Reform and Its Unintended Results

The goal of Mikhail Gorbachev’s perestroika was to modernize the Soviet system in order to preserve it. But because change threatened the interests of the well-entrenched party apparatus, many of its members sought to block genuine reform by all means possible.

In Ukraine, widespread anger at the government’s handling of the nuclear disaster at Chernobyl brought on the first major wave of criticism of the system. Resentment focused on the criminally negligent manner in which bureaucrats in Moscow had made decisions that directly, and tragically, affected the lives of the population in Ukraine. Moreover, the Chernobyl disaster roused the people to an awareness of other ecological crimes -manifest in the befouled air, the dying rivers, the poisoned soil – that Soviet economic planners had perpetrated in their land. The new revelations, together with the declining standard of living, forced even the most loyal to question the merits of the system in which they lived.

Their appetite for criticism having been whetted, Ukrainians turned to other grievances. The rapidly deteriorating status of the Ukrainian language was a pressing and perennial concern, and not only were leading Ukrainian writers encouraged to speak out more boldly in protest, but on 11 February 1989, they created the Taras Shevchenko Ukrainian Language Society, the first large-scale organization in the republic that was not controlled by the party.

Attempts to deal with the “blank spots” in Ukrainian history followed. Notably, it was writers and journalists, not historians, who boldly broached topics that had long been considered taboo. Most dramatic and shocking were revelations concerning the Famine of 1932–33, the memory of which Soviet historiography had long sought to repress. Along with these revelations came sensational reports of the discovery of mass graves of Ukrainians shot by the NKVD in the 1930s and 1940s. As awareness of the extent to which their recent history had been falsified spread, many Ukrainians developed a thirst for non-Soviet, nationally oriented interpretations of their past. Interest in Cossackdom as a quintessentially Ukrainian phenomenon grew, culminating in massive celebrations in the summer of 1990 commemorating the 500th anniversary of the founding of the Zaporozhian Sich. Articles appeared presenting Mazepa’s attempts to break away from Moscow as an act of patriotism rather than an incarnation of treachery. The efforts of the once-derided Ukrainian governments of 1917–20 to attain independence were now interpreted as the expression of legitimate national aspirations. Even the bitterly anti-Soviet struggle of the UPA was glorified, especially in the western regions.

As the nationally oriented interpretations of Ukraine’s past gained in favor, so did national symbols. To the great indignation of the authorities, the long-banned blue and yellow flag of the national movement appeared in the spring of 1989, first in western Ukraine and then in Kiev, with increasing frequency. More Ukrainians learned the words of the proscribed national anthem and sported the nationalist trident on their lapels. These symbols seemed to perform a dual function: they indicated an individual’s support for national aspirations and disdain for the Soviet system.

During 1989, the slowly but steadily growing tide of change in Ukraine crossed a critical threshold: it moved from verbal expression to political activity. A major breakthrough were the elections to the all-Union Congress of Peoples Deputies, which took place on 26 March. By Western standards, the elections in Ukraine were far from fair: they were accompanied by numerous cases of vote rigging and intimidation by the party apparat. Nonetheless, the establishment candidates suffered many embarrassing setbacks. Moreover, widespread resentment over the party’s attempts to manipulate the elections prompted opponents of the party to prepare more carefully for the next electoral campaign. Rukh

Throughout the year, “informals,” that is, organizations not legally sanctioned, grew in number and variety throughout the USSR. Estimates placed their total number at about 30,000. In Ukraine, informals such as the Lions’ Society (Tovarystvo Leva) were most active in the western oblasts. In early 1989, a number of these “informal” organizations, supported by well-known writers and scholars in Kiev, formed the Popular Movement for Restructuring in Ukraine (Rukh). As an indication of its support, the newspaper of the Writers Union, Literaturna Ukraina, published a draft of the program of the new movement. By the time the organization held its founding congress in Kiev, on 8–10 September 1989, it had about 280,000 members, and the number was growing daily. In its program, Rukh committed itself to upholding the sovereignty of the Ukrainian republic, to promoting the Ukrainian language and culture, to voicing ecological concerns, and to supporting the democratization of the political, social, and economic systems. Special stress was placed on the need to maintain the solidarity of all ethnic groups in Ukraine, and consequently, a significant number of Russians, Jews, and members of other ethnic groups joined the movement. Thus, although Rukh was a broadly based social, political, and national organization, it was not primarily a nationalistic one.

