Back in the distant Soviet times I went to university in the wonderful city of Leningrad, which I have since always loved. Our class consisted of about 15 students from Leningrad (mostly Russian and Jewish) and around 10 non-residents, living at the dormitory (Russians, Ukrainians, and Belarussians).
We maintained good relationships with our classmates. Whatever divisions appeared were based purely on locality: naturally, those living in the dorm tended to stick together more. However, our fellow students from Leningrad did not keep their distances. We would visit them at home, and they, too, would come to see us at the dorm.
National identity was not an issue back then – we were all Soviet nationals. We all read the same books, sang the same songs, and watched the same movies. Neither we nor the Russians paid any special attention to national matters. The Leningrad residents would only occasionally make reference to our “province.” In summer, our Russian colleagues had holidays “in the South” rather than “in Ukraine.” And even during Khrushchev’s thaw little changed in our relations.
I wasn’t a dissident back then, though I was aware that some “fresh voices” had appeared in Leningrad at that time. Our friendship continued well after graduation. The non-residents scattered all over the country, those from Leningrad remained at home. I kept in touch with many former colleagues both in Leningrad and in other cities. We knew everything about each other: who got married, who fell ill or recovered, and how our children (and later grandchildren) fared. I took my kids to see Leningrad and stopped over at my fellow students’ places; some of them would come over to visit me. We have one great tradition: once every five years our class gathers at our alma mater. The organizers always remember to send an invitation, though I was not always able to attend. This happy friendship lasted until the collapse of the Soviet Union became imminent. At our reunion in 1990, when the atmosphere became more informal, one of the Leningraders asked me and my friend from Belarus, “Are you really so eager to separate?” Aware of the age-long rivalry between Moscow and Leningrad, I replied jokingly, “We’d love to stay with you forever! It’s Moscow we want to separate from!” Jokes apart, we did split up. Ukraine eventually became independent, and Russia, with its Petersburg-Leningrad which was so dear to me, is now a foreign country. Once in a letter, I said something critical about Putin and the Russian leadership’s overbearing attitude towards Ukraine, and here is what I got as a reply, “Look, you have become too cheeky in that Hochland of yours...” [Hochland is the derogatory name used to refer to Ukraine, due to the similarity with the word khokhol, a disparaging term for Ukrainians used by some Russians. – Ed.] And to think that this came from a cultured, educated man, my friend of many decades, rather than from some boor! You may also remember how anti-Ukrainian propaganda grew in Russia on the eve, and during, the Russo-Georgian war. A whole series of books was published, all based on the plot of a victorious Russo-Ukrainian war. The Internet and numerous domestic pro-Russian publications were rife with uniform articles, written by a certain Aleksandr Shyrokorad and others, featuring “Russia’s worst foes,” the khokhols. I was anxious to know how my Russian friends felt about this. They were all of the Soviet school, and no longer young. Just at that time I stumbled across the article by Oksana Pachliowska, What Kind of Russia Do I Love?, published in The Day. It was a great article, just in line with my sentiments and doubts. I clipped it out and sent it to Petersburg, along with a short note about Pachliowska and Lina Kostenko, and added that it was what the vast majority of Ukrainians thought. The gist of my letter was as follows: do not believe this stupid propaganda; Ukrainians are nothing like “Russia’s worst enemies,” you know me and others like me; we love you. And what do you think I got back? “...I was disgusted to read this article by this lady based somewhere out in Rome and preaching from there. I was only able to finish it due to my respect for you. How can one write this about Russia? You only can either love it, or hate it. You Ukrainians are really getting carried away...” In a word, he got terribly offended. After reading that I felt sick for a couple of days. I couldn’t figure out how I should react, and what I should do to restore our friendship. I was totally unable to comprehend how one could misunderstand Pachliowska’s clear-cut ideas. What was there that could offend Russia and the Russians? Recently I attended our next reunion in Petersburg. It was just as usual: hugs, kisses, speeches, and reminiscences of our long bygone youth. Everything went fine, everyone was enjoying themselves. Yet during the dinner talks again came to revolve around politics and current matters. What I heard at the table boils down roughly to this: “We built factories and developed agriculture for THEM. We gave THEM everything, even though it was to the detriment of the Russian people. And what did THEY do? Decided to separate. Well, fine. But now, when they saw that THEY were not able to make it without us – here THEY are again! We Russians are sick and tired of THEM.” To all my timid objections and arguments I only heard, “Just don’t take it personally, Volodia, but that’s the way it really is.” And I reiterate: all of this was said by my good old friends, whom I have known (like they have known me) for several decades. They were not those lowlifes whose boorish comments are so common on the Internet. How truly frustrating. Whence such thoughts and sentiments among ordinary Russian people? Why do they treat us Ukrainians in an absolutely different manner than they treat Poles, Romanians, or Serbs? Is it due to the influence of the egotistical, “big brother” complex, rooted in their Soviet past? Or does it go back even further? They are just incapable of perceiving Ukraine and Ukrainians as separate, independent entities. They take all those talks of “three languages, one nation” much too seriously and literally. In our country, this slogan also fosters self-contemptuous views in a certain segment of society. There is “one nation,” just as long as you speak Russian, dishonor Mazepa or Shukhevych, and as long as our leaders suck up to Putin who made just a passing visit to Kyiv to give orders concerning our energy transport systems. Neither our officials nor people themselves have proper self-respect. Before a Ukrainian stands up for his national identity, they have to apologize and drop curtsies each way. This is what we have been trained to do. The Russians, conversely, will give you a piece of their mind without caring for your hurt feelings or sense of justice. They have been right ab ovo. Why is that so? And when will it come to an end?
