De-Stalinization

The efforts of the new leadership to expand its support among the non-Russians, particularly the Ukrainians, were a part of a much broader plan of reforms. Stalin’s approach to modernization – a combination of terror, ideology, and forced industrialization – was an effective but artificial method of pushing Soviet society forward.

At the 20th Party Congress held in 1956, Khrushchev delivered one of the most dramatic speeches in Soviet history. To the surprise and consternation of party stalwarts, he launched a lengthy, detailed, and blistering attack on Stalin and his crimes. This “secret speech” signaled the beginning of de-Stalinization. It was followed by a marked change in the atmosphere in the Soviet Union. Ideological orthodoxy was relaxed, leading to a “thaw” in cultural life. The policy of isolation was deemphasized as foreign travel to, and especially tourism within, the USSR was encouraged (but carefully monitored). Among the non-Russian peoples the blatant Russification was toned down. And preparations for introducing major changes in the economy began. This is not to say that the totalitarian features of the regime were dismantled; they remained very much in place. However, the all-encompassing fear and the paralysis of creativity that characterized the Stalin period eased considerably. Changes in Ukraine

Initially, Ukrainians reacted to these changes with caution, a trait they had learned to cultivate during the Stalin years. But when it was clear that the attack on the Stalin “personality cult” was genuine and widespread, they joined in with a flood of their own complaints and demands.

The decline in the quality of Ukrainian scholarship was another issue that emerged. Historians – as opposed to the numerous party hacks who called themselves historians – protested that Moscow’s tight ideological control over their field had led to “an impoverishment of history.” This privation was characterized by provincialism, abject observance of party guidelines, and an exaggeration of the links and similarities with Russia, while downplaying “Ukrainian historical specificity.” Literary specialists lodged similar complaints about developments in their own field.

Apparently the Kremlin was listening. In 1957 Ukrainian historians received permission to establish their own journal, the Ukrainskyi Istorychnyi Zhurnal. Two years later, the first Soviet Ukrainian encyclopedia began to appear, partially in response to a similar project launched earlier by Ukrainian emigres in the West. These were followed by impressive, multivolume publications, such as a dictionary of the Ukrainian language, a history of Ukrainian literature, a survey of Ukrainian art, and a detailed survey of Ukrainian towns and villages, which even the Russians did not have.

In its quest to upgrade Ukrainian scholarship and thereby raise the prestige of Ukrainian culture, the intelligentsia not only concentrated on the traditional humanities but also demanded facilities in the republic for the development of modern areas of knowledge such as nuclear research and cybernetics.

Since Khrushchev acknowledged that many of Stalin’s victims were unjustly persecuted, the pressure for their rehabilitation mounted. The first to be considered for a posthumous return to good standing were purged Communists. In Ukraine demands rose for the rehabilitation of such national communists as Skrypnyk, Khvylovy, and the members of the KPZU. Soon such key cultural figures as the playwright Mykola Kulish, the theater director Les Kurbas, the world-famous filmmaker Oleksander Dovzhenko, and the outstanding 19th-century intellectual Mykhailo Drahomanov – all characterized by their successful efforts to enrich Ukrainian culture and raise it beyond provincialism – were proposed for rehabilitation. Because the reinstatement of these individuals touched on such politically sensitive issues as Ukrainian cultural independence and Ukraine’s “own road to communism,” the party’s response was cautious and ambiguous. But the fact that the Ukrainian intelligentsia continued to press for rehabilitation of such people indicated that the ideas of the repressed still exerted a strong appeal.

For the millions of Ukrainians incarcerated in the Siberian forced labor camps, de-Stalinization brought an unexpected reprieve: many of them were amnestied and allowed to return to their homes. This partial dismantling of the huge camp system was hastened by a series of prisoner revolts, such as those in Vorkuta and Norilsk (1953) and Karaganda (1954), in which many former members of the OUN and UPA played a leading role.

But perhaps the most telling indication of Khrushchev’s determination to adhere to certain basic principles of Soviet nationality policy – even while simultaneously making concessions of secondary importance – was the educational reform of 1958. An exceedingly controversial part of this vast restructuring of Soviet education dealt with the study of native languages. Up to 1958, students in the USSR were required to study their native language as well as Russian. Khrushchev’s seemingly liberal reform proposed that parents be given the right to choose their children’s language of instruction. In effect, this meant that one could be educated in Ukraine without learning Ukrainian. Given the variety of formal and informal pressures to learn Russian, it was to be expected that many parents would choose to have their children study in Russian and not to burden them with a second, albeit native, language. Despite a storm of protest and indignation in which even Ukrainian party officials joined, the regime pushed through this blow to the study of non-Russian languages, indicating that even in times of liberalization it was ready to modify but not abandon completely its policy of Russification.

The impact of de-Stalinization, however, reached far beyond the politico-cultural currents and countercurrents that involved the Kremlin politicians and Kievan intellectuals. The general loosening of ideological controls revealed a new mood emerging among the educated, urban youth.

Party publications described another university meeting in Kiev as consisting of many “destructive student types,” “demagogues,” and “loudmouths.” Young people bemoaned the monotony of Soviet life, the outdated morality, the old-fashioned dress codes, and the ideology-laden education. To the great consternation of their elders, they developed a liking for Western jazz and “pop” music. Some, the so-called stiliagi (stylish ones), even flaunted their predilection for outlandish (by Soviet standards) clothes and “antisocial behavior.” A materialist, self-centered “me” generation, already much in evidence in the West – and very different from the previous generation, which had produced such fervent communists and nationalists – was beginning to emerge in Ukraine and throughout the USSR.