Popular support for Rukh grew rapidly, but it was unevenly distributed. To an overwhelming extent it was based in western Ukraine and among the Kiev intelligentsia. In eastern and southern Ukraine, where the party maintained an iron grip, support for Rukh was minimal. To publicize its goals and attract new members, Rukh made use of another new feature of the glasnost era, the mass demonstration. As early as 1988, mass demonstrations in support of national issues, involving as many as 50,000, even 200,000, had taken place in Lviv. In the next year, they became frequent in Kiev. The largest mass demonstration was the Rukh-sponsored human-chain organized on 21 January 1990 to commemorate the union of the ZUNR and UNR in 1919 and to symbolize the solidarity of all Ukrainians. It stretched for 300 miles from Lviv to Kiev and attracted about 300,000 participants.

Rukh was not the only widespread anti-establishment movement to appear in Ukraine. In July 1990, the miners of heavily Russian and Russified Donetsk and Dniepropetrovsk staged a massive strike that eventually involved 250,000 workers. They too came out against the privileged position of the Communist party. Initially, they were unwilling to ally themselves with Rukh, considering it to be too nationalistic. But in time and as a result of the mediation of the more nationally conscious miners from Lviv oblast (Chervonohrad), the miners and Rukh seemed on the verge of finding common ground. The new politics

In this climate of unprecedented activism and excitement, Ukraine prepared for its first relatively free elections. They were held to select deputies to the republic’s parliament (Verkhovna Rada) and the local councils. The contenders were, on the one hand, the candidates of the newly formed Democratic Bloc, which included Rukh, the Helsinki Watch Committee, ecological groups, and numerous “informal” organizations and, on the other hand, the Communist party candidates.

Capitalizing on the euphoria of the moment and the confusion of its opponents, the Democratic Bloc achieved a major victory in parliament when, on 16 July 1990, it pushed through the historic declaration of Ukrainian sovereignty, which formally announced the country’s intention to control its own affairs. The Communists

Accustomed to an orderly, predictable, and tightly controlled political system, the Communists were shocked by the previously unimaginable developments of 1989 and early 1990.

But although these developments in Ukraine, as well as in the USSR as a whole, threw the Communist establishment off-balance, they did not fundamentally weaken its control of the major levers of power and influence – the media, the police, the KGB, the military, industry, and the collective farms. So when students in Kiev staged a successful hunger strike in early October 1990 in support of Ukrainian sovereignty and forced the resignation of Vitalii Masol, the Communist chairman of the republic’s Council of Ministers, the Communist establishment in Ukraine decided that matters had gone too far. An indication of its new, get-tough approach was the arrest, on clearly contrived charges, of Stefan Khmara, a west Ukrainian deputy noted for his radically nationalistic and anti-Communist views.

Meanwhile, serious weaknesses, exacerbated and exploited by the Communists, began to appear among the proponents of change in Ukraine. After its initial successes, Rukh, suffering from poor organization, a shortage of fresh ideas, and in-fighting among its leaders, began to lose momentum. Its strength was further sapped by the appearance of several political parties that, with the exception of the relatively strong Ukrainian Republican party, led by Levko Lukianenko, were small and weak and fragmented the democratic forces.

Opponents of Ukrainian sovereignty were able to capitalize also on the fact that for centuries Ukrainians had been prevented from developing a sense of national solidarity and territorial integrity. Conservatives did not find it difficult to play on the differences between east and west Ukrainians. In the heavily Russified Donbas and Donetsk regions as well as in Odessa and other parts of southern Ukraine, voices were heard advocating separation from Ukraine. In Transcarpathia, there were some who argued that the autochtonous population were Rusyns, not Ukrainians. And Crimea, largely Russian and completely controlled by Communist hard-liners, actually declared its autonomy from Kiev. Religious activity

