How Ukraine’s most remote consulate operates. An interview with a diplomat representing Ukraine for 18,000 km from Kyiv

A month ago, Ukraine established its most distant consulate from Kyiv – approximately 18,000 kilometers away. It is headed by the Honorary Consul of Ukraine in Dunedin, on the South Island of Aotearoa (New Zealand), Olena Grubb – an art consultant and co-founder of the publishing house Magenta Art Books. This honorary yet emotionally demanding mission is traditionally carried out on a voluntary basis, without remuneration. At the same time, Ukraine urgently needs to expand the number of its ambassadors in the most remote parts of the world – to counter the wave of Russian disinformation, to find business partners across sectors from defence to agriculture, and, importantly, to support members of Ukrainian communities who were forced by war to leave their homeland.

Ms Grubb, what scope of responsibility for representing Ukraine in New Zealand are you now taking on?

First of all, I would like to thank Ukrainian communities on both the South and the North Islands, as it is they who make tremendous efforts to ensure that New Zealanders do not forget about Ukraine. This includes regular rallies in central city squares, numerous cultural events, and so-called «baking» initiatives, when people prepare Ukrainian dishes at home, sell them, and use the proceeds to send aid containers to Ukraine. This has been, is, and will remain the case – and it is wonderful. However, this is grassroots initiative in the fullest sense of the word: people collaborate based on personal connections within the community. For my part, I will focus on developing institutional cooperation at the level of state institutions. For example, Dunedin – where the consulate is located – is a UNESCO City of Literature, and I would like to establish partnerships with Ukrainian UNESCO Cities of Literature, as well as with the Ukrainian Book Institute. At the institutional level, this becomes far more systematic, as professionals in international relations take part. A state institution can present publishers and authors not individually or «through connections», but on behalf of the entire sector – representing everyone who wishes to be included. If we engage our full cultural infrastructure and draw on Ukrainian resources, we can overcome the current dominance of Russian culture, which is still strongly felt in New Zealand today. This is precisely what I intend to work on: institutional links, large-scale projects, and grants.

Do New Zealanders understand the war in Ukraine, or do you need to explain what is happening and what our shared interests are?

I approach this explanation in the same way as the key principle of Chinese cuisine outside China: it must be adapted, Europeanised, because purely Chinese cuisine is often not accessible to us. Likewise, in presenting information about our war – which is perhaps the primary consular mission today – New Zealand must be part of the narrative. So I explain how this war affects the Pacific region, and how Russian disinformation specifically targets Māori communities and populations across Pacific islands. For example, a recent fake story claimed that one of the Cook Islands – under New Zealand’s realm – wanted to separate and declare independence. This is a classic Russian method, one they urgently rely on. At the same time, much of the population on our South Island consists of Anglicans and Scottish Presbyterians, who favour a scholarly, evidence-based approach rather than an emotional one. They are very interested in public lectures – especially at universities – when academics and professors visit. They value such information as genuine knowledge about the world. I recommend books by Ukrainian historians such as Yaroslav Hrytsak and Serhii Plokhii, available in English. I would especially like to work with young people – this is now a priority. The new generation should be offered an alternative to their fascination with Dostoevsky – to show, for instance, that he follows from Gogol, and that Gogol is profoundly a Ukrainian writer. All of this should be done institutionally and systematically, and modern technologies allow us to communicate online and involve Ukrainian experts in dialogue with international audiences. You know, this consular role gives a remarkable feeling – when Ukraine stands behind you, when your actions are supported by the scale of your country.

Which of your skills and experience have proven most valuable in this new role?

