How to study our own history
Volodymyr Vynnychenko coined the phrase, “You can’t read Ukrainian history without bromide.” Today this saying is often quoted with the following implication: look at how complicated and tragic our history is. At first glance, this would appear to be true. But let’s stop and think: weren’t there many tragic and dramatic moments in the history of other nations, including European ones? The Reconquista in Spain, the Hundred Years’ War in France, the religious wars in European countries, and the Turkish conquest of the Balkans-weren’t they dramatic? The list can be continued.
The problem is not so much real history and events as their interpretation. In one way or another, recorded history reflects national consciousness, a people’s mentality, and popular stereotypes and myths. On the other hand, recorded history teaches us how to live. The study of history shapes a person’s worldview and imparts a certain behavioral pattern. Culture is largely translated from generation to generation through history, rather than biologically, and it is culture that suggests what to live for and how to live. Our perception of the present and our models of the future depend on our interpretation of the past. Imagine for a minute what would have happened if our famous historian Mykhailo Hrushevsky, the head of the Central Rada and the first president of the Ukrainian National Republic (UNR), belonged to the state-oriented rather than populist school of historiography. Alternatively, imagine that Vynnychenko, another leader of the UNR, was raised on the historical works of the former school rather than that of the Ukrainian populists (narodnyky). If this had been the case, these two largely influential figures would have directed their efforts at strengthening the new state instead of the pursuit of elusive socialist and democratic ideals.
The Poles are a good example here. The so-called “father” of the Second Rzeczpospolita (Commonwealth) Joseph Pilsudski was a socialist, but when the question of restoring the Polish state emerged, he adopted a firm state-oriented stance. Not the least important factor in this turn of events was the fact that during the long period of time when the Poles were a stateless nation, they were educated by historians and writers whose ideal was a Polish state rather than the “people.”
In the past, a particular interpretation of history has always depended on society’s demands, and since demands change, history is constantly being “rewritten” and adapted to the current situation. The leadership of the former USSR was perfectly aware of this phenomenon. Today this understanding is present in the leading countries of the world-the EU, the USA, and even in neighboring Russia, where considerable efforts are being made to write their “own” history, which would meet the demands and challenges of today. How the Russians go about it is another question.
Unfortunately, the way Ukrainian history is being taught at the popular level is more likely to disorient Ukrainians or even give them an inferiority complex. Moreover, for a long time our history was being written primarily by Russians rather than Ukrainians. They intentionally focused on episodes that were beneficial to them and hushed up facts that they considered inconvenient. Our popular history remains largely a part of Russian history. In most cases awareness of this Russian discourse is lacking, and it is simply taken for granted. This causes some people in Ukraine to erect monuments to Catherine II, Georgii Zhukov, and other Russian historical figures who would have to be evaluated negatively rather than positively in Ukraine. Another case in point is the promotion of certain Russian historical and cultural figures in the current media project “Great Ukrainians.”
It is significant that no one is suggesting that Hugo Kollataj, Tadeusz Kosciuszko, Juliusz Slowacki, or Kazimierz Pulaski (Casimir Pulaski) should be presented as great Ukrainians, even though all of them are in some way linked to Ukraine. Kollataj was born on the territory of contemporary Ukraine. He is known not only as a philosopher of the Enlightenment and one of the fathers of the Polish Constitution of May 3, 1971, but also as the founder of the Kremianets Lyceum, which was a precursor of Kyiv University. Slowacki was also born in Ukraine, and Ukrainian themes played a significant, if not dominant, role in his works. Kosciuszko, a hero on two continents, does not need an introduction. But few people know that he and his family were natives of Ukraine and that he was educated in the city of Liubeshiv in the Volyn region. Pulaski is largely unknown even to our professional historians who study and teach Ukrainian history. In the US he is recognized as a national hero for defending American independence. He was George Washington’s comrade-in-arms and has been called “the father of the American cavalry.” But he was a member of the Bar Confederation, which is something very bad for us because it was formed to fight against Russian autocracy. Meanwhile, Alexandr Suvorov, who crushed liberation movements in Russia and Europe, is represented as a positive hero.