Radical changes occurred also in other areas of society, most notably in the sphere of religion. As the Communist ideology rapidly lost its appeal and Communist political control weakened, religious life revived with surprising speed. In western Ukraine the banned Greek Catholic church emerged from the “catacombs” and demanded restoration of its former status. Its new-found confidence was based on mounting popular support, reflected in the increasing number of west Ukrainians, both the young and the elderly, who returned to the open practice of their traditional religion. The festive and massive celebrations of the Christmas holidays in January 1990 were an especially telling demonstration of the Ukrainian Catholic church’s resurgence. Soon afterward, on 26 January, the Catholic hierarchy, led by Bishop Volodymyr Sterniuk, called a synod, which declared the forced liquidation of the church in 1946 to be null and void. Immediately thereafter, the hierarchy launched a drive for the legalization of the Ukrainian Catholic church and the restoration of its former properties. Meanwhile, about 2000 parishes in the western oblasts returned to Catholicism, and the democrat-controlled Lviv oblast council sanctioned, despite Orthodox protests, the return of St George’s cathedral in Lviv to the Catholics. In March 1991, Cardinal Myroslav Lubachivsky, the highest ranking Ukrainian Catholic prelate, left Rome and returned to Lviv to lead the 5 million members of his church. An impressive high point in the revival occurred in August 1992, when close to a million faithful participated in the transfer of the venerated Patriarch Iosyf Slipy’s remains from Rome to Lviv.

Fearful of losing ground to the resurgent Catholics at a time of reviving national consciousness, the Russian Orthodox church in Ukraine changed its name to the Ukrainian Orthodox Church in January 1990. It continued, however, to recognize the leadership of the Patriarch of Moscow. In the spring of 1990, a new contender for Orthodox loyalties appeared when the Ukrainian Autocephalous Orthodox church (UAOC), banned since the 1930s and based abroad, reemerged. At a synod in June, the clergy and about 1650 parishes that had defected from the Moscow patriarchate chose the venerable Mystyslav Skrypnyk, leader of the UAOC in the West, as its patriarch. In October 1990, he returned to Kiev after a forty-six-year absence.

The revival of religion, however, brought some difficulties with it, notably the renewal of old religious feuds between Catholics and Orthodox. The feuds were especially bitter in the western regions, where communities were often split over the question of whether to remain Orthodox or to return to Catholicism. Conflicts about which group had title to church property added fuel to the fire. There was also growing friction within the ranks of Ukraine’s 35 million Orthodox, with some choosing to join the newly re-instituted UAOC and others remaining faithful to the Moscow-controlled Ukrainian Orthodox church. Even this last body became fragmented. The controversial Metropolitan Filaret of Kiev broke with Moscow in the spring of 1992 and proclaimed himself leader of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church-Kiev Patriarchate. Although he had the support of President Kravchuk and parliament, only about 350 parishes recognized his authority. Meanwhile, the majority of Ukraine’s Orthodox, led by thirty bishops and numbering more than 5000 parishes, proclaimed their loyalty to the newly elected Metropolitan Volodymyr of the Ukrainian Autonomous church (formerly the Russian Orthodox church). For better or worse, pluralism now became a fact of life in religion as well as politics. Change and its opponents

By the end of 1990, the euphoria, optimism, and activism of the previous year had waned considerably. In their place came a growing concern about the rapidly deteriorating economic situation, which, many Communists argued, was the result of the “ill conceived and chaotic reforms” introduced by Gorbachev and his reformers. Unsettling contradictions permeated many aspects of life in Ukraine and the USSR in general. On the one hand, five years of perestroika and glasnost had brought radical changes. The Communist ideology, the very basis of the Soviet system, was increasingly acknowledged to be fatally, irreparably flawed.

The legitimacy of the Communist party’s claim to a leading role in society (and to control of much of its wealth) was therefore called into question. The once-scorned market economy was viewed with mounting favor. A revival of national consciousness, spurred by strong anti-centrist attitudes, was clearly evident in Ukraine and all the other republics of the USSR. And, perhaps most decisive, there was a noticeable waning of the psychology of fear that had for so long allowed the few to intimidate the many.

