Religion and Politics in Ukraine: The Orthodox and Greek Catholic Churches As Elements of Ukraine's Political System 1443866199, 9781443866194

Table of contents :
TABLE OF CONTENTS
FOREWORD
INTRODUCTION
PART I
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CONCLUSIONS:PART I
PART II
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CONCLUSIONS:PART II
SUMMARY
BIBILIOGRAPHY IN LATIN ALPHABET
BIBLIOGRAPHY IN CYRILLIC ALPHABET
INDEX

Citation preview

Religion and Politics in Ukraine

Religion and Politics in Ukraine: The Orthodox and Greek Catholic Churches as Elements of Ukraine’s Political System

By

Michaá Wawrzonek

Religion and Politics in Ukraine: The Orthodox and Greek Catholic Churches as Elements of Ukraine’s Political System, by Michaá Wawrzonek This book first published 2014 Cambridge Scholars Publishing 12 Back Chapman Street, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2XX, UK British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Copyright © 2014 by Michaá Wawrzonek All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. ISBN (10): 1-4438-6619-9, ISBN (13): 978-1-4438-6619-4

In Commemoration of the Heavenly Hundred

“Allow not the strong to oppress the people.” (Grand Prince Volodymyr Monomakh’s Instruction to His Children)

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Foreword .................................................................................................... ix Introduction ................................................................................................. 1 Part I: Factors Determining the Place of Religion in Contemporary Ukrainian Social and Political Life Chapter One ................................................................................................. 8 Religion as One of the Subsystems of Modern Society in Ukraine Chapter Two .............................................................................................. 27 The Political System in Ukraine Chapter Three ............................................................................................ 57 Factors Determining Inarticulate Knowledge Conclusions: Part I .................................................................................. 108 Part II: The Orthodox and Ukrainian Greek Catholic Churches in Contemporary Ukrainian Social and Political Reality Chapter Four ............................................................................................ 114 Relations between the Orthodox Church and State Authorities: Experiences from the Soviet Period Chapter Five ............................................................................................ 133 Religious Revival in Ukraine and the Process of its Institutionalization (1989-1992) Chapter Six .............................................................................................. 165 Eastern Christian Communities in Ukraine under Post-Communist Realities Conclusions: Part II ................................................................................. 197

viii

Table of Contents

Summary ................................................................................................. 206 Bibliography in Latin Alphabet ............................................................... 210 Bibliography in Cyrillic Alphabet ........................................................... 218 Index ........................................................................................................ 230

FOREWORD

The work on the substantive contents of the book was completed in mid-2013. That is why the breaking events of the transformation which resulted in Victor Yanukovych’s removal from power from 2013 to 2014 were not analyzed. However, it seems that the book’s constructed model of Ukraine’s political system can help us to positively understand the essence of these events. The Churches, both Orthodox and Catholic, also took an active part in this. Once again, we have become convinced that Ukraine’s political and religious spheres are quite strongly related to each other. This book also ought to help us identify these bonds as well as our attempts to clarify their origins. Naturally, it would be difficult to claim that we have exhausted this topic. I would like to thank all the people and institutions who, in their various ways, contributed to the creation of this publication. The National Science Centre funded the research and publication of this book (decision number: DEC-2011/01/B/HS5/00911). Prof. Wáodzimierz Mokry, my director, did everything he could to ensure that I had efficient working conditions, and his substantive suggestions proved to be extremely valuable. I also thank Prof. Wáodzimierz Marciniak for his helpful comments. It should also be noted that Artur Woáek inspired me to study the focal point between religion and politics in the post-Soviet region. I thank Justyna Jawor for her help in handling the administrative side of the project, Maciej Olchawa for his support during the preparation of the grant application to the National Science Centre, Iryna Sklokina, Gelinada Hrinczenko, Roman Sen’kus, Oksana Rybak and the Basillian Fathers of St. Basil the Great in Kiev for their help in organizing trips to Lviv, Kiev, Kharkiv and Rome. Special thanks to my dear Kasia, Marta, Piotrek and Joasia, and to my Parents, since it is also thanks to you and for you that I wrote this book!

INTRODUCTION

In previous studies, the problems of the functioning of religion in Ukraine and, more broadly - in the former Soviet Union - were considered from different research perspectives: sociological, historical, cultural studies, law and theology.1 Yet we lack a comprehensive and interdisciplinary analysis of the meaning and the roles which religion in general and Christianity in particular play in the social and political life of post-Soviet Ukraine. Research efforts that have been undertaken in this area – although very valuable – have not yielded conclusive answers to many 1

The most important works on the topics of interest to us include: Ⱦɟɪɠɚɜɧɨɰɟɪɤɨɜɧɿ ɜɿɞɧɨɫɢɧɢ: ɫɜɿɬɨɜɢɣ ɞɨɫɜɿɞ ɿ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɚ (ɿɫɬɨɪɢɤɨ-ɩɨɥɿɬɢɱɧɢɣ ɚɧɚɥɿɡ), ȱ. ȱ. Ɍɢɦɨɲɟɧɤɨ (ed.), Ʉɢʀɜ: ȼɢɞɚɜɧɢɰɬɜɨ ȯɜɪɨɩɟɣɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɍɧɿɜɟɪɫɢɬɟɬɭ, 2002; ɏɪɢɫɬɢɹɧɫɬɜɨ ɞɨɛɢ ɩɨɫɬɦɨɞɟɪɧɭ, Ⱥɧɚɬɨɥɿɣ Ʉɨɥɨɞɧɢɣ (ed.), Ʉɢʀɜ: ȱɎ ɇȺɇɍ, 2005; ȼɨɥɨɞɢɦɢɪ ɉɚɳɟɧɤɨ, ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜǯɹ ɜ ɧɨɜɿɬɧɿɣ ɿɫɬɨɪɿʀ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ, ɉɨɥɬɚɜɚ 2001; Ʉɚɬɟɪɢɧɚ ɉɚɧɶɨ, Ɇɨɬɢɜɢ ɬɚ ɧɚɫɥɿɞɤɢ ɜɬɪɭɱɚɧɧɹ ɜɥɚɞɢ ɭ ɦɿɠɤɨɧɮɟɫɿɣɧɟ ɩɪɨɬɢɫɬɨɹɧɧɹ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ : (ɭɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɿ ɰɟɪɤɜɢ ɬɚ ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɚ ɫɜɨɛɨɞɚ ɧɚ ɦɟɠɿ ɫɬɨɥɿɬɶ), Ʉɢʀɜ, 2004; ɋɬɟɩɚɧ Ȼɨɪɭɰɶɤɢɣ, Ⱦɟɪɠɚɜɚ, ɰɟɪɤɜɚ, ɥɸɞɢɧɚ: ɞɟɪɠɚɜɧɨ-ɰɟɪɤɨɜɧɿ ɬɚ ɦɿɠɤɨɧɮɟɫɿɣɧɿ ɜɿɞɧɨɫɢɧɢ ɭ ɞɡɟɪɤɚɥɿ ɫɭɱɚɫɧɨɬɿ, 1992-2002 ɪɪ, Ʌɶɜɿɜ: Ⱥɮɿɲɚ, 2002; ȼɿɤɬɨɪ ȯɥɟɧɫɶɤɢɣ, Ɋɟɥɿɝɿɹ ɩɿɫɥɹ ɤɨɦɭɧɿɡɦɭ: ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɨ-ɫɨɰɿɚɥɶɧɿ ɡɦɿɧɢ ɜ ɩɪɨɰɟɫɿ ɬɪɚɧɫɮɨɪɦɚɰɿʀ ɰɟɧɬɪɚɥɶɧɨ- ɿ ɫɯɿɞɧɨɽɜɪɨɩɟɣɫɶɤɢɯ ɫɭɫɩɿɥɶɫɬɜ : ɮɨɤɭɫ ɧɚ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ, Ʉɢʀɜ: ɇɉɍ ɿɦ. Ɇ. ɉ. Ⱦɪɚɝɨɦɚɧɨɜɚ, 2002; ɋɬɨɫɭɧɤɢ ɦɿɠ ɐɟɪɤɜɨɸ ɿ ɞɟɪɠɚɜɨɸ : ɩɪɨɬɢɫɬɨɹɧɧɹ, ‘ɫɬɿɧɚ ɪɨɡɦɟɠɭɜɚɧɧɹ’ ɱɢ ɫɩɿɜɩɪɚɰɹ? : Ɇɚɬɟɪɿɚɥɢ ɫɬɭɞɟɧɬɫɶɤɨʀ ɧɚɭɤɨɜɨɩɪɚɤɬɢɱɧɨʀ ɤɨɧɮɟɪɟɧɰɿʀ, Ɇ. Ɇɚɪɢɧɨɜɢɱ (ed.), Ʌɶɜɿɜ: ɅȻȺ (ȱɧɫɬɢɬɭɬ ɪɟɥɿɝɿʀ ɬɚ ɫɭɫɩɿɥɶɫɬɜɚ), 1998; ȼɿɪɚ ɩɿɫɥɹ ɚɬɟɿɡɦɭ: ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɟ ɠɢɬɬɹ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ ɜ ɩɟɪɿɨɞ ɞɟɦɨɤɪɚɬɢɱɧɢɯ ɩɟɪɟɬɜɨɪɟɧɶ ɿ ɞɟɪɠɚɜɧɨʀ ɧɟɡɚɥɟɠɧɨɫɬɢ, Ɇɿɤɥɨɲ Ɍɨɦɤɚ, Ɉɥɟɝ Ɍɭɪɿɣ (ed.), Ʌɶɜɿɜ: ȼɢɞ-ɜɨ ɍɄɍ 2004; Ⱥɧɞɪɿɣ ɉɚɲɭɤ, ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɚ ɰɟɪɤɜɚ ɿ ɧɚɡɚɥɟɠɧɿɫɬɶ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ, Ʌɶɜɿɜ: ȼɢɞɚɜɧɢɱɢɣ ɰɟɧɬɪ Ʌɇɍ ɿɦɟɧɿ ȱɜɚɧɚ Ɏɪɚɧɤɚ, 2003; Myroslav Marynovych, An Ecumenist Analyzes the History and Prospects of Religion in Ukraine, Lviv: Ukrainian Catholic University Press 2004; Serhii Plokhy, Frank Sysyn, Religion and Nation in Modern Ukraine, EdmontonToronto: CIUS Press, 2003; Church – State Relations in Central and Eastern Europe, Irena Borowik (ed.), Kraków: Nomos, 1999; Irena Borowik, Odbudowywanie pamiĊci. Przemiany religijne w ĝrodkowo-Wschodniej Europie po upadku komunizmu, Kraków: Nomos, 2000; Religie i KoĞcioáy w spoáeczeĔstwie postkomunistycznym, Irena Borowik, Andrzej Szyjewski (ed.), Kraków: Nomos, 1993.

2

Introduction

questions. Sometimes these answers, or the very approach to the topic were subject to a significant degree of the researcher’s subjectivity. In addition, we need to be aware that following Western concepts and methodological assumptions about the function that religion plays in society can limit the effectiveness of studies. We must note that the research tools used, meaning the phenomena that were the subject of analysis, and the ways to conceptualize them were adapted to Western conditions under which the model of the relationship between religion (church) and society (state) was shaped and evolved.2 Attempts to directly and mechanically apply these to Eastern Christian, post-Soviet reality in many cases cannot produce satisfactory results, and sometimes can even ensure that very dubious conclusions are reached. This in turn seriously affects the ability to assess the place and function of the Orthodox and the Greek Catholic Churches in the political system of Ukraine. An important factor that determines the possibility of the influence of religion and related institutions on social life is developed in this case in the model of church-state relations. In Ukraine, this model is constantly evolving. This is a result of the fact that the main actors are subject to rapid changes. In the case of Ukrainian society, we should first note that in the last 20 years, a number of essential elements that constitute or affected her operation have been subject to far-reaching changes. This concerns such issues as the ways of legitimizing authority, the regimes in power, the development of the modern elite, the structuring of society, changes in Ukraine’s national identity and political culture and changes in the external environment. All these have a direct or indirect impact on the way the Ukrainian political system works and the conditions under which religion and religious organizations function in the social and public spheres. The “other side” has also undergone equally significant changes – meaning the Orthodox and Greek Catholic Churches. With regard to the Orthodox Church, we should first note that the process of institutionalization still has not been completed. It runs a very lively, sometimes even dramatic, course. Issues concerning the final shape of the Orthodox Church’s structures, internal organization and orientation of culture and civilization in Ukraine still remain open. The same is true of the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church. It is experiencing a time of dynamic recovery after the “catacomb” period. She is fighting to get out of the 2

See for example: Patrick Michel, Polityka i religia. Wielka przemiana, Kraków: Nomos, 2000; Peter Ludwig Berger, The Sacred Canopy. Elements of a Sociological Theory of Religion, New York: The Anchor Books, 1969;

Religion and Politics in Ukraine

3

“Galician ghetto,” to break away from the status of a regional church and fulfill the aspiration to become an All-Ukrainian community. It is also worth noting that this Church has her own specific history, and carries a burden of experience in relations with state authorities. In relation to the undertaken subject, we should also raise the question of the status of religion as such in the modern world. One has to wonder what in this respect is contained in the specificity of the former Soviet Union’s sphere. What role can religion meet today in this region? How, and to what extent are the relationships between the religious and social spheres, between the church and state in Ukraine determined by the period of Soviet atheism? What are the consequences of its involvement in the recent Soviet past and current post-communist present? The Ukrainian state in her institutional form is a very young structure. Therefore, due to this, the unique Ukrainian experiences in the field of church-state relations are very insignificant. However, the sense of individuality and self-identity in Ukraine has centuries-old roots. It can be theorized that one of the characteristics of the political culture, which for centuries has distinguished Ukrainian lands not only from other Eastern Slavic areas but also the entire European continent, was the spirit of religious tolerance that formed within the multi-ethnic and multi-faith cultural borderland. In the past, it was in the Ukrainian lands that the Kiev Orthodox Church had to develop in her own way a new model of relations with the state. In Eastern Christianity, the Byzantine formula of “symphony” was created and enforced, so it was closer to a symbiosis.3 In modern times, the Moscow Orthodox Church has been fully subordinated to the state, and has truly become a part of it.4 However, the specificity of the Kiev Orthodox Church is based on the fact that it had to function independently at least in relation to the secular power, and often in opposition to it.5 3

More on this topic: F. Dvornik, Byzantium, Muscovite Autocracy and the Church, in: Re-discovering Eastern Christendom, edited by A. Armstrong, E. Fry, London: Darton, Longman & Todd, 1963, F. Rouleaux, Rome et Byzance aujourd’hui [in:] « Géopolitique », No. 35, 1991; Marie-Hélène Congourdeau, L’empereur et le patriarche dans l’empire byzantine, in: « Istina », No. 1, 2005; Peter Arnott, The Byzantines and Their Word, London: Macmillan, 1973. 4 Ⱥ. ɇ. Ʉɚɲɟɜɚɪɨɜ, ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɚɹ Ɋɨɫɫɢɣɫɤɚɹ ɐɟɪɤɨɜ ɢ ɋɨɜɽɬɫɤɨɽ ɝɨɫɭɞɚɪɫɬɜɨ (1917-1922), Ɇɨɫɤɜɚ: ɂɡɞ-ɜɨ Ʉɪɭɬɢɰɤɨɝɨ ɩɨɞɜɨɪɶɹ, 2005, pp. 6685; Hyacinthe Destivelle, Le Concile de Moscou (1917-1918). La création des institutions conciliares de l’Eglise orthodoxe russe, Paris: Cerf, 2006. 5 More on this topic, i.e.: A. Naumow, Domus divisa. Studia nad literaturą ruską I Rzeczypospolitej, Kraków: Collegium Columbinum, 2002, pp. 63-77, F. Sysyn, The Formation of Modern Ukrainian Religious Culture: The Sixteenth and

4

Introduction

One of the causes of the current divisions in the Ukrainian Orthodox Church is an attempt to revitalize and restore the specific Kiev Orthodox traditions. Potentially, this can be a source of genuine autonomy in the religious sphere of social and political life, including the independence and empowerment of the Orthodox Church in relation to the state. The lack of this autonomy is constantly being felt, and no doubt this is one of the consequences of the Soviet period. In addition, encoded within the inheritance of the traditions of the Orthodox Church of Kiev is the attitude of openness towards the Western European cultural circle and the ability to synthesize these elements with the native Ukrainian, Eastern Christian foundations. Thanks to this heritage, the inheritance could be an important catalyst for the process of social pluralism, and the democratization (poliarchization) of the local political system in Ukraine. According to Peter Berger we should single out “three moments, or steps” in social world-construction. These are “externalization, objectivation, and internalization”6. Externalization is “the ongoing outpouring of human beings into the world, both in the physical and the mental activity of men”; objectivation is “the attainment by the products of this activity (again both physical and mental) of a reality that confronts its original producers as a facticity external to and other than themselves”; and internalization is “the reappropriation by men of this same reality, transforming it once again from structures of the objective world into structures of the subjective consciousness”. According to Berger, to maintain “an empirically adequate view of society” all these elements must be “understood together”7. Social order is based on “institutions, roles, and identities”. They are “objectively real phenomena” and at the same they are “nothing but human productions”8. In this context we have to underline the crucial significance of legitimization. Legitimacy is “socially objectified knowledge, which serves to clarify and justify the social order.”9 As Berger pointed out, “all institutions possess the character of objectivity and their legitimations, whatever content these may have must continuously undergird this objectivity. The religious legitimization however, ground

Seventeenth Centuries, in: Religion and Nation in Modern Ukraine, edited by S. Plokhy and F. Sysyn, Edmonton-Toronto: CIUS Press, 2003, pp. 1-23. 6 P.L. Berger, The Sacred Canopy…, p. 4. 7 P.L. Berger, The Sacred Canopy…, p. 4. 8 P.L. Berger, The Sacred Canopy…, p. 13. 9 P.L. Berger, The Sacred Canopy…, p. 29.

Religion and Politics in Ukraine

5

the socially defined reality of the institutions in the ultimate reality of the universe, in reality as such”10. As we can easily notice, in Ukraine we are dealing with relatively new state and social institutions. The social and political reality in Ukraine as well as throughout the entire post-Soviet space is quite fluid. Among other things, this is because they are still in the processes of the institutionalization and legitimization of the new order after the collapse of the Soviet Union. As it turns out, the Orthodox and Greek-Catholic Churches in Ukraine are, or have the potential to be, active participants.

10

P.L. Berger, The Sacred Canopy…, p. 36.

PART I: FACTORS DETERMINING THE PLACE OF RELIGION IN CONTEMPORARY UKRAINIAN SOCIAL AND POLITICAL LIFE

CHAPTER ONE RELIGION AS ONE OF THE SUBSYSTEMS OF MODERN SOCIETY IN UKRAINE

While investigating the perspectives of the influence of religion on social and political life in contemporary Ukraine, some initial assumptions concerning the notion of society need to be made. Society will be treated first of all - as “a system of social communication in a very broad sense of the word”.1 The limits of society are where communication ceases, i.e. where the opportunities for communication become rare and restricted.2 In addition, the suggestion of perceiving society as a set of interconnected subsystems seems very inspiring. According to our understanding, the religious sphere comprises one such subsystem. When speaking of the religious sphere, we understand that it is a sphere of social communication whose center is a religious community. The Orthodox Church and the Greek Catholic Church play a key role in the case of Ukraine. On the one hand, these are institutions functioning in the religious sphere. On the other hand, we must stress that they strive to be treated, as José Casanova describes, as a symbolical, sacramental representation of supernatural realities in an empirical world3. Such tension between the natural and the supernatural realities in conjunction with the symbolic sphere on the essential meaning of the definition of the cultural and civilizational identity of Ukraine comprises the specifics of the religious sphere as a social subsystem and the character of its ties with other subsystems – including the political. According to a quite well-established viewpoint, it is possible to use two basic paradigms which can determine the place of a given subsystem in the hierarchy. The first, traditional one makes this place dependent on the social position, the stratum to which a particular activity has been 1 Peter F. Beyer, Religion and Globalization, London: Sage Publications, 1994, p. 33. 2 P. Beyer, Religion and…, p. 33. 3 José Casanova, Public Religions in the Modern World, Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1994, p. 14.

Religion as One of the Subsystems of Modern Society in Ukraine

9

attributed. This paradigm gave rise to the model of a stratified society, whose most characteristic feature is a clear domination of “the upper, ruling strata”.4 These strata not only control the most important subsystems, but they also define the actual limits of society using their communication skills.5 According to Peter Beyer, such a model is characteristic of pre-modern societies. The second paradigm which determines the place of a given subsystem in society assumes that the structural axis no longer belongs to centrally positioned status groups. In the new system, the whole becomes subject to other, functionally rationalized objectives which determine the methods of action of various institutional spheres.6 In this case, the division into social strata is replaced with a range of subsystems which can be distinguished by means of the functional paradigm. These subsystems are: legal, political, economic, scientific, religious etc. The distinguishing criterion for them is a specific method of communication which they use and which has a systemic character.7 In other words, their distinctness is based on the method of communication which functions according to the grammar specifics and characteristics of a given subsystem. Additionally, in this paradigm, each subsystem, on the one hand, possesses real autonomy, and on the other, is dependent on the fact that other systems are at work. That is to say, these subsystems are autonomous, but conditioned.8 From our point of view, it is especially significant that the key functional subsystems include politics and religion. For Beyer, society constructed in such a way is called modern. Therefore, his proposed paradigm of thinking about society also implies a way of understanding modernity. According to this view, the hierarchical model of society is anachronistic and belongs to pre-modernity. It is supposed to gradually disappear and be replaced by the functional model which is a natural consequence of the process of modernization. It must be noted, however, that if we are going to analyze social realities in Ukraine by closely following the ideas put forward by Peter Beyer, we will reach the conclusion that it is both pre-modern and modern at the same time. Undoubtedly, it is traditionally stratified, if only on account of the clan-oligarchic connections. Increasingly, regions began to

4

P. Beyer, Religion and…, p. 35. P. Beyer, Religion and…, p. 35. 6 P. Beyer, Religion and…, p. 35. 7 P. Beyer, Religion and…, p. 67. 8 P. Beyer, Religion and…, p. 79. 5

10

Chapter One

resemble feudal fiefdoms where the local lords were left to run society and the economy as long as they remained loyal to the center (i.e., Kiev9). Oligarchic clans operate at the meeting point of a few subsystems – most of all, politics, law and economy. Most importantly, they considerably limit the inner autonomy of the above subsystems. It also turns out that the religious sphere is vulnerable to their influence. The analysis of conflicts and divisions within the Ukrainian Orthodox Church allows one to realize how fragile the autonomy of the religious sphere is in relation to other subsystems. It especially concerns politics and business. This issue is discussed in detail in later parts of this book. At the same time, Ukrainian society begins to take on features which – following Beyer’s train of thought – could be considered symptoms of modernity. That is, there begin to crystallize the bases for structurization according to the functional paradigm, such as civic society or the free circulation of information. Of course, this process is quite slow and fraught with great difficulties. In this context, the case of religion looks especially interesting. It seems that, despite the above reservations, religion in Ukraine is the subsystem which – in comparison to others – is based on the rules which, according to Beyer, could be called modern. Its autonomy with regard to other subsystems – at least potentially – is quite clearly defined, and its inner construction is based on the principle of pluralism. This is especially evident in the example of Eastern Christianity and the Orthodox Church, which are at present its representatives in Ukraine. For our purposes, it is enough to state that in the social structure of Ukraine, there are symptoms of what Beyer calls anachronism as well as modernity. In other words, the Ukrainian social reality is stratified because of various status groups, while at the same time, instrumental functional subsystems crystallize. Presently, however, it is hard to conclude whether the autonomy of the latter will turn out to be powerful enough to neutralize the unusually strong position of the status groups (this especially concerns oligarchic structures). Even if this is going to happen, it is difficult to say when it will take place. Nonetheless, many signals suggest that the Ukrainian social reality will retain its dual nature for the foreseeable future. This is just one of the reasons why Beyer’s concept of modernity should be considered not entirely adequate in relation to contemporary social changes in Ukraine. 9

Hans van Zon, Political culture and Neo-Patrimonialism under Leonid Kuchma in: “Problems of Post-Communism”, Vol. 52, No. 5, September/October 2005, p. 15.

Religion as One of the Subsystems of Modern Society in Ukraine

11

The imperfections of the concept are especially noticeable with regard to religion and the way it functions in Ukrainian society. If we assume that social changes in Ukraine are the effect of modernization, which results from certain global regularities, it should be expected that the social, public role of religion will become marginalized. This is because, from the perspective proposed by Peter Beyer, religion “is a mode of relating to the world that thrives in traditional, especially segmented societies, and not in modern, instrumentally-dominated society”10. In accord with this view, if this way of relating to the world does not change, the bonds that enable religion to communicate with other social subsystems will be weakened and broken. As a result, religion would cease to exert influence on these subsystems, including politics. However, an analysis of the situation in Ukraine leads to the conclusion that the bonds between religion and politics and, on a broader scale, between religion and the public sphere in Ukraine are far from becoming extinct. What is more, they have even strengthened and intensified in certain areas. Interestingly, this also concerns such issues as support for the process of democratization and building civic society or the defense of pluralism in social and political life. This was observable, for instance, in the events of the so-called “Orange Revolution” of 2004; another issue which will be discussed in more detail later on in this book. According to Beyer’s concept, moral norms and rules form the link between the religious subsystem and social problems.11 For this mediation to be effective, there must be social structures which consider morality a privileged form of social regulation.12 He states that these structures are characteristic of pre-modern societies – that is, stratified and hierarchical – built on the basis of community formations or based on group solidarity.13 However, in the period of modernity, the image of the devil becomes increasingly blurred, and religion – with its traditional understanding of morality in terms of good and evil – has become anachronistic. Beyer explains that the structural changes and globalization of modern societies make it harder today “to personify evil” and identify it with its obvious social counterpart.14 And that is why, according to the Canadian researcher, businessmen in pursuit of profit have no regard for moral norms, politicians do everything to achieve power and scientists trivialize moral dilemmas which could hamper new discoveries. 10

P. Beyer, Religion and…, p. 67. P. Beyer, Religion and…, p. 81. 12 P. Beyer, Religion and…, p. 81. 13 P. Beyer, Religion and…, p. 81. 14 P. Beyer, Religion and…, p. 86. 11

12

Chapter One

At this point, it is worth focusing on two things. First, Beyer’s examples are not so much proof for the lack of any norms whatsoever, but for the omnipotence of one fundamental norm: “the end justifies the means.” Second, these phenomena are nothing new. At least in the field of politics, they had been thoroughly discussed long before the beginning of the epoch which Beyer calls modernity. Additionally, the question remains as to whether such subsystems as economy or politics are able to function in a situation with an absolute lack of any common moral norms, at least within the limits of a given subsystem. For it is possible to imagine a situation in which such a normative vacuum becomes dysfunctional, and there begins to be an increased demand for the subsystem which will not only supply these norms but also help in their internalization. And then religion may again turn out to be necessary and useful. This is especially because, as Patrick Michel notes, so far “politics has turned out to be incapable of supplying the language which would be able to debate the issue of sense so clearly and explicitly that it would have an influence on reality.”15 We should note in passing that the French researcher is also skeptical about the possibility that religion can exert an effective influence on politics in the contemporary world. However, it seems that until now – at least in the case of Ukraine – politics and “the issue of sense” are quite strongly bound with each other. This, in effect, ensures that the problem of mutual relations between religion and politics maintains its relevance. Undoubtedly, from the very beginning of Ukraine’s independence, the spheres of politics and broadly defined public life have functioned according to rules which have little in common with what Peter Beyer calls traditional morality. But they have equally little in common with the regulations which are in force in societies generally considered modern. It is quite usual to connect a perceptible tendency to abandon the truths of Faith with the consequences of the process of individualization. Patrick Michel even concludes that “never before was identity so individualized as today.”16 In his view, which seems to correspond quite neatly with Beyer’s views, modernity, which manifests itself in democracy, “means the end of the epoch of purposefulness.”17 After this, the epoch of relativity based on authentic pluralism began. Indeed, in Ukraine, the traditional system of values and moral norms has fallen into severe decay. It should be noted, however, that in this case it was not the result of functional problems of religion in modern society and especially not the result of the ongoing 15

Patrick Michel, Religia i polityka. Wielka przemiana, Kraków: Nomos, 2000, p. 18. 16 P. Michel, Religia i polityka…, p. 96. 17 P. Michel, Religia i polityka…, p. 100.

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13

pluralization of Ukrainian society. Quite the opposite: it is a legacy of the Soviet epoch. Its essence was the total omnipotence of the state, which not so much stimulated certain transformations inside society but replaced it, “sucked in” its structure, assimilating it fully.18 Autonomy in relation to the state – both on the individual and group level – was practically extinguished. Any of its manifestations in the strongly centralized Soviet system were treated as subversive, anti-systemic tendencies. The Soviet model of society was based on the greatest possible unification and connection of all the spheres of social reality, which in Europe became the basis for autonomous functional subsystems. “The Soviet man” formed in such conditions displayed a total outer containment. In his model form, he was to represent a kind of completely unreflective “ideal executor” who needed “outside impulses even to fulfill the simplest life functions.”19 Eric Voegelin states that political society can function as “an acting unit in history” on the condition that it possesses a system of “beliefs” that unify it.20 Losing those leads to the disintegration of the social community. The circumstance which accelerates and deepens destructive processes is the loss of links with tradition and paralysis, which are the result of the extermination or persecution of intellectual and political elites.21 It ought to be emphasized that in the case of Ukrainian identity the sense of one’s own distinctness, this system of unifying faiths, evolved from traditional and organic relations with the European civilization. This also concerns the way in which social reality functioned and the position that religion and the Orthodox Church had within it. From the tradition of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth emerged the rule of this sphere’s autonomy as – to use Beyer’s terminology – a separate subsystem. This tradition, however, was already effaced in the pre-Revolutionary period. But what proves that it has survived against all odds are attempts to restore the original Kyiv-Mohylan tradition and the related struggle to establish a separate Autocephalous Orthodox structure in Ukraine in the 1920’s. These attempts were discontinued by the Soviet authorities. The expansion of Bolshevism on Ukrainian lands was the most brutal and ruthless assault to destroy the bonds which constituted Ukrainian community. As a result, its existence as “a separate whole in history” was called in question. 18 The Political Analysis of Postcommunism, ed. V. Polokhalo, Kyiv: Political Thought, 1995, [online] http://www.litopys.org.ua/polpost/ppe.htm. 19 ɋɟɪɝɿɣ Ƚɪɚɛɨɜɫɶɤɢɣ, „ɋɨɜɽɬɫɶɤɚ ɥɸɞɢɧɚ” ɹɤ ɤɭɥɶɬɭɪɧɨ-ɚɧɬɪɨɩɨɥɨɝɿɱɧɢɣ ɬɢɩ, http://www.universum.lviv.ua/archive/book/2001/grab_2.html. 20 Eric Voegelin, The New Science of Politics. An Introduction, Chicago-London: The University of Chicago Press, 1987, p. 31. 21 E. Voegelin, The New Science…, p. 31.

14

Chapter One

The dissolution of the USSR and the emergence of the independent state of Ukraine stopped these destructive processes, but the consequences could not automatically be reversed. Contact with tradition, which could have cemented Ukrainian society, was to a large extent broken. That is why the process of its inner reintegration was paralyzed at the very beginning. The divisions inside the Ukrainian Orthodox Church illustrate this issue very clearly. The significance of these divisions is not a result of some essential discrepancies in terms of dogmatics; the truths of Faith. The disputes and divisions are a consequence of controversies which emerge at the meeting point of religion and other social subsystems, especially politics. They refer to such issues as: the relationship to Ukrainian independence, the place of religion and the Orthodox Church in the Ukrainian political system, the form of Ukrainian identity and geopolitical and civilizational orientations. It could be said that the discussion which would enable Ukrainians to negotiate their own ways of solving these dilemmas has only just begun. In addition, this is extremely difficult and its results are not easy to predict because of the damage done to the Ukrainian national psyche during the Soviet period. The process which results in people forming themselves into a working society is what Voegelin calls “the articulation of a society”.22 The Orthodox Church and, more broadly, Eastern Christianity is one of those “faiths” which potentially could unite Ukrainian society, and it is also one of those factors that could positively stimulate the course of this society’s articulation. As though through a lens, the divisions inside the Orthodox Church accumulate the crucial problems which complicate the development of this process. Their analysis should provide considerable aid in describing the transformation of the contemporary social reality in Ukraine, including its political elements. Peter Beyer notices that in traditional, hierarchical societies which consist of various communities, religion was an important factor in determining the affiliation of an individual to a particular community. In this structure, “the dominant status groups, in an effort to bolster and express their control over a greater social diversity, usually attempted to style their religion as definitive for the society as a whole, often in the form of an overarching cosmology that made the norms and values of the upper strata (...) the presumptive standard for all behaviour”23. In its assumptions, Beyer’s diagnosis refers to societies which he called premodern. However, it is worth noticing that the above description perfectly 22 23

E. Voegelin, The New Science…, p. 37. P. Beyer, Religion and…, p. 83.

Religion as One of the Subsystems of Modern Society in Ukraine

15

fits the Soviet model of society as well. Of course, we are talking about the model realized in practice and not the one written down in the form of empty declarations. Its key element was the class which possessed the features of the dominating status group – i.e., the party’s nomenklatura. The status of elitist religion was given to Marxism-Leninism. Obviously, we are aware that such a definition may seem controversial. Already in 1953, Hannah Arendt critically analyzed attempts to use the term “political religion” in relation to communism. She believes that, especially at the beginning, it was a kind of “rhetorical figure” employed by some liberal supporters of communism who simply did not understand what the Russian great new experiment was all about as well as by disappointed communists disgusted at Stalin’s deification of Lenin’s mortal remains and his dogmatization of Bolshevism.24 However, in the course of time, attempts to interpret the phenomenon of communism in religious terms were made also on scientific grounds. Arendt distinguishes here two trends: the “sociological” and “historical.” The supporters of the former drew attention to the fact that in the totalitarian system, communism had (or was supposed to have) the same function as “common” religions in a free society. The author of The Origins of Totalitarianism accuses the representatives of the sociologizing movement of discussing such phenomena as ideology and dealing with religion only by analyzing its functions in society. In her view, this leads to far-fetched simplifications which ignored the most important element, i.e., the essence of these phenomena.25 The above-mentioned historical trend was free from this error. This approach treated communism as the most radical version of the immanentist heresy.26 The supporters of this approach attempted to demonstrate the religious nature of the ideology. Eric Voegelin was probably the most distinguished representative of this approach. After an in-depth analysis of Marxist ideology, he reached the conclusion that Marx realized that “he is a god creating the world”,27 and his ideas in their original form were imbued with pathos and eschatological heroism inspired by the vision of paradise on earth.28

24

Hannah Arendt, Religion and Politics in: H. Arendt, Essays in understanding 1930-1954, Jerome Kohn (ed.), New York: Schocken Books, 1994, p. 372. 25 H. Arendt, Religion and Politics…, p. 374. 26 H. Arendt, Religion and Politics…, p. 372. 27 E. Voegelin, From Enlightenment to Revolution, Durham: Duke University Press, 1982, p. 298. 28 E. Voegelin, From Enlightenment…, p. 242.

16

Chapter One

As befitted the religious system, Marxism acquired its meaning also through creating a vision of salvation. But because, as Voegelin claims, Marx’s soul “was demonically closed against transcendental reality”, he looked for the sources of salvation in immanence.29 The mystery of human existence was to be solved with the help of practical knowledge. This knowledge was responsible for the technological inventions of humanity, starting with the art of striking fire and finishing with the invention of the steam engine. From the Marxist perspective, these inventions constituted successive stages in discovering the mystery of human existence. Voegelin explicitly claims that in Marxism “Christ the Redeemer is replaced by the steam engine as the promise of the realm to come”.30 Hannah Arendt is strongly against identifying communism with religion. She claims that communism pretends to be scientific, not religious, because it uses scientific arguments and responds to scientific questions rather than religious ones.31 However, over twenty years later, Voegelin drew attention to the thoroughly religious methods used to search for the answers to these questions. He notes that while building his vision of the world, the author of Capital used speculative methods which were employed by mystics to translate the experience of God into an earthly language, and he calls Marxist ideology “probably the best world fetish ever constructed by a man who wanted to be God”.32 He compares the idea of communism to the concept of “the universal church of the proletariat” and points to the fact that communists were distinguished from other workers’ parties by the universal character of their actions.33 According to Voegelin, communism as an idea is imbued with eschatological and Gnostic elements. They resulted from the tension between the death of the spirit which Marx experienced and the hope for its renewal in the new post-revolutionary world,34 whereas communism in practice – as it turned out to be the case during the revolution in Russia – was stripped of its eschatological values. This was because the vision of freedom contained in the original idea meant little or nothing for the members of the Marxist movement. In Voegelin’s view, the great eschatological project of freedom and “the change of hearts” achieved by means of revolution actually came down to slogans for “the shorter

29

E. Voegelin, From Enlightenment…, p. 298. E. Voegelin, From Enlightenment…, p. 267. 31 H. Arendt, Religion and Politics…, p. 384. 32 E. Voegelin, From Enlightenment…, p. 299. 33 E. Voegelin, From Enlightenment…, p. 294. 34 E. Voegelin, From Enlightenment…, p. 246. 30

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17

workday and a higher standard of living”.35 When even such a drastically reduced version of the communist Eden did not appear, substitutes for the disintegrating vision of the revolutionary paradise were: the idea of the Soviet “fatherland”, return to Russian traditions and Soviet patriotism.36 Does this, however, mean that Soviet communism completely lost its religious character? This is not explicit. Very soon after the victory of the Bolshevik revolution, Polish researcher Bogumiá Jasinowski37 pointed to a number of elements which were conducive to the “sacralization” of Marxism-Leninism in the Soviet environment. This concerned, among others, maximalism in approaching reality and setting objectives. In addition, Jasinowski highlighted the role of a peculiar type of “Soviet millenarism” which became “the equivalent of the rejected religion.”38 As usually happens with religious systems, Marxism, adapted by Lenin to Russian conditions, provided “a powerful faith in the logic of history.”39 A similar view on the religious nature of Marxism-Leninism is expressed by other experts of the Soviet reality – Nikolai Berdyaev and Alain Besancon.40 Among Polish studies devoted to reflections on the religious nature of communism, Rafaá Imos’s book Wiara czáowieka radzieckiego [The Faith of the Soviet Man]41 is worth mentioning. Following Leszek Koáakowski, Imos repeats the thesis that man in a natural way tries to intellectually face the feeling of the “accidentality and indifference of the world,” and thus searches for the meaning of his own existence.42 In his search, a tool and, partially also search results, are secular and religious myths. The latter consist of “unverifiable, unarguable universal facts whose value lies in the cosmic dimension which a priori negates any kind of accidentality.”43 According to Imos, secular mythologization “fulfils the criteria for an incubator (…) of religious mythologization, that is, it manifests the tendency to holism and radicalization in the face of the minimal amount of favorable circumstances.”44 As can be inferred, Imos 35

E. Voegelin, From Enlightenment…, p. 247. E. Voegelin, From Enlightenment…, p. 253. 37 For more information on this researcher see: Bogumiá Jasinowski, Wschodnie chrzeĞcijaĔstwo a Rosja, Kraków: OĞrodek MyĞli Politycznej, 2002, pp. IX – XXIV. 38 B. Jasinowski, Wschodnie…, p. XLVI. 39 B. Jasinowski, Wschodnie…, p. XLVI. 40 B. Jasinowski, Wschodnie…, p. XLI. 41 Rafaá Imos, Wiara czáowieka radzieckiego, Krakow: Nomos, 2007. 42 R. Imos, Wiara czáowieka…, p. 67. 43 R. Imos, Wiara czáowieka…, p. 68. 44 R. Imos, Wiara czáowieka…, p. 69. 36

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Chapter One

suggests that it is an objective process, independent from the intentions of the supporters of “secular mythology.” The mythology created in the secular space not only distances itself from the religious sphere, but can also be anti-religious, and in favorable circumstances becomes a religion itself – in functional, structural and ontological terms. Imos puts forward the thesis that this process could be observed in the example of the evolution of Marxism in Russia. “Marx’s thought, which developed in the atmosphere of secular mythologization, evolved through Leninist enhancement in the direction of a religious myth only to reach its peak in the Stalinist period.”45 The above thesis corresponds to ideas already formulated seventy years earlier by Bogumiá Jasinowski. He claims that Marxism had conditions conducive to its development thanks to the Orthodox Russian culture. Jasinowski believes that, in essence, Bolshevism was not the contradiction of this culture, but its consequence, a development, it resulted from its very nature. He accuses the Orthodox Church of anti-intellectualism. He underlines the enormous significance of monastic congregations in Western European civilization. They performed the role of “centers which propagated culture outside.”46 They maintained contact with the world and thanks to this were able to have an influence on it. The tradition of Eastern Christianity, however, formed a different kind of monk – an anchorite who negated the worldly reality, escaped from it and as a result was asocial.47 According to Jasinowski, the Byzantine tradition cultivated by the Orthodox Church paralyzed the development of the common legal awareness – instead of the idea of the state of law and the guarantee of the freedom of the individual which were created in Western European conditions, what took root in Russia was the principle of all-powerfulness of the state in the shape of “tsarist-theocratic authority.”48 Such an idea of the origins of Bolshevism has to raise justifiable controversy and – as Marek Kornat rightly states – Jasinowski’s book Wschodnie chrzeĞcijaĔstwo a Rosja [Eastern Christianity and Russia] “has to be read with caution.”49 Doubtlessly, however, it inspires an in-depth reflection on the essence of Bolshevism, mainly by emphasizing cultural and historical conditions which determine the uniqueness of incorporating Marxism in Russia.

45

R. Imos, Wiara czáowieka…, p. 69. B. Jasinowski, Wschodnie…, p. 47. 47 B. Jasinowski, Wschodnie…, pp. 47-49. 48 B. Jasinowski, Wschodnie…, p. 179. 49 B. Jasinowski, Wschodnie…, p. LII. 46

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While analyzing communism from the perspective of its religious nature, it has to be noted that one of the key elements of its Russian version was atheism, understood as a programmatic, coordinated and ruthless fight with religion. The fact that, as Eric Voegelin observes, the revolution in Russia had little in common with Marx’s initial eschatological project does not at all mean that eschatological issues became indifferent to the shape of Soviet reality. This is proven by the fact that practically, throughout the whole existence of the USSR, religious believers and their communities, including – most interestingly for us – those of the Orthodox and Greek Orthodox Churches, were persecuted and destroyed because of their social function and due to what they essentially were. Objecting to the identification of ideology and religion in functional terms, Hannah Arendt wrote in 1953 that function is not the same as essence; and that two completely different things – for example, “belief in the Law of History” and “belief in God” – cannot perform the same function.50 That is why it is worth examining the history of the Russian Orthodox Church in the USSR. Indeed, it was able to survive in the USSR as an institution because its hierarchs decided to adopt a new function: the factor which legitimized Soviet power – the power which openly and ruthlessly propagated atheism and faith in the Law of History, which publicly and with premeditation destroyed the Christian value system and faith in God itself.51 Arendt underlines: “even if under certain queer circumstances, it should occur that two different things play the same “functional role,” I would no more think them identical than I would think the heel of my shoe is a hammer when I use it to drive a nail into the wall”52. In principle, this statement is perfectly legitimate. The problem is that in the social reality, in essence it is difficult to find such an easy and uncomplicated element and processes whose essence would be as evident as the example which Arendt refers to. In relation to this, the metaphor used ought to be considered less adequate to compare such phenomenon as religion, Marxism or Leninism.

50

H. Arendt, Religion and politics…, p. 386. It is difficult to agree at this point with Arendt, who observes that “Communism, as an ideology, though it denies among many other things the existence of a transcendent God, is not the same as atheism. It never tries to answer religious questions specifically, but makes sure that its ideologically trained adherents will never raise them”. H. Arendt, Religion and politics…, p.371. 52 H. Arendt, Religion and politics…, p. 386. 51

20

Chapter One

However, while analyzing the reality of post-Soviet societies, it has to be taken into account that it stems from a system whose logic was built on many circumstances which may seem “strange” to an outsider. Due to this fact, what in terms of the essence may seem equally ridiculous or paradoxical – as the example with the hammer and heel – becomes understandable and logical from the functional perspective. The circumstances shaped under Soviet conditions still exert an influence on contemporaneity. They were “strange” enough to lead to, among other things, far-reaching discrepancy between the essence of religion and the Orthodox Church and the function which it performs. As a result, for instance, Christian eschatology managed to become an element of the neo-imperial, purely secular doctrine of “Russkiy Mir.” It is worth noticing that today it must fulfill a similar role to that which Marxism and Leninism, along with the theory of a world revolution, filled some time ago. So, in a certain way, despite what Arendt states, “belief in the Law of History” and “belief in God” can – independent of the differences as to the essence of both “faiths” – fulfill the same role. In this context, it is worth noting together with Larisa Andreieva that dechristianization, which was the communists’ objective, does not have to be identical with secularization.53 Abandoning Christianity (or any other religion) does not necessarily have to mean the end of eschatology as such. The need for it is inscribed in the human subconscious. Marxism responded to this need and created a new religion which “deified man.”54 The tragedy of the Russian Orthodox Church was not only that it constituted part of the social order destroyed by the Bolshevik revolution. The real tragedy was the fact that Bolshevism created the new order (or rather tried to create its beginnings) with its own religion. It was “the official denomination” of the Soviet state,55 which spread its “gospel” in a particularly ruthless manner. It could be said that communism was a peculiar antithesis of the Orthodox Church. No new “prophet” came after Stalin’s death. During the “thaw,” the pantheon of Soviet “saints” was partially demythologized. The party nomenklatura was formed which, instead of spreading and cultivating the 53

Ʌɚɪɢɫɚ Ⱥɧɞɪɟɟɜɚ, ɉɪɨɰɟɫɫ ɞɟɯɪɢɫɬɢɚɧɢɡɚɰɢɢ ɜ Ɋɨɫɫɢɢ ɢ ɜɨɡɧɢɤɧɨɜɟɧɢɟ ɤɜɚɡɢɪɟɥɢɝɢɨɡɧɨɫɬɢ ɜ XXI ɜɟɤe; http://www.krotov.info/lib_sec/01_a/and/reeva_la_2.htm, dechrystianizacja 54 Ʌ. Ⱥɧɞɪɟɟɜɚ, ɉɪɨɰɟɫɫ ɞɟɯɪɢɫɬɢɚɧɢɡɚɰɢɢ… 55 R. Imos proposed the following definition of communism: “Atheistic, based on Gnostic faith, characterized by dualism, universalistic in nature, complex religion of battle, which was the official denomination of the Soviet state” – R. Imos, Wiara czáowieka…, p. 84.

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ideas of the New Man and the New World, was busy with its “here and now.” The awaited paradise was not coming. Communist religion was slowly burning out. Actually, in the last years of the USSR, ritual was all that remained. Wáodzimierz Marciniak called this condition “the ossification of ideology.” He notices that “communist leaders – at least from the younger generation – were perfectly aware that all was rotten and no one could live like that any longer.”56 In this light, the figure of the last USSR leader, Mikhail Gorbachev, is absolutely exceptional. As Marciniak bluntly states, “the problem of every ossified ideology is that mainly cynics and idiots cling to it.”57 In contrast, Gorbachev was the last high-rank apparatchik who was an honest believer in the communist religion. As Marciniak writes, “he spoke communist language and at the same time did not give the impression that he is lying through his teeth or that he is an utter fool. (…) In any case, Gorbachev may have created an illusion that apart from dissidents, cynics and fools there are still real communists in this world.”58 As has already been stated, however, this architect of the perestroika was an exception. In common practice, Marxist-Leninist religion was reduced to symbolic gestures and ritual procedures which the public could not forgo, but which were empty as such. Until the very end, they were the indispensable attributes of Soviet reality, and constituted it in their own way. After the fall of the Soviet Union, the eschatological dimension of communism finally underwent deprecation. In this context, the ban on running the communist party in the USSR issued in August 1991 is of especially symbolic significance. In Ukraine, the communist party was “reborn” in 1993. Although it referred to Soviet symbolism and phraseology, at the same time it had to adjust to the new reality. In the original version of the CPU’s (the Communist Party of Ukraine) statute it was written that the CPU is the successor of its predecessor from Soviet times. However, the registration of the “new” CPU was not made before this article had been removed.59 Communism was reduced, at least in Ukraine, to the role of the tool used to fight for electors’ votes. It helped to exploit the dissatisfaction with the

56

Wáodzimierz Marciniak, Rozgrabione imperium. Upadek Związku Sowieckiego i powstanie Federacji Rosyjskiej, Kraków: Arcana, 2001, p. 110. 57 W. Marciniak, Rozgrabione imperium…, p. 110. 58 W. Marciniak, Rozgrabione imperium…, p. 110. 59 Ɇɢɤɨɥɚ Ɍɨɦɟɧɤɨ, ȼɨɥɨɞɢɦɢɪ Ɉɥɿɣɧɢɤ, ɉɚɪɬɿɣɧɚ ɟɥɿɬɚ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ 2000, Ʉɢʀɜ: Ʌɨɝɨɫ, 2000, p. 41.

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Chapter One

consequences of the transformation period’s pathology as well as take advantage of and cherish the resentment towards the Soviet past. In the meantime, new authorities needed a new ritual, especially in the new state of Ukraine.60 An “ideological void” appeared – not because communism collapsed and was missed, but because it systematically destroyed everything around. The power needed legitimation – not by creating a new religion, but by using its national character and visage. In the characterization of the traditional, hierarchized society presented by Peter Beyer, one can find a very notable reservation: the ruling group imposed their all-embracing religious ideology top-down, but this did not mean that the members of the subordinate or controlled lower classes were converted to it. The author of Religion and Globalization states, that “the overarching religious ideologies did not have to penetrate to the popular strata, only to claim relevance for these as well”61. In other words, we can say that the crux of the matter was obligatory normativity of the elitist religion. Only this religion could be officially propagated. The degree to which “the people” actually accepted it was in this context of secondary importance. What mattered was the monopoly. In order to gain this, it was necessary – especially at the beginning – to eliminate “competition”. In this case, this meant the Orthodox Church. Later, when it seemed that the monopoly of Marxist-Leninist ideology was established, the Soviet authorities ruthlessly strived to maintain it. After the Stalinist period’s repressions the Orthodox Church practically ceased to exist as an institution. Similar to the whole society, it was also absorbed by the Soviet state. It accepted the rules according to which this state functioned. It was unable to question the monopoly of the party and the “religion” which it imposed. However, thanks to becoming no longer threatening to the Soviet system, from a certain point – that is, from 1943 – it could operate inside a strictly controlled niche. As a rule, there was no chance of building even germs of an autonomous subsystem, because everything that could give people spiritual independence was eliminated. “Friendship, love, faith in God – all this had to be under strict control.”62 The Orthodox Church became one more element of the Soviet state; it was transformed into an object and means of control. The infrastructure of religious life was destroyed to such an extent that the influence of religion – as an autonomous subsystem – on social life was eliminated. 60

ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɚ ɞɟɪɠɚɜɧɿɫɬɶ ɭ ɏɏ ɫɬɨɥɿɬɬɿ (ȱɫɬɨɪɢɤɨ-ɩɨɥɿɬɨɥɨɝɿɱɧɢɣ ɚɧɚɥɿɡ), Ʉɢʀɜ 1996, [online] www.litopys.org.ua/ukrxx/r17.htm. 61 P. Beyer, Religion and…, pp. 83-84. 62 Józef Smaga, Narodziny i upadek imperium. ZSRR 1917-1991, Kraków: Znak, 1992, p. 126.

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Very characteristically, in the Ukrainian lands which were incorporated into the USSR after 1939, the parish network and standard of religious life, despite being drastically limited, were much more advanced than in the remaining parts of the USSR. This was a consequence of the fact that these areas had not been influenced by the period of the physical liquidation of the Orthodox Church, and religion in general, during the first stage of the establishment of the Marxist-Leninist ideological monopoly. This situation continued throughout the whole time period of the USSR. For various reasons, instead of leveling this disproportion, the authorities focused on upholding the obligatory normativity of Marxist-Leninist ideology. As it turned out, in spite of many efforts, the positive part of the Bolshevik program to rebuild society was not accomplished. Its basis was the idea of “the new man,” the above-mentioned “ideal executioner” – totally subject to “superior aims,” “perfectly amoral, ready for all kinds of meanness and intuitively guessing the wishes of his superior.”63 Although Józef Smaga claims that this program acquired “partial realization,” it is very significant that he illustrates his thesis with examples of the most prominent figures in the Soviet government. As a result, one could venture to claim that the model of “the new man” was in force first of all in the ruling class. After the fall of the USSR, its emigrants and inheritors created the “new” post-communist economic and political elite. Actually, it is in this fact rather than – as Peter Beyer seems to suggest – in “modern, global circumstances”64 that one should look for the reasons why Ukrainian businessmen prefer the pursuit of profits to moral considerations, and Ukrainian politicians lie, deceive and in many ways betray their own rules in order to achieve and maintain power. In relation to lower classes of Soviet society, the notion of “Homo sovieticus” popularized by Fr. Józef Tischner seems more appropriate for describing the transformations of identity. According to him, the Soviet man was most of all a being who was “one-dimensional” and “terrorized,” for whom there was no “vertical dimension of human existence.”65 Homo sovieticus “could not have a soul (...), was all matter, so he was a material, continually humanized through the work he did,” whereas all his “inner life ultimately amounted to the functioning of the consciousness determined by being.”66 The nature of Homo sovieticus was malleable and 63

J. Smaga, Narodziny…, p. 127. P. Beyer, Religion and…, p. 82. 65 Józef Tischner, Homo sovieticus. MiĊdzy Wawelem a Jasną Górą, „Tygodnik Powszechny,” 24.06.1990, qtd. after: Spór o PolskĊ. 1989-1999, P. ĝpiewak (ed.), Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Naukowe PWN, 2000, p. 112. 66 J. Tischner, Homo sovieticus… 64

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passive. There was no need for him to believe in the truthfulness and correctness of rules which shaped the Soviet social reality. It was enough for him to submit to them, in fact to accept their “obligatory normativity.” If we accept the criteria proposed by Beyer, we can conclude that Soviet society – including Ukrainian society – was constructed according to traditional, thoroughly archaic models. Its center was status groups based on nomenklatura. Consistent application of such an approach makes it difficult to treat post-Soviet societies as modern. And yet, revolution as “a leap into modernity” was one of the basic dogmas which gave legitimacy to the Soviet authorities and justified the necessity of horrifying sacrifices, including the elimination of such symbols of backwardness as the Orthodox Church. At the twilight of the USSR, it also became clear to the Soviet leaders that they did not manage to find a socialist path from backwardness to modernity which would turn out to be better than the one created by the West.67 It seems worthwhile to make a distinction at this point. Doubtlessly, the attempt made in the USSR to create a social model which would enable a faster and easier acquisition of prosperity and would turn out to be more effective technologically ended in failure. Does this automatically have to mean failure in the pursuit of modernity? The answer to the above question depends on the way we understand modernity and on the choice of the criterion with whose help we can decide what is modern and what is not. As has already been stated, attempts to define modernity with regard to social structure (functional or stratified) do not prove entirely correct, at least in the case of post-Soviet societies. Perhaps it results from the fact that this structural criterion is much too strongly based in West European reality, although it reflects a rather widespread conviction that what is Western is modern. As a result, modernity would mean the implementation of West European models and rules into social practice. However, such an approach narrows the perspective too much and seems to suggest the necessity to destroy cultural and civilizational differences in the name of modernity. In the search for a more universal and “pluralistic” method of understanding modernity, Shmuel N. Eisenstadt’s idea is worth considering. In his view, the key role in this context belongs to the understanding of the essence of civilization. That is why it is important to consider this issue for a moment. According to Eisenstadt, “the central analytical core of the concept of civilization” is a combination of “the 67

R. Szporluk, Dziedzictwo imperialne a sowiecki problem narodowoĞciowy in: R. Szporluk, Imperium, komunizm i narody, Kraków: Arcana, 2003, p. 177.

Religion as One of the Subsystems of Modern Society in Ukraine

25

ontological and cosmological visions (visions of transmundane and mundane reality) with the definition, construction and regulation of the major arenas of social life and interaction”68. In simpler terms, we can talk about civilization when in a given area specific ontological visions will determine the institutional shape of social life, define and legitimate the political order. Three categories of such civilizations can be distinguished: “axial,” “pre-axial” and “non-axial.” Axial civilizations play the key role in history. Their exceptionality results from their ability to articulate a new type of ontological vision – a matrix of social and political order whose heart was “new basic metaphysical conceptions of the chasm between the transcendental and mundane orders”69. In other words, the ideas about the institutional shape of the secular order remained in strict relation to specific conceptions of the transcendent sphere. This relation manifested itself in the conviction about the discrepancy between the transcendent and secular orders. This in turn generated subsequent transformations of axial civilizations. These transformations “gave rise to attempts to reconstruct the mundane world, from human personality to sociopolitical and economic order according to the appropriate ‘higher’ transcendental vision.”70 Axial civilizations are of key importance because through their emergence civilizations “crystallized as distinct entities and an explicit consciousness thereof developed”71. In addition, axial civilizations displayed a particularly strong tendency to expand – not only, as had happened so far, in economic, political and cultural spheres, but also in the ideological and religious ones.72 In Eisenstadt’s view, axial civilizations are dynamic constructs. Their characteristic feature is developing “an internal transformative capacity”73. In the course of time, these changes have differed in range and depth. Modernity is a result of one of the most dramatic transformations which occurred inside a specific axial civilization – in Western Europe. The essence of this revolutionary transformation lay in abandoning the fundamental belief of axial civilizations in the tension between the transcendent and secular orders. The consequence of the transformation was “a very strong emphasis on bringing together the City of God and the

68 Shmuel Eisenstadt, The civilizational dimension in sociological analysis in: “Thesis Eleven”, number 62, August 2000, p. 1. 69 S. Eisenstadt, The civilizational dimension..., p. 4. 70 S. Eisenstadt, The civilizational dimension..., p. 4. 71 S. Eisenstadt, The civilizational dimension..., p. 4. 72 S. Eisenstadt, The civilizational dimension..., p. 8. 73 S. Eisenstadt, The civilizational dimension..., p. 11.

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City of Man.”74 This is how the era of modernity began. In other words, transcendent visions were supposed to stop influencing the shape of the earthly order in the name of modernity. From Eisenstadt’s perspective, this was a fundamental change. This does not mean, however, that modernity was released from the vision of the ideal social or political order and from the attempts to realize them. The proof of modernity was the fact that these visions came from people and for people, i.e. were of earthly provenance. In descriptive terms, modernity was to bring the Kingdom of God to earth and free men from the feeling of existential discomfort which could result from the awareness of the tension between their “here and now” and the transcendent sphere. Eisenstadt claims that in “unifying God’s and earthly states,” the key role was played by the Reformation and the French Revolution. He describes the latter as “a fully secular transformation of the sectarian antinomian orientation with strong gnostic components.” It found its peak in Jacobinism, whose continuation was Leninism.75 Such an approach to understanding modernity seems to satisfactorily explain the reasons for the fact that the influence of religion on social and political life in Europe – including Ukraine – is not as obvious and direct as it was in the past. Similarly to Eisenstadt, Peter Beyer claims that modernity thoroughly transformed the nature of the former bonds between the religious subsystem and the social and political spheres. The breaking of the fundamental tension between the sacred and the profane took place both in the West as well as in the East of Europe. However, in each case, the mechanism of this process and its principles were different. With regard to the West, the essence of this process seems to have been quite well described by Patrick Michel. He underlines the significance of the growing individualization of identity. On the other hand, in Eastern Europe, especially in the USSR, abandoning the sacred took place under the totalitarian system which as a rule did not allow any individualization within society. Eisenstadt’s idea appears to be useful, because it does not impose one pattern of obtaining modernity. It also does not place in advance a limitation on the diversity of forms which modernity can assume in social life in various cultural circles and communities with distinct historical experiences.

74 75

S. Eisenstadt, The civilizational dimension..., p. 11. S. Eisenstadt, The civilizational dimension..., p. 12.

CHAPTER TWO THE POLITICAL SYSTEM IN UKRAINE

The discussion undertaken here also necessitates a particularization of our perception of the political system. This is because the idea of the political system may be understood in various ways.1 Supporters of different views agree that this refers to “the sphere of public authority and encompasses the whole of mechanisms functioning within its range,” or sometimes “within what is called the political life of a given society.”2 This definition is quite sufficient for us. Naturally, the description and place of the function of religion in Ukraine’s political system has to be preceded by a reflection on the topic of the very nature of this system and the directions of its evolution. Of particular interest to us seems to be the issue of its poliarchic structure. There is no need to enumerate at this point all the institutions of the model poliarchy. It has to be observed, however, that from the viewpoint of the transformation of the political system in Ukraine at the present stage, the following are of particular significance: frequent, fair and free elections carried out without enforcement and violence, freedom of speech, especially including the right to oppose parties or leaders holding the highest state offices and the right to freely access information sources.3 The elections held in Ukraine certainly leave a lot to be desired in terms of the above standards. From the viewpoint of the observers from the West, the electoral process in Ukraine inevitably gives rise to a number of doubts and objections.4 At the same time, it ought to be highlighted, 1

For a synthetic overview of the conceptualizations of this idea, see Andrzej Antoszewski, System polityczny jako kategoria analizy politologicznej in: Studia z teorii polityki, Vol. 1, A. W. JabáoĔski, L. Sobkowiak (eds.), Wrocáaw: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Wrocáawskiego, 1999, pp. 73-88. 2 A. Antoszewski, System polityczny jako kategoria..., p. 73. 3 Robert A. Dahl, Bruce Stinebrickner, Modern Political Analysis, New Jersey: Pearson, 2003, pp. 79-81. 4 It is no concidence that, presenting the main points of Polish foreign policy in 2012, the Polish Minister of Foreign Affairs declared readiness to support Ukraine if it “decidedly chooses the European destination.” He also appealed to Ukrainian

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however, that for the visitor from Russia, who is accustomed to Russian political culture – especially the one shaped when Vladimir Putin and Dmitry Medvedev held power – Ukrainian elections can be treated at least as “a foretaste of democracy.”5 Obviously, the progress of elections themselves is essential for the assessment of whether we are dealing with a democracy or not. However, of no less importance is the question of the functioning of the electoral process, that is, whether the electable officials enable various actors who co-create the system to have an influence on the decision process. This is because not only the electability of officials in frequent, fair and free elections but also the fact that they themselves make final political decisions are crucial for the evaluation of the democratic character of a given system.6 In Ukraine, however, the actual channels of power distribution depend primarily on clan-oligarchic connections. The results of elections are of secondary importance in this respect. They do not give sovereignty to officials who make “final political decisions.” In order to gain a better understanding of the way the Ukrainian political system functions, it is worth making a terminological distinction between the concepts of the “political system” and the “political regime.” Both terms are often used interchangeably as synonyms. This seems to be an unfortunate practice.7 For present purposes, we will assume that political regime means “a set of formal and informal principles and rules authorities for “creating political conditions, including the standards of treating political opposition and the quality of electoral and court processes, which would enable the Association Agreement with the EU to be signed and come into effect” – Informacja Ministra Spraw Zagranicznych o zaáoĪeniach polskiej polityki zagranicznej w 2012 r., http://www.msz.gov.pl/resource/bbcf833e-0136-46d08551-424cf7304535:JCR. 5 In this context, it is worth noting the comment by Paweá Kowal, the chief observer from the European Parliament during the elections for the Supreme Council of Ukraine in 2012. He stated that the opposition had “poor access to the media” and the electoral campaign itself was violent, especially in places where “private as well as administrative means” were employed. “In a way, this put the elections into question and determined the direction of the development of the electoral process itself” – noted P. Kowal. At the same time he also emphasized: “I think that – for a post-Soviet state – these elections were not bad” - Liczenie gáosów bez kamer, http://pawelkowal.pl/2012/11/30/liczenie-glosow-bez-kamer/. 6 R. A. Dahl, B. Stinebrickner, Modern Political…, p. 79. 7 See the criticism of using both terms interchangeably: Jan Holzer, Stanislav Balík, Postkomunistyczne reĪimy niedemokratyczne. Badania nad przemianami teorii politycznej w okresie po transformacji ustrojowej, Kraków-Nowy Sącz: OĞrodek MyĞli Politycznej, 2009, pp. 31-33.

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which determine activities of the authorities and their interactions with the social and economic spheres around which expectations and motivations of particular political actors are centered.”8 In such a view, regime defines the way in which “the power-privileged actor understands the execution of the state authority and its legitimation in the eyes of the political community.”9 In democratic conditions, the term system is superior to the term regime. This is because the functioning of the system is not limited only to activities and regularities connected with holding power in the country. The idea of the system implies the existence of a set of elements which interact.10 To use a generalization, among these elements we may enumerate political, economic, social and religious spheres. For this to be possible, they have to be autonomous with regard to each other. A few institutions can be distinguished which are characteristic of democracy and which have to be in operation so that a given system deserves to be called democratic (or a democratic poliarchy). All of them are based on the above-mentioned fundamental assumption that particular actors are “independent elements of the system.”11 In such a structure, the subject holding power fulfills “a given regime model, but it does not define the whole political construction” because “many actors retain their autonomy” within it.12 In non-democracies, however, “representatives of a given regime actually absorb the state and political community (…), by which they define and determine the whole system.”13 In this case, the term “regime” is superior to the term “system.” If the above-proposed terminology is applied to the description of the situation in Ukraine, we can reach the conclusion that the autonomy of numerous actors who create the political system was preserved here – in part due to the “Orange Revolution.” It ought to be added that it is an autonomy which the authorities cannot ignore. It is built on dissimilar local identities which co-create contemporary Ukraine. In any case, the Ukrainian political system retained its superior position over the regime. From this perspective, it is justifiable to put forward the hypothesis that real democratization may potentially take place within the system presently existing in Ukraine.

8

J. Holzer, S. Balík, Postkomunistyczne reĪimy…, p. 31. J. Holzer, S. Balík, Postkomunistyczne reĪimy…, p. 32. 10 R. A. Dahl, B. Stinebrickner, Modern Political…, p. 28. 11 J. Holzer, S. Balík, Postkomunistyczne reĪimy…, p. 32. 12 J. Holzer, S. Balík, Postkomunistyczne reĪimy…, p. 32. 13 J. Holzer, S. Balík, Postkomunistyczne reĪimy…, p. 33. 9

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In summary, by its nature, the political regime in Ukraine is inferior to the system, but in fact, the situation is actually far more complex, although in Ukraine the political system – as for post-Soviet conditions – possesses numerous poliarchic elements. In other words, the autonomy of the particular entities which create it is relatively great. However, at the same time, this does not transfer easily onto the functioning of the political regime. This is, among other reasons, because the process of its institutionalization is to a great extent occurring in an informal way14. Robert A. Dahl put forward a very useful idea about the political system with regard to the role of the church and religion in political life. First of all, it allows one to look at the problem comprehensively or at least from a wider perspective. In this conception, the significant issues related with the functioning of the political system include: legitimization, authority, ideology and political culture. Dahl writes that ideology explains and justifies not only leadership in the system but also the system itself. Such a ruling ideology points to moral, religious, material and other factors assumed in order to validate the system.15 In addition, he emphasizes that in order to convincingly explain the specific functioning of the political system, one must also focus on political culture. It is central to the way a given system works.16 Apparently, this American proponent of the idea of poliarchy understands the concept of political culture as views and convictions of people – especially of those who are politically active – about the way political systems should work.17 Dahl would certainly agree with the view that these views and convictions are based on the “values, rituals, symbols, heroes and patterns of social behavior”18 instilled in people’s consciousness. Dahl notes also that the leaders of the political system attempt to ensure legitimization for their activities, that is, they strive to gain acceptance for their decisions not only through the pressure “of violence, punishment or coercion” but also by “the belief that it is morally right and proper to do so”.19 This approach is perfectly complemented by Peter Berger’s proposition to consider legitimization as a socially objectified 14

On the issue of “informally institutionalized poliarchy” see J. Holzer, S. Balík, Postkomunistyczne reĪimy…, p. 51. 15 Cf. R. A. Dahl, B. Stinebrickner, Modern Political..., pp. 61-62. 16 Cf. R. A. Dahl, B. Stinebrickner, Modern Political..., p. 91. 17 Cf. R. A. Dahl, B. Stinebrickner, Modern Political…, p. 92. 18 A. W. JabáoĔski, Kultura polityczna i jej przemiany in: Studia z teorii polityki, A. W. JabáoĔski, L. Sobkowiak (eds.), Vol. 2, Wrocáaw: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Wrocáawskiego, 1998, p. 177. 19 R. A. Dahl, B. Stinebrickner, Modern Political…, p. 60.

