Telegram in Ukraine, built heritage in Beirut, the identity of Slovak migrants.
DISPATCH №58
Hello and welcome. Each week, Translator’s Dispatch brings you summaries of three compelling stories from media beyond the Anglosphere. It’s our way of helping us all read the world a little differently, to get out of our mono-lingual media bubbles. Feel free to share.
We begin in Ukraine, with the story of how the rise of the (originally Russian founded) Telegram messaging app is changing how people consume news.
From Beirut, we hear about how a battle over the fate of an iconic theatre encapsulates the wider challenges to the protection of Lebanon’s built heritage.
Finally, we have an article from Slovakia about how the country’s many young emigrants to the rest of Europe navigate identity, language and opportunity away from their homeland.
P.S. - Thank you for your suggestions for what we should summarise or translate, many of which make it into the Dispatch, and may make it into the magazine. Issue 3 is due out in April. We’ll let you know more in due course.
Here’s what we’re looking for and how to let us know.
We’re also hiring an Editor to join our editorial team, helping us source and translate the best non-English language journalism from across the globe. The ideal candidate will take the lead on the Dispatch, help us source outstanding journalism from beyond the Anglosphere, and bring editorial rigour to everything we publish. The role is part-time, 3 days a week and London-based.
Sound like you, or someone you know? Full details and how to apply here (https://editortranslatorjd.tiiny.site/).
Telegrams from the front
Since the start of Moscow’s full-scale invasion, Ukrainian use of the Russian-invented Telegram has skyrocketed. And the app is no longer just a messaging service but an apparently trusted news source.
In Ukraine and around the world Telegram has become far more than a messaging app. According to a 2025 study by the analytics service Telemetrio, the platform effectively now functions as essential infrastructure, used by millions of Ukrainians not only for news but increasingly for commerce.
The 2025 study is cited in an article for Texty, an independent Ukrainian outlet with a focus on data journalism. The piece highlights two central tensions at the heart of the country’s increasingly important relationship with Telegram.
First, that usage of this Russian-invented app boomed even as Moscow launched its full scale invasion of Ukraine. [The Teksty piece warns readers of security risks. Telegram inventor Pavel Durov is Russian born but was already out of the country when the app was developed, and the service denies any links to the Kremlin. The Kremlin has pressured the app and is threatening to block access within Russia as it promotes a home-grown equivalent called Max.] Second, that users cite Telegram among their most trusted news sources, despite vast numbers of anonymous accounts and swathes of unverified information. The app allows users not only to message each other individually or in groups, but also subscribe to channels, which disseminate information one-way.
The Texty piece reports that activity on the platform is intense: Ukrainian Telegram channels collectively publish between 11 and 14 million posts each month. This growth has tended to come in waves during moments of crisis, including Russia’s full-scale invasion and subsequent attacks on Ukraine’s energy infrastructure.
Posting patterns have even developed a predictable rhythm: Wednesdays and Thursdays are the busiest days, while the peak publishing time is around midday Kyiv time. In other words, Telegram increasingly operates less like a chaotic feed and more like a structured media market competing for attention in prime-time slots.
Politics dominates this ecosystem, in Ukraine as elsewhere, with more than 90% of Ukrainian users following news or political channels. President Volodymyr Zelenskyy alone accumulated more than 16.2 billion views on Telegram. A distinct cluster of military commanders, defence officials and volunteers also commands large audiences.
Commercialisation of the app, meanwhile, is increasingly visible. Payment activity through the platform has surged: according to data from the mobile banking app monobank, the volume of payments made via Telegram has grown more than fourfold in just a year and a half. This shift is reflected in the growing number of service bots and verified brand accounts.
Telegram has evolved from a messaging tool into a marketplace – one where trust, attention and money are in play. While the app’s popularity has boomed worldwide – last year the app boasted some 11.3 million channels, up from 1.7 million in 2020 – in Ukraine its transformation is particularly striking.
Original article ‘Телеграм більше не месенджер. Це ринок, на якому змагаються за довіру, гроші та увагу’ by Sergey Mikhalkov was first published in Ukrainian on 5 January, 2026 in Texty.
It is available here.
