In Ukraine, a Community of ‘Simple Believers’ Shuns the Modern World

The Christians known as viruiuchi prostaky see electricity, cars, higher education and much else as distractions from what really matters.

Two men work in a muddy outdoor setting at dusk. One operates a simple cement mixer, while the other shovels sand.

In Ukraine, a Community of ‘Simple Believers’ Shuns the Modern World

Laying a foundation for a house in the village of Kosmyryn, in western Ukraine, in November.






Laying a foundation for a house in the village of Kosmyryn, 
in western Ukraine, in November.  

Mauricio Lima and Yurii Shyvala spent more than a week with the simple believers, as they call themselves, in Kosmyryn and other villages in Ukraine’s west. March 1, 2026 

On the outskirts of Kosmyryn, a village in western Ukraine, several men poured the foundation for a house. They used hand tools — shovels, wheelbarrows, a manual cement mixer. No engines, no electric cables.

They let themselves be photographed, which is rare. Most members of their Christian community shun images of any kind. Their homes contain no pictures or icons. They believe that creating images of people, or of God, violates the Second Commandment and distracts from the true faith.

They call themselves simple believers — viruiuchi prostaky, in Ukrainian — or just believers. They strive to live by biblical law and remain apart from the modern world. Its members’ houses have no electricity, and instead of cars they use horses and wagons.

ImageThree people ride in a cart pulled by a horse.
Simple believers, or viruiuchi prostaky, in Kosmyryn. Their community sees modern technology as an obstacle to spiritual purity. 
Image
A man in a dark hooded sweatshirt carries a purple mesh bag filled with potatoes. A few other people stand in the background.
Selling potatoes in Snovydiv, one of seven villages in western Ukraine where members of the community live.

The group focuses on faith, prayer and a strict adherence to Scripture, said Vasyl Rashydov, 60, one of its informal leaders. Some innovations, however, have taken root. Their homes now glow with lamps powered by solar panels, not kerosene, and they use old flip phones “because they’re only for words,” Mr. Rashydov said.

Members of the community, which is estimated to number about 2,000, are known in their villages as kashketnyky, a reference to the flat caps many of the men wear. Some villagers mistakenly call them Amish. The women are recognizable by their head scarves; married women tie them in the back, often over a neatly coiled bun. Unmarried women may also tie them in front, but they always leave one corner loose.

Gender roles are clearly defined. Men work, build homes for their large families and provide for them. Married women rarely work outside the household. Once married, many give birth almost every year, devoting themselves entirely to children and the home. Women take part in communal prayer alongside men and some say they view their responsibilities as an essential part of the community’s way of life rather than as an imposed burden.

Volodymyr Moroz, a scholar who has studied the movement, said it emerged in the mid-1970s among Ukrainian Pentecostals. Its founder was a Kosmyryn man, Ivan Derkach, whose followers regard him as a prophet. He preached the rejection of electricity, machinery and urban culture as obstacles to spiritual purity, and he taught that women should bear children “as the earth bears fruit.” Mr. Derkach fathered 16 children, an example that is held up as a model. 

There are practical benefits to big families. One of them, currently, is that fathers of three or more children under 18 are exempted from Ukraine’s mandatory military service. But an abundance of children can also bring challenges. In Kosmyryn and the nearby village of Stinka, schools are severely overcrowded.

Image
Young children in winter jackets sit at two wooden tables, eating from metal dishes.
For children, education usually ends after the ninth grade. Boys then start working, and girls stay home until they marry.
Image
Young girls in winter coats play an outdoor game, forming a line and holding hands.
The school in Kosmyryn needs more than $5 million for renovation.

“The situation in Kosmyryn is critical: The school was built for 180 students, but now more than 420 are enrolled,” said Ulyana Demyanchuk, the acting head of the Zolotyi Potik municipality, which includes four villages where members of the group live.

Local officials say the school, which does not have a dining room, needs more than $5 million for renovations and expansion, but Zolotyi Potik’s annual budget is only about $900,000. The national government is unlikely to provide the money, since its priority is the war.