At times, manifestations of this Russian discourse take on shocking and monstrous forms. For example, in Odesa a monument to Catherine II was recently erected, and The Day’s editor in chief Larysa Ivshyna was denied the right to give a talk at a Ukrainian national university because she took the liberty of saying that Russia is a big (bolshaia) rather than great (velikaia) country. No comment, as they say.
In general, you cannot read our popular historiography without bromide. This is where we have to agree with Vynnychenko.
First, our history is largely presented as a history of failures. A question immediately arises: who benefits from this perception? Textbooks and various kinds of popular scholarly literature teach us that our territory was constantly conquered and our people oppressed-by Tatars, Lithuanians, Hungarians, Poles, and, finally, Russians (however, references to Russians are couched in extremely politically correct terms).
We lost battles heroically: Khan Baty conquered Kyiv, Khmelnytsky lost the battle of Berestechko (now this failure is pompously celebrated every year), we remember and weep over the ruins of Baturyn, and so on and so forth. Of course, we need to remember about these things, but do we need to be so persistent in overemphasizing them?
As a matter of fact, Ukrainian lands were not conquered by the Mongol-Tatars. Princes from the Riurykide dynasty continued to rule here, even though they were considered vassals of the Golden Horde, and this is especially true of Volhynia and Galicia. Moreover, the princes of ancient Rus’ joined the Horde’s khans in their raids on Lithuania, Poland, and Hungary. This is true and we must not hush up these events. Their assessment is, however, a horse of a different color.
Objectively and in the light of historical circumstances, Ukrainian lands were not conquered by the Lithuanians or Poles either. These lands were incorporated into the Great Duchy of Lithuania and the Kingdom of Poland primarily through interdynastic marriages and certain political agreements. Of course, some things were not so simple and unambiguous, but authentic monuments of the late Middle Ages, like the poem “The Rocks of the Dnipro” (Dniprovi kameny), tell us that the population of Rus’- Ukraine of that time did not consider itself occupied by the Poles or Lithuanians. People thought that Rus’-Ukraine continued its existence as a separate ethnopolitical entity with its own rulers of the ancient Rus’ dynasty, the Riuryks.
Strictly speaking, Russia did not conquer Ukraine either; rather, it incorporated Ukraine as a result of military-political agreements. This is exactly how Ukraine’s union with Russia was perceived by the Cossack leadership of the day. A quick perusal of Semen Didovych’s poem “A Talk between Great Russia and Little Russia” provides sufficient proof.
Somehow we “forget” or at least fail to pay attention to our victories. We know about Berestechko, Baturyn, and Poltava but “forget” about Khotyn, Konotop, and the fact that the Ukrainian shield was nailed to the gates of Tsarhorod (Constantinople) and to the gates of Moscow by Petro Konashevych-Sahaidachny. Most Ukrainians have not heard of the magnificent victory won by the Ukrainian prince Kostiantyn Ostrozky near Orsha, where he defeated an 80,000-strong Muscovite army and saved the Great Duchy of Lithuania from Muscovite expansion. The prince’s victory over the 20,000-strong Tatar horde near Vyshivets is largely unknown. Our banknotes bear the images of Bohdan Khmelnytsky and Ivan Mazepa, who, we must confess, are more famous for their losses rather than their victories. Yet such brilliant military commanders and politicians as Prince Ostrozky and Hetman Konashevych- Sahaidachny remain in the background.
Second, our popular historiography remains predominantly populist in nature. We focus attention on the Cossacks and often idealize them beyond measure while largely ignoring the deeds of the Ukrainian aristocratic families-the Ostrozkys, Vyshnevetskys, Sanhushkos, Chetvertynskys, Chortoryiskys, Velyhorskys, Radziwills, Pototskys, Zaslavskys, and other dynasties. The recently published works of Natalia Yakovenko and Leontii Voitovych explore these topics, but they are only the first heralds in Ukrainian historical science. In our history textbooks Ukrainian aristocrats are treated by and large as enemies and traitors. Therefore, we painlessly hand them over to our neighbors-the Poles, Lithuanians, and Belarusians.