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“knowledge” which serves to explain and justify the social order. Legitimization is an answer to all the questions about the raison d’être of institutional structures20. According to the hypothesis put forward by Edmund Wnuk-LipiĔski, the legitimization crisis of the system is connected with a crisis of motivation. It is a consequence of the discord between the opinions of the ruling elites and the motivations supplied by the socio-cultural system. In other words, it is a situation when there are discrepancies between “the motives which groups should follow so that the whole social system seems to function efficiently” and “the resources of sense encoded in the local cultural tradition.”21 From our point of view, it is worth completing Dahl’s construction with yet one very essential element: “tacit knowledge.” Within this concept, we will be able to understand all that in a given case “is taken for granted” and “on which one’s inferences are based”22 with reference to social reality. In other words, it is an amount of data which is commonly absorbed in a specific society and which can be defined as “a tacit grasp of the world.”23 It enables people to pass judgments on “how it is” and “how it should be.” The core of the concept of “tacit knowledge” is based on the assumption that the rules which determine the ways social phenomena – including the political system – function “are not the creation of a mind independent from the outside world,” but are “part of the social world.”24 The discrepancy between the constitutional principles and those present in social practice remains the constant element of the Ukrainian political system. The actual mechanisms according to which this system operates are contained in the rules outside the constitution, in many cases in an informal form. This also concerns the place and role of religion and institutions connected to it in the whole political system in Ukraine. That is why, in order to analyze them properly, one cannot limit oneself only to formalized rules which determine the way religion and religious

20

Peter Ludwig Berger, The Sacred Canopy. Elements of a Sociological Theory of Religion, New York: Anchor Books, 1969, p. 29. 21 Edmund Wnuk-LipiĔski, ĝwiat miĊdzyepoki. Globalizacja, demokracja, paĔstwo narodowe, Kraków: Znak, 2004, p. 231. 22 Artur Woáek, Demokracja nieformalna. Konstytucjonalizm i rzeczywiste reguáy polityki w Europie ĝrodkowej po 1989 roku, Warszawa: Instytut Studiów Politycznych PAN, 2004, p. 38. 23 A. Woáek, Demokracja…, p. 38. 24 A. Woáek, Demokracja…, p. 39.

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communities function in the social sphere of contemporary Ukraine, or which define the Ukrainian model of the state–Church relation.25 Of course, we should take those rules in consideration. Two basic principles may be explicitly and literally inferred from article 35 of the 1996 constitution: “Church and religious organizations” are separated from the state and school is separated from the Church.26 Besides this, in the preamble there is mentioned “responsibility before God, one’s own conscience, and the preceding, present and future generations”.27 It is worth comparing the above excerpt with a very similar fragment of the Constitution of the Republic of Poland from 1997, where one can read about responsibility “before God or before one’s own conscience.”28 In the latter case, God as an arbiter appears only as an alternative. When analyzed literally, the text of the Ukrainian constitution suggests that God is treated as no alternative; all people are responsible before Him, no matter if and in what they believe. In search of the possible reasons why these issues in the Ukrainian constitution were described in such a way, it is worth looking into other – “twin,” as it were – texts: the post-Soviet constitutions of the Russian Federation and of the Republic of Belarus. Neither of them contains a reference to God.29 The problems of the foundations of post-Soviet Russian and Belarusian statehood were limited to the earthly reality; there are no references to any kind of transcendence. Perhaps this is because the constitutions in Belarus and Russia in their original form were passed a few years earlier than in Ukraine, i.e., in 1993-1994. It is possible that at that time, popular view still held that the fall of the USSR was a result of democratization, and the states which emerged after the Soviet empire collapsed were the effect of this process. In 1996, however, when the Ukrainian constitution was passed, the “democratizing ideology” was strongly deprecated. It was becoming more and more evident that the sovereign state and the elites holding power 25 Lesia Kovalenko, Church and State in Ukraine, in: Law and Religion ɿn PostCommunist Europe, S. Ferrari, W. Cole Durham, Jr. (eds.), Leuven–Paris–Dudley: Peeters Publishers, 2003, pp. 355-382; Ɍɚɪɚɫ Ⱥɧɬɨɲɟɜɫɶɤɢɣ, Ʌɟɫɹ Ʉɨɜɚɥɟɧɤɨ, Ɇɨɧɿɬɨɪɢɧɝ ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɨʀ ɫɜɨɛɨɞɢ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ: Ɉɫɨɛɥɢɜɢɣ ɨɝɥɹɞ ɧɚ ɦɚɣɧɨɜɿ ɩɢɬɚɧɧɹ, Ʌɶɜɿɜ, 2005-2006. www.irs.in.ua/files/publications/2005_RISU_monitoring.rtf pp. 5-14. 26 http://zakon2.rada.gov.ua/laws/show/254%D0%BA/96-%D0%B2%D1%80. 27 http://zakon2.rada.gov.ua/laws/show/254%D0%BA/96-%D0%B2%D1%80. 28 http://www.sejm.gov.pl/prawo/konst/polski/kon1.htm. 29 The text of the Russian constitution: Konstytucja Rosji, Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Sejmowe, 2000, the text of the Belarusian constitution: http://www.president.gov.by/en/press10669.html.

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were not able to fulfill most of the hopes cherished by the great majority of Ukrainians who voted for independence in the referendum of 1991. It can be assumed that the post-Soviet nomenklatura was looking for new ways to legitimate its own authority. Perhaps the fragment about responsibility “before God” in the constitution may be considered material proof of the alliance between the aspiring-for-independence representatives of part of Ukrainian post-Soviet secular and Orthodox establishments. The emphatic way in which the issue of responsibility before God is formulated in the Ukrainian constitution is worth mentioning. At the same time, however, it should not be overestimated. First of all, it is a result of the peculiar role which constitutionalism plays in post-Soviet states. Constitutional declarations and norms – those contained in the preamble and those describing the pattern of power distribution between particular state authorities – are usually of a decorative character. The passing of the constitution itself, references to such values as democracy, the state of the law (art. 1), entries on the state’s attention to “extensive development and functioning of the Ukrainian language in all spheres of social life in the whole of Ukraine” (art. 10) or the entry on the Supreme Council being “responsible before God” (Preamble) are in fact of a ritual, not constitutive, character. While evaluating whether or not a given system is poliarchic, it is in a way natural to use models and standards characteristic of Western Europe as reference points. It turns out, however, that within the emerging system in Ukraine, there appeared a symbiosis of these models and standards with the principles of Soviet origin (for instance, the adaptation of the nomenklatura system to the new reality or the actual lack of autonomy of the judiciary power with regard to those who actually wield power) and ones shaped in the process of the transformation itself (e.g., the lack of a clear boundary between public and private interests, the rule of oligarchic clans, clientelism). These phenomena effectively hamper the so-called “consolidation of democracy.” Therefore, systems such as the one in Ukraine came to be called “hybrid.”30 It seems that this term is rather unfortunate because it contains a subconscious conviction that, in spite of all other factors, the process of social and political changes in Ukraine is genetically oriented towards democracy. However, as it is often emphasized, the process of democratization is not linear and the waverings characterized by the recidivism of forces and regularities of “the old order” are supposed to be 30

For example Tomasz Olejarz, Tomasz StĊpniewski, Ukraina miĊdzy dysfunkcjonalną demokracją a nieskonsolidowanym autorytaryzmem, Lublin: Instytut Europy ĝrodkowo-Wschodniej, 2011, p. 64.

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natural.31 The “hybridity” of such systems as the Ukrainian one would therefore be a result of the clash of the processes leading to democratization with “opposing tendencies” which are “oriented towards the preservation and petrification of authoritarian tendencies.”32 This seems to prove that the process of transformation after the fall of the USSR is still unfinished and still ongoing. The theory of hybrid regimes concerned a specific stage of transformation which took place after the fall of communism. It described the period of “the dominance of the uncertainty as to the results of the changes.”33 It appears that Jan Holzer and Stanislav Balík are right to conclude that this time is now gone and, after the year 2000, “regimes with regard to which one cannot observe a political community legitimating political elites in a more or less acceptable way, are rather something of an exception.” In other words, in the present situation, “the transition paradigm, whose product (…) and part is the theory of hybrid regimes, has been exhausted.”34 In spite of this, it has preserved its vitality, and researchers still refer to it because they probably cannot accept “the failure of a number of democratic projects” and instead prefer to “speculate about the new typological category.”35 This would be the reason for its popularity. Perhaps the most important weakness of transition speculations are not the a priori evaluative assumptions (democracy as a desired, relatively inevitable goal of transformation), but the weak link between theoretical reflection and empirical reality. This was probably the fundamental accusation on the basis of which Thomas Carothers formulated his fairly convincing critique of the transition paradigm.36 He presents a crossverification of the results of transformations of various authoritarian and totalitarian regimes which – as first optimistically assumed – should evolve in the direction of democracy. It turned out that, instead of joining the democratic community, a great majority of countries which supposedly entered the path of political and social transformation became part of the “gray zone.” A characteristic feature of the systems which belong to it is 31

Natalia Minenkova, Transformacja reĪimu politycznego Ukrainy za czasów niepodlegáoĞci, in: Polska i Ukraina – próba analizy systemu politycznego, eds. St. Sulowski et al., Warszawa, Dom Wydawniczy Elipsa, 2011, p. 85. 32 T. Olejarz, T. StĊpniewski, Ukraina miĊdzy…, p. 65. 33 J. Holzer, S. Balík, Postkomunistyczne reĪimy…, p. 59. 34 J. Holzer, S. Balík, Postkomunistyczne reĪimy…, pp. 59-60. 35 J. Holzer, S. Balík, Postkomunistyczne reĪimy…, p. 59. 36 T. Carothers, The End Of The Transition Paradigm, in: “Journal of Democracy”, Vol. 13 (2002), No. 1, pp. 5-21.

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not hybridity, i.e., the condition in which the initial political opening was unsuccessful. That is why elements of the democratic system clash with the remnants of the former non-democratic systems.37 It seems that the proper assessment of the success of this opening depends on the correct recognition of the actual goal that it had. The claim that it was liberal democracy, similarly to the conviction that practically everywhere one can implement its rules and standards, turned out to be based on very weak premises. This observation also concerns the case of Ukraine. The new institutions introduced to the constitutions of the “gray zone” states on the wave of transformation did not automatically become strongholds of democracy. Rather, they play the role of a smoke screen and form a peculiar background. They create the impression of a triumphant march of “the third wave of democratization” but as such they do not tell us anything about the actual rules according to which particular systems function in the “gray zone,” so they also tell us nothing about the perspectives for their real democratization. T. Carothers characterized these rules with the use of two “syndromes:” “feckless pluralism”38 and “dominant-power politics.”39

Pluralism From the point of view of our discussion, the issue of pluralism appears to be of particular interest. Its faultiness in the “gray zone” results from the alienation of elites, who for their own benefit petrified the nominally democratic institutions. During the transformation process, society did not obtain subjectivity in the system which was being formed. There is a fixed conviction in people’s consciousness that politics is inseparably linked with corruption, a network of vague connections and, additionally, that the state is weak. According to Carothers, pluralism in such a dwarf form exists mainly in Latin America. However, he also emphasizes that some of the symptoms of this syndrome may be observed in post-communist countries, including Ukraine.40 In the post-communist part of the “gray zone,” pluralism is restricted in three ways: by “stifling” the spheres of media and economy while the formal diversity of the political scene is maintained; by limiting political 37

Transformacja systemów politycznych paĔstw obszaru byáego Związku Radzieckiego, R. Herbut, W. Baluk (eds.), Wrocáaw: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Wrocáawskiego, 2010, p. 12. 38 T. Carothers, The End Of The Transition…, p. 10. 39 T. Carothers, The End Of The Transition…, p. 11. 40 T. Carothers, The End Of The Transition…, p. 11.

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competition while maintaining freedom in other spheres; or by striving for “monism,” which results from the mere nature of the ruling regime.41 In the case of Ukraine, it seems that the faultiness of the pluralism which emerged after the fall of the USSR first of all resulted from the subjugating, or rather restraining of the media, economy and the state itself through clan-oligarchic connections. At the same time, the case of Ukraine demonstrates quite well that pluralism is to some extent indivisible. When it is lacking in the sphere of economy and media, it also has weak foundations in the field of politics. Its main drawback is fecklessness. That is, there is little that the system as a whole can gain from pluralism alone. Media, economy and politics are like connected vessels. They can be analyzed separately only to a certain extent. It was clearly noticeable in the example of the “Orange Revolution.” One of its catalysts was the ruthless attempt to suppress the remnants of free media (the case of Georgiy Gongadze). At the same time, the ideological basis for the protest at the end of 2004 was the essentially political postulate to subjectify society. From the viewpoint of neopatrimonial rules according to which the political system in post-Soviet reality functions, this postulate has to be thought of as exceptionally radical and even subversive. Ukrainian society became the actual participant in the struggle for political leadership. In addition, the leaders of “orange” opposition announced the dismantling of the oligarchic system – which included putting an end to corruption and revoking the results of the so-called privatization which was based on the appropriation of state property by particular clans.42 The political objective of the “Orange Revolution” – which was for the opposition to stop the already prepared scenario of handing over the power – was achieved. In the long-term perspective, it provided grounds for the development of authentic – as far as post-Soviet conditions allowed – political pluralism in Ukraine. It was not yet able, however, to directly fulfill the hope for further democratization in the Western European sense. Actually, in the economic sphere, no real attempts were made to change the way it operated. First of all, it remained very closely linked with politics. It is part of the political system. It retained its oligarchic character. And because the Ukrainian media are very strongly dependent on business, their freedom still has quite weak foundations and a limited range. Also, in this sense, it 41

J. Holzer, S. Balík, Postkomunistyczne reĪimy…, p. 102. More on this topic: Tadeusz. A. OlszaĔski, Wybory prezydenckie na Ukrainie paĨdziernik-grudzieĔ 2004 roku, http://www.osw.waw.pl/pl/publikacje/praceosw/2005-10-15/wybory-prezydenckie-na-ukrainie-pazdziernik-grudzien-2004roku; Joanna Konieczna, PomaraĔczowa rewolucja na Ukrainie. Próba zrozumienia przyczyn , http://www.osw.waw.pl/sites/default/files/PRACE_18.pdf. 42

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may be said that the pluralism of the Ukrainian political scene which was shaped during the “Orange Revolution” turned out to be feckless. This does not mean, however, that from the viewpoint of the whole system it was worthless and meaningless. To some extent, the essence of the problems connected with the Ukrainian version of pluralism is reflected in the widely used phrase “pluralism by default.” This term describes a situation in which the diversity and intensity of social and economic divisions is so varied that it is impossible to control and reconcile them in an autocratic way.43 Although such pluralism is not able to guarantee the evolution of the system towards democracy in its “canonical” model version, it effectively prevents the introduction of authoritarian rule. It ought to be mentioned that, taking into account post-Soviet reality, this fact should not be disregarded. One of the reasons for the functional imperfection of pluralism in Ukraine is the fact that the “Orange Revolution” did not bring a breakthrough in relations between elites and society. Elites, typically for the “gray zone,” remained alienated. As Natalia Lazar observes, the characteristic trait of “the culture of forming elites in the post-Soviet region” is the vertical structure of power dependence and loyalty to the executive body. These rules supplant the use of the characteristically democratic principle of the “openness and competitiveness of ideas.”44 These features of the Ukrainian political elite are genetically conditioned, because what was lacking at the very beginning was “the rotation of elites.” The Soviet party nomenklatura remained at the helm of the changes after 1991. Its representatives focused primarily on their corporate interests and did not care “for the public welfare, not to mention ideological values according to which the replacement of one type of social institutions by others should be conducted.”45 At the beginning of the transformation the counter-elites were too weak to oppose the dominance of the nomenklatura. In a way, this was achieved during the “Orange Revolution,” but then it turned out that representatives of the opposition “were not able to implement reforms in the nation’s interest,”

43 Hans van Zon, Political Culture and Neo-Patrimonialism under Leonid Kuchma, in: “Problems of Post-Communism”, Vol. 52, No. 5, September/October 2005, p. 15. 44 ɇɚɬɚɥɿɹ Ʌɚɡɚɪ, ɉɚɪɚɞɨɤɫɢ ɩɨɥɿɬɢɱɧɢɯ ɬɪɚɧɫɮɨɪɦɚɰɿɣ ɩɨɫɬɪɚɞɹɧɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɩɪɨɫɬɨɪɭ, in: ɍɤɪɚʀɧɚ – Ȼɿɥɨɪɭɫɶ: ɩɨɥɿɬɢɱɧɿ, ɟɤɨɧɨɦɿɱɧɿ ɬɚ ɤɭɥɶɬɭɪɧɿ ɚɫɩɟɤɬɢ ɜɡɚɽɦɢɧ, Ⱥ. Ʉɪɭɝɥɚɲɨɜ (ed.) ɑɟɪɧɿɜɰɿ-ȼɿɥɶɧɸɫ: Ȼɭɤɪɟɤ, 2007, p. 274. 45 N. Minenkova, Transformacja reĪimu…, pp. 84-85.

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which led to the loss of power and public trust.46 It does not mean, however, that nothing changed in Ukraine after 2004. Natalia Rotar highlights a characteristic disharmony in the structure of the political system in Ukraine. It results from the fact that during the transformation after the fall of the USSR, a noticeably democratic society was shaped in Ukraine, while the “political environment” has remained “uncompetitive.”47 Obviously, the claim about democratization of Ukrainian society as a whole would be too great a generalization. It is more appropriate to talk about two co-existing models of society. The first one is open to the processes of democratization and modernization of the inner social structure. The second, however, functions according to patrimonial rules. Each of these models is geographically and culturally rooted in a particular part of Ukraine. They clash with each other, but it seems that social modernization actually becomes the dominant tendency.48 Rotar predicts that from the viewpoint of “meeting the citizens’ needs for direct participation in politics,” the significance of “other channels of political activity” will grow, including those of a “non-party character.”49 This statement may be considered the starting point for further discussion. Its center will be the hypothesis that already at this time, religion and religious communities in Ukraine are channeling the political activity of part of society. It can be expected that it may be a lasting tendency which will hold in the future as well. In particular, we are concerned here with the Orthodox and the Greek Orthodox Churches. In other words, the most important Eastern Christian denominational communities functioning in Ukraine are a medium which provides help for at least some citizens to participate in the political life of their own country. It ought to be emphasized that in relation to formally institutionalized access paths to the political system, this specific “channel of political activity” is in part an alternative, and is also partly of auxiliary character. This means that, on the one hand, the Orthodox and Greek Orthodox Churches enable people to express their own political views and preferences irrespective of the elections currently taking place. At the same time, however, they are used as an additional tool to stimulate the electorate during the electoral campaign or as a means for legitimating the authorities. In Ukraine, the confessional and political spheres are quite closely linked. The rules according to which Ukrainian religious life functions 46

N. Minenkova, Transformacja reĪimu…, p. 85. ɇɚɬɚɥɿɹ Ɋɨɬɚɪ, ɉɨɥɿɬɢɱɧɚ ɭɱɚɫɬɶ ɝɪɨɦɚɞɹɧ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ɭ ɫɢɫɬɟɦɧɢɯ ɬɪɚɧɫɮɨɪɦɚɰɿɹɯ ɩɟɪɟɯɿɞɧɨɝɨ ɩɟɪɿɨɞɭ, ɑɟɪɧɿɜɰɿ: Ɋɭɬɚ 2007, p. 428. 48 Hans van Zon, Political Culture and …, p. 15. 49 ɇ. Ɋɨɬɚɪ, ɉɨɥɿɬɢɱɧɚ ɭɱɚɫɬɶ…, p. 428. 47

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influence the way the political system works. To illustrate this thesis, the words of one of the active participants of this system are worth mentioning – a deputy to the Supreme Council on behalf of the Party of Regions, Volodymyr Zubanov, said that the multi-denominational character, including the inner diversity of the Orthodox Church in Ukraine, belongs to “natural safeguards” which protect the Ukrainian political system from drifting towards dictatorship and authoritarianism.50 Political pluralism is aided by religious pluralism. The latter seems to have quite strong institutional as well as doctrinal foundations. However, in some circumstances, it also turns out to be dysfunctional. This is the case with, for instance, the divisions inside the Orthodox Church. While the secession from the authority of the Moscow Patriarchate has, apart from all others, also important cultural and historical reasons, it is difficult to claim the same about the ongoing division between the UAOP (Ukrainian Autocephalous Orthodox Church) and the UOC KP (Ukrainian Orthodox Church Kyiv Patriarchate). It has no justification, either in terms of tradition or liturgical practice, not to mention any dogmatic differences. Both communities also support the sovereignty of the Ukrainian state. Andriy Pashuk is right to note that competition and lack of agreement between these communities result from the crisis and “chaos” in the “spiritual-religious” sphere, and not from healthy pluralism.51

Neopatrimonialism It seems that a very useful tool for describing the Ukrainian political system is the concept of neopatrimonialism. It should be underlined that it ought not to be considered another category of regime as an alternative for the dichotomy democracy – non-democracy. This term refers to “organizational convictions and practices” which can be found both in authoritarianism and democracy. It encompasses a number of phenomena and regularities which significantly influence the way in which a given regime functions. A few such fundamental principles can be enumerated which constitute neopatrimonialism. First, it is the personalization of power which results in political programs losing significance and moving the figure of the leader to the forefront. Second, it is a developed form of clientelism which in the case of Ukraine is based mainly on regional, family and material interrelations. Third, in neopatrimonialism, political 50

ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɚ ɛɚɝɚɬɨɤɨɧɮɟɫɿɣɧɿɫɬɶ – ɡɚɩɨɛɿɠɧɢɤ ɜɿɞ ɞɢɤɬɚɬɭɪɢ, - ɩɨɥɿɬɢɤ http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/all_news/community/religion_and_society/45906/. 51 Ⱥɧɞɪɿɣ ɉɚɲɭɤ, ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɚ ɰɟɪɤɜɚ ɿ ɧɟɡɚɥɟɠɧɿɫɬɶ, Ʌɶɜɿɜ: ȼɢɞɚɜɧɢɱɢɣ ɰɟɧɬɪ Ʌɇɍ ɿɦɟɧɿ ȱɜɚɧɚ Ɏɪɚɧɤɚ, 2003, pp. 345-346.

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processes are limited to the boundaries of the state which dominates society. The role of the latter in the above-mentioned processes is systematically marginalized. Among other important features of neopatrimonialism is the coexistence of the elements of modern social structure built on the autonomy of various subsystems with “numerous traditional and half-traditional forms,” such as, for instance, connections and interrelations of clan character.52 An important element of neopatrimonial relations is also corruption as a method of practicing politics and achieving political goals.53 Due to the fact that the concept of neopatrimonialism is deeply rooted in Max Weber’s54 thought, it is impossible to omit one more extremely significant feature – the meaning of bureaucracy and the ways in which it works. This issue is of utmost importance for us. It is enough to state that because of the legal status (lack of legal personality of a given community as a whole) and property ownership status (lack of reprivatization of Church property), the Orthodox and Greek Orthodox Churches are heavily dependent on state administration at various levels. In Ukraine, where the neopatrimonial model of the inner organization of the political regime is deeply rooted, “the modern and consolidated state apparatus” has not been created. On the contrary, it is closer to a “mosaic of separate institutions more concerned of safeguarding their own privileges than in serving society.”55 The state apparatus in Ukraine functions according to rules which have little in common with Weber’s model of rational bureaucracy. Inside, it is consolidated by the principle of loyalty based on material stimuli and rewards.56 Also, the key to being promoted or keeping a post are not qualifications, efficiency or constitutional rules, but unconditional loyalty towards the personified power.57 As a result, the regime according to which bureaucracy functions is based on “clientelist-patronage” connections and not on “rational-legal relations within the boundaries of official systems of mutual interaction.”58 52

N. Minenkova, Transformacja reĪimu…, p. 84. For a synthetical list of features of neopatrimonialism see N. Minenkova, Transformacja reĪimu…, pp. 83-84. 54 S. N. Eisenstadt, Traditional Patrimonialism and Modern Neopatrimonialism, Beverly Hills, Sage, 1973. 55 H. van Zon, Political Culture and…, p. 15. 56 Ɉɥɟɤɫɚɧɞɪ Ɏɢɫɭɧ, Ʉ ɩɟɪɟɨɫɦɵɫɥɟɧɢɸ ɩɨɫɬɫɨɜɟɬɫɤɨɣ ɩɨɥɢɬɢɤɢ: ɧɟɨɩɚɬɪɢɦɨɧɹɥɶɧɚɹ ɢɧɬɟɪɩɪɟɬɚɰɢɹ in: “ɉɨɥɢɬɢɱɟɫɤɚɹ ɤɨɧɰɟɩɬɨɥɨɝɢɹ”, No. 4 (2010), p. 163. 57 Ɉ. Ɏɢɫɭɧ, Ʉ ɩɟɪɟɨɫɦɵɫɥɟɧɢɸ…, p. 163. 58 Ɉ. Ɏɢɫɭɧ, Ʉ ɩɟɪɟɨɫɦɵɫɥɟɧɢɸ…, p. 169. 53

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In this structure, the formalized “rational-legal relations” are only to keep up appearances. Such a situation continues at least until a given system is identical with the regime, that is, as long as this system is tightly filled with a hierarchically ordered structure of institutions of state power and a combination of their interrelations. The moment when, apart from these elements, autonomous and sufficiently strong actors appear in the life of the community and when they have been made part of the system, the pretense built on institutions characteristic of a contemporary state such as the “parliament, multi-party system, electoral mechanisms, and modern constitution”59 may take on a real meaning, while at least partially losing its purely formal character. This is what happened in Ukraine during the events of the so-called “Orange Revolution.” If we want to answer why this pretense in Ukraine can sometimes be activated to a greater or lesser extent in the structure of the whole system, the materials it is made of have to be examined. These materials are elements of the democratic system developed in West Europe and rooted in its culture in a broad sense of the word. Doubtlessly, after being transferred to the post-Soviet ground, they have undergone “a thorough transformation.”60 As a result, instead of stimulating democratization, they protect “the process of reproducing traditional forms of patrimonial rule.”61 At the same time, however, it ought to be remembered that the political system which is a framework for neopatrimonial relations is a synthesis of the heritage of tradition and modernity.62 It seems highly probable that it is this heritage of Ukrainian tradition that sometimes enabled democratic institutions to be activated. Due to their historical heritage, the Ukrainian lands have for centuries been part – even if only a peripheral part – of European axial civilization whose emanation includes, among others, democratic values and related institutions. It could seem that potentially, thanks to this heritage, the democratization of the Ukrainian system has good foundations. It ought to be borne in mind, however, that under Ukrainian conditions, the return to “European roots” takes place according to the principles of neotraditionalization.63 It seems that it is a very complex process which follows an irregular course. While in the case of a considerable part of 59

Ɉ. Ɏɢɫɭɧ, Ʉ ɩɟɪɟɨɫɦɵɫɥɟɧɢɸ…, p. 169. Ɉ. Ɏɢɫɭɧ, Ʉ ɩɟɪɟɨɫɦɵɫɥɟɧɢɸ…, p. 172. 61 Ɉ. Ɏɢɫɭɧ, Ʉ ɩɟɪɟɨɫɦɵɫɥɟɧɢɸ…, p. 172. 62 Ɉ. Ɏɢɫɭɧ, Ʉ ɩɟɪɟɨɫɦɵɫɥɟɧɢɸ…, p. 162. 63 Jadwiga Staniszkis, Postkomunizm. Próba opisu, GdaĔsk: Sáowo/Obraz/ Terytoria, 2005, pp. 135-150. 60

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Ukrainian society neotraditionalization actually turns out to be the “modernization strategy” characteristic of post-communist conditions, as far as especially the vast majority of elites is concerned, “neotraditional techniques and survival strategies” lead to “results which are far from modern.” The process of shaping a modern social structure based on “specialization and differentiation” of particular spheres of social life is hampered by the lack of division between the system of holding political power and economy and by the reduction of the “externalization of costs and benefits” as well as “class privileges.”64 This, in turn, fosters the preservation of neopatrimonial mechanisms and regularities. In the post-Soviet region, neopatrimonialism has a few specific attributes. First of all, one should mention the peculiar phenomenon of “political entrepreneurs” who invest their money in current politics in the hope that it will bring profits thanks to favorable state policy. In the center of this mechanism there is neopatriarchal bureaucracy which fulfills its economic objectives thanks to the possibility of connecting the public sphere with private property.65 All of the above creates a specifically post-communist structure of connections and relations in the economic sphere which is called “political capitalism.”66 It consists of: “hybrid property (not full privatization); organized markets based on co-optation (…); making use of various forms of ‘rent-seeking’ while obtaining special operating conditions, information and concessions; highly politicized and selective access to market institutions which lower the costs and risk (various kinds of export guarantees, credit guarantees, debt relief, recapitalization and the like).”67 The next characteristic attribute of post-Soviet neopatrimonialism is the tendency to use the state administration as a means for fighting opposition and economic competition. Apart from other factors, it is thanks to this tendency that the network of connections and relationships based on the principle of clientelism and patronage is built. It has a decisive influence on the way in which political and economic spheres operate.68 The state is to a considerable extent alienated from society and the public sphere is dominated by the cult of power.69 Various factors influenced (and still influence) the process of transformation in post-communist countries. It is usually thought that one 64

J. Staniszkis, Postkomunizm…, p. 146. Ɉ. Ɏɢɫɭɧ, Ʉ ɩɟɪɟɨɫɦɵɫɥɟɧɢɸ…, p. 168. 66 J. Staniszkis, Postkomunizm…, p. 141. 67 J. Staniszkis, Postkomunizm…, p. 141. 68 Ɉ. Ɏɢɫɭɧ, Ʉ ɩɟɪɟɨɫɦɵɫɥɟɧɢɸ…, p. 168. 69 H. van Zon, Political Culture and…, p. 19. 65

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of them is the consensus among elites which was to initiate the changes. Their actual direction depended on the content of this “consensus.” Where a “democratic elite pact”70 was reached, “velvet revolutions” took place and the process of democratization commenced. In Ukraine, however, similarly to many other post-Soviet countries, the goal of the consensus among predominantly nomenklatura elites was the appropriation of the emerging state and creation of a regime which would ensure a monopoly on access to “rent-seeking.” And here we can find the roots of neopatrimonial mechanisms which dominated the way in which many political systems function, including the one in Ukraine. In the case of Ukraine, one of the forms in which the aforesaid consensus materialized was the majority – the so-called “group of 239” – which established itself in parliament in June 1990 and which consisted mainly of representatives of the regional nomenklatura and the industrialagrarian lobby. Under its political auspices, a mechanism was created which enabled the effective collecting of “rent-seeking.”71 However, the nomenklatura majority in parliament which was established in mid-1990 quickly fell apart. The factional configurations and banners changed; mechanisms which provided access to the benefits evolved. In general, however, the neopatrimonial logic of elites’ actions were constant and inalterable. Even such a seemingly serious upheaval as the “Orange Revolution” did not change it.72 Contrary to appearances, this should not 70

Ɉ. Ɏɢɫɭɧ, Ʉ ɩɟɪɟɨɫɦɵɫɥɟɧɢɸ…, p. 160. Serhiy Kudelia, The Sources of Continuity and Change of Ukraine’s Incomplete State, in: “Communist and Post-Communist Studies”, 45 (2012), p. 419. 72 What proves that the genuine victory of these principles in Ukraine – in spite of the formal success of the “Orange Revolution” – was still far away, is for instance the President’s practice of issuing decrees with the “not for publication” clause. “Non-legal secrecy clauses” were very frequently used by Leonid Kuchma (Jurij MacijewĞkyj, MiĊdzy autorytaryzmem i demokracją: ustrój polityczny w Ukrainie po „pomaraĔczowej rewolucji”, in: “Nowa Ukraina”, Nos. 1-2 (5-6) 2008, p. 160) and they were one of the important means with which the President, with his officials, built a multi-level “pyramid of informal institutionalized rules of holding power” (cf. Jurij MacijewĞkyj, MiĊdzy autorytaryzmem…, p. 154). The number of these so-called secret decrees rose especially at the end of Kuchma’s presidency. On average, he issued up to 80 such decrees a year. After the victory of the “Orange Revolution” the representatives of the new power revealed that the former president used the decrees with the “not for publication” clause to interfere in the process of the so-called privatization (Oleh Protsyk, Constitutional Politics and Presidential Power in Kuchma’s Ukraine, in: “Problems of Post-Communism”, Vol. 52, No. 5, September/October 2005, pp. 29-30). However, it turns out that Kuchma’s successor, Victor Yushchenko, within only 10 months of 2005 issued 71

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be surprising. This is because only a few years earlier, both the leaders of the “orange opposition” and those in power co-created neopatrimonial mechanisms. The symbol of this regularity is the figure of Victor Yushchenko, who in 1993, thanks to the protectorate of the agrarian lobby, became the President of the National Bank of Ukraine – one of the state institutions which are of key importance for the process of generating “rent-seeking.”73 According to Oleksandr Fisun, the trigger for “color revolutions” in the post-Soviet region was the conflict between “neopatrimonial bureaucracy” and political entrepreneurs. The latter rebelled against the rising costs of their participation in the patronage-clientelist structure.74 Thus, what would be at stake was the renegotiation of the “elite agreement,” reducing the costs of accessing the privileges, potentially also enlarging the group of subjects which could take part in the distribution of profits. In Western European cultural reality and in modernized society, politics constitutes an autonomous subsystem. Its autonomy is based, among other things, on its own rules and ethical norms. They determine the specific way (typical of politics) to recognize what is good, proper and what is bad, unacceptable. We disregard at this point the classic debate over so-called moral absolutism and relativism, i.e., the controversy over the question concerning the identity of moral norms which an individual and “governments” are bound to follow.75 We will limit ourselves to Max Weber’s conclusion that “any ethic of the world could establish commandments of identical content for erotic, business, familial, and official relations; for the relations to one’s wife, to the greengrocer, the son, the competitor, friend, the defendant.”76 Of course, the norms which determine ethical choices made in the sphere of politics do not function in a vacuum. They are interrelated and to some extent naturally intermingle with the rules effective in other subsystems; religious or economic. In Ukrainian reality the “ethical autonomy” of politics was seriously violated. It was dominated by the rules transferred from the economic sphere. In a way, it is a natural consequence of the characteristically the next 42 such decrees with the aforesaid secrecy clause. He was not able to (could not) abandon this practice, although he publicly pledged himself to do it (cf. Jurij MacijewĞkyj, MiĊdzy autorytaryzmem…, p. 160). 73 S. Kudelia, The Sources of Continuity…, p. 419. 74 Ɉ. Ɏɢɫɭɧ, Ʉ ɩɟɪɟɨɫɦɵɫɥɟɧɢɸ…, p. 180. 75 For more on this topic, see for example Glenn Tinder, Political Thinking: The Perennial Questions, New York: Pearson Longman, 2004, pp. 134-166. 76 Max Weber, Politics as a vocation in: From Max Weber. Essays in sociology, New York: Oxford University Press, 1946, pp. 118-119

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neopatrimonial lack of distinction between politics and economy. Here, the main focus of politics are actions which aim to fight against (business, political) competition and “sever foreigners from participating in the exploitation of state resources.” In this structure, political parties and other forms which institutionalize political life take on the form and function of cartels.77 It has to be noted that the alliance between the former communist nomenklatura and organized criminal groups exerted, especially at the dawn of the Ukrainian independence, a profound influence on the formation of the country’s economic sphere. The standards of the mafia were transferred onto the political sphere and they took on systemic properties. This fact made one of the Ukrainian political scientists describe the political-economic order in Ukraine, emerging as a result of transformation, as “kleptocracy,” i.e. the “rule by thieves.”78 The basic tool for achieving goals through this kleptocratic system became corruption.79 This should not, however, be treated as an incidental source of extra illegal profit for those in power. Under the rule of Leonid Kuchma, corruption became the means which enabled executives to concentrate power in their hands. The main goal of corruption was a selective application of law which, on the one hand, gave various interested actors different benefits and privileges but, on the other, bound them even more closely with the existing order and made them dependent on it. In other words, corruption became an important tool for exerting influence, due to which it helped Leonid Kuchma maintain his control over the system.80 However, there are no indications which would imply that any vital changes took place in this respect after 2004.81 The reasons why corruption became – so far on a quite permanent basis – inscribed in the structure of the Ukrainian political system must be 77

Ɉ. Ɏɢɫɭɧ, Ʉ ɩɟɪɟɨɫɦɵɫɥɟɧɢɸ…, p. 160. The Political Analysis of Postcommunism…, pp. 165-171. 79 For more information about corruption in post-Soviet countries, cf. Leslie Holmes, Rotten States? Corruption, Post-Communism, and Neoliberalizm, Durham: Duke University Press, 2006; V. Stepanenko, Civil Society in Post-Soviet Ukraine: Civic Ethos in the Framework of Corrupted Sociality? in: “East European Politics & Societies,” August 2011 Vol. 25 No. 3, pp. 597-639; A. L. Osipian, Corruption and Reform in Higher Education in Ukraine, in: “Canadian and International Education / Education canadienne et international:” Vol. 38: Iss. 2, Article 8, pp. 104-122. 80 Paul D’Anieri, What Has Changed in Ukrainian Politics? Assessing the Implications of the Orange Revolution, in: “Problems of Post-Communism”, Vol. 52, No. 5, September/October 2005, p. 89. 81 http://www.transparency.org/country#UKR. 78

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sought in, among others, the character of bureaucracy which was formed there after 1991. When Ukraine was undergoing the process of becoming an independent state, the continuity of the bureaucratization, democratization and industrialization processes was disturbed.82 This means that when the process of democratization and the formation of an independent state commenced, the rationality of bureaucracy was still being applied to the Soviet system which was, right at that time, being demolished. The role of the state apparatus was to authorize and monitor economic relations within the centrally planned economy. In the new situation of 1991, the rationality of the same apparatus was to assign tasks connected with “public service.” As it turned out later, this concept, under Ukrainian circumstances, began to be associated with services which were to be rewarded by means of bribes.83 In the mid-nineties, it might have seemed that Ukrainian kleptocracy was only a temporary phenomenon. Therefore, it was expected that, in the near future, Ukraine would be faced with an inevitable alternative as to the further direction of the transformation of the system. The possibility was that either radical economic reforms, privatization and denationalization would take place, which would enable the state to function in accordance with democratic standards or, if not, Ukraine would assume its own “Belarusian version” in which it would exist solely within the Russiancentric Commonwealth of Independent States.84 From the perspective of twenty or so years following the collapse of the USSR , it becomes clear that, contrary to the primary expectations that kleptocracy would also collapse, it consolidated in the form of various notcompletely-formal mechanisms and political institutions, which were adjusted to the neo-patrimonial logic of the functioning of the system. The arising harmony provides overall stability. It is true that in such a system the possibilities of the articulation of the interests of different social groups from beyond the governing camp are extremely limited, especially when they diverge from the interests of the authorities and their background. However, as long as those in power can afford to remain “independent” of society, this does not matter much for the stability of the whole system. They do not lose their power until the society gains its subjectivity. Such an opportunity arises when, e.g., elections are held in an honest way. To sum up, we can say that in the case of Ukraine, kleptocracy turned out to be livelier than expected. This does not mean, 82

Ɉ. Ɏɢɫɭɧ, Ʉ ɩɟɪɟɨɫɦɵɫɥɟɧɢɸ…, p. 159. H. van Zon, Political Culture and…, p. 15. 84 The Political Analysis of Postcommunism…, p. 171, 83

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however, that it is permanent and that any change or improvement is impossible. Kleptocracy is sometimes perceived as a sort of natural consequence of the transformation process of the totalitarian system. In this approach, the political regime in Ukraine could be placed in the phase of transition from totalitarianism to democracy referred to as “criminalizm.”85 The key issue of this approach is a new vision of a basic division of the society into honest people (non-criminals) and dishonest people (criminals). The latter subdue the former and exploit them, taking advantage of the fact that since the totalitarian regime collapsed, the honest part of society has not possessed its appropriate “social culture,” and has therefore remained defenseless.86 In this approach, the sense of democracy lies in the fact that power is exerted by honest people. Although such an understanding of democracy must, naturally, seem naïve, one has to admit that, considering the present state of the Ukrainian political system, it is quite right. The events surrounding the “Orange Revolution” have shown that there is no automatic overlapping between relatively democratic elections and the way the bureaucratic structures of the state work afterwards. Here, the “public service ethos” is still “weakly developed.”87 If we look at Ukrainian bureaucracy from the point of view of the Western-European standards of Weber’s model of a “modern rational capitalism” in which rationality is based on “the calculability of the most important technical factors”, on “calculable legal system” and on “administration in terms of formal rules”88, we will come to the conclusion that it is pathologically dysfunctional. This does not mean, however, that the bureaucracy is completely irrational, since its rationality is adjusted to the neopatrimonial relationships and the kleptocratic regularities that follow. Another problem is the fact that, at the same time, this type of rationality undermines the authority of the state built on such foundations as well as the power which is exerted there. This is clearly visible in the results of sociological studies, which have aimed to research the public confidence in the most important institutions of public life. They imply that in 2001 there was a clear deficiency of confidence in the basic 85

Oɥɟɤɫɚɧɞɪ Ʉɨɫɬɟɧɤɨ, Ⱥɧɬɢɤɪɢɦɿɧɚɥɶɧɚ ɪɟɜɨɥɸɰɿɹ ɡ ɩɨɦɚɪɚɧɱɟɜɨɸ ɜɿɞɡɧɚɤɨɸ, http://umoloda.kiev.ua/number/344/115/12430/?fb_action_ids=638356476020210 88&fb_action_types=og.likes&fb_source=aggreg 86 O. Ʉɨɫɬɟɧɤɨ, Ⱥɧɬɢɤɪɢɦɿɧɚɥɶɧɚ… 87 H. van Zon, Political Culture and…, p. 16. 88 Max Weber, The protestant ethic and the spirit of capitalism, New YorkLondon: Charles Scribner’s Sons and George Allen & Unwin Ltd 1950, pp. 24-25.

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structures associated with state power (the police, prosecution, the judicial system, local and central authorities).89 The results of the public survey unambiguously show how this situation worsened in subsequent years.90 The question of public confidence in the authorities and their structures could be – surely without the risk of too much oversimplification – linked with the problem of authority and legitimization. This is true especially if we assume that, key to the legitimization of the government are “structure, procedures, acts, decisions, policies, officials or leaders of government” who, according to the public opinion, “possess the quality of rightness, propriety, or moral goodness.”91 The paradigm of the analysis of the political system postulated by the concept of neo-patrimonializm seems to rightly explain the reasons why the government does not have to strive too much for legitimization thus understood. One might even think that the above-mentioned legitimizing factors are completely redundant. However, that they sometimes prove to be useful or even indispensable for maintaining one’s power became evident in Leonid Kuchma’s as well as Victor Yanukovych’s political backgrounds in 2004. Their honesty and “integrity” were questioned. What is more, the lack of public confidence did not result from any belief or disbelief in these or those character traits of the candidate favored by the outgoing president, but was based on hard facts (G. Gongadze’s case, Kuchma’s criminal record). In this context, one must notice yet another continued trend showed in the studies of the level of social confidence in various public life institutions in Ukraine. It concerns the high position that religious communities occupy in this ranking. In these studies, they occur under the collective term “the Orthodox Church.” Undoubtedly, the term refers, above all, to the Orthodox Church and the Greek-Catholic Church communities which are of interest to us here. The “Orthodox Church” thus understood has for many years occupied the first position in the results of the above-mentioned studies. Most important, however, is not its position in such ratings but the enormous distance that separates the Orthodox Church and the remaining participants. We could even use the term chasm with reference to the separation seen in the results of the latest studies.92 89

H. van Zon, Political Culture and…, p. 18. ɍɤɪɚʀɧɰɿ ɞɨɜɿɪɹɸɬɶ ɥɢɲɟ ɐɟɪɤɜɿ ɬɚ ɠɭɪɧɚɥɿɫɬɚɦ – ɨɩɢɬɭɜɚɧɧɹ, http://gazeta.ua/articles/life/_ukrajinci-doviryayut-lishe-cerkvi-ta-zhurnalistamopituvannya/457337. 91 R. Dahl., B. Stinebrickner., Modern Political…, p. 60. 92 H. van Zon, Political Culture and…, p. 18; ɍɤɪɚʀɧɰɿ ɞɨɜɿɪɹɸɬɶ…, http://gazeta.ua/articles/life/_ukrajinci-doviryayut-lishe cerkvi-ta zhurnalistamopituvannya/457337. 90

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On the basis of the above, we can, for our own use, draw two conclusions. First, it seems that most of society’s ideal of what character traits people in power should possess and the actual practice of public life are diametrically divergent, so they form “parallel worlds.” Second, a number of premises testify to the fact that the Orthodox and the GreekCatholic Churches could be viewed as elements of the Ukrainian political system, since they enjoy a high level of public confidence. Also, their organizational structure is relatively well-developed and stable. Furthermore, both Churches are the depositories of values and customs which are extremely important from the point of view of “unarticulated knowledge.” This is, above all, a collection of beliefs concerning society’s own civilization and cultural identity, which determines the way such concepts as freedom, pluralism or patriotism are understood. In terms of the functioning of the political system, the above-mentioned values remain meaningless symbols as long as the neo-patrimonial mechanisms of obtaining and maintaining loyalty as well as the key actors of the system, which are based on material incentives, clientelism and patronage, work effectively. The moment they begin to fail and lose their effectiveness, the so-far meaningless symbols take on meaning and are filled with content. As a result, the hitherto symbolic power of both Orthodox Churches also becomes political in character, and the role of the Orthodox Church increases enormously within the system. Through their activity in the public sphere, the Orthodox Churches can foster the consolidation of neopatrimonial mechanisms of the system or, quite the opposite, weaken them and stimulate their erosion.

Perspectives on the Democratization of Ukraine’s Political System With respect to countries such as Ukraine, the partial character of the systemic reforms implemented there is sometimes underlined.93 Implicitly, perhaps there lurks a subconscious assumption that it is all about that part of the whole in which, in each case of post-communist transformation, there was to be an effective market economy. At the same time, it is taken for granted that such transformations must be associated with certain costs and pathologies. As a result, there appear “short-term losers” and “short-

93

Joel S. Hellman, Winners Take All: The Politics of Partial Reform in Postcommunist Transitions, in: “World Politics,” Vol. 50, No. 2 (Jan., 1998), pp. 203234.

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term winners.”94 Both the loss and the victory, just as those costs and pathologies, are treated in advance as temporary phenomena, parts of a whole, a stage on the way to the right target. Already in 1998, Joel Hellman noticed that those who gained something from all the turmoil of the transformation exhibited a tendency to maintain the “equilibrium” developed as a result of partial reforms. In accordance with this “equilibrium,” the pension that this limited group of people gets for having played a certain role during the transformation process is balanced by the high costs paid by the rest of society.95 The concept of the “third wave of democratization” influenced, to a great extent, the interpretation of the systemic changes that took place in the countries and societies in which totalitarianism or authoritarianism had collapsed or been overthrown. As the waiting time for the expected democratic fruits of transformations lengthened, the descriptions of the situations in the countries where the transformation was taking place began to incorporate different terminology meant to reflect the allegedly temporary state of a given system – e.g. “semi-democracy,” “formal democracy,” “election democracy,” etc.96 Oleksandr Fisun describes them, quite rightly, as “theoretical oxymorons.”97 This Ukrainian political scientist blames their origin on Ukraine’s holding fast to traditional dichotomy: democracy versus totalitarianism (authoritarianism). It seems, however, that there is nothing wrong with such a fundamental division when it serves as a basis for the analysis of transformations, like those that took place in post-Soviet countries. Perhaps it could be reformulated a bit, i.e. we could replace the term “totalitarianism” or “authoritarianism” with the term “non-democracy.” The idea that the fundamental division between democratic and non-democratic regimes should not be blurred has its methodological justification.98 However, it is not this division that forces researchers of transformational processes to play a dangerous game with words and concepts. Probably, this happens more because an a priori 94

J. S. Hellman, Winners Take All…, pp. 203-204. J. S. Hellman, Winners Take All…, pp. 204-205. It is very characteristic that representatives of both “the Oranges” and the “Blues” spend their holidays in the same luxurious hotels and spas at the same time – ȼɢɤɬɨɪ ɑɢɜɨɤɭɧɹ, Ʉɢɟɜɫɤɢɟ ɧɨɦɟɪɚ ɜ Ɇɨɧɬɟ-Ʉɚɪɥɨ: ɋɭɪɤɢɫ ɧɚ "Ɇɚɣɛɚɯɟ", ɀɜɚɧɢɹ ɧɚ "Ȼɟɧɬɥɢ", http://www.pravda.com.ua/rus/articles/2006/08/22/4404183/. 96 For more examples, cf. T. Carothers, The End Of The Transition…, p. 10. 97 The expression has been borrowed from O. Fisun – see Ɉ. Ɏɢɫɭɧ, Ʉ ɩɟɪɟɨɫɦɵɫɥɟɧɢɸ…, p. 158. 98 For more information cf. J. Holzer, S. Balík, Postkomunistyczne reĪimy…, pp. 90-92. 95

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conviction exists that non-democracies that collapse or are overthrown must be or should be replaced with democracy. This conviction resulted from a poor knowledge of the foundation which models and standards of Western democracy had come upon. This particularly refers to the structure and content of “unarticulated knowledge.” With hindsight, it becomes clear that the lack of this knowledge makes it difficult to properly interpret social and political processes taking place in post-Soviet areas, including Ukraine. One gets the impression that this allegedly common universality of the applied interpretational scheme, which was based on the “democracy versus authoritarianism (totalitarianism)” dichotomy, was to compensate for those severe shortcomings. The widespread use of this approach in analyzing transformations over the post-Soviet area led to the “scholastic search for the struggle between democratic and non-democratic values, the clash between “good” and “bad” political powers.99 In this paradigm, any analysis of the real sense of political struggle, the dynamics of conflicts within the elite or the tendencies of the development of the political regimes of post-Soviet societies was impossible.100 Why is this paradigm so permanent in character? One could assume that, to a great extent, it was the question of a certain fashion, which Oleksandr Fisun quite bluntly defined as the “hypnosis of Huntington’s concept of ‘the Third Wave’ of democratization.”101 It seems that the power of that hypnosis resulted (results) from the fact that it is strongly axiologically marked. It was based on the belief that a democratic choice was inherently good. The totalitarian Soviet Union was the “evil empire.” In this context, the understanding of democracy, which is the opposite of totalitarianism, as a synonym of good, might have seemed obvious at that time. Representatives of post-communist elites eagerly made references, and they still do, to democratic phraseology since, under such circumstances, it was a very convenient tool for the legitimization of their actions. With time, the effectiveness of this tool can deteriorate for a variety of reasons. In such a situation, there is a need to construct some sort of alternative vision of the system which will no longer be “democratic,” but will still seem “good” (at least it will be possible to present it in this way). It appears that at the moment, religion may prove a potential reservoir of ideological justifications for the aforementioned alternative. 99

Ɉ. Ɏɢɫɭɧ, Ʉ ɩɟɪɟɨɫɦɵɫɥɟɧɢɸ…, p. 158. Ɉ. Ɏɢɫɭɧ, Ʉ ɩɟɪɟɨɫɦɵɫɥɟɧɢɸ…, p. 158. 101 Ɉ. Ɏɢɫɭɧ, Ʉ ɩɟɪɟɨɫɦɵɫɥɟɧɢɸ…, p. 159. 100

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In the case of Ukraine, which is of particular interest to us, this mostly concerns the Orthodox Church. There are attempts to use it for the legitimization of different, sometimes essentially contradictory activities, such as the political reintegration of the post-Soviet area under the hegemony of Moscow on the one hand, and on the other – the consolidation of the independence and sovereignty of the Ukrainian state. Each of these two tendencies implies a different direction of the evolution of the political system in Ukraine, and the Orthodox Church is attributed the justification for promoted changes. In this system, what is “good” begins to be equated with “Orthodox” and not “democratic.” As a result, certain concepts and slogans connected with religion start appearing in seemingly astonishing contexts. However, in their essence they have their justification in the logic of the changes which are taking place within the system.102 Thomas Carothers, while outlining his vision of the “gray zone,” stipulated that, when it comes to the future of the countries and systems which belong to it, nothing has been decided yet because none of the political systems are eternal.103 One of the things that may change is the fundamental feature which determines whether a given case should be assigned to the “gray zone” – faulty unproductive pluralism or a situation where one political power or center of power dominates the system. Another possibility is to leave this zone – both towards democracy and non-democracy. Does that mean, then, that for each individual case belonging to the “gray zone” we can say that “everything is possible?” Probably not. It does not seem likely that we could acknowledge that the possibilities of changes are practically limitless. They are limited, among other things, by “unarticulated knowledge” acquired through the local economic, cultural and historical circumstances as well as by the experience gained during the hitherto process of transformation.

102

For example, in 2011 it was the President of Ukraine, Victor Yanukovych, who became the laureate of Alexiy II’s Award “For outstanding activity for strengthening the unity of Orthodox Church nations.” The person who put forward the claim for that award was the head of the Ukrainian branch of the “International Fund for the Unity of Orthodox Peoples” - Yekaterina Samoilyk – a prominent activist of the Communist Party of Ukraine - əɧɭɤɨɜɢɱ ɨɬɪɢɦɚɽ 50 ɬɢɫɹɱ ɞɨɥɚɪɿɜ ɜɿɞ Ʉɢɪɢɥɚ, http://www.pravda.com.ua/news/2011/01/20/5811001/. The website of the Fund describes Y. Samoilyk as a “well-known spokeswoman for the strengthening of the Orthodox Church in Ukraine – cf. http://www.ifuocn.com/. 103 T. Carothers, The End Of The Transition…, p. 14.

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Any analysis of a country belonging to the “gray zone,” which aims to diagnose its political system and the possible ways of its evolution, cannot disregard this knowledge and the related principles of social practice. It is a source of great variety within the “gray zone.” This variety can be found throughout the post-Soviet area. To notice this, it is enough to compare the political systems in Ukraine and Russia. It would be hard to admit that in both of these cases the prospects of the system evolving towards real liberal democracy are the same.104 Perhaps this difference in the situation of both countries results from the fact that any move towards a liberal democracy in Russia would mean the necessity to change the whole political system. In contrast, even a radical spurt towards the Western-type democracy in Ukraine would be possible within the system which was shaped after 1991, with particular regard to the consequences of the “Orange Revolution.” Surely, it would be necessary to make essential corrections to the system but not to change the whole of it. Even if we exclude its different axiological “burdens,” the dichotomy of democracy versus non-democracy cannot always be easily applied, despite its simplicity and clarity. It is not so obvious that any application of this dichotomy will produce unambiguous results. Ukraine is a perfect example here. This is due to the fact that reality necessarily and always crosses the boundaries of the formed “artificial categories.”105 This, in turn, means that different theoretical concepts and models should not be absolutized. Therefore, the post-Soviet and post-communist reality requires flexibility in this respect. In the case of Ukraine, we will gain it if we pay attention to the principles that constitute the Ukrainian political system and determine those actions which directly evade the division into democracies and non-democracies. This regards the way access to the public-political sphere should be regulated as well as the historically conditioned model of relationships between civil society and the state in a given case.106 This access is open in the case of a liberal democracy, while a characteristic feature of neo-patrimonial regimes in the post-Soviet area is that the governing elites appropriated the public-political sphere. This,

104

For more information about the differences between Russia and Ukraine, cf. Ʌɢɥɢɹ ɒɟɜɰɨɜɚ, Ɉɞɢɧɨɤɚɹ ɞɟɪɠɚɜɚ. ɉɨɱɟɦɭ Ɋɨɫɫɢɹ ɧɟ ɫɬɚɥɚ Ɂɚɩɚɞɨɦ ɢ ɩɨɱɟɦɭ Ɋɨɫɫɢɢ ɬɪɭɞɧɨ ɫ Ɂɚɩɚɞɨɦ, Ɇɨɫɤɜɚ 2010, pp. 116-121; Y. M. Brudny, E. Finkel, Why Ukraine Is Not Russia. Hegemonic National Identity and Democracy in Russia and Ukraine, in: “East European Politics & Societies,” November 2011, Vol. 25, No. 4, pp. 813-833. 105 J. Holzer, S. Balík, Postkomunistyczne reĪimy…, p. 92. 106 Ɉ. Ɏɢɫɭɧ, Ʉ ɩɟɪɟɨɫɦɵɫɥɟɧɢɸ…, p. 159.

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in turn, significantly impacted upon the relationships between the society and state. Henry Hale pointed to the fact that the system whose functioning is based on neo-patrimonial principles must be opened from time to time only to be later closed off. “Color revolutions” would be the moments for a dynamic opening. According to Hale, this could be the starting point for real democratization, but on condition that the resulting crisis leads to a change in the regime by weakening the position of the President and strengthening Parliament.107 This is what really happened in Ukraine after the Orange Revolution as a result of the so-called “constitutional reform” which had been voted down under the outgoing President Kuchma. On the basis of this, Hale concluded that it had been the case of a “true democratic breakthrough.”108 Was that so? The above-mentioned “reform” should be treated more like an element of a “new deal” inside the elites, which was once again hidden behind the façade of democratic institutions. Throughout that time, there were attempts to question the legitimacy of the changes introduced to the constitution. Finally, the changes were withdrawn.109 Therefore, we should not attach too much importance to changes at the formal level. Obviously, we do not mean to say here that they are meaningless. If this were the case, these would not have caused such fierce and real conflicts between the major actors of the system.110 However, in order to properly evaluate the consequences for the whole system of the crisis resulting from the presidential election, we cannot analyze it solely from the point of view of the elites engaged in the neopatrimonial regimes; neither can we analyze them solely from the point of view of the regime of governance. We have to bear in mind, then, that they themselves do not fill up the whole system, which is also formed by society. It was its rapid empowerment within the whole system that made those events revolutionary in character. 107

Henry E. Hale, Democracy or Autocracy on the March? The Colored Revolutions as Normal Dynamics of Patronal Presidentialism, “Communist and Post-Communist Studies,” No. 39 (2006), p. 306. 108 Henry E. Hale, Democracy or Autocracy…, p. 311. 109 ɋɤɚɫɭɜɚɧɧɹ ɩɨɥɿɬɪɟɮɨɪɦɢ: ɳɨ ɫɚɦɟ ɡɦɿɧɸɽɬɶɫɹ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ, http://www.unian.ua/news/398733-skasuvannya-politreformi-scho-samezminyuetsya-v-ukrajini.html . 110 It is sufficient to study the long battle for introducing changes to the constitution, which L. Kuchma had to fight before he managed, during the hectic period of the “Orange Revolution,” to push through the constitutional reform – for more information, cf. Constitutional Reform in Ukraine: Progress and Prospects, in: “National Security & Defence,” No. 1 (85), 2007, pp. 8-18.

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Taking into account the alienation of neo-patrimonial elites and societies, the processes taking place inside these two basic actors of the system should be treated in an autonomous way. At the level of the elites and the regime of exerting power, the events which happened in Ukraine at the end of 2004 and the resulting consequences fit quite well into the model of the “neo-patrimonial revolution.” However, when it comes to society, the situation no longer seems that unambiguous. It is here that we should seek the symptoms of a “democratic breakthrough.” From this perspective, one must conclude that the “Orange Revolution” cemented pluralism as a whole into the system. It is based on regional, mental and cultural diversity and was reflected in the systemic division into the “Blues” and the “Oranges.” Due to this, social pluralism has, at least potentially, a chance to translate itself into pluralism in the political sphere. Now it is no longer possible to reduce the revolution to mere inner fighting within the neo-patrimonial “pact of elites.” As a short reminder, let me mention that such was the faulty form of pluralism: its nonproductivity was one of the main reasons which placed Ukraine in the “gray zone.” The question of the place and the functions of the Orthodox Church in this process of “healing” pluralism in Ukraine is, at the same time, a question about the place of the Orthodox and the Greek-Catholic Churches in the political system as a whole. Therefore, if we wanted to analyze the “Orange Revolution” at the elites’ level, we could, indeed, accept it as an example of partly natural consequences, already experienced by Third World countries, of the dynamics of the political process in the neo-patrimonial system.111 If, however, we look at the same problem at society’s level, it is impossible not to notice analogies with the events in Central Eastern Europe, which at the turn of the 1980s and 1990s marked the end of the communist era. Metaphorically, we could say that during the crisis which broke out in Ukraine in connection with the presidential election of 2004, the “neopatrimonial pact of the elites” collided with the “democratic social contract.” While the Ukrainian elites functioned according to the neopatrimonial principles of the “gray zone,” society, at least its vast majority, 111

This could be confirmed by the fact that during the election campaign of 2006 the Party of Regions turned for support, on the initiative of Renat Akhmetov, to American consultants, with Paul Manafort among them. For many years he supported the campaigns of the Republicans in the USA, but he gained real fame as a consultant precisely in Third World countries – Kenya, Somalia, Nigeria, Congo, Angola and the Philippines – cf. Ɇɭɫɬɚɮɚ ɇɚɣɽɦ, Ⱥɦɟɪɢɤɚɧɫɶɤɿ ɬɟɯɧɨɥɨɝɢ ɧɚ ɫɥɭɠɛɿ ɭ əɧɭɤɨɜɢɱɚ, http://www.pravda.com.ua/articles/2007/03/19/3218341/.

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opposed this by appealing to democratic values of Western-European origin. This fact ought to induce us to verify those opinions in which the neo-patrimonial system in Ukraine allegedly enjoyed a sort of social acceptance.112 The factor which significantly determined the process and the results of the “Orange Revolution” was the aforementioned “unarticulated knowledge.” It absorbed from Eastern Europe, in as natural a way as possible, various cultural models. Obviously, as a result of the logic of the transformations, these models are now restored in an imperfect form and through neo-traditionalization. Nevertheless, this sole reason is enough to recognize the need to exercise extreme caution in formulating oversimplifying analogies between the “Orange Revolution” and cases of crises in Third World countries.

112

H. van Zon, Political Culture and…, p. 19.

CHAPTER THREE FACTORS DETERMINING INARTICULATE KNOWLEDGE

One of the fundamental errors which Thomas Carothers pointed out to the adherents of the “Third Wave of Democracy” was their irreverent attitude towards the local determinants and the cultural, historical and social realities in which the processes of transformation proceeded. These factors determined to a greater extent the content of “inarticulate knowledge” and the rules resulting from it “existing in social practice.” In addition, the real outcomes of transformation depended on these factors to a considerable degree. For instance, Carothers emphasized the significance of the “past experience with political pluralism” on the consequences of the transformation process in a given society.1 Taking Ukraine as an example, we can name a number of other factors which formed “inarticulate knowledge,” and this is how they have an essential influence on the course and outcomes of the transformation of the political system. These include: the traditions of one’s own statehood, the connections with the West-European cultural circle, the consequences of Sovietization, the type of post-communism and post-colonial legacy. Undoubtedly, possession or lack of one’s own country perceived as an institutionalized form of action for a body of citizens are of significant importance at the outset of transition. As aptly pointed out by Sarah Whitmore, it is not democracy that is a preliminary condition for establishing an effective country, it is just the opposite – an effective country is a necessary condition for the functioning of democracy.2 The criteria for effectiveness in this case include not solely the performance of state authorities. In terms of democratization, the success of systemic reforms depends on whether the performance is appropriately channeled, namely whether it is utilized to “enforce effectively the rule of law” and 1

T. Carothers, The End Of The Transition…, p. 16. Sarah Whitmore, State and Institution Building under Kuchma, in: “Problems of Post-Communism,” Vol. 52, No. 5, September/October 2005, p. 4. 2

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whether it hardens state structures against pressures of various interest groups.3 The neopatrimonial nature of the political system in Ukraine and its connection with this type of bureaucracy would certainly be difficult to regard as factors favorable to democratization in this country. The effectiveness of implementing rules and democratic institutions to the system can be described on the basis of the analysis of changes in social practice. In our opinion, it is dependent on whether democratic standards will influence the shape of “inarticulate knowledge”, and how they might do so. With respect to this, the significance of an appropriate sequence of events in this context is worth mentioning. The success of the democratization process depends largely on whether the community’s borders, which it refers to, are concretely determined or whether there was an appropriate transformation of a country focused on the community’s interests. Such an order of transitions facilitates democratic rules and institutions to modify consciousness and social practice. In Ukraine we have to deal with “inverse logic of development,” meaning democratic institutions have started to be introduced here before fundamental issues concerning state-building, defining the political community and attitude towards the former mother country were solved.4 As a result, these institutions, instead of changing social practice, undergo changes under its influence as well. In fact, in the case of every instance of post-communist transformation, except for the former GDR, we can say that it had an inverse nature. That is, in Ukraine as well as in Poland or Hungary, the methods of the organizing and functioning of the state did not correspond to democratic rules declared at the time of the collapse of communism. However, in the case of Ukraine, as was already mentioned, agreements pertaining to democratization were not the subject of consensus and its essence in an obvious way. The performance of the Ukrainian State is significantly focused on effectively securing “rent seeking” for informal, alienated from the general public nomenklatura and oligarchic clans. It is the product of “a purposeful choice of self-interested and insecure elites”5. And with that, even if we 3

G. Ekiert, J. Kubik and M. A. Vachudova, Democracy in the Post-Communist World: An Unending Quest? in: “East European Politics and Societies,” 2007, Vol. 21, No. 1, p. 15. 4 Ɉ. Ɏɿɫɭɧ, ɇɟɨɩɚɬɪɢɦɨɧɿɚɥɿɡɦ ɩɪɨɬɢ ɞɟɦɨɤɪɚɬɿʀ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ, http://www.viche.info/journal/1094/; cf., in greater detail: T. Kuzio, Transition in Post-Communist States: Triple or Quadruple? in: “Politics,” Vol. 21 (3), pp. 168177. 5 S. Kudelia, The Sources of Continuity…, p. 418.

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can talk about consolidation of Ukrainian statehood, its influence on the evolution of “inarticulate knowledge,” especially when it comes to instilling positive convictions as to the advantages of democratic systems, is at best dubious.

Relationships with the West Civilizational and historical relationships with Western European heritage are among the factors which exert considerable influence on the direction of the transformation of the political system in Ukraine. For our purposes, this extremely complex issue will be intentionally simplified. We will limit ourselves to the way in which the heritage of the European “West” was characterized by Czech theologian Fr. Tomáš Halík in his lecture delivered in Moscow in 2000.6 Taking into consideration the venue of the lecture, it could be treated as an attempt to outline a positive paradigm of thinking about the specific nature of Western culture. Naturally, according to Halík, it is of a religious origin. The concept of liberalism, which was of key importance in understanding the “West” in post-Soviet space, was defined by the Czech theologian as “thinking which accepts the fundamental value of the dignity and autonomy of an individual, freedom of conscience and religion, freedom of investment and market economy, of civil society as well as human and civil rights.”7 He also emphasized that although these values were propagated thanks to Enlightenment trends, “the closeness of Catholic thought and ideals of freedom which we usually find on the banners of secular humanism (…) have deep historical roots.”8 The mechanism thanks to which the history of the Church interwove with the development of the European community was called by Halík “the jumping of the spark.”9 He pointed out three key events in Church history which influenced the development of the Western European political culture. The first one is “the defense of the independence of papacy in relation to the imperial power” which led to the division between the secular and religious powers. This started the process of the institutionalization of freedom and became a trigger for the processes which propelled modernization, i.e., “differentiation, separation and 6

Tomáš Halík, ChrzeĞcijaĔstwo a wolnoĞü – doĞwiadczenie europejskiego Zachodu , in: T. Halík, Wzywany czy niewzywany Bóg siĊ tutaj zjawi, Kraków: Wydawnictwo WAM, 2006, pp. 261-277. 7 T. Halík, ChrzeĞcijaĔstwo a wolnoĞü..., p. 265. 8 T. Halík, ChrzeĞcijaĔstwo a wolnoĞü..., pp. 265-266. 9 T. Halík, ChrzeĞcijaĔstwo a wolnoĞü..., p. 266.

