ZAPORIZHZHIA, Ukraine — The air alarm system is relentless and operates regardless of the functioning conditions inside the plant, such as whether the blast heater is actively blowing heat or not.

So when the alarm sounds, which happens quite frequently, Oleksii Klashnik, a dedicated worker at Zaporizhstal, opts not to retreat to one of the facility’s 14 underground shelters. Instead, he and a few other essential staff members don their safety vests alongside their heat-resistant clothing and continue their critical work with liquefied steel, which is maintained at staggering temperatures reaching up to 1,100 degrees Celsius.

Zaporizhzhia city lies less than 30 miles from the front lines of Ukraine’s high-stakes counteroffensive, making it a frequent target for Russian forces. The air alarm system is not merely a precaution; it signals genuine danger. However, halting a blast heater in the midst of smelting liquid iron, which is crucial for steel production, poses an even greater threat to operations.

“People have just adapted to the situation,” Klashnik, 29, remarked with a casual shrug. Despite the ongoing conflict, life and production must continue. Zaporizhstal, one of the largest steel mills in Ukraine, stands as a testament to resilience within one of the nation’s most vital sectors, crucial for sustaining the struggling economy.

The plant has remarkably never been directly struck, Klashnik added, but “you can definitely hear the explosions in the city,” indicating the ever-present threat looming over the area.

Established in 1933, Zaporizhstal is one of the few mills capable of producing cold-rolled sheets of steel, which are essential for the automotive industry. Its presence is significant in the region, with employees often describing its immense scale in abstract terms — they claim that two-and-a-half Monacos can fit inside the plant, or alternatively, that it covers the area of 777 football pitches.

More than just a factory, they consider it a symbol of Ukraine’s unwavering determination to resist Russian aggression. Although the plant was shut down for 33 days at the onset of the war, it has since resumed operations, retooling to support Ukraine’s national war efforts despite the significant risks involved.

Due to the ongoing conflict, the colossal Zaporizhstal has seen operational reductions. Previously, around 10,000 individuals were employed at the plant. However, last year, approximately 1,000 left to join the military, and another 1,000, mainly women or those with families, relocated elsewhere. Since the war began, Zaporizhstal has not operated at more than 70% capacity. Currently, only two of its four heaters are operational, leading to a significant drop in production levels.

“We’ve lost a significant number of our clients,” Roman Slobodianiuk, the acting general director, stated during an interview, highlighting the challenges faced by the company.

The difficulties encountered in the steel industry reflect the broader hardships inflicted on Ukrainian industry since the invasion began. The economic landscape has drastically changed, leading to severe challenges for many sectors.

Ukraine’s economy contracted by an alarming 30% in 2022. Although the decline has stabilized somewhat this year, the timeline for recovery remains uncertain. Many stakeholders in Ukraine’s steel sector are increasingly concerned about falling behind as global production shifts toward “green” steel, which utilizes hydrogen instead of fossil fuels and requires a different type of iron ore.

For many workers, this situation is not merely a professional challenge but a deeply personal one. Steel mills often dominate their local economies, providing jobs that connect families and serve as the backbone of the tax base. It is common for multiple generations of a family to work together in the intense and sometimes hazardous conditions present in these facilities.

“Ukraine has a rich steel production culture,” stated Stanislav Zinchenko, chief executive of GMK, a Kyiv-based economic think tank, emphasizing the historical importance of this industry.

This culture has been nurtured over centuries. In the 19th century, British investors began collaborating with the Russian Empire to exploit the vast iron ore reserves within the region. Subsequently, during the Soviet era, much of this iron ore was utilized in steel production aimed at the domestic market, shaping the industry significantly.

With the collapse of the Soviet Union, the industry adapted, leveraging the expansive Dnieper River and the adjacent Black Sea to export its products as far as North America and Asia. This shift propelled it to become one of Ukraine’s largest industries, second only to the vast agricultural fields surrounding the Zaporizhzhia region.

Prior to the Russian invasion, Ukraine was among the world’s top suppliers of iron and steel, with metals constituting about one-third of the country’s exports. This sector contributed significantly to Ukraine’s economy, accounting for approximately one dollar out of every ten, employing over 560,000 people directly or indirectly.

Working in this industry can be grueling. New employees on the production line at Zaporizhstal are warned that they might sweat out as much as 10 kilograms, or about 22 pounds, during their first month on the job due to the extreme heat.

