“Until February 24, 2022, Ukraine was perceived as a dark country of “Great Russia” or even as one of the “legitimate backyards of Russia.” Much has changed since then when Ukraine and the Ukrainian army shattered all stereotypes about “Great Russia” and its invincible ‘second army in the world.’ And yes, military victories unfortunately continue to play a decisive role in narrative wars. Without these unexpected victories, the victories of the Ukrainian army in the battle for Kyiv and all subsequent ones, we would have remained unnoticed until now. Even at this very moment,” says Oksana Zabuzhko, Ukrainian novelist, poet, and essayist.
The shift in discourse and narration about Ukraine
It’s a privilege and a great opportunity for me to share a part of the personal experience of a writer who has been in a narrative war for 15 months. And in fact, she was in a narrative war long before the term itself appeared.
I plan to focus on the question that is already in the air: the change in discourse that accompanies this war and the change in the narration about Ukraine, the change in the Ukrainian narrative, or the way Ukraine is heard.
“Over the past few months, Ukraine, an unknown nation to the West, has found itself at the center of global attention. Most people, I suppose, would agree that they know nothing or very little about it. There is no need to blame oneself for such ignorance. There are significant reasons behind it. The oppressors of Ukraine ensured that it remained unknown, even denying its very existence. It is hard to imagine a greater injustice than the humiliation of a nation that, by ancient right, belongs to the European family of nations. But now, uncontrolled events have brought Ukraine onto the international stage,” these words belong to British journalist Lancelot Lawton, who in the 1930s, during the smog of totalitarianism over Europe, tried to open the eyes of the British public to the importance of the Ukrainian question in the future and the inevitable battles in Eastern Europe, as he wisely foresaw.
Ukraine’s visibility and perception in Western media
Lawton even delivered a special speech on this topic in the House of Commons in 1939, and this quote comes precisely from that speech. Despite this, Lawton’s words went unheard. The West let his “Ukrainian lecture” pass by their ears and erased Ukraine from their field of view for many decades. Even the emergence of the country on the political map in 1991 did not contribute to greater recognition. The Ukrainian narrative, the Ukrainian “story,” simply had no place in the European narrative until the Russian narrative underwent revision.
Indeed, Ukraine did exist in Western media, but only on the periphery. Until February 24, 2022, it was perceived as a dark country of “Great Russia” or even as one of the “legitimate backyards of Russia.”
This expression was uttered during a discussion that took place on January 22 of last year, initiated by a British media outlet, albeit in a semi-joking manner. I kindly omit the name of this media outlet simply because it is not relevant — nomina sunt odiosa. I was invited to join the engaging discussion they had planned with two British intellectuals on how to change the Constitution of Ukraine to better appease Putin, to pacify Putin. And the editor of this esteemed media outlet, who sent me the invitation to join the discussion, clearly had no realization of how arrogantly imperialistic it might sound to me. Of course, I declined. But I remembered this term, oh, just listen to this — “Russia’s legitimate backyard”.
This term was used in the 1930s in another part of Europe regarding other countries and territories. However, the fact that this term is still being used proves that as a civilization, we truly have serious problems with the lessons of 20th-century history.
The need to challenge misconceptions and stereotypes
Of course, much has changed since then, when Ukraine and the Ukrainian army shattered all stereotypes about “Great Russia,” its invincible “second army in the world,” and the “little Ukraine,” the “legitimate backyard of Russia.” And yes, unfortunately, military victories continue to play a decisive role in narrative wars. If it weren’t for these unexpected victories, the victories of the Ukrainian army in the battle for Kyiv and all subsequent ones, we would have remained unheard and unnoticed. Even now.
I would like to draw your attention to a column published last month by Neil Abrams from the University of Berkeley, titled “Dear Illustrious Professors of International Relations: STOP. TALKING. ABOUT. UKRAINE.” It is an absolutely marvelous piece of political journalism and a fine example of appropriate style applied in the relevant circumstances. It addresses those prominent Western, mostly American, experts in international relations who propose a peaceful settlement in the spirit of territory-for-peace as the ideal peaceful option for ending the war, without having any experience with Ukraine, without taking into account anything that the Ukrainians themselves may have to say on the matter. He provides a very clear, witty, and biting, I would say, review of about half a dozen such publications by renowned names like Mearsheimer, Lieven, and others. He addresses them in a style of, if you’re itching, if you truly feel the need to write an article about the Russian-Ukrainian war, then please, close your laptop, go outside, take a walk, pet a dog, volunteer at a food market — anything that you can do that would be more useful. So, overcome yourselves, for heaven’s sake.