For children, education usually ends after the ninth grade. Celebrations, concerts and participation in extracurricular school events are considered worldly distractions, incompatible with the community’s beliefs.

The believers live mostly in seven villages across the Ternopil and Ivano-Frankivsk regions of western Ukraine. In Kosmyryn and Stinka, they make up more than 70 percent of the population and set the rhythms of local life.

The New York Times

Image
A man stands at an unmarked grave in a cemetery, touching his cap. A large stone cross looms nearby.
The unmarked grave of Ivan Derkach, the movement’s founder. The cross marks the nearby grave of a Catholic villager.
Image
A man rides in a horse-drawn vehicle in a village as two people walk in his direction. What looks like an Orthodox Christian church is in the background.
Members of the community make up more than 70 percent of the population in Kosmyryn.

There are no churches, only prayer houses, which are ordinary buildings. “We gather for prayer on Sundays, and whenever there’s a need,” said Mykola Siyanchuk, 44, from the village of Snovydiv. In village cemeteries, graves are not marked by crosses or stones; they are mounds of earth, gradually covered by grass. 

Mr. Siyanchuk and his wife, Olha, 34, married five years ago. Together, they are slowly restoring an old house and raising three children. They expect another child in the spring. For pregnancies, and for significant medical issues, members of the community consult doctors who use modern technology.

Raising multiple children, often with pregnancies close together, can be physically demanding. “God created woman and gave her the gift of bearing children, so I feel happy fulfilling this role,” Ms. Siyanchuk said.

Image
A woman stands at a stove as a man peels potatoes on the floor nearby. Two young children look on, one in a high chair at a table.
Olha Siyanchuk and her husband, Mykola, preparing dinner for the family at home in Snovydiv.
Image
A man and a woman in a fenced-in outdoor area. Numerous large boxes are around them, and the man is opening one.
The Siyanchuks in their garden, where they keep bees. 

On their one-acre plot, they maintain 20 beehives and grow fruit trees, corn, potatoes, grapes and watermelon. They produce almost everything they eat. The chickens that roam freely provide eggs and meat.

Like most men in the community, Mr. Siyanchuk works in construction.

Image
A man with a white beard, wearing a striped winter hat, looks off-camera. In the background are a pile of chopped wood and a few people in winter jackets working.
In their villages, believers have a reputation as skilled craftsmen.
Image
A few boys, perhaps 12 years old or so, stand around. Two lean against a high wooden fence.
Taking a break from chopping wood in Kosmyryn.

When dusk falls over the village, Mr. Siyanchuk lights a lamp powered by a small solar panel, and the house fills with a soft, flickering glow. In the evening, the family gathers around the table to pray and share supper. Time here is measured less by clocks than by the rhythm of days, the blooming of fruit trees, the season of honey.

Image
A man draws water from a backyard well as a woman and a young child look on.
Mr. Siyanchuk drawing water from a well. 
Image
Several chickens and ducks in a yard.
The Siyanchuks’ chickens and ducks in Kosmyryn.

Yet even here, the war is never far away. All seven of the believers’ settlements lie along the Dniester Canyon. Russia uses the river valley to launch air attacks, sending its missiles and Shahed drones low over the water to evade Ukraine’s air defenses. Fragments of intercepted weapons sometimes fall in nearby villages.

On the night of Oct. 5, during the largest assault on the city of Lviv since the war began, there was an explosion so close that the windows of the Siyanchuks’ house rattled.

“At 7:30 in the morning, when I went out to the garden, I saw a Russian Shahed for the first time,” Mr. Siyanchuk said. “It was flying right over our village. That day we gathered in the prayer house to pray for Ukraine.”

Image
A man walks along a riverside trail.
A walk along the Dniester River.
A version of this article appears in print on March 1, 2026, Section A, Page 6 of the New York edition with the headline: In Ukraine, ‘Simple Believers’ Shun the Modern WorldOrder Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe
See more on: Russia-Ukraine War

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Ukraine turns the tables on Russia

News Analysis [:] Russia’s Strategy Against the West: Escalate Slowly and See if It Responds