting civilians. The attacks are increasing while President Trump issues another theatrical ultimatum to Russia - 10 or 12 days to end the war. European officials dismiss it. Russian officials call his threats "decorative." The Kremlin remains noncommittal.

Europe isn't waiting. At the July Ukraine Recovery Conference in Rome, EU leaders pledged ongoing support for Ukraine "for as long as it takes." They've adopted their 18th package of sanctions and continue accelerating military aid. A coalition of over 30 countries stands ready to intensify support.

This steady commitment, this refusal to look away, matters more than deadlines and ultimatums.

The Power of Bearing Witness

Zabrisky quotes an expert on something called "security awareness" - when people simply know about a place, it becomes much harder to erase that place from the earth. "You are helping by just knowing it," she says. "Being aware."

The documentary ends with these words: "While the world is asleep, we are dying."

But Zabrisky says later. "They are very alive. They're full of life, but they're being killed." The difference matters. Being killed requires someone to do the killing. It requires witnesses. It requires a response.

You can watch "Kherson: Human Safari" for free at https://khersonhumansafari.com

. It takes 72 minutes. Don't let fear of being devastated stop you. You won't be destroyed by witnessing this. You'll be fortified by it.

These people, under circumstances we can barely imagine, have found ways to stay beautiful, creative, defiant, human. They're not asking for our pity. They're showing us what's possible when we refuse to let darkness win.

The world is not asleep by accident. But some things demand we wake up. Not to despair, but to possibility. Not to horror, but to hope.

Slava Ukraini.