See also: A source of non-knowledge: the history of Ukraine in European school textbooks
The unanswered question, particularly Neil Abrams’ unanswered question, lies in where all these prominent professors — there are more of them than he listed in his column get the audacity to claim that they know better than Ukrainians what the ideal solution would be in these circumstances. In essence, the only answer that can be given to this question is that, for them, Ukraine still does not have its own voice. Ukraine is still perceived as using Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak’s term — the subaltern that cannot speak.
After 15 months of war, after 15 months of a victorious war that, from the Ukrainian side, affirmed the success of Ukraine’s 30 years of independence in nation-building, army-building, and the development of civil society, Ukrainians still remain in their eyes in the position of a silent subaltern who cannot speak for themselves, and about whom they “know better.”
Why is that?
And here we have reached this point. I express an opinion that, in my view, is truly crucial in the narrative war and unfortunately remains significantly underestimated by both the media and politicians, as well as decision-makers and, sadly, even intellectuals. A country does not become known because it deserves publication in the press. The only way for a country to truly be considered as a subject of its own history is to be known culturally.
From Ukraine as a “legitimate backyard” to an object of international attention
It cannot be said that Ukraine was not worthy of attention from the world media before. In fact, the full-scale invasion by Russia in February 2023 is already the third surge of media interest in this century. I’m not referring to the 90s, not even to 1991, let alone 1990, when the first Maidan happened in Ukraine, which was completely overlooked by the international media and remained largely unknown outside of Ukraine. However, in this century, Ukraine has already been among the top news stories in all global media outlets for the third time.
The first instance was, of course, the Orange Revolution of 2004. It was a turning point when the West suddenly and quite unexpectedly realized, to quote President Kuchma’s book title, that Ukraine is not Russia. It became evident that we had a civil society capable of fighting for democracy. Yes, we fought for fair elections, and we won. It was a remarkable story. Ukraine became the darling of all global media for about half a year. This Orange Ukrainian Woodstock became a top news story on both sides of the Atlantic.
And what comes next? The discourse shifts. The topic of Maidan gradually turns into, I would say, a brawl among local politicians. And of course, they are all corrupt. The audience loses interest and stops paying attention. Meanwhile, there is another significant shift in focus. Experts come along with the idea: “Look, if Ukrainians were able to do this, then Russians will eventually succeed too. Hey, there’s a Maidan around the corner in Russia.” In reality, there are no obvious threats of Russia sliding into dictatorship. In Kyiv, there was Maidan, and it emerged victorious.
It turned out that by Ukrainian victory, Ukraine became a cover for this growing Russian fascist dictatorship. Because we are “brotherly nations,” we are “almost the same,” because we are still, you know, some kind of “younger brother,” and there is really “no difference”. Okay, there is a difference in political culture, but it only proves that this part of the former Soviet Union. By the way, this term is still being used as well — “former Soviet Republic”. Throughout these 15 months, throughout this, so to speak, longest journey (the title of Oksana Zabuzhko’s book), I have been in countries where the term “former Soviet Republic” is still used. It wasn’t until I reached Germany that I finally had enough and said, “Excuse me, do you always say “Germany, former Third Reich?” It’s almost the same — it’s part of your political history.”
Yes, the period of the Soviet Republic is part of the political history of Ukraine. But there were other episodes in its history. No matter what President Putin tells you. And these episodes shaped political culture of Ukraine no less than 70 years of the Soviet Republic.
In this form, as a former Soviet republic, Ukraine was perceived as something more politically developed. The shift of interest went in a northern direction — to Moscow. Until 2004, all correspondents covering events in the former Soviet Union were based in Moscow. The Orange Revolution became the first opportunity for them to come to Kyiv and report firsthand — and they discovered that we also have electricity and water, and yes, Kyiv is actually a large European-looking city with good restaurants, cafes, many historical landmarks, and so on.
Nevertheless, there was still no shift of interest towards Ukrainian history. The only Ukrainian writer who emerged on the international stage after the Orange Revolution was Marina Lewycka, a British author who published (don’t laugh) “A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian.” This book was the only English-language publication about Ukraine available for an interested EU citizen to purchase at a bookstore to learn something about the country that had the Orange Revolution.
The situation slowly began to change by 2014 when the second act of this great drama unfolded. And for the second time in this century, Ukraine became visible. Please note: I’m not saying “heard” — I’m saying “visible.”