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emancipation of particular social functions.” Later, the separation of the “throne” and the “altar” enabled the development of “pluralistic society” and “de facto” was one of the factors which started the process of secularization in Europe.10 Meanwhile, in Halík’s view, “the sanctimonious attitude toward the imperial power” and the related “caesaropapism” were in force in the Christian East, as opposed to the West.11 From the context, one can infer that this is one of the crucial reasons for the fact that in the East, there was no phenomenon analogous to “Western political culture and economic freedom.”12 Obviously, this does not mean that the idea of freedom was unknown beyond the Western world. What matters is the characteristic Western European way of understanding it. In fact, this was the root of the fundamental premises of liberal democracy. Strictly speaking, a distinction has to be made between the original model of the relationship between the state and the Church, introduced in Byzantium, and its later imitation practiced under the conditions of Russian autocracy. Both cases concern “caesaropapism.” However, there is an important difference between them. In the Byzantine prototype, the Church and the state were supposed to maintain a perfect status quo. Although this premise was never achieved in practice, the fundamental principle of independence and self-sufficiency of both institutions ensured their mutual autonomy.13 10

T. Halík, ChrzeĞcijaĔstwo a wolnoĞü..., p. 268. T. Halík, ChrzeĞcijaĔstwo a wolnoĞü..., p. 268. 12 T. Halík, ChrzeĞcijaĔstwo a wolnoĞü..., p. 367. 13 Marek àawreszuk, Prawosáawie wobec tendencji nacjonalistycznych i etnofiletystycznych. Studium teologiczno-kanoniczne, Warszawa: Semper, 2009, pp. 45-48. For more information see Alexander Schmemann, Byzantine Theocracy and the Orthodox Church in: “St.Vladimir’s Theological Quarterly” 1:2 (1953), John Meyendorff, Byzantine Theology: Historical Trends and Doctrinal Themes, New York: Fordham University Press, 1979; Kazimierz Zakrzewski, Bizancjum w Ğredniowieczu, Kraków: Universitas, 1995. The formula of the “symphony” of power underwent a significant evolution in the pre-Revolutionary Russian Empire. According to Tatyana Yevseyeva, it was based on a synthesis of two opposing principles: theocracy and territorialism (Ɍ. ȯɜɫɟɽɜɚ, Ɋɨɫɿɣɫɶɤɚ ɩɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɚ ɰɟɪɤɜɚ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ 1917-1921: ɤɨɧɮɥɿɤɬ ɧɚɰɿɨɧɚɥɶɧɢɯ ɿɞɟɧɬɢɱɧɨɫɬɟɣ ɭ ɩɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɨɦɭ ɩɨɥɿ, Ʉɢʀɜ: ȱɧ-ɬ ɿɫɬɨɪɿʀ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ɇȺɇ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ 2005, p. 88). As a result, the state was treated here as an emanation of the Absolute and the aim of the sovereign power held in it was, inter alia, to care for everyone’s well-being in a broad sense of the word. This led to combining political theories with religious practice. In such a structure, “the state assumed responsibility for purely religious duties and functions,” while the Orthodox Church as an institution was given a 11

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Therefore, while analyzing the perspectives and possible directions of evolution of the systems which constituted the post-Soviet part of the aforementioned “gray zone,” one should take into account the previous experiences of a given community in relation to the Western model of freedom. The next step should be an attempt to examine the way in which these experiences turned into the content of this community’s “inarticulate knowledge.” If we look from this angle at the history of Ukraine, some analogies are truly striking – at least when it comes to the issue of the relationships between the secular and religious powers. In this respect, the Orthodox Church of the Kyiv Patriarchate, characteristic of Ukrainian tradition, completely breaks away from the model of caesaropapism ascribed to Eastern Christianity. The model of the relationship between the Orthodox Church and secular power which developed in the Kyiv-Mohyla circles was in perfect harmony with the characteristically Western principle of the division of the “throne” and the “altar.” Obviously, there is no room here for an in-depth analysis of the reasons for such a situation. Therefore, we will only point out two issues which seem to have been of the greatest significance. The first one is the fact that the Orthodox Church of the Kyiv Patriarchate – especially since the Union of Lublin – functioned in a state governed by a Catholic ruler. Second, the Kiev Orthodox Church was genetically open to Western influences and ready for synthesizing them with its own tradition. What perfectly illustrates the way of understanding the right model of the relationship between the state and the Church, developed by the Orthodox Kiev elites, are the words of Zachariy Kopystensky, who writes in his work Palinodia: “if the search for the Church and the truth of the Gospel begins from the emperors, kings, princes and magnates of this world, it

place within the structure of the state only “within the range of duties of a politicaltechnical character,” i.e., it could function only as long as its actions were beneficial for the state (p. 90). Characterizing this type of relationship between the secular and clerical power, T. Yevseyeva referred to the phrase used by the minister of religion in the Provisional Government A. Kartashev – “subjective theocracy.” It described the situation in the Russian Empire where the authorities lost their initial “canonical dualism,” characteristic of the Byzantine “symphony” formula, thanks to which the secular and clerical authorities maintained their own separate subjectivity, although they were interdependent. According to Yevseyeva, good examples are articles No. 42 and 43 of the Fundamental State Laws of the Russian Empire, according to which the Emperor had to perform the role of the superior defender of dogmas, protect the Orthodox faith and was called “the head of the Orthodox Church” (p. 92).

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will never be found. Christ has to be sought in a poor cave, not in the palaces of emperors or kings.”14 Thus, the king of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth was eventually “included in the sphere of eusebeia” and thanks to this “he could take the place of Eastern Orthodox emperors.”15 His name was mentioned as God’s anointed in the Kiev Orthodox metropolis (and also in the Uniate Orthodox Church) during masses. At the same time, the Kiev hierarchs were far from displaying a “sanctimonious” attitude towards the secular power. In fact, this attitude was thoroughly pragmatic. The arrangement was mutually binding – loyalty to the ruler in exchange for the guarantees of rights and freedom. This was possible thanks to the autonomy and division of the state and institutions of the Orthodox Church. It should be emphasized that “the Orthodox-religious ideology developed in Ukrainian territory” was different especially from “the later-developed (and exerting no influence on Kyiv until the end of the 17th century) Orthodox ideology and theological school in Moscow, purporting to be the direct inheritor and continuator of ceasaropapism (which never caught on in Ukrainian territory) that belonged to the Crown and the Grand Duchy of Lithuania and later to the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth.”16 The second key event in the history of the Western Church which significantly influenced the evolution of West European political culture was “the emancipation of the laity in the Church.”17 T. Halík called this phenomenon a “democratizing movement” and first of all connected it with Protestantism. He stressed that over time, “the pursuit of the new, non-hierarchical organization of the Church” went “beyond the framework of the institutional Church structures,” and gained “general social and political significance.”18 It ought to be noted that at the same time, when this specific democratization process in the Western Church was taking place, a similar phenomenon could also be observed in the Orthodox Church on Ukrainian territory. These were the Orthodox Brotherhood Movements. To a large extent, they contributed to internal reforms in the Orthodox Church. The activities of these brotherhoods were, inter alia, a

14

Aleksander Naumow, Domus divisa. Studia nad literaturą ruską I Rzeczypospolitej, Kraków: Collegium Columbinum, 2002, p. 73. 15 A. Naumow, Domus divisa…, p. 71. 16 Wáodzimierz Mokry, Unia w procesie syntezy kultury bizantyĔsko-ukraiĔskiej i áaciĔsko-polskiej, in: „Krakowskie Zeszyty Ukrainoznawcze”, Vol. V/VI (199697), p. 70. 17 T. Halík, ChrzeĞcijaĔstwo a wolnoĞü..., p. 269. 18 T. Halík, ChrzeĞcijaĔstwo a wolnoĞü..., p. 270.

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result of the way in which slogans and ideas of the Reformation and Counter-Reformation were received on Orthodox territory.19 Among the phenomena of an intra-religious nature which eventually influenced the direction of the evolution of secular political culture in Western Europe, Tomáš Halík mentions “the beginnings of the theology of human rights.”20 He points out that the commonly Enlightenment-related ideas of tolerance and human rights also had their earlier – Christian – roots. This is because they were shaped in the heat of religious wars and, in the Czech theologian’s view, it is especially the Jesuit representatives of the so-called “new scholasticism” primarily from the law-and-theology school of Salamanca that deserve to be called precursors of the aforesaid ideas.21 Once more the analogy with the history of Ukraine is strikingly obvious. On the Ukrainian lands which were part of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, conflicts between Catholics, members of the Orthodox Church and supporters of the Union of Brest from 1596 were the equivalent of Western European religious wars. The main difference consisted in the weapons used to settle these conflicts. In Western Europe, this was done with fire and sword, while in Ukrainian lands the fights were conducted primarily using words. The disputes between Catholics and members of the Orthodox Church as well as between members of the Orthodox Church and Unionists resulted in rich polemic literature in which, apart from purely theological elements, one can also find ideas of the freedom of religion and tolerance and superiority of the law over the ruler’s will.22 An important center of polemic activity was Kyiv-Mohyla College – the first educational academic institution in Eastern Slavdom. It was established in 1632, in the environment associated with Peter Mohyla, the Orthodox Metropolitan of Kiev. It became a hotbed of Ukrainian intellectual elites – both clergy and laity. From our viewpoint, the most significant fact is that the Kyiv-Mohyla Academy was an extremely important medium thanks to which the trends and ideas which changed the face of Western European civilization were synthesized with the native Eastern Christian traditions of the Ukrainian lands and were implemented 19

More on brotherhood movements: Antoni Mironowicz, Bractwa cerkiewne w Rzeczypospolitej, Biaáystok: The Orthodox Brotherhood of Sts. Cyril and Methodius in Poland, 2003. 20 T. Halík, ChrzeĞcijaĔstwo a wolnoĞü..., p. 271. 21 T. Halík, ChrzeĞcijaĔstwo a wolnoĞü..., p. 271. 22 More on this topic – Jan Stradomski, Spory o „wiarĊ grecką” w dawnej Rzeczypospolitej, Kraków: Scriptum, 2003.

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in that same territory.23 As a rule, college lecturers were graduates of Western universities. The models borrowed from those places – including the intellectual legacy of the aforementioned center in Salamanca – shaped the identity of the Academy.24 All this, in connection with the political culture of the nobility of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, allowed Ukrainian elites to participate in the “mainstream” civilizational processes in Europe, especially when it came to the development of the concept of human rights. For us, the most important issue is to what extent the rich experiences resulting from the interaction between Eastern Christianity in Ukraine with Western European culture reflect today’s condition of “inarticulate knowledge” in Ukrainian society. Of course, it would be naïve to expect that the activities of the Brotherhood Movements or the heritage of KyivMohyla circles – i.e., elements and figures from the period between the second half of the 16th century to the beginning of the 18th century – may have shaped this knowledge in any direct way. This is particularly so because the cultural, spiritual and material legacy after this period was, for the next 300 years, being systematically destroyed. It was to be replaced by Moscow’s model of Orthodox culture. This was an important element of the politics of Russification systematically carried out by the tsar’s authorities since the time of Peter I. From our point of view, the diametrical change in the function which the Orthodox Church had on the social and cultural life of Ukraine’s lands is essentially related to this. The “Iron Curtain” was a key element and mediator in the process of joining Western European cultural elements, since it was to isolate these lands from Europe. A separate issue was the fact that, in an organized way, such people as the very graduates of the Kyiv-Mohyla Academy contributed to destroying Kiev’s specific heritage, such as Teofan Prokopovych. In reality, the Orthodox Church formally kept up its institutions on Ukrainian lands. However, Yuriy Fedoriv stated that beginning in 1783, the Kiev metropolis lost its “Ukrainian” character.25 Over the next decades, as Wáodzimierz Mokry accurately noted, “every appearance of being different displayed by the Ukrainian Orthodox Church subordinated

23

More on this topic: W. Mokry, Akademia Kijowsko-MohylaĔska szkoáą baroku ukraiĔskiego i nowoĪytnej literatury rosyjskiej, in: „Krakowskie Zeszyty Ukrainoznawcze”, Vol. I-II, 1992-1993, Krakow 1993, pp. 17-39. 24 More on this topic: Ɋɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɨ-ɮɿɥɨɫɨɮɫɶɤɚ ɞɭɦɤɚ ɜ Ʉɢɽɜɨ-ɦɨɝɢɥɹɧɫɶɤɿɣ ɚɤɚɞɟɦɿʀ: ɽɜɪɨɩɟɣɫɶɤɢɣ ɤɨɧɬɟɤɫɬ, ȼ. ɋ. Ƚɨɪɫɶɤɢɣ (ed.), Ʉɢʀɜ: ȼɢɞɚɜɧɢɱɢɣ Ⱦɿɦ «ɄɆ Ⱥɤɚɞɟɦɿɹ», 2002. 25 ɘɪɿɣ Ɏɟɞɨɪɿɜ, ȱɫɬɨɪɿɹ ɐɟɪɤɜɢ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ, Ʌɶɜɿɜ: ɋɜɿɱɚɞɨ 2001, p. 273.

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to Moscow was interpreted as Ukraine striving to free itself from Russia.”26 Taking this into account, the modern renaissance of Kiev’s Orthodox heritage is worth noting, even if it only takes place on the symbolic level and on neo-traditional principles. It is enough to mention the idea of the Kyiv Patriarchate, which became the main reason for contemporary divisions within the Orthodox Church in Ukraine. At about the same time, a new institution of higher education was set up in Kiev which by its very name – the National University of “Kyiv-Mohyla Academy” – directly refers to its great predecessor. Doubtless, the revival of the idea of the Kyiv Patriarchate and the Academy is closely linked with the building of Ukrainian independence. Strictly speaking, these symbols were to help specify this concept. The process and results of the social and political transformation in Ukraine depended on the kind of rules and standards it would follow. The promotion of symbolism connected with the Orthodox Church of the Kyiv Patriarchate at the dawn of the contemporary Ukrainian state allowed us to believe that the attitude of openness to models and influences from the West would be implemented in social practice. However, is the hypothesis of a mutual relationship between the renaissance of the Kyiv-Mohylan symbolism and the readiness and ability to adapt to the canons of Western European political culture really justified? In the case of the aforesaid university, it is relatively easy to answer this question in the affirmative.27 Indeed, one can find convincing support in a peculiar argument a contrario: doubtless, it is no accident that the contemporary successor of the Kyiv-Mohylan academic tradition has its enemies in Ukraine in groups that openly declare their hostile attitude towards the West and sympathize with neo-imperial Euroasianist ideas.28 Certainly, the Orthodox Church should play an enormous role in cultivating the Mohylan tradition as a link between Ukraine and Western European culture. In fact, symbols connected with this tradition are 26

Wáodzimierz Mokry, Stosunek paĔstwowych i cerkiewnych wáadz moskiewskich do ukraiĔskiej Cerkwi prawosáawnej i unickiej w wiekach XVII-XX, in: Unia brzeska. Geneza, dzieje i konsekwencje w kulturze narodów sáowiaĔskich, edited by R. àuĪny, Fr. Ziejka and A. KĊpiĔski, Kraków: Universitas 1994, p. 88. 27 In particular, this university – just like the Kiev college centuries ago – is to ensure Ukraine a permanent place on an equal basis in the “dialogue of national cultures in Europe,” and to “strengthen the Europeanness” of Ukrainian culture – Ɋeɥɿɝɿɣɧɨ-ɮɿɥɨɫɨɜɫɶɤɚ ɞɭɦɤɚ..., p 5. 28 Cf. for instance: ȼɿɬɚɥɿɣ ɑɟɪɜɨɧɟɧɤɨ, Ɍɚɛɚɱɧɢɤ ɞɨɛɢɜɚɽ Ɇɨɝɢɥɹɧɤɭ, http://glavcom.ua/articles/4203.html, accessed 8.02.2013.

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eagerly used in both of the most important communities – the one independent from the Moscow Patriarchate and the one remaining under its authority. Representatives of both factions of the Orthodox Church use these symbols when they voice their opinions on issues of social life.29 What they say then is often of a self-defining character and their purpose is to influence the evolutionary process of the principles of social practice in Ukraine. Nevertheless, is it really the case that every reference to some fragment of the Mohylan tradition could be interpreted as a genuine and fully conscious manifestation of openness to models and standards which, in Tomáš Halík’s words, form “the Western culture of political and economic freedom”? The answer to this question is not unambiguous and requires an in-depth analysis.

The Communist Heritage Although over twenty years have passed since the beginning of the transformation of the political system in Ukraine, the legacy of communism still exerts an overwhelming influence on the way it functions and on the possible directions of its development. That is why, when describing Ukrainian reality, the term “post-communism” does not lose anything of its currency. It means “an all-encompassing definition of a given area which differs from the others in terms of its historical experience of communism as a systemic phenomenon.”30 This experience lasted long enough and, to put it mildly, was intensive enough for communism to cease being only an ideology and start being treated as a specific type of “peculiar mentality.”31 It is no exaggeration to consider Soviet communism as the “ultimate (…) totalitarian regime.” The party29

The head of the UOC MP Metropolitan Volodymyr (Sabodan) in his speech in Moscow in 2008 highlighted the significance of the Orthodox Church in building “socio-cultural space where the antagonism between the Eastern and Western elements will be creatively transformed into a synthetic whole” on the basis of Orthodox tradition symbolized by Peter Mohyla. – ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɟ ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜ’ɹ ɧɚ ɪɭɛɟɠɿ ɟɩɨɯ. ȼɢɤɥɢɤɢ ɫɭɱɚɫɧɨɫɬɿ, ɬɟɧɞɟɧɰɿʀ ɪɨɡɜɢɬɤɭ, http://orthodox.org.ua/http%3A/%252Forthodox.org.ua/uk/node/3165; in contrast, the UOC KP tries to build its esteem with the help of the Kyiv-Mohylan tradition, for example, by canonizing people from this period – see e.g.: Ⱦɿɹɧɧɹ oɫɜɹɱɟɧɨɝɨ ɩɨɦɿɫɧɨɝɨ ɫɨɛɨɪɭ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨʀ ɩɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɨʀ ɰɟɪɤɜɢ Ʉɢʀɜɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɩɚɬɪɿɚɪɯɚɬɭ «ɉɪɨ ɤɚɧɨɧɿɡɚɰɿɸ ɫɜɹɬɢɬɟɥɹ ȱɨɜɚ Ȼɨɪɟɰɶɤɨɝɨ, ɦɢɬɪɨɩɨɥɢɬɚ ɤɢʀɜɫɶɤɨɝɨ, ɝɚɥɢɰɶɤɨɝɨ ɿ ɜɫɿɽʀ Ɋɭɫɢ (+1631 ɪ.)», http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/resourses/church_doc/uockp_doc/34663/. 30 J. Holzer, S. Balík, Postkomunistyczne reĪimy…, p. 21. 31 J. Holzer, S. Balík, Postkomunistyczne reĪimy…, p. 137.

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state holding power “took root (…) in all the spheres of social, economic and private life of the country and its citizens.”32 As Ernst Gellner states, communism, in a way that was absolutely remarkable and perhaps unique in the history of social systems, embodied a minutely designed, total, allpervasive and deeply Messianic theory.33 As a result, this system very seriously interfered with the mechanisms of forming social practice. It destroyed not only the principles of this practice, but also the sources of these principles, such as historical memory or religious tradition. It eliminated key social classes which created this practice – in the case of Ukraine it was not only the intelligentsia but also the peasantry and the clergy. Ideological indoctrination and related atheization very seriously damaged the foundations of the functioning of traditional religion in society. At the same time, they strengthened the need for an axiomatic and dogmatic method of constructing knowledge about “how it is” and “how it ought to be.” Therefore, the role of communism in shaping “inarticulate knowledge” is clear. J. Holzer and S. Balík point out that in the process of giving shape to the identities of various so-called “post-communist” “socio-political communities,” communism took on different “roles and forms.”34 According to J. Holzer and S. Balík, their diversity depended on two factors: whether a given community emerged before or after “the systemic attack of communism” and also whether in the case of a given community communism was an alien phenomenon or “present earlier.”35 However, with the use of only these two variables, it will be impossible to identify all reasons for a wide spectrum of post-communist varieties. This is because in Ukraine, Belarus or Transcaucasia, the shaping of the political community ended after the “attack” of communism. In all the above-mentioned cases, “a more or less violent import of communist power”36 took place. However, it is still not clear why there are such considerable differences between, for instance, the Ukrainian and Belarusian varieties of post-communism.

32

J. Holzer, S. Balík, Postkomunistyczne reĪimy…, p. 94. Qtd. after: Ɋɨɦɚɧ ɒɩɨɪɥɭɤ, ɉɚɞɿɧɧɹ ɰɚɪɢɫɬɫɶɤɨʀ ɿɦɩɟɪɿʀ ɬɚ ɋɊɋɊ: ɪɨɫɿɣɫɶɤɟ ɩɢɬɚɧɧɹ ɿ ɧɚɞɦɿɪɧɟ ɪɨɡɲɢɪɟɧɧɹ ɿɦɩɟɪɿʀ, in: „Ⱦɭɯ ɿ ɥɿɬɟɪɚ”, Nos. 1-2, 1997, p. 115. 34 J. Holzer, S. Balík, Postkomunistyczne reĪimy…, p. 21. 35 J. Holzer, S. Balík, Postkomunistyczne reĪimy…, p. 19. 36 J. Holzer, S. Balík, Postkomunistyczne reĪimy…, pp. 19-20. Strictly speaking, however, it would be more appropriate to replace the word “import” with the term “expansion.” 33

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In order to gain a better understanding of the specificity of each of them, one has to take into account the wide cultural context of the changes which took place “after communism.” As J. Staniszkis claims, their shape and development depend on “the premises of the form of existence.”37 On this basis, two types of post-communism can be distinguished; Russian and Central European. The former seems to grow out of the Orthodox culture, which J. Staniszkis calls “Orthodox” and which is “the culture of antinomy.” Its essence is the fact that “the meaning of a given element (institution) is mediated by its opposite (…) and by the formula for interpreting this antinomical whole.”38 Central European post-communism, for that matter, was shaped on the basis of a culture which was originally deeply rooted in bivalent logic and “the concept of identity is closely intertwined with the category of difference.”39 Consequently, the characteristic Central European cultural diversity would result from the fact that, in principle, here, within one country or region, identities, geopolitical and civilizational orientations always differed, but also never generally ruled each other out. From the viewpoint of our discussion, answering the following question is very interesting: which type of post-communism are we dealing with in Ukraine: the Russian (“Orthodox” as J. Staniszkis defines it), or Central European – known, for example, from Polish reality? This issue is of paramount importance for the understanding of mechanisms according to which the Ukrainian state and political systems function. We will attempt to deal with it by using the concept of “the mechanism of three beginnings,” proposed by J. Staniszkis. It assumes a close link “between the first split within communist elites which then leaves a trace on the fledgling pluralization of society (either the ‘audience’ or the executive apparatus of power), connected with involving chosen categories of people in the orbit of conflicts ‘on the top,’ and the last division among elites, already in the twilight of communism.”40 For the Russian version of post-communism, this “founding” dispute was the problem of “the formula for interpreting the antinomical ‘whole’: communism – capitalism.”41 The controversial issue was whether the only kind of interaction between these systems is conflict and fight or whether “interdependence” and mutual “complementarity” are possible and advisable. Against the background of this dispute there was the division 37

J. Staniszkis, Postkomunizm…, p. 228. J. Staniszkis, Postkomunizm…, p. 229. 39 J. Staniszkis, Postkomunizm…, p. 228. 40 J. Staniszkis, Postkomunizm…, p. 231. 41 J. Staniszkis, Postkomunizm…, p. 232. 38

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among the Bolshevik elites of Russia represented by the figures of Lenin, Stalin, Trotsky and Bukharin. It was also one of the last disputes nearing the fall of the USSR when the old controversy was updated during the discussions over Gorbachev’s idea of “the common European home.”42 In the Central European model of post-communism, the determining “first dispute” which “returned” at the end of the 1980s concerned “the relationship: the country – the people of Moscow.”43 An analysis of the initial period of the Soviet rule in Ukraine leads to the conclusion that Bolsheviks did not have here – at least as far as Ukrainian people are concerned – practically any resource base. Their ideology and activities focused primarily on the industrial urban proletariat. At the beginning of the 20th century, so at the brink of the Revolution, 93% of Ukrainians in the Russian Empire were peasants.44 The ethnic make-up of the Bolshevik organizational structure in Ukraine is very significant. Out of 4,364 Bolsheviks who in July 1918 were active on Ukrainian territory, only 130 called themselves “Ukrainians.”45 Also, during that time, for 15 members of the CC CPU (the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Ukraine), there were only 2 Ukrainians, and in December of that year there were 3.46 In 1992, Ukrainians comprised merely 23.3% of CPU members.47 Naturally, the shortage of people of Ukrainian origin affected not only the party itself but also organs of the Soviet national authorities. In the first Soviet “government,” which was established in December 1917, among 24 people’s secretaries and their assistants, there were only 6 Ukrainians. In March 1919, there were only 5 Ukrainians among 17 people’s commissars in the “government” of the Soviet Ukraine. These facts provide quite a reliable picture of the reasons why Ukrainian people treated Bolsheviks as an outside force,48 as “the people of Moscow.” In Ukraine, there was no shortage of political forces which were in favor of radically changing the existing social order. However, their 42

J. Staniszkis, Postkomunizm…, p. 232. J. Staniszkis, Postkomunizm…, p. 232. 44 Jarosáaw Hrycak, Historia Ukrainy. 1772-1999, Lublin: Instytut Europy ĝrodkowo-Wschodniej, 2000, p. 79. 45 For comparison, Orest Subtelny estimates the number of the members of the Ukrainian Socialist-Revolutionary Party at 300,000. – Ɉɪɟɫɬ ɋɭɛɬɟɥɶɧɢɣ, ɍɤɪɚʀɧɚ. ȱɫɬɨɪɿɹ, Ʉɢʀɜ: Ʌɢɛɿɞɶ, 1992, p. 304. 46 M. Ⱦɨɪɨɲɤɨ, ɇɨɦɟɧɤɥɚɬɭɪɚ: ɤɟɪɿɜɧɚ ɜɟɪɯɿɜɤɚ Ɋɚɞɹɧɫɶɤɨʀ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ (19181938), Ʉɢʀɜ: ɇɿɤɚ-ɐɟɧɬɪ, 2008, p. 64. 47 J. Hrycak, Historia Ukrainy…, p. 173. 48 M. Ⱦɨɪɨɲɤɨ, ɇɨɦɟɧɤɥɚɬɭɪɚ: ɤɟɪɿɜɧɚ ɜɟɪɯɿɜɤɚ..., pp. 67-68. 43

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respective representatives imagined it differently and formulated slightly different objectives. Bolsheviks were supposed to take over the power, rebuild and maintain the existing multinational state. On the other hand, Ukrainian revolutionists, apart from introducing sweeping social changes, aimed to build a new state. Regardless of how close its relations with Russia would be, they were to develop on the principle of equality and partnership. In this situation, the conflict between “the country” and “the people of Moscow” was inevitable. One of its manifestations in Ukraine was the phenomenon of so-called national communism. Representatives of this movement believed that a social revolution in Ukraine could be carried out only by taking into account its cultural and national specificity and distinctness. They were especially against the mechanical transfer to Ukraine of revolutionary solutions used in Russia. In the 1920s, the conflict in the bosom of Soviet elites between “the country” and “the people of Moscow” moved to the sphere of culture and science. The focus of the dispute became the so-called theory of “two cultures” formulated in 1923 by the second secretary of the CP(B)U (the Communist Party of (the Bolsheviks) of Ukraine) Dmytro Lebed. The theory presented Russian culture as revolutionary and progressive, while the Ukrainian one was counter-revolutionary and backward. As we can easily guess, the latter was doomed to failure and as a consequence was supposed to disappear.49 Lebed’s “theory of two cultures” became a challenge issued from “the people of Moscow” to nationally-conscious Ukrainian intelligentsia who were reaching maturity at the time of the Revolution. Thanks to the liberalization of the ethnic policy as part of the so-called “Ukrainization,” people began to labor under the delusion that the fight for the rightful and equal status of Russian and Ukrainian cultures was possible. It very quickly turned out that without the use of mass terror, Bolshevik authorities were not able not only to effectively take over power but even to maintain control over the communist party in Ukraine. Ukrainization deepened the feelings of separation and once again highlighted mental and cultural differences between Ukraine and Russia. Mykola Khvylovy expressed them most clearly in the form of a thesis on the detrimental influence of the Russian culture and the necessity to change orientation towards “psychological Europe.”50 49

J. Hrycak, Historia Ukrainy…, p. 173. Mɢɪɨɫɥɚɜ ɒɤɚɧɞɪɿɣ, Ɇɨɞɟɪɧɿɫɬɢ, ɦɚɪɤɫɢɫɬɢ ɿ ɧɚɰɿɹ. ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɚ ɥɿɬɟɪɚɬɭɪɧɚ ɞɢɫɤɭɫɿɹ 1920-ɯ ɪɨɤɿɜ, Ʉɢʀɜ: ɇɿɤɚ-ɐɟɧɬɪ, 2006, pp. 89-90. 50

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The debate triggered by Khvylovy’s political pamphlets crystallized a new formula for the dispute between “the country” and “the people of Moscow”; Europe versus Moscow. Khvylovy explicitly located Ukrainian culture within the European civilization. Meanwhile, his opponents perceived the supporters of the so-called “Khvylovism” as “Westernized intellectuals who lack faith in their own people.”51 They were resented because they wanted to draw from the cultural heritage of Western Europe and negated its universal value, claiming that Europe is synonymous with “decay and rot.”52 Actually, it seems that the issue of the attitude toward Europe understood as a certain value system became the fundamental element which began to distinguish Ukrainian “national communists” from Bolshevik “people of Moscow.” Although both groups referred to the achievements of Marxism, the conditions for its development in Russia and Ukraine were different. In Russia, it emerged before “issues raised by Russian nationalism had been fully debated.”53 Such a fundamental “undiscussed” problem was the differentiation between Russian and imperial identities. As a result, “Marxism in Russia did not undergo the same process of nationalization which had been its fate everywhere else in Europe.”54 The emergence and strength of “national communism” in Ukraine indicates a significant progress in the process of “nationalizing Marxism” on Ukrainian territory. Therefore, the development of the Marxist left in Ukraine was subject to pan-European regularities. On the other hand, in comparison with these pan-European characteristics, Marxism in Russia was a kind of pathology, or at least an anomaly. Controversies over the differences between Ukrainian and Russian understanding of communism appeared again in the 1960s due to Ivan Dzyuba and his treatise Internationalism or Russification?55 This work can be treated as a symbol of “the second beginning.” Dzyuba decided to 51

M. ɒɤɚɧɞɪɿɣ, Ɇɨɞɟɪɧɿɫɬɢ, ɦɚɪɤɫɢɫɬɢ…, p. 87. M. ɒɤɚɧɞɪɿɣ, Ɇɨɞɟɪɧɿɫɬɢ, ɦɚɪɤɫɢɫɬɢ…, p. 87. In the Ukrainian soviet encyclopedia in the 1960s, it was written that “covering himself under demagogic slogans of supporting the main line of the Communist Party, Khvylovy and his supporters were actually against the party’s policy and aimed to separate Ukraine and its culture from the Soviet Russia” – qtd. after: ȱɜɚɧ Ʌɢɫɹɤ-Ɋɭɞɧɢɰɶɤɢɣ, Ɇɢɯɚɣɥɨ ɏɜɢɥɶɨɜɢɣ, in: ȱɫɬɨɪɢɱɧɿ ɟɫɟ, Ʉɢʀɜ, Ɉɫɧɨɜɢ, 1994, Vol. 2, p. 122. 53 Roman Szporluk, Nationalism after communism: reflections on Russia, Ukraine, Belarus and Poland, in: “Nations and Nationalism” 4 (3) 1998, p. 307. 54 R. Szporluk, Nationalism after…, p. 307. 55 ȱɜɚɧ Ⱦɡɸɛɚ, ȱɧɬɟɪɧɚɰɿɨɧɚɥɿɡɦ ɱɢ ɪɭɫɢɮɿɤɚɰɿɹ?, Ʉɢʀɜ: ȼɢɞɚɜɧɢɱɢɣ Ⱦɿɦ «ɄɆ Ⱥɤɚɞɟɦɿɹ», 2005. 52

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admonish the leaders of the CPU that the victimization of representatives of the Ukrainian intelligentsia from the group of the so-called “szestydesiatnyky” was at variance with the fundamental ideological premises of the party formulated at the very beginning of the Soviet Ukraine – precisely in connection with Ukrainization. Ivan Dzyuba revived the memory of the original conflict between “the country” and “the people of Moscow” and also updated it. It should be underlined that representatives of the dissident movement “were a typical product of the Soviet education system.”56 Despite the fact that the history of Ukrainian national communism was meticulously erased from it, the ideas and questions posed by its leaders in the 1920s returned 40 years later. Although the dissident movement in Ukraine was not numerous, it had a distinct Ukrainian national character.57 Thus, the opposition between “the country” and “the people of Moscow” was its very important element. While searching for the “fledgling pluralization of society,” one cannot forget about the religious underground which was exceptionally welldeveloped in Ukraine in comparison with other USSR republics. This “second circulation” of religious life was, at least in part, beyond the control of Soviet authorities. The Greek Orthodox Church, which was formally liquidated, developed the best-organized and most close-knit structure.58 Underground, there were also communities which were affiliated with various factions of the Orthodox Church. In addition, there were illegal parishes which recognized the authority of the Moscow Patriarchate, but which were denied registration by the state administration. The third, decisive split in the bosom of Soviet Ukrainian elites occurred at the turn of the 1980s and 1990s during Mikhail Gorbachev’s perestroika. It was connected with the renaissance of discussions about problems raised at the very beginning – in the 1920s.59 This time it was colored by Gorbachev’s slogan of “returning to roots,” i.e., to Lenin’s original principles. It imposed a particular way of narrating the history of the USSR. According to it, during the first pioneering years, the 56

Ɉ. ɋɭɛɬɟɥɶɧɢɣ, ɍɤɪɚʀɧɚ…, p. 445. Ɉ. ɋɭɛɬɟɥɶɧɢɣ, ɍɤɪɚʀɧɚ…, p. 445. 58 More on the catacomb period: Borys Gudziak, Switáana Hurkina, Oleh Turij, Hierarchia i duchowieĔstwo ukraiĔskiego KoĞcioáa greckokatolickiego w podziemiu, in: Polska-Ukraina. 1000 lat sąsiedztwa, Stanisáaw StĊpieĔ (ed.), Vol. 4, PrzemyĞl 1998, pp. 311-338, Bohdan Bociurkiw, The Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church and the Soviet State (1939-1950), Edmonton-Toronto: CIUS Press, 1996. 59 Ola Hnatiuk, PoĪegnanie z imperium. UkraiĔskie dyskusje o toĪsamoĞci, Lublin: UMCS, 2003, p. 126. 57

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establishing of socialism was carried out in accordance with Lenin’s principles. Then, Stalin’s repressions compromised them. Ukrainian intellectual elites eagerly reacted to the appeal to return to Lenin’s roots60 as a signpost towards modernization and inner rebuilding of the Soviet Empire.61 This, in turn, inevitably led to the rediscovery of discussions, disputes and dilemmas faced by supporters of the nationalized version of communism in Ukraine in the 1920s. Therefore, as Aleksandra Hnatiuk observes, the next “Ukrainian revolution” at the turn of the 1980s and 1990s was to be realized through “updating the 1920s project, returning to the roots of Soviet identity.”62 It ought to be added that it is the Ukrainian variety of this identity, which centers on the tension between “the country and the people of Moscow.” Of course, the advocates of this “return to the roots” very poorly imagined the real beginnings of the Soviet Ukraine. The truth about it was blurred by years of passing over and keeping back the facts as well as by the myth of a “good Lenin,” which was especially well brought out by the propaganda of the Gorbachev era.63 That is why the “discoverers” of the 1920s moved in that reality as if blindfolded. The fall of communism did not make obsolete the antinomy built on the opposition Russia vs. the West, which was of key importance for Russian identity, but only changed the form in which it manifested itself. In the Soviet period, the place of Russia was taken by the USSR, and the antinomy became ideologized: communism (Marxism-Leninism) vs. capitalism. The end of the Soviet Union meant also the end of the dominance of a communist utopia. Russian identity – this time in a post60

O. Hnatiuk, PoĪegnanie z…, p. 92. O. Hnatiuk, PoĪegnanie z…, p. 92 62 O. Hnatiuk, PoĪegnanie z…, p. 94. 63 Additionally, it has to be admitted that at least some representatives of the Ukrainian elite could not or did not want to shake off this myth. A perfect example is the case of Ivan Dzyuba, who in 1990 claimed that he became familiar with the dark side of the Lenin period “only recently” – among other reasons, thanks to the fact that he had just read The Gulag Archipelago (ȱ. Ⱦɡɸɛɚ, ȱɧɬɟɪɧɚɰɿɨɧɚɥɿɡɦ..., p. 238). This confession of a Ukrainian dissident is quite surprising, because at the same time he boasted that as early as 1968 he was in contact with Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn (ȱ. Ⱦɡɸɛɚ, ȱɧɬɟɪɧɚɰɿɨɧɚɥɿɡɦ..., cover). Thus, it seems impossible that at least fragments of the opus magnum by the Russian veteran of the dissident movement were unknown to Dzyuba much earlier. What is more, in spite of noticing after many years the ty in his desperate clinging to the teachings of Marxism-Leninism, the author of Internationalism or Russification? claims at the same time that many ideas of the Bolshevik leader were not discovered at all (ȱ. Ⱦɡɸɛɚ, ȱɧɬɟɪɧɚɰɿɨɧɚɥɿɡɦ..., pp. 238-239). 61

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communist version – had to be defined anew. That is, new content also had to be put into the fundamental antinomy Russia vs. the West. For this purpose, use was made of the Orthodox Church, whose representatives frequently manifested their anti-Occidentalism.64 This was one of the reasons why the post-communist formula for opposing the West in Russia took on the form of a civilizational conflict of two distinct – in the “culture of antinomy,” mutually exclusive – circles: Western and “Orthodox.”65 Meanwhile, the ideas of Ukrainian independence and sovereignty were tempered in the fire of discussions over the place of Ukraine and its culture between the “Asian” space (Moscow) and “psychological Europe.” It is no accident that Mykola Ryabchuk expressed the view that the democratic and freedom movement in Ukraine fought “Russian etatism” which was the negation of “civil society.”66 That is why Ivan Drach strongly emphasized that “we must follow the European path.”67 It is worth noting that “civil society” is just one of the basic conceptual categories of “psychological Europe.” The intellectual climate of Ukrainian national revival at the turn of the 1980s and 1990s and its European context is well illustrated by Ryabchuk’s conclusion: “it is difficult to imagine an educated Ukrainian who is in favor of independence and self-determination and against Europe and European democratic institutions.”68 Obviously, the idea of “Europeanness,” which in the 1990s achieved such great popularity in Ukrainian discourse on Ukrainian identity, was ambiguous. The popular meaning of Europe that perpetuated itself in the general awareness has become a synonym for “whatever is civilized, democratic, full of dignity and filled with the spirit of cooperation” with the West “in political, economic and cultural matters.”69 “On a more thought-out, scientific level,” Europeanness was understood as everything that is directly or indirectly connected with the 64

More on this topic: Andrzej de Lazari, O mentalnoĞciowych korzeniach euroazjatyzmu, in: MiĊdzy Europą a Azją. Idea Rosji-Eurazji, S. Grzybowski (ed.), ToruĔ: Wydawnictwo UMK, 1998; Monika Nizioá, Dylematy kulturowe miĊdzynarodowej roli Rosji, Lublin: UMCS 2004 (esp. pp. 75-89). 65 Ɇɿɯɚɥ ȼɚɜɠɨɧɟɤ, Ɇɿɫɰɟ ɬɚ ɪɨɥɶ ɩɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜ’ɹ ɭ ɤɨɧɰɟɩɰɿʀ „ɪɭɫɫɤɨɝɨ ɦɢɪɚ» in: „ɋɯɿɞ/Ɂɚɯɿɞ”, 16-17 (2013), pp. 308-322. 66 Mykoáa Riabczuk, SpoáeczeĔstwo obywatelskie i emancypacja narodowa, in: „Zustriczi” No. 1 (7) 1991, p. 99. 67 M. Riabczuk, SpoáeczeĔstwo obywatelskie…, p. 101. 68 M. Riabczuk, SpoáeczeĔstwo obywatelskie…, p. 103. 69 Ⱥɧɧɚ ɉɪɨɰɢɤ, «ȯɜɪɨɩɟɣɫɶɤɿɫɬɶ» ɹɤ ɱɢɧɧɢɤ ɿɞɟɧɬɢɱɧɨɫɬɿ, in: ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɟ ɫɭɫɩɿɥɶɫɬɜɨ ɧɚ ɲɥɹɯɭ ɩɟɪɟɬɜɨɪɟɧɶ: ɡɚɯɿɞɧɚ ɿɧɬɟɪɩɪɟɬɚɰɿɹ, ȼ. ȱɫɚʀɜ (ed.), Ʉɢʀɜ: ɄɆ Ⱥɤɚɞɟɦɿɹ, 2004, p. 150.

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roots of the civilization of the Old Continent, i.e., with “Greek philosophy, Roman law, Christian morality, the Renaissance, Reformation, Enlightenment, and the ideology of the Risorgimento.”70 Post-Soviet Ukrainian nomenklatura elites understood the idea of “Europe” in their own way. It was a sphere of development, stability and tolerance rather than an assembly of sovereign national states and their dominant majorities.71 The reasons for referring to national symbolism and mythology, including these connected with the conflict “the country” vs. “the people of Moscow” were purely pragmatic.72 It does not, however, change the fact that this “founding” dispute did not lose its significance and relevance for the Ukrainian version of communism. In Ukraine, the antinomy “we” versus the West never took root. This means that, on the one hand, an attitude of openness for Occidental influences and cultural inspirations was inscribed in Ukrainian identity, and on the other, these influences rarely excluded even quite close political, mental and cultural relationships with Russia.73 It is worth mentioning that even the Ukrainian version of Marxism-Leninism was characteristically pro-European – the best proof being Mykola Khvylovy. Post-communist authorities in Ukraine also tried to use Orthodox religion as a tool for their legitimization, but in 1991 they did not use the model “we” or “the West,” which was in a way ready after having been developed in Moscow. The fledgling authorities of independent Ukraine decided to use their own, different model of the Orthodox Church, which – at least when it came to the verbal and symbolic level – referred to Kyivan tradition contained in the idea of the Kyiv Patriarchate that was distinct and different from the Moscow one.74 70

Ⱥ. ɉɪɨɰɢɤ, «ȯɜɪɨɩɟɣɫɶɤɿɫɬɶ» ɹɤ ɱɢɧɧɢɤ…, p. 150. Kataryna Wolczuk, History, Europe and the “national idea”: The “official” narrative of national identity in Ukraine in: “Nationalities Papers”, Vol. 28, No. 4, 2000, pp. 687-678. 72 K. Wolczuk, History, Europe…, p. 689. 73 On the issue of Ukraine’s relations with the West: R. Szporluk, Zachodni wymiar ksztaátowania siĊ wspóáczesnej Ukrainy, Warszawa, DiG, 2004; on the issue of Ukrainian-Russian relations – ɍɤɪɚʀɧɚ Ɋɨɫɿɹ ɜ ɿɫɬɨɪɢɱɧɿɣ ɩɟɪɫɩɟɤɬɢɜɿ, ȼ. Ʌɢɬɜɢɧ. Ʌ. ȼ Ƚɭɛɟɪɪɫɶɤɢɣ et al. (ed.), Vol. 1-3, Ʉɢʀɜ: ɇɚɭɤɨɜɚ Ⱦɭɦɤɚ, 2004; «ɏɪɨɧɿɤɚ» Nos. 55-56 (2003), Ɉɥɟɝ Ƚɪɢɧɿɜ, ɍɤɪɚʀɧɚ ɿ Ɋɨɫɿɹ: ɩɚɪɬɧɟɪɫɬɜɨ ɱɢ ɩɪɨɬɢɫɬɨɹɧɧɹ?, Ʌɶɜɿɜ: ȱɧɫɬɢɬɭɬ ɇɚɪɨɞɨɡɧɚɜɫɬɜɚ ɇȺɇ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ, 1997. 74 More on religious policy during L. Kravchuk’s presidency: Serhiy Plokhy, Church, State and Nation in Ukraine, in: Religion and Nation in Modern Ukraine, Edmonton-Toronto: CIUS Press, 2003, especially pages: 173-177; more on the idea of the Kyiv Patriarchate: Ⱥɜɝɭɫɬɢɧ Ȼɚɛǯɹɤ, Ʌɟɝɿɬɢɦɧɿɫɬɶ ɭɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɉɚɬɪɿɚɪɯɚɬɭ, Ʌɶɜɿɜ: Ɇɿɫɿɨɧɟɪ, 2004. 71

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Patrick Michel claims that in the “Soviet-type regimes,” religion was used by the democratic opposition instrumentally, “as a factor determining identity, which necessitates reliance on differentiating criteria, and this, in turn, was to lead to autonomization.”75 After the fall of the USSR, Ukrainian post-communist nomenklatura elites not only had to legitimate their power in the new state, but also justify the need for autonomization in relation to the former center in Moscow. This was also the reason for the turn to symbolism connected with the distinct Kiev Orthodox tradition, whose most pronounced symbol is the Kyiv Patriarchate. At the same time, however, no eminent political force ever really aimed to eliminate the structures of the Orthodox Church connected with the “rival” Moscow Patriarchate. In effect, almost from the very beginning of independence in Ukraine, the two most important Orthodox communities, the UPC MP (the Ukrainian Orthodox Church of the Moscow Patriarchate) and the UPC KP (the Ukrainian Orthodox Church of the Kyiv Patriarchate) functioned simultaneously. However, the disputes over the issue of the canonical status of the Kyiv Patriarchate should position the followers against a very radical antinomy: the real Orthodox Church – the fake Orthodox Church, salvation – damnation; the “culture of antinomy,” as it was already stated, never established itself on the Dnieper River and among state authorities, whose support is sought by both Orthodox denominations, and who actually retain an ambivalent attitude. There is a lot of evidence to suggest that “inarticulate knowledge” in Ukraine and the social practice connected with it consists of the conviction about the necessity of maintaining a minimum balance between the influence of “the people of Moscow” and the “country” matters related to “psychological Europe.” When this balance is disturbed, a crisis begins whose character and development depend on current circumstances and the context. Such a situation took place during the “Orange Revolution.” It could be interpreted as a symptom of stress in the system caused by the excessive dominance of “the people of Moscow.” The “Orange Revolution” highlighted the Central European color of post-communism in Ukraine. It was then that the updated conflict “country” vs. “the people of Moscow” manifested itself with great force. Very characteristically, at the beginning of the 1990s, it found its reflection in the religious situation in Ukraine, especially with regard to the Orthodox Church. Naturally, the mere tension between the Kiev and Moscow Eastern Christian traditions possesses a distinct centuries-old tradition of its own. Its origins, however, are in a way the same as in the 75

P. Michel, Polityka i religia…, p. 47.

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case of the dispute between Ukrainian “national communists” and the Bolsheviks. In fact, their dispute even concerned the attitude towards various elements of “psychological Europe’s” heritage. As we have already stated, this issue was updated in independent Ukraine. Among the nomenklatura party elites who strived for emancipation from the control of Moscow, it became fashionable to refer to various episodes from the history of “national communism.” By analogy, near the end of the USSR, the issue of autocephaly began to return to the bosom of the Orthodox Church in Ukraine. Very quickly, the idea of the Orthodox Church structure which would be independent from Moscow became part of the process of creating the sovereign Ukrainian state as well as for legitimating the authorities which, at least formally, were new. The revived ideas of the Kyiv Patriarchate and the autocephaly of the Orthodox Church in Ukraine are so far only loosely rooted in the genuine heritage of the Kiev Orthodox Church. Instead, we are dealing here with the typically post-communist phenomenon of neotraditionalization. However, it is a very good example of the tension between “the country and the people of Moscow” so characteristic of the Ukrainian version of post-communism. An equally important factor which shaped the inarticulate knowledge in Ukraine is the post-colonial syndrome. The asymmetry in UkrainianRussian relations, especially in the first years after the fall of the USSR, resulted from the colonial nature of the former dependence of Ukraine on the Moscow metropolis. Its consequences were limited not only to the purely political sphere. They were of an organic character and referred to all realms, including culture and mentality. As a matter of fact, it might be said that in the case of Ukraine, after 1991 we are dealing not with the “3rd wave of democratization” but with the “3rd wave of decolonization.”76 To a great extent, the development and specificity of Ukrainian social and political transformation results from the post-colonial mentality of elites and the majority of society.77 As Jan Kieniewicz observes, the key issues in the process of overcoming the colonial heritage are not “structures inherited after the period of dependence” but the stereotypes which “constrain people” and which

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State and Institution Building in Ukraine, T. Kuzio, R. S. Kravchuk, P. D’Anieri (eds.), New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 1999, p. 4. 77 More on the topic of the usefulness of the post-colonial paradigm in relation to post-Soviet states: Henry F. Carey and Rafal Raciborski, Postcolonialism: A Valid Paradigm for the Former Sovietized States and Yugoslavia? in: “East European Politics & Societies,” May 2004; Vol. 18, 2: pp. 191-235.

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perpetuate in them a general “acceptance of domination and their own inferiority” as well as “a servile attitude towards the dominating world.”78 Such reasoning found especially favorable conditions among the Ukrainian Soviet nomenklatura. One of the reasons was the fact that in the mid-1970s – during the period which was crucial for the formation of the later nomenklatura elites of independent Ukraine – the only institution which prepared politicians to work on executive posts was the Higher Party School of the Central Committee of the CPU. These preparations concerned only the “ideological hardening of students” and their goal was to form efficient “executors, not creators of politics.”79 Obviously, all the goals were set by the center in Moscow. The focus of Soviet colonial dominance was upon both “real space” (people and territory) and “imagined space” (spheres of culture and values).80 Negative autothematic convictions accumulated among elites as well as in the general social awareness. As a consequence, in Ukrainian “imagined space” one can find a quite strongly rooted inferiority complex towards the metropolis whose dominance was supposed to be the natural consequence of civilizational superiority. Hence, the majority of Ukrainians rejected their native tradition and adopted convictions, attitudes and values of the oppressor, which resulted in perpetuating social inertia and the dependence syndrome.81 As a result, the contours of “imagined space” in Ukrainian consciousness became blurred and indistinct, and the ability to distinguish one’s native beliefs from the alien, imposed beliefs was to a great extent called into question. It especially concerned the sense and meaning of the independence of Ukraine in its relations with Russia after 1991. The way of ordering both spaces – the “real” and “imagined” – under the conditions imposed by the reality of the Soviet Union was based on a few “canonical” regularities. As for “real space,” the axiomatic hegemony of the Moscow center was in force. The whole functioned on imperial 78

Jan Kieniewicz, Wprowadzenie do historii cywilizacji Wschodu i Zachodu, Warszawa: Dialog, 2003, p. 354. 79 Ȼ. Ʉɭɯɬɚ, ɇ. Ɍɟɩɥɨɭɯɨɜɚ, ɉɨɥɿɬɢɱɧɿ ɟɥɿɬɢ ɿ ɥɿɞɟɪɢ, Ʌɶɜɿɜ 1996, http://politics.ellib.org.ua/pages-877.html 80 The two-dimensional character of a “social system” which consists of “real” and “imagined” spaces has been discussed by J. Kieniewicz, Przemoc polityczna czy opresja cywilizacyjna? Jeszcze jedna próba interpretacji kolonializmu, in: J. Kieniewicz, Ekspansja. Kolonializm. Cywilizacja, Warszawa: DiG, 2008, pp. 133138. 81 Taras Kuzio, Ukraine. State and Nation Building, London-New York: Routledge, 1998, p. 152.

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principles and the dependence of particular republics was of a colonial nature. It ought to be added that in comparison with other European colonial empires, the USSR was an exceptional case. It was the only continental empire where there was a lack of “clear geographical borders between the metropolis and dependent territories.”82 However, the mechanisms of exercising control were the same as in other colonial empires. These were based primarily on violence. A peculiar trait of Soviet imperialism (and previously also the Russian one) was the extent to which this violence was employed. In Western European practice, it was used first of all towards the Aliens. However, in the Moscow imperial model, both Aliens and Fellow Countrymen were equally subjected to violence. This practice was even intensified in the Soviet period. As Kieniewicz notes, “the Soviet Union used violence towards everyone, regardless of their formal citizenship. This was done on the territory of their own state, in the area of their influence (…) and also wherever it was felt necessary.”83 Of special interest for us is the “imagined space.” Here, violence was also used systematically and ruthlessly. It was to break “security barriers of society” in Ukraine and bring about “control over the value system.”84 In the case of Ukrainians, important sources of their “spiritual autonomy”85 were language and religion in the form of the Kiev and Greek Orthodox Churches. The authorities of the Russian and Soviet empires consistently pursued the policy of Russification, whose aim was the elimination of the key elements in the distinct Ukrainian “imagined space.”86 One more element which constitutes this space is also worth mentioning – the language. In order to grasp and understand the whole complexity of the language issue in Ukraine, it is worth referring to the aforesaid idea of society as an autonomous system of communication. From this perspective, it becomes clear that language is a carrier of

82

M. Nizioá, Dylematy kulturowe…, p. 66. J. Kieniewicz, Przemoc polityczna…, p. 135. 84 J. Kieniewicz, Przemoc polityczna…, p. 138. 85 The phrase used by Jan Kieniewicz – J. Kieniewicz, 138. 86 A synthetical overview of this issue can be found paĔstwowych i cerkiewnych wáadz moskiewskich prawosáawnej i unickiej w wiekach XVII-XX, in: Unia konsekwencje…, pp. 83-94. 83

Przemoc polityczna…, p. in: W. Mokry, Stosunek do ukraiĔskiej Cerkwi brzeska, geneza, dzieje i

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“symbolic power” and it displays “the force to preserve or ‘reveal’ meanings and, as a consequence, maintain or change the social order.”87 Anthony Giddens is one of the researchers who points out the mutual relations of the two systems – language and politics. He claims that language is so much in the center of social life that in some respects it can be treated as an exemplification of social processes in general.88 In other words, “both language and politics are social activities based on interactions whose consequence is assigning meanings to elements of the social world.”89 In Ukraine we are dealing with a peculiarly exceptional case. This is because here, the autonomy of language as a separate system was seriously violated by the encroachment of politics. That is why at least Ukrainian reality confirms the thesis that the principles governing politics find their reflection in the principles90 of the linguistic sphere. It is no exaggeration to claim that the politicization of the issue of the Ukrainian language can be traced back to the times of Peter I. The period of a particularly brutal interference of politics with language issues began in 1863, when the Tsar’s authorities, under the influence of the political events of the time and for fear of losing the integrity of the empire, issued the decree from the Minister of the Interior Pyotr Valuyev that the Ukrainian language (under the nomenclature of the period – “Little Russian”) “was not, is not and cannot be.”91 In the Soviet period, mutual connections between linguistic and political issues became even more intensified. In the 1920s, the period of the so-called “Ukrainization,” the native language was to be a tool with which Soviet authorities tried to take root in Ukraine. However, the process of “converting autochthons to Marxism [in its Bolshevik variety – M.W.] by means of the native language”92 started to turn citizens against the Bolshevik leaders. Therefore, it was decided to suppress this process with repressions. As a consequence, at the turn of the 1920s and 1930s, under various circumstances, 200 out of 240 Ukrainian writers and 62 of 85 known learned linguists disappeared.93 On the other hand, a prelude to the political independence of Ukraine was the raising of the issue of the

87

A. Woáek, Demokracja nieformalna…, p. 34. A. Woáek, Demokracja nieformalna…, p. 35. 89 A. Woáek, Demokracja nieformalna…, p. 34. 90 A. Woáek, Demokracja nieformalna…, p. 35. 91 Qtd. after: ȱɫɬɨɪɿɹ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ. Ⱦɨɤɭɦɟɧɬɢ, ɦɚɬɟɪɿɚɥɢ, Ʉɢʀɜ: Ⱥɤɚɞɟɦɿɹ, 2002, p. 211. 92 J. Hrycak, Historia Ukrainy…, p. 208. 93 Ɉ. ɋɭɛɬɟɥɶɧɢɣ, ɍɤɪɚʀɧɚ…, p. 364. 88

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Ukrainian language and its revalorization in the social life of the Soviet Ukraine in a special act from 1989.94 At least to the same extent as language, the religious sphere in Ukraine was bound with politics. Its politicization has an equally long tradition as language’s politicization. What is more, language and religion were very closely linked with each other. Whereas for a long time the Orthodox Church was a tool of Russification, it would be difficult to imagine the development of the modern Ukrainian language without the Greek Orthodox Church. It seems that the accuracy of observations relating to mutual relations and analogies between the sphere of language and politics can be – at least in the case of Ukraine – applied also to religion. That is, the phenomena which we can observe in Ukrainian religious life are a perfect exemplification of political and social processes. Currently, one of the crucial elements of the strategy of reintegrating the Soviet space under the Moscow hegemony is regaining control over the post-Soviet “imagined space.” This is one of the goals of the concept of “the Orthodox civilization,” supported by the Russian Orthodox Church (ROC). The doctrine of “Russkiy Mir” presupposes ROC’s monopoly on the power over Eastern Christian souls, especially in the Slavic part of the former Soviet Empire. The Russian Patriarchate’s claims to hegemony in the post-Soviet “imagined space” are very closely linked with the Kremlin’s aspirations to politically subordinate the “real space” of the former empire. In both cases, Ukraine is the key element of both spaces. The revival of the Kyivan tradition, the development of the Greek Orthodox Church and the consolidation of the independent Ukrainian state thwart the plans to reintegrate the post-Soviet territory under the auspices of Moscow to the same extent but in different mutually connected spheres. Irrespective of its direct causes, the split within the Orthodox Church in Ukraine created the basis for rebuilding the institutional framework of the separate Orthodox Kyivan tradition. This is the key element on which the construction of the native sovereign Ukrainian “imagined space” can be built. Additionally, it is no accident that there are attempts to counteract this process, mainly by deprecating it. The claims about the “noncanonicality” of independent Ukrainian Orthodox Churches or about their “non-Orthodoxness” are good examples of the well-known colonial model of discourse. References to the concept of colonialism may encourage building oversimplified analogies between the transformation in the post-Soviet space 94

The text of the act – see: Ɂɚɤɨɧ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨʀ Ɋɚɞɹɧɫɶɤɨʀ ɋɨɰɿɚɥɿɫɬɢɱɧɨʀ Ɋɟɫɩɭɛɥɿɤɢ „ɉɪɨ ɦɨɜɢ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɿɣ ɊɋɊ”, http://zakon.nau.ua/doc/?code=8312-11.

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and the changes of the systems in post-colonial states of Africa, Asia or Latin America.95 Indeed, due to the neopatrimonial logic of their functioning, using a comparative analysis may prove methodologically justified. However, this should not lead to any far-fetched conclusions. In spite of the similarity between the systemic regularities of the “Orange Revolution” and occurrences in Nicaragua or in the Philippines, social and political realities in Ukraine and in Third World countries remain incomparable. This incomparability results from the “lack of space” where “communication” between the Ukrainian and Filipino or Nicaraguan systems “might go beyond the realm of organization.”96 There are multiple reasons for this. From our viewpoint, the most significant is the issue of various ways in which these systems are connected to European heritage.97 In contrast to former “overseas” colonies, Ukraine has always remained within the European cultural circle. These links were seriously weakened due to Sovietization. It might be said that Sovietization resulted in a considerable de-Europeanization of Ukraine. The durability of the Soviet regime and the “revolutionary impetus” led to the annihilation of significant spheres of social practice. From our perspective, those which were related or common to Ukrainian territory and European civilization are of exceptional importance. These include property rights, social order based on the subjectivity of an individual, and participation in the Christian roots of European culture. As a consequence, after the fall of the USSR, when Western European models, institutions and ideas started to be adapted to the newly emerging Ukrainian reality, they had to give an impression of relatively unknown symbols. Over time, they began to be filled with content, but in numerous 95

For example, O. Fisun purposefully put forward a provocative hypothesis that events in Ukraine connected with the presidential elections of 2004 showed signs of “neopatrimonial revolution,” similar to those which took place in Third World countries. This means that from this perspective, analogies to the events in Ukraine from November and December of 2004 should be sought in crises which occurred in 1979 in Nicaragua and Iran or in 1986 in the Philippines, rather than in “violet” breakthroughs known from Central-Eastern Europe. – cf. Ɉ. Ɏɢɫɭɧ, Ʉ ɩɟɪɟɨɫɦɵɫɥɟɧɢɸ…, p. 182. 96 J. Kieniewicz, Sytuacja, kolonializm, zacofanie. O moĪliwoĞci badaĔ porównawczych Europy Wschodniej i Ameryki àaciĔskiej, in: J. Kieniewicz, Ekspansja, kolonializm…, p.114. 97 Explaining his skepticism about the potential of using the comparative method for analyzing social phenomena in Eastern Europe and South America, J. Kieniewicz points out that “societies of Eastern Europe identify with the European civilization differently from societies of Latin America” – J. Kieniewicz, Sytuacja, kolonializm…, p. 114.

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key cases these symbols started to mean completely different things than their West European originals. After the fall of the USSR, the fundamental elements of the Ukrainian “imagined space” shaped under Soviet conditions, of the related inarticulate knowledge and the resulting social practice were all called into question, or at least vitiated. A significant part of the “as is” knowledge became obsolete. For instance, the seemingly unquestionable hegemony of the Moscow center was confronted with Ukrainian independence. The conviction about the deficiency of Ukrainian culture and language – instilled during many years of ruthless Russification conducted by the state – collided with the law “On Languages in the Ukrainian SSR” passed by the Supreme Council in 1989.98 Finally, the unconditional authority of the Moscow Patriarchate in the Orthodox Church in Ukraine was challenged by the declarations of establishing a separate Autocephalous community in Ukraine.

Globalization, Tradition Nowadays, the concept of globalization is very popular. It is used in a variety of contexts and is filled with different content.99 For the purpose of this book, therefore, we will use the term as understood by E. WnukLipiĔski since, from the point of view of our discussion, this seems to be very inspiring. Thus, for us the term globalization refers to the process of the transformation of social structures and, in certain cases, the modernization of local economic systems which are lagging behind in their development, caused by the mechanism of competition and the increasing deregulation of global markets.100 Although the phenomenon itself is global in character, in different parts of the world it leads to various, frequently contrary, consequences. Everything depends on whether the area in question belongs to the “core,” the “half-peripheries” or “peripheries.”101 At the core of globalization are Western countries, as it is only Western culture that has gone through the stage of modernization. At any rate, in the cultural sense, being modern has become synonymous with westernization.102 The meaning of the term modernization and modernity in the material sphere associated with it, seems clear and comprehensible. 98

See footnote 94. For more information, see P. Beyer, Religion…, pp. 14-44. 100 E. Wnuk-LipiĔski, ĝwiat miĊdzyepoki…, p. 37. 101 The terminology as used by E. Wnuk-LipiĔski. 102 E. Wnuk-LipiĔski, ĝwiat miĊdzyepoki…, p. 37. 99

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We can assume, following E. Wnuk-LipiĔski, that it can be interpreted as the acceptance of Western technology.103 However, the expansion of the Western world is not limited solely to the transfer of technological thought. It also concerns social, cultural and civilizational models. In light of our findings above concerning the sense and essence of modernity, it becomes clear that westernization has a serious impact on the way in which religion functions in the societies which have found themselves within the range of its influence. In order to determine more accurately what models and values can contribute to the processes of westernization, we ought to focus on the problem which Max Weber has defined as the idiosyncrasies of Western culture. In his view, the specificity of the Western world lies in the fact that it was there that the class of professionally qualified civil servants was formed. According to Weber, these workers became the cornerstone of the modern state and modern economy. Obviously, the phenomenon of bureaucracy has also occurred in other cultural circles. However, Weber claimed, nowhere else has the existence of all the most important social subsystems been so firmly dependent on “a specially trained organization of officials” as in the West.104 It was only there that the model of “the State itself” was formed, which means that it was only there that there functioned the state understood as a political institution, with its rationally declared principles, with its regime, with its rationally defined law laid down by regulations, as well as with its management which is oriented towards the rationally established principles (“bills”) laid down by regulations and carried out by professionally qualified civil servants.105 A similar view was presented by Peter Beyer, who stated that in modern times, inhabitants of the West “faced the world with institutionalized techniques and forms of organization that generated more wealth as well as more sophisticated technology, administrative and military apparatus than any of the various other civilizations around the globe.106 Those who represent a more critical attitude towards Western heritage point to violence as the main means through which the benefits of the Western world have been distributed in other cultural circles. Samuel P. Huntington explains that the central premise of the expansion of Western civilization was, however, technical in character.107 At the same time, he 103

E. Wnuk-LipiĔski, ĝwiat miĊdzyepoki…, p. 37. M. Weber, The protestant ethic…, p. 16. 105 M. Weber, The protestant ethic…, pp. 16-17. 106 P. Beyer, Religion…, pp. 52. 107 S. P. Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order, New York: Simon & Schuster, 1996, p. 51. 104

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repeats after other scholars who support the thesis that the development of the West depended to a great extent on the use of violence, and that the global empire of Western people was created chiefly due to the inventions which facilitate warfare, and due to what is referred to as military revolution.108 Obviously, the Western system of values did not exclude violence as one of the principles that constitute the rules of the functioning of the social system. After all, following Weber’s assumptions, the constitutive character of this “state as an entity” and what distinguished it from other institutions and forms of social life was the monopoly on the legitimate use of physical force. This does not mean, however, that the “export” of these principles was only possible with the use of violence and force. Our conviction of how significant violence is increases if we focus solely on the dominance of the West in terms of technology. However, Beyer is right in claiming that the unsurpassed power of the Western world cannot be analyzed without any reference to cultural ideas and values because they also triggered and propelled its expansion.109 Even if the thesis that “the West won the world not by the superiority of its ideals or values or religion (…) but rather by its superiority in applying organized violence”110 can be confirmed in many cases, one still cannot underestimate these Western ideals and values. This applies especially to East-Central Europe, the Ukrainian territory in particular. Here, the civilizational expansion of the Western world occurred through a cultural synthesis of occidental elements and indigenous tradition rather than through any military conquest. Following Max Weber’s line of thought, it is worth noting that we ought to trace the sources of the power of modern life in the West in capitalism. Weber opposed any attempts to boil capitalism down to the desire to make money or the pursuit of profit, because he considered those attempts to be a manifestation of extreme naïvety.111 Undoubtedly, such an extreme shallowing of the axiology which capitalism grew out of precludes its proper understanding. He emphasized the fact that the basic value which allows us to grasp the essence of capitalistic relations is, above all, freedom (“free labour”).112 It seems that in this case it is all about freedom which has already been deprived of religious context. It would be worth, following Jan Kieniewicz, stressing the religious, 108

S. P. Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations…, p. 51. P. Beyer, Religion…, p. 52. 110 S. P. Huntington, The Clash..., pp. 51. 111 M. Weber, The protestant ethic…, p. 17. 112 M. Weber, The protestant ethic…, pp. 21-23. 109

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Christian provenance of the European understanding of freedom. It is one of the pillars of dialogue understood as a specific European form of relationships between people of different cultures. This dialogue is based on freedom but also on “love” understood as the ability to pass on to other people one’s own identity in the form of a gift, and on the truth as the basis of forging one’s identity.113 It should be noted that the question of the relationship between Ukraine and the West keeps recurring in contemporary debates devoted to the place of Ukraine in geopolitical space. Very characteristic is the fact that the essence of reflection concerning this issue is frequently brought down to the repeating of trivialized and dramatically simplified stereotypes. They are particularly omnipresent in various opinions expressed by many Orthodox Church dignitaries and representatives of those environments which in one way or another identify themselves as Orthodox. This problem will be discussed further in a later part of this work. Modernity as a completely new civilizational model was formed in the Western world. Next, through expansion, it was exported abroad, causing deep changes in other civilizations. It has to be emphasized that the mechanism of this expansion – as it was in the previous centuries – excludes the uniformity of other civilizational paradigms following the Western pattern. Although westernization became a synonym of modernity, under the impulses from the West, each civilization has formed its own version of modernity. This is so because the aforementioned expansion signifies the ability to constantly select different components of a civilizational complex, i.e. “ontological images of the major patterns of structuration of institutional arenas, concrete institutional organizations and civilizational consciousness.114 Westernization (i.e. modernity) consists of numerous elements, one of them being the acceptance of the modern language of communication.115 It can be said that the expansion of modernity happens through communication. Communication is a process which, as mentioned above, constitutes social reality. In other words, society is “an encompassing social system” which embraces all forms of communication.116 Peter Beyer claims that these assumptions impose extremely optimistic conclusions as they “almost force” us to admit to the fact that a global community has come into being. According to this Canadian scholar, 113

J. Kieniewicz, Wprowadzenie do historii…, p. 67. S. Eisenstadt, The civilizational dimension..., pp. 8-9. 115 E. Wnuk-LipiĔski, ĝwiat miĊdzyepoki…, p. 51. 116 P. Beyer, Religion…, p. 33. 114

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experience shows that “meaningful communication can and often does take place between any two points around the globe”117. However, such an argument seems to be a little exaggerated. This will become apparent if we realize that communication is a process which takes place via symbols and the meanings ascribed to them.118 For communication to be effective, or rather to bring about the same results in different places, the same symbols have to create the same semantic network of meanings. Nevertheless, this semantic network of meanings is a structure of a particular culture, which means that concrete symbols preserve their defined and commonly understood meaning only within the area of a given culture.119 In order to interpret a given symbol outside this area, it has to be “decoded” and translated into the semantic network of meanings appropriate for a different cultural circle.120 It is this network upon which the circle rests its identity. In other words, the expansion of modernity (westernization), which is treated as the essential sign of globalization, takes places through the “export” of a particular set of symbols. Yet, the isolation of a complex of such universal symbols of modernity poses in itself a lot of difficulties. At the same time, it has to be borne in mind that particular components – symbols – which undergo expansion, make different combinations within the area of other civilizations, different actors use them, and they end up in various historical and ecological environments. As a result, the original meanings of these symbols may become “blurred” or may be interpreted in a variety of ways.121 Therefore, even if it were possible to isolate a closed set of symbols, which, for example, would be associated with modernity, they would still lack their universal character on account of the existing different ways of interpreting them. One might try to narrow and unify these ways of interpretation by a skilful “translation” of symbols by means of codes appropriate for different cultural circles. Due to this, the area of “the common understanding” of communicated messages may perhaps be expanded. However, the translatability has its limits as it depends on the level of their complexity and on the ontological and epistemic assumptions of a given culture.122 In one case, these assumptions can make the “decoding,” or rather transcoding of a given symbol a relatively easy task, while in other cases, such a task will prove difficult or even impossible to perform. For communication to actually 117

P. Beyer, Religion…, p. 33. E. Wnuk-LipiĔski, ĝwiat miĊdzyepoki…, p. 77. 119 E. Wnuk-LipiĔski, ĝwiat miĊdzyepoki…, p. 77. 120 E. Wnuk-LipiĔski, ĝwiat miĊdzyepoki…, p. 77. 121 S. Eisenstadt, The civilizational dimension..., p. 8. 122 J. Staniszkis, Postkomunizm…, p. 149. 118

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take place, a basic agreement must exist between the systems of values created by each society.123 All of the above-mentioned attempts to explain the specificity of the West have been based on different complex and multi-layered symbols such as dialogue, progress, bureaucracy, personal freedom and a free market. It seems that, contrary to all appearances, their communicability outside their indigenous cultural context can be severely limited. Such a complex and expanded reality, which Western civilization (like any other civilization) is, cannot be accurately described by means of simple symbols. A characteristic feature of a West European axial civilization is pluralism in a broad sense of the word. It is already reflected in the structure of the European world. However, it is divided into centers and peripheries. These centers are inclined to expand, which leads to conflicts. The centers dominate, or strive for dominance, but thanks to the fact that peripheries did not lose their subjectivity, this dominance is not – within Europe itself – of an imperial nature. That is why in Europe, in contrast to typical imperial regimes, a multitude of groups and communities emerged, but from peripheries and various subordinate groups there was also much stronger pressure on the center with which they have been connected.124 The consequence of such an organization was the natural tendency of centers and peripheries to interpenetrate each other. As a rule, but of course not always, the relations between them were of a dialogic nature. European civilization was characteristically “concerned about overcoming the feelings of alienation, hostility, xenophobia” through relations based on dialogue.125 It is thanks to dialogue that the key symbols were transmitted and the ways to interpret them were negotiated and “consulted.” In other words, thanks to dialogue, there emerged “a network of connections in which common experiences and realizations of values, feelings of social bonds and the awareness of closeness are formed.”126 Doubtlessly, a look at the history of Ukraine and its culture leads to the conclusion that it almost perfectly fits the delineated model of an axial European civilization. Ukraine occupied a peripheral position within it, but at the heart of its history were successive attempts to organize its relations with, and its influence upon, the historically changing centers (Byzantium, the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, 123

J. Kieniewicz, Wprowadzenie do historii…, p. 71. S. Eisenstadt, Comparative Civilizations and Multiple Modernities, Vol. 1, Leiden: Brill, 2003, p. 359. 125 J. Kieniewicz, Wprowadzenie do historii…, p. 71. 126 J. Kieniewicz, Wprowadzenie do historii…, p. 72. 124

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Russia in its consecutive mutations and, in the last twenty years, the Euroatlantic area). Regardless of whether a particular center at a given time identified itself more (the Commonwealth) or less (Russia) with the European axial civilization, in Ukraine, the way of understanding its own relations with a given center was a thoroughly European one. The proof of this natural tendency – characteristic of a European axial civilization – for centers and peripheries to interpenetrate each other is the ability to synthesize the elements of eastern and western cultures.127 This feature is an immanent part of the Ukrainian identity. It is true that, historically speaking, Ukraine constitutes part of the European cultural circle, but the heritage of the Soviet period quite significantly hindered the process of communication between the European center and the Ukrainian periphery.128 It also has to be noted that globalization itself, just as modernization which conditions it, ought to be looked at not only as a real process but also as a symbol which takes on different meanings in different civilizational and cultural contexts. Within the area of “the core,” globalization will indeed lead to the deregulation of markets, the consolidation of pluralism in the cultural, social, political and religious spheres. The inevitable consequence of this process seems to be detraditionalization, which is defined as a process that results in members of a given community obtaining the conviction that the standards of conduct, authorities and beliefs which flow from tradition are not permanent or invariable. Their content and meaning depend on the cultural context, which undergoes historical fluctuations.129 In the case of half-peripheries, however, the situation is more complex. globalization and the results it produces, for example detraditionalization, will induce ambivalent attitudes. They will either be treated as a necessity or a chance to close the gap between the half-peripheries and the core, or as a threat to their own identity and subjectivity. Here, particularly at the 127

Ihor Ševþenko, The Many Worlds of Peter Mohyla in: “Harvard Ukrainian Studies”, Vol. 8, Nos. 1/2, June 1984, pp. 9-44; R. Szporluk, Zachodni wymiar..., 128 It is very characteristic of Peter Beyer to classify as the most globalized social subsystems science and technology, trade, transmission of information and travelling. He points out, at the same time, that these subsystems are based on communication which is cognitive and adaptable in character – see P. Beyer, Religion…, p. 36. It has to be emphasized, however, that the universal and global character of these subsystems is partly deceptive. This is so because these subsystems do not actually break any barriers or limitations which impose on the communication process the local cultural circumstances, but only ignore them. At any rate, because of this specificity of the aforementioned subsystems, in this case it would be difficult to talk about a meaningful agreement as to any value system. 129 E. Wnuk-LipiĔski, ĝwiat miĊdzyepoki…, p. 225.