Texty is an independent Ukrainian media outlet with a focus on data journalism
Summary by TM
When greed erases cultural memory
A battle over the fate of the iconic Théâtre de Beyrouth has laid bare a broken legal system that consistently privileges investor greed over the cultural memory of a city that has already lost so much
When the Théâtre de Beyrouth opened its doors in 1965, it was a major event, opening the city to deeper and broader horizons. Today, however, the building finds itself at the mercy of a decision that could lead to its demolition – the site of a modern drama, a battle between cultural memory and financial greed. Those concerned are waging a moral battle to preserve the theatre, but reports from the Ministry of Culture confirm that its protection is now at risk. Writing for An-Nahar, journalist Laila Girgis uses the theatre’s precarious fate as a window into a wider crisis: the systematic erosion of Beirut’s historical buildings under pressure from real estate investment, legal fragility, and political inaction.
The most severe blow came with a 2014 State Council ruling, which nullified the theatre’s inclusion on the general inventory list of historical buildings on the grounds that “protecting cultural activity” was not a sufficient reason for listing, and that the Ministry of Culture had not adequately justified its historical significance. It is clear that there is a division between how the State Council protects buildings and what people feel strongly should be protected. Despite the ruling, the theatre remained on the inventory list for a further eleven years, until the Ministry finally reinstated the decision in September 2025.
Actress and writer Hanan Al-Hajj Ali, who spent five years documenting the theatre’s history in her book Teatro Beirut, does not hide her exhaustion. She describes the hope of saving the building as “diminishing day by day,” and is frank about where responsibility lies: “Saving Beirut’s theatre is the responsibility of the state, specifically the Ministry of Culture. We need a political decision.” Civil society, she argues, has done what it can. The final word rests with the state – and the state has so far failed to act.
At the heart of the problem is a legal framework that has not kept pace with the scale of the threat. Sarkis Khoury, Director General of the Directorate General of Antiquities, explains that the primary tool for protecting historical buildings is their inclusion on the general inventory list – but that this mechanism is increasingly strained by economic pressure. The 1950 Beirut Urban Planning Law allowed property owners to increase building heights across the city, causing land values to surge. For owners of older buildings, the incentive to demolish and build upward became, in many cases, overwhelming. As Khoury puts it, the high investment rate in Beirut has presented many with a difficult dilemma: preserving an old house of historical value or succumbing to financial temptations in exchange for major urban development projects.
One proposed solution is a draft law for the Protection of Heritage Buildings that would allow owners to transfer investment rights from one property to another – enabling development elsewhere in exchange for preserving the historical building. But the bill remains stalled in Parliament. Khoury is measured about its prospects, noting that the fundamental need is not for any specific law, but for “any alternative proposal capable of protecting Lebanese heritage and preserving historical buildings, in Beirut as in other regions.”
Girgis also examines how buildings qualify for protection in the first place, through a conversation with architect Khaled Al-Rifai of the Directorate General of Antiquities. Al-Rifai outlines five criteria: architectural value, urban value, historical value, artistic value, and cultural or symbolic value. It is this last category, intangible, symbolic significance, that proves most legally vulnerable. The Théâtre de Beyrouth, located in Ain Mreisseh, underground in a 1960s building with no distinctive architectural features, qualifies almost entirely on cultural grounds. The State Council, applying the letter of a 1933 antiquities law, found that insufficient.
The scale of the challenge is vast. Al-Rifai estimates there are between 150 and 200 historical buildings in Beirut, and around 2,500 heritage buildings in total – yet there is still no complete national inventory. The Directorate receives between five and ten requests annually to demolish classified historical buildings, and around 200 requests related to heritage buildings more broadly. So in practice, protection arrives only at the moment of threat.
Other buildings in the piece illustrate both what is at stake and what has already been lost: Mansour Palace, which hosted parliamentary sessions during the civil war; the former home of Charles de Gaulle in Al-Musaytibah; and the Commodore Hotel on Hamra Street, once a nerve centre for the international press. Each carries layers of memory that no architectural classification can fully capture.
As Girgis concludes, protecting heritage is a collective national responsibility that cannot be left to cultural organisations alone. The question her investigation leaves open is whether Lebanon’s political class will act before Beirut’s remaining history is converted into towers.
