Society

Soviet society was regimented, oppressive, and, in its final decades, stagnant. Nonetheless, it was not without positive features. Many Soviet citizens accepted the official view that their society, consisting of the worker and peasant classes and a stratum of intelligentsia, was not divided into rich and poor, exploiters and exploited.

Of course, the distinctions between the party and bureaucratic elite, the intelligentsia, and the many varieties of workers and peasants were much greater than many cared to admit. However, thanks to an accessible education system, upward social mobility was widespread. Moreover, salary differences between high officials and lowly workers were relatively modest (it was in the unofficial “benefits” associated with a higher position that the great differences lay). This resulted in a vast “middle class” – that is, a majority who had roughly equivalent incomes and living standards. Moreover, a social welfare system extended from cradle to grave, education and health care were free, and employment was assured. All this fostered a strong sense of personal security and predictability in the life of the average Soviet citizen.

This changed radically, and for the worse, in the 1990s. Most striking was the rapid and blatant growth of socioeconomic inequality. The emergence of a new elite became a glaring fact of life. Its upper echelons, possessing both wealth and power, probably constituted much less than.5% of the population. Below them was another category, consisting mostly of former Soviet blackmarketeers turned “businessmen,” top bureaucrats and directors of vast enterprises, and even some genuine entrepreneurs. Its members, encompassing perhaps 2% of the population, possessed wealth but lacked the political power of the top stratum. Unlike in Soviet times, this elite no longer attempted to camouflage the attributes of its privileged status.

It built luxurious homes, acquired expensive foreign cars, and engaged in other forms of conspicuous consumption. It also strove to isolate itself from the masses by inhabiting exclusive neighborhoods, sending its children to private schools, often abroad, and travelling in chauffeured cars, often accompanied by bodyguards. And, unlike in Soviet times, its members assiduously strove to transform themselves into a hereditary class.¹⁰

About 10% of the population managed to acquire some of the features of a Western middle class: they were small businesspeople, managers and directors, employees of foreign firms, well-placed administrators, and professionals – in short, people who profited, in a modest fashion, from the market economy. While not wealthy in Western terms, they had enough income to live in relative comfort and even enjoy some luxuries, such as a comfortable apartment, an automobile, a foreign vacation, or imported clothes. However, this stratum was far too small to constitute a genuine middle class that could function as a stable core of society. But, like the elite, it did have reason to be satisfied with the status quo.

The vast bulk, about 75%, of the population, however, experienced an unmitigated socioeconomic disaster. This formerly secure Soviet middle class was abruptly plunged into a bitter struggle for survival. It was, first of all, bereft of money. Hyperinflation wiped out its savings, the economic crisis meant that salaries were not paid or were postponed, rising prices put goods out of reach, and unemployment or underemployment grew steadily. More and more of its members sank into poverty, a characteristic of which was spending more than half of their income on food. By 1996, over 33% of Ukraine’s population, or 17 million people, could be described as being poor or very poor. And most of the rest of the old middle class barely managed to stay above the poverty line.¹¹

The problem lay not only in the lack of money; the social services and welfare that the state once provided also deteriorated drastically.

Cuts in health care were so great that hospitals could not buy the most basic medicines, and patients were advised to bring their own. The pensions of the elderly shrank to an average of $8–12 a month. The costs of education became ever more burdensome, especially since unpaid teachers often expected some “support” from parents, and unscrupulous university officials demanded bribes to assure admission to their institutions. All this was frequently accompanied by shortages of electricity and fuel, which left entire cities dark and homes unheated. Moreover, the environment, even discounting the aftereffects of Chernobyl, was polluted to the extreme. Certain segments of the former middle class were especially vulnerable to this avalanche of hardships: the humanities intelligentsia – scholars, pedagogues, artists – lost the generous state support they had enjoyed and found it difficult to adjust to new conditions. The weak – the elderly, single mothers, and orphans -were also hard hit. In 2000 there were over 100,000 homeless minors in the country. The bottom 10–12% of society – the derelicts, the alcoholics, the imprisoned, and the mentally and physically impaired – were often reduced to begging for their sustenance. With the vast majority of Ukraine’s population destitute and disillusioned, it was, indeed, a wonder that a violent social upheaval did not occur.