In addition to the high temperatures, workers are exposed to hazardous fumes that coat much of the plant in a rust-colored dust. To ensure safety, employees carry carbon monoxide meters, a precaution stemming from tragic incidents during Soviet times.

The war’s impact on the steel industry was starkly illustrated by the events at the Azovstal Steel Plant in occupied Mariupol last year. Like Zaporizhstal, Azovstal is part of Metinvest, the metals giant owned by Rinat Akhmetov, recognized as Ukraine’s wealthiest individual.

Before the war, Metinvest was Ukraine’s largest employer, with around 35,000 workers stationed in Mariupol alone. The Azovstal mill, along with its network of underground bunkers, became a symbol of Ukrainian military resistance before falling under Russian control more than a year ago, leaving it devastated.

For the steel mills still operational within Ukrainian-held territories, additional challenges persist. They have been cut off from the iron ore mines that once supplied them and have faced rolling blackouts as Russian airstrikes have targeted the electrical grid.

The recent collapse of the Kakhovka dam further exacerbated issues, specifically concerning water supply. Just recently, a large steel plant in Kryvyi Rih, owned by metals giant ArcelorMittal, announced that it would cease production indefinitely due to water availability problems.

Even when steel production was feasible, the Russian blockade of Ukrainian ports severely limited access to international shipping routes that have historically been vital for Ukraine’s economic success. Currently, exports are being rerouted via rail to Eastern Europe, incurring significant costs that restrict sales opportunities.

“What the Russians are engaging in now can only be described with one simple term: piracy,” stated Yuriy Ryzhenkov, chief executive of Metinvest, articulating the gravity of the situation.

For employees such as Klashnik, the most significant adjustment isn’t merely the alarms; it’s the extended working hours.

Last year, shifts were lengthened from eight hours to twelve to accommodate the city’s nightly curfew, which mandates that Zaporizhzhia residents remain indoors after dark. This change results in an additional four hours each day spent in the sweltering conditions near the furnace.

Looking ahead, staffing will likely present a significant challenge for Zaporizhstal, reflecting broader issues regarding the future of Ukraine’s heavy industry. Officials at the plant report difficulties in filling specialist positions, as many skilled workers have opted to leave the region.

Only about 100 workers from Metinvest in Mariupol were transferred to Zaporizhstal. Initially, Metinvest hoped to find jobs across the company for 6,000 workers displaced from its Mariupol facilities, but only half of those applied. Many chose to remain in Russian-controlled areas for personal reasons or accepted positions in Russia’s larger industries.

“This outcome was somewhat surprising for us,” Ryzhenkov noted, explaining that the limited job availability within Ukraine and language barriers in Europe played a role. “As a result, they chose Russia.”

Slobodianiuk, who is 34, acknowledges the difficulty in persuading younger generations to pursue careers in steel manufacturing instead of more modern fields such as information technology, despite the competitive wages offered in steel jobs. “It’s physically demanding work,” Slobodianiuk stated. “Not many people are willing to commit to it.”

Approximately 7 million individuals have evacuated Ukraine since the onset of the conflict, exacerbating an already existing labor market challenge. Millions more have relocated within Ukraine to the western regions, distancing themselves from traditional industrial hubs like Zaporizhzhia. Given that military expenditures are expected to remain high for the foreseeable future, a significant number of soldiers will be removed from the civilian workforce.

The ongoing conflict has also meant that Metinvest and other steel manufacturers in Ukraine have fallen behind in the global shift towards green steel production, which is less reliant on coal and significantly reduces carbon emissions. Countries like China, India, and South Africa have stepped in to fill the void left by Ukraine in international steel markets. Despite sanctions on Russian steel, its iron ore remains accessible.

“Currently, the primary supplier for Europe’s steel industry is Russia,” remarked Zinchenko, referencing the sponge iron and other specialty ores produced by Metalloinvest, a Russian firm whose largest stakeholder is the sanctioned oligarch Alisher Usmanov. “It’s quite ironic, right? It should be Ukraine.”

The legacy of Azovstal has made Ukraine’s steel sector a source of national pride. However, ensuring the industry’s survival will require addressing critical questions about the kind of nation Ukraine aspires to be in the aftermath of the war.

“Before the war, I felt a sense of pride working here,” Klashnik said as he stepped back from the furnace. “And even now, my feelings remain the same.”