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peripheries, there is a widespread temptation to explain the symbol of globalization as a definitive unification of all the aspects of human life.130 In turn, such an interpretation produces defensive reactions which can lead to deepening isolation. It cannot be excluded, then, that as a result of globalization, the division of the world into mutually isolated enclaves will take place.131 Religion, being rooted in the local traditions, can be a perfect tool by means of which the borderlines of such enclaves will be established and consolidated. The situation of Central-Eastern Europe, including Ukraine, is particularly complex. From the historical point of view, culturally this area is, without a doubt, part of the European axial civilization and as such it should belong to the core of globalization. Nowadays, however, as a result of, among others, the process of Sovietization, Central-Eastern Europe exhibits many characteristics of half-peripheries. The awareness of its organic and natural ties with the West is deeply rooted here. At the same time, characteristic of the Old Continent is its conviction about its backwardness as compared to the Western world. The origins can be traced to the fact that the identity of European civilization has permanently been marked by the conviction about the necessary and inevitable development of the society.132 The period of time when Central-Eastern European communities remained in the Soviet zone of influence excluded them for a few decades from taking part in this development. Hence the characteristic conviction about their civilizational backwardness and the necessity to make up for lost time. It must be stressed that the “Iron Curtain” was at that time a significant obstacle in the relations between this part of Europe and the West. The set of symbols appropriate for the West which passed through this barrier was very incomplete, and the way they were interpreted or “decoded” meant that the meanings attached to them were very different from their original meanings. As a result, although throughout that period of time the West was a very important reference point for the Central-Eastern European identity, at the same time its picture remained rather vague and mythologized.133 Tradition, as E. Wnuk-LipiĔski rightly pointed out, serves several functions that are important from our point of view. Above all, it creates “an interpretative scheme” which enables an individual to understand the reality surrounding them. Besides, it imposes, or at least suggests, what individuals should believe in and how they should act. It is also an 130

J. Kieniewicz, Wprowadzenie do historii…, p. 348. E. Wnuk-LipiĔski, ĝwiat miĊdzyepoki…, pp. 81-82. 132 J. Kieniewicz, Wprowadzenie do historii…, p. 362. 133 J. Kieniewicz, Wprowadzenie do historii…, p. 363. 131

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important material for an unarticulated knowledge. Apart from this, tradition is an important source of the legitimization of state power and to a great extent it shapes identities – both individual and collective.134 It forms a conceptual network which determines the possibility to communicate messages between different communities. Tradition is one of the major factors in which the origins of the specificity of each political system have been coded. It is where there are stored “paths to the present”135 which frequently determine the way a given system functions as well as the possibilities and the limits of its transformation. In this way, tradition provides the participants of a political system with the conviction about its permanent and firm bases. This permanence is a value in itself. Globalization and the associated emphasis on promoting the models of Western-European democracy in a sense destroyed the existing coherent picture of reality. As a result of the changes connected with globalization and modernization, it was relativity and not, as it had been so far, tradition that was to start performing the function of the carrier of values. To be precise, we have to mention grave reservations expressed by Patrick Michel: by no means can relativity be interpreted as relativism.136 In voicing these reservations, the French scholar was inclined to seek the meaning of democracy in the appropriate management of relativity arising from pluralism.137 In this approach, detraditionalization understood as a process of “abolishing the limitations imposed by the memory of the past (…) in the name of individual freedom and freedom of choice”138 seems to be a prerequisite to the “proper” functioning of democracy and a characteristic feature of modernity. However, looking at the problem from this perspective, it is not possible to describe or interpret Ukrainian reality properly. Undoubtedly, it is a result of the globalization and democratization processes. Here, however, individual freedom and freedom of choice directed the country back towards its own tradition, striving for its restoration and reconstruction after the period of Sovietization. The case of Ukraine shows that remembering the past does not have to be seen as a bondage to limitations. Its efforts made to return to its tradition, which for the decades of Sovietization was systematically destroyed or deformed, can be treated

134

E. Wnuk-LipiĔski, ĝwiat miĊdzyepoki…, p. 224. R. A. Dahl, B. Stinebrickner, Modern Political…, pp. 66. 136 P. Michel, Religia i polityka…, p. 23. 137 P. Michel, Religia i polityka…, p. 16. 138 E. Wnuk-LipiĔski, ĝwiat miĊdzyepoki…, p. 226. 135

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as a part of the liberating revolution which broke out on the ruins of the Soviet Empire. The relativity and the “awareness of discontinuity” seem to not only be a sign of the times of globalization and democratization, but are also immanently inscribed in the European identity of axial civilization. As Shmuel Eisenstadt pointed out, “one of the most important aspects of the dynamics of the axial civilizations was the development of an internal transformative capacity which sometimes culminated in secondary breakthroughs”139. The turn which has happened as a result of modernity lies in the fact that “the premises on which the social, ontological, and political order were based, and the legitimation of that order were no longer taken for granted”. 140 Hence the assumption that the socio-political order can be – and is – established by conscious human action and, therefore, its susceptibility to changes is unlimited. The example of Ukraine shows that returning to one’s own tradition is just one of the manifestations of this conscious human action. The restoration of tradition is one of the vital premises of the legitimacy of Ukrainian independence. The importance of this issue increases even more when we assume that in Ukraine we deal with a society which is postcolonial in character, i.e. one in which the conviction about the legitimacy of its political system has to be a result of the opinions of people from numerous local and clannish loyalties. In the case of Ukraine (like in the case of other post-Soviet countries) detraditionalization should not be identified with going away from tradition in general but with its deep transformation, which means becoming liberated from the influences of the Sovietized version of Ukrainian tradition. Without a doubt, it is a source of many limitations which prevent Ukrainian society from returning to its full participation in the European axial civilization to which, as mentioned above, it has always belonged genetically, culturally and historically. At the same time, it has to be remembered that returning to tradition is selective in character. The reason, above all, is that tradition or rather – following Jan Kieniewicz’s definition – heritage means a source of information which can be treated as an heirloom, legacy passed down to or just left for the next generations.141 Heritage multiplying, on the other hand, means that each generation adds its own interpretation of the deposit it received. The interpretation also concerns the hierarchy of the 139

S. Eisenstadt, The civilizational dimension..., p. 11. S. Eisenstadt, Multiple Modernities in: „Deadalus”, Vol. 129, No. 1 (Winter 2000), p. 3. 141 J. Kieniewicz, Wprowadzenie do historii…, p. 364. 140

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importance of particular elements of heritage. It is these particular generations that decide which elements to consider as indispensable for the existence of social bonds and for defining their identity.142 Thus, heritage consists of two pillars: the source of information and the generally accepted way for it to be interpreted. Both of these elements undergo change with the passage of time and with the change of generations. Kieniewicz emphasized that the key issue in the functioning of heritage is not so much the need to take care of the overall transmission of all its components as finding the best method of its interpretation, which requires ability and will. Without these two, even the most expansive heritage will remain a mere potential, any reference to which is pointless.143 On the other hand, with their participation, new interpretations of elements from the past lead to heritage multiplying.144 The problem of the proper reading of one’s own heritage has become particularly important in the case of post-communist societies. It is in these countries that the question of seeking standards and values necessary for forming social bonds145 is very much up-to-date. However, in post-Soviet societies, the interpretation of the past is quite often extremely selective and not entirely conscious in character.146 This is due to the fact that the reinterpretation of selected fragments of tradition is treated in quite an instrumental and extemporaneous way. This phenomenon can generally be noticed in the whole area of the former Soviet Union, and it is particularly visible in Ukraine. The selectively and extemporaneously regenerated tradition became used as a weapon in Ukraine’s struggles with the challenges of modernity. At the same time, it is possible to notice in Ukraine a lack of readiness to interpret its heritage in a way accepting of how things really were. It is all about the will for the responsible cleaning of memory understood as the duty to tell the truth about the past and thus to call a lie a lie.147 As a result, instead of genuine heritage multiplying, in many cases we deal with the phenomenon of “neotraditionalization” which leads to the pastiche of original tradition. Its particular elements are separated from their primary connotations and adapted to their new functions or even submitted to them. Besides, within neotraditionalization there takes place the “sharpening” of the meaning of the arbitrarily selected elements and 142

J. Kieniewicz, Wprowadzenie do historii…, p. 364. J. Kieniewicz, Wprowadzenie do historii…, p. 365. 144 J. Kieniewicz, Wprowadzenie do historii…, p. 364 145 J. Kieniewicz, Wprowadzenie do historii…, p. 367. 146 J. Staniszkis, Postkomunizm…, p. 137. 147 J. Kieniewicz, Wprowadzenie do historii…, p. 365. 143

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their idealization. Another consequence of this process is the radical breaking of the rule of sequencing, which is the essence of tradition and the source of its legitimacy.148 All these regularities can easily be identified in the religious life of contemporary Ukraine, particularly in the Orthodox Church.

Secularization As has been mentioned before, in analyzing the conditions of the functioning of religion in contemporary Ukrainian society, one cannot omit the problem of secularization. It becomes an even more up-to-date issue in connection with Shmuel Eisenstadt’s way of understanding modernity which we have adopted here. For many decades, there has been a most interesting and lively debate about the nature, genesis and consequences of secularization. Doubts already arise along with any attempts to answer the question about the range of secularization, namely whether it is a global and universal process in character and typical of the contemporary times or whether it has developed in concrete WesternEuropean civilizational conditions and is inseparably connected with them. In such a case, its range would be limited to the sphere of cultural influences of the West. For the sake of our discussion, it will be sufficient if we adopt the Western-European attitude towards the genesis of secularization. Here, secularization is commonly understood as “a process by which sectors of society and culture are removed from the domination of religious institutions and symbols”.149 As a consequence, religion has lost its most important prerogative in social life – the ability to effectively legitimize the political and social orders. In accordance with the paradigm of thinking which is enforced by the theory of secularization, the Church has lost its “interpretative monopoly” as in the “sense” of going beyond individual reality. The role of the Church is increasingly being taken over by other – temporal – subsystems connected with politics, economy or science. The religious sphere has become “only” one of such subsystems which the society consists of. Each of them establishes two types of relationships: with society and with other subsystems. The first type, defined in literature as a “function,” is intrasystemic in character and is a source of the autonomy of the subsystems as well as determining their specificity. Following N. Luhmann’s attitude 148 149

J. Staniszkis, Postkomunizm…, p. 137. P. Berger, The Sacred Canopy…, p. 107.

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towards religion, we can assume that it is all about “pure religious communication”150. It has to be noted that, at least on the level of Christianity, this communication takes place in two dimensions at the same time: the individual and the collective. The message is simultaneously addressed to each individual and to the group which the people or – in secular terminology – society, form. The other type of relationship – “performance” – takes place when religion establishes a relationship with other social subsystems and when it is used for solving problems which they generate and which they themselves cannot or do not want to solve. A particularly interesting example of such interactions between secular life and religion are cases when the latter is used for resolving issues connected with political power. In its function, religion is holistic and pervasive. Its holistic character manifested itself in its inclination “to determine the whole of existence through the possibility of communication with a posited transcendence”151. Since “function” and “performance” reinforce each other and are inseparably connected with each other, relationships between religion and other subsystems, i.e. its “performances”, were also filled with holistic tendencies. The great power of religious influence in pre-modern societies was due to the lack of the ability to distinguish between its “function” and its “performance”, i.e. its “action” was treated as the extension of its function. Thanks to this, traditional religion was an extremely effective means of legitimizing the secular order. However, together with the progress of modernity, the status of religion as a super system, which organized and managed social temporality, underwent gradual erosion and devaluation. According to Peter Beyer, religious holism is in conflict with “the specialized and instrumental pattern of the other dominant functional systems”152. In the case of religion, the adjustment of the activity of this subsystem, i.e. its relationship with other subsystems, should involve respecting their autonomy. For this to be possible, religion has to give up its holistic approach or, optionally, its recipients have to become individuals since, with time, this approach began to lose effectiveness at the beyond-individual level. This is what would be the essence of secularization processes. They do not necessarily have to lead to the complete elimination of religion from the life of a modern society. However, in case it is not possible to work out a new model of the 150

P. Beyer, Religion…, p. 80. P. Beyer, Religion…, p. 81. 152 P. Beyer, Religion…, p. 81. 151

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functioning of religion in the social sphere, its role in the life of modern societies would become marginalized. It seems that from the point of view of the quality of the functioning of a social subsystem such as religion, an extremely vital issue is to maintain proper proportions between “function” and “action”, i.e. between two types of relationship: pastoral work or, in other words – “pure religious communication”, and the interactions with other subsystems – including in particular – the political subsystem. This balance has been disturbed, something which is particularly visible in the case of the Orthodox Church in Ukraine. Here, the originally “pure” religious communication has become considerably distorted by its politicization. What is more, one of the remnants of the Soviet Union era is the existence of quite a common belief that there is a necessity not so much to distinguish as to separate its “function” from its “performance”. In consequence, in the Orthodox Church which works within the Moscow Patriarchate, quite a common phenomenon was and still is the incompatibility of the messages communicated in pastoral work with those which appear in the relationship with other subsystems, especially with the political one. For example, the Moscow Patriarchate, in fulfilling its “function”, promoted Christian morality while, at the same time, in its “performance” agreed to legitimize the Soviet anti-religious and totalitarian order. At any rate, it had to adapt to it. In our analysis of the problem of secularization and in our attempt to explore its essence, we cannot ignore the concept proposed by Jose Casanova. First of all, this is because, quite convincingly, he opposed the mythologizing of the phenomenon itself. He undermined the legitimacy of secularization as a theory of “evolution of humanity from superstition to reason, from belief to unbelief, from religion to science”. According to him, it was at most a hypothesis which requires empirical verification.153 Casanova also emphasized the necessity “to separate the theory of secularization from its ideological origins in the Enlightenment critique of religion”.154 Casanova pointed out the fact that religion and its functioning are the results of the way in which the problem of the double tension is resolved in public awareness, namely between “this” and “that” world and between the religious and secular spheres. Both of these divisions and the resulting tensions are certainly interrelated but, at the same time, they have to be considered separately. According to the above-mentioned American 153 154

J. Casanova, Public Religions…, p. 17. J. Casanova, Public Religions…, p. 19.

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sociologist of religion, the starting point for any discussion on secularization must be the assertion that in the category of spatial dimensions, there existed ‘that world’ (heaven) and ‘this world’ (earth). But ‘this world’ was divided into the religious world (the Church) and the secular world proper (saeculum).155 In other words, from the political point of view, traditionally, we dealt with the division into the “City of God” and earthly reality. The latter, in turn, was divided “into the Church (the Papal Kingdom) and the City of Man proper”, where power belonged to the anointed – emperors and kings156. Casanova emphasized that the division of earthly reality into the “throne” and the “altar” should not be made absolute, and that a number of premises prove its “ambiguity, flexibility and permeability”.157 The most important is, however, “that this dualism was institutionalized throughout society so that the social realm itself was dualistically structuralized”.158 According to Casanova, secularization as a real historical process lies in the gradual obliteration of this dualistic system inside “this world”.159 As a result, the secular sphere gradually frees itself from the bondage which originally connected it to religion. Religious norms and institutions cease to be a crucial reference point for secular spheres. These have to, in conditions of secularization, somehow find and define anew their place in public reality. Casanova’s approach is deeply inspiring. However, any observation of empirical reality – at least in the post-Soviet area – induces us to clarify these ideas or to place emphases in a slightly different way. First of all, emphasis must be placed upon the traditional key, meaning referring not so much to the division in people’s awareness into “this” and “that” world but to the belief that they are interrelated and that transcendence determines immanence and permeates it. As a consequence, in accordance with the traditional approach, this world was the outcome of the synthesis of the religious and secular spheres. Both of them co-created it. The harmony of “this” world was the result of the harmony between the Church and the “City of Man proper”. It was based on an appropriate balance of their influences, which enabled them to achieve the state of optimal equilibrium. Within the Eastern Church, in relation to the political system, this state was described in the concept of the symphony of secular and spiritual powers.

155

J. Casanova, Public Religions…, p. 14. J. Casanova, Public Religions…, p. 14. 157 J. Casanova, Public Religions…, p. 13. 158 J. Casanova, Public Religions…, p. 13. 159 J. Casanova, Public Religions…, p. 15. 156

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Thus, secularization would refer to the process of gradual obliteration in public awareness of the traditional conviction about the dependence of natural reality on beyond-natural reality.160 This conviction organized the whole social structure which, according to Casanova, was religious, to be more precise - Christian in character.161 The traditional position of the Church in social life was also based on this Christian character. The Church’s position stemmed from the fact that the Church was considered a symbolic sacramental representation of supernatural reality in the empirical world.162 The specifically understood process of releasing public awareness from religion also has an individual dimension. In such a case, we can talk about “secularization of consciousness”, which means that people more and more often “look upon the world and their own lives without the benefit of religious interpretation”.163 According to this approach, secularization would in fact mean a gradual disappearance of religion – both at the social and individual levels. Public space, which religion can influence effectively and truly, is constantly shrinking, and there is general agreement on this issue – at least when it comes to Western European realities. However, the question of “religion dying” as such, arouses controversy and doubts. Secularization, as the process of elimination of the conviction that this world is determined by transcendence, has undermined the foundations of the traditional social structure, particularly the foundations on which the position of the Church and Religious sphere was based in social life. As a consequence, as described by Casanova, the secular sphere has dominated this world and has become omnipresent. In this case, the religious sphere has at least to adapt to the new circumstances and even frequently submit to them. In the region of the former Soviet Union, temporality was particularly expansive. There were a number of reasons which contributed to the fact that the religious sphere became subordinated to the secular sphere, and the Orthodox Church had considerably been changed into a symbolic and sacramental representation of natural, earthly reality. The case of Ukraine and the factions of orthodox communities as well as the Greek-Catholic Church that operated there, is a perfect illustration of secularization thus understood. At the same time, in the case of Ukraine, we can clearly notice tendencies towards the re-empowerment of the Church in regards to the

160

J. Casanova, Public Religions…, p. 15. J. Casanova, Public Religions…, p. 16. 162 J. Casanova, Public Religions…, p. 14. 163 P. Berger, The Sacred Canopy…, p. 108. 161

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“City of Man proper” and towards making attempts to reconnect the temporal and transcendental orders. In analyzing the religious situation in Ukraine, including the question of the relationship between religion and politics, special attention should be paid to the specificity of the place and the original character of the social transformation taking place there. This is due to the fact that, on the one hand, Ukraine belongs to the Eastern Christian cultural circle and, on the other, that its links with Western civilization have had a long history and have been of fundamental importance. One might expect, then, that secularization as another manifestation of those traditional Western European influences will imprint its mark on Ukrainian social reality. However, the situation is complicated by the fact that nowadays, this reality is to a great extent determined by the heritage of the recent Soviet era. One of the main aims of ruthless Sovietization was to break those centuries-long links between Ukraine and the West. In literature, there has been quite an established view that secularization is connected with democracy, pluralism and individualism.164 These values and doctrines triggered the transformation process of European societies, and one of the consequences was exactly secularization. What is important is that it is treated as a natural consequence of the development of European civilization whereas, in the post-Soviet area, the displacement of religion from social life was the result of processes opposite to those that could be observed in the West. Therefore, secularization in that area is different in character and has different origins. There used to be a tendency to think that in Western Christianity the expansion of the secular sphere was an inevitable consequence of the functional differentiation of social structure. However, in the Soviet system, the fundamental principle was to unify and standardize this structure. In conditions of totalitarianism, the formation of separate and autonomous subsystems inside society was practically impossible. Even if any seeds of such subsystems sprouted, they were an anomaly, a deviation from the general principle of the state maintaining control over all the spheres of social life. In relation to the West, it is assumed that the sense of secularization lay in the fact that the state gradually broke away from the guardianship of religion and the Church. On the other hand, in the post-Soviet area, the social structure and all its subsystems, including religion and the Church, became subordinate to the state. At first, the Soviet state took up a fierce struggle against traditional religion, which was to completely disappear from social reality. After a 164

P. Michel, Religia i polityka…, pp. 96-100.

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few decades, the Soviet authorities decided to change their politics. Religion as an element of social life was legalized again. However, this happened with the state maintaining its strict control over religious life. Therefore, any autonomy of the religious sphere and the Orthodox Church towards the state was out of the question – at least if we accept as the evaluation criterion the models and standards accepted in Western Christianity. Casanova put forward a hypothesis that in Western Christianity, secularization made the greatest progress where, traditionally, the Church and the state remained in particularly close interdependence. This idea is based on the results of an analysis of the situation in the countries where, under the rule of absolutist governments, there occurred in the past an exceptionally close alliance between the “throne” and the “altar.” Recent studies have shown that in those countries, the collapse of church religion was especially spectacular. In any event, it was much deeper than the one in areas where the Church and the state managed to preserve greater autonomy.165 This observation concerns the Western cultural circle, and the abovementioned scholar verified it using Spain as a case study. Yet, it seems that the aforementioned hypothesis is still up-to-date when it comes to Eastern Christianity, at least in relation to the jurisdiction of the Moscow Patriarchate and Ukrainian territories. Attention should be paid, though, to the specific and different principles due to which there took place a rapprochement between secular power and the Orthodox Church. These principles resulted from the evolution of the institution of the Russian State – which had, for centuries, been the main “partner” or rather patron of the Orthodox Church. At the same time when there appeared in the West seeds of the modern model of the state, the Moscow Empire reinforced power based on autocracy. As a consequence, in the West, proper conditions were formed for the differentiation of the social structure and the empowerment of its particular subsystems. From the point of view of Jose Casanova’s conception, this seems to be all the more important as the formation process of the modern model of the state was one of the catalysts of secularization in the West.166 This resulted from, among other things, the fact that in the new model of the state, its links with transcendence ceased to legitimize power. The sources of its legitimacy began to be located solely in this world under names such as “the will of the people” or “the social contract.” 165 166

J. Casanova, Public Religions…, p. 29. J. Casanova, Public Religions…, pp. 20-21.

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Meanwhile, in the tsarist empire, the authorities and the state petrified an archaic – from the Western point of view – system in which power had been exercised following the principles of traditional ruling. There, the figure of the ruler was subject to an unprecedented, at least in Western European realities, sacralization. By way of illustration, we can quote an excerpt from a speech given in 1896 by one of the leading hierarchs of the Russian Orthodox Church on the occasion of the coronation of Tsar Nicholas II – metropolitan Antoni Khrapovitski. That eminent man said, among other things, to his subjects that; “the Tsar seemed to be somebody surrounded by infinite earthly might which, however, is not based on any earthly power”, and that the ruler “derived his power and potency from God’s blessing and through the prayers of the Orthodox Church clergy”. The sight of their tsar “preaching peace, truth and love” was to make the subjects forget about all their worries.167 At the same time, there was a common belief that in order to maintain the traditional ruling, it was necessary to maintain full control over the whole social structure and that any manifestations of autonomy or independence inside this structure should be eliminated as a potential danger to the whole order. This also applied to religion and the Orthodox Church, which was finally absorbed by the state as a result of the reforms of Tsar Peter the Great (I).168 If Casanova wrote about “the state Church” in the case of Spain,169 in the case of the Russian Orthodox Church we should talk more about the nationalized Church, i.e. the one which in its actions completely lost its autonomy to the state. The pioneering character of the transformation in the empire which took place as a result of the Bolshevik revolution followed from the fact that the ties between secular power and transcendence were radically cut. In this case, the source of the new authority’s legitimacy was also fully 167

ɋɥɨɜɨ ɜɶ ɞɟɧɶ ɫɜɹɳɟɧɧɨɝɨ ɤɨɪɨɧɨɜɚɧɢɹ ɢɯɴ ɢɦɩɟɪɚɬɨɪɫɤɢɯɴ ɜɟɥɢɱɟɫɬɜɴ

in: ɋɛɨɪɧɢɤ ɢɡɛɪɚɧɧɵɯɴ ɫɨɱɢɧɟɧɢɣ Ȼɥɚɠɟɧɧ͢ɲɚɝɨ Ⱥɧɬɨɧɢɹ, ɦɢɬɪɨɩɨɥɢɬɚ Ʉɢɟɜɫɤɚɝɨ ɢ Ƚɚɥɢɰɤɚɝɨ, Belgrad 1935, pp. 186-187. 168 Tsar Peter the Great liquidated the highest office in the Orthodox Church hierarchy – patriarchate – and replaced it with a collegiate body – the Holy and Sacred Synod, which consisted of 12 clerics appointed by the tsar. The Synod was supervised by a tsarist official – the ober-prosecutor. Wáadysáaw A. Serczyk observes that the Synod became one of the most faithful executors of the tsar’s will by collaborating with the tsar in the creation of the Russian form of absolutism – W. A. Serczyk, Piotr I Wielki, Wrocáaw: Ossolineum 1990, p. 198. For more information, see Borys A. Uspienski, Wiktor M. ĩywow, Car i bóg, Warszawa: PaĔstwowy Instytut Wydawniczy, 1992. 169 J. Casanova, Public Religions…, pp. 75-91.

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located here on earth. At the same time, it would be difficult to conclude that in the case of the USSR we dealt with a modern – according to Western European standards – state. This was so because, among other things, the authority used, for its legalization, a collection of views eschatological and soteriological in character – Marxism-Leninism. What is more, not only was it used as a tool for the legitimization of the Bolsheviks’ rule, but it also determined the shape of the social structure which was to be achieved. In addition, the Soviet authority imposed it in a much more relentless way than the Russian Empire and the Orthodox Church had. The only difference was that the new Marxist-Leninist eschatology was completely closed within this world. Now it would be possible to acknowledge it as a specific culmination of the expansion of temporality. Against this background, the situation of religion in Ukrainian social life looks particularly interesting. The Soviet system, which was based on making social reality uniform, was not able to maintain in the long run the fiction of a unified Soviet society. The axis of the processes of the functional differentiation was in this case a national issue. The national communities restored their subjectivity. The process of the revival of national life was inevitably associated with the “discovery” of the hitherto forbidden or neglected elements of the nation’s identity. In Ukraine, such an element of primary importance is, among other things, the heritage of the Kyivan Orthodoxy. Its roots date back to the times of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. It has to be remembered that until the end of the 18th century, the Kiev Orthodox Church functioned, at least partly, in a system where the privileged position, also in its relations with the state, was occupied by the Roman-Catholic Church. This fact itself forced the Orthodox Church in Ukraine to remain independent of secular power. Also, for a noble democracy, the model of nationalized religion was completely foreign. As for the main principle, the relationship between the secular and religious spheres was based on the principle of autonomy because, among other things, the political system of the state included the following: freedom of conscience and freedom of religion. Besides, the identity of the Kiev Orthodox Church was forged in very intensive relationships with the Western civilizational circle, therefore also with the processes which stimulated the Western European model of secularization. Jose Casanova claimed that these were, apart from the formation of a modern state, the development of Protestantism and the early modern scientific

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revolution170. In this context, it would be useful to note that in the PolishLithuanian Commonwealth, Protestantism also developed on Ukrainian territories,171 and that the first European-style academy school in that particular area of Eastern Europe was opened precisely in Kiev, on the initiative of the Orthodox intellectual elite.172 Thus, in the post-Soviet social reality of contemporary Ukraine, two opposing models of secularization compete with each other – the Western model, based on autonomy and freedom, and the Moscow model, which promotes the absorption, or at least a profound subordination, of the religious sphere to the secular one. This fact is of primary importance, and it has to be taken into account in making any attempts to understand not only the religious situation in contemporary Ukraine – together with all the divisions within the Orthodox Church – but also in any effort made to properly describe the functioning of the political system and the place which religion and the Orthodox Church as well as the Greek-Catholic Church occupy there. Patrick Michel pointed to the fact that in forging a new identity and redefining the relationship between an individual and a community, the vital role could be played by religion, which could enter as a political category173 in favorable circumstances. Religion could be used in politics as a tool – a source of myths and symbols which are or could be useful – first of all, as a weapon justifying opposition against transformation and changes. As Nonka Bogomilova rightly pointed out, the power of such a religiously motivated historical mythology is inversely proportional to the ability of a given nation to periodically restore to the world its social life, or its psychological bases, working relationships and political stereotypes.174

170

J. Casanova, Public Religions…, p. 21. For more information see G. H. Williams, Protestants in the Ukraine during the Period of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth in: “Harvard Ukrainian Studies” 2, No. 1 (1978) pp. 41-72; No. 2 pp. 184-210. 172 For more information about the Kyiv-Mohyla Academy see The Kiev Mohyla Academy (“Harvard Ukrainian Studies,” Omeljan Pritsak, Ihor Ševþenko (ed.), Vol. VIII, Nos. 1/2, 1985); Ryszard àuĪny, Pisarze krĊgu Akademii KijowskoMohylaĔskiej a literatura polska: z dziejów związków kulturalnych polskowschodniosáowiaĔskich w XVII – XVIII w., Kraków 1966; W. Mokry, Akademia Kijowsko-MohylaĔska szkoáą ukraiĔskiego baroku i nowoĪytnej literatury rosyjskiej in: „Krakowskie Zeszyty Ukrainoznawcze”, Vol. I-II (1992-1993), pp. 17-39; A. Naumow, Domus divisa…; Ɋɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɨ-ɮɿɥɨɫɨɮɫɶɤɚ ɞɭɦɤɚ… 173 P. Michel, Religia i polityka…, p. 48. 174 Nonka Bogomilova, A Philosophical Approach to the “Religion – National Mythology” Synthesis in: “Filozofija i Društvo” 3/2009, p. 82. 171

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In Michel’s opinion, religion, which is present as a political category, can confirm the continuity based on tradition and ingrained within it.175 However, taking into account what has so far been said about the multiplication of the heritage and neotraditionalization, it should rather be stated that religion helps people to obtain a conviction that they have managed to restore and grasp this tradition and this continuity. Such a conviction might be very subjective and thereby relative in character. Religion, on the other hand, can consolidate and legitimize this subjectivity while in itself it becomes a secular tool in this system. Such instrumentalization reduces the way in which religion is present in social life. It takes away from religion the role of a carrier of versatile and universal values, and is associated with a particular identity of a given community. Religion as a “living element” of a community ideology helps this community to sacralize its own territory, sanctifies the time continuity and provides its community with energy for the future.176 Yet, this happens at the expense of the doctrinal impoverishment of religion. In the case of Ukraine, as a result of neotraditionalization, at least two versions of tradition have come into being, which are at times mutually exclusive. The matter of dispute remains between geopolitical and civilizational orientations, the attitude towards the Soviet era, the idea of Ukrainian independence, domestic tradition and heritage. These concentrate in, among other things, internal divisions in the Ukrainian Orthodox Church and, more generally speaking, within Eastern Christianity in Ukraine. Patrick Michel suggests that the engagement of religion in politics could lead to the stabilization of the public sphere.177 The specificity of the Ukrainian situation lies in the fact that, among others, the necessary condition for maintaining the stability of the public sphere is to show respect for Ukrainian multi-religious denominationalism. The most prominent faiths ought to be guaranteed access to that sphere relatively proportionally to their range and influences. If this balance was upset and one of the communities became too privileged or, what is worse, became a monopolist in its access to the public sphere, such a situation would lead to conflicts and destabilization. Therefore, one of the conditions for maintaining the stability of the socio-political system in Ukraine is to show respect for the religious pluralism specific to it. The divisions present in the local Eastern Christianity arise from differences which are particularly associated with the secular sphere. We could say that, 175

P. Michel, Religia i polityka…, p. 48. N. Bogomilova, A Philosophical Approach…, p. 88. 177 P. Michel, Religia i polityka…, p. 48. 176

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inevitably, in this way, these differences find their legitimacy. In consequence, religious pluralism legitimizes “secular” pluralism – both social and political. The specificity of the social subsystem which the religious sphere obviously is, as well as the sources of its autonomy, influence, by their very nature, the mediation between “this” and “that” world. While analyzing the situation of the Orthodox Church during the period of the USSR and its present-day situation which is so much burdened by its Soviet heritage, we should take this circumstance into consideration. Then, it will be easier to understand just how difficult a situation the official and legal Orthodox Church was in when functioning within the USSR. Understandably, all of its activities focused on its relationships with the only truly functioning system – the state. The sense of those relationships could have practically lain in the unscrupulous legitimization of the Soviet order, and so in an at least official acceptance of the vision of the atheist society, out of whose consciousness the existence of supernatural reality was erased. In this way, the Orthodox Church as an institution managed to survive. Meanwhile, the possibilities for a religious subsystem to maintain its direct relationships with society were undermined. In other words, using the terminology of Niklas Luhmann and Peter Beyer, the possibility of the Orthodox Church to fulfill its traditional function was brought into question, which meant “pure religious communication”, i.e. one whose sense lies in its reference to transcendence.178 This happened not only due to the fact that the Soviet system as a rule radically distorted the conditions for continuing such “religious communication” but also because the Orthodox Church as an institution, especially the Moscow Patriarchate, served as a tool for the legitimization of that system. In this way, its credibility became undermined in the process of that communication. It seems that we could confidently say that the Ukrainian Orthodox Church in all its factions inherited this characteristic tendency to exhibit the triumph of activity (especially when it comes to its interactions with politics) over function. This hypothesis could be confirmed in the division of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church into three basic factions: the Ukrainian Orthodox Church of the Moscow Patriarchate (in fact it is part of the Russian Orthodox Church), the Ukrainian Orthodox Church of the Kyiv Patriarchate and the Ukrainian Autocephalous Orthodox Church. This division does not result from any controversy surrounding any dogmatic issues. Its reason lies in the fact that the orthodox communities and their hierarchs have become engaged in the political system. By no means does 178

P. Beyer, Religion…, p. 80.

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it lie in any relevant content connected with pure sacred communication. It has to be noted that, in the case of the Russian Orthodox Church, the aforementioned triumph of its action over its function occurred long before the October Revolution. After the collapse of the tsarist regime, it became pathological in nature due to the character of the Soviet authority and its main goals included in the Marxist-Leninist ideology. Jose Casanova shows in a fairly convincing way that the essence of the phenomenon of secularization in Western Europe lies in the fact that it is practically meant for “this” (i.e. the temporal) world and is closed within it. It concerns the relationship between the religious and the secular spheres but by no means does it automatically arbitrate anything concerning the question of whether a supernatural reality exists. Secularization also eliminates the influence which the awareness of the tension between immanence and transcendence used to have on social life. However, as for the main principle, there is no convincing evidence that secularization understood as a real historical process must make this awareness of the existence of transcendence disappear. However, secularization in the Soviet model was something more than just a struggle to release the secular sphere from the influence of religion. It was also something more than just an attempt to erase from social awareness the belief that temporality is dependent on supernatural reality. Its main aim was to question the existence of this transcendental reality. Therefore, if we want to use the term “secularization” in relation to Ukraine and generally to the post-Soviet area, we ought to apply to it a meaning which is slightly different from the one applicable to the situation in Western Europe. In this respect, Nonka Bogomilova’s view seems extremely inspiring. According to her, secularization leads to two consequences: “the erosion of the image of God as an absolute, as a transcendent reality” and “the inclusion of religious faith and experience in the complex social texture of needs, passions, community identities pertaining to particular empires, states, nations, ethnic groups, civilizations, classes”179. As a result of this process, religion does not disappear and it does not become excluded from public space. On the contrary – it merges into it. This Bulgarian scholar illustratively states that as a result of this process, God was “divided” and became “a collaborator and participant in various human enterprises, strivings, yearnings”.180 Secularization occurs when great religious systems lose their universal qualities by the fact that particular religious communities become 179 180

N. Bogomilova, A Philosophical Approach…, pp. 86-87. N. Bogomilova, A Philosophical Approach…, p. 87.

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entangled in the local social and cultural circumstances. As a consequence, the real message of religion is determined not by any general, universal principles or truths but by a particular way of their understanding which results from the local circumstances.181 When it comes to the societies of the post-Soviet area, including Ukrainian society, we have to particularly carefully distinguish between religion in the strict sense, whose aim is to combine the sacrum and profanum, and political religion, which only preserves the structure of what is religious but its message and its goal are purely in “this” world.182 Therefore, when discussing the so-called “religious renaissance” in Ukraine after the collapse of communism, one should focus not only on the dimension of quantity (the percentage of people who declare themselves to be believers, the number of registered parishes) but also on the dimension of quality, i.e. what messages, values and models of behavior this renaissance has brought or consolidated and to what extent they are indeed being absorbed by societies.

181

N. Bogomilova, A Philosophical Approach…, p. 87. Hans Otto Seitschek, Mesjanizm polityczny i religia polityczna – niemieckie interpretacje uniwersalnego zjawiska in: „Teologia Polityczna”, No. 4 (20062007), p. 101.

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The conviction about the validity of a political system has a significant influence on the loyalty of the masses toward the authorities, which – as Jurgen Habermas observes – is fundamental for the stable functioning of that system.1 Such loyalty becomes an especially delicate problem if we assume that Ukrainian society possesses many traits of the postcolonial society, i.e., it is non-consolidated inside and divided among various religious and clan loyalties.2 In this case, the question who should control such a state becomes especially significant. At the same time, because of the above-mentioned various loyalties, the problem becomes extremely complex. It seems that one of the consequences of such an understanding of the crisis of motivation is, in terms of a group, “a deficit of identity,” that is, a situation in which there is a shortage of unambiguous and commonly considered obvious answers to such questions as: “who am I?” “what is important to me?”, and “what do I want to achieve?”3 This search for an idea of oneself is especially important in a situation when the identity, religion or the way of life of a given community has been discredited as backward, superstitious and false for a long time.4 In the case of Ukrainian identity, this discrediting has in fact been going on for ages. The stigma of provincialism clung to it already in the period of the Tsarist Empire. Next, in the Soviet period, its key elements were systematically destroyed and belittled as “reactionary,” “bourgeois” and less valuable. It is enough to refer to the so-called theory of two cultures by Lebed.5 Because of the commonly accepted dogma of atheism, the

1

Jürgen Habermas, What does a crisis mean today? Legitimation problem in late capitalism in: “Social research”, Vol. 40, No. 4 (Winter 1973), pp. 651-652; more on this topic see: J. Habermas, Legitimation crisis, London: Heinemann, 1980. 2 State and Institution Building…, p. 4. 3 E. Wnuk-LipiĔski, ĝwiat miĊdzyepoki…, p. 231. 4 State and Institution…, p. 4. 5 Dmitrii Lebed (1893-1937) – among other functions, he was the secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Bolsheviks of Ukraine. In 1923 he propagated the view that the Russian culture, as revolutionary, was higher than

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religious foundations of Ukrainian identity were also methodically and ruthlessly deprecated. Therefore, on the one hand, numerous factors point to the fact that in Ukraine we are dealing with an especially glaring example of a political system which has been suffering from the above-mentioned “identity deficit” from the very beginning of Ukrainian independence. It is enough to mention the results of the referendum from March 1991, in which Ukrainians voted for the continuation of the Soviet Union (of course, in its reformed shape) and for Ukrainian independence.6 However, it seems that in order to properly interpret the identity dilemmas of Ukrainians, one has to be especially sensitive to the nuances of the local cultural conditions and the specifics of their socio-cultural system which has a borderland character. That is, in a “geopolitical and intellectual sense,” there is a clash of currents and tendencies which are contradictory (or perceived as such). These are, for example, “neotraditionalization” and modernity, “communism and democratic capitalism,”7 Middle European and Russian versions of post-communism, the traditions of the Christian East and West. The essence of such a peripherality of the system is the necessity to reconcile the elements of various traditions and the ability to select influences and borrowings. Some of them may take root, others are rejected or marginalized. Very frequently, they are “partially” adopted and undergo “deformation.”8 The key issue is the ability to correctly recognize which of these influences and borrowings can be negotiated with the “ontological and epistemological assumptions of a given culture.”9 Only in this case can the system maintain its identity. The area of such a borderland creates many different “grammars” which overlap, and the rules of selection are changeable and depend on circumstances. All this results in the hybrid character of identity formed in the borderland.10 It seems, however, that if this diversity of “grammars” is considered a problem, a peculiar ill fortune, it will be impossible to grasp the essence of Ukrainian (as well as Middle East European) identity. This is because traditionally in this region, diversity generated not only problems and controversies, but was also a source of richness. In other words, the the Ukrainian one, which was supposed to be “counterrevolutionary” by nature. That is why the latter “had to fail and ceased to exist.” J. Hrycak, Historia Ukrainy…, p. 173. 6 J. Hrycak, Historia Ukrainy…, p. 319. 7 J. Staniszkis, Postkomunizm…, p. 148. 8 J. Staniszkis, Postkomunizm…, p. 148. 9 J. Staniszkis, Postkomunizm…, p. 149. 10 J. Staniszkis, Postkomunizm…, p. 149.

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specific nature of Ukrainian “cultural tradition” consists exactly in the fact that it does not eliminate various possibilities of answering those questions of: “who am I?” “what is important to me?” “what do I want to achieve?” That is why it is natural in Ukraine for people to have various ideas about what democracy should be like or how the key institutions of poliarchy should function, sometimes also what is the Orthodox Church or what is the proper and natural form of Eastern Christianity for Ukraine. All this creates a very interesting context for the functioning of religion in social reality. At this point, it is worthwhile to refer to Émile Durkheim’s wellknown paradigm of thinking about the social dimension of the functioning of religion. According to him, religion should be treated as “the system of symbols by means of which society becomes conscious of itself” and the “way of thinking of collective existence.”11 It ought to be added that the view that religion integrates society has its opponents as well. For example, Peter Beyer states that the Durkheim tradition, which imposes such an interpretation of the place of religion in social life, is based on an empirically unproven assumption that in fact religion fulfills this task in all circumstances.12 However, from the viewpoint of our discussion, the issue of universality of conclusions formulated by Durkheim is of secondary importance. What matters is their relevance in relation to European civilization. And in this case, it seems that Philippe Nemo was right to point to, for example, the positive correlations between western Christianity and democracy.13 According to Robert A. Dahl and Bruce Stinebrickner, politics is “the exercise of influence”14. It seems that they mean the phenomenon which Peter Beyer called “public influence”. It takes place when professional action becomes meaningful beyond “the narrower audience of fellow professionals and the voluntarily associated members of the public”15. In the case of religion, one can talk about public influence as far as the activities of the clergy or the whole church community acquire an extraecclesial significance. If we assume that the religious sphere is a particularly autonomous type of communication, the possibility of it exerting public influence will depend on the contents of that 11 Émile Durkheim, Suicide. A Study in Sociology, trans. by John A. Spaulding and George Simpson, New York: The Free Press, 1951, p. 312. 12 P. Beyer, Religion…, p. 79. 13 Philippe Nemo, What is the West?, Pittsburgh: Duquesne University Press, 2006, pp. 39-86. 14 R. A. Dahl, B. Stinebrickner, Modern Political…, p. 34. 15 P. Beyer, Religion…, p. 78.

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communication; whether those contents can be limited only to the religious sphere, or carry a message which is important for the participants of public life who are loosely or not at all connected with the sphere. The question arises, however, whether religion can still effectively exert a “public influence” in the case of the post-Soviet society, which not long ago was subjected to compulsory atheization and which is now under the influence of the patterns taken from the secularized West. Nonetheless, it seems that a possible negative answer to such a question would be based mainly on the available quantitative data, whereas they predominantly refer to the level of individual participation in religious practices. On this basis, one can at best draw conclusions about the condition of religious life from an individual perspective. The crisis of faith and religious life on this level does not have to automatically determine the place of religion in social and political life. It has to be borne in mind that “collective representations are of quite another character from those of the individual.”16 And “public influence” referred to here concerns and is based mainly upon “collective representations.” Thus, the role that religion can play in broadly defined social life depends not so much on the number of people who “practice religion” individually, but on potential possibilities for religion to exert an influence on people’s thinking concerning fundamental institutions of the social and political system. It seems that the Orthodox Church has become one of the key means of influence used to attempt to create various major “collective representations” in Ukraine. The significance which in this respect is ascribed to the Orthodox Church is disproportionately large in comparison with the actual level of the authentic individual religiosity. While in the post-Soviet countries it is relatively low, this is what, paradoxically, can facilitate the instrumental use of religion in order to achieve various goals of a clearly “secular” character. This is because, as Anastasia Mitrofanova rightly notes, in places where people have just returned to their halfforgotten religious beliefs and where the majority of the population do not take part in rituals and do not know the basic truths of the Faith, the likelihood of politicizing religion becomes greater, which means its annexation by the secular sphere is much more probable.17 It appears also to be true to say that in a secularized, atheist or religiously indifferent society, there is a greater chance that some political forces will decide to 16

E. Durkheim, Suicide…, p. 312. Anastasya Mitrofanova, Fundamentalism and Politicization of Religion in Russian Orthodoxy in: Religion in a Changing Europe. Between Pluralism and Fundamentalism. Selected Problems, M. Marczewska-Rytko (ed.), Lublin: UMCS, 2003, p. 134.

17

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use religion cynically in order to achieve their own private political goals.18

18

A. Mitrofanova, Fundamentalizm and Politicization…, p. 134.

PART II: THE ORTHODOX AND UKRAINIAN GREEK CATHOLIC CHURCHES IN CONTEMPORARY UKRAINIAN SOCIAL AND POLITICAL REALITY

CHAPTER FOUR RELATIONS BETWEEN THE ORTHODOX CHURCH AND STATE AUTHORITIES: EXPERIENCES FROM THE SOVIET PERIOD

The roles that the Orthodox Church and the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church (UGCC) played in shaping the social and political reality of the independent Ukraine was to a great degree a result of the experiences of events from the Soviet period. Therefore, it is worth taking a cursory look at them. Particularly in the first period - from 1917 to 1943, the Bolshevik state policy was clear and simple in its own way. Its purpose was to eliminate religion from public life. To achieve this, the Bolshevik government sought the actual physical liquidation of the Orthodox Church (as well as other religious confessions). The effectiveness of their absolute policy is proven by the declaration made on March 30, 1927 by the then acting Patriarch of Moscow, Sergei I. In it he stated, among other things, that the route to a normalization of relations between the Orthodox Church and the state in the USSR was blocked by some of the clergy’s anti-Soviet sentiments and the hierarchy’s anti-Soviet activity, who after the Bolshevik Revolution found themselves in exile and working within the framework of the so-called Karlovac Synod.1 Sergei I expressed his gratitude to the Soviet government for their permission to organize the synod in June of 1927. In addition, the head of the Russian Orthodox Church said that belonging to Christianity does not preclude acceptance of the Soviet Union as “his civil country, whose joys and successes are our joys and successes, and failures – our failures.” In the mentioned declaration we read that the Soviet system should be accepted as a fact, a manifestation of the Divine Will. Opposing it would be unwise. Sergei invited all those who shared this view to cooperate.2 What is very 1

Ⱦɦɢɬɪɢɣ ɉɨɫɩɟɥɨɜɫɤɢɣ, Ɋɭɫɫɤɚɹ ɩɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɚɹ ɰɟɪɤɨɜɶ ɜ ɏɏ ɜɟɤɟ, Ɇɨɫɤɜɚ: Ɋɟɫɩɭɛɥɢɤɚ, 1995, p. 117. 2 Ⱦ. ɉɨɫɩɟɥɨɜɫɤɢɣ, Ɋɭɫɫɤɚɹ… p. 117.

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characteristic is that the words of the supervisor of the Moscow Patriarchate indicated that the condition for such cooperation was to be completely politically neutral. He did not demand that the faithful renounce their anti-Soviet views; he only wanted them to “leave these at home.”3 One could say that Sergei did not care about the affirmation of Bolshevik ideology on the part of his faithful, but only being obedient to Soviet authorities. In this perspective, the fateful declaration from 1927 looks like part of a specific agreement between the Bolsheviks and Sergei I – the Church’s loyalty in exchange for survival. However, this declaration from the beginning was controversial. From our point of view, what is most important are the words in conjunction with the subsequent practice which lasted for decades and determined the way of understanding the relationship between the hierarchy of the Orthodox Church and the state. In order to properly understand the meaning and consequences of the proceedings of Sergei I, it is necessary to take a closer look at the circumstances under which he made a declaration of loyalty to the authorities, as well as how the relations between the Orthodox Church and the Bolshevik state were arranged in the coming years. Since the early 20s of the twentieth century, the church was torn apart by internal divisions, which to a large extent were inspired and supported by the Bolsheviks.4 In more or less skillful ways, not only did they create new disputes, but also took advantage of the conflicts that naturally grew in the womb of the Orthodox Church during the last decades before the revolution. Centralizing tendencies resulted, inter alia, due to more and more swollen ethnic issues within the Tsarist Empire. This was clearly evident in Ukraine, where there appeared a favorable movement for Ukrainization of the local Orthodox structures.5 In 1921, the Ukrainian Orthodox Church was constituted, and Vasyl Lypkivskyi was appointed her supervisor. From the beginning, the canonicity of the newly arisen structure raised doubts. D. Pospielovskiy 3

Ⱦ. ɉɨɫɩɟɥɨɜɫɤɢɣ, Ɋɭɫɫɤɚɹ…, p. 117. More on the subject of the internal matters of the Orthodox Church - Ⱦ. ɉɨɫɩɟɥɨɜɫɤɢɣ, Ɋɭɫɫɤɚɹ…, pp. 66-79. 5 Under the idea of Ukrainization, we must understand the demand to return to and renew the separate and specific tradition of the Kiev Orthodoxy, the introduction of Ukrainian language into the liturgy, the autonomy or lack of independence of the Orthodox Church in Ukraine on the Moscow Patriarch - more on this subject: B. Bociurkiw, The Ukrainian Autocephalous Orthodox Church 1920-1930: A Case Study in Religious Modernization, in: Religion and Modernization in the Soviet Union, Dennis J. Dunn (ed.), Boulder: Westview Press 1977, pp. 310-347. 4

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stated that the Bolsheviks initially enthusiastically took up the idea of Ukrainian autocephaly6 and its supporters hoped that the Bolshevik religious policy would favor them. This was to be a “creative” transportation of the Leninist principle of the right of peoples to selfdetermination onto religious ground.7 Here it ought to be mentioned that this thesis greatly simplifies the problem of Ukrainian autocephaly. Its roots go much deeper than the time of the October Revolution and the very desire for independence of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church from the Moscow Patriarchate generates more lasting divisions within many people than the Bolsheviks were able to artificially create for the use of their policy in the sphere of religion. Ukraine, for a number of reasons, was of key significance for the Russian Orthodox Church. Ukrainian autocephaly from the very beginning troubled Moscow’s episcopate. It is significant that a decisive blow was made by the Bolsheviks a few months after Sergei I’s declaration of March 1927. From July to August of that year, the head of the Ukrainian autocephaly, V. Lypkivskyi, was under arrest, and in October 1927, the Bolsheviks forced the II Ukrainian Nationwide Metropolitan Council to evict the Metropolitan from his office, followed by a process of elimination of the Autocephalous Orthodox Church, ending in January 1930. Perhaps the trial of the Ukrainian autocephaly can be treated as revenge by the Soviet authorities for the declaration of allegiance to Sergei I. However, it should be noted that this is only a hypothesis that requires verification. Most certainly, the threat of the destruction of the Orthodox Church “from within” was a very powerful means of pressure on the superiors of the Moscow Patriarchate. Maybe thanks to this they were able to persuade Sergei I to sign a declaration of allegiance. However, we must keep in mind that the Bolsheviks used still another, very suggestive way to force him to submit. In 1927, there were 116 people under arrest by the GPU out of the 160 members of the Orthodox episcopate. Sergei decided on an ultimatum: if he did not give in politically, the arrested hierarchy would be executed.8 Therefore, we can assume that the head of the Moscow Patriarchate acted under force. Dmitry Pospielovskiy states that Sergei had no choice. If he had not agreed, the GPU would have eventually destroyed the Orthodox Church through internal rifts anyway. At least he was able to save the “core of the higher administration of the Orthodox Church”, 6

Ⱦ. ɉɨɫɩɟɥɨɜɫɤɢɣ, Ɋɭɫɫɤɚɹ…, p. 85 Ⱦ. ɉɨɫɩɟɥɨɜɫɤɢɣ, Ɋɭɫɫɤɚɹ…, p. 87. 8 Ⱦ. ɉɨɫɩɟɥɨɜɫɤɢɣ, Ɋɭɫɫɤɚɹ…, p. 80. 7

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thanks to which in 1943 her rebirth could occur under the direction of the canonical hierarchy.9 In addition, Russian researcher Pospielovskiy claims that Sergei I could not have foreseen that the Bolsheviks would not abide by the contract and that the 1930s would be followed by further persecutions.10 This particular line of argument seems not to be entirely watertight. The mass persecutions, the extermination of the clergy and the faithful and the confiscation of the Orthodox Church’s property that occurred before 1927 should have left no illusions as to the Bolsheviks’ objectives and their methods of implementation. Its results were tragic, as evidenced by statistics alone. In 1917, the Moscow Patriarchate had 163 bishops, 50,000 clergy, 1,000 monasteries and 60 seminars. In 1939, it consisted of only seven bishops and a few hundred clergymen. All monasteries and seminaries were closed down.11 If we assume that the declaration by Sergei I was a kind of tactical procedure that was to save the Orthodox Church from destruction, then it should be noted that this objective was not achieved. However, without a doubt, the head of the Moscow Patriarchate, despite exhortations to be “apolitical,” legitimized the Soviet regime. It should be noted that the roots of “Sergianism” should be searched for much deeper, before communists took over power in Russia. Sergei’s attitude perfectly fits the model of the relationship between the state and the church that developed before the revolution, based on the principle of complete control and subjugation of spiritual authority with respect to secular power. In social and public life, the Russian empire created a specific “secular clericalism.”12 The interests of the Orthodox Church, the meaning of the Orthodox religion and its reason for being were defined by the secular interests of the empire, and they were part of the state’s rights. Generally, clericalism means the impact of an independent church on social and public life. Meanwhile, under the conditions of the Russian Empire, we had to deal with “an attempt to make social life confessional as undertaken by a dependent Orthodox Church” with the help of “purely secular tools.”13 “Sergianism” was adapted to the conditions imposed by the Soviet regime which continued the tradition of reliance on the state and 9

Ⱦ. ɉɨɫɩɟɥɨɜɫɤɢɣ, Ɋɭɫɫɤɚɹ…, p. 118. Ⱦ. ɉɨɫɩɟɥɨɜɫɤɢɣ, Ɋɭɫɫɤɚɹ…, p. 118. 11 Harvey Fireside, Icon and Swastika. The Russian Orthodox Church under Nazi and Soviet Control, Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1971, p. 116. 12 ɋɟɪɝɟɣ Ɏɢɪɫɨɜ, Ɋɭɫɫɤɚɹ ɐɟɪɤɨɜɶ ɧɚɤɚɧɭɧɟ ɩɟɪɟɦɟɧ (ɤɨɧɟɰ 1890-ɯ-1918), Ɇɨɫɤɜɚ: Ⱦɭɯɨɜɧɚɹ ɛɢɛɥɢɨɬɟɤɚ, 2002, p. 42. 13 ɋɟɪɝɟɣ Ɏɢɪɫɨɜ, Ɋɭɫɫɤɚɹ…, p. 42. 10

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the tradition of building its position by using the purely secular power of the state. This was perfectly evident during the so-called “rebirth” of the Orthodox Church in 1943. Even before this “new opening” in relations between the Soviet state and the Orthodox Church we could note several positive – from the point of view of the Moscow Patriarchate – signals. During the annexation of the Baltic States from 1939 to 1940, Soviet authorities gently dealt with the local Orthodox communities, supporting efforts to relieve them from the jurisdiction of the Patriarch of Constantinople and subordination to Sergei.14 During the Battle of Moscow, the ban on night traffic did not apply to the Easter celebrations, which were held on “a grand scale.”15 In 1943 there was an official meeting of the premier hierarchy with Joseph Stalin. The Soviet dictator agreed to, inter alia, filling the Patriarchal throne. A special formal structure was established to maintain relations between the Orthodox Church and the Soviet state; the Council on Russian Orthodox Church Affairs.16 The new quality of relations between the state and the Orthodox Church after 1943 was based on the fact that the Bolshevik authorities decided not to completely destroy it. They allowed for the existence of the Orthodox Church in the margins of the official life of the USSR.17 However, this did not lead the community to become independent of the state. On the contrary, they grew together with it quite strongly. In 1943, Sergei I signed a text entitled The Truth about Religion in Russia. In it, he stated that there were no religious persecutions in Russia, and the repression was directed against the enemies of Soviet authorities.18 The turning point in 1943 in part contradicted the actual principles of “Sergianism.” The novelty only consisted, in fact, in a quite illusory change in the status of the Orthodox Church: “from a probationary servant to junior partner of the state”19. The declaration of 1927 in an extremely stable manner sanctioned the model of relations between the Soviet state and the Orthodox Church. The Orthodox hierarchy became yet another factor that legitimized the Soviet authorities and all their actions. Originally, the doctrine of so-called 14

J. G. M. Hoffmann, Église et Communisme en URSS, in: « Christianisme Social », No. 1, 1947, pp. 44-45. 15 J. G. M. Hoffmann, Église et Communisme…, pp. 44-45. 16 Albert Boiter, Law and Religion in the Soviet Union, in: “The American Journal of Comparative Law,” Vol. 35, No. 1 (Winter 1987), p. 123. 17 H. Fireside, Icon and Swastika…, p. 116. 18 J. G. M. Hoffmann, Église et Communisme..., p. 43. 19 H. Fireside, Icon and Swastika…, p. 167.

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“Sergianism” could be regarded as the price for the physical survival of the Church as an institution. With time, however, we could see that “Sergianism” was not an exceptional act adopted under special circumstances. It became the rule, the official and permanent doctrine that marked the proceedings of the Orthodox hierarchy. It can be defined as “Stalinist Caesaropapism.”20 It should also be noted that despite the end of the Stalinist era, this model survived almost to the very collapse of the USSR. There are many signs that after reconstruction in 1943 the ROC was subject to the same mechanisms as the secular sphere in terms of personnel policies. In general, it could be described as a system of nomenklatura. The concept of nomenklatura used to be identified with a specific model of management and staff selection practiced by the ruling parties in communist countries. According to the textbook definition in the USSR, “nomenklatura is a set of the most important positions which candidates have previously been considered to hold, recommended and approved of by the given party committee (regional, urban, peripheral, etc.).”21 In a more universal approach, nomenklatura means the circle of posts whose appointing is the responsibility of “a localized higher authority,”22 or, perhaps more precisely, some parent institution in a given system. For the record, it is worth distinguishing between the concepts of “nomenklatura” and “elite.” In our understanding, the term ‘elite’ refers to a group of people who have a widespread belief in their “decency.” It concerns those perceived to be “just,” who possess “moral authority in society” and a “sense of justice.” In this way, they are able to identify the “strategy and policy objectives” of the community.23 Thus, summing up the concept of “political elite,” the issue of “social reputation” is closely related to it.24 Meanwhile, in Soviet society that functioned according to the scheme “authority – the masses,” the nomenklatura took the place of the elite as understood in this way. It could only be a surrogate for the real elite because of the different ways of recruitment and internal organization. Members of the nomenklatura were the emergents according to the “office-hierarchy” key.25 The mentioned “social reputation” was entitled 20

J. G. M. Hoffmann, Église et Communisme..., p. 48. Quoted after: Ɋ. ɏ. ɋɢɦɨɧɹɧ, ɗɥɢɬɚ ɢɥɢ ɜɫɟ-ɬɚɤɢ ɧɨɦɟɧɤɥɚɬɭɪɚ? (Ɋɚɡɦɵɲɥɟɧɢɹ ɨ ɪɨɫɫɢɣɫɤɨɦ ɩɪɚɜɹɳɟɦ ɫɥɨɟ), in: „Ɉɛɳɟɫɬɜɟɧɧɵɟ ɧɚɭɤɢ ɢ ɫɨɜɪɟɦɟɧɧɨɫɬɶ”, No. 2, 2009, p. 117. 22 Ɋ. ɏ. ɋɢɦɨɧɹɧ, ɗɥɢɬɚ ɢɥɢ..., p. 117. 23 Ɋ. ɏ. ɋɢɦɨɧɹɧ, ɗɥɢɬɚ ɢɥɢ..., p. 119. 24 Ɋ. ɏ. ɋɢɦɨɧɹɧ, ɗɥɢɬɚ ɢɥɢ..., p. 119. 25 Ɋ. ɏ. ɋɢɦɨɧɹɧ, ɗɥɢɬɚ ɢɥɢ…, p. 116. 21

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to them “ex officio.” As noted by Mikhail Voslenskiy, “the nomenklatura not only attributed to itself the features which are just the opposite of its true nature – they require that all admit that they possess these qualities. The nomenklatura are parasites of the moral terms that are internally alien to them.”26 Theoretically, as formally binding in the Soviet Union, within the principle of separation of church and state there were no conditions for the formation of the rules of the internal functioning of the Orthodox Church according to the key of the nomenklatura. We must remember, however, that the totalitarian nature of the Soviet system excluded the possibility of any significant and truly autonomous institutions functioning within its framework. Therefore, appointing offices in the Orthodox Church also had to be subordinated to the rigor of the approval of the “competent” side in these matters, meaning the parent bodies of state power. How this mechanism worked in practice can be seen in the example of Archbishop Mykola (Juryk) of Lviv and Ternopil (1965-1983). He was the son of a Greek Orthodox priest. In 1937 he graduated from the Uniate seminary in Stanislav and was ordained a priest. In 1945 he joined the “initiative group” headed by Fr. Havryil Kostelnyk, which was to bring the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church back to the bosom of the Orthodox Church. The future lord worked in the chancery office for Orthodox Bishop Makariy (Oksiyuk). He was met with repressions – in the years 1950-1955 he was in exile. After conditional parole, he returned to Lviv and was in charge of Transfiguration Parish. However, the local authorities decided to send him outside the city limits. In his defense stood then the bishop Lviv Palladiy (Kaminskyi) and his faithful parishioners. Requests and petitions were sent to the Council on Russian Orthodox Church Affairs, meaning to the relevant public authorities institution. It is very significant that a representative of that office next consulted on the matter by no means with a representative of the Orthodox Church, but with the administration institutions at the peripheral level. Ultimately, the case was settled by the peripheral office of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, which “decided to leave Juryk in Lviv.”27 In this case, it is clear that de facto nomination matters, even at the level of the parish, were decided by representatives of secular authority. We can also see how many of these issues depended directly on security agencies. This was evident not only to 26

Ɋ. ɏ. ɋɢɦɨɧɹɧ, ɗɥɢɬɚ ɢɥɢ…, p. 118. ȱɪɢɧɚ ɉɪɟɥɨɜɫɶɤɚ, Ⱦɿɹɥɶɧɿɫɬɶ Ɇɢɬɪɨɩɨɥɢɬɚ Ʌɶɜɿɜɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɿ Ɍɟɪɧɨɩɿɥɶɫɶɤɨɝɨ Ɇɢɤɨɥɚɹ (ɘɪɢɤɚ) (31 ɠɨɜɬɧɹ 1965 ɪ – 23 ɥɢɫɬɨɩɚɞɚ 1983 ɪ.) ɧɚ ɬɥɿ ɰɟɪɤɨɜɧɨ-ɞɟɪɠɚɜɧɢɯ ɜɿɞɧɨɫɢɧ ɞɨɛɢ «ɪɨɡɜɢɧɭɬɨɝɨ ɫɨɰɿɚɥɿɡɦɭ, in: «ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɢɣ ɜɿɫɧɢɤ», Nos. 9-10, 2004, p. 53. 27

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Fr. Juryk’s secular defenders, but also for the local superior of the Orthodox diocese, whose power was only nominal. No one particularly cared even to maintain the apparent separation of state and church. It seems that the above described history can be seen as a model example as to the operation of the structures within the ROC. The report of the Head of the Council for Religious Affairs (an agency directly subordinated to the soviet government) Vasiliy Furov from 1975 shed a lot of light on the matter. The statutory tasks of the institution which he headed included control over the activities of religious organizations, including the Orthodox Church as well. This document was intended for the directors of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, but its contents were “leaked” to the West. Thanks to this, their methods of exercising control have been disclosed. As Furov reported, the Council on Religious Cults had “total” influence on the selection and appointment of members of the Synod of the Orthodox Church. The activities of the Synod were subject to the “constant and unrelenting” control of the Council. This agency, through its confidential contacts, “exerted necessary influence on the whole episcopate through Synod members and with their help.”28 In addition, Furov reported that in her present state, the Orthodox Church is facing serious staff problems and is not able to develop. 29 Only in this context can we fully evaluate the meaning of statements such as, for example, the words by Archbishop Mykola (Juryk) of Lviv and Ternopil on the occasion of the 35th anniversary of the Lviv pseudosynod celebrated in 1981. The superior of the post-Uniate regions stated, among other things: “We live, we pray and celebrate in peace, and we owe much to the wise leadership of our country, the Soviet Union - the great fighter for peace throughout the world.”30 These words should not be taken as empty rhetoric. It seems that they perfectly reflect the underlying hierarchy’s mentality towards the Moscow patriarchy, which was formed under the nomenklatura’s mechanisms. Why did the Kremlin’s authorities choose a “new course” for the Orthodox Church in 1943? Most certainly, this decision was due to a number of reasons. Perhaps the Soviet authorities came to the conclusion that the implementation of the maximum – the construction of an atheistic society – is more difficult than expected. Indirectly, membership statistics of the League of the Militant Godless testified to this – an organization 28 Albert Boiter, Law and Religion in the Soviet Union in: “The American Journal of Comparative Law”, Vol. 35, No. 1 (Winter 1987), p. 123. 29 A. Boiter, Law and Religion…., p. 123. 30 ɋɜɹɬɨɫɥɚɜ Ʉɢɹɤ, ȱɞɟɧɬɢɱɧɿɫɬɶ ɭɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɤɚɬɨɥɢɰɢɡɦɭ: ɝɟɧɟɝɢɫ, ɩɪɨɛɥɟɦɢ, ɩɟɪɫɩɟɤɬɢɜɢ. ȱɜɚɧɨ-Ɏɪɚɧɤɿɜɫɶɤ: ɇɨɜɚ Ɂɨɪɹ, 2006, p. 211.