To cope with these setbacks, Ukraine’s citizens adopted a variety of survival tactics. Those who were fit and energetic sought additional jobs, often working at two or three, usually in the shadow economy, to make ends meet. Many, especially elderly women, engaged in petty trade, standing for many hours in subway entrances or local bazaars to sell one or two cheap items. Others, notably the young, travelled to neighboring countries, especially Poland and Turkey, to engage in small-scale commerce. Hundreds of thousands also sought work abroad, working for minimal wages and in terrible conditions. As might be expected, some young males turned to crime, joining the “Mafia” gangs that controlled much commercial activity.

But by far the most widespread means of supplementing one’s livelihood was the ubiquitous garden plot that most citizens acquired in the final years of the USSR. Because they were a major source of food, they were assiduously worked by young and old, educated and uneducated, urban and as well rural inhabitants. Indeed, the garden plot became the primary focal point of “leisure time” activity.

The demographic costs of these hardships were catastrophic. In 1989 the average lifespan of men and women in Ukraine was 66 and 75 respectively; by 2000 it sank to 63 and 73. Men lived ten years less than North American males. Such a precipitous drop in longevity in an industrialized country was unprecedented. Only Russia experienced worse. Previously controlled diseases spread rapidly: between 1990 and 2000, the incidence of tuberculosis rose by 75%. HIV, acquired mostly from injecting drug use, soared from 400 cases in 1994 to an estimated 250,000 in 2000. Given these conditions, Ukrainian families were loath to have children. During the 1990s there were only 79 children per family; one in four families had no children at all. Not surprisingly, the desire to emigrate was intense and widespread, especially among the young. Only the reluctance of countries to accept immigrants prevented a mass exodus. Nonetheless, over 500,000 of Ukraine’s inhabitants, often the best and brightest, left the country during the decade. Emigration rates were especially high among the country’s Jews, about 300,000 of whom emigrated to Israel.¹² Because of the early deaths, low birth rates, and emigration, Ukraine’s population declined dramatically. In 1989 it was almost 52 million; by 2000 it had sunk to 49.7 million. Predictions were that by 2026, it would be only 42 million.¹³ This, on top of the horrendous population losses in 1917–21, 1933, and 1941–5, and the aftereffects of Chernobyl, led many to wonder how much demographic punishment one nation was capable of handling.

Civil society

A vast and widening gulf, usually expressed in terms of “us” and “them,” existed between the state and those who controlled it, on the one hand, and the vast majority of the population, on the other. Given their alienation from and distrust of the state, what means did various segments of Ukrainian society have to defend their interests? Political parties, as noted above, were unable to fulfill this function. For a brief period, Rukh appeared to be a genuine mass movement that could and did affect the course of events, but internal conflicts, poor policy decisions, and weak leadership led to its rapid decline and fragmentation.

There were, however, huge organizations, rooted in Soviet times, that professed to represent the interests of large segments of society. By far the largest was the Federation of Labor Unions (FPU). In 1994, it consisted of about 20 million members – that is, 40% of the labor force and 97% of all unionized workers. But instead of defending the interests of workers before the country’s largest employer, the state, the FPU sought to maintain the status quo. As in Soviet times, many factory directors were also elected as union leaders because they could easily pressure workers to vote for them. As directors of state-owned enterprises, they cultivated close links with the government. Moreover, the government provided funds for the FPU social welfare fund, the federation’s most appealing feature. Consequently, the union leadership was loath to challenge the government and the ruling elite. With leaders such as these, it was little wonder that the ostensibly huge and potentially powerful labor unions remained an essentially conservative force, one that had limited political impact and that did little to improve the lot of its apathetic membership. The independent union of miners, based in Donetsk and numbering about 65,000, was an exception. In 1991, 1993, and 1996 it staged disruptive strikes, but these failed to attract widespread support and brought few benefits to the strikers.

