PERSPECTIVES: Pereiaslav - a second chance to apologize (12/28/03)

PERSPECTIVES

by Andrew Fedynsky

Pereiaslav - a second chance to apologize

In 1988 Congress apologized to Japanese Americans for the way their country abused them in World War II. In 1991, at the dedication of the Babyn Yar monument in Kyiv, President Leonid Kravchuk apologized to Ukraine's Jews for past wrongs. Likewise, in 1997, Prime Minister Tony Blair apologized to the Irish for Britain's role in the Great Potato Famine of 1848.

Despite these and other examples of national contrition, Russia's ambassador to Ukraine, Viktor Chernomyrdin, made it clear that the Russian Federation would not apologize for the Famine-Genocide of 1932-1933. There's nothing to apologize for, Mr. Chernomyrdin said. Anyway, Stalin was Georgian - let the Georgians apologize, he said.

Unwilling to confront the enormity of the Famine, the Russian ambassador, no doubt, was counting on the subject changing from the 70th anniversary of the Famine in 2003 to the 350th anniversary of the Pereiaslav Treaty in 2004. Unlike the Holodomor, Pereiaslav is a commemoration that Russia has been eager to embrace. Not so Ukrainians.

In a nutshell, this is what happened. Four centuries ago, Ukrainians who earlier presided over the vast empire of Rus', had succumbed to total Polish domination. In one of history's mysterious turns, a charismatic leader, Bohdan Khmelnytsky, came out of nowhere in 1648 to rally a nation of serfs and renegade Kozaks to overthrow their oppressors. Khmelnytsky's rebellion started as an act of vengeance for a personal wrong, but soon it escalated into a national revolution culminating in a Ukrainian state. Characterizing himself as "a small and insignificant man who by the will of God has become the independent ruler of Rus,' " Khmelnytsky set a goal to "free the entire people of Rus.' " Five years later, in 1654, Khmelnytsky, buffeted by diplomatic intrigue and war, signed the Pereiaslav Treaty.

The actual wording of the agreement was lost centuries ago. Only inaccurate copies and translations survive. As a result, all the interpretations of its intent have been tainted by politics. Russian historians and politicians invariably characterized Pereiaslav as Ukraine's voluntary union with Russia. The Soviets, who celebrated the agreement as the culmination of an age-old desire of Ukrainians and Russians to be united into a single state, staged elaborate ceremonies for its 300th anniversary in 1954, capped with the dedication of a huge arch in the center of Kyiv.

Unlike Russians, most Ukrainian historians reject the claim that Ukraine voluntarily surrendered its sovereignty. Mykhailo Hrushevsky cites clauses guaranteeing Ukrainian rights and liberties, including an army, a foreign policy and unencumbered election of leaders. Vyacheslav Lypynsky viewed Pereiaslav as no more than a temporary military alliance.

If the original terms of the treaty have become obscure, its historical consequences are clear. Ever since 1654 Ukraine has been closely linked with Russia - to Russia's overwhelming benefit and at great cost to Ukraine. Immediately after Pereiaslav, Russia began encroaching on Ukrainian territory, curtailing liberties and rights. Leaders like Ivan Vyhovsky, Ivan Mazepa and Pavlo Polubotok fought to dislodge the tsars' armies from Ukraine, but to no avail.

In the early 1710s, Tsar Peter blocked the election of Ukrainian hetmans who disagreed with him. In 1726, he appointed a "Little Russian Board" consisting of Russian officers to rule Ukraine. Fifty years later, Catherine II destroyed the final Kozak stronghold, the Sich, and dispatched its elderly leader, Dmytro Kalnyshevky, to a tiny cell on a White Sea island, north of the Arctic Circle. A century later, Alexander II took the logic of imperialism a huge step further and banned the Ukrainian language itself.

There were even worse horrors in the Soviet era. After a brief Renaissance in the 1920s, Joseph Stalin declared total war on Ukraine, executing the cultural elite and condemning the peasantry to wholesale starvation. Those who survived endured half a century of aggressive Russification and serfdom disguised as collectivized agriculture.

If Russia's President Vladimir Putin missed the opportunity in 2003 to apologize for the Famine, he'll have the opportunity to apologize for Pereiaslav in 2004. That would cover a lot of sins. Although no one knows what was really signed back in 1654, surely it didn't include labor camps, a ban on the Ukrainian language, destruction of churches, the murder of poets, scholars and blind musicians, pollution of the land, waters and skies, and a politically motivated Famine that killed 7 million of Khmelnytsky's descendants. I'll bet the document spoke of friendship and respect, along with a sober listing of political protections and mutual responsibilities. That's not what followed, of course. Whether the capital was St. Petersburg or Moscow, the national symbol a double-headed eagle or the hammer and sickle, Russia's policy toward Ukraine has been destructive, at times genocidal.

Genocide, understandably, is a difficult legacy for a national leader to address. One leader, German Chancellor Willy Brandt, found just the right language of apology. In 1970, at the Ghetto Uprising Monument in Warsaw, he fell to his knees in a gesture of shame and expiation. Only a leader confident in his country's underlying strength and greatness could apologize like that. Widely admired and respected, Willy Brandt went on to win the Nobel Peace Prize.

It would be nice if the former KGB officer turned Russian president were to make a similar gesture toward the Ukrainian people. Mr. Putin could light a candle at the grave of Vasyl Stus, a poet who died in a KGB labor camp. He might want to cast a wreath on the waters of his hometown, St. Petersburg, where the bones of Kozak slaves are intermingled with the very foundations of the city they built. Or like Brandt, he could fall to his knees. Anyplace in Ukraine would be appropriate. There, every square mile is haunted by the ghost of someone who died from political violence that can be traced to the treaty signed at Pereiaslav.

Mr. Putin isn't likely to make any gestures of contrition either for the Famine or Pereiaslav, and it doesn't really matter. In 1991, by a margin of 9-1, the Ukrainian people voted to sever their relationship with Russia. By doing so they rendered their verdict on Pereiaslav, on the Holodomor and all the empty words of friendship and brotherhood that were parroted in the past. More importantly, they signaled their eagerness to move on.

Andrew Fedynsky's e-mail address is: [email protected].

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