Needless to say that what we know as public relations is a modern phenomenon resulting from social relationships getting more complicated, media progress, etc. It is safe to assume that public relations rudiments date back hundreds of years. Ukraine is no exception. Some public relations elements are traced back to the times of Kyiv Rus’, found in written sources, annals, stories of saints, various instructions, and so on. Somehow or other their authors represented institutions that had become separated from society and thus needed what we would now define as public relations. This was primarily true of the Kyiv princes and the Christian Church — particularly the monasteries and convents emerging as a relatively new phenomenon in Old Rus’ society. In fact, written sources in Kyiv Rus’ were meant for a narrow stratum, people who could read and write, forming the intellectual elite, mostly clergymen making up a minute percentage. It is also true, however, that the said percentage operated a specific communication line, Christian churches attracting every week what would be termed now broad public circles, influencing a considerable number of people. Naturally, public relations in Old Rus’ were not reduced to written sources. In most cases they were exercised by word of mouth. Public relations experts at the time were singers, skomorokhs (wandering minstrels), monks, clergymen, sometimes even princes, boyars, etc. However, drawing any definite conclusions from that period of oral public relations appears problematic, as little is known about it in the absence of written sources. Therefore, we are going to dwell on such sources, with the Tale of Bygone Years, naturally, topping the list.
THE TALE OF BYGONE YEARS WITHIN THE PUBLIC RELATIONS CONTEXT
The Tale of Bygone Years (a.k.a. the Russian Primary Chronicle; the Chronicle of Nestor, and the Kyiv Chronicle — Ed.) is not only a symbol of Old Rus’ culture, but also a source of information about events in Kyiv Rus’. In fact, practically every textbook dealing with Eastern Slavic history, Kyiv Rus’ in particular, relies on this information.
Here several aspects tend to be overlooked. The Tale has reached our day as part of the Ipatyev Chronicle dating from approximately the early fourteenth century. There are no authentic written sources of the early twelfth century (the generally alleged date of the chronicle). This, in turn, calls into question the source’s authenticity.
One of the possibilities is that it was created after the decay and fall of Kyiv Rus’, for certain public relations and ideological purposes. What purposes? One ought to bear in mind that Kyiv marked a degree of progress in the fifteenth century, when the Olelkovych dynasty had been established, claiming the sovereign status. The city’s cultural and religious life had also livened up, the Kyiv- Pechersk Monastery of the Caves was getting increasingly active, its Assumption Cathedral had started being restored. Incidentally, the Tale of Bygone Years lauds this temple in every possible way. At that period a book-lovers’ society formed in Kyiv; its members translated from Byzantine and Arabic authors, including historical works.
It was important for the Olelkovych rulers to promote Kyiv, so they might have ordered such a chronicle — and the Tale glorifies Kyiv, placing it over and above the other cities and lands of Old Rus’. This hypothesis is by no means unfounded; in fact, one could defend it with practically as many arguments as those in favor of the Tale originating from the early twelfth century (the latter assumption having become formally accepted of late). Regrettably, the issue of dating the Tale (it being of principal importance for us) remains a matter of faith and scholarly intuition rather than logical proof.
Nevertheless, we shall proceed from the traditional assumption that the Tale of Bygone Years emerged when Kyiv Rus’ was in its prime under Volodymyr Monomakh. At that time the Slavic state was at the peak of its might but already starting on the way down. Under the circumstances the appearance of a synthetic work was quite feasible; on the one hand, it would analyze the road traveled by the Old Rus’ state, and on the other promote Kyiv as the “mother of Rus’ cities,” which could have been an intellectual response to the growing strength of other centers. Although we do not rule out the possibility that the Tale could appear in the fifteenth century, under the Olelkovych dynasty, as a revised version with a stronger emphasis on Kyiv.
As it is, the Tale can by no means be regarded as an unbiased account of past events. Rather, it appears as a public relations project of sorts, serving the interest of the Kyiv princes and, to an extent, that of the Kyiv-Pechersk Monastery. This chronicle — especially the legends therein — should be considered from precisely this point of view, the more so that the legends it contains are obviously PR-oriented. We shall further discuss these aspects.