In the countryside, social activism was even weaker. There, another Soviet holdover, the Kolhoz Council, which encompassed almost all of Ukraine’s 9000 collectives farms, reigned supreme. Its purported goal was to defend the interests of collective farmers and, specifically, to obtain funds and equipment for them from the state. But here also, it was the collective farm directors who controlled the organization. Since they desperately needed to maintain the collective farm system, they used the council to obstruct agrarian reforms and especially the emergence of private farms. Close links between the council and the Ministry of Agriculture made it difficult to distinguish between representatives of the agricultural workers and the government. In contrast, the Ukrainian Farmers Organization, founded in 1994 and consisting of 15,000 private farmers, was a genuinely grass-roots organization. However, it was numerically too weak to have an impact. Nonetheless, by the end of the 1990s there were indications that the old guard’s monolithic control of the countryside was beginning to crack. This was especially evident in divisions that appeared among the collective farm leadership. The majority, united in the Peasant party, still opposed reforms, but a more liberal or flexible minority, associated with the breakaway Agrarian Party for Reform, rejected the unbending conservatism of their colleagues. In the short term, however, it did not seem likely that the long-suffering collective farm workers would experience any major improvement in their depressed condition.

Not surprisingly, the segment of society that was most effective in defending its interests consisted of the big industrialists and businessmen. The Ukrainian Union of Industrialists and Entrepreneurs (USPP) was founded in 1990. Its 14,000 members employed about 4.5 million people. Essentially this was the umbrella organization of the new oligarchy. Ostensibly it supported reforms and the drive towards a market economy, its primary function was actually to obtain subsidies from the state. Therefore, a significant number of its well-financed members sought and obtained important positions in government. But fissures appeared within this interest group also. More-liberal elements supported the reforms proposed by Kuchma, a former member of their organization, while others continued to obstruct them. Conflicts between regional clans, such as those from Donetsk and Dniepro-petrovsk, also limited the efforts of this potentially powerful sector to present a united front.

During the 1990s a qualitatively new type of social organization, the nongovernmental organization (NGO), appeared. Realizing the government was unable to address many of their needs, social activists began forming youth groups, social service societies, arts and professional associations, and women’s organizations. Previously, activities of this type were state-controlled; now individuals and groups spontaneously undertook them. Democrats warmly welcomed the appearance of such groups because they saw in them the roots of civil society, of people taking charge of their own affairs and not waiting for the state to address their needs. By 1999, there were over 19,000 NGOS registered in Ukraine. However, only about 5000 actually functioned. After the initial enthusiasm waned and funds, always scarce, dried up, most NGOS maintained only a formal existence.

It soon became evident that, due to Soviet paternalism, which encouraged a reliance on the state, many Ukrainians lacked the inclination and the skills needed for community organization. This was especially the case in eastern and southern Ukraine. In the West, where there was a strong tradition of community organization, the situation was somewhat more encouraging. The stifling, intrusive bureaucracy also complicated matters. Moreover, the fact that some businesses attempted to use NGOS as a means of avoiding taxes or that organizers tried to have them serve their personal interests added to skepticism about NGOS. Nonetheless, some not only survived but expanded. Noteworthy among them were Plast, a 10,000-member scouting organization that was transplanted to Ukraine from the Diaspora; student and professional associations, especially that of the lawyers, a new profession; social service groups dealing with disadvantaged children; and hundreds of local and several national women’s organizations.

Certainly women needed organizations that could address their concerns and defend their interests. Bearing the dual burden of job and family, they frequently encountered traditional patriarchal views as to their role in society and the “glass ceiling” when it came to promotion at work. In the harsh economic environment, they were particularly vulnerable. Many were single mothers with poorly paid jobs. Among the unemployed, about 75% were women, two-thirds of them with a higher education. An estimated 400,000 women had to seek employment abroad, where they were often ensnared in the sex trade. Although women were in the majority in medicine, the civil service, and the judiciary, as well as in primary and secondary education, they rarely reached the top positions in these fields. In 1995, of the 65 ministers and heads of key government committees, not one was female. And of 270 vice-ministers, only 6 were women.¹⁴