The role of literature and arts in conveying Ukrainian identity
So, by 2014, Ukraine could already boast, I would say, a decent lineup of contemporary writers represented on the international stage, which any independent country could be proud of: Kurkov, Zhadan, Zabuzhko (excuse me), Andrukhovych in Central and Eastern Europe. But enough is enough. Foreign journalists already knew whom to call if they needed a comment on something related to Ukraine. These writers may not have been the bestselling authors in European book markets, but at least certain voices emerged.
See also: Just take it and make peace: how Ukrainians are being forced to adopt ‘pacifism’ and ‘objectivity’
By the way, as an insider, I must say that this is a very questionable position. Because the contexts, cultural contexts of your work, are still invisible to the foreign audience. And not just once, they have been misinterpreted. I remember the blow to the face when I read a highly complimentary review by an American critic of my novel “The Museum of Abandoned Secrets,” which was published in English. The review was very enthusiastic, and then came the blow: “It’s particularly impressive because it, as it turned out for me, emerged out of nowhere.” Yes, that’s right. Ukraine got its voices in literature, in music, but we emerged “out of nowhere.” We were not perceived as representatives of a thousand-year cultural tradition; Ukrainian cultural mothers or ancestors remained unknown.
Why “out of nowhere”? Because in the mind of the American critic, it’s taken for granted: if he, after a quick Google search, can’t find any Ukrainian novels or translated classics of Ukrainian modernism in English, then it’s considered not because they haven’t been translated, but because they don’t exist. That’s how it is perceived. A country without history, a country without culture, a country without traditions, a country without a past, without a narrative, a country without a voice. It may have aspirations for the future, it may have a young and vibrant civil society. But it is still seen as subaltern, still in the process of learning to speak for itself, and therefore not to be taken seriously. Mr. Putin’s voice will always carry more resonance, and if he steps onto the international stage and delivers his historical works about Ukraine’s past, it is perceived as if he is obligated to do so. And his version of history is known.
All Slavic studies departments were essentially Russian studies departments until recently, until last year. Only now is the situation changing. Or decolonizing, as I was taught to say at the University of Oxford. They claim that it is the trendiest word in Slavic studies departments worldwide — “decolonization,” the decolonization of Soviet studies. All these Slavic, or rather Russian, departments were “selling” future politicians the same history that Putin is now selling to the world — generation after generation.
So, every time, even after 2014, it was the same story. Even in February 2022. In the early days of the invasion, I watched a very good conversation between Anne Applebaum and Timothy Snyder, respected Western scholars who have genuine experience working with Ukraine, and Yuval Harari, who, in my humble opinion, is more of a media figure. The discussion was titled “War in Ukraine and the Future of the World.” And the discourse was exactly the same as I remember it from 2004 and 2014 — finally, the world will discover Ukraine, there is a civil society in Ukraine, Ukraine is showing resistance to Russian aggression. And then Harari expresses the same idea — that since Ukrainians are related nations to Russians, it may mean that Putin’s war will be stopped by protests in Russia. Oh my God, remember February 25… This is a person who is considered a respected historian. Yes, it’s happening again!
So what changes now, what changes after a full-scale invasion? What work is being done to change the narratives, and why should we work for all of this?
Yes, finally, for the first time, there is a really serious reconsideration of Russian-Ukrainian relations in a historical context.
The book we mentioned, “The Longest Journey,” was actually commissioned by my Italian publisher. It’s the first book I wrote upon the request of a publisher throughout my literary career. And the request was, “Please, explain to us what we have missed in the cultural and historical context of this war. In 120,000 characters.” I said, “I’m sorry, but I have to start from the 17th century.”
Yes, we have to start from the 17th century. For the first time, Ukrainian authors, not living but deceased, began to be translated into the major European languages. By the way, if you find yourself in London, don’t miss the performance of “Cassandra” by Lesiya Ukrainka at the Omnibus Theater. Personally, I take pride in this. It took me 10 years to convince European theater directors to stage “Cassandra” — the most relevant drama of our time. This play is imbued with a sense of anticipation of a world war. It used to be like, “Oh, well, okay…” Only now, thanks to the victories of the Ukrainian Armed Forces, Lesia Ukrainka has finally made it to the London stage.
So, this is a way to be heard. This is a way to be understood. Culture works on a personal level. If you identify yourself with the characters of a certain film or a book, if that music is part of your personal experience, then you can truly understand that country. Not as a problematic subaltern, not from the news that tells you what bad (or good — it doesn’t matter) things are happening. Because this is a dialogue. It’s a real dialogue. And it’s a genuine exchange of ideas. It’s democracy. It’s the world we all want to live in.
Originally posted by Volodymyr Semkiv on Zbruc.eu. Translated and edited by the UaPosition – Ukrainian news and analytics website
See also: Role of theatrical art during wartime
