No matter what scholars say, I am convinced that the roots of civilization began growing not when the first state was formed, and not when the first war erupted from a dispute about a fruit tree on a borderline. It was not because the builders of the Tower of Babel not only began speaking different languages, but immediately set about imposing their dialects on all their neighbors by military force.
All that, of course, took place, but mankind’s real development got a boost from the first written historical stories that were carved in stone, written on papyrus, birch bark, parchment, clay plates, and also-in the Ukrainian newspaper The Day. Recorded in the pages of History, they would be read and studied by people until the end of time. For it is there, in the chronicles, not in everyday life, that events become great, meaningful, and artistically perfect. There, the key actors don robes of nobility, wisdom, and courage, i.e., they become historic figures.
Historical studies in The Day have become an inalienable-and for many of our readers, an attractive-part of our publications, without which the newspaper’s image might be totally different (after all, today’s politics are a far cry from being tablets of history). Dozens, if not hundreds, of historical figures, heroes and anti-heroes of all times and nations have proudly marched through the pages of our newspaper. Particularly interesting is the fact that one way or another each figure, even those from the depths of history, rushes to explicate to readers the meaning of current events and to demonstrate that history is a universal theater, where masks and costumes are sometimes more important than the events themselves. If you take a closer look at the changeable historical map of Ukraine, you get the impression that there have never been (and still are not) any broad highways, only a network of pathways leading in different directions. Every path is taken by somebody walking somewhere, people meeting each other at crossroads, trying to understand each other’s routes but nearly always failing (and still failing). Once again, everyone hurries along his own pathway in his own “right” direction.
There is no connection between the different generations’ directions and activities either. They are bound only by indifferent Pandora’s treasure chest, packed with quarrels since the days of the flood, jealousy, selfishness, and hostile rivalry. This chest is the main birthright of every succeeding generation. There has never been a generation with enough sense to leave this Pandora’s chest locked, not argue with the dead, and not judge them. However, there seem to be more and more historians (some of The Day’s articles attest to this), who want less to understand the past than seek in it allies or enemies, or even worse, weapons for skirmishes. One of the bitter phenomena of both past and present is a special, purely Ukrainian, perversion. According to this, Ukrainians have only ever demonstrated (to this day) their considerable and multifaceted abilities and talents only in service to foreign states (beyond the geographical and spiritual boundaries of their motherland). For this very reason they are highly respected by foreign rulers.
Here is just one small example connected with the building of our religious life, a question that no one seems capable of resolving. After Tsar Peter I abolished the office of the Moscow patriarch, he replaced it with the Holy Synod and personally selected its 11 members. Stefan Yavorsky became the president of the synod, and Feofan Prokopovych — its vice- president. Both of these men were graduates of the Kyiv-Mohyla Collegium. Five of the synod’s counselors were also graduates of this institution. The members of the synod included a Greek and a Serb, as well as two (!) lower-ranking Great Russians. It has been this way ever since — we can do everything in the arts, politics, church building-just give us foreign ground!
History is a capricious lady. Sometimes it seems that people of different eras do not differ much from each other; that the same personalities march along the roads of history throughout the centuries, merely changing their costumes. Take a closer look at contemporary politicians and try to imagine one wearing Cossack garments, another — a traditional boyar’s coat, a third one — Western clothes, another — a monk’s cassock. Then you will understand how easy it is to find a personage for every principal role today — a Buturlin, a Samoilovych, a Nemyrych, a Makhno, etc.
If you translate today’s slogans, speeches, and promises into the slightly modified language of the past, you will end up with the words of Ecclesiastes, in which he is definitely speaking about Ukrainians: “All is vanity... The wind...whirleth about continually...and there is no new thing under the sun.” It is no wonder then that not only past events can help us understand those of today, but vice versa — contemporary social phenomena, and especially the personalities of modern history’s main characters, can serve as models for studying the past, primarily the bitter defeats of the past. But is it possible to answer the following questions: “Are there people of the future among us today? Or are we a nation that lives only in the past, and all its heroes are just characters in an ancient morality play, remaining unchanged for centuries?” Or perhaps the issue is that all the outstanding actors of that play were co-opted (bought?) and now they are playing foreign historical roles even when they are performing on their native stage?
Perhaps their freedom should be purchased, the way our prisoners used to be ransomed from Istanbul or the Horde? The main difficulty with this is that many people change their essence along with their costumes of another epoch or state especially when they don livery — a serf’s uniform.
Many people have retained in their memory this or that historical figure to whom they compare the actors now appearing on the stage of contemporary history. My favorites are those young, chiefly unknown, men from Ukrainian towns and small villages, who, from the 15th century onward, set out on foot to Western Europe without anybody’s material support (like grants or charity funds) with miserable bags over their shoulders, in search of an education. There they studied languages, philosophy, medicine, music, and life itself. They became professors and even rectors of Western universities and then returned home to teach others.
