Like a company’s brand, a country’s image is an intangible good providing a wide range of benefits. It can give a country the benefit of the doubt in international disputes, influence the choices of investors, attract tourists... One of the first places where this image manifests itself is through a country’s “entry points” – its consulates and borders. Many Ukrainians are used to seeing their country’s image as a liability, which it often is. In the case of Ukraine’s entry points, however, this is not quite so unequivocal.
Traveling to most countries is a quite an ordeal for most Ukrainian citizens. People are forced to queue in sub-zero temperatures and routinely subjected to arrogant remarks that would be a nightmare for human resource managers in many Western countries. Visas applications are frequently denied without valid explanation, even after additional documentation (not required by formal procedure) is provided. Bringing photos for private visa applicants is often an implied condition for positive reception, which begs the question of whether they serve any purpose other than creating a feeling of subservience (those determined enough to cheat have the internet and photoshop at their disposal, while honest citizens are simply embarrassed).
Border controls can be just as unpleasant an experience, as I personally witnessed on a trip from Budapest to Krakow last year. Soon after entering Poland we were halted by a border control unit. The gruff trio became visibly upset upon seeing my girlfriend’s Ukrainian passport and began questioning us about the purpose of the visit, demanding to see a visa for Poland. Incredibly, we had to explain to them that a multiple-entry Schengen visa allows for multiple entries to the Schengen area (of which Poland was part of). This, however, failed to convince our interrogators, who continued to sport a unique and hilarious mix of doubt, confusion, and imperiousness on their faces. After close to half an hour spent in their squad car, during which the bus attendant petulantly threatened to leave us stranded in the middle of nowhere, and after repeated assurances that “my friend promises to leave Poland after her stay in Krakow,” we were finally “let off with a warning.”
Like many traveler mishaps, the tale soon turned into a comical anecdote and was all but forgotten. Unfortunately, thousands of Ukrainians are subject to similar humiliations when traveling abroad. In all fairness such stories tend to be limited to backwater border crossings – the workers in the more frequented transit points are usually better informed, as well as more courteous. Nevertheless, it is in stark contrast with the experience of foreigners traveling in the opposite direction, for whom visa procedures maybe obstructed by unclear regulations (though only in specific cases, private and tourist visas are appealing simple), but not by the personnel. The utility of the “visa-paper,” a tiny scrap of what one can only hope is recycled paper, is highly questionable (contrary to its aesthetic appeal, which leaves no room for lenient assessment), but your author must admit that losing it once did not lead to any Draconian consequences.
Part of this difference is accounted for by a real and understandable greater need for security on behalf of Western countries, which are much more threatened by terrorism and illegal immigration. Undoubtedly, part of the fault lies with the numerous cases of visa fraud perpetuated by Ukrainian citizens. But this is no barrier to simple politeness, especially considering the patronizing lectures that many Western states tend to dish out. Ukrainians are expected to be meek and respectful when travelling West, and yet servile when receiving foreigners. Such double standards may be ubiquitous and easily explained, but that does not make them right. With European and other governments stressing the importance of positive bilateral relations with Ukraine, it may be time for them to start being respectful towards ordinary citizens as well.
