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Where there is no law, but every man does what is right in his own eyes, there is the least of real liberty
Henry M. Robert

The Pereyaslav Rada of 1654 in Myths and Realities

28 January, 2003 - 00:00

The President of Ukraine’s decree on proclaiming 2003 as the Year of the Russian Federation in Ukraine, along with the celebration of the 350th anniversary of the 1654 Pereyaslav Cossack Rada, has again drawn the attention of the public and diverse political parties. The attention directed towards Ukrainian-Russian relations has also fomented a sort of unwholesome agitation over a problem that has long ceased to be the object of academic debates. For some, it is an ideological symbol of the unity of “two fraternal Slav peoples,” for others, it is an awesome illustration of “Moscow’s chauvinistic intentions.”

To help its readers arrive at a view of their own on this issue, Den/The Day is introducing the heading “Ukraine and Russia in History and Myths” under which it is going to publish a series of articles on the most pressing and difficult problems of Ukrainian-Russian relations. These articles will be found in our Ukraine Incognita section throughout the current year. The publications will represent the views of professional historians, but we also would be pleased to hear the opinion of our readers.

The events surrounding the Pereyaslav Cossack Rada of January 18 (January 8 according to the Julian calendar), 1654, have been interpreted so differently and contradictorily in the historical, political science and culture-study literature that it is difficult to assert that even the date is correct. The gaps are so wide among accounts, one might wonder if in reality the events of this day never happened at all. The competing interpretations of the 1654 Pereyaslav events are so tenacious and the judgments so diametrically opposed that not much hope exists, for example, to convince otherwise those who sincerely worship the idea of “unity- seeking enlightenment” that came down on the heads of Bohdan Khmelnytsky and his lieutenants and thus shaped Ukraine’s further destiny “for centuries to come.” Obviously, equally misleading are efforts to instill doubt in the minds of those who are firmly convinced there was no Cossack rada (assembly) in Pereyaslav on that day or, if there was one, it was not attended by the whole (?!) population of Ukraine. So I address this piece to those who seek to understand what actually happened in Pereyaslav on that short winter day of 1654, how the two sides had been approaching it, and in which ways they went after Pereyaslav.

1. Khmelnytsky and Moscow in 1648-1653: Did All Roads Really Lead to Pereyaslav Alone?

What set into motion the official relations between Hetman Bohdan Khmelnytsky’s government and Muscovite Tsar Aleksei Mikhailovich? The answer is the hetman’s letter, dated June 8/18, 1648, i.e., at the very beginning of the Cossacks’ liberation war that had broken out a few months before in Zaporizhzhia. What did the letter say and how was it interpreted by Russian and Soviet historians?

First of all, the hetman informed the tsar about the victories he had won over the Polish, requested military aid, and expressed a desire to see an Orthodox Christian monarch on Warsaw’s royal throne. The latter allowed the historians who tried to find some kind of unification-oriented rhetoric in the Cossack leader’s statements to view the letter as the first appeal to the tsar to take Ukraine under his protectorship. But did Khmelnytsky indeed set for himself this goal? Undoubtedly no. This can be explained, above all, by the fact that the then Cossacks could not yet picture themselves outside the Polish Kingdom’s body politic. They waged their struggle under the slogans of protecting the Orthodox faith from the oppression of Catholics, especially Jesuits, guaranteeing the Cossacks their old rights and privileges, and reinforcing the royal power, which could save the Ukrainian people from the abuses of local magnates.

But what about urging the tsar to ascend the king’s throne? There is no contradiction in this, either. For shortly before, in May 1648, King Wladyslaw IV died. Any noble dignitary of the state could nominate a monarchic candidate of his own, which was in no way considered high treason at the time when the throne was vacant. The ascension of an Orthodox monarch would have been indisputably beneficial to Orthodox Ukraine. This would have put an end to religious harassment.

One must also remember that Khmelnytsky had another quite important reason for establishing friendly relations with Moscow. By request of the Polish side, and under the secret Polish-Russian anti-Tatar treaty of 1647, the tsarist troops were about to attack the Cossacks. At the time, the Cossacks were in alliance with the Tatars whom they had called upon to join Ukraine in its struggle against the Poles.

The following months of resounding victories not only inspired self-confidence in the insurgents, but also brought about important changes in the political philosophy of the uprising leaders and promoted the revision of war goals. In early 1649, Khmelnytsky spelled out for the first time the goal of Ukraine’s secession from Rzeczpospolita (the Polish Kingdom) and the establishment of an independent Cossack state.