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that was supposed to be the vanguard of a new society without religion. In 1934, the League consisted of seven million members, and after 5 years, in spite of massive repression and a propaganda offensive, their ranks dwindled to two million people. In 1939, the League’s leadership indirectly admitted defeat, and the estimates showed that two thirds of the rural population and a third of urban dwellers would “openly hold fast to their religious beliefs.”31 As an aside, it is worth noting that there is no consensus among researchers in assessing the depth and scope of public atheization. Harvey Fireside stated that the lower clergy remained fairly resistant to the process of Sovietization.32 In 1975, Vasiliy Furov reported that the Orthodox Church was “still very much alive.”33 This finding may indicate that indeed religion was permanently inscribed in the Soviet social reality, “despite decades of intense party emphasis of creating the New Soviet Man – as politically socialist, and philosophically atheist.”34 Not much in this regard changed over the next few years, since in June 1983, the then First Secretary of the Central Committee Konstantin Chernenko, during the plenary session of the Central Committee, stated that there is still a fairly large proportion of believers who “propagate religion” and even “give it anti-Soviet and nationalist direction.”35 However, in turn, Larisa Andreyeva noted that, according to official data, a crisis of faith among nominal Orthodox believers had already started on the eve of the revolution. Even then, the faithful departed en masse from their Orthodox churches and her clergy presented a dramatically low intellectual level. Andreyeva drew attention to the very low level of “religious consciousness” among the Orthodox people who inherited the Church after the pre-revolutionary era.36 Very important in the change of the relationship between the Soviet government and the Orthodox Church was most certainly the external situation in which the Soviet Union found itself in June of 1941. The successes of Nazi troops resulted, inter alia, from a weak motivation to fight for the Stalinist regime. It was clear that the communist religion did 31

A. Boiter, Law and Religion…., p. 111. H. Fireside, Icon and Swastika…, p. 189. 33 A. Boiter, Law and Religion…., p. 123. 34 James W. Warhola, Central vs. local authority in Soviet religious affairs, 196489, in: “Journal of Church & State,” Winter 92, Vol. 34 Issue 1, p. 17. 35 ȱ. ɉɪɟɥɨɜɫɶɤɚ, Ⱦɿɹɥɶɧɿɫɬɶ Ɇɢɬɪɨɩɨɥɢɬɚ Ʌɶɜɿɜɫɶɤɨɝɨ…, p. 55. 36 Ʌɚɪɢɫɚ Ⱥɧɞɪɟɟɜɚ, ɉɪɨɰɟɫɫ ɞɟɯɪɢɫɬɢɚɧɢɡɚɰɢɢ ɜ Ɋɨɫɫɢɢ ɢ ɜɨɡɧɢɤɧɨɜɟɧɢɟ ɤɜɚɡɢɪɟɥɢɝɢɨɡɧɨɫɬɢ ɜ XXI ɜɟɤe, http://www.krotov.info/lib_sec/01_a/and/reeva_la_2.htm. 32

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not cement the ranks of the Red Army. Therefore, in exchange for their help in the mobilization of Soviet citizens to fight the Nazi invaders, Kremlin authorities gave the Church a few small concessions. Gone was the open persecution, whose goal was the physical elimination of the clergy and the faithful. The decimated Orthodox Church could legally begin to function once again, to possess a bank account, and her management could appoint bishops for various dioceses.37 In 1943, new relations between the Orthodox Church and the state were formalized. Then, later in 1943, Stalin found himself at the height of power. The fate of World War II was almost sealed. It was clear that not only would they manage to regain the territories lost in 1941, but also that the Soviet Union was going to have new regions under its control. Stalin appeared as a liberator of Europe from fascism and no longer needed to save the authority of his power with the help of the Orthodox Church. However, the Church could be used to build a positive image of the Soviet Union on the international stage. This was particularly important under the circumstances of the shaping of a new post-war, democratic order, of which the USSR was to be one of the leaders and guarantors.38 Moreover, the “new policy” towards the Moscow Patriarchate facilitated the pacification of “counter-revolutionary” sentiments among believers, and by working closely with the elected representatives of the upper hierarchy, and also thanks to their ultra-loyal attitude towards Kremlin authorities, Stalin could count on tighter control over that part of society which so far remained resistant to the atheistic efforts of the Soviet state.39 This “counter-revolutionary spirit” should be broadly understood. It not only concerns the enemies of the doctrine of submission to the Soviet authorities in the spirit of the declaration of Metropolitan Sergei I in 1927, but also, and perhaps above all, concerns the supporters of the idea of independence from the Moscow Patriarchate. We should primarily keep in mind the movement for autocephaly of the Orthodox Church in Ukraine. It was once again revived in the Ukrainian lands, which during the years of World War II came to be under German occupation,40 and 37

Anna Dickinson, A Marriage of Convenience? Domestic and Foreign Policy reasons for the 1943 Soviet Church-State ‘Concordat,’ in: “Religion, State & Society,” Vol. 28, No. 4, 2000, p. 337. 38 A. Dickinson, A Marriage of Convenience…, p. 338. 39 A. Dickinson, A Marriage of Convenience…, p. 338. 40 More on the topic of the rebirth of the Ukrainian Autocephalous Orthodox Church during World War II, see: Antoni Mironowicz, KoĞcióá prawosáawny na ziemiach polskich w XIX i XX wieku, Biaáystok: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu w Biaáymstoku, 2005, pp. 199-229,

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then became part of the Soviet Union. This is why concessions towards the Moscow Patriarchate in 1943 are to be considered not only as a reward for the loyalty of the official hierarchy towards the Stalinist regime, but a sign of the Kremlin’s fear in the face of the disloyalty of the underground religious communities that in Ukraine and Belarus went over to the German side.41 After years of persecution and physical extermination, the Orthodox Church was unable to threaten Bolshevik omnipotence. Stalin could not afford to completely destroy the Orthodox Church, since he could take advantage of it. The hierarchy, along with Sergei I as their leader, proved that in exchange for physical survival they were prepared for anything and everything.42 Total submission policies began to bring the Orthodox Church tangible benefits in her earthly, material and institutional dimensions. As a result of the Second World War, the Moscow Patriarchate gained control – directly or indirectly – of the new regions inhabited by Eastern Christians. Of particular importance for the future was the full surrender of Ukrainian lands. Traditionally, the structures of the Orthodox Church in these regions were better developed than in Russia. In particular, this concerned Ukraine’s western peripheries, which before 1939 were found outside of the USSR, especially in Poland.43 A higher level of religiosity and a better state of religious “infrastructure” – a network of parishes, the number of active shrines, the number of practicing believers and clergy resulted from the fact that so far, these lands had not experienced Sovietization, and were spared the Stalinist purges of the 30s. Ukrainian lands became the basis for the potential of the Moscow Patriarchate for the duration of Soviet power. In 1950, the western Ukrainian parishes (i.e. those which before 1939 were not subject to the Russian Orthodox Church) accounted for 35% of all the parishes belonging to the Ukrainian Exarchate and 19.1% of all the parishes that were subject to the Moscow Patriarchate.44 This data indicates that the Moscow Patriarchate in Ukraine had a lot more 41

A. Dickinson, A Marriage of…, p. 344. J. G. M. Hoffmann, Église et Communisme..., p. 47. 43 Hanna Kowalska relates that, according to data from the NKWD, in 1941 “there were 3,021 active Orthodox Churches, of which about 2,900 were present on the newly annexed USSR’s lands” – meaning the lands primarily in Eastern Ukraine and Belarus. H. Kowalska, Wspóáczesne dzieje i problemy Rosyjskiej Cerkwi Prawosáawnej, in: ĩycie religijne i duchowoĞü wspóáczesnych Sáowian, Lucjan Suchanek (ed.), Kraków: Polska Akademia UmiejĊtnoĞci, 2002, p. 10. 44 Ɇɢɤɨɥɚɣ Ʌɚɝɨɞɢɱ, Bɿɞɧɨɜɥɟɧɧɹ ɩɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɨʀ ɰɟɪɤɜɢ ɜ ɪɚɞɹɧɫɶɤɿɣ Ƚɚɥɢɱɢɧɿ, http://fmykolaj.io.ua/s36775. 42

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parishes than in the remaining region, which was under its authority. This condition persisted for much of the Soviet period. In 1965, in the western districts of the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic, 35% of all the parishes belonged to the Ukrainian Exarchate and 21% of all parishes were subordinate to the then Patriarch of Moscow Aleksiy I.45 The Russian Orthodox Church was dominated by its Ukrainian component practically to the end of the existence of the USSR. However, in the final period of the Soviet state, the above presented proportions changed somewhat. In the 80s, of about 8000 parishes subject to Pimen, the Patriarch of Moscow, 4000 were in Ukraine, of which 2000 were found in the western regions of Ukraine.46 The overall decline in the number of parishes resulted from the antireligious policy of the Soviet government, which on the one hand in 1943 entered into a “tactical alliance” with the Moscow Patriarchate, whilst on the other, almost to the very end fought against religion and sought to build an atheistic society. The Soviet State undertook a number of measures aimed at reducing the number of the faithful, to maintain effective control over religious organizations, to weaken the religious fervor of the faithful, and – most importantly from the point of view of religious life in Ukraine – “disassociation of religious and national identity.”47 After Stalin’s death, the fight against the Orthodox Church was conducted using administrative measures and propaganda. According to Soviet law and the practice of its application, it was extremely difficult to register (i.e. legalize) a new parish or to renew a previously eradicated parish community. However, the road to its formal liquidation was simple, through a combination of appropriate regulations and pressure from the administration and the apparatus of repression.48 The available evidence suggests that in Ukraine, the fight against the Orthodox Church was conducted in a particularly restrictive way. The entire region of the USSR unregistered further parish communities, but 45

Ɇ. Ʌɚɝɨɞɢɱ, Bɿɞɧɨɜɥɟɧɧɹ ɩɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɨʀ… ɇ.Ⱥ.Ȼɟɥɹɤɨɜɚ, ɂɡ ɢɫɬɨɪɢɢ ɪɟɝɢɫɬɪɚɰɢɢ ɪɟɥɢɝɢɨɡɧɵɯ ɨɛɴɟɞɢɧɟɧɢɣ ɜ ɍɤɪɚɢɧɟ ɢ Ȼɟɥɨɪɭɫɫɢɢ ɜ 1976-1986 ɝɝ. http://www.krotov.info/history/20/1980/belyakova.htm. 47 J. W. Warhola, Central vs. local authority…, p. 23; more on this subject: Ɇɚɪɬɢɪɨɥɨɝɿɹ ɭɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɢɯ ɰɟɪɤɨɜ, Vol. 1 ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɚ ɩɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɚ ɐɟɪɤɜɚ, Ɉɫɢɩ Ɂɿɧɤɟɜɢɱ, Ɉɥɟɤɫɚɧɞɪ ȼɨɪɨɧɢɧ (ed.), Toronto – Baltimore: ɋɦɨɥɨɫɤɢɩ, 1987, Vol. 2 ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɚ ɤɚɬɨɥɢɰɶɤɚ ɰɟɪɤɜɚ, Ɉ. Ɂɿɧɤɟɜɢɱ, Ɍɚɪɚɫ Ʌɨɧɱɢɧɚ (ed.), Toronto-Baltimore: ɋɦɨɥɨɫɤɢɩ, 1985. 48 ɇ.Ⱥ.Ȼɟɥɹɤɨɜɚ, ɂɡ ɢɫɬɨɪɢɢ… 46

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also from time to time new ones also appeared in the register. For example, in the period from 1977 to 1987, apart from the Ukrainian Exarchate, 64 new Orthodox parishes were registered, while in Ukraine, not one new parish was registered. This was no accident, but the result of conscious government policy in the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic. The extremely well developed structure of the Orthodox Church – in comparison with the other republics – constantly raised the concern of the communist leadership in Kiev.49 This state of affairs is perfectly illustrated by statistics, which show that in 1952 there was the densest network of parishes at the peripheries of Lviv, Ivano-Frankivsk and Ternopil, where 89% of the local villages had their own parishes. On the territories of Volyn, Rivne and Chernivtsi, this ratio was 56%, whereas in Eastern Ukraine, parish communities were found only in 36% of the villages.50 In practice, this meant that the average deanery, for example, in the Lviv district had a more complex structure (possessing more parishes) than the entire diocese in Eastern Ukraine. From the data presented above, it can be concluded that at that time, the corresponding ratio in other parts of the Patriarchate of Moscow was even lower. It should also be noted that these are figures that come from field reports of the Council on the Russian Orthodox Church Affairs, thus a source that was certainly not interested in raising Orthodox statistics. At the same time, we should remember that statistics are not enough to describe the whole truth about the condition of the Orthodox Church in the USSR. First of all, this is because they are based on official information and reports, and include communities that operated legally. However, apart from the official Orthodox Church in the Soviet state, there were religious underground activities. In other words, there functioned unofficial religious life that was at least partially beyond the control of Soviet state authorities. The best organized and most compact structure was created by the formally abolished Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church.51 49

ɋ. Ɏɢɪɫɨɜ, Ɋɭɫɫɤɚɹ ɐɟɪɤɨɜɶ… p. 54. Ɇ. Ʌɚɝɨɞɢɱ, Bɿɞɧɨɜɥɟɧɧɹ ɩɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɨʀ… 51 More on the subject of the underground period: Borys Gudziak, Switáana Hurkina, Oleh Turij, Hierarchia i duchowieĔstwo ukraiĔskiego KoĞcioáa greckokatolickiego w podziemiu, in: Polska-Ukraina. 1000 lat sąsiedztwa, Stanisáaw StĊpieĔ (ed.), Vol. 4, PrzemyĞl 1998, pp. 311-338, Bohdan Bociurkiw, The Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church and the Soviet State (1939-1950), Edmonton-Toronto: CIUS Press, 1996; Szyszlak T., Lwowskie sacrum, kijowskie profanum. Grekokatolicyzm w ukraiĔskiej przestrzeni publicznej od pierestrojki do pomaraĔczowej rewolucji, Warszawa: Polskie Towarzystwo Religioznawcze, 2012, pp. 68-101. 50

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There were also underground communities that met at various dissentions of the Orthodox Church and other illegal communities that recognized the supremacy of the Moscow Patriarchate, but the state administration refused to register them. As is apparent from the estimates of state bodies in the 80s, throughout the USSR, there were 116 such illegal communities of the Russian Orthodox Church, of which the vast majority (76) were present in Ukraine.52 It should also be kept in mind that the formal removal from the state register of a parish in many cases did not mean the actual end of religious life in the village or shrine. According to information gathered by the Department of Propaganda and Agitation of the Communist Party of Ukraine, in 1979 in the Ternopil district, Orthodox churches were still active in 65 villages, even though they were formally de-registered. On the other hand, according to the same source, in the Volyn district, people possessed the keys to most of the de-registered churches, and in 55 cases, the interiors fully kept the “tools for worship.”53 Concerning how strongly religion and the Orthodox Church took root in the public awareness in Ukraine, it can be illustrated by the number of requests and petitions for the registration of new parishes or the restoration into the register of those that had been removed from it. They influenced the Soviet state institutions, especially the Council on Religious Cults.54 Among others, the mentioned Council in 1984 received 333 petitions at the union level from Ukrainian villages, the majority from the western districts.55 The relatively high – for Soviet conditions – level of religious life was influenced by the work of such centers as Pochayiv Lavra. Despite their many efforts, the authorities failed to close it. In 1966, to celebrate the feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary, more than 3,000 people came to Pochayiv, including about 100 children. A year later, the number of pilgrims reached 5000, including 300 children. Interestingly, there were cases that representatives of the local authorities supplied the faithful on their journey to Pochayiv Lavra with additional buses.56 As has already been mentioned, the densest network of parishes existed in the districts of Lviv, Stanislav (Ivano-Frankivsk) and Ternopil, meaning the areas in which since 1946 (when it comes to Eastern 52

ɇ.Ⱥ.Ȼɟɥɹɤɨɜɚ, ɂɡ ɢɫɬɨɪɢɢ… ɇ.Ⱥ.Ȼɟɥɹɤɨɜɚ, ɂɡ ɢɫɬɨɪɢɢ… 54 ɇ.Ⱥ.Ȼɟɥɹɤɨɜɚ, ɂɡ ɢɫɬɨɪɢɢ… It is worth noting the systematic growth of the number of petitions to the Council at the union level: 1976 - 387, 1977 - 450, 1978 - 560. 55 ɇ.Ⱥ.Ȼɟɥɹɤɨɜɚ, ɂɡ ɢɫɬɨɪɢɢ… 56 ȱ. ɉɪɟɥɨɜɫɶɤɚ, Ⱦɿɹɥɶɧɿɫɬɶ Ɇɢɬɪɨɩɨɥɢɬɚ Ʌɶɜɿɜɫɶɤɨɝɨ…, p. 54. 53

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Christianity) the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church served. Suffice it to say that at the end of 1944, the Orthodox Church had 3,287 parishes on this territory, while there were only 10 Orthodox communities there (4 in the Lviv region57 and 3 in Stanisáawów and Ternopil58). As a result of the pseudo-council in Lviv and the “liquidation” of the union, the Orthodox Church not only discussed (as it finally seemed) the consequences of the events in 1596, but also “consumed” the ecclesial structure and infrastructure, which she herself after the period of Bolshevik repression would never be able to rebuild and would not be in a position to compete with. It should be noted that estimating the potential of the Uniate Church, which was taken over by her Orthodox counterpart, cannot be limited only to the number of churches and parishes, which after 1946 the Moscow Patriarchate began to rule. We should also take into account, for example, the fundamental issue for every church, meaning the number of priestly vocations. The available fragmentary data shows that all the time since 1946 to the end of the USSR, a third of the alumni in the seminaries of the Moscow Patriarchate in Leningrad, Odessa and Moscow came from Galicia (meaning post-Uniate Dioceses).59 The Moscow Patriarchate was too weak to subdue the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church. Without the help of the state, it would never have been able to do so. The events of the pseudo-council of 1946 are a perfect example of the close dependence of the Russian Orthodox Church on Soviet authorities. In the light of the source materials, we can state that the Orthodox Church was acting as part of the Soviet authority.60 In subsequent years, the liquidation of the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church and its consequences has become – especially from the perspective of the Moscow Patriarchate, a constitutive element of Soviet reality. Metropolitan Aleksiy II questioned whether activists for the legalization and renewal of the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church could at all “be called believers.”61 This line of reasoning seems to partially confirm the hypothesis by Peter Berger that religion has been the 57

Later named the Ivano-Frankivsk district. Ɇ. Ʌɚɝɨɞɢɱ, Ƚɚɥɢɰɶɤɟ ɞɢɬɢɧɫɬɜɨ «ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɨɝɨ ɜɿɫɧɢɤɚ», in: «ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɢɣ ɜɿɫɧɢɤ», ʋ 7-8, p. 55. 59 ɋ. Ʉɢɹɤ, ȱɞɟɧɬɢɱɧɿɫɬɶ ɭɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨɝɨ…, p. 199. 60 Cf. the vast source material is published in: Ʌɿɤɜɿɞɚɰɿɹ ɍȽɄɐ (1939-1946). Ⱦɨɤɭɦɟɧɬɢ ɪɚɞɹɧɫɶɤɢɯ ɨɪɝɚɧɿɜ ɞɟɪɠɚɜɧɨʀ ɛɟɡɩɟɤɢ, Vol. I, Ʉɢʀɜ, 2006. 61 Ɇɢɬɪɨɩɨɥɢɬ Ʌɟɧɢɧɝɪɚɞɫɤɢɣ ɢ ɇɨɜɝɨɪɨɞɫɤɢɣ Ⱥɥɟɤɫɢɣ, ȼɢɫɬɭɩɥɟɧɢɟ ɧɚ ɜɬɨɪɨɦ ɋɴɟɡɞɟ ɧɚɪɨɞɧɵɯ ɞɟɩɭɬɚɬɨɜ in: «ɀɭɪɧɚɥ Ɇɨɫɤɨɜɫɤɨɣ ɉɚɬɪɢɹɪɯɢɢ», No. 3/1990, p. 13. 58

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“historically most widespread and effective instrumentality of legitimation.”62 As noted by Berger, the strength of such legitimacy stems from the fact that it is extremely difficult to challenge the social order built on a set of religious justifications. Defiance of this order is “to make a compact with the primeval forces of darkness” and the rebel risks “moving into what may be called a negative reality – if one wishes, the reality of the devil.”63 Mikhail Gorbachev opened the last chapter in the relations between the Orthodox Church and the Soviet state. The basic concept of his “new thinking” on this issue is perfectly reflected by the leader of the Soviet Union at the nineteenth party conference in June 1988. Gorbachev, among others, stated then: “We do not conceal our attitude toward the religious world view as being nonmaterialistic and unscientific. But this is not reason for a disrespectful way toward the spiritual worldview of believers, and still less for applying any sort of administrative pressure for the affirmation of the materialistic views.”64 The speech by the First Secretary of the Soviet Communist Party can be seen as a harbinger of real pluralism of social lives in the USSR. However, until the demise of the Soviet empire, there was no genuine normalization of relations between the state and the Orthodox Church. This was due to several reasons. Primarily, it was because Gorbachev was strongly isolated in his epigonian idealism. In the USSR’s period of decline, among the younger generation of party activists, the reorientation of the Marxist concept of internationalism gained popularity, which was consistently professed by Gorbachev as Russian nationalism. The incorporation of the Russian Orthodox Church and the associated symbolism of the party’s ideological arsenal could help with this.65 It should be noted that here we are not dealing with the empowerment of the Orthodox Church, but using it as a tool in the search for a new legal card, which would help keep it in power. In addition, a new model of Soviet policy towards religion and religious organizations that Gorbachev promoted was often not understood among party elites at the republican and local levels. The administration and party apparatus “in the field” did not share these innovative assumptions. Konstantin Kharchev, the head of the Council on Religious Cults became convinced of this: at some point he tried to instill the “new thinking” in relations between the state and the church. His encouragement that in religious matters they begin to stick to the letter of the law (in the 62

P. L. Berger, The Sacred Canopy…, p. 32. P. L. Berger, The Sacred Canopy…, p. 39. 64 J. W. Warhola, Central vs. Local…, p. 27. 65 ȼɿɤɬɨɪ ȯɥɟɧɫɶɤɢɣ, Ɋɟɥɿɝɿɹ ɿ «ɩɟɪɟɛɭɞɨɜɚ», http://www.old.risu.org.ua/ukr/resourses/library/lis/2000/11-12_11-21/. 63

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sense: respect the rights and freedoms of the faithful) ran into a wall of reluctance on the part of local structures. In the vast majority of cases, their representatives were recruited from the previous era of Brezhnev’s “stagnation.” In their understanding, the new rules undermined the position and the political ambitions of the current establishment.66 This attitude of the representatives of the state authorities should not be a great surprise. However, the fact that Kharchev, as a precursor to the new, let’s call it liberal approach to the problem of religion, met with antiMoscow Patriarchate activity should surprise us. In late 1989, he was dismissed from the position of President of the Council on the Russian Orthodox Church Affairs in spite of the personal support that Gorbachev gave him. Probably the defeat of the last protégé leader of the USSR resulted from, among other things, the fact that “the leading hierarchs of the Russian Orthodox Church filed complaints on him to the Supreme Council behind his back.”67 It can be assumed that the representatives of the Moscow Patriarchate feared that the proposed liberalization of religious policy would undermine the foundations of their existence which were developed over years of symbiosis by Soviet authorities, and would sway the officially maintained monopoly of the Russian Orthodox Church towards a “government of Orthodox souls” in the USSR. It seems that Soviet leadership really wanted to implement a new model of the relationship between an atheistic state and the Orthodox Church. One can also assume that Gorbachev expressed not only his own intentions on this issue, but also that at least among part of the Soviet elite there was genuine need for such a “new openness.” This is evidenced by such activities as the “round table” organized at the end of 1988 by the Academy of Social Sciences of the CPSU dedicated to the issues of freedom of conscience and religion. One of the guests was the then Metropolitan Kirill (Gundiayev) of Smolensk and Vyazma. His speech highlighted the extreme resilience of the local administration to new trends in politics towards religion, which sought to promote a central approach. He said that for many representatives of local institutions of the Council on the Russian Orthodox Church Affairs, the clergy were treated as “the bearers of contrary class convinctions.” For this reason, the interpretation and manner of applying legal rules, and even the instructions of the Moscow Council on the Russian Orthodox Church Affairs were dependent on the point of view and the level of prejudice of a specific field officer.68 In addition, to the very end, at the local level lingered the belief that zeal 66

James W. Warhola, Central vs. Local…, pp. 26-27. James W. Warhola, Central vs. Local…, p. 36. 68 James W. Warhola, Central vs. Local…, p. 26. 67

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in the fight against religion is the best proof of loyalty to the central authorities (and therefore also the guarantee for maintaining their office). Thus, the administration sought to show the best statistical results, which confirmed their alleged successes in the struggle for a new atheistic society. One of these reported indicators was, for example, the number of children baptized. It is very interesting to compare the official data in this area from two districts: Ternopil and Donetsk. At first glance, the official statistics confirm the official thesis of a progressive “extinction” of religion in Soviet society. In the Ternopil Oblast between 1975 and 1985, the percentage of baptized infants fell from 36% to 12%, and in Donetsk – from 34.5% to 15.2%.69 However, fascinating is the fact that in Ternopil Oblast, where there were several times more officially active Orthodox parishes, and where the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church functioned underground, supposedly there were less baptized infants than in the Donetsk Oblast, where the structure of the Orthodox Church was in a rudimentary state, and society was much more Sovietized. The solution to this puzzle seems to be very simple. On the one hand, the clergy of the Ternopil area notoriously did not fulfill the obligation to register those granted the sacrament of baptism, and on the other hand, the administration turned a blind eye on this fact, thanks to which it could present the center with the good results in their fight against religion. We can risk stating the hypothesis that the case of the two above-mentioned districts was not a single incident, and the practice of “creative statistics” was generally used everywhere. The administration, in maintaining this fictional state, in practice made it impossible to properly assess the scale of the “religious problem” in Soviet society, and this in turn had to paralyze any effective state policy in the sphere of religious affiliation. Additionally, we should also pay attention to the fact that the greatest deviations occurred in areas where religious life – especially EasternChristianity – was best preserved, meaning primarily in Ukraine. Falsified statistics were to hide the incompetence and inefficiency of the Soviet state policy towards religion. As James Warhola rightly pointed out, action undertaken in this area by the authority never resulted in the intended goal, and often caused the opposite effect. For example, during the era of Brezhnev, there came about a period of relief, and over time the USSR as a signatory to the Final Act of the CSCE in Helsinki pledged to respect human rights. The authorities in the Kremlin sought to centralize 69

ȼɿɤɬɨɪ ȯɥɟɧɫɶɤɢɣ, Ⱦɟɪɠɚɜɚ ɿ ɰɟɪɤɜɚ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ. Ɂ ɿɫɬɨɪɿʀ ɩɟɪɟɞɤɜɿɬɧɟɜɨɝɨ ɞɜɚɞɰɹɬɢɥɿɬɬɹ (1) http://risu.org.ua/ua/library/periodicals/lis/lis_91/lis_91_01/37639/

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the state policy towards religious communities in order to avoid further scandals related to violations of freedom of conscience and religion. For this purpose, they emphasized the role of the law as a basis for development of a single religious policy. However, due to the specific Soviet way of approaching law itself, the uniquely conceived principle of “legality” was used to assimilate the new approach to the elimination of religion.70 Kharchev, in an interview in 1987, stated that some of the Council and community activists made an impact by making registration of religious communities difficult. “Administrative zeal in creating the illusion of well-being in one’s rayon or oblast [district or region] has not only concealed the real situation, but thereby damaged civic, moral, and if you like philosophical education” – said Kharchev – “Self-willed pressure has given rice conflicts about which our press informed us more than once, especially in recent years. I should say that in times the actions of local organs have led to absurdities.”71 We may dare to say that the Orthodox Church as an institution survived the Soviet period, not only because of her own stubbornness and determination, but also due to the failure of Soviet authority apparatus. Most certainly, the Russian Orthodox Church as an institution did not work against the Soviet system, but at some point to a great extent even thanks to it. It became a part of it. Of course, the hierarchy of the Moscow Patriarchate, at least up to a certain point could not count on too much goodwill on the part of the Soviet state. The most important thing was the fact that this state seemed to consistently and effectively eliminate competition for the official Orthodox Church. This was particularly evident in Ukraine, where Soviet authority and its institutions were greatly involved in fighting movements for the Autocephalic Ukrainian Orthodox Church and mostly the underground Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church.

70 71

James W. Warhola, Central vs. Local…, p. 27. James W. Warhola, Central vs. Local…, p. 27.

CHAPTER FIVE RELIGIOUS REVIVAL IN UKRAINE AND THE PROCESS OF ITS INSTITUTIONALIZATION (1989-1992)

According to Yuri Levada, the “reconstruction” of the political system in the USSR was in fact limited to a reshuffle of the highest party positions. Therefore, thanks to the introduced reforms, it was possible to conduct “competitive elections,” and there was authentic debate and a clash of differing views in the elected representative bodies, yet it was not enough to “create a new system of wielding power” and to generate “a new distribution of forces.”1 On the wave of “reconstruction,” Mikhail Gorbachev also initiated for Soviet authorities a new direction towards religion. However, in the life of the Russian Orthodox Church (ROC), the consequences of the “reconstruction” were in fact rather superficial. This is especially apparent in the example of its structures which functioned in Ukraine. The changes initiated by the Moscow Patriarchate amounted to cosmetic improvements which could not interfere with the strictly centralized nature of the whole and question the absolute hegemony of Moscow in the Orthodox space. With regard to top-down reforms – as was the case here – the attitude of elites and their actions are especially significant. In addition, as Yuri Levada rightly observes, the elitism of a given environment or group is not shaped by the people themselves, but by “their actions combined with normative-axiological and symbolic elements, ‘deities’ and myths.”2 Therefore, in the nomenklatura paradigm, not only the appointment of posts to particular people, but also the organizational culture and ensuing habits had to be negotiated with the principles and rules adopted by the 1

ɘ. Ⱥ. Ʌɟɜɚɞɚ, ɗɥɢɬɚɪɧɵɟ ɫɬɪɭɤɬɭɪɵ ɜ ɫɨɜɟɬɫɤɨɣ ɢ ɩɨɫɬɫɨɜɟɬɫɤɨɣ ɫɢɬɭɚɰɢɢ, in: “Ɉɛɳɟɫɬɜɟɧɧɵɟ ɧɚɭɤɢ ɢ ɫɨɜɪɟɦɟɧɧɨɫɬɶ”, No. 6, 2007, p. 13. 2 ɘ. Ⱥ. Ʌɟɜɚɞɚ, ɗɥɢɬɚɪɧɵɟ ɫɬɪɭɤɬɭɪɵ…, p. 6.

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“patron”: in the case of the ROC, this role was played by the state authorities. That is why Orthodox Church structures, similarly to “secular” ones, were characterized by far-reaching inertia and a lack of readiness for carrying out deeper systemic reforms. Shaped in accordance with the Orthodox-nomenklatura key, embroiled in “deep compromises” with the Soviet power, the hierarchy of the ROC turned out to be exceptionally resistant to slogans of democratization and pluralization. Although they directly referred to the secular sphere of social life, they inevitably had to leave their mark on the religious situation. Nonetheless, in Ukraine, the slogan of freedom of conscience and religion found particularly favorable conditions. Here, religious life was characterized by exceptional – for Soviet conditions – dynamics. Its sources could be traced, for example, in the activities of the catacomb Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church (UGCC). They were possible, inter alia, thanks to the exceptional determination of her followers and clergy. Greek Catholic groups did not wait for the decreed top-down liberalization of religious policy, but consistently strived to stimulate it “bottom-up.” That is why already in August 1987, “a group of Ukrainian Greek Catholics” publicly declared that they were coming out “from the underground.” The signatories of the declaration justified their decision with “more favorable conditions” which appeared as a result of the “reconstruction” and a special atmosphere which was connected with the preparations for the millenary of the baptism of Kievan Rus’.3 Indeed, the millennium celebrations can be treated first of all as “a new chapter” in relations between the Soviet authorities and the ROC. During the meeting with the members of the Holy Synod of ROC and Patriarch Pimen on April 29th 1988, Mikhail Gorbachev emphasized that the anniversary of the baptism of Kievan Rus’ has not only religious, but also a socio-political significance, because the date is an important point “on the centuries-old path of development of the native history, culture, and Russian state.” The USSR’s leader took this opportunity to highly praise the activities of the Orthodox Church targeted at supporting “the internal and foreign policy of the Soviet state.” Gorbachev expressed the conviction that “all this meets the expectations of believers.”4 3

Ɂɚɹɜɚ Ƚɪɭɩɢ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɰɿɜ Ʉɚɬɨɥɢɤɿɜ ɡ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ɋɜɹɬɿɲɨɦɭ Ɉɬɰɟɜɿ ȱɜɚɧɨɜɿɉɚɜɥɨɜɿ ȱȱ, ɉɚɩɿ Ɋɢɦɫɶɤɨɦɭ, ɜɿɞ ɽɩɢɫɤɨɩɿɜ, ɫɜɹɳɟɧɧɢɤɿɜ, ɦɨɧɚɯɿɜ, ɦɨɧɚɯɢɧɶ ɿ ɜɿɪɧɢɯ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨʀ Ʉɚɬɨɥɢɰɶɤɨʀ ɐɟɪɤɜɢ, http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/resourses/church_doc/ugcc_doc/33823/. 4 Ʌɸɛɨɜ ɉɪɨɤɨɩɱɭɤ, Ɍɪɚɧɫɮɨɪɦɚɰɿɣɧɿ ɩɪɨɰɟɫɢ ɜ ɩɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɢɯ ɤɨɧɮɟɫɿɹɯ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ɜ 90-ɬɿ ɪɨɤɢ ɏɏ ɫɬ., Ʉɢʀɜ 2005, (unpublished doctoral dissertation), p. 30.

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By referring to this anniversary, Greek Catholics destroyed the harmony on which the new formula of the party-Orthodox alliance was to be based. The members of the illegal Greek Catholic Church who were coming out of the underground also wanted to become beneficiaries of the “new thinking” advocated by Gorbachev. It was no accident that in 1989, representatives of Ukraine at the Congress of People’s Deputies of the USSR submitted an interpellation concerning the creation of a special commission dealing with the “Uniate issue.”5 Obviously, the path to the full normalization of the situation of the Greek Catholic Church in Ukraine was still undefined. However, in December 1989, after the meeting of Gorbachev and John Paul II, the legalization of the UGCC became a foregone conclusion. The problem of the renewed legalization of the Greek Catholic Church was the topic of consultations and negotiations in the triangle: the Catholic Church (especially the Vatican) – the Moscow Patriarchate – and the Kremlin authorities. Shortly after the above-mentioned meeting between Mikhail Gorbachev and the Pope, there was another meeting in Moscow between the delegations of the Russian Orthodox Church and the Vatican. The talks were confidential and focused on the future of the Uniate Church. The Orthodox Church delegation included the Exarch of Ukraine Filaret, Metropolitan Yuvenaliy (Poyarkov) and Metropolitan Kirill (Gundiayev). The hierarchs declared that they have nothing against members of the UGCC and their aspirations, but they insisted on carrying out all actions by law. At the meeting, the participants put forward the idea to establish a united commission which would deal with the most pressing problems in the spheres where there was a conflict of interest between members of the Greek Catholic and the Orthodox Church. This commission would consist of representatives of the Moscow Patriarchate, the Roman Catholic Church and representatives of the Orthodox as well as Uniate Church from the western districts of Ukraine.6 In fact, however, the restitution of the UGCC caused deep anxiety among the ROC’s hierarchs. Following the previous practice, they sought help from the Soviet authorities. Therefore, they met with the Chairman of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, Anatoliy Lukyanov. During the talks, he suggested to the dignitaries of the Moscow Patriarchate that they should conduct a referendum with secret voting in every town where there was a conflict between the Orthodox and Greek Catholic communities. This proved that the state did not feel strongly enough to still guarantee 5

ȼɿɤɬɨɪ ȯɥɟɧɫɶɤɢɣ, Ɋɟɥɿɝɿɹ ɿ «ɩɟɪɟɛɭɞɨɜɚ»… Ɉɥɶɝɚ ȼɚɫɢɥɶɟɜɚ, ɉɪɨɛɥɟɦɵ ɩɪɨɡɟɥɢɬɢɡɦɚ ɜ Ɋɨɫɫɢɢ ɤɨɧɰɚ ɏɏ ɜɟɤɚ, http://www.krotov.info/acts/20/1980/19900201.html. 6

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possession rights for the ROC in Western Ukraine. The protests of Lukyanov’s clerical interlocutors could not change this situation.7 Of course, this does not mean that the Soviet state automatically became an ally of the members of the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church, because the activities of their community also had a distinct political context. The Greek Catholic Church was very strongly connected with Ukraine’s independence movement. What is more, her crucial element was anti-communism. Therefore, it was no accident that in connection with public manifestations of the Greek Catholic Church supporters, Yuriy Reshetylo – who at the turn of the 1980s and 1990s was in Lviv as the representative of the Council for Religious Affairs at the Council of Ministers of the Ukrainian SSR – observed that among the demonstrators, there were “people who shouted slogans against the communist party,” demanded “an independent Ukraine” and “stirred up conflicts with the ROC.”8 Metropolitan Volodymyr Sternyuk, who led the Greek Catholic Church “in the catacombs” until the time of her official legalization, clearly underlined that it was imperative to distinguish between the “matters of the Greek Catholic Church” and “those of Ukraine.” At the same time, however, he explained that “the Church of Christ is not opposed to the rights of the nation, and maintains a relationship with the nation, because God created not only man, but also the nation.”9 In this way, Metropolitan Sternyuk justified the presence of national symbolism during Greek Catholic services. The legalization of the Greek Catholic community not only called into question further activities of the ROC in the territory of former Galicia. The catacomb Uniate Church became a symbol of a fight for freedom and was one of the few elements of Ukrainian identity which were not Sovietized. The strategic goal of Soviet policy in Galicia was the destruction of the organic link between the Greek Catholic ecclesial identity and the strong feeling of the national identity of local Ukrainian people. Allegedly, the voluntary return of the Greek Catholic Church to 7

Metropolitan Juvenaly concluded that the Russian Orthodox Church is multiethnic and if one would start dividing it according to the nationality rule, “there would be not enough fingers” to count the parts it would disintegrate into. He argued that “democracy becomes democracy only when there is a strong power able to put the principles of democracy into effect” – Ɉɥɶɝɚ ȼɚɫɢɥɶɟɜɚ, ɉɪɨɛɥɟɦɵ ɩɪɨɡɟɥɢɬɢɡɦɚ… 8 “əɤɟ ɠ ɛɨ ɬɨɜɚɪɢɲɭɜɚɧɧɹ ɩɪɚɜɟɞɧɨɫɬɿ ɿ ɛɟɡɡɚɤɨɧɧɹ...”, http://risu.org.ua/ua/library/periodicals/lis/lis_90/lis_90_02/37648/. 9 “...ɓɨɛ ɧɿɯɬɨ ɧɟ ɜɿɞɞɚɜ ɧɿɤɨɦɭ ɡɥɨɦ ɧɚ ɡɥɨ...”, http://risu.org.ua/ua/library/periodicals/lis/lis_91/lis_91_04/37628/.

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the bosom of the Orthodox Church, which was to take place as a result of the Lviv pseudo-council in 1946, was one of the fundamental foundation myths which were to legitimate Soviet power in the territory of the former Galicia. Despite all this, it was the biggest and best-organized institution of social life which was independent from Soviet power not only in Ukraine, but also in the whole of the USSR. Therefore, the permission to legalize it again called into question the legal validity of the communist party’s monopoly not only in the ideological sphere, but also in the power structures and in the public space. Gradual liberalization of the repressive and thus far ruthless policy towards members of the UGCC was visible at least from the aforementioned moment when they declared that they would reveal themselves and leave the catacombs in 1987. As a result, the feeling of being endangered grew and chaos intensified among local authorities. On September 28th 1988, during the meeting of the party’s council, the secretary of the district committee of the CPU (Communist Party of Ukraine) Volodymyr Honcharuk emphasized the “extremist” and “unlawful” nature of activities undertaken by supporters for the legalization of the Greek Catholic Church. He stated that “Uniates” must be prevented from gaining “the trust of the general public” and the wide-ranging action of registering Greek Catholic communities must be counteracted. “We should take a firm stand,” Honcharuk concluded, “that the revival of the Uniate Orthodox Church is detrimental in political terms and impossible in the case of Western Ukraine.”10 A week later, another apparatchik at the district level of the CPU interpreted the activities of Greek Catholic communities to legalize their communities as “abuse of the processes of democratization and transparency.”11 The above-quoted statements, albeit quite emphatic, may be nevertheless treated as manifestations of helplessness of at least some of the representatives of the partynomenklatura structures towards the “Greek Catholic issue.” The events which took place the next year proved that the issue could no longer be disregarded. On September 17th 1989, on the streets of Lviv, a manifestation took place which, according to various estimates, consisted of 250 to 300 thousand people. The participants of the march demanded religious freedom for Greek Catholics. As Bohdan Kotyk, the chairman of

10

ȼɚɫɢɥɶ ɑɭɪɚ, Ʉɨɦɩɚɪɬɚɩɚɪɚɬ ɿ ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɢɣ ɪɭɯ ɭ ɥɶɜɿɜɫɶɤɿɣ ɨɛɥɚɫɬɿ ɧɚɩɪɢɤɿɧɰɿ 80-ɯ ɪɪ. Xɏ ɫɬ. in: Ⱥɤɬɭɚɥɶɧɿ ɩɪɨɛɥɟɦɢ ɜɿɬɱɢɡɧɹɧɨʀ ɬɚ ɜɫɟɫɜɿɬɧɶɨʀ ɿɫɬɨɪɿʀ. Ɂɛɿɪɧɢɤ ɧɚɭɤɨɜɢɯ ɩɪɚɰɶ. ɇɚɭɤɨɜɿ ɡɚɩɢɫɤɢ Ɋɿɜɧɟɧɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɞɟɪɠɚɜɧɨɝɨ ɝɭɦɚɧɿɬɚɪɧɨɝɨ ɭɧɿɜɟɪɫɢɬɟɬɭ, Vol. 19, 2010, p. 87. 11 ȼ.ɑɭɪɚ Ʉɨɦɩɚɪɬɚɩɚɪɚɬ…, p. 87.

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Lviv’s authorities admitted, it was “the last warning” for decisionmakers.12 It seems that local Soviet authorities were not able to carry out an independent, coordinated and far-reaching policy towards the UGCC. Representatives of local authorities mainly focused on following orders coming from “the top.” Archive materials prove that practically until the last moment, they were mentally unable to cope with the problem of normalizing the position of the Greek Catholic Church. When the question of legalizing this Church became a foregone conclusion after the meeting of Gorbachev and Pope John Paul II in February 1990, the secretary of the Lviv City Committee of the CPU, Victor Volkov, complained about an incorrect policy towards religious issues in Galicia. He stated that in his view the decision to register Greek Catholic communities was made at least one year too late and it should have been made as soon as the first conflicts began in connection with the Uniate Church coming out from the underground.13 Reforms promoted by Gorbachev markedly widened the range of freedom, but still – at least as understood by local Soviet authorities – this freedom was to be rationed. It ought to be remembered that it was on the level of districts and regions that the fate of religious communities was decided. This is because it was here that key decisions concerning property and procedural issues were made and the registration, i.e., legalization of new parishes, depended on them. In this context, the conclusion by Yuriy Reshetylo, the state representative responsible for contacts with religious communities, is very characteristic, as he observed that “Greek Catholics have to understand that in the situation when the authorities go out to them, there is no point in artificially worsening the relations by politicizing the Orthodox Church.”14 This statement is in perfect harmony with the distinction, propagated in official mass media, between “believers who are loyal to the party and the government and the so-called extremists who do not obey the law.” Only the former should be the beneficiaries of the introduced religious freedom.15 12

Ɍɚɪɚɫ Ȼɭɛɥɢɤ, ɍɱɚɫɬɶ ɝɪɟɤɨ-ɤɚɬɨɥɢɰɶɤɨɝɨ ɦɢɪɹɧɫɬɜɚ ɭ ɪɭɫɿ ɡɚ ɥɟʉɚɥɿɡɚɰɿɸ ɍȽɄɐ: ɧɚ ɩɪɢɤɥɚɞɿ ɞɿɹɥɶɧɨɫɬɿ ɤɨɦɿɬɟɬɭ Ɂɚɯɢɫɬɭ ɍɄɐ (ɫɟɪɟɞɢɧɚ 1980-ɯ – ɩɨɱɚɬɨɤ 1990-ɯ ɪɪ.) in: ɇɚɭɤɨɜɿ ɩɪɚɰɿ ɿɫɬɨɪɢɱɧɨɝɨ ɮɚɤɭɥɶɬɟɬɭ Ɂɚɩɨɪɿɡɶɤɨɝɨ ɧɚɰɿɨɧɚɥɶɧɨɝɨ ɭɧɿɜɟɪɫɢɬɟɬɭ, 2012, Vol. XXXII, p. 308. 13 “əɤɟ ɠ ɛɨ ɬɨɜɚɪɢɲɭɜɚɧɧɹ…” 14 “əɤɟ ɠ ɛɨ ɬɨɜɚɪɢɲɭɜɚɧɧɹ…” 15 Ⱥɧɞɪɿɣ ɋɨɪɨɤɨɜɫɶɤɢɣ, ɋɬɚɧ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨʀ ɤɚɬɨɥɢɰɶɤɨʀ ɰɟɪɤɜɢ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ, in: Ɂɛɿɪɧɢɤ ɩɪɚɰɶ ɘɜɿɥɟɣɧɨɝɨ Ʉɨɧɝɪɟɫɭ, Ɇɸɧɯɟɧ: ɇɚɭɤɨɜɢɣ Ʉɨɧɝɪɟɫ ɭ 1000ɥɿɬɬɹ ɏɪɢɳɟɧɧɹ Ɋɭɫɢ-ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ 1988/1989, p. 352.

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Josyp Terelya – one of the best known Greek Catholic dissidents – claimed that the decision to legalize the Greek Catholic Church, which was underground since 1946, was practically made in 1988. From his account, and also from information leaks which reached the West, it became clear that in return, representatives of the legalized Greek Catholic structures were expected to break off their relations with the Vatican and the formal leader, Metropolitan Myroslav Lubachivskyi – who at that time was in exile.16 From the viewpoint of the Catholic Church, such plans were obviously senseless. However, looking from the perspective of the then party-state structures, they were in a way understandable. It may be supposed that in the original assumptions, the Soviet authorities were willing to permit liberalization of social life, including the religious life, but on the condition that it would happen according to the rules they would impose. First of all, the entire process was to be strictly controlled. Meanwhile, the Greek Catholic Church was too independent and it might pose a threat that its representatives would be “disloyal,” that is, they would be unwilling to limit their activities to clearly marked boundaries. Sources of this independence were rightly perceived in the links between the Greek Catholic Church with outside elements: the Vatican and Ukrainian Diaspora. Supposedly, for the authorities, one of the desirable results of the legalization of the Greek Catholic Church – if it had to happen – was to subordinate it to the processes which were stimulated and controlled from the top. As long as structures of this community reached outside – beyond the Soviet system of relations between the authorities and society and between the state and the Church – it was impossible to control. That is why it had to be perceived as a potential threat to the planned “controlled liberalization.” Among others, the ROC helped in attempting to torpedo the process of the Uniate Church leaving the underground. Evidence of this is provided by, for instance, the recommendations of the Department of Propaganda and Agitation of the Lviv District Committee of the CPU from October 1988. It is suggested there that, inter alia, as part of the fight against the Greek Catholic revival, “a number of actions should be conducted following the directives from the Soviet authorities with the purpose of more actively using the anti-Uniate attitude of the ROC on the local level.”17 This aid took on many forms. It could be in the form of material or administrative help. The latter should be understood as exceptional 16 17

Ⱥ. ɋɨɪɨɤɨɜɫɶɤɢɣ, ɋɬɚɧ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨʀ…, p. 359. ȼ.ɑɭɪɚ, Ʉɨɦɩɚɪɬɚɩɚɪɚɬ…, p. 88.

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“kindness” of state authorities during the procedure of registering new parishes, while handing over previously closed churches (which in the case of the legalization of the Greek Catholic Church were the focus of its claims) or while issuing permissions for publishing Orthodox literature in the Ukrainian language – both in the case of religious books (the Bible, prayer books, The Ukrainian Orthodox Calendar) and journalistic publications directed against “the Uniate Church.”18 In May 1987 in Lviv, a “round table” debate took place with the participation of, among others, the clergymen of the ROC: Volodymyr Yarema, Yaroslav Oshchudlyak and Vitaliy Politylo. Officially, the title of the meeting was “The Millenary of the Baptism of Rus’. History and Contemporaneity.” However, in the course of the discussion, representatives of the ROC made a great effort to convince the audience of the just canonical actions which led to the formal liquidation of the Greek Catholic Church in 1946. They also expressed regret that despite the invariably loyal attitude of their Church, the Soviet state did not pay enough attention to its current problems.19 A very intriguing fact should be observed: within a few months’ time, all of the above-mentioned Orthodox priests became involved in the movement for the autocephaly of the Orthodox Church in Ukraine under the auspices of the Ukrainian Autocephalous Orthodox Church (UAOC). Doubtlessly, the declaration of autocephaly and development of Ukrainian Orthodox structure which was independent from the Moscow Patriarchate were results of favorable political conditions. It would seem that they were shaped by the forces with which the idea of Ukrainian independence used to be identified. This mainly concerns the Narodnyi Rukh Ukrainy (People’s Movement of Ukraine), whose representatives, as a result of the 1990 elections, overcame the CPU’s monopoly on power in local authorities in districts of Western Ukraine – especially on the territory of former Galicia. The way of dealing with religious issues and connecting them with political and social problems is perfectly illustrated by the words of the chairman of the Narodnyi Rukh Ivan Drach from November 1990. He noted then that the issue of building an “independent, united Ukraine” is inextricably linked with creating an “independent Ukrainian Patriarchate.” This leader of the so-called national-democratic forces stated emphatically: “When we build one Ukrainian Home, we will

18 19

Ɍ. Ȼɭɛɥɢɤ, ɍɱɚɫɬɶ ɝɪɟɤɨ-ɤɚɬɨɥɢɰɶɤɨɝɨ ɦɢɪɹɧɫɬɜɚ…, p. 304. ȼ. ɑɭɪɚ., Ʉɨɦɩɚɪɬɚɩɚɪɚɬ…, p. 88.

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be able to build one Ukrainian temple of the Ukrainian Christian Church (…) these two tasks have to be completed at the same time.”20 A similar comment was made by Ivan Gel, a dissident and the chairman of the Committee for the Defense of the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church, established in 1987. After many years, he declared that “the idea of the Orthodox Church” is a constitutive element of “national and public life.” “I am not separating the Orthodox Church from the state,” said Gel. He also made his decision about his confessional affiliation dependent on the attitude of a given community towards Ukrainian social and national life. From this perspective, he juxtaposed activities of the Greek Catholic Church and the Ukrainian Orthodox Church Kyiv Patriarchate (UOC KP). As a result of this retrospective comparison, and because of the achievements of the UOC KP leader Filaret after 1991, he concluded that after all this time, he considered himself “a member of the Orthodox rather than Greek Catholic Church.”21 In 1990, another leader of Narodnyi Rukh Viacheslav Chornovil, at that time the president of the Council of the Lviv district and a deputy in the Supreme Soviet of the Ukrainian SSR, made a similar statement: “I believe that there will emerge a sovereign Ukrainian state, and sooner or later the nation will also come to the idea of a united Church. I also think that it will be a church independent both from Moscow and from Rome and Constantinople. I do not know what its name will be – maybe the Ukrainian Christian Church?” In the same interview, Chornovil declared that he was a person who believed “in force majeure, but not so traditionally.” He admitted that “by baptism” he belonged to the Orthodox Church, but he displayed his “sympathy” towards the idea of autocephaly as well as the Greek Catholic Church. “I am an extra-confessional type,” he stated.22 He did not see the difference between the reviving communities: the Orthodox Autocephalous and the Greek Catholic, because “both are Ukrainian.” Thus, also in the case of Chornovil, it is quite easy to observe a tendency to treat religious issues as subordinate to national and political problems. We leave aside the “purely religious” questions of differences in terms of dogmas, liturgy and canonical status between both communities. However, encouraged by the statements above, let us try to look at the UAOC and the Greek Catholic Church as institutions of social life 20

ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɚ ɰɟɪɤɜɚ ɦɿɠ ɋɯɨɞɨɦ ɿ Ɂɚɯɨɞɨɦ, ȼ. ȯɥɟɧɫɶɤɢɣ (ed.), Ʉɢʀɜ: ȱɎ ɇȺɇɍ, 1996, pp. 196-197. 21 ȱɜɚɧ Ƚɟɥɶ, ȱɧɬɟɪɜ’ɸ, http://archive.khpg.org/index.php?id=1348418185. 22 Iɞɟɹ ɽɞɧɨɫɬɿ”ɞɥɹ ɦɟɧɟ ɚɛɫɨɥɸɬɧɚ”, http://risu.org.ua/ua/library/periodicals/lis/lis_90/lis_90_10/37643/.

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engaged in the process of social and political transformation in Ukraine. Are they really the same in this respect and is that why they stimulated this process in the same direction? It could seem that the legalization and revival of both communities resulted from democratization and pluralization of the Soviet political system. Obviously, they became part of the process of building the foundations of sovereignty and independence of Ukraine’s political community. The idea of the revival of autocephaly of the Orthodox Church in Ukraine had, under Soviet conditions, the same anti-systemic character as the postulate of legalization of the underground Greek Catholic Church. However, the process of institutionalizing Autocephalous and Greek Catholic communities proceeded according to completely different principles. In contrast to what Viacheslav Chornovil claimed above, this is caused by the resulting differences, which are quite fundamental. Putting things very simply, it might be said that the way the political system in Ukraine functioned at the beginning of independence was to a large extent determined by the opposition between the nomenklatura and national-democratic options (in other words: non-nomenklatura). This part of nomenklatura, which could adjust to the conditions that emerged after the dissolution of the USSR, for the most part used the idea of state sovereignty and independence to defend its privileged position in social structure. First of all, this concerned the ability to put to appropriate use the new scope of freedom which emerged after the fall of the Empire. Both the available archive materials and the above-quoted comments of representatives of the national-democratic option prove that the Greek Catholic Church was perceived as a tool which could significantly hamper and in some fields even make impossible the “interception” of independence by nomenklatura structures. In order to properly reconstruct the role played in this system by the idea of autocephaly of the Orthodox Church in Ukraine, attempts for its institutionalization ought to be analyzed. These began in 1989. In February of that year, in Kiev, some members of the Ukrainian Culturological Club established the Initiative Committee for the Revival of the Ukrainian Autocephalous Orthodox Church. Its members were representatives of the Ukrainian intelligentsia from Kiev, including the defenders of human rights victimized during the Soviet period: Zinoviy Antonyuk and Larysa Lokhvycka. The activities of the Culturological Club were also joined by one of the most distinguished representatives of the dissident movements in Ukraine – Jevhen Sverstyuk. He also became a very close and permanent member of the autocephalous movement. Thus, as it can be

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easily observed, the idea of an independent Ukrainian Orthodox Church was revived in a clearly anti-systemic and anti-independence environment, which could suggest analogies with the movement for the legalization of the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church. This temptation will be even stronger if we take into account the fact that the Initiative Committee for the Revival of the Ukrainian Autocephalous Orthodox Church was set up as a result of the impulse provided by the Greek Catholic Church. The leader of the Committee for the Defense of the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church, Ivan Gel, was certain that there was no point in going with Uniatism to the East. “We in Galicia understood,” he explained, “that without the Ukrainian Autocephalous Orthodox Church it is not possible to create a fully independent Ukrainian state.” He also revealed that it was because of his suggestions that the sympathizers of the autocephalous movement decided to formalize their activities. He even called himself “the godfather” of the Initiative Committee for the Revival of the Ukrainian Autocephalous Orthodox Church.23 However, Fr. Vasyl Romanyuk could also be considered a pioneer of the so-called “third revival” of the UAOC. When he went to the Moscow seminary, it was after a long stay in a labor camp for being a member of the OUN (Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists) and “anti-Soviet agitation and propaganda.”24 After he received holy orders, he was sent to the parish in Kosmatch in the Ivano-Frankivsk District. In 1970, he acted in defense of the victimized Valentine Moroz. In response, the authorities dissolved the parish in Kosmatch and Romanyuk was banned from celebrating masses. Soon, he was also arrested and again sentenced to labor camp. While he was serving the sentence in 1976, he relinquished his Soviet citizenship. A year later he left the ROC and put himself at Metropolitan Mstyslav (Skrypnyk)’s disposal. He was the leader of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church in the USA, which was subordinate to the Patriarchate in Constantinople. Despite being independent in organizational terms, this community was genetically connected with the UAOC, to whose revival during World War II contributed their superiors – Metropolitans Teodorovich and Mstyslav (Skrypnyk).25 In his letter to Metropolitan Mstyslav from 1977, Fr. Romanyuk declares that “despite formally belonging to a foreign hierarchy,” he always considered himself 23

ȱ. Ƚɟɥɶ, ȱɧɬɟɪɜ’ɸ… Ɋɨɦɚɧɸɤ ȼɚɫɢɥɶ Ɉɦɟɥɹɧɨɜɢɱ (ɉɚɬɪɿɚɪɯ ȼɨɥɨɞɢɦɢɪ), http://archive.khpg.org/index.php?id=1113937541. 25 An Outline History of the Metropolia Center of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church of the USA, http://www.uocofusa.org/history.html. 24

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“a member of the UAOC.”26 He also states that because of “the enormity of crimes against peace and humanity” committed by the Soviet state, he did not feel he was its citizen for moral reasons.27 In 1987, Fr. Romanyuk left for the USA and there became involved in the activities of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church. As soon as the structures of the UAOC in Ukraine began to crystallize, he came back to his homeland in 1990 and became its hierarch. In January 1989, members of the Initiative Committee for the Revival of the Ukrainian Autocephalous Orthodox Church submitted to the Supreme Soviet of the Ukrainian SSR and to the USSR authorities an appeal for reviving the Autocephalous Orthodox Church in Ukraine. Their accusations towards the ROC included its “chauvinistic” treatment of “ethnic issues.” They underlined that people of the Ukrainian SSR “were deprived of the right to prayer, sermons and preaching in religious institutions in the Ukrainian language.” They also expressed hope that the process of reviving the Autocephalous Orthodox Church in Ukraine would be conducted legally “in accordance with constitutional guarantees relating to the freedom of conscience.”28 In their view, such a course of events would be a confirmation of the democratic direction of social transformation. However, the initiative undertaken in Kiev turned out to be illusory. It seems that during this time, the lay members of the Initiative Committee did not manage to arouse interest in autocephaly neither among the clergy29 nor representatives of the ruling nomenklatura. This issue was taken up again by the pastor of the Lviv ROC parish of St. Peter and Paul, Volodymyr Yarema. All this happened in exceptional circumstances due to the fact that it was at a time when the process of the Greek Catholic Church leaving the underground entered a decisive phase. For instance, there was a continuous growth in the number of ROC clergymen willing to join the re-emerging structures of the Uniate Church. According to unofficial data, before December 21st 1989, 200 priests had taken this step.30 In mid-1990, Greek Catholic Archbishop Volodymyr Sternyuk 26

Ɂɜɟɪɧɟɧɧɹ ɞɨ ɦɢɬɪɨɩɨɥɢɬɚ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨʀ Ⱥɜɬɨɤɟɮɚɥɶɧɨʀ ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɨʀ ɐɟɪɤɜɢ ɫɜɹɳɟɧɢɤɚ ȼ. Ɋɨɦɚɧɸɤɚ (1977 ɪɿɤ), http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/resourses/church_doc/uaoc_doc/34040/. 27 Ɂɜɟɪɧɟɧɧɹ ɞɨ ɦɢɬɪɨɩɨɥɢɬɚ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨʀ... 28 Appel pour la reconaiissance de l’Église orthodoxe autocéphale ukrainienne (janvier 1989) in: “Istina,” No. 34 (1989), p. 419. 29 Ɋɨɫɬɢɫɥɚɜ əɪɟɦɚ, ɐɟɪɤɨɜɧɵɟ ɪɚɫɤɨɥɵ ɜ ɍɤɪɚɢɧɟ, Ʉɢɟɜ: «ɍɤɪɚɢɧɫɤɢɣ ɤɥɭɛ», 2007, p. 19. 30 Ɍ. Ɍ. Ȼɭɛɥɢɤ, ɍɱɚɫɬɶ ɝɪɟɤɨ-ɤɚɬɨɥɢɰɶɤɨɝɨ ɦɢɪɹɧɫɬɜɚ…, p. 308.

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informed that out of 456 clergymen who served in his diocese there were 258 “migrants” from the ROC.31 Fr. Yarema had already begun his spiritual ministry in the Greek Catholic seminary in Lviv. He probably had personal contact with Metropolitan Sheptytsky. He was known among dissidents for his antiSoviet views.32 Despite this, however, from the viewpoint of the Soviet authorities, he could not pose any special threat. Although the development of his career in the ROC hierarchy was rather impossible, in comparison with Fr. Vasyl Romanyuk, he led a rather peaceful life throughout the whole USSR period. His participation in 1987 in the above-mentioned panel for the millenary of the baptism of Kievan Rus’ seems to confirm the relatively good relations between Fr. Yarema and the then Soviet authorities. It should be noted that the act of creating UAOC parishes, which was in a way his initiative, was also part of the strategy of local branches of state authorities undertaken in the face of the inevitably approaching decision to legalize the Greek Catholic Church. According to Ivan Gel, it was based on actively supporting, and even initiating the setting up of new Orthodox communities in places where Greek Catholic parishes might be reactivated. The details of these actions were drawn up during the consultations between representatives of the party apparatus and the KGB. One of the adopted recommendations was to “create religious committees out of trusted people (so-called ‘twenties’)” and register them as representational organs of religious communities. This especially concerned these localities where such communities were still absent and where the churches to which members of the Greek Catholic Church could claim a right remained closed. These closed Orthodox churches were to be immediately given over to “newly established Orthodox communities.”33 In this way, as Gel stated, began the process of the “Orthodoxization of communists.”34 Although the directives advised the Soviet authorities to give “full support” to ROC communities,35 there is a lot to prove the supposition that this support was also extended to the emerging UAOC. It ought to be remembered that residents of the former Galicia – especially sympathizers of the Greek Catholic Church – were very biased against Muscovite domination on this territory. The ROC was an exceptionally prominent symbol in this respect. And this was a sufficient 31

Ɍ. Ȼɭɛɥɢɤ, ɍɱɚɫɬɶ ɝɪɟɤɨ-ɤɚɬɨɥɢɰɶɤɨɝɨ ɦɢɪɹɧɫɬɜɚ…, p. 308. Ɋ. əɪɟɦɚ, ɐɟɪɤɨɜɧɵɟ ɪɚɫɤɨɥɵ…, p. 19. 33 ȱ. Ƚɟɥɶ, ȱɧɬɟɪɜ’ɸ… 34 ȱ. Ƚɟɥɶ, ȱɧɬɟɪɜ’ɸ… 35 ȱ. Ƚɟɥɶ, ȱɧɬɟɪɜ’ɸ… 32

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reason for the difficulty in counting on it as an effective antidote against the dangers connected with the legalization of the underground Uniate Church. Quite the opposite, the pestering support for the ROC could bring results which could simply backfire on party-nomenklatura structures. Under such circumstances, in February 1989, Fr. Yarema, still a clergyman subordinate to the Moscow Patriarchate, submitted an open letter to Metropolitan of Kiev Filaret, the leader of this Patriarchate’s structures in Ukraine. In his message, Fr. Yarema emphasizes that he writes it as “a clergyman of the Christian Orthodox Church” and not as “a servant of the Orthodox-political regime which was called the Russian Orthodox Church.” The author also underlines that he is not writing as a Uniate, because he has been serving in the Orthodox Church for forty years.36 As he cares for the future fate of the Orthodox Church, he decided to direct Metropolitan Filaret’s attention to the harmfulness of the strategy calculated to maintain status quo in the Orthodox Church in Ukraine, which was based on its unconditional subordination to the Moscow Patriarchate. In general, three crucial issues can be distinguished in the discussed open letter. The first one can be termed national. Fr. Yarema expresses his conviction about the necessity of the Ukrainization of the Orthodox Church. He emphasizes that “the Moscow Patriarch ignores the existence of the great Ukrainian nation, the autonomy of Ukrainian religious thought, tradition, customs and culture.” He also asks rhetorically: “if Orthodox Ukrainians are Russified even in Poland and Czechoslovakia, why should we follow those who try to denationalize us, who hate us?” The second issue concerns the comparison of the Orthodox Church, which was alienated and plunged into internal crisis, with the dynamically re-emerging Greek Catholic community. According to Fr. Yarema, many bishops of the Moscow Patriarchate are unmannered, proud and unapproachable, which contradicts the traits of “a good shepherd.” “Many of them would be suited to work in militia” – we can read in the letter. As the Lviv clergyman claims, these hierarchs “execute the will of the Patriarchate,” but it is not “God’s will.” Similarly, it is pointless to look for it in “diocesan procedures which were laid down by atheist organs.” Because of them, bishops from “Christ’s apostles” turned into “administrators-bureaucrats.” In his conclusion, Fr. Yarema emphasizes 36 ȼɿɞɤɪɢɬɢɣ ɥɢɫɬ ɩɪɨɬɨɽɪɟɹ ȼɨɥɨɞɢɦɢɪɚ əɪɟɦɢ ɞɨ ɦɢɬɪɨɩɨɥɢɬɚ ɤɢʀɜɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɿ ɝɚɥɢɰɶɤɨɝɨ Ɏɿɥɚɪɟɬɚ, ɩɚɬɪɿɚɪɲɨɝɨ ɟɤɡɚɪɯɚ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ (1989), http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/resourses/church_doc/uaoc_doc/34042/; all other quotations from the letter by Fr. Yarema to Metropolitan Filaret are from this source.