Traditional attitudes, fatigue, and lack of time explained, in large part, why 97% of women did not participate in politics (the participation rate among men was not much higher). The large women’s organizations such as the Women’s Union (Souiz Zhinok) and the Women’s Community (Zhinocha Hromada), both of which were established in 1992–3 and were originally associated with the national-democratic camp, concentrated on social services for the disadvantaged and did little to encourage greater political activism. Except for the establishment of several centers for gender studies at universities in Kiev, Lviv, and Kharkiv, feminism made little headway in Ukraine. The potential for women’s organizations to play a leading role in the creation of a civil society remained unfulfilled.

Hopes that the media might evolve into a strong, independent means of expressing social concerns and defending public interests were also disappointed. Ukraine’s media network was considerable, but it was far from independent. Of the 5500 registered print media in Ukraine, 70% were government-affiliated or -owned. Another 25% belonged to “workers collectives,” a euphemism for oligarchic ownership. Only 700 newspapers and journals had subscription rates of over 10,000, and 451 newspapers were national in scope. Of the 700, only 208 were published in Ukrainian. Because of economic hardship, subscription rates for print media declined dramatically: in 1996 they were only one-fourth of what they were in 1992.¹⁵ This increased the impact of television and radio. Here, too, most channels and stations were government-owned, although the level of private ownership in the electronic media was higher than in print.

Given the state’s overwhelming presence in the media, a pro-establishment bias was the norm. Although the ideologically based propaganda of the Soviet type was a thing of the past, various forms of censorship and intimidation, exercised by the state or the oligarchs, continued to exist: a number of reporters and editors died in mysterious circumstances, programs critical of the government were forced off the air, and recalcitrant newspapers were blackmailed frequently with threats of “tax audits.” Government intimidation of the media was particularly widespread during the 1999 presidential elections, raising serious doubts about Kuchma’s commitment to democracy. Religion

An area of broadly based, if not always benevolent, activity was religion. In the final years of the USSR, there was a major upsurge in religious activism in Ukraine: for example, in 1988–9 the number of parishes grew by 53%, and in 1990–1, their number expanded by 20% more. By 1996 there were over 16,000 parishes and religious communities in Ukraine. Polls indicated that, despite decades of anti-religious propaganda, over half of the population were believers and about one-quarter practiced their religion. Of religious believers, about 52% were Orthodox, 20% were Greek Catholic, and 20% were Protestant. By the middle of the decade the expansion of parishes and religious communities abated noticeably. Meanwhile, religious conflicts and divisions within these communities multiplied.

During the Kravchuk administration, the government harbored hopes that religion, and specifically Orthodoxy, might help to consolidate a disoriented society. Consequently, it supported the idea of creating a single, state-supported Orthodox church. To fulfill this function, the Ukrainian Orthodox Church, Kiev Patriarchate (UOC, K-P), was created. It consisted of parishes in Ukraine that had broken away from the Moscow-centered Russian Orthodox Church, rejected the ecclesiastical overlordship of the Moscow patriarch, and demanded ecclesiastical independence (autocephaly) for Orthodoxy in Ukraine. But the undertaking encountered major difficulties. Patriarch Filaret of Kiev, the UOC, K-P’S leader, failed to gain the loyalty of many of the hierarchs and faithful. Moreover, the Russian Orthodox Church, which prior to 1991 had two-thirds of its parishes in Ukraine, strongly opposed the new church. As a countermove, it created an autonomous Ukrainian Orthodox Church, which continued to recognize the Moscow patriarchate (uoc, M-P). Finally, the Orthodox in western Ukraine refused to recognized either of these churches and proclaimed loyalty to the Ukrainian Autocephalous Orthodox Church (UAOC). Meanwhile, the rejuvenated Ukrainian Catholic Church maintained a totally separate existence. It soon became apparent that, instead of consolidating Ukrainian society, religious denominations only fragmented it all the more. Consequently, Kuchma adopted a neutral, hands-off policy in regard to religious issues, all the more so since the constitution of 1996 declared that all religions were to be treated equally and the separation between church and state maintained.