The hetman was forced to seek trustworthy and strong allies. Ukrainian diplomats were blazing trails to the monarchic courts of Central and South-Eastern Europe and persistently negotiating with the separatist-minded Protestant leaders of Lithuania. At this time, B. Khmelnytsky — perhaps influenced by Patriarch Paisios of Jerusalem, who was close to Tsar Aleksei’s court and wholeheartedly endorsed the idea of forming a powerful Orthodox axis — sent his first envoy to Moscow with a proposal to place the Cossack army under the tsar’s protection. Mindful of the tragic consequences of the armed conflicts with Rzeczpospolita in the Time of Troubles and during the Smolensk War, the Moscow leadership left the Ukrainian appeals unanswered, only confining itself to moral support.

Left alone, the Cossack army failed to inflict a decisive defeat on Poland in the 1649 Battle of Zborow. Ukrainian-Russian relations took a downturn. At this time, Chyhyryn (the Cossack capital — Ed.) provided refuge to an impostor who claimed he was son of the Muscovite Tsar Vasily Shuysky and, hence, a legal successor to the Moscow throne. The hetman remained deaf to the demands to extradite the impostor. Besides, accusing Moscow of treason, the hetman threatened to force it to come out against the Poles or, failing that, to wreak relentless vengeance on the Muscovite frontier districts.

This continued until the beginning of 1651, when the specter of a new war with Poland was emerging. As he did two years before, Khmelnytsky made an all-out effort not to remain alone in the face of a powerful enemy. To this end, he intensified contacts with Transylvania, Walachia, Moldova, and explored the possibility of rapprochement with Sweden. A very strong impulse was given to relations with the Crimean Khanate and the Ottoman Empire, its suzerain. The relations with Moscow were also noticeably defrosting. The General Council convened in Moscow in the late winter of 1651. It even resolved that Muscovy might renounce its “eternal peace” with Poland and render assistance to Ukraine.

However, these decisions largely remained on paper. Meanwhile, Khmelnytsky managed to bring the Crimean khan, alone, to the Battle of Berestechko in the summer of 1651, who betrayed him in the critical hour. As is known, the defeat was followed by the harsh Bila Tserkva Peace Treaty that in fact thwarted the Ukrainian people’s efforts to establish a state of their own. And, although the brilliant victory the Ukrainian army won near Batih the next year nullified the humiliating treaty, this left them with very slim chances for a successful end to the war against the Rzeczpospolita. Power in Poland. The hetman’s erroneous policies towards the Danube states brought them to the camp of Warsaw’s allies, while the Crimean khan openly demonstrated an unwillingness to see a strong Ukrainian state next to his country’s borders.

The Ukrainian elite thus faced a tragic dilemma: either to give up the achieved progress in the formation of a state and bow to the Polish king, or to try to enlist the support of a third side, even at the possible expense of their own sovereignty.

Khmelnytsky considered at that time the Muscovite tsar and the Turkish sultan as the most likely protectors of Ukraine. Accepting the protection by both of them entailed certain advantages as well as disadvantages. While Moscow, as usual, dragged its feet, the first encouraging signal came from Istanbul. In mid-May, Chyhyryn received a Sublime Porte envoy that handed the hetman, on behalf of Sultan Mehmed IV, the credentials and the official insignia of a vassal ruler. The sultan-proposed conditions of vassalage were far better than those imposed on the Crimean khan.

It seemed that Khmelnytsky achieved his tactical goal of independence. Yet, the hetman did not hurry to make the final decision. What stood in his way? It is difficult to answer this question today. Maybe, negative attitude to a Mohammedan sultan in Ukraine. Maybe, it was Khmelnytsky’s sober assessment of military dividends from this alliance, for the Porte was bogged down at that time in an exhausting war with Venice and was hardly able to render serious military assistance. Or, perhaps, the restraining factor was that the news of Ukrainian-Turkish rapprochement compelled Muscovite politicians to stop their feet-dragging and inform Ukraine as early as June 1653 that the tsar intended to take it under his protection. Tellingly, the decisions of the 1653 General Council emphasized Ukrainian unwillingness to be subjects of the Turkish sultan or the Crimean khan.

Whatever the case, the two sides had chosen the way to Pereyaslav by the fall of 1653. Incidentally, the Muscovite side insisted that the ceremony of taking Ukraine under the tsar’s protection be held in Kyiv, near the walls of St. Sophia’s Cathedral. This would have been a very symbolic act of “gleaning the Russian lands” by Moscow. Yet, the hetman pointed to Pereyaslav. All we can do here is make guesses: did the hetman do so because he viewed this act as simply a tactical success rather than an achievement of a strategic goal?

(To be continued)

By Viktor HOROBETS, Doctor of History; Chief, Social History Center, Institute of Ukrainian History, National Academy of Sciences of Ukraine
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