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that “there are very few examples which would inspire sympathy towards the Russian Orthodox Church.” In his view, when compared with the aforesaid clergymen, “Uniates seem much more serious, cultured, they can be an example.” They endured the period of persecution and “are heroes,” while members of the Orthodox Church, who “have no right to say anything in their own defense,” are like “slaves.” The author of the letter points out that “Uniates celebrate masses in the Ukrainian language; on the radio you can hear a Ukrainian mass, a Ukrainian sermon and music by Ukrainian composers.” He also shares his impressions from the millenary celebrations of the baptism in Kiev. According to him, during the celebrations one could feel the spirit of “one, indivisible Russia.” He also takes an opportunity to refer to the situation of Ukrainian Catholics when he writes: “there is nothing for us to look for in Kiev if the Pope, a foreigner, speaks in the Ukrainian language and the exarch of Ukraine – does not want to.” However, what is exceptionally important in the discussed letter is the third issue – the defense of the legal validity of the Lviv pseudo-council from 1946 and the rehabilitation of its formal organizers. According to Fr. Yarema, the purpose of actions undertaken by the members of the socalled “initiative group,” used by NKVD during the organization of the “council,” was not “captivity” but a union of faith. The Lviv clergyman presents the leader of this group, Havryil Kostelnyk, as a defender of “the rights of our Orthodox Church, native customs and rituals.” He suggests that the “initiative group” and the Moscow Patriarchate had a special agreement which defined the terms of “unification.” However, it turned out that Fr. Kostelnyk was cheated by the “forsworn” Patriarch and other “high-ranking officials.” Then, as Fr. Yarema claims, everyone that knew the contents of the agreement on the conditions of breaking off the union was assassinated and the documents of the initiative group were taken “so that no one could learn about the details of the agreement and could not refer to them.” From this perspective, members of the so-called initiative group are only the cheated victims of the Stalinist anti-Ukrainian policy, and the pseudo-council which took place in 1946 was to be originally the conclusion of the process of the emancipation of Ukrainians in Galicia from the influence of Latinization and the Vatican. Confronting this reasoning with the facts already known at that time (imprisonments of Greek Catholic hierarchs before the pseudo-council, victimization of the rebellious clergy, the involvement of NKVD organs) and with the later-revealed archive materials mercilessly exposes its extreme naïvety. It seems that in the discussed open letter, on the one hand, the author articulates his honest desire that the process of Ukrainian

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national revival should be actively joined. On the other, the letter expresses the need for legitimating his former service in the ROC in Galicia and, in general, his willingness to validate the presence of the Orthodox Church on this territory. Additionally, it should be observed that such a principled defense of the Lviv pseudo-council inevitably had to arouse protests of followers and clergy of the catacombed Greek Catholic Church and was a potential trigger for conflicts. A lesser known document is worth mentioning here, which was drawn up shortly before Fr. Yarema’s letter. In January 1989, another ROC clergyman, Mykhailo Nyskohuz, pastor of the parish in the village of Stara Sil in the region of Staryi Sambir, wrote a declaration where at the beginning he expresses the hope for the future unification of Ukrainian followers of the Orthodox and Greek Catholic Churches.37 First of all, however, Fr. Nyskohuz focuses on problems connected with the introduced liberalization of state policy towards religious associations. He points out the discrepancies between the rules which were in effect during the registration of new parishes and the actual practice in Ukraine. According to new guidelines, for the legalization of a new community, it was theoretically enough to submit an appropriate declaration of a twentyperson “founding group.” Meanwhile, the authorities in the Ukrainian SSR, which – as Fr. Nyskohuz notes – display a “conservative and reactionary” attitude towards the reconstruction, tried to artificially hamper the institutionalization of religious revival with administrative means. That is why during the registration procedure of new parishes additional “certificates” began to be required from local organs of Soviet authorities. In this way, it was possible to arbitrarily influence the process of forming new religious structures. The author of the declaration points out an interesting interrelation. In the places where clergymen of the still formally illegal Greek Catholic Church began to act on the principle of “fait accompli”, i.e., they began to celebrate the liturgy in formally closed churches, Soviet authorities instantly decided to register an Orthodox community even without waiting for the submission of the required application from 20 followers.38 On this basis, we can make inferences about the strategy of local nomenklatura towards the inevitable liberalization of religious policy. The logic of action points to the intention of setting the so-far operative structures of the Orthodox Church against the Greek Catholic Church, which was coming out of catacombs. It is also confirmed by a quite 37

Une paroisse ukrainienne orthodoxe fait acte d’adhesion à l’Église catholique unie (6 mai 1989), in: “Istina,” No. 34 (1989), p. 420. 38 Une paroisse ukrainienne …, p. 421.

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symptomatic sequence of events which took place in the following months. In September 1989, during the rally in the center of Lviv, Viacheslav Chornovil gave a speech on behalf of the Ukrainian Helsinki Group. He called for supporting the idea of the revival of the UAOC. At the same time, however, he emphasized the “necessity of brotherly coexistence in Galicia and the whole Ukraine” of the revived autocephalous community and the Greek Catholic Church coming out from underground. At the turn of February and March of the next year, also in Lviv, when the “exodus” of the ROC clergy to the Uniate community was beginning, a solemn mass took place in connection with the 175th anniversary of Taras Shevchenko’s birth. Between 25 and 30 thousand followers gathered, and the mass was concelebrated by two clergymen: ROC member Fr. Nyskohuz and Mykhailo Voloshyn from the still underground Greek Catholic Church. At the end of the mass, both priests gave each other a sign of Christ’s peace and declared that both Orthodox Churches “always strived for coexistence in peace and mutual respect,” which, as they said, met with counteractions from the state authorities. In the view of both clergymen, it was the outer-Orthodox factors which were responsible for the still ongoing divisions.39 Also, during those days, the above-discussed Fr. Yarema’s letter reached the public. The glorification of the deeds of Fr. Havryil Kostelnyk and the other members of the so-called “initiative group” who were behind the liquidation of the Greek Catholic Church in 1946, at the very start cast doubts on the possibility of a consensus and cooperation between supporters of autocephaly and groups associated with the Greek Catholic Church. And this undoubtedly was convenient for the authors of the strategy to support the Orthodox Church as a counterbalance for the Greek Catholic Church emerging from the catacombs. It seems that the logic of these actions was quite well presented in a detailed article published in February 1989 in the “Izvestia” newspaper. The author – a perceptive observer of religious life in Ukraine – notes that “among the followers, there are many who do not really think about the differences between Eastern Catholicism and the Orthodox Church.” Similarly, they mostly do not care where the “real spiritual center” actually lies – in Rome or in Moscow. From their perspective, the crucial problem is the distance between the nearest church and their home. That is why “those who yesterday turned to Uniate priests can today submit to the Orthodox Church and they will be fully satisfied with this new possibility of the

39

Une paroisse ukrainienne …, p. 422.

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respectable fulfillment of their religious needs.”40 In the reality of Western Ukraine, however, due to purposeful actions of the Soviet authorities, followers not so much “could” but had to accept the necessity of “fulfilling” their religious needs within the structures of the Orthodox Church. The legally binding formal-legal consequences of the Lviv pseudo-council from 1946 provided a convenient pretext with the help of which the registration of the emerging Greek Catholic communities was blocked. At the same time, there were attempts to channel the results of the liberalization of religious policy introduced in 1988 by massively issuing decisions to register Orthodox communities, and then giving churches over to them. On February 1st 1989, the president of the Council of Religious Affairs of the Ukrainian SSR announced that in the previous year, 430 churches were reopened in Ukraine. The vast majority of the reactivated parishes were in the ex-Uniate territory41 and the property given to them, until 1946, belonged to the Greek Catholic Church. At the same time, the activists of the re-emerging Uniate communities were given administrative penalties.42 In conflict situations, representatives of local Soviet authorities actively supported the Orthodox side. However, there are known cases when this alliance turned out to be ineffective in the face of the determined stance of local communities that identified with the Greek Catholic Church.43 In the critical period of 1989-1990, three tendencies could be distinguished in Galicia’s religious life which so dynamically began to enter the public sphere. The first was represented by the official ROC. Its structures were fully dependent on the Soviet party-state apparatus, thanks to which they remained predictable and subject to outer containment. However, the hierarchy of the ROC seemed to consistently ignore the symptoms of the collapse and disintegration of the Soviet state. In return for loyalty towards its authorities, it still expected effective protection. For example, in the face of the dynamic and at times tumultuous process of taking over churches by Greek Catholics coming out from the underground at the beginning of 1990, Metropolitan of Leningrad and Novgorod Aleksiy – the later Patriarch Aleksyi II – made a statement at the forum of the 2nd Congress of People’s Deputies of the USSR. He 40 Qtd. after: Attribution de 430 églises catholiques ukrainiennes au culte orthodoxe au cours de l’année du Millénaire, in: “Istina,” No. 34 (1989), p. 426. 41 Attribution de 430 églises…, p. 424. 42 Attribution de 430 églises…, p. 425. 43 This was, for instance, the case with the town of Stara Sil, where a conflict broke out because the parish there officially became Greek Catholic. – Une paroisse ukrainienne …, p. 423.

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appealed to the authorities of the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic and to “the Soviet leadership in the districts of Lviv, Ternopil and IvanoFrankivsk” to “take all possible steps in order to counteract the breaking of the law and the tragic course of events whose far-reaching consequences are impossible to predict.”44 It was no accident that the Metropolitan saw as his partners the party-nomenklatura “hardliners” on the level of districts and republics, and not the supporters of Gorbachev disposed towards the “new thinking.” Both the secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union and the ideas he promoted were a threat to the system in which the Russian Orthodox Church took root. The Metropolitan’s words are also a classic example of “Soviet legalism” in which the slogan of defending the operative legal order was not a reference to civil liberties and freedoms contained in constitutional norms but a pretext for reprisals. Sometime later, representatives of the Moscow Patriarchate met with the chairman of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR Lukyanov and expressed their concern about the situation in Western Ukraine, which was a consequence of the disclosure of the Greek Catholic Church – in other words, a result of putting into effect the ideological premises of perestroika and the “new thinking.” The development of the meeting proved that until the very end, and against external conditions, the Orthodox hierarchy struggled to hold on to the principles formulated in 1927 by Sergei I, and later particularized by the “agreement” concluded in 1943 and the ensuing everyday practice. The second tendency which shaped reality not only in the religious, but also in the social sphere, was connected with the re-emerging Greek Catholic Church. It was an anti-systemic force due to the firm rejection of communism and because it attracted dissident groups. However, the antisystemic nature of the Greek Catholic Church was reflected not only on the doctrinal level, but also on the institutional level. It was in no way connected with the operative nomenklatura system. The Greek Catholic Church was independent from it. It could be expected that its legalization would lead to a number of radical changes which in some parts would turn the then order “upside down.” These would include: the restitution and repossession of property, arousing attitudes for independence and the end of the nomenklatura’s monopolistic position in local Soviet authorities. In this context, “the third option” must have seemed quite attractive to at least some representatives of the Soviet state apparatus. This option could be identified with Fr. Yarema’s initiative and the idea of creating the 44

Ɇɢɬɪɨɩɨɥɢɬ Ʌɟɧɢɧɝɪɚɞɫɤɢɣ ɢ ɇɨɜɝɨɪɨɞɫɤɢɣ Ⱥɥɟɤɫɢɣ, ȼɢɫɬɭɩɥɟɧɢɟ ɧɚ ɜɬɨɪɨɦ ɋɴɟɡɞɟ ɧɚɪɨɞɧɵɯ ɞɟɩɭɬɚɬɨɜ ɋɋɋɊ in: «ɀɭɪɧɚɥ Ɇɨɫɤɨɜɫɤɨɣ ɉɚɬɪɢɹɪɯɢɢ», No. 3/1990, p. 13.

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Autocephalous Orthodox Church. First of all, it met with the needs of the authors of the strategy to support the Orthodox Church as a counterbalance for the Greek Catholic Church, which was coming out of the catacombs. Due to the position of the author of the above-discussed open letter, the national slogans did not sound so threatening. First of all, because in a way, Fr. Yarema could be perceived as a “friend.” Being a pastor of a prominent parish, willingly or not, he had to function within the system of the Soviet nomenklatura – except for the fact that it was within a rather specific realm of the Orthodox Church. It should be highlighted that Fr. Yarema was undoubtedly an extraordinary figure among the representatives of the ROC clergy. He refused to cooperate with the Soviet security organs.45 Due to his “nationalistic” views, he was expelled from the Seminary in Leningrad.46 At the same time, it would also be hard to suppose that Fr. Yarema could have become the pastor of St. Peter and Paul’s parish in Lviv if he avoided the nomenklatura order. That is why his letter may be considered to be one of the attempts to solve the dilemma typical of nomenklatura groups: how to combine norms and structures formed in the Soviet period with the newly emerging social order which was being born as a result of devolutionary aspirations and reforms imposed by Moscow. On the one hand, we were dealing with the determined stance of the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church. In January 1990, the council of bishops, clergy and representatives of followers of the UGCC openly “rejected and considered non-existent the so-called Lviv Council of 1946,” during which the Greek Catholic Church “allegedly liquidated itself and became part of the ROC.”47 Due to this, council participants emphasized the necessity for restitution to “the rightful and historical owner, i.e., UGCC,” of the churches and monastery buildings which at that time were in the hands of ROC and “other entities.”48 The official ROC hierarchy in Ukraine, represented by Kiev Metropolitan Filaret, took an opposing stance. In an interview from 1989, the Metropolitan stressed that the so-called Lviv pseudo-council from 1946 was “fully canonical” and its decisions found general approval. 45

+ Ⱦɢɦɢɬɪɿɣ (əɪɟɦɚ) (1915-2000), http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/reference/persons/~Ⱦ/33657/ 46 + Ⱦɢɦɢɬɪɿɣ (əɪɟɦɚ)... 47 ɉɨɫɬɚɧɨɜɢ ɋɨɛɨɪɭ ɽɩɢɫɤɨɩɿɜ, ɞɭɯɨɜɟɧɫɬɜɚ ɬɚ ɩɪɟɞɫɬɚɜɧɢɤɿɜ ɦɢɪɹɧ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɤɨʀ Ƚɪɟɤɨ-Ʉɚɬɨɥɢɰɶɤɨʀ ɐɟɪɤɜɢ, ɳɨ ɜɿɞɛɭɜɫɹ ɞɧɹ 23 ɫɿɱɧɹ ɪɨɤɭ Ȼɨɠɨɝɨ 1990 ɭ Ʌɶɜɨɜɿ in: ɋɨɰɿɚɥɶɧɨ ɡɨɪɿɽɧɬɨɜɚɧɿ ɞɨɤɭɦɟɧɬɢ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨʀ Ƚɪɟɤɨɤɚɬɨɥɢɰɶɤɨʀ ɐɟɪɤɜɢ (1989-2008), Ʌɶɜɿɜ: ȼɢɞɚɜɧɢɰɬɜɨ ɍɄɍ, 2008, p. 7. 48 ɉɨɫɬɚɧɨɜɢ ɋɨɛɨɪɭ ɽɩɢɫɤɨɩɿɜ, ɞɭɯɨɜɟɧɫɬɜɚ…

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According to him, the last impulse for the final liquidation of the Greek Catholic Church and “unification with the ROC” was the incorporation of the West Ukrainian territory to Soviet Ukraine.49 In his view, it was an additional factor which finally determined the legitimacy of liquidating the Greek Catholic Church. More or less at the same time, Metropolitan Filaret sent a letter to the editors of “Moskovskije Novosti.” He explained there that Greek Catholics in no way should be considered “victims of Stalin’s reprisals” and that the hierarchy of this Church disgraced itself “in the eyes of common followers and clergy” during World War II due to “cooperation with the fascist occupation regime and Bandera’s nationalist groups.” Its renewed revival – according to Metropolitan Filaret – was artificially inspired from outside and was based on activities of “a small group of Uniates” who wanted to “separate thousands of parishes and millions of followers from the ROC.”50 A few months later, in connection with the decision of the Kremlin authorities to legalize the Greek Catholic Church, Metropolitan Filaret softened his uncompromising stance on the “Uniate issue.” He was ready to grant “Catholics of the Eastern Rite” the right to “practice their religion openly and legally.” At the same time, however, this right was used as an argument in defense of the property rights of structures subordinate to the Moscow Patriarchate in Galicia, i.e., in defense of the status quo formed during the Soviet period. In his view, in the new situation, the ROC had the role of “the guarantor of the spiritual unity of the Ukrainian nation.”51 From this perspective, the so-called Lviv pseudo-council from 1946 was supposed to seal this unity. According to Metropolitan Filaret, the council made “millions of Greek Catholics reunite with the Orthodox Church.” In his view, the “council” inspired by the NKVD was to constitute “an organic and natural act in the centuries-old struggle for the comeback to their ancestors’ faith, for national revival, for the unity of the Ukrainian nation.”52

49

ȱɧɬɟɪɜ’ɸ ɡ ɦɢɬɪɨɩɨɥɢɬɨɦ Ɏɿɥɚɪɟɬɨɦ (1989), http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/resourses/church_doc/uocmp_doc/34685/. 50 Ɋɭɫɫɤɚɹ ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɚɹ ɐɟɪɤɨɜɶ ɜ ɫɨɜɟɬɫɤɨɟ ɜɪɟɦɹ (1917-1991), Ƚɟɪɞ ɒɬɪɢɤɤɟɪ (ed.), Ɇɨɫɤɜɚ: "ɉɪɨɩɢɥɟɢ", 1995, pp. 354-355. 51 Ⱦɨɩɨɜɿɞɶ ɉɚɬɪɿɚɪɲɨɝɨ ɦɿɫɰɟɛɥɸɫɬɢɬɟɥɹ ȼɢɫɨɤɨɩɪɟɨɫɜɹɳɟɧɧɨɝɨ Ɏɿɥɚɪɟɬɚ, ɦɢɬɪɨɩɨɥɢɬɚ Ʉɢʀɜɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɿ Ƚɚɥɢɰɶɤɨɝɨ, ȿɤɡɚɪɯɚ ɜɫɿɽʀ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ, ɧɚ ɉɨɦɿɫɧɨɦɭ ɋɨɛɨɪɿ 7 ɱɟɪɜɧɹ 1990 ɪɨɤɭ, http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/resourses/church_doc/uocmp_doc/34689/. 52 Ⱦɨɩɨɜɿɞɶ ɉɚɬɪɿɚɪɲɨɝɨ ɦɿɫɰɟɛɥɸɫɬɢɬɟɥɹ…,

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The new situation required new narration on the subject of the origin of ROC structures on the territory where until 1946 the Greek Catholic Church was practically absolutely dominant among Ukrainian people. Until that time, the decisions of the Lviv pseudo-council were presented as an act of the Uniates’ comeback to the bosom of the mother Orthodox Church. The new formula, demonstrated by Metropolitan Filaret, was enriched with the element of the alleged national unification which Ukrainians were supposed to experience thanks to the liquidation of the Greek Catholic Church. This was the reason why, due to the concern about “the unity of the Ukrainian nation,” the decisions of the Lviv pseudocouncil had to remain in force. This continuation should prevent Greek Catholics from separating Galicia “not only from Moscow, but also from Kiev.”53 This was the way in which Filaret attempted to combine the Soviet past and new reality which took shape in the face of the dissolution of the USSR. In his letter to Metropolitan Filaret, Fr. Yarema adopted a slightly different strategy. He also combined the acknowledgement of the legal validity of the Lviv pseudo-council (held de facto by the Soviet authorities) with the engagement in Ukrainian national revival and building the foundations of Ukrainian independence. In contrast to Filaret, however, he believed that the Moscow Partiarchate structures in Ukraine posed a threat to Ukrainian independence. Full independence could only be achieved through autocephaly. This way of thinking was reflected in the decisions of the first UAOC council, which took place on June 5th and 6th 1990. A few characteristic issues were highlighted by these decisions. For example, the council demanded that the state authorities hand over to the newly-established revived Autocephalous Orthodox Church not only the most important Orthodox churches, but also the property of the Greek Catholic Church confiscated by the Soviet state.54 At this point, worth noting is a peculiar ambivalence in squaring up with Stalin’s reprisals. In some areas, the idea of autocephaly was used as a reason for condemning them. In other cases, the same idea enabled treating the consumption of the fruits of these reprisals practically as an act of historic justice. The aforementioned documents show that during the council the Autocephalous Church, “unlawfully liquidated in 1930 during the first

53

Ⱦɨɩɨɜɿɞɶ ɉɚɬɪɿɚɪɲɨɝɨ ɦɿɫɰɟɛɥɸɫɬɢɬɟɥɹ… They demanded, for instance, to be given the monastery in Univ - Ⱦɿɹɧɧɹ ɩɟɪɲɨɝɨ ɩɨɦɿɫɧɨɝɨ ɫɨɛɨɪɭ ɍȺɉɐ 5-6 ɱɟɪɜɧɹ 1990 ɪɨɤɭ, http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/resourses/church_doc/uaoc_doc/34059/. 54

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wave of Stalin’s terror,” was revived.55 Therefore, the participants of the council demanded the rehabilitation of victimized clergy and restitution of the property confiscated by the “Stalinist regime.” It seems that this antiStalinist rhetoric was a peculiar image stratagem thanks to which not the idea of autocephaly per se, but people engaged in its realization wanted to build or improve their “social reputation.” It was at this time that autocephalous structures were limited to West Ukrainian territory, which in fact did not suffer from Stalin’s reprisals of the 1930s. However, in the documents we are discussing, one will not find a single mention of the terror used to introduce the Soviet order in former Galicia, and importantly, part of that order was the pseudo-council of Lviv in 1946. Objectively, it should be noted that the UAOC, which was revived in 1989, actually exploited the status quo which emerged as a result of the formal dissolution of the Greek Catholic Church. Additionally, as Irina Prelovska observes, during the time of the Revolution, the Autocephalous Church received churches from “Bolshevik commissars who after rising to power made all Orthodox Church property their own and then rented it out to these communities which managed to register with them.”56 The path undertaken by Metropolitan Filaret suffered a complete defeat. Statistics are quite revealing in this respect. There were 1,394 registered ROC parishes in three districts – Lviv, Ivano-Frankivsk and Ternopil – at the beginning of 1990.57 Meanwhile, two years later only 18 parishes remained there under the supervision of Metropolitan Filaret of Kiev, i.e., within the ROC structures.58 In August 1989, Fr. Yarema and his Lviv parish officially left the structures of the ROC and joined the emigrant UAOC which operated in North America. Its leader was Metropolitan Mstyslav (Skrypnyk). We leave aside the issue of the canonicity of this step. From our perspective, it is important that at the very start of building the new autocephalous community, support for this initiative was sought in an environment that was not burdened by those functioning under Soviet conditions and by compromises which were inevitable within the institutional dimension of religious life. Mstyslav devoted most of his life to the idea of the 55

Ⱦɿɹɧɧɹ ɩɟɪɲɨɝɨ ɩɨɦɿɫɧɨɝɨ ɫɨɛɨɪɭ… ȱɪɢɧɚ ɉɪɟɥɨɜɫɶɤɚ, ȼɫɟɭɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɢɣ ɩɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɢɣ ɰɟɪɤɨɜɧɢɣ ɫɨɛɨɪ 5-6 ɱɟɪɜɧɹ 1990 ɪɨɤɭ: ɞɨ ɩɢɬɚɧɧɹ ɩɪɨ ɜɢɜɱɟɧɧɹ ɞɨɤɭɦɟɧɬɚɥɶɧɢɯ ɞɠɟɪɟɥ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨʀ Ⱥɜɬɨɤɟɮɚɥɶɧɨʀ ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɨʀ ɐɟɪɤɜɢ in: «ȱɫɬɨɪɿɹ ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ», 2010, Vol. II, p. 806. 57 Ⱥɧɞɪɿɣ ɘɪɚɲ, ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜ’ɹ ɿ ɤɚɬɨɥɢɰɢɡɦ ɭ ɫɭɱɚɫɧɿɣ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ: ɿɞɟɨɥɨɝɿɱɧɿ ɦɿɮɢ ɿ ɪɟɚɥɿʀ ɜɡɚɽɦɨɞɿʀ «Ʌɸɞɢɧɚ ɿ ɋɜɿɬ» No. 10 (529), 2004, p. 19. 58 Ɋɭɫɫɤɚɹ ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɚɹ ɐɟɪɤɨɜɶ ɜ ɫɨɜɟɬɫɤɨɟ…, p. 350. 56

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Ukrainian independent Orthodox Church. He was a living symbol of Ukrainian aspirations for independence and, most importantly of all, he came from outside the nomenklatura system. Without a doubt, after Fr. Yarema’s decision, the process of institutionalizing autocephaly gained momentum – first of all, on the territory of Western Ukraine. At the beginning of October 1989, the then hierarch of the ROC Ioann (Bodnarchuk) officially left the structures of the Moscow Patriarchate and joined the emerging Autocephalous Orthodox Church in Ukraine. He justified his accession to the UAOC by his willingness to fight for a “free” Ukrainian Orthodox Church, which would be “independent from the dictate of atheist authorities.”59 Formally, it remained under the authority of Metropolitan Mstyslav (Skrypnyk), but in fact the new community was led by the aforesaid Ioann (Bodnarchuk), who soon received the title of “Metropolitan of Lviv and Halytch.” He was “behind” the first hierarchs of the newly-established community. From our perspective, the moment when this former ROC hierarch became the actual leader of the UAOC was crucial for the further process of institutionalizing Ukrainian autocephaly. Very quickly it became clear that the nominal leader of the new community, Mstyslav (Skrypnyk) – who was appointed the new Patriarch of Kiev – did not have any practical influence on the community with which he was entrusted. At the very beginning, it turned out that in fact he was to legitimize the nomenklatura character of the emerging organization. It should be noted that the formal leader of the UAOC was deprived of the influence on the development of the process of shaping the structures of his community, because he had no visa. The Soviet authorities did not issue it until October 1990, after the first bishops of UAOC were very hastily ordained. There is a lack of definite evidence that could help to determine whether there was a purpose behind the sluggishness while Patriarch Mstyslav (Skrypnyk) was waiting for his visa. Nonetheless, it can be safely assumed that if for some reason the Soviet authorities really wanted his presence in Ukraine in these key months, there would have been no problems with the swift acquisition of his visa. Soon after being admitted into Ukraine and ceremoniously enthroned in St. Sophia Cathedral, the formal leader of the UAOC verified the legal validity of his holy orders as bishop given under the leadership of Metropolitan Ioann (Bodnarchuk). He removed him from direct leadership over the community. This task was consigned to young bishop Anthony 59 ɂɨɚɧɧ Ȼɨɞɧɚɪɱɭɤ, http://krotov.info/spravki/history_bio/20_bio/bodnarchuk.html

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(Masendich). However, Patriarch Mstyslav (Skrypnyk) was unable to gain effective control over his Orthodox Church. An analysis of later events which took place in 1992 leaves no illusions about this. Meanwhile, at the end of January 1990, the then exarchate of the ROC in Ukraine was renamed the Ukrainian Orthodox Church. However, practically the same organizational structure remained under the new name. The Synod of the UOC was still subordinate to the Synod of the ROC. The latter had the right to validate, change and cancel decisions made in Kiev. The ROC still functioned on the basis of a central budget. In its income structure, exarchates were treated in the same way as ordinary dioceses. They were also obliged to transfer their subscription to “the center.”60 In May 1990, Moscow Patriarch Pimen died. Metropolitan Filaret – the long-time leader of the Ukrainian exarchate and then of the UOC – ran for office as Patriarch. Due to his seniority in the hierarchy and the fact of holding the post of the guardian of the Patriarch’s throne during the vacancy, he was considered to be a front-runner. However, his ambitions were not fulfilled – Aleksiy II (Ridiger) became Pimen’s successor. As a result, Filaret returned to Kiev. More or less at the same time, the Supreme Soviet of the Ukrainian SSR passed the Declaration of Independence of Ukraine. According to it, the Ukrainian SSR, while remaining within the USSR, was to enjoy “state sovereignty” within the borders of its territory.61 In the bosom of the CPU, the wing of the so-called “national communists” was beginning to crystallize. At the end of July 1990, one of their leaders, Leonid Kravchuk, became the chairman of the Supreme Soviet of the Ukrainian SRR. His election coincided with Metropolitan Filaret’s failure in his struggle to gain the throne of the Moscow Patriarch. In October 1990, Aleksiy II announced that the UOC received organizational independence. In light of the decision made at that time, the independence of the Orthodox Church structures subordinate to the Moscow Patriarchate acquired a formal basis. In accordance with the new regulations, the UOC gained, for instance, financial independence.62 During Aleksiy II’s visit, a tumultuous demonstration took place whose participants tried to prevent the Moscow Patriarch from entering St. Sophia Cathedral in Kiev, where he was to celebrate mass. Among active participants of the protests were political activists connected with the national-democratic party. The essence of the conflict was the issue of the 60

Ʌ. ɉɪɨɤɨɩɱɭɤ, Ɍɪɚɧɫɮɨɪɦɚɰɿɣɧɿ ɩɪɨɰɟɫɢ…, pp. 54-55. ȱɫɬɨɪɿɹ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ. Ⱦɨɤɭɦɟɧɬɢ, ɦɚɬɟɪɿɚɥɢ, Ʉɢʀɜ: Ⱥɤɚɞɟɦɿɹ, 2002, p. 416. 62 Ʌ. ɉɪɨɤɨɩɱɭɤ, Ɍɪɚɧɫɮɨɪɦɚɰɿɣɧɿ ɩɪɨɰɟɫɢ…, p. 58. 61

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future of the above-mentioned cathedral – one of the most important symbols of Christianity in Kiev. It became the focus of competition between the Moscow-dependent UOC and the newly established UAOC. For the time being, the cathedral belonged to the state and it was the state that regulated access to the church. In this way, it became an active participant of conflicts inside the Orthodox Church. Leonid Kravchuk, the then chairman of the Supreme Soviet of the Ukrainian SRR, started mediation. Perhaps the most important element of the whole conflict was the decision to take the sum of 25 million karbovanets from the national budget and use it for repairs. This money came from the frozen accounts of the CPU.63 Supposedly, this operation was to seal the alliance between this section of the party (Kravchuk) and the Orthodox (Metropolitan Filaret) nomenklatura, who wanted to become independent from the center in Moscow. During that time, the structures subordinate to Metropolitan Filaret which still acted within the structural framework of the Moscow Patriarchate were diminishing dramatically. Meanwhile, the UAOC was experiencing a dynamic development in Western Ukraine. After the failed coup d’état in August 1991, the Supreme Soviet of the Ukrainian SSR announced the declaration of independence. It was sealed with the referendum on December 1st 1991, during which over 90% of general election, Leonid Kravchuk became the first president of independent Ukraine. A few days after the Supreme Soviet of the Ukrainian SSR announced the declaration of independence, the then President of the USSR Mikhail Gorbachev stated that “the USSR cannot exist without Ukraine.”64 Just like Ukraine’s leaving the structures of the Soviet Empire meant its end, the UOC’s leaving the structures of the Moscow Patriarchate would destroy both its dominant position in the Orthodox space of Eastern Europe and its aspirations to become the center of Eastern Christianity. At the same time, when the fate of Ukraine’s independence was being decided and the structures of the Greek Catholic Church and the UAOC were still developing, from November 1st to the 3rd of 1991, under the leadership of Metropolitan Filaret, the Council of the UOC was in session. Its participants submitted a request to the Moscow Patriarchate to grant them autocephaly. The main motive of this decision was the desire to adjust to the dynamically changing political situation. In one of the interviews, the then Patriarch of Kiev openly admitted that after 63

Ʌ. ɉɪɨɤɨɩɱɭɤ, Ɍɪɚɧɫɮɨɪɦɚɰɿɣɧɿ ɩɪɨɰɟɫɢ…, p. 51. Jarosáaw Hrycak, Historia Ukrainy. 1772-1999, Lublin: Instytut Europy ĝrodkowo-Wschodniej, 2000, p. 322. 64

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announcing independence, he realized that the position of the UOC should be adjusted to “the status of the state.”65 Therefore, the leader of the UOC de facto decided to refuse the Moscow Patriarchate obedience. The ultimatum concerning autocephaly was repeated in January 1992 – however, it was to no effect. In response, the Moscow Patriarchate took steps to remove Filaret from the post. In April 1992, he finally left the ROC. As a consequence, he was deprived of all titles, and practically all bishops who were under his jurisdiction refused him obedience. They also chose their new leader, Metropolitan Volodymyr (Sabodan). The mass media campaign, whose aim was to discredit the figure of Metropolitan Filaret as a clergyman, had far-reaching repercussions. It might seem that Metropolitan Filaret as an Orthodox hierarch practically lost everything. This is, however, a mistaken impression. He irretrievably lost his position in the hierarchy of the ROC, but in return he gained new patronage by becoming part of the elites of the newly established Ukrainian state along with the leader of the post-communist nomenklatura, the first president of Ukraine, Leonid Kravchuk. Although it turned out that the new patronage was not powerful enough to eliminate the competition in Ukraine which was subordinate to the Moscow Patriarchate, Kravchuk was influential enough to effectively support Filaret when he decided to take control over the process of institutionalizing the idea of Ukrainian autocephaly. The bishops who rebelled against Filaret gathered in May 1992 in Kharkiv in order to “dethrone” their leader and elect his successor. Under these circumstances, Filaret met with Kravchuk. The present Patriarch of Kiev warned the President that the Kharkiv council is “illegal” and that Kravchuk “should, as the President, react” in order to avoid “great confusion in the country.”66 The accounts of the other side, i.e., of the participants of the “Kharkiv council” confirm the engagement of Kravchuk himself as well as his administration with the internal problems of the UOC. A month before the mentioned council, the Ukrainian President, accompanied by the chairman of the Kharkiv district council Alexander Madelski, visited one of the leaders of the anti-Filaret opposition loyal to the Moscow Patriarchate – Nikodym, the bishop of Kharkiv. Both representatives of state power strove to influence the settlement of the conflict which erupted around the issues of the autocephaly of the UOC and the position of Filaret. The aim of this intervention was to lobby for the present leader of the UOC. Bishop 65

ɉɚɬɪɢɚɪɯ Ɏɢɥɚɪɟɬ (Ⱦɟɧɢɫɟɧɤɨ), Bɨɫɩɨɦɢɧɚɧɢɹ ɨ 1990-1992 ɝɨɞɚɯ http://krotov.info/libr_min/05_d/en/isenko.htm 66 ɉɚɬɪɢɚɪɯ Ɏɢɥɚɪɟɬ (Ⱦɟɧɢɫɟɧɤɨ), Bɨɫɩɨɦɢɧɚɧɢɹ…,

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Nikodym (Rusnak) recalled that already during the session of the council, a civil servant from the Council for Religious Affairs, Vasiliy Sereda, called every two hours and consistently reminded them that “Leonid Makarovich is firmly convinced that your Council will approve of Metropolitan Filaret as the leader of the UOC.” However, when it turned out that the gathered bishops did not listen to the President’s suggestions, the same civil servant informed the assembly in Kharkiv that Ukrainian authorities would not support the UOC and its new leader – Metropolitan Volodymyr (Sabodan).67 President Kravchuk’s support for the UOC KP is perfectly reflected in the figure of Arseniy Zinchenko. Since 1992, he was the chairman of the Council for Religious Affairs – the state organ which was to control the conditions in which religious communities functioned. He did not hide his sympathy towards the Orthodox Church, which in fact was led by the former exarch of the Moscow Patriarchate in Ukraine – Filaret.68 According to some sources, Zinchenko combined the post of chief in the above-mentioned Council with that of a lecturer at the UOC KP’s seminary.69 At the end of June 1992, without informing Patriarch Mstyslav (Skrypnyk), during the hastily organized “unification council,” the remaining UOC structures loyal to Filaret were incorporated into the UAOC. The establishment of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church Kyiv Patriarchate (UOC KP) was proclaimed. In fact, as a result of “unification,” Filaret – not so long ago an uncompromising enemy of this community – was co-opted into the UAOC. His crucial asset was the support of the new Ukrainian authorities. With their help, it was possible to take control over the autocephalous movement and annex it under the banner of the “UOC KP.” Theoretically, the leader of this community was Patriarch Mstyslav. However, in fact, the “unification” took place against his will. Patriarch Mstyslav (Skrypnyk) did not accept the unification decisions, but was helpless. It turned out that the entire UAOC hierarchy joined the UOC KP, at least at the beginning. Among the supporters of autocephaly, there was also a group which, similarly to Mstyslav, did not accept the nomenklatura model according to which the Orthodox Church operated. 67

Ɇɢɬɪɨɩɨɥɢɬ ɇɢɤɨɞɢɦ (ɇ. ɋ. Ɋɭɫɧɚɤ), ɉɨɫɥɚɧɢɹ, ɫɥɨɜɚ, ɪɟɱɢ, ɏɚɪɶɤɨɜ: ɉɪɚɩɨɪ, 2004, Vol. VI, pp. 509-510. 68 Ⱥɧɞɪɿɣ ɘɪɚɲ, ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɚ ɐɟɪɤɜɚ ɜ ɤɨɧɬɟɤɫɬɿ ɫɭɱɚɫɧɢɯ ɩɨɥɿɬɢɤɨɤɨɧɮɟɫɿɣɧɢɯ ɬɚ ɤɨɦɭɧɿɤɚɬɢɜɧɢɯ ɩɪɨɰɟɫɿɜ: ɿɫɬɨɪɢɤɨ-ɩɨɥɿɬɨɥɨɝɿɱɧɢɣ ɚɫɩɟɤɬ, Ʌɶɜɿɜ 1996, (unpublished doctoral dissertation), p. 122. 69 Ʌ. ɉɪɨɤɨɩɱɭɤ, Ɍɪɚɧɫɮɨɪɦɚɰɿɣɧɿ ɩɪɨɰɟɫɢ…, p. 71.

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The group included Fr. Volodymyr Yarema and representatives of secular intelligentsia. It could be said that they started the so-called “third revival of the UAOC” in 1989. However, this group very quickly lost control over the movement they initiated. Its representatives, for instance Fr. Yarema, could only play the role of onlookers during the “unification council” in 1992. Very soon it turned out that there was no place in the UOC KP for opposition to the Orthodox-nomenklatura alliance. Opponents – actual and potential – were eliminated. Very characteristically, after the death of Patriarch Mstyslav (1993), the emigrant UOC in the USA was determined to separate itself from the structures controlled by Metropolitan Filaret.70 The shape of the relations between the intelligentsia and people who created the broadly-understood intellectual background for autocephaly and its Orthodox hierarchy is the spitting image of regularities which could be observed in the relations between party nomenklatura and the intelligentsia. Very close connections between them were quite conceivable. However, in general, the intelligentsia performed service functions for the nomenklatura, at the same time “intellectually” distancing themselves from it.71 One of the illusions of the period of “reconstruction” was the hope for creating a new elite by joining party “reformers” with democracy-oriented intelligentsia and “movements for national and religious rights.” Soon it turned out that representatives of the last group could only assist the party nomenklatura, which effectively petrified the fruits of transformations. In this situation, supporters of authentic democratization and pluralization of the Soviet system could at best create a democratic umbrella over the “bureaucratic and then dictatorial model of action” of their alleged nomenklatura ally.72 By analogy, the few groups which began to propagate the ideas and slogans of reviving their own Ukrainian Orthodox tradition as well as religious and spiritual independence from Moscow were used in the process of legitimating the power held by part of the Soviet Party establishment which had “converted” to democracy and independence. The process of institutionalizing Ukrainian autocephaly was dominated by the principles of nomenklatura patrimonialism. It seems that from the very beginning, its fate was a foregone conclusion. This was because at first, the idea of autocephaly became entangled in the conflict of the structures of local Soviet authorities against the re-emerging Greek Catholic Church 70

Ɋ. əɪɟɦɚ, ɐɟɪɤɨɜɧɵɟ ɪɚɫɤɨɥɵ…, p. 59. Ɋɟɧɚɥɶɞ ɋɢɦɨɧɹɧ, ɗɥɢɬɚ ɢɥɢ ɜɫɟ-ɬɚɤɢ ɧɨɦɟɧɤɥɚɬɭɪɚ? (Ɋɚɡɦɵɲɥɟɧɢɹ ɨ ɪɨɫɫɢɣɫɤɨɦ ɩɪɚɜɹɳɟɦ ɫɥɨɟ) in: „Ɉɛɳɟɫɬɜɟɧɧɵɟ ɧɚɭɤɢ ɢ ɫɨɜɪɟɦɟɧɧɨɫɬɶ”, ʋ 2, 2009 r., p. 117. 72 ɘ. Ⱥ. Ʌɟɜɚɞɚ, ɗɥɢɬɚɪɧɵɟ ɫɬɪɭɤɬɭɪɵ…, p. 14. 71

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and democratic opposition. Then it was used to build the “social reputation” of members of the party and of the Orthodox nomenklatura who only a few months earlier actively fought against attempts to build structures independent from Moscow – both state and religious. As a result, representatives of the intelligentsia and people truly devoted to the idea of an independent Orthodox Church in Ukraine either moved to the opposition against the movement, which in a way they initiated themselves, or they were pushed to its margins. Participants of the session in Kharkiv in May 1992 who were faithful to the Moscow Patriarch did not give in to the pressure of Ukrainian authorities. Thus, it seemed that the UOC hierarchy did away with its previous course of action in similar situations, which mainly consisted of conformism and submissiveness towards the secular power. Could this mean that bishops working in Ukraine within the structures of the Moscow Patriarchate broke away from the logic of functioning within the neopatrimonial-nomenklatura system? It appears that, to some extent, Andrij Yurash accurately explained the reasons for the determination of Metropolitan Filaret’s adversaries and the autocephaly which he propagated. In his view, the overwhelming majority of bishops made a sovereign decision to remain within the structures of the Moscow Patriarchate. This means that they did not do this because they feared victimization suffered by “rebellious” Filaret, but as a result of a pragmatic choice. Unity with the ROC seemed to them to be worth more than giving in to “the canonical jurisdiction of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church which still had to be fought for and extensively developed.”73 However, the bishops who gathered in Kharkiv were aware that opposing Filaret, who was favored by Leonid Kravchuk and his supporters, would incur problems, for example in the form of the threat of various administrative sanctions.74 It should be remembered that the rebellious UOC hierarchs belonged to the circles shaped in Soviet reality, accustomed to a symbiosis with the state power and full subordination to it. The emerging perspective of a conflict with the administration of the Ukrainian President could not look encouraging from their point of view. Thus, it was no accident that within a few weeks, participants of the “Kharkiv council” submitted two letters to the President, in which they 73

Ⱥɧɞɪɿɣ ɘɪɚɲ, ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɚ ɐɟɪɤɜɚ ɜ ɤɨɧɬɟɤɫɬɿ…, p. 122. For instance, the legal validity of the “Kharkiv council” began to be questioned by the then key organ for the relations between the state and religious groups, i.e., the Council for Religious Affairs. Its disapproval was expressed also by the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of Ukraine – ɉɚɬɪɢɚɪɯ Ɏɢɥɚɪɟɬ (Ⱦɟɧɢɫɟɧɤɨ), Bɨɫɩɨɦɢɧɚɧɢɹ… 74

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explained the reasons for being forced to dismiss their former leader.75 However, it would be difficult to suspect that the bishops who signed the letters labored under the illusion that in this way, they would manage to appease the conflict. It might be supposed that the determination of the participants of the rebellion against Metropolitan Filaret had a few causes. These certainly included personal animosity, mistakes made by Metropolitan Filaret, and the attitude of particular hierarchs towards the mere idea of autocephaly. However, the crucial problem faced by bishops who functioned within the structures of the Moscow Patriarchate after Ukraine declared independence was the necessity of choosing a patron. The formal decision to dissolve the USSR, just like the declaration of autocephaly, was in itself unable to interrupt the actually existing network of influences and dependencies which had so far connected the state and Orthodox structures in Ukraine with the center in Moscow. In 1992, a conception of the territory of the former USSR crystallized as an area of exclusive Russian influence. It was made public in March 1992 – almost two months before the meeting of the UOC hierarchy in Kharkiv – by Boris Yeltsin’s advisor Sergei Stankevich.76 At the end of that year, the phrase “Near abroad” entered the official dictionary of Russian diplomacy for good, and referred to the former Soviet republics. It was to mean “the area of special influence and living interests of Russia.”77 Alicja Curanoviü is right to point out the mutual relation between the phrase used by the Kremlin authorities “Near abroad” and the term “canonical territory,” which the ROC began to use. In both cases, the concern was to “maintain the post-Soviet space within the orbit of Russian influence.”78 In this situation, it was clear that, if need be, in return for subordinating to the Moscow Patriarchate, participants of the “Kharkiv council” could count not only on support from Moscow “on the Orthodox front,” but also from the state circles. Worth mentioning here are fragments of the resolution of the World Russian National Council from May 1993. This structure, which emerged under the auspices of the ROC, is a perfect example of the institutionalization of the alliance between the Moscow Patriarchate and Russian authorities in the new post-Soviet reality. One of 75 Ɇɢɬɪɨɩɨɥɢɬ ɇɢɤɨɞɢɦ (ɇ. ɋ. Ɋɭɫɧɚɤ), ɉɨɫɥɚɧɢɹ, ɫɥɨɜɚ…, pp. 571-574, 615619. 76 Monika Nizioá, Dylematy kulturowe miĊdzynarodowej roli Rosji, Lublin: UMCS, 2004, p. 159. 77 Alicja Curanoviü, Czynnik religijny w polityce zagranicznej Federacji Rosyjskiej, Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Warszawskiego, 2010, p. 211. 78 A. Curanoviü, Czynnik religijny w polityce…, p. 211.

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its first documents was “a proclamation on the way of understanding the national interests of Russia and the Russian nation.”79 Among the priority interests of the Russian Federation, its authors included the problem of relations with “the countries – parts of the historical Russian state.” In their opinion, in these matters, such a policy should be conducted that would enable “a peaceful reconstruction of the united country, if this will be the nations’ will.” The proclamation underlined that while achieving this goal, it is unacceptable to use settlement by force, and that unification actions should focus “exclusively on political, diplomatic, canonical and spiritual initiatives.” From our viewpoint, a very significant part is also the fragment in which the authors of the proclamation postulate to “make it clear that in the new countries, privileged support from Russia” will be enjoyed by “these forces which see their future together with Russia.”80 Although these words were formulated almost a year after the “Kharkiv council,” it can be assumed that they perfectly reflect the atmosphere in which its participants in May 1992 made the decision to choose not only the new leader of the UOC, but also the patron for their community.

79

Ɉɛɪɚɳɟɧɢɟ I ȼɫɟɦɢɪɧɨɝɨ Ɋɭɫɫɤɨɝɨ ɋɨɛɨɪɚ «Ɉ ɩɨɧɢɦɚɧɢɢ ɧɚɰɢɨɧɚɥɶɧɵɯ ɢɧɬɟɪɟɫɨɜ Ɋɨɫɫɢɢ ɢ ɪɭɫɫɤɨɝɨ ɧɚɪɨɞɚ», http://www.vrns.ru/documents/54/1270/#.UW17TbXLNIG. 80 Ɉɛɪɚɳɟɧɢɟ I ȼɫɟɦɢɪɧɨɝɨ…

CHAPTER SIX EASTERN CHRISTIAN COMMUNITIES IN UKRAINE UNDER POST-COMMUNIST REALITIES

In 1994, Leonid Kravchuk ran for re-election. During his election campaign, he tried to ‘play the religious card’. He benefited from the support of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church of the Kyiv Patriarchate (UOC KP). During the fight for a second term in 1994, the incumbent president also tried to resolve the problem of restituting Church property which was confiscated by the Soviet state, which the independent state of Ukraine took over. The most important temples – symbols such as the KyivPechersk Lavra or the Cathedral of St. Sofia, were the subject of competition between the Orthodox communities. This in turn meant that they applied their petitions to the state. As a result, the Ukrainian authorities could treat the issue of restitution of Church property in an instrumental way, for example, by basing their decisions on the matter depending on the position of the representatives of a given Orthodox Church on political issues. It is in this context that we must consider the genesis of the proposal by Kravchuk during his election campaign period, which was to set up a special committee to address the issue of the return of these symbols of Ukrainian spiritual culture.1 At that time, the real influence of the UOC KP structures was generally confined to Western Ukraine. Therefore, Kravchuk was also trying to gain acceptance for his candidacy from the Ukrainian Orthodox Church of the Moscow Patriarchate (UOC MP). As we would expect, he tried to convince people in this way to be his voters, inter alia, from the more Russified and Sovietized Central and Eastern regions of Ukraine. This even led to a demonstration meeting between Kravchuk and the head of the UOC MP, Metropolitan Volodymyr (Sabodan). But as it turned out, these attempts did not lead to a change in the results of the presidential election of 1994. Leonid Kuchma won. During the campaign, he used the 1

Ʌ. ɉɪɨɤɨɩɱɭɤ, Ɍɪɚɧɫɮɨɪɦɚɰɿɣɧɿ..., p. 86.

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support of the UOC MP. Therefore, when the president took office, relations between “Filaret’s” Orthodox Church and the power of the state had to be changed. Within the first days after his inauguration, Kuchma dismissed the Council for Religious Affairs. Vasyl Sereda stood at the head of the new body which was to implement state policy on religious matters. He opposed open support for the UOC KP and called for “normalizing” relations between the Ukrainian authorities and Orthodox structures subordinate to the Moscow Patriarchate.2 Andriy Yurash assessed that this reorganization and the subsequent staff changes led to the loss of support from the state authorities for supporters of the construction of an independent Orthodox Church in Ukraine. It may be true that in reality, Kuchma sought the “complete impartiality” of the state in confessional matters and was about to withdraw from “participating in the resolution of any religious problems.”3 But soon it turned out that when the Ukrainian state and the Orthodox community are so tightly entangled in a net of dependencies concerning property and ideology, escape from these problems can bring disastrous consequences. This concerns the events of the so-called “Black Tuesday” related with the funeral of the second nominal superior of the UOC KP – Patriarch Volodymyr (Romanyuk). Organizers of events did not come to an agreement with state authorities concerning the resting place of the hierarch. As a result, they arbitrarily made the decision about the burial of the deceased patriarch on the territory of St. Sofia Cathedral under state administration. We should draw attention to the active participation of the deputies of the Verkhovna Rada – the UOC KP supporters in these events. On the other hand, from the course of events, we can conclude that the authorities in advance were prepared for such a scenario. The funeral procession was not allowed into the temple area and, as a result, the deceased patriarch was buried under a wall surrounding the Cathedral of St. Sofia, actually on the sidewalk. This also led to clashes with security and organization services.4 The entire event can be interpreted as an attempt at annexation due to the factual activities of the UOC KP at the most important shrine in Kiev, whose symbolic significance cannot be underestimated. While this goal was not actually achieved, the events of the so-called “Black Tuesday” helped create Metropolitan Filaret’s image as the leading defender of

2

ɍɫɬɢɦ ɏɚɜɚɪɿɜɫɶɤɢɣ, Ⱦɟɪɠɚɜɧɢɣ ɨɪɝɚɧ ɭ ɫɩɪɚɜɚɯ ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣ (1991-2010) in: «ȱɫɬɨɪɿɹ ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ», 2010, Vol. II, p. 204. 3 A. ɘɪɚɲ, ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɚ ɐɟɪɤɜɚ…, pp. 125-126. 4 Ȼɿɥɚ ɤɧɢɝɚ «ɱɨɪɧɨɝɨ ɜɿɜɬɨɪɤɚ»,ȼ. ɐɢɦɛɚɥɸɤ (ed.), Ʉɢʀɜ 1995;

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Ukrainian autocephaly (and by implication – independence as well). Since 1995, he has been the formal head of the UOC KP. It seems that the disturbance associated with the funeral of Patriarch Volodymyr (Romanyuk) was also a clear signal to Kuchma, who over the previous year was exercising the duties of head of state, that attempts to marginalize the UOC KP could have serious political consequences. So when in 1995 Filaret threatened to organize a massive celebration of the anniversary of the death of his predecessor, the President of Ukraine agreed to take the matter of organizing the grave of Patriarch Volodymyr (Romanyuk) located at the walls of St. Sofia Cathedral into his hands.5 It seems that this did not so much concern the memory of the deceased hierarch, but showed that Kuchma had been persuaded to continue the policy of state care over the UOC KP. In this context, it is worth recalling the decision made by the Head of State six months earlier to set up a special fund to collect money to be used to open the most important monuments of “history and culture.”6 Under authority of a presidential ukase, this fund transferred a total of about 1 million hryweĔ for the restoration of the Monastery complex of St. Michael in Kiev used by the UOC KP.7 After the events of the so-called “Black Tuesday,” the administrative structures responsible for the state policy in the area of religious affiliation were once again reorganized. In October 1995, the State Committee for National and Religious Affairs was established. In December 1996, the mentioned Committee opened the All-Ukrainian Council of Churches and Religious Organizations. Both institutions proved to be tools by which the authorities tried to use religious authority in crisis situations for their own benefit.8 Kuchma’s administration strategy in religious matters was to strike a balance between the influences on the political and social life of two major Orthodox rivals: the UOC KP and the UOC MP. The latter in the initial 5

Ʌ. ɉɪɨɤɨɩɱɭɤ, Ɍɪɚɧɫɮɨɪɦɚɰɿɣɧɿ..., p. 91. ɍɤɚɡ ɉɪɟɡɢɞɟɧɬɚ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ, ɉɪɨ ɡɚɯɨɞɢ ɳɨɞɨ ɜɿɞɬɜɨɪɟɧɧɹ ɜɢɞɚɬɧɢɯ ɩɚɦ’ɹɬɨɤ ɿɫɬɨɪɿʀ ɬɚ ɤɭɥɶɬɭɪɢ (9 ɝɪɭɞɧɹ 1995 ɪɨɤɭ), http://zakon4.rada.gov.ua/laws/show/1138/95 7 Ƚɚɥɢɧɚ Ⱦɟɧɢɫɟɧɤɨ, ɉɨɞɜɢɠɧɢɰɶɤɚ ɞɿɹɥɶɧɿɫɬɶ ɚɤɚɞɟɦɿɤɚ ɇȺɇ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ɉ. Ɍ. Ɍɪɨɧɶɤɚ ɧɚ ɧɢɜɿ ɨɯɨɪɨɧɢ ɿ ɡɛɟɪɟɠɟɧɧɹ ɧɚɰɿɨɧɚɥɶɧɨʀ ɿɫɬɨɪɢɤɨ-ɤɭɥɶɬɭɪɧɨʀ ɫɩɚɞɳɢɧɢ, in: „ȱɫɬɨɪɿɹ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ: ɦɚɥɨɜɿɞɨɦɿ ɿɦɟɧɚ, ɩɨɞɿʀ, ɮɚɤɬɢ”, 2010, No. 36, p. 44. Text found at the Internet address: http://dspace.nbuv.gov.ua/bitstream/handle/123456789/12437/3Denysenko.pdf?sequence=1 8 ɍ. ɏɚɜɚɪɿɜɫɶɤɢɣ, Ⱦɟɪɠɚɜɧɢɣ ɨɪɝɚɧ…, p. 206. 6

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period – in the first half of the 90s, was on the defensive side. Later, however, she began to regain her lost positions in relations with the authorities. Formally, responsibility for her condition rests on the State Committee for National and Religious Affairs. It is this organization that was, inter alia, “to shape and implement” state policy “with respect to religion and churches,” and also to prevent state bodies from interfering in the activities of religious organizations and vice versa.9 Officials of the Committee tried to keep clear of the UOC MP; in any case, they abstained from any indications of open favoritism. However, the Orthodox Church subject to the Moscow Patriarchate successfully established and institutionalized direct relationships with government authorities such as the ministries of defense, education and the prison service.10 The UOC MP formally acquired internal autonomy, but in practice it was an organic part of the Russian Orthodox Church (ROC).11 Meanwhile, in the early 90s, a new concept of alliance between the Russian Orthodox Church and the state authorities in Russia began to crystallize. When the Moscow Patriarchate became a part of the Kremlin’s soft power in foreign policy, its structures in Ukraine were in a somewhat ambiguous position. In this context, their special relationship with the ministries, vital to the security of the Ukrainian state, may seem most problematic. It seems that O. Sahan and S. Zdioruk rightly took this opportunity to draw attention to the possibility of a conflict of loyalties.12 Undoubtedly, it was no coincidence that in the political sphere the UOC MP openly legitimized pro-Russian groups in one way or another, which even questioned the meaning of a genuine independence for Ukraine, and opted for reintegration of the post-Soviet area under the patronage of Moscow. While it may seem a bit paradoxical, the most important group that sought the support of the UOC MP were the communists. It was no coincidence that the first politician who, during his presidential election campaign in 1999, appealed to religious issues was the leader of the Communist Party of Ukraine – Petro Symonenko. He stated, among other things, that canonical Orthodoxy (meaning within the jurisdiction of the 9

ɉɨɫɬɚɧɨɜɚ ɜɿɞ 3 ɫɿɱɧɹ 1996 ɪ.: ɉɪɨ ɡɚɬɜɟɪɞɠɟɧɧɹ ɉɨɥɨɠɟɧɧɹ ɩɪɨ Ⱦɟɪɠɚɜɧɢɣ ɤɨɦɿɬɟɬ ɭ ɫɩɪɚɜɚɯ ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣ, http://zakon.nau.ua/doc/?uid=1057.1224.0. 10 Ɉɥɟɤɫɚɧɞɪ ɋɚɝɚɧ, ɋɟɪɝɿɣ Ɂɞɿɨɪɭɤ, ɉɨɦɿɫɧɚ ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɚ ɐɟɪɤɜɚ: ɩɪɨɛɥɟɦɢ ɿ ɩɪɨɝɧɨɡɢ ɤɨɧɫɬɢɬɭɸɜɚɧɧɹ, in: ɍɤɪɚʀɧɚ ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɚ. Ʉɨɥɟɤɬɢɜɧɚ ɦɨɧɨɝɪɚɮɿɹ. Ʉɧɢɝɚ ɞɪɭɝɚ: ɉɪɨɝɧɨɡɢ ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɢɯ ɩɪɨɰɟɫɿɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ, Ⱥ. Ʉɨɥɨɞɧɢɣ (ed.) Ʉɢʀɜ, ȱɎ ɇȺɇɍ, 2008, p. 139. 11 O. ɋɚɝɚɧ, C. Ɂɞɿɨɪɭɤ, ɉɨɦɿɫɧɚ ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɚ ɐɟɪɤɜɚ…, p. 136. 12 O. ɋɚɝɚɧ, C. Ɂɞɿɨɪɭɤ, ɉɨɦɿɫɧɚ ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɚ ɐɟɪɤɜɚ…, p. 139.

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Moscow Patriarchate) is the basis of Ukrainian civilization, and in addition, the unity of the “fraternal Slavic peoples” was founded on it. According to Symonenko, “the path for Europe” which Kuchma declared was not in accord with Ukraine’s identity.13 Acting President Kuchma, who was Symonenko’s main rival during the 1999 campaign, also took into account the religious element in his election strategy. It seems that he tried not to favor any of the churches, nevertheless a permanent element of his visits “in the field” were meetings with the superiors of local religious structures.14 During the campaign before parliamentary elections in 2002, a text of the Communist Party of Ukraine’s leader appeared entitled: The Crusade against Ukraine. Amongst its contents, the author explained that the UOC MP is “close” to the Communist and “understandable” to their basis for Ukrainian national identity, because it is “truly the people’s, national and patriotic.”15 In truth, the community under the authority of Metropolitan Volodymyr (Sabodan) was officially reluctant to explicitly support the communist leader.16 However, it seems possible to speak about a dependency network that connected the structures of the Orthodox Church and the Communist Party. Most likely, Petro Symonenko in June of 2003 received the “Equal of the Apostles Great Prince Volodymyr” order from the hands of the superior of the UOC MP. After the awards ceremony, the head of the Communist Party of Ukraine met with the governor of the Kyiv-Pechersk Lavra, Metropolitan Pavel (Lebid), and “discussed issues related to the revival of the monastery with him.”17 This fact is worth noting, since the Orthodox prelate was also an active participant in political life. In the elections to the Verkhovna Rada in 1998, he was a candidate on the list of the Regional Revival Party of Ukraine, which soon evolved into the Party of Regions, and thus had political backup from Kuchma’s soon to be successor – Victor Yanukovych. We must note that 13

ȼ. ɉɚɳɟɧɤɨ, Ɉɫɨɛɥɢɜɨɫɬɿ ɦɿɠɩɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɨɝɨ ɩɪɨɬɢɫɬɨɹɧɧɹ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ ɧɚɩɟɪɟɞɨɞɧɿ 2000-ɥɿɬɬɹ Ɋɿɡɞɜɚ ɏɪɢɫɬɨɜɨɝɨ in: «ȱɫɬɨɪɢɱɧɚ ɩɚɦ‫ތ‬ɹɬɶ», No. 2 (2008), p. 58. 14 ȼɿɤɬɨɪ Ȼɨɧɞɚɪɟɧɤɨ, Ȼɨɝɞɚɧ Ⱥɧɞɪɭɫɢɲɢɧ, Ⱦɟɪɠɚɜɧɨ-ɰɟɪɤɨɜɧɿ ɜɿɞɧɨɫɢɧɢ: ɿɫɬɨɪɿɹ, ɫɭɱɚɫɧɢɣ ɫɬɚɧ ɬɚ ɩɟɪɫɩɟɤɬɢɜɢ ɪɨɡɜɢɬɤɭ, Ʉɢʀɜ, ɇɉɍ ɿɦ. Ɇ. ɉ. Ⱦɪɚɝɨɦɚɧɨɜɚ, 2011, p. 352. 15 ɉ. ɋɢɦɨɧɟɧɤɨ, Ʉɪɟɫɬɨɜɵɣ ɩɨɯɨɞ ɩɪɨɬɢɜ ɍɤɪɚɢɧɵ http://www.ank.in.ua/lib.php?book=lib/variable/text_0008.php&caption=%20#_Ʉ ɪɟɫɬɨɜɵɣ_ɩɨɯɨɞ_ɩɪɨɬɢɜ_ɍɤɪɚɢɧɵ. 16 ȼ. ɉɚɳɟɧɤɨ, Ɉɫɨɛɥɢɜɨɫɬɿ ɦɿɠɩɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɨɝɨ…, p. 63. 17 Ƚɥɚɜɧɵɣ ɤɨɦɦɭɧɢɫɬ ɭɤɪɚɢɧɵ ɧɚɝɪɚɠɞɟɧ... ɰɟɪɤɨɜɧɵɦ ɨɪɞɟɧɨɦ, http://www.segodnya.ua/oldarchive/c2256713004f33f5c2256d4e004cb8d3.html.

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the Party of Regions appealed to the same electorate as the UCP and largely managed to take over its votes. Prior to the parliamentary elections in 2002, Metropolitan Volodymyr (Sabodan) openly stated that the parties which declare that their programs cooperate with the Orthodox Church “can count on the support of the Orthodox faithful.”18 Undoubtedly, during the then competition for the seats of the deputies of the Supreme Council, the UOC MP was the subject sought after by several groups. In addition, apart from the Communist Party of Ukraine, we ought to mention the Peasant Party of Ukraine (PPU), the Social Democratic Party of Ukraine (SDPU) and the propresidential bloc “For United Ukraine”.19 At the same time, at least part of Kuchma’s environment “increasingly felt uncomfortable” due to the dependence of the UOC on the Moscow Patriarchate and the consequent “Russian Federation’s orientation on foreign policy.” In relation to this, in early 2001 the incumbent president returned to the idea of building an independent Orthodox Church in Ukraine.20 However, it would be difficult to talk about some internally coordinated strategy. Although Kuchma’s administration undertook operations in Constantinople and Moscow that were to provide recognition for the idea of independence for the Orthodox Church in Ukraine, they were discounted by the replies of other activists related with the ruling group, such as Andriy Derkach. In the parliamentary elections in 2002, he competed at a high position on the list of the pro-presidential bloc “For United Ukraine”. At the same time, this politician served on the board of one of the youth organizations of the Orthodox Church. During the election campaign, Derkach stated, inter alia, that it was high time to say outright that “Ukraine is a country of the Orthodox faith, and that canonical Orthodoxy is the religion building the nation.” On this occasion, he called people to protect the “inviolable unity of Orthodox Ukraine, Russia and Belarus united by the holy Patriarch of Moscow and all Rus’.”21 We should add that Derkach, in the years 1990-1993, studied at the Higher School of the KGB named after Dzerzhinsky (now the Academy of the Federal Security Service of Russia)22.

18

ɋɜɿɬɥɚɧɚ Ɏɢɥɢɩɱɭɤ, ɏɪɢɫɬɢɹɧɫɶɤɿ ɤɨɧɮɟɫɿʀ ɬɚ ɩɚɪɬɿʀ ɯɪɢɫɬɢɹɧɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɫɩɪɹɦɭɜɚɧɧɹ ɜ ɫɭɫɩɿɥɶɧɨɦɭ ɠɢɬɬɿ ɧɟɡɚɥɟɠɧɨʀ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ, Ɉɫɬɪɨɝ 2008, (unpublished doctoral dissertation), p. 85. 19 ɋ. Ɏɢɥɢɩɱɭɤ, ɏɪɢɫɬɢɹɧɫɶɤɿ ɤɨɧɮɟɫɿʀ..., pp. 85-86. 20 ȼ. Ȼɨɧɞɚɪɟɧɤɨ, Ȼ. Ⱥɧɞɪɭɫɢɲɢɧ, Ⱦɟɪɠɚɜɧɨ-ɰɟɪɤɨɜɧɿ ɜɿɞɧɨɫɢɧɢ…, p. 357. 21 ɋ. Ɏɢɥɢɩɱɭɤ, ɏɪɢɫɬɢɹɧɫɶɤɿ ɤɨɧɮɟɫɿʀ..., p. 85. 22 http://www.derkach.com.ua/bio/

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At first glance, the role of the religious factor in the parliamentary elections of 2002 was once again dominated by the nomenklaturaoligarchic system dependency with a neo-patrimonial basis. However, it should be noted that shortly before these elections, there were several significant events that launched the process of change within the Ukrainian political system. Primarily it was the monopolization of influence in the narrow circle of Kuchma’s closest environment which cut off or severely hampered access to the wide-range of rent-seeking benefits for other oligarchic groups. Inevitably, they found themselves in opposition to the camp associated with the acting president. His authority was severely strained by a series of scandals related to the so-called “privatization” of state assets suspected to be related with the death of the independent journalist Georgiy Gongadze and, finally, with an international scandal associated with the illegal arms trade. The conflict between the ruling party and its opponents took on new dynamics. It was a clash of interests among various oligarchic groups. But one of the parties decided to use tools appropriate for polyarchy in the fight, such as freedom of the media, the fight against corruption and kleptocracy and the institutionalization of the various forms of social activity. Thanks to this, the password of civil society in Ukraine ceased to be an empty slogan and began to reflect genuine social processes. Among the factors that stimulated this, we should not overlook one particularly interesting event: Pope John Paul II’s visit to Ukraine in June 2001. The topic of the Pope’s arrival kept coming up for a long time. It was a very delicate matter because the relationship between the Catholic Church and the ROC had become extremely complicated when the Greek Catholic Church emerged from the underground. It should be noted, however, that the issue of inviting the Pope to Ukraine was also an element of the political warm-up for authorities in Kiev. The pope was a symbol of the West, and the Catholic Church was seen by various Orthodox and political environments – especially those pro-Russian oriented – as a competitor in the struggle for influence in Ukraine. Failing to make a final decision on the arrival of the Pope, Kuchma’s administration could in a specific way find a balance not only between believers and supporters of Catholicism and Orthodoxy, but also between the two main options for mental-cultural awareness encoded in Ukrainian people: the pro-Russian and pro-European options. It can be said that in this way, Kuchma achieved his “multi-vector” strategy in the religious sphere as well. The decision to invite John Paul II to Ukraine was settled as early as mid-1997. It happened that the President of Ukraine met with the Pope in

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Gniezno at that time. In the course of the meeting, Kuchma declared that the head of the Catholic Church is “an expected guest” in Ukraine and therefore, he announced that as soon as possible the Vatican would be sent a formal invitation. Indeed, shortly afterwards, Prime Minister Valeryi Pustovoitenko formally handed the Pope an invitation. But – in a typical manner – the most essential things were not specified in it, including the exact date of the visit. Thanks to this, the issue of the Pope’s visit could be used during the presidential campaign in 1999, in which Kuchma run for re-election. The initiative of inviting the head of the Catholic Church was to arouse the sympathy of Greek Catholic voters. On the other hand, the lack of a final decision in this case allowed maneuvering between supporters and opponents of the papal visit. It was no coincidence that representatives of the presidential administration in early 1999 suggested that the pilgrimage of Pope John Paul II could occur at the end of that year – that is, after the election. At the same time, Kuchma’s chief adversary in the election, Petro Symonenko, the leader of the Communist Party of Ukraine, on behalf of the Ukrainian Communists protested against a possible papal visit to Ukraine. He stated, inter alia, that “the Catholic Church throughout all of its history destroyed Orthodoxy.” According to him, the decision to invite John Paul II testified that the ruling party were willing to sell all that is valuable for Ukrainians – not only the material, but also the “spiritual” sphere, just to stay in power.23 So the main rivals in the fight for the highest office of state used the issue of the Pope’s visit to the Ukraine as an additional factor for polarizing the political scene during the election campaign. This issue was widely discussed in the media, and as noted by Victor Yelenskyi, the matter of a possible papal pilgrimage even overshadowed the issue of conflicts within the Orthodox Church.24 In November 1999, Kuchma was elected for a second term, and as months passed, Pope John Paul II’s visit was still pending. It might seem that it would once again be the subject of “political speculation.”25 So when on November 30, 2000, the Spokesman of the Holy See officially announced the dates of the pilgrimage to Ukraine, it caused quite a surprise. It should be noted that precisely at that time, there was an escalation of the political crisis in Ukraine. It was in November that the opposition 23

ȼɿɤɬɨɪ ȯɥɟɧɫɶɤɢɣ, ȼɿɡɢɬ ɩɚɩɢ Ƀɨɚɧɚ ɉɚɜɥɚ ȱȱ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɭ: ɞɢɫɤɭɫɿʀ ɿ ɤɨɧɬɪɨɜɟɪɫɿʀ in: „Ʉɨɥɟɝɿɹ. Ⱥɥɶɦɚɧɚɯ ɯɪɢɫɬɢɹɧɫɶɤɨʀ ɬɪɚɞɢɰɿʀ” No. 2 (4), Kɢʀɜ 2001, p. 25. 24 B. ȯɥɟɧɫɶɤɢɣ, ȼɿɡɢɬ ɩɚɩɢ Ƀɨɚɧɚ ɉɚɜɥɚ ȱȱ..., p. 26. 25 B. ȯɥɟɧɫɶɤɢɣ, ȼɿɡɢɬ ɩɚɩɢ Ƀɨɚɧɚ ɉɚɜɥɚ ȱȱ..., p. 26.

