Residents of Mariupol, Ukraine, have strongly rejected Russian claims that life in the city is returning to normal. Many locals describe the situation as dire, with most of the city still in ruins nearly three years after it was captured by Russian forces during a brutal siege. One resident noted that while some buildings on main streets are being superficially repaired for media coverage, much of the surrounding area remains devastated.

The United Nations reported that around 90% of residential structures were either damaged or destroyed during the conflict. In contrast to Russian media portrayals of a recovering city, residents shared their experiences of ongoing hardships, including severe water shortages and frequent power cuts. One individual mentioned that water supply is inconsistent and often contaminated.

Additionally, there are reports of food scarcity and high medicine prices, making it difficult for people with chronic conditions to access necessary treatments. The local administration has not responded to inquiries about these shortages.

Education under occupation has also raised concerns among residents. Children are reportedly being taught distorted narratives about history and geography that align with Russian propaganda. Some teachers face intimidation if they resist this curriculum.

Despite these challenges, some Ukrainians in Mariupol engage in acts of resistance against Russian control by secretly spreading messages supporting Ukrainian sovereignty and gathering intelligence for Ukrainian military efforts. This underground movement poses significant risks to those involved as they navigate a landscape filled with fear and distrust.

As discussions continue regarding potential peace negotiations between Ukraine and Russia, many residents express strong opposition to any territorial concessions, emphasizing their desire for liberation rather than a compromise at any cost.

Original article (mariupol) (ukraine) (russian) (ukraine) (russia)

This article doesn’t give readers actionable information they can use right away, like steps to stay safe, find help, or support others. It talks about problems in Mariupol but doesn’t suggest what people can do about them. It also lacks educational depth because it doesn’t explain why things happened, how systems work, or what caused the issues beyond basic facts. While it’s about a serious situation, it doesn’t teach readers anything they can use to understand bigger problems. For personal relevance, the article might make people feel sad or upset, but it doesn’t directly affect most readers’ daily lives unless they’re in or near Mariupol. It’s more about raising awareness than helping with real-life decisions. The article doesn’t use emotional manipulation or sensationalism—it sticks to describing the situation without exaggerating or trying to scare people. However, it doesn’t serve a public service function either, as it doesn’t provide resources, contacts, or tools people can use. There are no practical recommendations since it doesn’t offer advice or solutions. In terms of long-term impact, the article might remind people of ongoing struggles in Mariupol, but it doesn’t encourage lasting change or action. Finally, its constructive emotional impact is limited—it highlights suffering but doesn’t inspire hope, resilience, or empowerment. Overall, the article informs readers about a difficult situation but doesn’t provide practical, educational, or actionable value to help them act, learn deeply, or feel more capable.

The text presents a clear political bias favoring the Ukrainian perspective and opposing Russian claims. It directly challenges Russian assertions that life in Mariupol is normalizing, instead portraying the city as devastated and its residents suffering. Phrases like "Residents of Mariupol, Ukraine, have strongly rejected Russian claims" and "In contrast to Russian media portrayals of a recovering city" explicitly position Ukrainian residents' experiences against Russian narratives. This framing favors the Ukrainian viewpoint by amplifying their hardships and dismissing Russian statements without presenting Russian counterarguments or evidence of recovery efforts. The inclusion of acts of resistance against Russian control further reinforces this bias by portraying Ukrainians as victims and resistors, while Russians are implicitly cast as oppressors.

Linguistic and semantic bias is evident in the emotionally charged language used to describe the situation in Mariupol. Words like "brutal siege," "dire," "devastated," and "underground movement" evoke sympathy for the residents and condemnation of Russian actions. The phrase "distorted narratives about history and geography that align with Russian propaganda" carries a negative connotation, framing Russian educational efforts as manipulative and false. This language shapes the reader’s perception by emphasizing suffering and resistance, while downplaying any potential complexities or nuances in the conflict.

Selection and omission bias is present in the text’s focus on Ukrainian residents’ perspectives and the exclusion of Russian voices or explanations. For example, the text states, "The local administration has not responded to inquiries about these shortages," without clarifying whether the administration refers to Ukrainian or Russian authorities. This omission leaves the reader to assume Russian responsibility for the shortages, reinforcing a one-sided narrative. Similarly, the text does not explore Russian efforts to rebuild or address the humanitarian crisis, focusing solely on the negative experiences of Mariupol residents.