There is a book about flat figures entering a three-dimensional world and being astonished by their own volume. In the same way, we discover that we are multidimensional only when we find ourselves in the right circumstances. This is my story. I graduated with honours from Ivan Franko National University of Lviv, Faculty of Law, specialising in constitutional and administrative law – the very foundation of state-building. After that, I received a British Council grant and studied international commercial arbitration at the University of Edinburgh – at the time, still something quite exotic for Ukraine. I then worked in Kyiv for American and British companies establishing themselves in the Ukrainian market. At a British law firm, I met my future husband, New Zealander Jared Grubb. We worked together. At our wedding in Lviv, about fifty New Zealand guests – friends and relatives of my husband – danced the haka at tram stops in 2008. It was unforgettable. In 2011, our daughter Hanna was born. We lived in Kyiv, while my parents were in Lviv. That was when I realised that my legal career – which I had pursued for 15 years – required too much time, while I deeply valued being a mother. I didn’t want to miss that experience. So a natural decision emerged: since my long-standing passion was art and literature, I could turn it into a profession – while also drawing on my legal background. Sotheby’s Institute of Art had just opened applications for its Art Business programme. I submitted my credentials and was accepted. I graduated with distinction, defending a thesis titled «The Emotional Value of Art». At that time, I used a device measuring heart rate variability – then a remarkable innovation – to assess emotional responses to artworks. I asked myself why Ukrainian art was virtually absent from the global market – and found the answer: global demand relies on research and references, while we simply lacked those sources. So I decided to establish a publishing house focused on art literature – to produce those very sources. Then the Maidan happened. We were in Kyiv. I remember driving with my child strapped in the back seat, going from one prosecutor’s office to another to help release detainees. I remember breastfeeding my three-year-old while listening to a woman whose husband had been beaten by riot police. That was my first volunteer experience. We cooked on the Maidan, delivered supplies, provided legal aid – my husband also helped greatly. Later, his work took us to Istanbul, but by then I already had my dream project. Together with a partner, we founded Magenta Art Books, publishing art catalogues and books, including a beautifully illustrated Turkish-language edition of The Forest Song by Lesya Ukrainka. When the full-scale invasion began, we were already in Germany. We helped receive refugees and rescue artists – at one point urgently evacuating a sculptor’s studio near Kyiv. In early 2025, due to family circumstances, we moved to New Zealand. Soon after, the Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary of Ukraine to Australia and New Zealand, Vasyl Myroshnychenko – with whom I had studied in the same group during a Canadian parliamentary internship programme back in 2001 – visited Dunedin. We were both pleasantly surprised to meet again, and shortly afterwards I was offered the position of Honorary Consul on the South Island. Together with Honorary Consul Patrick Gamble, who oversees the North Island, we aim to form a strong and multifaceted tandem. Of course, I accepted – one does not refuse such an offer. After numerous interviews and background checks, I was appointed by Ukraine’s Minister of Foreign Affairs, Andrii Sybiha, whom I deeply respect.

In fact, the first Honorary Consul of Ukraine in New Zealand was appointed not so long ago, only in 2021. It was Oleksandr Kyrychuk, and he was dismissed from his post at the beginning of the full-scale invasion after he spoke out against New Zealanders with military experience voluntarily going to fight in Ukraine. He even gave an interview to a local newspaper, urging people not to go to Ukraine. How do you view this issue, which remains sensitive for New Zealanders to this day?

This topic is often manipulated by Russian propaganda, and countering such narratives at all levels of communication is very important to me. I have great respect for volunteers from New Zealand. All my Ukrainian friends who went to war did so as volunteers – both in 2014 and in 2022. Yes, our common enemies call these sincere friends of Ukraine «mercenaries». But everyone here understands that New Zealanders serving in Ukraine’s Armed Forces are volunteers – because with New Zealand salary levels, one can only go to war in Ukraine out of conviction. I hope to devote more attention than before to the families of New Zealanders who have died in Ukraine – to support their enduring connection with Ukraine and honour the memory of these heroes.

How has your first month in the role been? What impressions can you share?

In the very first days, I received a letter from an insurance agent: a Ukrainian ship captain had been airlifted by helicopter to Dunedin hospital after a heart attack. It was important for me to ensure that he would receive proper care. I contacted him, and he was deeply grateful – it mattered to him that the Ukrainian state was looking after him. He underwent surgery and, just two days later, returned to Ukraine by plane. That was when I felt that part of this work is also emotionally rewarding – to be a piece of home. I see my office in the same way: as a small part of Ukraine. A place where one can speak their native language, seek advice, take a Ukrainian book, sit and feel at home. We pay for the rent from our family budget, so it truly is a second home – open and welcoming. I have travelled widely and lived in many countries, yet the Carpathian mountains live within me, and the Tysa River flows through my veins – I am Ukrainian everywhere. I understand deeply how strong the longing for home can be – especially here, in the country farthest from Ukraine, nearly 18,000 kilometres away. Particularly for those who were forced to move to the edge of the world due to occupation or the destruction of their homes by bombing. New Zealand does not have a dedicated programme to support Ukrainian refugees, and the special visa that once allowed Ukrainians to come here to join family sponsors has now been fully discontinued. There is also a striking contrast with Ukraine: New Zealand is not well-equipped in terms of infrastructure – homes often lack heating, while housing is extremely expensive. Yet many inconveniences are offset by how sincerely New Zealanders care about Ukraine, and how warmly they smile when they learn where you are from. I hope to introduce New Zealanders more broadly and deeply to Ukrainian art – and, where possible, to introduce Ukrainians to New Zealand art. And this, I believe, will lead to new, deep, and lasting connections between our countries – distant, yet close.

This text is in Ukrainian

Interview by Mariia Starozhytska, for Glavcom