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revealed recordings which were allegedly to show that Kuchma personally ordered the murder of opposition journalist Georgiy Gongadze. The scandal entered into ever widening circles. Soon, more incriminating materials “flowed” against the ruling president. They were witness to the fact that by Kuchma’s knowledge and consent, Ukraine broke the embargo on arms supplies to Iraq. The opposition campaign under the slogan “Ukraine without Kuchma” was officially launched on a large scale in mid-December 2000. Undoubtedly, therefore, Kuchma, by finally making the decision to invite the pope to Ukraine, wanted to improve his image – not only in the country but also abroad.26 The growing isolation in the international arena pushed the president’s administration harder into Moscow’s sphere of influence. Most certainly, for different reasons, Kuchma did not want his authority to rely on support from Russia. The decision to organize the papal visit was probably also to demonstrate his independence from Moscow. The Moscow Patriarchate argued against a possible papal pilgrimage in a particularly loud and in some cases downright hysterical protest.27 The fact that the Kremlin also treated the Pope’s arrival to Ukraine not only in terms of a religious event, but also politically might show the Russian diplomatic involvement in this issue. Unrest about the announced pilgrimage included Prime Minister Mikhail Kasyanov’s comments during an audience at the Vatican.28 Kuchma’s party tried to instrumentally use Pope John Paul II’s visit for political purposes. On the other hand, in retrospect, quite often we can meet up with the opinion that the Pope’s pilgrimage in 2001 was a major catalyst for the process of social awakening in Ukraine, which culminated in the so-called “Orange Revolution.” One of the Ukrainian commentators wrote from the perspective of the “unique atmosphere” that arose about the Pope’s visit to Ukraine. It was created due to “a state of rapture among Catholics of both rites, systemic opposition by the Moscow Patriarchate, caution among state officials and curiosity among ordinary citizens, open dissatisfaction of the Russian state and inarticulated societal expectations.”29 Among the journalists who served during the Pope’s visit, we can find the opinion that thanks to it, “a little” changed in the “psyche 26 Gerd Stricker pointed to purely political motivations, Gerd Stricker, On a Delicate Mission: Pope John Paul II in Ukraine in: “Religion, State & Society,” Vol. 29, No. 3, 2001, p. 218. 27 B. ȯɥɟɧɫɶɤɢɣ, ȼɿɡɢɬ ɩɚɩɢ Ƀɨɚɧɚ ɉɚɜɥɚ ȱȱ..., pp. 26-27. 28 B. ȯɥɟɧɫɶɤɢɣ, ȼɿɡɢɬ ɩɚɩɢ Ƀɨɚɧɚ ɉɚɜɥɚ ȱȱ..., p. 28. 29 ȼɿɡɢɬ ȱɜɚɧɚ ɉɚɜɥɚ ȱȱ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɭ: ɪɿɤ ɩɨ ɬɨɦɭ, http://www.radiosvoboda.org/content/article/891344.html.

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of the former Soviet people, who are accustomed to obedience to authority in all things.”30 The journalist quoted earlier ended the text from the perspective of the consequences of Pope John Paul II’s apostolic visit with a conclusion quite interesting from our point of view. “During the Pope’s visit to Ukraine,” he wrote, “people felt their own dignity, and the inhabitants for at least a decade will realize that they are a nation.” The author’s quoted words did not clearly specify whether and how the experience resulted in the development of the political situation in Ukraine. At the same time, however, he pointed out that nothing can be ruled out because “there are things that do not apply to mathematical analysis, unspoken things, which everyone felt, whoever was wet but not soaked in the Lviv downpour that may appear in an elusive manner within a day or in future generations.”31 It seems that these words grasped the phenomenon very synthetically and gratefully, which we defined as “inarticulate knowledge”. As has already been stated, it has a significant impact on the rules according to which the political system operates. During the “Orange Revolution,” society received subjectivity in the framework of the system on an unprecedented scale in the post-Soviet area. Seen from the perspective of the events surrounding the presidential elections in 2004, they comprise an attempt to at least make a deep correction based on the neopatrimonial rules of the nomenklatura-oligarchic system. In order for a similar attempt to receive such massive and genuine popular support, significant changes in the structure of “inarticulate knowledge” had to come about. As a consequence, their imaging it “as is” and “as it should be” so intensely diverged from the observed social practice that the system become unstable and caused a turning point. We are of course not able to produce hard evidence of a direct link between the visit of Pope John Paul II to Ukraine and the evolution of the “inarticulate knowledge,” which progressed from the parliamentary elections in 2002 to the election of Victor Yushchenko as president. However, we will try to point out some important prerequisites that allow us to state this hypothesis concerning the existence of such a relationship. First of all, the issue of the Pope’s arrival in Ukraine became the subject of a specific plebiscite. Opinion polls were conducted, whose results were published in the media. From these, the majority of respondents positively referred to the Pope’s visit, and its outspoken 30

ȼɿɡɢɬ ɉɚɩɢ Ɋɢɦɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɫɩɪɢɹɜ ɩɨɦɚɪɚɧɱɟɜɿɣ ɪɟɜɨɥɸɰɿʀ http://gazeta.ua/articles/history-newspaper/_vizit-papi-rimskogo-spriyavpomaranchevij-revolyuciji/297711. 31 ȼɿɡɢɬ ɉɚɩɢ Ɋɢɦɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɫɩɪɢɹɜ…

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opponents were a small minority.32 If we are to consider the decision to invite the pope to Ukraine in political terms, we must conclude that it was made in accordance with the will of the majority. It had to happen if Kuchma wished to save his position. It turned out that the authority formed under neopatrimonial conditions, under adequate pressure, was willing to submit to the will of the majority. The will of the majority gained importance in the system as a factor in legitimating decisions made by authority, and not as an object of manipulation and abuse. This is important for the structure of the “inarticulate knowledge” experience from the time when the independence referendum in December 1991 was refreshed and updated through the papal visit. The visit of the Spokesman of the Catholic Church was an event that occurred on a national scale. For the first time in a long time, the people did not take part in it as passive spectators, or as participants in a previously planned scenario. This time they were its subject. Pope John Paul II did not come to President Kuchma, or to one of the Church or Orthodox hierarchs, but to the Ukrainians. The authorities could only assist in this meeting. They organized it, but they did not create or direct the meeting. This was possible because the papal pilgrimage was an event that broke through the rigidity of the neopatrimonial rules of social practice. Orthodox Churches in Ukraine were actually completely subordinate to them, and the Greek Catholic community inevitably remained dependent on their authority as well. In this system, especially in the case of the hierarchy, the brunt of its activities focused on maintaining relationships with representatives of power structures at various levels. This was done at the expense of personal contacts – especially direct contact – with the faithful. However, in relations with the administration party, the Orthodox side primarily appeared in the role of supplicant. This obviously had a particularly negative impact on the authority of the higher clergy, especially at a time when the state authority, which so strongly solicited patronage, entered into newer corruption and criminal scandals. Trying to recreate and name the factors thanks to which the Pope’s visit to Ukraine could affect the state of “inarticulate knowledge” of Ukrainian society, we must draw attention to the event, which, although it does not seem to be specially publicized in official communications media, should not be underestimated. On April 4, 2001, Pope John Paul II received in audience the mother of the murdered journalist Georgiy Gongadze: she continued her efforts to identify those guilty of the death of 32

Gerd Stricker, On a Delicate Mission…, p. 219.

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her son. After the audience, Lesia Gongadze had no doubt that the Pope was aware of what kind of a country at the invitation of whose authorities he had chosen to visit in less than three months.33 Only in this context can we look at the contents of the public speeches of John Paul II in Ukraine in search of words and topics that could be considered an indirect catalyst for the evolution of the Ukrainian political system during the so-called “Orange Revolution.” Particular parts of the Pope’s speech from July 23, 2001, given in a meeting with representatives from the worlds of politics, culture, science and business, are worth noting. The speaker appealed to, inter alia, the attitude of the Duke of Kiev, Volodymyr Monomakh, who warned his followers “Allow not the strong to oppress the people” Pope John Paul II appealed to the audience to learn from the experience of the totalitarian era. Turning to politicians, he said, “Your job is to serve the people and provide them with peace and equal rights. Do not fall to the temptation to use power for personal or group interests.”34 A day later, the Pope addressed the members of the AllUkraine Council of Churches and Religious Organizations. He stressed the importance of religion “practiced with a humble and sincere heart” for the development of a “fraternal and just society.” He expressed the belief that “true democracy” is not possible without respect for the “religious freedom of citizens.” He also stressed the need to overcome the effects of the “atheistic oppression” that Ukraine experienced “during a long and painful period of dictatorships.” Therefore, he also turned to the listening representatives of religious communities in Ukraine: “You now have before you an urgent task of social reconstruction and the moral rebirth of the nation. You are called to bring about through your actions an essential contribution to this work of renewal, indicating that only in a climate of respect for religious freedom is it possible to build a society with a fully human face.”35 However, in his homily during the Mass celebrated in the Eastern rite in Kiev, Pope John Paul II spoke of the “strong spiritual roots” of Ukrainian freedom and independence that “despite the temptations of lawlessness and corruption” inspire hope for the future.36 The next day, during a meeting with youth in Lviv, he argued that history is “the way to 33

Patrick E. Tyler, Missing Newsman’s Mother Seeks Pope’s Support, http://www.nytimes.com/2001/06/25/world/missing-newsman-s-mother-seekspope-s-support.html. 34 Quoted after: Wáodzimierz Mokry, Apostolskie sáowo Jana Pawáa II na Ukrainie w 2001 roku, Kraków: Szwajpolt Fiol, 2002, p. 316. 35 Quoted after: W. Mokry, Apostolskie…, p. 346, 348. 36 Quoted after: W. Mokry, Apostolskie…, p. 362.

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mutual understanding between the Creator and the human being, a dialogue, where the ultimate goal is to lead us from the slavery of sin to freedom and love.” In relation to this, he asked the many young listeners: “Do you want to take this road? Do you also want to participate in this adventure?”37 A moment later, the pope emphasized the particular importance of “strong and responsible consciences” during the “difficult and complex” transition “from a totalitarian regime” to an “ultimately free and democratic society.” He appealed to young people to “not succumb to illusions of an easy life abroad.” “You are needed here,” he said, “you are young, ready to contribute to improving the social, cultural, economic and political conditions in the country.”38 The Pope’s challenge addressed to the clergy and the faithful during the Mass celebrated in the Eastern rite in Lviv sounded quite eloquent: “Let not the unabated courage of the Christian community in defense of the oppressed and persecuted weaken when paying close attention to the signs of the times, in order to read the social and the spiritual challenges of the moment.” In relation to this, Pope John Paul II clearly pointed out: “The Church cannot remain silent when it comes to the dignity of the human person and the common good.”39 An important element of “inarticulate knowledge” in Ukraine is the deeply rooted belief in the continuing dependence on the former center of the Soviet empire in Moscow. It concerns an appropriate – for the type of post-colonial mentality – conviction that formally proclaimed independence did not cut the old networks of the hegemony’s influence in Ukraine. The issue of John Paul II’s visit became, among other things, a unique test of the sovereignty and authentic independence of Ukraine’s political system in the light of the mentioned protests and pressures on the part of the Moscow Patriarch and Kremlin authorities. Of course, we are not seeking some direct dependencies based on a cause-effect link between what the Pope said during the pilgrimage and the evolution of the Ukrainian political system during the “Orange Revolution.” However, it would be difficult to conclude that an event of this magnitude, so intensely discussed and lived, in which political themes were very strongly present, did not result in any consequences in the socio-political order. During the presidential election campaign in 2004, a mentality of fear and indifference collided with attitudes appropriate to civil society. The UOC MP was very strongly involved on the side of the candidate of the 37

Quoted after: W. Mokry, Apostolskie…, p. 382. Quoted after: W. Mokry, Apostolskie…, p. 388. 39 Quoted after: W. Mokry, Apostolskie…, p. 398, 400. 38

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ruling party.40 This was done by using some symbolic gestures – such as the blessing given to Victor Yanukovych by Metropolitan Volodymyr (Sabodan) of Kyiv, or their journey together to Mount Athos and the Holy Land.41 Even on November 9, 2004, after serious allegations were raised about the manipulation of the first round of voting, Metropolitan Volodymyr stressed in an interview that from among all the candidates, he only blessed Victor Yanukovych. The head of the UOC MP said that he considers the Prime Minister seeking to be president to be a “true believer, an Orthodox man worthy to be at the forefront of our country.”42 Only on November 26, 2004, in the face of obvious cases of electoral fraud on a large scale, Metropolitan Volodymyr’s clear affirmation of Victor Yanukovych’s candidacy was replaced by calls to talk and reach a compromise. This hierarch also clearly pointed out that the Orthodox Church would not legitimize power gained through bloodshed. On November 30, 2004, in presenting the decisions of the UOC MP’s Holy Synod, he declared that “for the Orthodox Church, there is not just orange or white-blue, but all are our brothers and sisters in Christ.”43 What is very significant is that the head of the UOC MP clearly emphasized the importance of society as a basic and mature element of the political system. This is the way we can interpret his ascertainment that the social peace that they managed to keep “in the whirl of the events of recent days” indicates that “the nation turned out to be wiser than the politicians.”44 Also, the clergy subordinate to the Moscow patriarchate community was no less actively involved in the open campaigning for Yanukovych. The highest UOC MP superiors were convinced that he would be “an Orthodox president,” he was “God’s candidate” and that his person 40

See: ɐɟɪɤɜɢ ɿ ɜɥɚɞɚ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ ɧɚɩɟɪɟɞɨɞɧɿ ɩɪɟɡɢɞɟɧɬɫɶɤɨʀ ɜɢɛɨɪɱɨʀ ɤɚɦɩɚɧɿʀ in: «Ȼɸɥɟɬɟɧɶ ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɨʀ ɿɧɮɨɪɦɚɰɿʀ», No. 12 (124), December 2004, pp. 23-42. 41 I. Gretskiy, The Orange Revolution. A Challenge for the Russian Orthodox Church, Paper presented for the 6th Pan-European International Relations Conference Making Sence of a Pluralist World, September 12-15, 2007, Turin, http://www.sgir/org/archive/turin/uploadsIgor-Turin2007FINAL/pdf, p. 8. 42 Ƚɥɚɜɚ ɍɉɐ (Ɇɉ) „ɧɚ ɩɪɟɡɢɞɟɧɬɫɬɜɨ ɛɥɚɝɨɫɥɨɜɢɜ ȼ. əɧɭɤɨɜɢɱɚ, ɚ ȼ. ɘɳɟɧɤɚ ɥɢɲɟ ɹɤ ɛɥɚɝɨɫɥɨɜɥɹɽ ɭɫɿɯ ɜɿɪɭɸɱɢɯ ɥɸɞɟɣ”, http://old.risu.org.ua/ukr/news/article;3553/. 43 30.11.2004. ɄɂȲȼ. ȼɿɞ ɿɦɟɧɿ ɋɜɹɳɟɧɧɨɝɨ ɋɢɧɨɞɭ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨʀ ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɨʀ ɐɟɪɤɜɢ Ȼɥɚɠɟɧɧɿɲɢɣ Ɇɢɬɪɨɩɨɥɢɬ ȼɨɥɨɞɢɦɢɪ ɡɜɟɪɧɭɜɫɹ ɞɨ ɧɚɪɨɞɭ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ, http://pravoslavye.org.ua/2004/11/30112004_kiyiv_vd_men_svyashchennogo_sino du_ukrainskoi_pravoslavnoi_tserkvi_blazhennshiy_mitropolit_volodimir_zvernuv sya_do_narodu_ukraini/. 44 30.11.2004. ɄɂȲȼ. ȼɿɞ ɿɦɟɧɿ ɋɜɹɳɟɧɧɨɝɨ…

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“deserves the attention of God and men.”45 It should be noted that individual senior hierarchs of the UOC MP, in contrast to their superiors, were actively involved to the very end in the campaign for Victor Yanukovych, despite the appearance of further fraudulent activity and the fact of violations of the electoral law in his favor. Metropolitan Irynei (Seredniy) of the UOC MP attended the meeting in Dnipropetrovsk at the end of the campaign before a repeat of the second round of elections in support of the presidential candidate of the ruling party. What is important is that he did this at the invitation of the district administration. The Orthodox prelate blessed Yanukovych and wished him perseverance “in the electoral battle which is not easy.”46 After the second round of the elections, when in Kiev there were mass protests against the electoral farce, Patriarch Aleksiy II sent a telegram expressing support for Kuchma.47 Two days after the Verkhovna Rada adopted a resolution on the mass violations of electoral law, the high dignitary of the UOC MP, Metropolitan Hilarion of Donetsk and Mariupol (Shukalo) sent a message “to his countrymen.” He argued that Yanukovych was competent “in all matters,” saying that he “knows and respects the rights of the Orthodox Church, and holds fast to the canonical Orthodox Church.” The hierarch of the UOC MP concluded that the candidate from the ruling body for the highest office “is a great person on whom we can rely.” The credibility of these arguments stressed how important from the point of view of neopatrimonial mechanisms is the fact that Metropolitan Hilarion personally knew Victor Yanukovych.48 The so-called All-Ukraine Congress of Sieviero: Donetsk Representatives is also worth mentioning. During the meeting, there appeared threats that if the results of the second round were not taken into account and 45

Oɥɟɝ Ɍɭɪɿɣ, ɐɟɪɤɜɚ ɿ ɜɢɛɨɪɢ: ɭɪɨɤɢ 2004 ɪɨɤɭ, http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/expert_thought/analytic/33861/. 46 Ɇɢɬɪɨɩɨɥɢɬ ɂɪɢɧɟɣ ɜɵɫɬɭɩɢɥ ɧɚ ɦɢɬɢɧɝɟ ɜ ɩɨɞɞɟɪɠɤɭ ȼɢɤɬɨɪɚ əɧɭɤɨɜɢɱɚ, http://pravoslavye.org.ua/2004/12/22122004_dnepropetrovsk_mitropolit_iriney_vi stupil_na_mitinge_v_podderzhku_Victora_yanukovicha/. 47 ɉɚɬɪɢɚɪɯ Ⱥɥɟɤɫɢɣ II ɧɚɩɪɚɜɢɥ ɬɟɥɟɝɪɚɦɦɭ ɫɨ ɫɥɨɜɚɦɢ ɩɨɞɞɟɪɠɤɢ ɉɪɟɡɢɞɟɧɬɭ ɍɤɪɚɢɧɵ Ʌɟɨɧɢɞɭ Ʉɭɱɦɟ, http://pravoslavye.org.ua/2004/11/25112004_moskva_patriarh_aleksiy_ii_napravil _telegrammu_so_slovami_podderzhki_prezidentu_ukraini_leonidu_kuchme/Aleks y do Kuczmy. 48 Ɇɢɬɪɨɩɨɥɢɬ Ⱦɨɧɟɰɤɢɣ ɢ Ɇɚɪɢɭɩɨɥɶɫɤɢɣ ɂɥɥɚɪɢɨɧ ɜɵɫɬɭɩɢɥ ɫ ɨɛɪɚɳɟɧɢɟɦ ɤ ɫɨɨɬɟɱɟɫɬɜɟɧɧɢɤɚɦ, http://pravoslavye.org.ua/2004/11/29112004_donetsk_mitropolit_donetskiy_i_mar iupolskiy_illarion_vistupil_s_obrashcheniem_k_sootechestvennikam/.

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Yanukovych was not elected president, the Eastern districts would hold a referendum on the establishment of the breakaway Republic of South Eastern Europe. Guests at the meeting included, inter alia, Victor Yanukovych himself, Moscow Mayor Yuri Luzhkov, as well as Metropolitan Yoanikiy (Kobzev) of Luhansk and Starobielsk, who called the audience to “peace and harmony” and “strict adherence to the law and constitution.” The events that took place during the convention worth recording include the presentation by Yevhen Kushn’arov, governor of Kharkiv. Expressing his opposition to the “Orange plague,” the politician declared: “We will not accept this way of life imposed on us, we do not accept foreign symbols, and our symbol is Orthodoxy!”49 Yanukovych himself during the campaign willingly exhibited his religious piety. This was certainly supposed to lend credibility to his person in the eyes of voters. At the same time, this religious nature had a very well-defined affiliation – the UOC MP. On the day before the second round of voting, Yanukovych in his “family circle” visited the KyivPochayiv Lavra to “talk to the people and pray that everything would turn out well in the country.”50 At the end of the campaign, before a repeat of the second round, the day on which there was a memorial of St. Nicholas, Yanukovych visited another important monastery – the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary in Swiatohorsk in the Donetsk region. He assured journalists that on St. Nicholas’ day, he “traditionally goes to church with his family.” He revealed that this time, he prayed for “peace, justice, order and the rebirth of Ukraine” and that “the elections be carried out fairly and transparently.”51 Throughout the campaign, Yanukovych appeared to be the only legitimate candidate – defender of the only true and “canonical” Orthodox Church in Ukraine. He made this clear during a televised debate on November 15, 2004. He emphasized the fact that he received his “anointing” in the Orthodox Church and noted that he often prays “that

49

Ɉɤɫɚɧɚ ɒɤɨɞɚ, Ƚɨɥɝɨɮɚ ȿɜɝɟɧɢɹ Ʉɭɲɧɚɪɟɜɚ, http://mezdustrok.com.ua/content/golgofa-evgeniya-kushnareva. 50 ɉɟɪɟɞ ɜɵɛɨɪɚɦɢ ȼɢɤɬɨɪ əɧɭɤɨɜɢɱ ɩɨɫɟɬɢɬ Ʉɢɟɜɨ-ɉɟɱɟɪɫɤɭɸ Ʌɚɜɪɭ, http://pravoslavye.org.ua/2004/11/19112004_kiev_pered_viborami_Victor_yanuko vich_posetit_kievo-pecherskuyu_lavru/. 51 ɋȼəɌɈȽɈɊɋɄ. ȼ ɞɟɧɶ ɫɜɹɬɨɝɨ ɇɢɤɨɥɚɹ ȼɢɤɬɨɪ əɧɭɤɨɜɢɱ ɩɨɫɟɬɢɥ ɋɜɹɬɨɍɫɩɟɧɫɤɭɸ ɋɜɹɬɨɝɨɪɫɤɭɸ ɥɚɜɪɭ, http://pravoslavye.org.ua/2004/12/20122004_svyatogorsk_v_den_svyatogo_nikola ya_Victor_yanukovich_posetil_svyato-uspenskuyu_svyatogorskuyu_lavru/.

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God forgive the sins of his opponents.”52 Also, just after losing the election in early 2005, Yanukovych declared that he would “defend the Orthodox Church in Ukraine” and “the traditional Orthodox Church,” meaning the UOC MP.53 In the literature, we can meet with the view that a close alliance between the UOC MP and the candidate of the ruling party for the presidency evolved from times when Yanukovych held the position of governor of the Donetsk region. His administration openly encouraged the UOC MP. The dominance of this community in the Donetsk region could seem natural since 81% of this area’s parishes belong to the Eastern rite.54 What’s more, former Governor Yanukovych was united by close ties to the local superior of the UOC MP – Metropolitan of Donetsk and Mariupol Hilarion (Shukalo).55 As a result, membership and loyalty to the only “canonical” Orthodox Church in Ukraine – the UOC MP – became an important element of Victor Yanukovych’s pre-election image. It seems, however, that considering the reasons for Yanukovych’s active involvement in the UOC MP during the presidential campaign in 2004 cannot be limited only to connections and relationships occurring at a time when the claimant to the highest office served as the Governor of Donetsk. It must be remembered that, in fact, the UOC MP is not an autonomous and independent ecclesial community, but is part of the Russian Orthodox Church. Therefore, Victor Yanukovych during the campaign also met with Moscow Patriarch Aleksiy II. The ROC – and automatically its Ukrainian “component” are in turn one of the Russian political tools in the post-Soviet area. And as everyone knows, the Kremlin was very keenly interested in the course and result of the race for the presidential chair in Ukraine. Therefore, Yanukovych – the candidate widely seen as being pro-Russian – could count on the support of the UOC MP regardless of his accomplishments and sympathies made during the “Donetsk” period. Perhaps transcripts of the proceedings of the Council of Archbishops of the ROC, which took place from the 3rd to the 8th of October 2004, can 52

Ⱦɟɛɚɬɢ ɘɳɟɧɤɚ Ɍɚ əɧɭɤɨɜɢɱɚ. ɋɬɟɧɨɝɪɚɦɚ, http://www.pravda.com.ua/news/2004/11/16/3004214/. 53 ɘ. Ɋɟɲɟɬɧɿɤɨɜ, Ⱦɢɜɿɬɶɫɹ, ɯɬɨ ɩɪɢɣɲɨɜ! Ɋɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɨ-ɤɨɧɮɟɫɿɣɧɿ ɫɢɦɩɚɬɿʀ ɞɟɩɭɬɚɬɿɜ ȼɟɪɯɨɜɧɨʀ Ɋɚɞɢ 2006, http://www.risu.org.ua/ukr/religion.and.society/analysis/article;11233/. 54 A. Yurash, Orthodoxy and the 2004 Ukrainian Presidential Electoral Campaign, [in:] „Religion, State & Society,” Vol. 33, No. 4, December 2005, p. 370. 55 Ɉ. Ɍɭɪɿɣ, ɐɟɪɤɜɚ ɿ ɜɢɛɨɪɢ...

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shed some light on the reasons why the UOC MP so clearly and strongly supported Victor Yanukovych during the campaign. It includes a particularly interesting record of the meeting between the council members and President Vladimir Putin. One of the speakers was the head of the UOC MP, Metropolitan Volodymyr (Sabodan). During his speech, he thanked Putin for “financial assistance” for “the city-centers of the diocese which the schismatics took over and now hold the Cathedral in their hands.”56 In response, President Putin stressed: “It cannot and does not have the right to participate in solving some of the problems of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church.” At the same time, however, he pointed out that together with Leonid Kuchma, he has already established “concrete steps to support the different objects of the Russian Orthodox Church in Ukraine.” He also announced that he was going to invite to his official birthday event both the incumbent President and the Prime Minister of Ukraine Victor Yanukovych, in order to, “under such informal circumstances”, discuss concrete support for the Russian Orthodox Church in Ukraine.57 The pro-Russian orientation on which the alliance between the UOC MP and Yanukovych was based also clearly determined the specific system solutions that displayed the neopatrimonial paradigm quite well. It was based on the conviction, rooted in the Soviet period, of a close relationship between the fates of the Orthodox Church and the State. The value of the support from the Kremlin, which was the natural consequence of belonging to the structures of the Moscow Patriarchate, would be difficult to overstate. However, its meaning should not be made absolute. Lessons learned from the experiences of the hierarchy of the Orthodox Church during the first years of Ukrainian independence have shown how important it is to have the Ukrainian authorities on their side. In preparation for the decisive battle during the election campaign, the authorities tried to pacify society’s oppositional sentiments. For this purpose, they used, among others, the All-Ukrainian Council of Churches and Religious Organizations. On October 27, 2004, under the auspices of the Council, they published a proclamation “to the Ukrainian people.” It expressed their concern over the escalation of “unfounded emotions” about the presidential elections and attempts to “lead people into the streets in order to achieve their unfounded goals.” The proclamation stated that such actions are naturally doomed to fail, and they can arouse 56

Ⱦɨɤɭɦɟɧɬɢ Ⱥɪɯɢɽɪɟɣɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɋɨɛɨɪɭ 2004 ɪ. Ɋɨɫɿɣɫɶɤɨʀ ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɨʀ ɐɟɪɤɜɢ ɳɨɞɨ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ, http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/resourses/church_doc/uocmp_doc/34699/. 57 Ⱦɨɤɭɦɟɧɬɢ Ⱥɪɯɢɽɪɟɣɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɋɨɛɨɪɭ 2004 ɪ. Ɋɨɫɿɣɫɶɤɨʀ...

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“anxiety, uncertainty and lack of faith.” This, in turn, can effectively destroy the existing harmony based on “interreligious and international peace, civil harmony and stability,” which is “an undeniable result of democratic development and strengthening the independence of Ukraine.”58 This presentation was the obvious way to disavow the actions of the “Orange” opposition which, in the face of a brutal campaign and highly probable attempts at the falsification of election results, mobilized their electorate. The authorities wanted to use the jusridiction of the Council and its associates in virtually all major religious communities. However, the case was more complicated because not all representatives of churches affiliated to the Council signed the cited proclamation. There was a notable lack of signatures from the superiors of the UOC KP and the Greek Catholic Church. Meanwhile, according to the Statute of the Council, its resolutions may be declared officially accepted only in the event that they become the subject of consensus by all its members. For this reason alone, the mentioned proclamation could not be circulated as an official document of the Council. Moreover, media reports indicated that the initiator of the pre-election copy of the manifesto was the State Committee for Religious Affairs, and the resolution was passed through phone calls and faxes. In fact, there was no meeting of the Council during which there were procedures concerning the proclamation’s text.59 So it seems that in this case, the authorities tried to transform the religious communities affiliated with the Council into part of the “administrative resources” that were to work for Victor Yanukovych’s candidacy. Through their opposition to such practices, the superiors of the UOC KP and the Greek Catholic Church emphasized the autonomy of their communities within the political system. As it turned out, it also had its institutional basis – in the form of the Council of Christian Churches of Ukraine (CCCU).60 This structure was formed just before the run-up to the presidential campaign. This fact can be interpreted as an attempt on the part of the religious communities to create a body independent from the body of representative authorities. In the heated period of the “Orange Revolution,” the Council became a viable alternative to the vulnerable under pressure government administration of the All-Ukrainian Council of 58 Ɂɜɟɪɧɟɧɧɹ ȼɫɟɭɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨʀ ɪɚɞɢ ɐɟɪɤɨɜ ɿ ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɢɯ ɨɪɝɚɧɿɡɚɰɿɣ ɞɨ ɭɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɧɚɪɨɞɭ ɧɚɩɟɪɟɞɨɞɧɿ ɜɢɛɨɪɿɜ ɉɪɟɡɢɞɟɧɬɚ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ, http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/resourses/church_doc/ecumen_doc/33534/. 59 Ɉ. Ɍɭɪɿɣ, ɐɟɪɤɜɚ ɿ ɜɢɛɨɪɢ... 60 Ɉɥɟɤɫɚɧɞɪ Ɂɚɽɰɶ, ɏɬɨ ɽ ɯɬɨ ɜ ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɨɦɭ ɫɩɿɜɬɨɜɚɪɢɫɬɜɿ, http://religions.unian.ua/dialogue/235749-hto-e-hto-v-religiynomuspivtovaristvi.html.

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Churches and Religious Organizations. For us, it is a very important fact that the core of the CCCU was formed by the spiritual heads of the UOC KP and the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church. A month before the mentioned “proclamation” by the All-Ukrainian Council of Churches, in its message, Members of the Council censured – without giving specific examples – the open involvement of religious institutions in the electoral battle. They claimed that such attempts to “replace the high social authority of the Church with political dividends” were “malicious and unlawful.”61 On September 30, 2004, so on the very day when the quoted message was published, there was a meeting of the members of the governmentdependent All-Ukrainian Council of Churches with Prime Minister Yanukovych. During the meeting, the head of the Ukrainian Autocephalous Orthodox Church, Metropolitan Methodiy (Kudriakov), on behalf of his community declared that he “carefully” examined the election program of candidates for president. As a result, he concluded that only under the leadership of Victor Yanukovych would Ukraine “be stable and offer religious peace.” He said that “otherwise,” they should expect “splits and divisions.”62 Church leaders gathered at the CCCU tried to respond promptly and publicly to developments in the battle for the presidency. After the first round, they highlighted positive developments, such as the high turnout and the involvement of many young people. They looked at the ongoing electoral process from a broader perspective, not only as the procedure for selecting a particular person for a particular position, but also as a process that would determine the “direction of the historical development of Ukraine in the coming decades.”63 In particular, this concerned the way elections are conducted. And so the representatives of the Christian community gathered in the CCCU strongly branded the proceedings of the “representatives of the various branches of power,” those who were blamed for “violating the law during elections.” These actions were unanimously classified as evil. The hierarchs gathered at the CCCU 61

Ɂɜɟɪɧɟɧɧɹ ɤɟɪɿɜɧɢɤɿɜ ɯɪɢɫɬɢɹɧɫɶɤɢɯ ɐɟɪɤɨɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ɞɨ ɭɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɧɚɪɨɞɭ ɡ ɩɪɢɜɨɞɭ ɜɢɛɨɪɿɜ Ƚɥɚɜɢ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨʀ ɞɟɪɠɚɜɢ (30 wrzeĞnia 2004), http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/resourses/church_doc/ecumen_doc/33533/. 62 ɉɪɟɞɫɬɨɹɬɟɥɶ ɍȺɉɐ ɜɩɟɜɧɟɧɢɣ, ɳɨ ɥɢɲɟ ɡɚ ɩɪɟɡɢɞɟɧɬɫɬɜɚ ȼ. əɧɭɤɨɜɢɱɚ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɚ ɞɨɫɹɝɧɟ ɫɬɚɛɿɥɶɧɨɫɬɿ ɬɚ ɰɟɪɤɨɜɧɨɝɨ ɦɢɪɭ, http://old.risu.org.ua/ukr/news/article;3275/. 63 Ɂɜɟɪɧɟɧɧɹ ɤɟɪɿɜɧɢɤɿɜ ɯɪɢɫɬɢɹɧɫɶɤɢɯ ɐɟɪɤɨɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ɞɨ ɫɩɿɜɝɪɨɦɚɞɹɧ ɧɚɩɟɪɟɞɨɞɧɿ ɞɪɭɝɨɝɨ ɬɭɪɭ ɜɢɛɨɪɿɜ ɩɪɟɡɢɞɟɧɬɚ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ (November 11, 2004), http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/resourses/church_doc/ecumen_doc/33535/.

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mentioned that if someone with authority multiplies “evil and injustice,” he sins against God and will be “appropriately punished.”64 A few days later, members of the CCCU protested against the use of the Churches in the election campaign. Among other things, they challenged the “religious activists,” through their participation in the “political agitation,” not to “humiliate the Church and not to change Christian holy words and symbols in the additions to the agitation campaign.”65 They appealed to people “not to identify with the actions and speeches of individual religious activists with the position of all the Churches of Ukraine.”66 It was a clear allusion to the activities of representatives of various communities related to the UOC MP. In their speeches, representatives of the gathered Council of Christian Communities of Ukraine emphasized the constitutional principle of separation of church and state, but at the same time pointed out that religious communities cannot be separated from society. Hence, this resulted in their right to a “moral appraisal of events in society.”67 That is why religious communities should not alienate themselves from the social and political spheres of life. They also have a role to play in the electoral process. According to members of CCCU, they are called to more than just prayers “for fair elections (...),” but also to “articulate Christian teachings formed on the principles of moral criteria which should guide participants during the election campaign.”68 During the most intensely heated period of the “Orange Revolution,” the superiors of the UOC KP, the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church and the Protestant and Roman Catholic communities supported the action of civil disobedience towards the authority. They emphatically stated: “When the President, the guarantor of the Constitution, does not fulfill his obligations, the nation becomes the guarantor that appears in the public square demanding the truth.”69 64

Ɂɜɟɪɧɟɧɧɹ ɤɟɪɿɜɧɢɤɿɜ ɯɪɢɫɬɢɹɧɫɶɤɢɯ... Ɂɚɹɜɚ ɧɚɪɚɞɢ ɩɪɟɞɫɬɚɜɧɢɤɿɜ ɯɪɢɫɬɢɹɧɫɶɤɢɯ ɐɟɪɤɨɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ɡ ɩɪɢɜɨɞɭ ɫɩɪɨɛ ɜɢɤɨɪɢɫɬɚɧɧɹ ɐɟɪɤɜɢ ɭ ɜɢɛɨɪɱɿɣ ɤɚɦɩɚɧɿʀ (November 17, 2004), http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/resourses/church_doc/ecumen_doc/34081. 66 Ɂɚɹɜɚ ɇɚɪɚɞɢ ɩɪɟɞɫɬɚɜɧɢɤɿɜ ɯɪɢɫɬɢɹɧɫɶɤɢɯ ɐɟɪɤɨɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ɡ ɩɪɢɜɨɞɭ ɫɩɪɨɛ… 67 Ɂɜɟɪɧɟɧɧɹ ɤɟɪɿɜɧɢɤɿɜ ɯɪɢɫɬɢɹɧɫɶɤɢɯ ɐɟɪɤɨɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ɞɨ ɭɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɧɚɪɨɞɭ ɡ ɩɪɢɜɨɞɭ ɜɢɛɨɪɿɜ… 68 Ɂɚɹɜɚ ɧɚɪɚɞɢ ɩɪɟɞɫɬɚɜɧɢɤɿɜ ɯɪɢɫɬɢɹɧɫɶɤɢɯ ɐɟɪɤɨɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ɡ ɩɪɢɜɨɞɭ ɫɩɪɨɛ… 69 ȼɿɞɤɪɢɬɢɣ ɥɢɫɬ ɱɢɧɧɨɦɭ ɉɪɟɡɢɞɟɧɬɭ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ɩɚɧɭ Ʌɟɨɧɿɞɭ Ʉɭɱɦɿ, http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/resourses/church_doc/ecumen_doc/33537/. 65

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A few days before the repeat of the second round of voting, the members of the CCCU said that, given the magnitude of counterfeiting involved in the election results, “events broke through the purely political framework.” They stressed that “participants of mass actions of protest were not executors of someone’s technocratic calculations, but fighters for truth and the right to choose – both for oneself and for one’s political opponents.”70 There is no doubt that such an attitude, under the particular circumstances of that time, was only apparently neutral, but in fact it meant support for the “Orange opposition.”71 Victor Yushchenko did not initially display his religiosity. But the campaign rhetoric grew increasingly harsh, and the clergy subordinate to the Moscow Patriarchate also excelled in this. Yushchenko was called the “agent of the Uniates and Protestants,” “the Antichrist”72 and “servant of Satan.” Under these circumstances, the leader of the anti-Kuchma opposition began to publicly exhibit his deep ties with Orthodoxy.73 Victor Yushchenko’s “religious discourse” had a much more universal character. He appealed to the “fundamental values of conscience,”74 trying to stay above inter-religious divisions, in particular those that had arisen within the Ukrainian Orthodox Church. Although Yushchenko enjoyed the support of the UOC KP and the Greek Catholic Church, at the initiative of his staff, he also met with Metropolitan Volodymyr (Sabodan) during the election campaign. Yet the head of the UOC MP immediately afterwards disavowed the importance of this meeting and made it clearly understood that Yanukovych is “his” candidate.75 However, voters were given a clear signal – in the case of victory, Yushchenko will respect the existing principle of religious pluralism. The day after the televised debate, the opposition candidate declared that his “Eastern Orthodox faith teaches one thing – tolerance and respect for different ways of thinking, towards other 70

Ɂɜɟɪɧɟɧɧɹ ɤɟɪɿɜɧɢɤɿɜ ɯɪɢɫɬɢɹɧɫɶɤɢɯ ɐɟɪɤɨɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ɞɨ ɫɩɿɜɝɪɨɦɚɞɹɧ ɧɚɩɟɪɟɞɨɞɧɿ ɩɨɜɬɨɪɧɨɝɨ ɝɨɥɨɫɭɜɚɧɧɹ 26 ɝɪɭɞɧɹ 2004 ɪ, http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/resourses/church_doc/ecumen_doc/33538/. 71 Andriy Yurash pointed this out – cf. A. Yurash, Orthodoxy and the 2004 Ukrainian…, pp. 377-378. 72 A. Yurash, Orthodoxy and the 2004 Ukrainian…, p. 370. 73 Ɉ. Ɍɭɪɿɣ, ɐɟɪɤɜɚ ɿ ɜɢɛɨɪɢ… 74 ȼ. ȯɥɟɧɫɶɤɢɣ, Ⱦɟɪɠɚɜɚ ɬɚ ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɿ ɿɧɫɬɢɬɭɰɿʀ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ ɞɨ ɿ ɩɿɫɥɹ ɉɨɦɚɪɚɧɱɟɜɨʀ ɪɟɜɨɥɸɰɿʀ: ɩɨɥɿɬɢɱɧɢɣ ɞɢɫɤɭɪɫ, in: „Ɋɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɚ ɫɜɨɛɨɞɚ. ȼɡɚɽɦɢɧɢ ɞɟɪɠɚɜɢ ɿ ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɢɯ ɨɪɝɚɧɿɡɚɰɿɣ: ɩɪɚɜɨɜɿ ɬɚ ɩɨɥɿɬɢɱɧɿ ɚɫɩɟɤɬɢ” No. 10, Ʉɢʀɜ 2006, pp. 99-100. 75 Ƚɥɚɜɚ ɍɉɐ (Ɇɉ) „ɧɚ ɩɪɟɡɢɞɟɧɬɫɬɜɨ ɛɥɚɝɨɫɥɨɜɢɜ ȼ. əɧɭɤɨɜɢɱɚ, ɚ ȼ. ɘɳɟɧɤɚ ɥɢɲɟ ɹɤ ɛɥɚɝɨɫɥɨɜɥɹɽ ɭɫɿɯ ɜɿɪɭɸɱɢɯ ɥɸɞɟɣ”, http://old.risu.org.ua/ukr/news/article;3553/.

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religions.” He clarified that people would be free to attend the Church which they considered appropriate to attend, and added: “I want to clearly say one thing: civil authority will not interfere in the affairs of the Church, or in the activities of any religious confession.”76 An excellent illustration of the mood within the party of the opposition candidate and their supporters was the atmosphere at Maidan Nezalezhnosti [Independence Square, Kiev]. During the December protests, a UOC MP chapel functioned there, in which the members of different communities prayed for “the victory of love, truth and justice (...) and for the unity of Ukraine.”77 Representatives of all the major religious communities appeared on the stage alongside Victor Yushchenko, from the UOC KP and also including representatives of the Jewish community. The last to appear was the priest from the UOC MP from the native village of the opposition candidate – Khoruzhivka. As the media reported, it was this clergyman who heard Yushchenko’s confession before the start of the election campaign.78 It seems that by only counting on the support of the UOC MP, Yanukovych’s campaign staff made a mistake. His strategy advisers did not take into account the fact that in Ukraine, none of the churches were in a position to obtain the All-Ukrainian community status. Moreover, in this country, relations in the confessional sphere are based on the principle of pluralism.79 The state often interfered in religious matters. However, none of the previously ruling teams dared to openly negate this fundamental principle. Yanukovych’s obeisance towards the UOC MP and the intrusive agitation that was carried out by this Church at all levels – from the highest hierarchy, to parish clergy80 – seemed to clearly indicate that the fragile confessional balance based on pluralism was seriously threatened. This further integrated the opposition and led other confessions to actively participate in the events of the “Orange Revolution.”81 76 Ɉɛɢɞɜɚ ɤɚɧɞɢɞɚɬɢ ɜ ɉɪɟɡɢɞɟɧɬɢ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ɜɢɡɧɚɸɬɶ ɫɟɛɟ ɩɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɢɦɢ ɜɿɪɭɸɱɢɦɢ, http://old.risu.org.ua/ukr/news/article;3599/. 77 ɐɟɪɤɜɢ ɿ ɜɥɚɞɚ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ ɧɚɩɟɪɟɞɨɞɧɿ…, pp. 7-8. 78 ɐɟɪɤɜɢ ɿ ɜɥɚɞɚ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ ɧɚɩɟɪɟɞɨɞɧɿ…, p. 7. 79 I. Gretskiy, The Orange Revolution…, p. 11. 80 A. Yurash, Orthodoxy and the 2004 Ukrainian…, pp. 372-374; I. Gretskiy, The Orange Revolution…, p. 10. 81 Sometimes it took on a rather peculiar form, such as in Drohobych, where on the eve of the vote the Greek Catholic priests visited members of the electoral commission, and suggested making an oath on the Bible that they would not falsify the election results. However, on the day of the vote at the election committee there was prayer all day long, during which residents along with the priest

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During the “Orange Revolution,” the empowerment of the public occurred within the political system. Religious communities that supported the fight for fair elections were one such contributor to this empowerment. From our point of view, particularly important was the involvement of the UOC KP and the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church. For them to be able to play such a role, they themselves had to first become independent of the government authorities. In other words, the Orthodox hierarchy had to make a choice between the real will and genuine sentiments of their faithful, and the obligations which flowed from the neopatrimonially dependent network in which religious communities were involved in their relations with the structures of state authorities. Actions and statements by representatives of religious communities affiliated to the Council of Christian Churches of Ukraine seemed to indicate that this is precisely what happened, and at least part of the religious subsystem matured enough for it to function on the principles of genuine autonomy within the political system. But pretty soon it became clear that, the “Orange Revolution” did not bring about as much of a breakthrough as might have been expected on the basis of its related program declarations in the religious sphere and other areas of social life. As a confirmation of this, it is worth recalling the specific common appeal of the representatives of the All-Ukrainian Council of Churches and Religious Organizations and the State Committee for Religious Affairs. It appeared on January 11, 2005, when Victor Yushchenko’s victory had not yet formally been announced, but was already quite obvious. The introduction to this document contained “ritual” verses about the “dignity” and “maturity” of the Ukrainian nation. Next, there was a diagnosis of the causes of tensions related with the presidential elections. According to the authors, the appeals arose from “serious problems [with] the spiritual condition of society.” And it is this “crisis of society” which should become a matter of concern for “all people of good will,” and not just “numerous violations of the laws of God and humanity” during the elections. Another problem that appeared quite critically during the presidential campaign was “the nature and limits of the participation of churches and religious organizations in the political process.” The authors of the document drew attention to “the value of the words of the spiritual leaders, who millions of citizens trust” and the responsibility related with it. They also stressed that in situations such as the one associated with the “demonstrated a commitment to truth and goodness.” – ɐɟɪɤɜɢ ɿ ɜɥɚɞɚ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ ɧɚɩɟɪɟɞɨɞɧɿ…, p. 27.

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elections of 2004, representatives of churches should “refer to values, not political figures, cherish the truth and not to resort to political agitation.” They put forth the thesis that “peace between people of different faith confessions” was kept thanks to cooperation between “society, the state and the churches.” In conclusion, the signatories of this document called on “all” to “stay together with us!”82 Quite intriguing seems the list of the signatories on the mentioned proclamation. We find among them the heads of the UOC MP, the UAOC and the Head of the State Committee for Religious Affairs of Ukraine, Victor Bondarenko. In the light of the facts available, these people, or the institutions they represent, should first of all beat their chests and critically look at their attitudes during the election campaign. Together with them, the head of the UOC KP, who supported the “Orange Revolution,” gave his signature. It seems that the authors of the document wanted to suggest that no one is without fault. This becomes especially clear in the light of the analysis of the relationship between the state and churches, which Bondarenko did somewhat later. In his opinion, the representatives of the Council of Christian Churches of Ukraine were only at the beginning limited to appeals for fairness during elections. However, later they directly supported Victor Yushchenko – just like the UOC MP which promoted Victor Yanukovych. As proof, Bondarenko presented the participation of representatives united in the Council in the “events on Maydan” in Kiev. However, it seems that we should be very careful in formulating any analogy concerning religious communities engaging on the sides of both candidates. This is especially so after the Verkhovna Rada’s ruling about the need for a repeat of the second round of elections, when the UOC MP’s clergy, which still actively supported Victor Yanukovych, regardless of their actual subjective intentions, legitimized the model of government based on lies and injustice. At the same time, this very fact created a kind of alibi for representatives of various communities, including the UOC KP and the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church, who openly engage in activities of the “Orange” opposition. Here, in turn, regardless of the real intentions of individual hierarchs, their participation in the campaign on the side of Victor Yushchenko became a part of the battle for truth and change that was based on neopatrimonial regularities of the system. Another matter concerns whether indeed all members of the clergy understood the meaning of the events in which they participated in such a way. 82

ɋɩɿɥɶɧɚ ɡɚɹɜɚ ɱɥɟɧɿɜ ȼɫɟɭɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨʀ ɪɚɞɢ ɰɟɪɤɨɜ ɿ ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɢɯ ɨɪɝɚɧɿɡɚɰɿɣ ɬɚ ɤɨɥɟɝɿʀ Ⱦɟɪɠɚɜɧɨɝɨ ɤɨɦɿɬɟɬɭ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ɭ ɫɩɪɚɜɚɯ ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣ, http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/resourses/church_doc/ecumen_doc/3353.

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As has already been stated, the neopatrimonial paradigm allows us to perceive the two levels on which the events associated with the “Orange Revolution” took place. On the one hand, it was a dynamic process during which the Ukrainian people received subjectivity in the political system. On the other hand, it was a chain of events associated with reshuffles within the nomenklatura – oligarchic structures. The joint mission of the All-Ukrainian Council of Churches and Religious Organizations of Ukraine and the State Committee for Religious Affairs fits in perfectly with this; let’s call it ‘another line of events’. Society is now treated in accordance with the neopatrimonial canon: as a subject of concern, it is the recipient of educational procedures of the State and the Orthodox Church, but it does not have its own subjectivity in the framework of the partner system. The content of the document shows that the signatories cannot or do not want to look critically at their own attitude and the role they played during the turbulent election campaign. However, their efforts were clearly directed at the legitimacy of the order, which emerged as a result of a compromise between the leaders of the “Orange” opposition and the ruling party. Thus, from this, we probably got the ideas concerning a “new quality” and “new reality” in Ukrainian politics, which, as the authors of the appeals argued, introduced morality. It should be noted that these evaluations were formulated at a time when virtually nothing was known about this new order. This attitude of the signatories’ mission seems to prove that the religious subsystem still had not acquired the necessary autonomy in relation to the political sphere. For this reason, the aforementioned response lacked, among others, the signature of the superior of the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church. Metropolitan Lubomyr (Husar) stated that the document had “a purely political nature.” It seems that the Ukrainian Greek Catholic hierarch tried to consistently stand on the basis of the principle of independence between the political and religious spheres. Therefore, he considered the attempts to review the activities of religious communities undertaken together with representatives of state authorities to be “illogical.” He stated that if any church or religious organization has something to complain about, “her regrets and conversion should flow out of her own inner spirit.”83 The fact that the “Orange Revolution” introduced a “new quality” of politics was undoubtedly proven by the symbolic layer of the ceremonial meeting at the Cathedral of St. Sofia between the newly elected President Yushchenko and the representatives of all the major Christian communities 83 Ƚɥɚɜɚ ɍȽɄɐ ɧɟ ɩɿɞɩɢɫɚɜ ɫɩɿɥɶɧɭ ɡɚɹɜɭ ȼɊɐ ɿ ɤɨɥɟɝɿʀ Ⱦɟɪɠɤɨɦɪɟɥɿɝɿɣ ɱɟɪɟɡ ʀʀ ɡɚɩɨɥɿɬɢɡɨɜɚɧɿɫɬɶ, http://www.old.risu.org.ua/ukr/news/article;4294/.

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in Ukraine. A blessing for the head of the state was given by both hierarchs, those who supported the “Orange” as well as those who fought for the “Blue.”84 On his part, the president asked the clergy to support him through prayer. He also assured that his team would “always ask for pastoral counseling and pastoral presence.”85 Behind the curtain of the fullness of courtesy gestures, however, were hidden – at least on the side of the clergy – specific expectations. Even during his speech at the Cathedral of St. Sofia, the superior of the UAOC, Metropolitan Methodiy (Kudriakov) expressed the hope that the president would help to unite the divided Orthodox into one Church86. Patriarch Filaret expected concrete support from the new government in constructing the UOC KP’s structures. A year and a half later, he said in an interview: “We saw the nation’s quest for truth, justice, democracy and freedom in the Orange Revolution. But after the victory of the revolution, the Patriarchate of Kiev did not receive anything. Just as in Eastern Ukraine they did not return our churches, also during these one and a half years they still have not given us any of them.”87 The events following the months after Victor Yushchenko’s swearing into office showed how exaggerated the formulated theses of a “new quality” in Ukrainian politics were. There also did not undergo changes in the material, formal and legal circumstances under which the major religious communities in Ukraine functioned. It would also be difficult to expect that such a short period of time would change the way of understanding the place and role of religion in the social sphere and political system. This especially applies to the elite of the Orthodox Church, whose mentality was influenced by the nomenklatura and neopatrimonial mechanisms that significantly ordered these spheres. In our brief and necessarily selective description of Ukrainian realities, we refer to only one but nonetheless very meaningful example that confirms this assumption88. It concerns the elections of local government

84

Ɉɤɫɚɧɚ Ʌiɝɨɫɬɨɜɚ, ɘɳɟɧɤɚ ɛɥɚɝɨɫɥɨɜɢɥɢ ɥiɞɟɪɢ ɭɫiɯ ɭɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɢɯ ɯɪɢɫɬɢɹɧɫɶɤɢɯ ɰɟɪɤɨɜ, http://hram.od.ua/newspodrobno.php?news=254/. 85 ɘɳɟɧɤɨ: ɉɨɦɨɝɚɣɬɟ ɧɚɦ ɫɜɨɢɦɢ ɦɨɥɢɬɜɚɦɢ ɢ ɛɥɚɝɨɫɥɨɜɟɧɢɟɦ, http://archive.mignews.com.ua/articles/148742.htm. 86 Ɉ. Ʌiɝɨɫɬɨɜɚ, ɘɳɟɧɤɚ ɛɥɚɝɨɫɥɨɜɢɥɢ ɥiɞɟɪɢ... 87 ɉɚɬɪɿɚɪɯ Ɏɿɥɚɪɟɬ: ɧɚɣɛɿɥɶɲɟ ɧɚɦ ɩɨɬɪɿɛɧɟ ɽɞɧɚɧɧɹ ɭɤɪɚʀɧɫɬɜɚ in: ɘɪɿɣ Ⱦɨɪɨɲɟɧɤɨ, Ȼɟɡ ɞɨɝɦɚɬɭ. Ɋɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɿ ɦɚɝɿɫɬɪɚɥɿ, Ʉɢʀɜ, əɪɨɫɥɚɜɿɜ ȼɚɥ, 2012, p. 492. 88 For more on the topic of the presence of clergymen in Ukrainian political life see: Rafaá KĊsek, Rola duchowieĔstwa zakonnego w Īyciu spoáeczno-politycznym

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authorities in 2010. Among the candidates for deputies of villages councils, regions and districts were a large group of clergymen. The representatives of the clergy have always been present on the lists of candidates in local elections in Ukraine. The Head of the Department of Information and Education of the UOC MP, Fr. Georgy Kovalenko, stated that “there is already a certain tradition,” and running in the elections can “bear witness to the church and help the Orthodox community.”89 He added that in the evaluation of the representative of Ukraine’s secular authorities – Hanna Herman – the clergy could join political parties and fully participate in the elections. “It’s a matter of conscience” – emphasized the deputy head of the Presidential Administration of Ukraine.90 However, in 2010, the scale of this phenomenon was somewhat surprising – at least for Ukrainian observers and analysts. 20 to 30 clergymen ran in each of the districts in the elections to the various councils.91 In total, across the country, 260 clergy won the local government mandates.92 Most of the candidates came from the two largest Orthodox communities – the UOC MP and the UOC KP. The content of the speech in which representatives of the Orthodox Church justified running in the elections is significant. Of course, we can find vague slogans about introducing “social justice”93 or “defending the interests of their parishioners.”94 One of the bishops of the UOC KP argued that the clergy best know the needs of their parishioners and the “inhabitants of a territorial community,” and this is why his participation in the electoral race could be seen as justified. However, the conditions in Ukraine somehow force the Orthodox Church to send her representatives to the local representative bodies, as it is the only effective way to fight for the right to exist in a given territory. In practice, the distributors of property which can be used for purposes of worship are the local state Ukrainy in: Rola monasterów w ksztátowaniu kultury ukraiĔskiej w wiekach XI-XX, A. Gronek, A. Nowak (eds.), Kraków: Szwajpolt Fiol, 2014, pp. 357-361. 89 ȯɜɝɟɧ ɋɨɥɨɧɢɧɚ, ɋɜɹɳɟɧɢɤɢ ɛɚɥɨɬɭɸɬɶɫɹ ɭ ɞɟɩɭɬɚɬɢ – ɡɚɯɢɫɬ ɰɟɪɤɜɢ ɱɢ ɩɨɥɿɬɬɟɯɧɨɥɨɝɿɹ?, http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/monitoring/society_digest/38551/. 90 ȯ. ɋɨɥɨɧɢɧɚ, ɋɜɹɳɟɧɢɤɢ ɛɚɥɨɬɭɸɬɶɫɹ… 91 ȯ. ɋɨɥɨɧɢɧɚ, ɋɜɹɳɟɧɢɤɢ ɛɚɥɨɬɭɸɬɶɫɹ… 92 ȼ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ 260 ɩɪɟɞɫɬɚɜɧɢɤɿɜ ɞɭɯɨɜɟɧɫɬɜɚ ɦɚɸɬɶ ɩɨɫɜɿɞɱɟɧɧɹ ɞɟɩɭɬɚɬɿɜ ɪɿɡɧɢɯ ɪɿɜɧɿɜ, http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/all_news/community/religion_and_policy/39328/. 93 Ⱥɪɯɢɽɩɢɫɤɨɩ ɍɉɐ Ʉɉ ɞɨ Ɍɟɪɧɨɩɿɥɶɫɶɤɨʀ ɦɿɫɶɤɪɚɞɢ ɣɞɟ ɹɤ ɞɟɩɭɬɚɬɦɚɠɨɪɢɬɚɪɧɢɤ ɜɿɞ ɩɚɪɬɿʀ „Ɂɚ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɭ!”, http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/all_news/community/religion_and_policy/38565/. 94 ȯ. ɋɨɥɨɧɢɧɚ, ɋɜɹɳɟɧɢɤɢ ɛɚɥɨɬɭɸɬɶɫɹ…

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authorities. Often, “to be or not to be” for a particular parish or prospects of the Church in a region depend on their arbitrary decision. Simply, for this reason, the presence of the clergy in the representative bodies of peripheral boards or city councils gets its rationale. Also, we ought to keep in mind that an important part of the political image of the most important Ukrainian party is the statement of support for the “pro-Moscow” or “pro-Ukrainian” faction of the Orthodox Church. Hence, the decision to transfer the use of some property acquires the status of a political decision – especially when it concerns a shrine which is a symbol resulting from Ukrainian history and culture. They are allotted, and the community that wants to have a real impact on its course and the final result has no other choice – they must have their representatives in the local decision-making bodies. The UOC KP’s spokesman bishop Yevstratiy Zorya stressed that the church that does not have her own deputies does not count, meaning that “in principle” she will not be given a plot of land or even “in principle” would be denied a building permit.95 The above-mentioned Georgy Kovalenko of the UOC MP added that people associated with government circles formed a “closed club,” and so the deputies in cassocks have more opportunities to “reach out to local authorities from the point of view of the Orthodox Church.”96 It should be noted, however, that in practice, we can notice a lack of unanimity and consistency in the approach to the issue of the participation of the clergy from various Orthodox Churches in the struggle for seats in local representative bodies. In the case of the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church, in June 2004, the Synod of Bishops of the Kyiv-Halich Metropoly, when “taking into account the specific characteristics of the current social situation in Ukraine,” allowed the clergy to run in the elections for local authorities, but only on the non-party lists.97 However, somewhat later, in 2006, the same synod forbade the clergy to run in elections for authoritative bodies “at all levels.”98 However, it seems that the Ukrainian Greek Catholic hierarchy was not able to enforce this 95

Ʌɟɫɹ Ƚɨɥɨɜɚɬɚ, Ɉɥɟɤɫɚɧɞɪ ȼɨɞɿɧ, Ɉɥɟɤɫɿɣ Ɍɢɲɟɧɤɨ, ɋɜɹɳɟɧɢɤɢ ɣɞɭɬɶ ɭ ɩɨɥɿɬɢɤɭ, http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/monitoring/society_digest/38447/. 96 Ʌ. Ƚɨɥɨɜɚɬɚ, Ɉ. ȼɨɞɿɧ, Ɉ. Ɍɢɲɟɧɤɨ, ɋɜɹɳɟɧɢɤɢ ɣɞɭɬɶ… 97 ɉɨɫɬɚɧɨɜɢ ɞɜɚɞɰɹɬɶ ɬɪɟɬɶɨʀ ɫɟɫɿʀ ɋɢɧɨɞɭ ɽɩɢɫɤɨɩɿɜ Ʉɢɽɜɨ-Ƚɚɥɢɰɶɤɨʀ ɦɢɬɪɨɩɨɥɿʀ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨʀ Ƚɪɟɤɨɤɚɬɨɥɢɰɶɤɨʀ ɐɟɪɤɜɢ [in:] ɋɨɰɿɚɥɶɧɨ ɡɨɪɿɽɧɬɨɜɚɧɿ ɞɨɤɭɦɟɧɬɢ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨʀ Ƚɪɟɤɨɤɚɬɨɥɢɰɶɤɨʀ ɐɟɪɤɜɢ (1989-2008), Ʌɶɜɿɜ 2008, p. 314. 98 ȼɥɚɞɢɫɥɚɜ Ɇɚɥɶɰɟɜ, Ⱦɭɯɨɜɟɧɫɬɜɨ ɍɤɪɚɢɧɵ ɜɫɟ ɚɤɬɢɜɧɟɟ ɜɤɥɸɱɚɟɬɫɹ ɜ ɩɨɥɢɬɢɱɟɫɤɭɸ ɛɨɪɶɛɭ, http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/monitoring/society_digest/38271/.

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prohibition. At least when it comes to the Ternopil-Zboriv Diocese, there was no shortage of priests who considered it appropriate to run for a seat in the representative bodies at various levels, and the local bishop only “recommended” moderation when it came to direct participation in the electoral competition.99 The hierarchy of the UOC MP also held conflicting views on issues concerning clergymen running in the elections. The secretary of Odessa Diocese community stated that Ukraine, so far, lacked the “normal conditions for the activity of the Orthodox Church.” Therefore, she must also “support the forces that care for canonical Orthodoxy.” In his opinion, in this respect, the Party of Regions is the “mainstream.”100 However, Metropolitan Nifont (Solodukha) of Lutsk and Volyn of the UOC MP held quite a different opinion on this issue. Officially, he forbade the clergy of his diocese to participate in the race for deputy seats in local government bodies. He considered priests starting in the elections to be an action contrary to the constitutional principle of separation of church and state.101 It seems that the UOC KP’s hierarchy are most consequential when it comes to the involvement of the clergy in the election. Perhaps Father Vitaly Sobko, Volyn Diocese’s spokesman, best reflects what the superiors of the community think about this. According to him, priests have the right to run for elections, provided that they do so with “Christian” intentions. In other words, the validity of such activities depends on having the right “intent and goals” of the candidate in a cassock.102 Oksana Dashchakivska, the director of the Lviv Branch of the Ukrainian election monitoring process (called the “Committee of Voters of Ukraine”) found that in many cases, at the local level, various political powers were actively seeking candidates from the priesthood. Their presence on the electoral list is treated as a magnet for attracting voters. Therefore, it is sometimes claimed that they are even “hunting for priests.”103 This statement may be taken as an attempt to explain the 99 ɇɚ Ɍɟɪɧɨɩɿɥɥɿ ɭ ɞɟɩɭɬɚɬɢ ɣɞɭɬɶ ɞɟɫɹɬɤɢ ɫɜɹɳɟɧɢɤɿɜ http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/all_news/community/religion_and_policy/38380/. 100 ȼ. Ɇɚɥɶɰɟɜ, Ⱦɭɯɨɜɟɧɫɬɜɨ ɍɤɪɚɢɧɵ ɜɫɟ ɚɤɬɢɜɧɟɟ… 101 Ⱦɭɯɨɜɟɧɫɬɜɭ ȼɨɥɢɧɫɶɤɨʀ ɽɩɚɪɯɿʀ ɍɉɐ ɡɚɛɨɪɨɧɢɥɢ ɛɚɥɨɬɭɜɚɬɢɫɶ ɜ ɞɟɩɭɬɚɬɢ, http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/all_news/community/religion_and_policy/38300/. 102 ɍ ȼɨɥɢɧɫɶɤɿɣ ɽɩɚɪɯɿʀ ɍɉɐ Ʉɉ ɜɜɚɠɚɸɬɶ, ɳɨ ɫɜɹɳɟɧɢɤ ɦɨɠɟ ɛɭɬɢ ɞɟɩɭɬɚɬɨɦ http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/all_news/community/religion_and_policy/38312/. 103 B. Ɇɚɥɶɰɟɜ, Ⱦɭɯɨɜɟɧɫɬɜɨ ɍɤɪɚɢɧɵ ɜɫɟ ɚɤɬɢɜɧɟɟ…

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reasons for which running in the elections as representatives of the various religious communities is so tempting. Every day, in relations with state authorities, they are in the position of an applicant. In the statements of Dashchakivska, we can assume that the elections, and more specifically the time for arranging the lists of candidates, are the moments when the structures of the Orthodox Church’s representatives receive subjectivity in dealing with actual or potential local decision-makers. This is due to the social authority that a given Orthodox church possesses, or to which it is attributed. The benefits to be derived from participation in local government bodies was mentioned, inter alia, by one of the most prominent hierarchs of the UOC MP – the vicar of the Kyiv-Pechersk Lavra, Metropolitan Pavel (Lebid). For two years, he was a council member of the city of Kiev. For his achievements as a deputy of Kiev, he succeeded in obtaining “a number of plots,” participated in the development of “certain documents” and had an influence on judicial decisions.104 However, contrary to expectations, in the elections of 2010, this hierarch did not run for candidacy. He claimed that he was “tired.” “To say one thing and do another – I do not have enough strength to face this untruth” he complained in an interview.105 He stated that a priest “does not have to be engaged in policies to be involved in issues which God had called him to.” Immediately afterwards, however, he added that the times were “not easy” and therefore sometimes the clergy should take part in political life.106 It turns out that this prelate was active not only as a priest and a politician but also an entrepreneur. At the same time, there are indications that, by acting in the economic sphere, he brilliantly used the pathologies appropriate to the post-communist realities when merging public and private property. As reported by the Ukrainian media, at least one of the auxiliary properties of the Lavra is formally and legally owned by Metropolitan Pavel (Lebid) himself. 107 In other words, this hierarch has become the actual owner of the estate, which in theory should belong to the Orthodox Church. This situation is reminiscent of the known mechanisms of the secular sphere of the so-called “privatization” that in 104 „ɋɜɹɳɟɧɢɤ ɧɟ ɩɨɜɢɧɟɧ ɛɭɬɢ ɜ ɩɨɥɿɬɢɰɿ. ȼɿɧ ɩɨɜɢɧɟɧ ɡɚɣɦɚɬɢɫɹ ɬɢɦɢ ɫɩɪɚɜɚɦɢ, ɞɨ ɹɤɢɯ ɣɨɝɨ ɩɪɢɡɜɚɜ Ƚɨɫɩɨɞɶ”, http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/expert_thought/interview/38452/. 105 „ɋɜɹɳɟɧɢɤ ɧɟ ɩɨɜɢɧɟɧ ɛɭɬɢ… 106 „ɋɜɹɳɟɧɢɤ ɧɟ ɩɨɜɢɧɟɧ ɛɭɬɢ… 107 Ɇɢɯɚɣɥɨ Ɍɤɚɱ, ɋɿɦ "ɫɦɟɪɬɧɢɯ" ɝɪɿɯɿɜ ɜɥɚɞɢɤɢ ɉɚɜɥɚ, http://www.pravda.com.ua/articles/2013/05/7/6989377/.