To a large extent, regional variations influenced the extent and nature of religious activity in Ukraine. The western regions were the most dynamic: although they encompassed only about 20% of the population, they accounted for about 40% of its parishes. For example, the Ternopil region had one parish or religious community for every 807 inhabitants; in the Dniepropetrovsk region there was one for every 16,900. The strong national consciousness in these regions indicated a mutually supportive relationship between religious belief and a sense of national identity. Galicia remained the stronghold of the Greek Catholic Church, which again grew to the more than 3000 parishes that it had had prior to 1939. However, its attempts to establish its own patriarchate and expand eastward were frustrated by the Vatican’s complex arrangements with the Moscow patriarchate. Nonetheless, Ukrainian Catholics did manage to establish an eparchy in the Kiev region and some parishes in eastern Ukraine. Meanwhile, in a totally new development, strongly religious Galicia also became a major base of Orthodoxy, and specifically of the patriotic UAOC, which had 650 parishes. In central Ukraine, the uoc, K-P, with about 1300 parishes, was most influential; in the russified East and South, it was the uoc, M-P.

With well over 6000 parishes, the uoc, M-P is the largest church in Ukraine, although, because many of its parishes are small, the numerical strength of this church is not as great as the number of parishes might indicate. From the point of view of nation- and state-building, it is highly problematic: it owes its allegiance to a leader based in Moscow; it employs not Ukrainian, but Church Slavonic in its services; and it espouses a pan-Eastern Slavic religious and cultural unity. Ironically, one of its strongest political supporters is the Communist party. In the long run, this association with Moscow and the left might prove to be one of the weak points of this church. And it might lead it to negotiate with the other two Orthodox churches on the issue of Orthodox unity in Ukraine. But, despite the urging of the political leadership for the creation of a single Orthodox church in Ukraine, such a development is not likely to occur in the near future.

Other denominations also experienced rapid growth in the early 1990s. By 1996 there were close to 4000 various Protestant, primarily Baptist, churches in Ukraine. National minorities also established their own religious communities: most numerous were the Roman Catholic churches of the Polish minority. Based mostly in the Right Bank and Galicia, they numbered close to 700. Muslims – that is, the Crimean Tatars – had 176 places of worship, primarily in Crimea and southern Ukraine. In Transcarpathia, the Hungarian Reform Church had 91 churches. Finally Jews, who benefited greatly from foreign support, established 79 synagogues.¹⁶

In the face of widespread deprivation and poverty, the establishment of such a number and wide variety of parishes and religious communities was truly remarkable. Indeed, of all former Soviet republics, Ukraine was the scene of the most intense religious activity. Whether the religious pluralism that surfaced is a sign of weakness or strength in the society is debatable, but it clearly indicated that a demoralized and exhausted population was in great need of spiritual regeneration.

In the 20th century, many post-imperial states emerged; almost all encountered great difficulties in establishing themselves. Because Soviet Communism was a system that left an especially deep imprint on society, the post-Soviet transitions were particularly difficult. Moreover, the suddenness of the Soviet Union’s collapse left its inhabitants totally unprepared for major changes. The fact that it occurred without violence allowed the former Soviet elite to remain in place: this, in turn, meant that the task of introducing the new order fell to the pillars of the old regime – not an optimal situation. Ukraine’s historical legacy – provincial isolation, unconsolidated social and national identity, deep regional divisions, and no tradition of statehood – complicated matters all the more. The result was a prolonged, blundering, and unusually painful process of transition.

Despite a decade of difficulties, there were grounds for long-term optimism. Numerous skeptics notwithstanding, an independent Ukraine not only survived but was accepted in the community of nations. In its tortuous transition from Soviet communism, it has passed the point of no return. In early 2000 there were signs of stabilization in its economy and political system. Much of the country’s rich resources, human and material, were still in place, but perhaps most promising was the new generation coming to the fore. Possessing the freedom, confidence, and opportunities that its elders had lacked, it presents Ukraine’s great hope for a better future.