The Reckoning Project Wrap-Up

Our Artistic Director Josephine Burton reflects on the reckoning

When Peter Pomerantsev first told me about The Reckoning Project, I had no idea what I was stepping into. The project — founded by Peter and journalist Janine di Giovanni — set out to gather testimonies from Ukrainian survivors of Russia’s invasion, building a body of evidence for future prosecutions. It was a forensic, legal process. But Peter wondered: was there also a way to serve justice faster, or more immediately?

That’s where the idea for a piece of theatre began. I brought in my collaborator, the extraordinary Ukrainian playwright Anastasiia Kosodii, and together we began reading through a small, pre-selected set of over 30 testimonies. Each account offered a singular glimpse into everyday Ukrainian lives overturned — mothers, teachers, security guards, small-town administrators, teenagers, and pensioners — people who’d endured shelling, occupation, torture, loss.

Reading was harrowing. We limited ourselves to just three or four accounts a day. Some stories devastated us. Others opened a slow, insistent understanding: that perhaps telling these stories could itself be a form of justice.

What could a play do that a legal process couldn’t? In speaking with journalists, analysts, and lawyers, we learned how the testimonies were dissected for evidence — dates, weapons, call signs, verifiable injuries. But so much else in the transcripts was left out. The small acts of kindness. The feelings of helplessness. The tenacity. The grief. The humanity.

Our play, The Reckoning, became a space for that kind of justice. A stage where ordinary people’s stories could be heard — fully, carefully, reverently. Not to replace legal justice, but to complement it. A different kind of reckoning.

We worked with a drama therapist to process what we were carrying. We created distance for the actors — never mimicking real people, but honouring them. We made space for the audience to bear witness, not passively, but actively: through shared meals, held props, direct address. And at the end of each performance, we invited a guest — a lawyer, an activist, an academic, an aid worker — to ground the piece in lived, ongoing work. The Reckoning became a community experience, a call to attention.

Nearly 2,000 people joined us. They listened, cried, asked questions, signed up to help. I received messages from strangers telling me the show changed something in them.

For me, The Reckoning has profoundly shifted my understanding of justice. Not just as something delivered by courts — though that is critical — but as something that can be enacted through art. Not so much a tool, but as justice itself: in the act of storytelling, of being heard, of bearing witness with care.

I’ve been left wondering what other forms of justice we haven’t yet recognised. And at Dash, we’re thinking of how to use our podcast to keep the conversation going. Because we must.

Justice is not only about verdicts. It’s also about memory, truth, connection — and that’s where I’ve learnt that theatre, and art, can do some of its greatest work.

My greatest thanks to all the individuals and companies who made The Reckoning a reality: the individuals who gave us permission to look after their stories, the journalists who collected their testimonies, The Reckoning Project itself, the Pubic Interest Journalism Lab, my co-writer Anatasiia and our wonderful creative team, cast and crew, all the wonderful speakers who reflected post-show as part of the Food for Thought speakers, all our deeply patient and generous supporters and funders and the whole incredible Dash team who made it all happen.

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