On the other hand, the years of perestroika had brought relatively little in the way of concrete structural change in Soviet society. The Communists still dominated the social, economic, and political establishment. Indeed, they seemed to occupy a no-lose position: if structural reforms remained minimal, they would retain their privileged positions, and if a market economy were introduced, they were best positioned to take advantage of new opportunities. The tyranny of the bureaucrats remained unshaken. Moreover, empty store shelves frequently confronted the harried consumer, and the price of the few goods and services available continued to rise at an alarming rate. Little wonder that large segments of the population, particularly the less sophisticated, blue-collar workers and villagers, not to mention the hard-line Communists, appeared ready to accept a return to the “old ways.”

Nationally conscious Ukrainians, however, could point to some positive developments during this period. Support for Ukrainian sovereignty appeared in unexpected quarters. Characteristically cautious and circumspect, Leonid Kravchuk more frequently expressed his commitment to self-determination. In parliament, a small but growing faction of Communist deputies, the so-called sovereignty-Communists, emerged as a contemporary version of the national-Communists of the 1920s. Moreover, as the referendum of 17 March indicated, many Russians and other non-Ukrainians in the republic were not averse to sovereignty if it would improve their standard of living.

On the international level also, there were encouraging developments. For generations the world had remained oblivious to Ukraine and Ukrainians. But as it became apparent that the USSR was disintegrating, the aspirations of its second-largest republic, which equaled in size and population the major countries of Europe, attracted greater interest. A reflection of the new attitude was the visit of the American president, George Bush, to Kiev in July 1991, even though the president disillusioned many of his listeners by lecturing them on the dangers of nationalism and separatism.

By the summer of 1991, the sense of general apathy, political paralysis, and debilitating self-doubt had deepened. The economy continued to deteriorate, raising doubts about the state’s ability to feed its population in the coming winter. Three key political issues loomed large in Ukraine: the drafting of a new constitution, the election of a president, and, most important, the new union treaty, which was to give the republics greater power in a fundamentally restructured and decentralized Soviet Union. The significance of the proposed union treaty for Ukraine could hardly be exaggerated: at issue was the question of whether or not Ukraine would become a full-fledged sovereign and independent state. It was clear that crucial decisions would have to be made soon. The question was who would make them and how they would be made. The attempted coup

On 19 August 1991, Communist hard-liners in Moscow made a desperate attempt to forestall the fundamental restructuring of the Soviet system. After detaining Gorbachev in Crimea, they proclaimed a state of emergency and formed an Emergency Committee to run the country. The hastily formed committee counted on supporters in the Communist party leadership, the military, and the KGB to help it preserve as much as possible of the old order. But astonishingly poor planning and the determined opposition of Boris Yeltsin, president of the Russian Republic, and his supporters in Moscow foiled the plotters. In sharp contrast to Yeltsin, in Ukraine Leonid Kravchuk adopted a cautious, ambiguous policy: while declaring that the state of emergency was inapplicable to Ukraine, he refrained from openly opposing the Emergency Committee. By 21 August, it was clear that the attempted coup had failed. Yet despite the brevity and comic-opera flavour of the event, its consequences were epochal.

The attempted coup accelerated the processes that it had sought to forestall. It totally compromised the defenders of the old order, specifically the Communist party, which was implicated in the conspiracy. Moreover, the hallowed principle of Soviet (and Russian) centralism, which allowed a small clique in the Kremlin to decide the fate of the numerous nations that made up the Soviet Union, was dealt a fatal blow. In short, the failed coup created an opportunity for those who were dissatisfied with Moscow’s rule to cast if off. Ukraine, particularly the democrats in parliament, seized the opportunity in dramatic fashion: on 24 August 1991, the Ukrainian parliament, by an almost unanimous vote, proclaimed the independence of the republic. The panicky and disconcerted Communist deputies managed to add the qualification that a referendum on the issue be held in December. An even more painful blow to the old order came on 29 August, when parliament banned the Communist Party of Ukraine for its involvement in the coup. Gorbachev resigned from the party in Moscow, and Kravchuk did likewise in Kiev. One by one, the other republics also issued declarations of independence, and in September the Baltic republics formally withdrew from the USSR. The Soviet Union’s days were numbered.