The original article by Laila Girgis, ‘الأبنية التاريخية في بيروت تُصارع طمع المستثمرين: ضغوط باتجاه الهدم لإقامة أبراج أو مجمعات تجارية’ was published in Arabic on 1 February 2026 in Al-Nahar.
It is available here.
Al-Nahar is the leading daily newspaper in Lebanon.
Summary by TMH
Young Slovaks abroad navigate opportunity and belonging
How work, language and identity shape life abroad for young Slovaks
In a reported feature for the Slovak publication Kapital, journalist Dorota Suranová examines the lives of young Slovaks who have left the country to work elsewhere in the European Union, focusing on migrants in Austria and Germany and the uncertain question of whether they will eventually return.
Since the fall of communism and Slovakia’s accession to the EU, labour migration has become a defining feature of the country’s economy and social life. According to estimates cited in the article, the Slovak diaspora now amounts to more than two million people, with around 20,000 leaving the country each year. Austria and Germany are among the most common destinations, offering higher wages, stronger labour protections and broader opportunities than many regions at home.
Suranová grounds these structural shifts in the experiences of several young migrants now living in Vienna and Hamburg. Their stories reflect the two broad categories of migrants identified by researcher Lucia Mýtna Kureková: those who leave because of unemployment or limited opportunities at home, and those who seek experience abroad, hoping language skills and international work will later improve their prospects.
Oliver, who moved from Bratislava to Vienna after meeting a partner online, illustrates the precariousness that can accompany migration. Despite previous work in marketing and hospitality management, he struggled to secure office work and eventually took a job in the city’s nightlife economy. While bar work has provided financial stability, the long nights and physically demanding shifts have made him question how sustainable the lifestyle will be in the long term.
His friend Anna followed a different path but encountered similar challenges. Originally from Košice, she moved first to Brno for university before spending time in Vienna on Erasmus. Higher wages in Austria persuaded her to remain, and she initially supported herself through work in bars. Yet despite holding a degree in art history, she found it difficult to break into the cultural sector, highlighting a broader pattern researchers describe as “brain waste”, which is when highly educated migrants accept lower-skilled work abroad due to language barriers, limited professional networks or employer biases.
For Anna, the service industry also exposed the social hierarchies migrants often face. As a young woman with an Eastern European accent, she sometimes encountered harassment or stereotypes from customers and colleagues. Only after securing internships in museums and cultural institutions did she begin working closer to her field, where she felt her professional identity was taken more seriously.
Other migrants describe similar tensions between opportunity and uncertainty. Adam, who studied electrical engineering in Brno, moved to Vienna with the help of Slovak friends but now works in a kitchen while searching for a role related to his training. Although the job offers income and stability, he sees it as temporary and hopes eventually to return to engineering.
Despite their varied experiences, all the interviewees share an ambivalent relationship with the idea of returning home. Vienna’s proximity to Slovakia makes regular visits possible, yet the political climate and limited professional opportunities there make permanent return uncertain for many. Others imagine raising families abroad while maintaining cultural and emotional ties to their hometowns.
The decision to return remains unresolved for many young Slovaks. As Suranová’s reporting shows, migration within the EU has opened new possibilities for work and mobility, but it has also created a generation living between countries, balancing opportunity abroad with lingering attachments to home.
Publication Details:
The original article by Dorota Suranová, ‘Kedysavrátišdomov?’ was published in Slovakian, on November 27, 2025 in Kapital.
It is available here.
Kapitál is an independent Slovak magazine and online platform focused on culture, politics and social analysis.
Summary by ZN
Soon: Pre-order our upcoming issue
Issue #3 is almost here and you can pre-order your copy now. In our upcoming issue, our Street Talks voice authors from Tehran, Karachi, Kyoto, Gaza and Bangalore. Our long-form features include stories of resilience from a Korean middle school, gaming nostalgia from Hungary, and a deep dive into the culture of shamans on the border between China and Vietnam—all beautifully illustrated by artists from around the world.
More stories and, as always, a photo essay, and an intricate crossword to test your language curiosity and knowledge. All of them in Translator's spring issue.
Ps: Keep your eye out in the upcoming weeks for a cover reveal, launch events and more content via our social media