Russian science fiction authors, when modeling their country’s near or distant future, will typically envisage Ukraine as a constituent part of Russia.
This is the case particularly in those versions of the future where Russia returns to monarchy. It does not matter whether it is an interstellar empire, or is confined to our planet: in any case, Ukraine inevitably ends up under “the state scepter, crowned with the Paleologs’ double-headed eagle.”
There can also be another scenario, like that offered by Roman Zlotnikov in his novel The Empire, when the Ukrainian president, having effectively ruined the nation’s economy, signs a “crown treaty” with the latter-day Russian sovereign monarch.
In a worse case scenario, as we can see in Kholm van Zaichik’s (Vyacheslav Rybakov) Case of Independent Dervishes, the country, which can easily be identified as Ukraine, merely turns into a province within the Orduss, a historico-political hybrid of the Horde and Rus’.
There are yet other fantastic versions of the future, with a full-scale war waged between Russia and Ukraine, but we will refrain from considering clinical manifestations of the authors’ imagination here. However, it is worth mentioning that occasionally the authors of such texts, enjoying popularity not only in Russia, but also in Ukraine, reside in this very country.
We failed to find a single work of the modern Russian science fiction, where Ukraine and Russia would be depicted as equal powers, coexisting in the future and respecting each other’s sovereignty. The tendency is self-explanatory.
It might seem a waste of time, paying too much attention to such a literary-political phenomenon as the discrediting of Ukraine’s future (as well as its present and past) via science fiction. However, the problem is that the Ukrainian consumer market for the Russian humanitarian products, such as books, TV series, movies, TV programs, and concert tours, makes up one third of the Russian market proper. Another 25 percent is made up by Belarus, the Transcaucasian states, Kazakhstan, Israel, and the Baltic States. Thus, the abasement of Ukraine and the formation of its lasting negative image in these countries is largely done at the cost of Ukrainians themselves.
An image of Ukraine as a nation which will blame all of its problems on Russia, and the treatment of the social processes going on in Ukraine, are aptly reflected in Sergei Lukianenko’s famous letter to his Ukrainian readers. This letter drew a wide response far beyond the borders of this country.
As 2004 was drawing to its close, this popular Russian science fiction author sent us the following greeting:
“I want to congratulate you.
“To congratulate you on choosing a president.
“I am very happy, indeed, that you have elected Viktor Yushchenko rather than someone else.
“Your election was absolutely democratic and totally in line with your laws. I rejoice at the victory of the opinion of the young, robust, merry students who spent a month on the Maidan instead of having boring classes – rather than the opinion of the ‘dirty miners crawling underground, who are used to servitude.’
“I am happy to think that Ukraine’s culture will be revived by those people who know for sure that Russian is ‘the language of primitive pop and criminal songs.’ I am convinced that now Ukraine will easily join the European family of nations.
“Tomorrow, the standard of living in Ukraine will rocket, and you will not need any visas to travel around Europe. I am also sure that this version of your election will be approved in Washington, D.C., and will be recognized as democratic and legitimate. I am happy that you have displayed civic wisdom, resisted the pressure from abroad, and have not allowed anyone to indoctrinate you.
“But what makes me really exultant is the thought that in a couple of years, when you have understood that you have been used and fooled, you will not be able to blame Russia and the Russians for it.”
Back then, many found this letter angry and unfair. It has not become less angry today, and yet Lukianenko’s brilliant forecast of the Ukrainians’ disappointment at their choice cannot but evoke respect. How different it is from the astrologist Pavel Globa and his prophecy about Yulia Tymoshenko’s inevitable victory in the presidential election of 2010!
Meanwhile, the contraposition of the “merry students” and the “dirty miners,” and the thesis about the revival of the Ukrainian culture by people who call Russian the language of “primitive pop and criminal songs,” do not testify to the author’s goodwill towards his addressees – and this is perhaps an understatement. The readers will remember that this was the opinion voiced by a leading Russian science fiction author.
The modern Ukrainian writers, as well as the other manufacturers of humanitarian products, give virtually no adequate response to the challenge overtly offered by numerous Russian authors, including those residing in Ukraine.
This can be accounted for by both their indifference and the fear of breaking up with the Russian literary beau monde, together with publishers and critics. Neither have the subjects of Ukrainian state cultural politics offered any appreciable attempts to resist the humanitarian aggression. An exception could be seen in the talks about the ban on showing the film We Are from the Future-2 in Ukraine.
However, a ban is a negative action taken by the weak. Moreover, it is an action which will result in just the opposite: the growth of an interest in the subject. Meanwhile, Ukraine is not rushing to offer its own powerful counterproposal in the form of a high-quality humanitarian product. This can be accounted for not only by the absence of an adequate commercial demand, but also by the prevailing interests of momentary survival. We are too lazy to care about our own future, let alone the future of the entire human civilization.
Kostiantyn Matviienko is an expert for the Hardarika Strategic Consulting Corporation