Of course, the role of Ukrainian aristocratic dynasties was not unambiguous. But were the activities of hetmans and Cossack leadership unambiguous?
Populism has created problems for us on many occasions and will likely continue to do so. We have already mentioned that in 1917-18, when Ukrainians had an opportunity to create their own state, their leaders happened to be people who were guided by populist stereotypes. They began putting into life socialist demagoguery; they split the Ukrainian nation into “people” and “masters” and refused to utilize the assistance of the latter. This in no small way contributed to the failure of the young Ukrainian state.
Third, our popular historiography is not geared toward showing the achievements of Ukrainians. We often reject elitist things of which fully-fledged nations are proud. For example, how much do we know about the Ostroh Bible? When the topic is brought up, in most cases our attention is focused on the fact that it was printed by the Russian publisher Ivan Fedorov, who, incidentally, called himself and signed his name as Fedorovych (a Ukrainian-sounding form of the same name). Russian discourse shows itself again, for the umpteenth time. At the same time, we forget that this is the first European publication of a corpus of Biblical texts compiled from various sources (Greek, Slavic, Latin, and possibly also Judaic). How much do we know about the academies in Ostroh, Zamostia, or Kyselyn-the first higher educational institutions on Ukrainian territory?
Here is a characteristic example. Foreign historians (Polish, Lithuanian, and Belarusian) speak with certainty that Ostroh Academy was the first institution of that level in Eastern Europe. It is only in Ukraine that some call it, with incomprehensible obduracy, a collegium, some a school, and still others - a circle. There are those who doubt its existence altogether, despite the fact that Hrushevsky, the father of Ukrainian historiography, called Ostroh Academy the first center of new higher education and enlightenment, which illuminated all of Eastern Europe, like a torch.
What do we know about Vasyl-Kostiantyn Ostrozky, who was the de facto ruler of Ukraine for half a century after his appointment to the highest office in Ruthenian Lithuania-voivode of Kyiv- on Dec. 15, 1559? He was nominated for the Polish throne twice: in 1573, after the death of Zygmunt August, and in 1586, after the death of Stefan Batory. But he was rejected both times because he was Ruthenian and Orthodox. This man, whose name has been undeservedly forgotten by our historians, was instrumental in the renaissance of Kyiv, the Orthodox Church, higher education, and the revival of the entire Ukrainian nation.
Have we heard about Andrii Vyshovaty whose works were read and used by John Locke and Isaac Newton? Do we know all the famous Russians, Poles, and representatives of other cultures who were Ukrainians by birth? Finally, are we aware that ethnic Ukrainians were Nobel Prize winners?
Fourth, Russian historiography, and Russian culture in general, have contributed to the presence of numerous anti-Western elements in our popular historiography. Western-Catholic and Polish- influences are treated as something “inimical to the Ukrainian people.” Popular historians interpret Uniate Catholicism in the same way, ignoring the fact that the level of Ukrainian national consciousness is highest in the regions where it is dominant.
One more fact is worth mentioning: the myth about the “Great Patriotic War” remains an extremely important factor that influences the historical awareness of most Ukrainians. Our textbooks perpetuate this Stalinist term as opposed to the concept of the Second World War. Instead of exploring the true role of Ukraine and Ukrainians in World War II, we continue to produce Stalinist Soviet myths. This is the reason behind the fanatical and absurd unwillingness to recognize UPA veterans and the tragicomic conflicts that this attitude causes.
In general, after reading “generally accepted” Ukrainian history, a miserable picture opens up before us. It turns out that Ukrainians are somehow feeble and were easily conquered by “foreign invaders.” They are a gray mass, devoid of its own elite. They are unable to create truly great things of worldwide value or set up their own state bodies. Therefore, it is better for them to be governed by some “big brother” — best of all, the Russian one.
Would you want to be Ukrainian after reading this kind of history? Our question is rhetorical. So we need to consider reconstructing our own, truly Ukrainian, concept of Ukrainian history, which would be adequate for our present circumstances and meet our contemporary needs. This is not an appeal for repeating Stalinist methods in the construction of historical science. Rather, we are calling for textbooks of truly Ukrainian history with its brilliant military and intellectual victories.