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the post-Soviet space often meant the seizure of the assets of the institution by its officers. Orthodox Churches are not just directly involved in the competition for seats in local representative bodies. They are also involved in the fight to support the specific candidates or particular political parties through their authority. This support has a ritualized formula – granting “a blessing” for taking part in the elections. Thus, it is no coincidence that Odessa’s Metropolitan Agatangel of the UOC MP himself in 2010 ran for the position of district board council member, and celebrated a special prayer service in the main church in Odessa. In the course of the service, he blessed the candidates of the Party of Regions from his district. In turn, the UOC KP gained an ally in the local elections in the form of the “Svoboda” nationalist party. The head of this Orthodox Church – Kiev’s Patriarch Filaret – honored the leader of “Svoboda,” Oleh Tyahnybok, with the III Class Order of St. Prince Volodymyr and “blessed” this group in their participation in local elections.108

108

ɉɚɬɪɿɚɪɯ Ɏɿɥɚɪɟɬ ɧɚɝɨɪɨɞɢɜ Ɍɹɝɧɢɛɨɤɚ ɨɪɞɟɧɨɦ ɤɧɹɡɹ ȼɨɥɨɞɢɦɢɪɚ, http://tsn.ua/ukrayina/filaret-nagorodiv-tyagniboka-ordenom-knyazyavolodimira.html.

CONCLUSIONS: PART II

In 1947, J. Hoffmann wondered what the Russian Orthodox Church would look like, while at the helm remain people who “in their adult lives were entering the era of the revolution.”1 From the perspective of subsequent years, we can state that the Orthodox hierarchy was not able to imagine the functioning of the Moscow Patriarchate outside of the Soviet party and nomenklatura system. The turn of the 80s and 90s was a time of turbulent changes in the Soviet Union associated with an attempt to at least partially democratize the political system. Sergei Filatov drew attention to the fact that in this heated period the Eastern Orthodox Church, when it came to social and political issues, mostly spoke out on the following topics: preventing all available means for the legalization of the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church, the elimination of religious “competition” which compromised cooperation with the communist regime – especially regarding the Roman Catholic Church and the emigrant Russian Orthodox Church, and – after the adoption of the law for freedom of conscience – limiting the rights of the parish in the name of “democratic centralism.”2 One gets the impression that the leadership of the Moscow Patriarchate lived under the illusion that the tested model of close cooperation with the Orthodox Church and the state continued to operate and would protect it against the wave of developments surrounding it. Therefore, Filatov said: “The question is whether the Moscow Patriarchate in fact held the principle of the separation of church and state, or rather does he dream of a new Pobiedonoscev.”3 It was in the womb of the Russian Orthodox Church that the environment of the followers of inner renewal crystallized which focused on the “Church and Perestroika” movement.4 The participants advocated, inter alia, that the Church recognized the declaration of Metropolitan Sergei as an error, demanding that the martyrs who gave their lives in the 1

J. G. M. Hoffmann, Église et Communisme..., p. 48. Les risques de « religion d’État » et les séquelles du « sergianisme », in: « Istina », No. 4 (XXXVII) 1992, p. 343. 3 Les risques de „religion d’État »..., p. 343. 4 ȼ. ȯɥɟɧɫɶɤɢɣ, Ɋɟɥɿɝɿɹ ɿ «ɩɟɪɟɛɭɞɨɜɚ»… 2

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Soviet Union for their faith be canonized, to condemn Stalin’s cult of personality and cooperation among the clergy, hierarchy and the KGB.5 Participants of this movement also considered that the internal cleansing of the Orthodox Church should be made by an act of expiation towards the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church for her participation in the liquidation. The program documents state: “the moral duty of the Russian Orthodox Church is to correct the mistakes of the past, as soon as possible to support the legalization of the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Orthodox Church, and to establish fraternal relations with her.”6 However, the environment of perestroika supporters in the Orthodox Church was very niche. This was more in the nature of a dissident movement than a broad social front. In the face of the establishment of the Moscow Patriarchate, it had no chance. Perhaps a small chance for a turning point within the Church appeared in 1990, when Patriarch Pimen died. However, his successor was very quickly and efficiently chosen – Aleksiy II. His enthronement took place in July, and a few weeks later, on September 9th, the most prominent representative of the supporters of perestroika and renewal in the Orthodox Church – Father Alexander Men, was brutally murdered. The Moscow Patriarchate appointed a special commission to investigate the circumstances surrounding the death of the famous clergyman. Shortly afterward, one of its members, who was to lead the investigation – abbot Lazar (Solnichko), was murdered in his own home. His successor, Father Seraphim also died under mysterious circumstances. Following this tragedy, the patriarchal committee ceased to further delve into the mysterious death of Fr. Men.7 The ROC entered a period of dynamic change caused by the collapse of the USSR, as its structure had been interested in maintaining the status quo shaped by previous decades. This strategy had inevitably led Ukraine into serious complications – both within the sphere of religion itself, and also at the contact point between religion and politics. At the brink of Ukrainian independence, the political and religious spheres underwent profound changes. In order to grasp their interrelations, it is worth focusing on the mechanisms which were in force both during the creation of these structures of the Orthodox Church which were independent from the Moscow Patriarchate and when the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church was leaving the underground. In the initial, “Galician” period, the issue of autocephaly was the element of competition between 5

ȼ. ȯɥɟɧɫɶɤɢɣ, Ɋɟɥɿɝɿɹ ɿ «ɩɟɪɟɛɭɞɨɜɚ»… ȼ. ȯɥɟɧɫɶɤɢɣ, Ɋɟɥɿɝɿɹ ɿ «ɩɟɪɟɛɭɞɨɜɚ»… 7 More on this subject: Le testament spirituel du Père Alexandre Men in: „Istina,” No. 1, 1992, pp. 74-77. 6

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the local state-party nomenklatura and the re-emerging Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church. Obviously, this does not contradict the honest intentions of the initiators of the secession of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church from under the jurisdiction of the Moscow Patriarchate. However, it is interesting to note the initiators’ susceptibility to outer-Orthodox factors, especially including the state authorities. If one attempts to understand the pivotal problems connected with the institutionalization of the idea of autocephaly in Ukraine, the analysis should be conducted against the wider background of the process of constructing an independent Ukrainian state after the fall of the USSR. Its observers, inter alia, pointed to the underdevelopment of the bureaucratic apparatus which was “understaffed, inexperienced, and unstructured.”8 To put it more precisely, the staff’s way of thinking, their experience and their structure were all adapted to the order which had just collapsed or in any case underwent a deep evolution. The structures of the post-Soviet state, even called by Oleksandr Motyl a “pseudo-state,” were unable to face the challenges connected with the proclaimed declarations of independence and sovereignty. The aforesaid author justified this inertia and helplessness with the lack of new principles and rules which would allow transforming the “pseudo-state” into a “genuine administrative apparatus.”9 It seems that this legitimate observation should be slightly particularized: new principles and rules appeared, but they were alien and obscure to the apparatus shaped and adjusted to the conditions of the neopatrimonial nomenklatura. During the Soviet period, the structure of the ROC was built practically on the same principles as the state apparatus. The hierarchy of the Orthodox Church – regardless of the personal convictions of its particular representatives – functioned under the strict auspices of the state authorities. The habits which had been shaped for a few dozen years were impossible to change in a short period of time. It may be said that state independence turned out to be a challenge with which the secular structures in Ukraine could not or often did not want to cope. Similarly, especially in the initial period, the hierarchy and clergy shaped in the ROC structures were unable to deal with the challenges they faced as a result of the fall of the USSR. One of the key issues was the question of the status of the Orthodox Church in independent Ukraine. As was the case with state independence, there were attempts to put into effect the idea of autocephaly in Ukraine on the basis of models shaped under the conditions 8

Bohdan Harasymiw, Post-communist Ukraine, Edmonton-Toronto: CIUS Press, 2002, p. 96. 9 B. Harasymiw, Post-communist Ukraine…, p. 96.

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of nomenklatura neopatrimonialism. As a result, the construction of genuinely independent Orthodox Church structures was paralyzed by the post-Soviet habit of seeking the right patron. Also, from the beginning, the idea of autocephaly had its avowed opponents: the forces and circles oriented towards the reintegration of post-Soviet space under Moscow’s hegemony. Over time, two main candidate groups for the role of patrons of the Autocephalous Orthodox Church in Ukraine emerged: democratic and anti-communist opposition which fought for independence and supporters of Ukrainian autonomy who originated from the party-nomenklatura establishment. During the process of institutionalizing the idea of autocephaly in Ukraine, the two aforesaid factors began to co-exist. Slogans, symbolism and doctrine for the newly-established Orthodox Church were taken from the arsenal of the national-democratic opposition, while its organizational culture was based on the nomenklatura and neopatrimonial models. Naturally, it is difficult to speculate about the reasons for which Leonid Kravchuk could become actively engaged in the construction of an independent Orthodox Church in Ukraine. It ought to be noted that suggestions as to his role in this matter are mainly formulated by the avowed opponents of Metropolitan Filaret and the Kyiv Patriarchate. For instance, in the in-depth analysis of the divisions within the Orthodox Church in Ukraine which was published under the auspices of the UOC MP, Pr. Rostyslav Yarema claims that in terms of religion, the first president of Ukraine acted according to the motto, formulated during the reign of hetman Skoropadsky in 1918, which stated that in “an independent country, there should be an independent Orthodox Church.”10 However, there is little likelihood that the way of thinking about the state by the former CPU’s ideological secretary could be shaped by such a faraway epoch both in terms of time and mentality. Even if Kravchuk and his supporters referred to any comparisons with the period of the so-called “Ukrainian revolution” of 1914-1923, it was on the basis of neotraditionalization and, as a result, the meaning of these references underwent a far-reaching transformation. As Bohdan Harasymiv accurately notes, the Ukrainian statehood in statu nascendi was steeped in Soviet reality and constituted its extension. Its first leader attempted to “invigorate existing (Soviet-type) structures, not invent new ones.” He represented the Soviet school of thinking about the state and therefore “misconceived civil society and its relation to the 10

Ɋ. əɪɟɦɚ, ɐɟɪɤɨɜɧɵɟ ɪɚɫɤɨɥɵ…, p. 37.

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state, considering state and society to be fused, society requiring direction by the state.”11 In other words, there could not be “any notion of a distinction between the society and state.”12 The consequence of this assumption was a complete union of the Orthodox Church and the Soviet state in the period of the USSR. It seems that Kravchuk struggled to adjust this model to the new Ukrainian reality. His engagement in the process of constructing autocephaly and the administrative methods used for this purpose perfectly fit such a pattern. With the formal dissolution of the USSR, a pressing question arose as to whether – and if so, then to what extent – forms, institutions and social practices shaped in the Soviet period could be adjusted to the new reality. Among other things, answering this question depended on the form of the “principle of acceptance” – that is, the paradigm according to which we can decide whether “the rules of the old system (…) can be reconciled with the rules of the new system.” Essentially, two possibilities appear. The first one is the “principle of separation” according to which “the remnants of the old regime” should be consistently removed. The other could be called “the principle of continuation.”13 In this option, “the rules of the new order” are “all the principles of the communist order which were not changed in accordance with the effective principles of transformation.”14 It seems that the concept of the jurisprudential “principle of acceptance” can be effectively used not only to describe the political but also the religious reality. This is even more justified because in the situation of post-Soviet Ukraine, both these spheres were quite closely interconnected. In the religious sphere, the issue of choosing “the principle of acceptance” in former Galicia became updated in connection with the question about the origin and future of the structures of the Orthodox Church in this territory. The presence of the ROC was of a political origin and the Orthodox structures subordinate to the Moscow Patriarchate can be considered an extrapolation of the Soviet system on the religious sphere. Its antithesis was the catacomb Greek Catholic Church. Until the beginning of 1989, two opposing viewpoints appeared very clearly as to the choice of “the principle of acceptance.” Representatives of 11

B. Harasymiw, Post-communist Ukraine…, p. 111. B. Harasymiw, Post-communist Ukraine…, p. 93. 13 Artur Woáek, Demokracja nieformalna. Konstytucjonalizm i rzeczywiste reguáy polityki w Europie ĝrodkowej po 1989 roku, Warszawa: Instytut Studiów Politycznych PAN, 2004, pp. 174-177. 14 A. Woáek, Demokracja nieformalna…, pp. 236-237. 12

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Conclusions: Part II

the Greek Catholic Church were quite resolutely in favor of the “principle of dissociation.” Meanwhile, the ROC hierarchy tightly held on to the “principle of continuation.” In striking contrast to this dichotomy was the way in which the issue of moving from the Soviet order to a new reality was treated by the precursor of the autocephalous movement – Fr. Yarema. His approach quite clearly resembles the paradigm which, with regard to politics, is sometimes called “the Janus principle.” At its core is a peculiar paradox according to which “a principle of politics is such and only such a principle which participates in creating the system of principles of the democratic state and at the same time considers the old rules of the communist system as at least partly operative.”15 This was the paradigm followed by Fr. Yarema when he attempted to present the Lviv pseudo-council from 1946 as an event which was to be conducive to the establishment of Ukrainian sovereignty and autonomy. In the 1990s, Patrick Michel made an attempt to synthetically describe the meaning and place of religion in the process of overthrowing communism and democratizing the societies of East-Central Europe. The starting point for the French sociologist was the more or less successful polemic with John Paul II’s statement that “it was God who won in the East.” Michel thinks that the Pope overestimated the role of religion and the Church during the democratic transformation in Central European countries,16 although at the same time he admits that certainly this factor should not be disregarded. He bases his conviction about the crucial, albeit not decisive, significance of religion on a few apt observations. Among other things, he notes that it constituted “a symbolic factor undermining the legitimacy of the system,” that it stimulated social transformations and was conducive to “political re-evaluation.”17 Next, Michel rightly observes that although the Sovietization was based on the homogenization of society, in East-Central Europe, religion and the Church favored “the process of differentiation,” that is, inner democratization.18 According to the French author, religion could be a potential factor which stimulated the fight against communism on various levels: including the individual (fight against alienation), social (opposition against the totalitarian rule) and national (counteracting the process of Sovietization) levels.19

15

A. Woáek, Demokracja nieformalna…, p. 61. P. Michel, Religia i polityka..., p. 44. 17 P. Michel, Religia i polityka..., p. 44. 18 P. Michel, Religia i polityka..., p. 45. 19 P. Michel, Religia i polityka..., p. 46. 16

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It is worth considering to what extent these conclusions match the situation in Ukraine. In light of the above-mentioned facts, it should be stated that the Russian Orthodox Church as an institution did not perform any of the functions which Michel ascribes to religious communities in the process of transformation in East-Central Europe. This Orthodox Church in no way undermined the legal validity of the Soviet system but quite the opposite – it legitimated it. Rather than supporting social transformations initiated by Gorbachev, it focused on counteracting them. The ROC participated in the process of political re-evaluation. However, its essence was “deinternationalization of the party ideology,” “filling it with patriotic elements” and glorification of the Russian past.20 As a result, it was hard to accept that the Russian Orthodox Church stimulated the process of deSovietization in the same direction as, for instance, the Catholic Church or Protestant communities in East-Central Europe. In any case, for our purposes, it is important that by principle, the re-evaluations authorized by the ROC did not lead to the democratization of political life and the construction of civil society in Western European terms. Certainly, it was not the intention of the Russian Orthodox Church to act for the inner differentiation of Soviet society. Especially on the territory of Ukraine, it can be observed with perfect clarity that the Orthodox hierarchy was very determined to retain the homogeneous structure of the religious sphere practically at any cost. However, it turned out that against the intentions and concrete decisions of the Moscow hierarchy in Ukraine there emerged competition in the form of “Ukrainian” Orthodox denominations as well as in the form of the re-emerging Greek Catholic Church. This, in turn, was conducive to the process of internal democratization of Ukrainian society. Among other things, it was thanks to this fact that the political system in Ukraine could evolve in a different direction than, for example, in Russia. In this way, the basis for the further process of the “differentiation” of the post-Soviet space was created. Without a doubt, in the case of the Ukrainian Orthodox and Greek Catholic Churches, they quite strongly became involved in the process of conceptualizing the basic beliefs about how public, social and political life should look. Their representatives have, or at least try to have a significant impact on the rules that determine social practice and the actual way the political system should function. Of course, they do not directly make these rules and values. However, they try to take a very active part in the process of establishing them. 20

ȼ. ȯɥɟɧɫɶɤɢɣ, Ɋɟɥɿɝɿɹ ɿ «ɩɟɪɟɛɭɞɨɜɚ»…

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In the case of Ukraine, religion is a factor which significantly affects the degree of internal integration of her society. At the same time, however, it should be noted that the case of Ukraine is best illustrated by the fact that religion and different confessions can, over the centuries, foster both the internal consolidation of the community, but can also have a devastating impact by generating divisions. On the one hand, Eastern Christianity is the foundation on which the traditional Ukrainian identity rests. On the other hand, for example, in the nineteenth century, the Ukrainian elite – especially in Galicia – were Latinized, and as a result, stood in opposition to the rest of Ukrainian society.21 Also, controversies at the heart of Eastern Christianity – between supporters of the Orthodox Church and the union – had a negative impact on the process of integration for that society. It is very characteristic that issues from even a few centuries ago are also used today in conflicts within Ukraine concerning the present reality and her contemporary identity22 as well as during election campaigns. As a general rule, as the political system acquires more and more features of a polyarchy, there is a decline in the importance of force and coercion as the main means of having an influence. These will be replaced by persuasion, manipulation and authority.23 This raises the question of whether religion can be a useful tool to exert an influence in such ways. It seems – at least in the case of Ukraine – that yes, this is the case. It turns out that in local social reality, religion is considered to be a separate and autonomous communication system which operates through content that is communicable, and to some extent useful in the political system. In addition, from the perspective of those in power, the costs of using this tool in Ukraine – among other things because of the institutional weakness 21

For more on this topic, see: Jan Kozik, UkraiĔski ruch narodowy w Galicji w latach 1830-1848, Kraków: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1973. 22 Here we should mention at least the disputes surrounding the legalization and activities of the Greek Catholic Church after 1989. During this time, a variety of myths and stereotypes about the events at the turn of the sixteenth and seventeenth century were used as arguments when it came to signing the Union of Brest. An example of this is the statement by the superior of the UPC KP, Filaret, who in 2006 stated that the Union of Brest in 1596 not only did not bring about “religious and national unity” for Ukrainians, but in addition plunged them “for centuries” into religious conflicts, “through which flowed a river of blood.” Ʌɢɫɬ ɉɚɬɪɿɚɪɯɚ Ɏɿɥɚɪɟɬɚ ɞɨ Ƚɥɚɜɢ ɍȽɄɐ, in: „Ƚɨɥɨɫ ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜ’ɹ” 2006. – ʋ 06 (174). – p. 4. http://www.pravda.com.ua/articles/2013/05/7/6989377/ http://www.pravda.com.ua/articles/2013/05/7/6989377/ 23 On this topic and the specifics of the basic types of influence: R. A. Dahl, B. Stinebrickner, Modern Political…, pp. 38-43.

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of the Orthodox community in particular – are relatively low in relation to the expected benefits. This undoubtedly enhances its attractiveness. Therefore, it is no coincidence that religious motifs – especially those related to Eastern Christianity – are a permanent feature of political disputes, one of the topics during election campaigns or a criterion for verifying the credibility of persons and institutions in power or aspiring to the role. In search of explanations for this phenomenon, it is worth referring to the conclusions of Émile Durkheim, who stated that important elements of social life are the elements of a psychic nature, meaning “representations.”24 Undoubtedly, the criteria of the validity of authority, the desired model of governance, the conviction about one’s own civilizational identity and the resulting geopolitical orientation (in the case of Ukraine: the East or West, the Euro-Atlantic and Eurasian spaces) are the subject of these ideas and to a great extent based upon them. “Valuable claims and demands,” are built based on them, and these ideas can often gain the status of very persistent political values.25 They provide the criteria for an institutional and normative evaluation. In the case of Ukraine, the subject of assessment and evaluation is the institution of an independent state and the standards and behavior of elementary importance for the functioning of the political system. The Orthodox Church and, to a lesser extent, the Greek Catholic Church, due to her actual outreach within the territory, seek to influence this assessment and shape it. The divisions within the Orthodox Church in Ukraine are partly due to the differences in her approach to the issue of Ukraine’s independence and sovereignty. There are also offshoots of disagreement as to the rules by which the life of society is to function: whether it should be based on pluralism of the polyarchy or an oligarchy with the facade of democracy. As already mentioned, the valuation is also subject to selection based on geopolitical orientation. We can clearly see the involvement of the religious factor, particularly in this case. Eastern Christianity, and especially Orthodoxy, in appropriate contexts fulfills the role of political values. Her “functional-structural relationship” with “mental-cultural structures”26 and behaviors specific to social reality, seems to be very durable in Ukraine.

24

Émile Durkheim, Suicide. A Study…, p. 312. Kazimierz Dziubka, WartoĞci polityczne, in: Studia z teorii polityki, A. W. JabáoĔski, L. Sobkowiak (ed.), Vol. 1, Wrocáaw: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Wrocáawskiego, 1999, p. 133. 26 K. Dziubka, WartoĞci…, p. 147. 25

SUMMARY

In the political system of modern Ukraine, religion plays a number of roles and functions. First of all, it introduces or maintains the belief in the mutual relationship between the earthly and transcendent orders, also requiring the consent of the former to the latter. This belief can be used instrumentally as a tool to influence social and political life. At least some of the lay participants quite willingly turn to religion. From their perspective, religion and the Orthodox Church are a means for achieving specific social or political objectives in Ukraine. For example, religious issues can be treated as an element of the national security strategy or a factor for the state’s internal consolidation.1 All this is in order to legitimize society’s institutions, giving them a final important ontological status, that is, situating them within the secular and cosmic frame of reference.2 The effectiveness of this religious legitimacy depends on the credibility of traditional religious definitions of reality according to the public’s perception. A significant impact on the level of this reliability will be the process that Peter Berger described as “a secularization of consciousness”.3 The liberation of the subjective perception of the reality of religious axioms is considered a natural consequence of social modernization and industrialization that resulted in a pluralism of worldviews.4 Durkheim’s distinction between “individual” and “collective ideas” is worth keeping in mind. This will protect us against excessive simplifications of theses concerning the elimination of religion from public life as a definite consequence of subjective secularization. Also, we ought to remember that in Ukraine or Russia, the password for secularization was strongly marked ideologically; religion and the Orthodox Church were ousted from social life not as a result of some natural social processes, but in the name of artificial structures of the 1

Sergiej Zdioruk, Narodowe interesy Ukrainy w sferze religijno-narodowego systemu wspóáczesnego Ğwiata, in: „Nomos. Kwartalnik religioznawczy” No. 7/8 (1994), pp. 196-202. 2 P. L. Berger, The Sacred Canopy…, pp. 36-39. 3 P. L. Berger, The Sacred Canopy…, p. 108. 4 P. L. Berger, The Sacred Canopy…, p. 108.

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Soviet “new man” and a “new society.” Therefore, it is worth asking whether it had the same nature and occurred on such a scale and with such intensity to be able to start the processes characteristic of Western civilization in the individual dimension of secularism in the post-Soviet space. If we assume that Marxism-Leninism in its structure met all the essential features of a religious system, then it may be that, contrary to appearances, the decades of communist indoctrination perpetuated the justification of an eschatological “sense of everyday life.” This in turn affects the attitude towards modernity understood by us in accord with the proposal of Shmuel Eisenstadt and its manifestations, even such as a liberal democracy. Religion in contemporary Ukraine can be considered to be one of the carriers of symbolic power. It has an impact on the functioning and contents of the symbols by which various elements of the political system are conceptualized, including the rules of its operation. In any case, it is obviously used for this purpose. In particular, symbols that help perpetuate or change the social order are introduced through religion and the Orthodox Church, for example: democracy, the West, the New Jerusalem, Kyiv Patriarchate, Russkiy mir and the Ukrainian and Russian languages. Disputes over the institutional form of religious life in Ukraine are also an important factor that drives the “theoretical and at the same time autodefining activity of participants of social practice,” which aims not so much at “a representation of the facts of the external world,” but to “better understand the meaning of social practices,” including changes which it is dependent on.5 For example, the Uniate Church’s emergence from the catacombs in 1987 gave an unusually strong impetus to the process of authentic de-monopolization of Soviet nomenklatura power in some of Ukraine’s territories. Rebuilding Greek Catholic legal structures and the development and institutionalization of the movement for autocephaly of the Orthodox Church in Ukraine significantly contributed to the definition of the content and meaning of Ukrainian independence. On the other hand, disputes and controversies between the Greek Catholic and Orthodox communities, and within them after 1991, can be considered an important factor thanks to which two different versions of Ukrainian identity within the circle of the Ukrainian political system merge: the Eastern-Soviet and the Western-European. The relative freedom of religion functioning as a social subsystem itself is a fact that confirms the importance of the changes that took place after the fall of the Soviet Union. Individual religious communities partly 5

A. Woáek, Demokracja nieformalna…, p. 41.

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Summary

stimulate these changes, and in part are subject to their consequences. They become expressions and symbols of a number of significant events that create the social reality of post-Soviet Ukraine. More important is that they have a constitutive meaning for the political subsystem. In this way, the Greek Catholic Church is explicitly linked with or assigned values and ideas such as anti-communism, Ukrainian patriotism and nationalism. Undoubtedly, the UOC KP is one of the staunchest and most active advocates in social life for broadly understood independence from Moscow. The complexity of the reality in Ukraine results from the existing ambivalence that determines the activities of virtually every subsystem. Most often, these ambivalences are enclosed in an extremely voluminous phrase: “between the East and West.” This perfectly illustrates the situation within the UOC subordinate to the Moscow patriarch. This Church is in a sense independent from the Moscow Patriarchate, while at the same time remaining subordinate to it. The martyrs of the Soviet period bore witness to its potential anti-communist character. At the same time, however, actions of individual hierarchs clearly legitimized the Soviet order, and after 1991 favored the consolidation of the Russian version of post-communism in Ukraine. While some representatives of the UOC MP episcopate declare their support for Ukrainian independence, others are exponents of trends appropriate for Moscow’s neo-imperialism. There is no doubt that the way in which elections are held is important for the functioning of the Ukrainian political system. First of all, this concerns how they come close to a “truly democratic” (in the Western sense) ideal. The Orthodox and Greek Catholic Churches are actively involved in the electoral process. This is done both directly – as evidenced by the presence of the clergy on the lists of candidates, as well as indirectly – through public support or even anointing specific election race participants (whether parties or individuals), through reviewing the course of the election itself and the legitimacy of its results, as well as by mobilizing the electorate. An important source of rules that determine the functioning of the Ukrainian political system is “unarticulated knowledge.” The communities of interest to us quite actively seek to influence its shape. For example, they try to highlight themes from historical memories that will in a certain way allow the recreation of “a path to the present” for the current system, in order to determine the desired structure. Important elements of this unarticulated knowledge also include a set of beliefs about such concepts as “the West,” “democracy,” “freedom,” “liberalism,” “communism” or “Orthodox civilization.” Given the high level of public confidence enjoyed

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by Orthodox churches, it would be difficult to overestimate the possibility of their impact on the general awareness of these issues. The existence of the communities of interest to us depends on the economic and political spheres. Inevitably, they come into contact with the mechanisms of neopatrimonialism that significantly determine how these areas function. In certain situations and configurations, the Orthodox Church becomes the beneficiary of neopatrimonial systems. In the past, often in exchange for short-term benefits, their representatives tended to be willing to even legitimize various pathological phenomena from the point of view of Western standards at the meeting point between business and politics. It should be noted that the Greek Catholic Church, as a rule, does not accept neopatrimonial regularities. Orthodox Churches are also ready to protest against them, except that their attitude is more dependent on the specific circumstances. Potentially, Eastern Christian communities may, in appropriate circumstances, be useful factors in overcoming the neopatrimonial features of the Ukrainian political system. Most importantly, the Orthodox and Greek Catholic Churches functioning in the framework of the political system enjoy relative autonomy. Among other things, thanks to their activities, the political system of Ukraine is not limited to neopatrimonial mechanisms of governance. In other words, due to these, we can in accordance with our methodological assumptions speak of the primacy of the political system in relation to the regime. Thanks to this, it potentially retains the ability to move in the direction of a polyarchy. In any case, based on this arrangement, the process of such a system heading towards a dictatorship is unlikely.

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11. Ɂɚɹɜɚ ɧɚɪɚɞɢ ɩɪɟɞɫɬɚɜɧɢɤɿɜ ɯɪɢɫɬɢɹɧɫɶɤɢɯ ɐɟɪɤɨɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ɡ ɩɪɢɜɨɞɭ ɫɩɪɨɛ ɜɢɤɨɪɢɫɬɚɧɧɹ ɐɟɪɤɜɢ ɭ ɜɢɛɨɪɱɿɣ ɤɚɦɩɚɧɿʀ (17 november 2004), http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/resourses/church_doc/ecumen_doc/34081; 12. Ɂɜɟɪɧɟɧɧɹ ȼɫɟɭɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨʀ ɪɚɞɢ ɐɟɪɤɨɜ ɿ ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɢɯ ɨɪɝɚɧɿɡɚɰɿɣ ɞɨ ɭɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɧɚɪɨɞɭ ɧɚɩɟɪɟɞɨɞɧɿ ɜɢɛɨɪɿɜ ɉɪɟɡɢɞɟɧɬɚ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ, http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/resourses/church_doc/ecumen_doc/33534/; 13. Ɂɜɟɪɧɟɧɧɹ ɞɨ ɦɢɬɪɨɩɨɥɢɬɚ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨʀ Ⱥɜɬɨɤɟɮɚɥɶɧɨʀ ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɨʀ ɐɟɪɤɜɢ ɫɜɹɳɟɧɢɤɚ ȼ. Ɋɨɦɚɧɸɤɚ (1977 ɪɿɤ), http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/resourses/church_doc/uaoc_doc/34040/; 14. Ɂɜɟɪɧɟɧɧɹ ɤɟɪɿɜɧɢɤɿɜ ɯɪɢɫɬɢɹɧɫɶɤɢɯ ɐɟɪɤɨɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ɞɨ ɫɩɿɜɝɪɨɦɚɞɹɧ ɧɚɩɟɪɟɞɨɞɧɿ ɩɨɜɬɨɪɧɨɝɨ ɝɨɥɨɫɭɜɚɧɧɹ 26 ɝɪɭɞɧɹ 2004 ɪ, http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/resourses/church_doc/ecumen_doc/33538/; 15. Ɂɜɟɪɧɟɧɧɹ ɤɟɪɿɜɧɢɤɿɜ ɯɪɢɫɬɢɹɧɫɶɤɢɯ ɐɟɪɤɨɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ɞɨ ɫɩɿɜɝɪɨɦɚɞɹɧ ɧɚɩɟɪɟɞɨɞɧɿ ɞɪɭɝɨɝɨ ɬɭɪɭ ɜɢɛɨɪɿɜ ɩɪɟɡɢɞɟɧɬɚ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ (11 november 2004), http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/resourses/church_doc/ecumen_doc/33535/; 16. Ɂɜɟɪɧɟɧɧɹ ɤɟɪɿɜɧɢɤɿɜ ɯɪɢɫɬɢɹɧɫɶɤɢɯ ɐɟɪɤɨɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ɞɨ ɭɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɧɚɪɨɞɭ ɡ ɩɪɢɜɨɞɭ ɜɢɛɨɪɿɜ Ƚɥɚɜɢ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨʀ ɞɟɪɠɚɜɢ (30 september 2004), http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/resourses/church_doc/ecumen_doc/33533/; 17. ɂɨɚɧɧ Ȼɨɞɧɚɪɱɭɤ, http://krotov.info/spravki/history_bio/20_bio/bodnarchuk.html; 18. ȱɫɬɨɪɿɹ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ. Ⱦɨɤɭɦɟɧɬɢ, ɦɚɬɟɪɿɚɥɢ, Ʉɢʀɜ: Ⱥɤɚɞɟɦɿɹ, 2002; 19. Ʉɨɧɫɬɢɬɭɰɢɹ Ɋɟɫɩɭɛɥɢɤɢ Ȼɟɥɚɪɭɫɶ 1994 ɝɨɞɚ, http://www.pravo.by/main.aspx?guid=6351; 20. Ʉɨɧɫɬɢɬɭɰɿɹ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ, http://zakon2.rada.gov.ua/laws/show/254%D0%BA/96%D0%B2%D1%80; 21. Ʌɢɫɬ ɉɚɬɪɿɚɪɯɚ Ɏɿɥɚɪɟɬɚ ɞɨ Ƚɥɚɜɢ ɍȽɄɐ in: „Ƚɨɥɨɫ ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜ’ɹ” 2006. – ʋ 06 (174); 22. Ʌɿɤɜɿɞɚɰɿɹ ɍȽɄɐ (1939-1946). Ⱦɨɤɭɦɟɧɬɢ ɪɚɞɹɧɫɶɤɢɯ ɨɪɝɚɧɿɜ ɞɟɪɠɚɜɧɨʀ ɛɟɡɩɟɤɢ, Vol. I, Ʉɢʀɜ, 2006; 23. Ɇɚɪɬɢɪɨɥɨɝɿɹ ɭɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɢɯ ɰɟɪɤɨɜ, Vol. 1 ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɚ ɩɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɚ ɐɟɪɤɜɚ, Ɉ. Ɂɿɧɤɟɜɢɱ, Ɉ. ȼɨɪɨɧɢɧ (ed.), Toronto – Baltimore: ɋɦɨɥɨɫɤɢɩ, 1987; 24. Ɇɚɪɬɢɪɨɥɨɝɿɹ ɭɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɢɯ ɰɟɪɤɨɜ, Vol. 2 ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɚ ɤɚɬɨɥɢɰɶɤɚ ɰɟɪɤɜɚ, Ɉ. Ɂɿɧɤɟɜɢɱ, T. Ʌɨɧɱɢɧɚ (ed.), Toronto-Baltimore: ɋɦɨɥɨɫɤɢɩ, 1985;

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Ƚɪɢɧɿɜ O., ɍɤɪɚʀɧɚ ɿ Ɋɨɫɿɹ: ɩɚɪɬɧɟɪɫɬɜɨ ɱɢ ɩɪɨɬɢɫɬɨɹɧɧɹ?, Ʌɶɜɿɜ: ȱɧɫɬɢɬɭɬ ɇɚɪɨɞɨɡɧɚɜɫɬɜɚ ɇȺɇ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ, 1997; 8. Ⱦɡɸɛɚ ȱ., ȱɧɬɟɪɧɚɰɿɨɧɚɥɿɡɦ ɱɢ ɪɭɫɢɮɿɤɚɰɿɹ?, Ʉɢʀɜ: ȼɢɞɚɜɧɢɱɢɣ Ⱦɿɦ «ɄɆ Ⱥɤɚɞɟɦɿɹ», 2005; 9. Ⱦɟɪɠɚɜɧɨ-ɰɟɪɤɨɜɧɿ ɜɿɞɧɨɫɢɧɢ: ɫɜɿɬɨɜɢɣ ɞɨɫɜɿɞ ɿ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɚ (ɿɫɬɨɪɢɤɨ-ɩɨɥɿɬɢɱɧɢɣ ɚɧɚɥɿɡ), ȱ. ȱ. Ɍɢɦɨɲɟɧɤɨ (ed.), Ʉɢʀɜ: ȼɢɞɚɜɧɢɰɬɜɨ ȯɜɪɨɩɟɣɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɍɧɿɜɟɪɫɢɬɟɬɭ, 2002; 10. Ⱦɨɪɨɲɤɨ M., ɇɨɦɟɧɤɥɚɬɭɪɚ: ɤɟɪɿɜɧɚ ɜɟɪɯɿɜɤɚ Ɋɚɞɹɧɫɶɤɨʀ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ (1918-1938), Ʉɢʀɜ: ɇɿɤɚ-ɐɟɧɬɪ 2008; 11. ȯɜɫɟɽɜɚ Ɍ., Ɋɨɫɿɣɫɶɤɚ ɩɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɚ ɰɟɪɤɜɚ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ 1917-1921: ɤɨɧɮɥɿɤɬ ɧɚɰɿɨɧɚɥɶɧɢɯ ɿɞɟɧɬɢɱɧɨɫɬɟɣ ɭ ɩɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɨɦɭ ɩɨɥɿ, Ʉɢʀɜ: ȱɧ-ɬ ɿɫɬɨɪɿʀ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ɇȺɇ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ, 2005; 12. ȯɥɟɧɫɶɤɢɣ ȼ., Ɋɟɥɿɝɿɹ ɩɿɫɥɹ ɤɨɦɭɧɿɡɦɭ : ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɨ-ɫɨɰɿɚɥɶɧɿ ɡɦɿɧɢ ɜ ɩɪɨɰɟɫɿ ɬɪɚɧɫɮɨɪɦɚɰɿʀ ɰɟɧɬɪɚɥɶɧɨ- ɿ ɫɯɿɞɧɨɽɜɪɨɩɟɣɫɶɤɢɯ ɫɭɫɩɿɥɶɫɬɜ: ɮɨɤɭɫ ɧɚ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ, Ʉɢʀɜ: ɇɉɍ ɿɦ. Ɇ. ɉ. Ⱦɪɚɝɨɦɚɧɨɜɚ, 2002; 13. Ʉɚɲɟɜɚɪɨɜ Ⱥ. ɇ., ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɚɹ Ɋɨɫɫɿɣɫɤɚɹ ɐɟɪɤɨɜ ɢ ɋɨɜɽɬɫɤɨɽ ɝɨɫɭɞɚɪɫɬɜɨ (1917-1922), Ɇɨɫɤɜɚ: ɂɡɞ-ɜɨ Ʉɪɭɬɢɰɤɨɝɨ ɩɨɞɜɨɪɶɹ, 2005; 14. Ʉɢɹɤ C., ȱɞɟɧɬɢɱɧɿɫɬɶ ɭɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɤɚɬɨɥɢɰɢɡɦɭ: ɝɟɧɟɝɢɫ, ɩɪɨɛɥɟɦɢ, ɩɟɪɫɩɟɤɬɢɜɢ. ȱɜɚɧɨ-Ɏɪɚɧɤɿɜɫɶɤ: ɇɨɜɚ Ɂɨɪɹ 2006; 15. Ʌɢɫɹɤ-Ɋɭɞɧɢɰɶɤɢɣ ȱ., ȱɫɬɨɪɢɱɧɿ ɟɫɟ, Ʉɢʀɜ: Ɉɫɧɨɜɢ, 1994; 16. ɉɚɧɶɨ Ʉ., Ɇɨɬɢɜɢ ɬɚ ɧɚɫɥɿɞɤɢ ɜɬɪɭɱɚɧɧɹ ɜɥɚɞɢ ɭ ɦɿɠɤɨɧɮɟɫɿɣɧɟ ɩɪɨɬɢɫɬɨɹɧɧɹ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ: (ɭɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɿ ɰɟɪɤɜɢ ɬɚ ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɚ ɫɜɨɛɨɞɚ ɧɚ ɦɟɠɿ ɫɬɨɥɿɬɶ), Ʉɢʀɜ, 2004; 17. ɉɚɲɭɤ Ⱥ., ɍɤɪɚʀɧɫɶɤɚ ɰɟɪɤɜɚ ɿ ɧɚɡɚɥɟɠɧɿɫɬɶ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ, Ʌɶɜɿɜ: ȼɢɞɚɜɧɢɱɢɣ ɰɟɧɬɪ Ʌɇɍ ɿɦɟɧɿ ȱɜɚɧɚ Ɏɪɚɧɤɚ, 2003; 18. ɉɚɳɟɧɤɨ ȼ., ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜǯɹ ɜ ɧɨɜɿɬɧɿɣ ɿɫɬɨɪɿʀ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ, ɉɨɥɬɚɜɚ 2001; 19. ɉɨɥɿɬɨɥɨɝɿɹ ɩɨɫɬɤɨɦɭɧɿɡɦɭ. ɉɨɥɿɬɢɱɧɢɣ ɚɧɚɥɿɡ ɩɨɫɬɤɨɦɭɧɿɫɬɢɱɧɢɯ ɫɭɫɩɿɥɶɫɬɜ, ȼ. ɉɨɥɨɯɚɥɨ (ed.), Ʉɢʀɜ: ɉɨɥɿɬɢɱɧɚ Ⱦɭɦɤɚ, 1995; 20. ɉɨɫɩɟɥɨɜɫɤɢɣ Ⱦ., Ɋɭɫɫɤɚɹ ɩɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɚɹ ɰɟɪɤɨɜɶ ɜ ɏɏ ɜɟɤɟ, Ɇɨɫɤɜɚ: Ɋɟɫɩɭɛɥɢɤɚ, 1995; 21. ɉɪɨɤɨɩɱɭɤ Ʌ., Ɍɪɚɧɫɮɨɪɦɚɰɿɣɧɿ ɩɪɨɰɟɫɢ ɜ ɩɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜɧɢɯ ɤɨɧɮɟɫɿɹɯ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ɜ 90-ɬɿ ɪɨɤɢ ɏɏ ɫɬ., Ʉɢʀɜ 2005, (unpublished doctoral dissertation); 22. Ɋɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɨ-ɮɿɥɨɫɨɮɫɶɤɚ ɞɭɦɤɚ ɜ Ʉɢɽɜɨ-ɦɨɝɢɥɹɧɫɶɤɿɣ ɚɤɚɞɟɦɿʀ: ɽɜɪɨɩɟɣɫɶɤɢɣ ɤɨɧɬɟɤɫɬ, ȼ. ɋ. Ƚɨɪɫɶɤɢɣ (ed.), Ʉɢʀɜ: ȼɢɞɚɜɧɢɱɢɣ Ⱦɿɦ «ɄɆ Ⱥɤɚɞɟɦɿɹ», 2002; 23. Ɋɨɬɚɪ ɇ., ɉɨɥɿɬɢɱɧɚ ɭɱɚɫɬɶ ɝɪɨɦɚɞɹɧ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ɭ ɫɢɫɬɟɦɧɢɯ ɬɪɚɧɫɮɨɪɦɚɰɿɹɯ ɩɟɪɟɯɿɞɧɨɝɨ ɩɟɪɿɨɞɭ, ɑɟɪɧɿɜɰɿ: Ɋɭɬɚ, 2007;

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40. əɪɟɦɚ P., ɐɟɪɤɨɜɧɵɟ ɪɚɫɤɨɥɵ ɜ ɍɤɪɚɢɧɟ, Ʉɢɟɜ: «ɍɤɪɚɢɧɫɤɢɣ ɤɥɭɛ», 2007.

Scientific Articles 1.

Ⱥɧɞɪɟɟɜɚ Ʌ., ɉɪɨɰɟɫɫ ɞɟɯɪɢɫɬɢɚɧɢɡɚɰɢɢ ɜ Ɋɨɫɫɢɢ ɢ ɜɨɡɧɢɤɧɨɜɟɧɢɟ ɤɜɚɡɢɪɟɥɢɝɢɨɡɧɨɫɬɢ ɜ XXI ɜɟɤe; http://www.krotov.info/lib_sec/01_a/and/reeva_la_2.htm; 2. Ⱥɧɞɪɟɟɜɚ Ʌ., ɉɪɨɰɟɫɫ ɞɟɯɪɢɫɬɢɚɧɢɡɚɰɢɢ ɜ Ɋɨɫɫɢɢ ɢ ɜɨɡɧɢɤɧɨɜɟɧɢɟ ɤɜɚɡɢɪɟɥɢɝɢɨɡɧɨɫɬɢ ɜ XXI ɜɟɤe; http://www.krotov.info/lib_sec/01_a/and/reeva_la_2.htm, dechrystianizacja; 3. Ȼɟɥɹɤɨɜɚ ɇ.Ⱥ., ɂɡ ɢɫɬɨɪɢɢ ɪɟɝɢɫɬɪɚɰɢɢ ɪɟɥɢɝɢɨɡɧɵɯ ɨɛɴɟɞɢɧɟɧɢɣ ɜ ɍɤɪɚɢɧɟ ɢ Ȼɟɥɨɪɭɫɫɢɢ ɜ 1976-1986 ɝɝ. http://www.krotov.info/history/20/1980/belyakova.htm; 4. Ȼɭɛɥɢɤ Ɍ. Ɍ., ɍɱɚɫɬɶ ɝɪɟɤɨ-ɤɚɬɨɥɢɰɶɤɨɝɨ ɦɢɪɹɧɫɬɜɚ ɭ ɪɭɫɿ ɡɚ ɥɟʉɚɥɿɡɚɰɿɸ ɍȽɄɐ: ɧɚ ɩɪɢɤɥɚɞɿ ɞɿɹɥɶɧɨɫɬɿ ɤɨɦɿɬɟɬɭ Ɂɚɯɢɫɬɭ ɍɄɐ (ɫɟɪɟɞɢɧɚ 1980-ɯ – ɩɨɱɚɬɨɤ 1990-ɯ ɪɪ.) in: ɇɚɭɤɨɜɿ ɩɪɚɰɿ ɿɫɬɨɪɢɱɧɨɝɨ ɮɚɤɭɥɶɬɟɬɭ Ɂɚɩɨɪɿɡɶɤɨɝɨ ɧɚɰɿɨɧɚɥɶɧɨɝɨ ɭɧɿɜɟɪɫɢɬɟɬɭ, 2012, Vol. XXXII; 5. ȼɚɜɠɨɧɟɤ Ɇ., Ɇɿɫɰɟ ɬɚ ɪɨɥɶ ɩɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜҲɹ ɭ ɤɨɧɰɟɩɰɿʀ «ɪɭɫɫɤɨɝɨ ɦɢɪɚ» in: „ɋɯɿɞ-Ɂɚɯɿɞ”, ʋ 16-17 (2013); 6. ȼɚɫɢɥɶɟɜɚ O., ɉɪɨɛɥɟɦɵ ɩɪɨɡɟɥɢɬɢɡɦɚ ɜ Ɋɨɫɫɢɢ ɤɨɧɰɚ ɏɏ ɜɟɤɚ, http://www.krotov.info/acts/20/1980/19900201.html; 7. Ƚɪɚɛɨɜɫɶɤɢɣ ɋ., „ɋɨɜɽɬɫɶɤɚ ɥɸɞɢɧɚ” ɹɤ ɤɭɥɶɬɭɪɧɨɚɧɬɪɨɩɨɥɨɝɿɱɧɢɣ ɬɢɩ, http://www.universum.lviv.ua/archive/book/2001/grab_2.html; 8. Ƚɪɟɰɤɢɣ ɂ.ȼ., ȼɧɟɲɧɹɹ ɩɨɥɢɬɢɤɚ Ɋɨɫɫɢɢ ɢ ɩɪɟɡɢɞɟɧɬɫɤɢɟ ɜɵɛɨɪɵ 2004 ɝ. ɧɚ ɍɤɪɚɢɧɟ in: „ȼɟɫɬɧɢɤ ɋɚɧɤɬ-ɉɟɬɟɪɛɭɪɝɫɤɨɝɨ ɍɧɢɜɟɪɫɢɬɟɬɚ”, ɋɟɪɢɹ 6, ɜɵɩɭɫɤ 4, ɞɟɤɚɛɪ 2007; 9. Ⱦɟɧɢɫɟɧɤɨ Ƚ., ɉɨɞɜɢɠɧɢɰɶɤɚ ɞɿɹɥɶɧɿɫɬɶ ɚɤɚɞɟɦɿɤɚ ɇȺɇ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ɉ. Ɍ. Ɍɪɨɧɶɤɚ ɧɚ ɧɢɜɿ ɨɯɨɪɨɧɢ ɿ ɡɛɟɪɟɠɟɧɧɹ ɧɚɰɿɨɧɚɥɶɧɨʀ ɿɫɬɨɪɢɤɨ-ɤɭɥɶɬɭɪɧɨʀ ɫɩɚɞɳɢɧɢ, in: „ȱɫɬɨɪɿɹ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ: ɦɚɥɨɜɿɞɨɦɿ ɿɦɟɧɚ, ɩɨɞɿʀ, ɮɚɤɬɢ”, 2010, ʋ 36; 10. ȯɥɟɧɫɶɤɢɣ ȼ., ȼɿɡɢɬ ɩɚɩɢ Ƀɨɚɧɚ ɉɚɜɥɚ ȱȱ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɭ: ɞɢɫɤɭɫɿʀ ɿ ɤɨɧɬɪɨɜɟɪɫɿʀ in: „Ʉɨɥɟɝɿɹ. Ⱥɥɶɦɚɧɚɯ ɯɪɢɫɬɢɹɧɫɶɤɨʀ ɬɪɚɞɢɰɿʀ” ʋ 2 (4), Kɢʀɜ 2001; 11. ȯɥɟɧɫɶɤɢɣ B., Ⱦɟɪɠɚɜɚ ɿ ɰɟɪɤɜɚ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ. Ɂ ɿɫɬɨɪɿʀ ɩɟɪɟɞɤɜɿɬɧɟɜɨɝɨ ɞɜɚɞɰɹɬɢɥɿɬɬɹ (1) http://risu.org.ua/ua/library/periodicals/lis/lis_91/lis_91_01/37639/;

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25. Ɏɿɫɭɧ Ɉ., ɇɟɨɩɚɬɪɢɦɨɧɿɚɥɿɡɦ ɩɪɨɬɢ ɞɟɦɨɤɪɚɬɿʀ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ, http://www.viche.info/journal/1094/; 26. ɏɚɜɚɪɿɜɫɶɤɢɣ ɍ., Ⱦɟɪɠɚɜɧɢɣ ɨɪɝɚɧ ɭ ɫɩɪɚɜɚɯ ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣ (1991-2010) in: “ȱɫɬɨɪɿɹ ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ”, 2010, Vol. II; 27. ɐɟɪɤɜɢ ɿ ɜɥɚɞɚ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ ɧɚɩɟɪɟɞɨɞɧɿ ɩɪɟɡɢɞɟɧɬɫɶɤɨʀ ɜɢɛɨɪɱɨʀ ɤɚɦɩɚɧɿʀ in: “Ȼɸɥɟɬɟɧɶ ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɨʀ ɿɧɮɨɪɦɚɰɿʀ”, ʋ 12 (124), 2004.; 28. ɑɭɪɚ ȼ.ȱ., Ʉɨɦɩɚɪɬɚɩɚɪɚɬ ɿ ɪɟɥɿɝɿɣɧɢɣ ɪɭɯ ɭ ɥɶɜɿɜɫɶɤɿɣ ɨɛɥɚɫɬɿ ɧɚɩɪɢɤɿɧɰɿ 80-ɯ ɪɪ. Xɏ ɫɬ. in: Ⱥɤɬɭɚɥɶɧɿ ɩɪɨɛɥɟɦɢ ɜɿɬɱɢɡɧɹɧɨʀ ɬɚ ɜɫɟɫɜɿɬɧɶɨʀ ɿɫɬɨɪɿʀ. Ɂɛɿɪɧɢɤ ɧɚɭɤɨɜɢɯ ɩɪɚɰɶ. ɇɚɭɤɨɜɿ ɡɚɩɢɫɤɢ Ɋɿɜɧɟɧɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɞɟɪɠɚɜɧɨɝɨ ɝɭɦɚɧɿɬɚɪɧɨɝɨ ɭɧɿɜɟɪɫɢɬɟɬɭ, Vol. 19, 2010; 29. ɒɩɨɪɥɭɤ Ɋ., ɉɚɞɿɧɧɹ ɰɚɪɢɫɬɫɶɤɨʀ ɿɦɩɟɪɿʀ ɬɚ ɋɊɋɊ: ɪɨɫɿɣɫɶɤɟ ɩɢɬɚɧɧɹ ɿ ɧɚɞɦɿɪɧɟ ɪɨɡɲɢɪɟɧɧɹ ɿɦɩɟɪɿʀ in: „Ⱦɭɯ ɿ ɥɿɬɟɪɚ”, ʋ 1-2, 1997; 30. ɘɪɚɲ Ⱥ., ɉɪɚɜɨɫɥɚɜ’ɹ ɿ ɤɚɬɨɥɢɰɢɡɦ ɭ ɫɭɱɚɫɧɿɣ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ: ɿɞɟɨɥɨɝɿɱɧɿ ɦɿɮɢ ɿ ɪɟɚɥɿʀ ɜɡɚɽɦɨɞɿʀ “Ʌɸɞɢɧɚ ɿ ɋɜɿɬ” No. 10 (529), 2004.

Other Publications 1.

2.

3. 4. 5. 6.

Ⱥɪɯɢɽɩɢɫɤɨɩ ɍɉɐ Ʉɉ ɞɨ Ɍɟɪɧɨɩɿɥɶɫɶɤɨʀ ɦɿɫɶɤɪɚɞɢ ɣɞɟ ɹɤ ɞɟɩɭɬɚɬ-ɦɚɠɨɪɢɬɚɪɧɢɤ ɜɿɞ ɩɚɪɬɿʀ „Ɂɚ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɭ!”, http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/all_news/community/religion_and_policy/3 8565/; ȼ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɿ 260 ɩɪɟɞɫɬɚɜɧɢɤɿɜ ɞɭɯɨɜɟɧɫɬɜɚ ɦɚɸɬɶ ɩɨɫɜɿɞɱɟɧɧɹ ɞɟɩɭɬɚɬɿɜ ɪɿɡɧɢɯ ɪɿɜɧɿɜ, http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/all_news/community/religion_and_policy/3 9328/; ȼɿɡɢɬ ȱɜɚɧɚ ɉɚɜɥɚ ȱȱ ɜ ɍɤɪɚʀɧɭ: ɪɿɤ ɩɨ ɬɨɦɭ, http://www.radiosvoboda.org/content/article/891344.html; ȼɿɡɢɬ ɉɚɩɢ Ɋɢɦɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɫɩɪɢɹɜ ɩɨɦɚɪɚɧɱɟɜɿɣ ɪɟɜɨɥɸɰɿʀ, http://gazeta.ua/articles/history-newspaper/_vizit-papi-rimskogospriyav-pomaranchevij-revolyuciji/297711; ȼɿɤɬɨɪ ɘɳɟɧɤɨ ɬɚ ɣɨɝɨ ɤɨɦɚɧɞɚ ɪɨɡɪɚɯɨɜɭɽ ɧɚ ɩɨɪɚɞɢ ɬɚ ɩɿɞɬɪɢɦɤɭ ɞɭɯɨɜɟɧɫɬɜɚ, http://old.risu.org.ua/ukr/news/article;4400/; Ƚɟɥɶ ȱ. Ⱥ., ȱɧɬɟɪɜ’ɸ, http://archive.khpg.org/index.php?id=1348418185;

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20. Ɇɚɥɶɰɟɜ ȼ., Ⱦɭɯɨɜɟɧɫɬɜɨ ɍɤɪɚɢɧɵ ɜɫɟ ɚɤɬɢɜɧɟɟ ɜɤɥɸɱɚɟɬɫɹ ɜ ɩɨɥɢɬɢɱɟɫɤɭɸ ɛɨɪɶɛɭ, http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/monitoring/society_digest/38271/; 21. Ɇɢɧɚɤɨɜ C., Ƚɨɥɝɨɮɚ ȿɜɝɟɧɢɹ Ʉɭɲɧɚɪɟɜɚ, http://rusk.ru/st.php?idar=105109; 22. Ɇɢɬɪɨɩɨɥɢɬ Ⱦɨɧɟɰɤɢɣ ɢ Ɇɚɪɢɭɩɨɥɶɫɤɢɣ ɂɥɥɚɪɢɨɧ ɜɵɫɬɭɩɢɥ ɫ ɨɛɪɚɳɟɧɢɟɦ ɤ ɫɨɨɬɟɱɟɫɬɜɟɧɧɢɤɚɦ, http://pravoslavye.org.ua/2004/11/29112004_donetsk_mitropolit_done tskiy_i_mariupolskiy_illarion_vistupil_s_obrashcheniem_k_sootechest vennikam/; 23. Ɇɢɬɪɨɩɨɥɢɬ Ⱦɨɧɟɰɤɢɣ ɢ Ɇɚɪɢɭɩɨɥɶɫɤɢɣ ɂɥɥɚɪɢɨɧ ɜɵɫɬɭɩɢɥ ɫ ɨɛɪɚɳɟɧɢɟɦ ɤ ɫɨɨɬɟɱɟɫɬɜɟɧɧɢɤɚɦ, http://pravoslavye.org.ua/2004/11/29112004_donetsk_mitropolit_done tskiy_i_mariupolskiy_illarion_vistupil_s_obrashcheniem_k_sootechest vennikam/; 24. Ɇɢɬɪɨɩɨɥɢɬ ɂɪɢɧɟɣ ɜɵɫɬɭɩɢɥ ɧɚ ɦɢɬɢɧɝɟ ɜ ɩɨɞɞɟɪɠɤɭ ȼɢɤɬɨɪɚ əɧɭɤɨɜɢɱɚ, http://pravoslavye.org.ua/2004/12/22122004_dnepropetrovsk_mitropol it_iriney_vistupil_na_mitinge_v_podderzhku_Victora_yanukovicha/; 25. ɇɚ Ɍɟɪɧɨɩɿɥɥɿ ɭ ɞɟɩɭɬɚɬɢ ɣɞɭɬɶ ɞɟɫɹɬɤɢ ɫɜɹɳɟɧɢɤɿɜ http://risu.org.ua/ua/index/all_news/community/religion_and_policy/3 8380/; 26. ɇɚɣɽɦ Ɇ., Ⱥɦɟɪɢɤɚɧɫɶɤɿ ɬɟɯɧɨɥɨɝɢ ɧɚ ɫɥɭɠɛɿ ɭ əɧɭɤɨɜɢɱɚ, http://www.pravda.com.ua/articles/2007/03/19/3218341; 27. Ɉɦɟɥɶɹɧ Ɇ., Ȼɥɚɠɟɧɧɚ ɤɨɧɱɢɧɚ ɬɚ ɩɨɯɨɪɨɧɢ ɉɚɬɪɿɚɪɯɚ Ʉɢʀɜɫɶɤɨɝɨ ɿ ɜɫɿɽʀ Ɋɭɫɢ-ɍɤɪɚʀɧɢ ȼɨɥɨɞɢɦɢɪɚ, unso.sumy.ua/ɛɥɚɠɟɧɧɚ-ɤɨɧɱɢɧɚ-ɬɚ-ɩɨɯɨɪɨɧɢ-ɩɚɬɪɿɚɪ-3/ 28. ɉɚɬɪɿɚɪɯ Ɏɿɥɚɪɟɬ ɧɚɝɨɪɨɞɢɜ Ɍɹɝɧɢɛɨɤɚ ɨɪɞɟɧɨɦ ɤɧɹɡɹ ȼɨɥɨɞɢɦɢɪɚ http://tsn.ua/ukrayina/filaret-nagorodiv-tyagniboka-ordenom-knyazyavolodimira.html; 29. ɉɚɬɪɢɚɪɯ Ɏɢɥɚɪɟɬ (Ⱦɟɧɢɫɟɧɤɨ), Bɨɫɩɨɦɢɧɚɧɢɹ ɨ 1990-1992 ɝɨɞɚɯ http://krotov.info/libr_min/05_d/en/isenko.htm; 30. ɉɟɪɟɞ ɜɵɛɨɪɚɦɢ ȼɢɤɬɨɪ əɧɭɤɨɜɢɱ ɩɨɫɟɬɢɬ Ʉɢɟɜɨ-ɉɟɱɟɪɫɤɭɸ Ʌɚɜɪɭ, http://pravoslavye.org.ua/2004/11/19112004_kiev_pered_viborami_Vi ctor_yanukovich_posetit_kievo-pecherskuyu_lavru/;

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44. ɑɟɪɜɨɧɟɧɤɨ B., Ɍɚɛɚɱɧɢɤ ɞɨɛɢɜɚɽ Ɇɨɝɢɥɹɧɤɭ, http://glavcom.ua/articles/4203.html; 45. ɑɢɜɨɤɭɧɹ B., Ʉɢɟɜɫɤɢɟ ɧɨɦɟɪɚ ɜ Ɇɨɧɬɟ-Ʉɚɪɥɨ: ɋɭɪɤɢɫ ɧɚ “Ɇɚɣɛɚɯɟ”, ɀɜɚɧɢɹ ɧɚ “Ȼɟɧɬɥɢ”, http://www.pravda.com.ua/rus/articles/2006/08/22/4404183/; 46. “...ɓɨɛ ɧɿɯɬɨ ɧɟ ɜɿɞɞɚɜ ɧɿɤɨɦɭ ɡɥɨɦ ɧɚ ɡɥɨ...”, http://risu.org.ua/ua/library/periodicals/lis/lis_91/lis_91_04/37628/; 47. “əɤɟ ɠ ɛɨ ɬɨɜɚɪɢɲɭɜɚɧɧɹ ɩɪɚɜɟɞɧɨɫɬɿ ɿ ɛɟɡɡɚɤɨɧɧɹ...”, http://risu.org.ua/ua/library/periodicals/lis/lis_90/lis_90_02/37648/; 48. əɧɭɤɨɜɢɱ ɨɬɪɢɦɚɽ 50 ɬɢɫɹɱ ɞɨɥɚɪɿɜ ɜɿɞ Ʉɢɪɢɥɚ, http://www.pravda.com.ua/news/2011/01/20/5811001/; 49. ɘɳɟɧɤɨ: ɉɨɦɨɝɚɣɬɟ ɧɚɦ ɫɜɨɢɦɢ ɦɨɥɢɬɜɚɦɢ ɢ ɛɥɚɝɨɫɥɨɜɟɧɢɟɦ, http://archive.mignews.com.ua/articles/148742.html.

INDEX

Agatangel (Savvin), 196 Aleksiy I (Simanskiy), 125 Aleksiy II (Ridiger), 128, 157, 179, 181, 198 Andreyeva, 122 Anthony (Khrapovitski), 101 Anthony (Masendich), 157 Antonyuk, 142 Arendt, 15, 16, 19, 20 Balík, 28, 29, 30, 34, 36, 50, 53, 66, 67 Bandera, 153 Berdyaev, 17 Berger, 2, 4, 5, 30, 31, 94, 98, 128, 129, 206 Besancon, 17 Beyer, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 22, 23, 24, 26, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 89, 95, 105, 110 Bogomilova, 103, 104, 106, 107 Bolsheviks, 115, 116, 117 Bondarenko, 189 Brezhnev, 130, 131 Bukharin, 69 Carothers, 34, 35, 50, 52, 57 Casanova, 8, 96, 97, 98, 100, 101, 102, 103, 106 Casanova Jose, 8 Chernenko, 122 Chornovil, 141, 142, 149 Christ, 16, 62, 136, 146, 149, 178 Dahl, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 48, 91, 110, 204 Dashchakivska, 194 Derkach, 170 Drach, 74, 140 Durkheim, 110, 111, 205, 206 Dzyuba, 71, 72, 73

Eisenstadt, 24, 25, 26, 86, 87, 88, 92, 94, 207 Fedoriv, 64 Filaret (Denysenko), 135, 141, 146, 152, 153, 154, 155, 157, 158, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 166, 167, 191, 196, 200, 204 Filatov, 197 Fireside, 117, 118, 122 Fisun, 44, 50, 51, 82 Furov, 121, 122 Gel, 141, 143, 145 Giddens, 80 Gongadze Georgiy, 36, 48, 171, 173, 175 Gongadze Lesia, 176 Gorbachev, 21, 69, 72, 73, 129, 130, 133, 134, 135, 138, 151, 158, 203 Habermas, 108 Hale, 54 Halík, 59, 60, 62, 63, 66 Harasymiv, 200 Hellman, 49, 50 Herman, 192 Hilarion (Shukalo), 179, 181 Hnatiuk, 72, 73 Hoffmann, 118, 119, 124, 197 Holzer, 28, 29, 30, 34, 36, 50, 53, 66, 67 Honcharuk, 137 Huntington, 51, 84, 85 Imos, 17, 18, 20 Ioann (Bodnarchuk), 156 Irynei (Seredniy), 179 Jasinowski, 17, 18 John Paul II, 135, 138, 171, 172, 173, 174, 175, 176, 177, 202 Kasyanov, 173

Religion and Politics in Ukraine Kharchev, 129, 130, 132 Khvylovy, 70, 71, 75 Kieniewicz, 77, 78, 79, 82, 85, 86, 88, 90, 92, 93 Kirill (Gundiayev), 130, 135 Koáakowski, 17 Kopystensky, 61 Kornat, 18 Kostelnyk, 120, 147, 149 Kotyk, 137 Kovalenko, 32, 192, 193 Kravchuk, 75, 77, 157, 158, 159, 160, 162, 165, 200, 201 Kuchma, 10, 37, 43, 45, 48, 54, 57, 165, 166, 167, 169, 170, 171, 172, 173, 175, 179, 182, 186 Kushn’arov, 180 Lazar (Solnichko), 37, 198 Lebed, 70, 108 Lenin, 15, 17, 69, 72, 73 Levada, 133 Lokhvycka, 142 Lubomyr (Husar), 190 Luhmann, 94, 105 Lukyanov, 135, 151 Luzhkov, 180 Lypkivskyi, 115, 116 Madelski, 159 Makariy (Oksiyuk), 120 Marciniak, 21 Marx, 15, 16, 18, 19 Medvedev, 28 Methodiy (Kudriakov), 184, 191 Michel, 2, 12, 26, 76, 91, 99, 103, 104, 202, 203 Mien, 198 Mitrofanova, 111, 112 Mohyla, 61, 63, 64, 65, 66, 89, 103 Mokry, 62, 64, 65, 79, 103, 176, 177 Moroz, 143 Motyl, 199 Myroslav Ivan (Lubachivskyi) Mstyslav (Skrypnyk), 143, 155, 156, 157, 160 Mykola (Juryk), 120, 121

231

Nemo, 110 Nicholas II, 101 Nifont (Solodukha), 194 Nikodym (Rusnak), 159 Nyskohuz, 148, 149 Oshchudlyak, 140 Palladiy (Kaminskyi), 120 Pashuk, 39 Pavel (Lebid), 169, 195 Peter I, 64, 80 Pimen (Izvekov), 125, 134, 157, 198 Politylo, 140 Pospielovskiy, 116 Prelovska, 155 Prince Volodymyr, 169, 196 Pustovoitenko, 172 Putin, 28, 182 Reshetylo, 136, 138 Rotar, 38 Ryabchuk, 74 Sahan, 168 Seraphim, 198 Sereda, 160, 166 Sergei (Stragorodsky), 114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 123, 124, 151, 197 Sheptytsky, 145 Shevchenko, 149 Skoropadsky, 200 Skrypnyk, 143, 155 Smaga, 22, 23 Sobko, 194 Stalin, 15, 20, 69, 73, 118, 123, 124, 125, 153, 154, 155, 198 Staniszkis, 41, 42, 68, 69, 87, 93, 94, 109 Stankevich, 163 Stinebrickner, 27, 28, 29, 30, 48, 91, 110, 204 Sverstyuk, 142 Symonenko, 168, 169, 172 Teodorovich, 143 Terelya, 139 Tischner, 23 Trotsky, 69 Tyahnybok, 196

232 Valuyev, 80 Voegelin, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 19 Volkov, 138 Volodymyr Monomakh, 176 Volodymyr (Romanyuk), 143, 145, 166, 167 Volodymyr (Sabodan), 66, 159, 160, 165, 169, 170, 178, 182, 186 Volodymyr (Sternyuk), 136, 144 Voloshyn, 149 Voslenskiy, 120 Warhola, 122, 125, 129, 130, 131, 132 Weber, 40, 44, 47, 84, 85 Wnuk-LipiĔski, 31, 83, 84, 86, 87, 89, 90, 91, 108

Index Yanukovych, 169, 178, 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 184, 186, 187, 189 Yarema Rostyslav, 200 Yarema Volodymyr, 140, 144, 145, 146, 147, 148, 149, 151, 154, 155, 156, 161, 202 Yelenskyi, 172 Yeltsin, 163 Yevstratiy (Zorya), 193 Yoanikiy (Kobziev), 180 Yurash, 162, 166, 181, 186, 187 Yushchenko, 43, 44, 174, 186, 187, 188, 189, 190, 191 Yuvenaliy (Poyarkov), 135 Zdioruk, 168, 206 Zinchenko, 160 Zubanov, 39