Confirmation bias is evident in the acceptance of Ukrainian residents’ claims without questioning their accuracy or providing countervailing evidence. For instance, the text reports that "around 90% of residential structures were either damaged or destroyed during the conflict" based on a United Nations report, but it does not verify the current state of reconstruction or Russian claims of progress. The inclusion of the UN report serves to reinforce the narrative of destruction and suffering, while ignoring potential updates or alternative perspectives.

Framing and narrative bias is seen in the structure of the text, which begins with the rejection of Russian claims and proceeds to detail the hardships faced by Mariupol residents. This sequence prioritizes the Ukrainian perspective and positions it as the primary truth. The text also highlights acts of resistance, portraying Ukrainians as brave and determined, while omitting any mention of Russian governance or efforts to stabilize the city. This narrative structure shapes the reader’s understanding by presenting a clear hero-villain dynamic, with Ukrainians as heroes and Russians as villains.

Cultural and ideological bias is embedded in the text’s emphasis on Ukrainian sovereignty and resistance against Russian control. Phrases like "secretly spreading messages supporting Ukrainian sovereignty" and "gathering intelligence for Ukrainian military efforts" align with Western narratives of Ukrainian resilience and Russian aggression. This framing assumes the reader’s support for Ukrainian independence and portrays Russian presence as illegitimate. The text does not explore Russian cultural or historical claims to the region, further reinforcing a pro-Ukrainian ideological stance.

Economic and class-based bias is subtle but present in the text’s focus on hardships like water shortages, power cuts, and high medicine prices. These issues disproportionately affect lower-income residents, yet the text does not explicitly address class disparities or how wealthier residents might be coping. By focusing on widespread suffering, the text implies that all residents are equally affected, potentially overlooking socioeconomic differences in experiences under occupation.

Structural and institutional bias is evident in the text’s critique of education under Russian occupation. It reports that children are taught "distorted narratives" and that teachers face intimidation, but it does not examine the educational system’s broader context or Russian justifications for curriculum changes. This portrayal assumes the Ukrainian curriculum as the correct standard, while framing Russian educational policies as inherently manipulative. The text does not question the authority or legitimacy of Ukrainian educational norms, presenting them as the default.

Overall, the text’s biases favor the Ukrainian perspective by amplifying suffering, resistance, and sovereignty while dismissing or omitting Russian narratives. Its language, structure, and selection of information work together to shape a sympathetic view of Ukrainians and a critical view of Russians, leaving little room for neutral or balanced interpretation.

The text conveys a strong sense of despair and anguish among Mariupol residents, evident in descriptions of the city’s ruins, severe shortages of water and food, and the struggle to access medicine. Phrases like “dire situation,” “water supply is inconsistent and often contaminated,” and “high medicine prices” highlight the daily suffering and hopelessness experienced by the people. This emotion is intensified by the contrast between Russian claims of normalcy and the residents’ firsthand accounts of devastation. The purpose of this despair is to evoke sympathy and concern in the reader, urging them to recognize the harsh reality faced by the locals.

Anger is another prominent emotion, directed at Russian forces and their propaganda efforts. The text reveals frustration over superficial repairs made only for media appearances, distorted education curricula, and intimidation of teachers. Words like “brutal siege,” “distorted narratives,” and “intimidation” underscore this anger, which serves to build trust in the residents’ perspective and inspire action against misinformation. The writer uses these details to expose the gap between Russian claims and the truth, encouraging readers to question biased narratives.

Fear is woven throughout the text, particularly in discussions of the underground resistance movement and the risks faced by those opposing Russian control. Phrases like “significant risks,” “landscape filled with fear and distrust,” and “acts of resistance” emphasize the danger and courage involved. This fear is meant to create worry about the safety of the residents and inspire admiration for their bravery, reinforcing the urgency of their situation.

The writer employs repetition to emphasize the ongoing hardships, such as mentioning water shortages, power cuts, and food scarcity multiple times. This reinforces the emotional weight of the residents’ struggles. Personal stories, like the resident describing contaminated water, add a human touch, making the situation more relatable and compelling. The writer also uses contrast, such as comparing Russian media portrayals with residents’ experiences, to highlight the disparity and increase emotional impact.

These emotional tools shape the reader’s opinion by eliciting empathy and outrage, making it harder to remain neutral. However, they can also limit clear thinking by overshadowing factual details with strong feelings. For instance, while the text provides evidence of suffering, it does not explore potential Russian perspectives or peace negotiations in depth. Recognizing where emotions are used helps readers distinguish facts from feelings, ensuring they form opinions based on both evidence and empathy, rather than being swayed solely by emotional appeals.