The weaving of camouflage nets is a cultural phenomenon that has swept Ukraine since Russia’s full-scale invasion began in February 2022. Towns big and small have multiple groups who procure the needed materials, gather regularly to weave on site, or coordinate weaving by dispersed volunteer hands. Here, two vendors are posing next to a camouflage net that they completed in between serving their customers at a local market.
My research is with a volunteer group in a large town in Western Ukraine that is actively involved in making camouflage nets for the Ukrainian army. They call themselves “Maskuty,” which is a creative take on the verb “to mask.” Maskuty is one of twenty volunteer organizations that operate under the umbrella of Zakhyst group (their name means Protection). Maskuty’s primary location is a former maternity hospital, where group members meet every day. Its rooms carry visible signs of the building’s rich history: bright ceiling lights in the former operation theater, tiled floors and walls in the checkup rooms, long corridors punctuated by wards that now house the volunteers. This image depicts Soviet-era circular operation theater lights and dull-green tiles going up to the ceiling of a former surgery room, which has been repurposed as a storage area for boxes with humanitarian aid.
As of August 22nd 2024, Maskuty members have created 2,456 camouflage nets for trenches, army vehicles, evacuation buses, and one small airplane, as well as 1,638 kikimory (camouflage uniform covers). Many soldiers rely on the labor of strangers who make camouflage for them. The waiting lists are long. This is because nets are generally a single-use item: they get burnt, they get torn up or left behind, they get ruined by the elements. Here, a volunteer leader is pointing at a running list of completed camouflage products that have been sent to the front. The list is in black marker and is written directly on one of the white walls of an auxiliary building.
This image pictures a military vehicle expertly covered by a hand-woven camouflage net and additionally concealed by a net hung above it.
Kikimory are made by tying strips of yarn to the base canvas that resembles a fishing net. Volunteers use what they call “medical knots” to make the uniform covers. These knots are stable and do not easily come apart, resembling surgical sutures. Here, a soldier armed with a weapon is demonstrating a successful camouflage effect of his green kikimora that allows him to disappear into surrounding trees and grasses.
The choice of color greatly preoccupies volunteers. It is a creative, even artistic, process of weaving with eight to ten different colors to achieve the desired seasonal camouflage effect. In this photo, a volunteer is demonstrating how well they can blend in with fallen leaves and naked trees typical of autumn and early spring. This type of brown-beige kikimora is sometimes called “stepok” or “little steppe.”
Base nets are often hard to come by due to their cost or shortages associated with disrupted industry in the times of war. For example, when a Kharkiv factory that used to supply the nets was no longer able to do so due to military activity, some volunteers learned how to weave the base net on their own. When available, the cost of the base net is often prohibitive, and fundraising drives to collect money for the base nets are ubiquitous. It is common for the volunteers to donate not only time but also money when supplies are low. This picture shows volunteers posing next to a cardboard box containing a base net purchased with money I raised in the US.
Maskuty volunteers are entangled in webs of care in multiple ways, most directly in the patient and often invisible labor that provides handmade high-quality camouflage for thousands of soldiers. The labor of care also manifests in the weavers’ gift-based, even ritualistic process. Some sing, some pray, and everyone talks about the essential nature of positive thinking while weaving. The tiny knots that bring together the pieces of yarn create not only life-saving nets or uniform covers, but also a sense of kinship between people who will likely never meet in real life – volunteers and soldiers. A recent birthday wish by one volunteer to another is a great example of the highly symbolic value of these woven goods, “May you have as many years of happy life as the number of knots in the camouflage net that you made for our soldiers!” This image zeroes in on the hands of a volunteer tying a few final knots on an almost completed green kikimora.
The lethal danger to which soldiers are subjected makes them eligible for the kinds of gift-based care that is more commonly reserved for children, thus reversing the generational rules of care obligations. For example, special treats (e.g., candy, cookies, cigarettes, children’s art) are usually added to the bundles with camouflage nets traveling to the frontlines. This image was shared with me by a volunteer group called “Masknet” and features children’s art and handmade amulets for the soldiers. The same group often adds items like dried fruit, teas, wet wipes and towels, medicine and ointments, socks, and other essentials to ease the burden of war on the soldiers.
Soldiers reciprocate by an occasional note or a war souvenir, like a remnant of enemy gear. Sometimes these souvenirs are repurposed into an attractive decoration or a household item, like a coffee mug, and auctioned by volunteers, who put the funds back into the gift cycle intended to keep the army and the nation behind it afloat. This image features a table with war souvenirs for sale, run by Zakhyst volunteers at a city celebration event.
Volunteers protect and nourish new life. During my summer 2023 visit, Maskuty were taking care of a pregnant cat named “Kamufliazhka,” or Camo. August was a very warm month, and she usually lounged lazily on her back in the middle of a busy passage between the kitchen and the picnic tables where most volunteers took their lunches. The day that I got on the bus to the Polish border, she gave birth to six kittens. Camo’s lifelong partner Vasia is another beloved resident at the volunteer center. During my tour of the premises, an older displaced woman made sure I saw Vasia’s accommodations: “here is his food, here is his brush, here is his medicine, here is his bed.” This picture shows Camo leisurely strolling over a spread-out camouflage net in the volunteer center courtyard.
In the last two years, Maskuty invented and perfected their weaving methods, mindful of the best camouflage effect for each landscape and season, durability and light weight of the final product, among many other things. I remember being taught how to use the palm of my hand as a guide for when to switch to a different color to avoid unnatural shapes, such as a large square patch of a single color, that could give away a soldier. I remember the weight of responsibility I felt when thinking about the stakes of my color choices. Weavers encouraged me to remember that nature does not have straight lines. Indeed, not seeing a direct path to the end of this war does not mean that peace through Ukraine’s victory is far away. When I asked one of the volunteer elders how long he plans to make camouflage nets, he did not hesitate: “till our victory.” This image is a close-up view of a multi-colored camouflage net with the strips of fabric woven into a visible circular pattern.
Maryna Nading is Professor of Anthropology in the Department of Sociology, Anthropology, and Social Work at Luther College in Decorah, Iowa.