Cover Story

How we chose this week’s image

A few weeks ago we looked at why The Economist had not yet used a war photograph on the cover and predicted that the moment would come. Little did we know that it would be when Volodymyr Zelensky, Ukraine’s president, asked us to Kyiv to interview him in his command centre.

Inside the presidential compound—which guards nickname “the fortress”—we had to leave our phones, devices, electronics and pens at the door: anything that could be used to identify our exact location. We fumbled along darkened corridors and abruptly found ourselves in Ukraine’s situation room. With its white formica table, high-backed chairs and large screens, it could have been a corporate conference room, but for the words emblazoned on each side, yellow on blue: “Office of the President of Ukraine”. In the month that Zelensky had posted, Telegrammed and tweeted to the world, this backdrop had become famous.

As we peered around, a soldier entered and barked: “Uvaga!” (“Attention!”) Ten seconds later the president bounced into the room, accompanied by a handful of men with machine-guns. Mr Zelensky sat himself at the head of the table, in front of a carefully positioned Ukrainian flag, and started talking.

We used a photograph for this week’s cover because we wanted to show how it felt to be there.

We had gone to see Mr Zelensky with Ron Haviv, an American photojournalist, who has worked with plenty of presidents and prime ministers. The room was large and, as we talked, Ron was able to shoot from lots of angles, amassing hundreds of prints. He used a silent camera, so he could do his job while Mr Zelensky spoke. Here is a pensive president, with the Ukrainian flag by his side.

Ron was struck by how expressive Mr Zelensky was, showing a “wave of emotions from humour to anger and despair”. Even if he is supported by most of the world, “he is a man very alone, fighting a battle”. Mr Zelensky told us about Ukraine’s need for weapons, his views of its Western backers, of what victory means and, most powerfully, about the crushing inhumanity of the Russian commanders ranged against him.

“Zelensky is naturally expressive,” Ron says. “He’s an actor, so he’s comfortable in front of a camera. But in this interview he wasn’t acting.” Here he is looking to the future of his country. When Mr Zelensky talked about victory, he told us that it means being able to save as many lives as possible. Land is important but, ultimately, it's just territory. People are what count.

This is the picture we ended up choosing. Mr Zelensky emerges from the shadows, unencumbered by flags or furnishings. He is tired. You sense that he is carrying a great weight. But he is also unbowed. When the Americans offered him safe passage at the start of the war, this is the man who refused. When told that protocol demanded the head of state had to flee, he changed protocol to stay with his people.

This presentation is better. The title no longer sits on Mr Zelensky’s head, which allows his face to fill the frame. Here we tried black and white, to add a sense of occasion. But we were trying too hard. Mr Zelensky was not striking a pose and neither should we.

We were almost there. We tidied up the title and ditched the subtitle, which only added clutter. In just a few weeks Ukraine’s president has become a world figure. Ron studied him up close for an hour and a half, as he laid out the fate of his people and his hopes of victory. Asked what he would remember about Mr Zelensky, Ron replied: “He has the burden of the world on his shoulders.”