THE LEGEND OF ST. ANDREW
It is interesting to study the background of the well-known legend about the travels of Saint Andrew (known here as Andrew the First-called) “from the Varangians to the Greeks” and what subsequently happened to it, the changes and interpretations. The Tale of Bygone Years reads that Apostle Andrew, while preaching in Sinope, arrived in Kursun [Korsun] on a mission and there he learned that the Dnipro estuary was not far from that place. He decided to sail down the river. On arriving at the place (where Kyiv now stands), the Apostle saw the hills and prophetically announced to his disciples that a big city would be built there, and that many churches would appear by the will of the Lord. He then climbed the hills and blessed them. After that he traveled to the Slovenes (where Novgorod is now). There he saw people using public baths, beating themselves with young twigs to death, then being doused with cold water and coming alive. If one is to proceed strictly from the Tale’s context, this legend fits well into the set of ethnographic stories contained in the chronicle.
However, if one is to follow the Tale, St. Andrew’s mission was anything but “educational.” The legend about the Apostle is preceded by a detailed account of that road “from the Varangians to the Greeks” as a kind of geopolitical axis of Kyiv Rus’, so the story about St. Andrew emerges as a logical sequel, particularly his traveling along that axis. In fact, the legend was included to sanctify that road, rather one of the central points of the route: Kyiv.
It follows from the chronicle that St. Andrew saw wilderness in place of Kyiv; no one to teach or to baptize. Here the Apostle’s prophecy acquires special importance. He declared that the grace of God would be conferred on that place and a big city would appear. Symptomatically, the legend about St. Andrew is followed by an account of the foundation of Kyiv. Outwardly, these stories are unrelated. The first one is about a Christian apostle and the second about heathen princes Kyi and his brothers. Yet there is a certain logical connection between them, even if not easily noticeable to the modern reader. The foundation and subsequent spectacular progress of Kyiv are described in the Tale as the realization of St. Andrew’s prophecy.
While creating a myth about St. Andrew’s travels, the chronicler had in mind not an account of some historical realities, but an assertion of certain ideas. Had the Apostle found any people in the Kyiv hills (they should be Slavs or Rusychi under the chronicle’s mythological logic), he would have had to baptize them. However, at the time the Tale was written, it was generally assumed that Christianity had come to the Slavs from Moravia, and that the people had been baptized by Paul, not Andrew.
In addition, there already was a myth about the people of Kyiv baptized by Prince Volodymyr; it was also reflected in the Tale. In light of all this, the baptism of Kyivans by St. Andrew would have looked illogical. One ought to bear in mind further that the Kyivans still vividly remembered a number of pre-Christian legends at the time the Tale was written, including stories about the confrontation between the heathens and Christians in Kyiv. Therefore, assuming that the Kyivans were baptized during the apostolic period, how is one to explain that heathen resistance?
The situation with the future people of Novgorod appears entirely different. St. Andrew could communicate with them and learn their ways. And the Tale does not mention their baptism. The obvious inference is that the Slovenes turned out unworthy of the privilege. Moreover, upon arriving in Rome, St. Andrew made a point of telling about weird Slovene traditions, in fact portraying them as barbarians.
Suppose we dare assume that the legend about St. Andrew was included in the Tale not only to describe the road from the Varangians to the Greeks, but also to glorify Kyiv while belittling the importance of Novgorod, both cities being the key rivals on that route. However, the legend about St. Andrew, with a certain public relations purpose in mind, eventually began to live a life of its own. Sometime at the turn of the thirteenth century another legend appeared, to the effect that St. Andrew left his staff in the land of Novgorod. In particular, the event is mentioned in the Stepennaya Kniga [Dignified Book]. At precisely that period, Novgorod showed some aloofness from the feud of the Rus’ princes, while gaining strength, meaning that the city nobility required myths corroborating their equal status with that of Kyiv.
Later, in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, when Muscovy had grown stronger, claiming the Byzantine heritage on the one hand and that of Old Rus’ on the other, the above legend proved very instrumental. St. Andrew was considered Pontiff of Constantinople, so his visit to Rus’ could be somehow used to allege that the Christian tradition had existed there since the apostolic times, and that it remained Byzantine from the outset.
WAS THE TALE ’S AUTHOR NORMAN-MINDED?
Most researchers of the Tale of Bygone Years single out the legend about the call for the Varangians and the legend gave rise to the Norman theory. Historians agree that the family tree of the Kyiv princes — and de facto of Kyiv Rus’ — is rooted in the Varangian Rurik who was invited to rule that land.
We believe this assumption to be wrong. The author and compiler of the Tale does not attribute special importance to that call for the Varangians. Incidentally, this legend occupies a noticeably smaller space in the chronicle. He attributes the beginning of the Kyivan state to Kyi and his brothers, not to the Varangian Rurik. In the Tale, the legend about Saint Andrew is followed by the one about Kyiv being founded by three brothers Kyi, Shchek, and Khoryv. This legend, as well as the preceding one, should be considered within the context of the confrontation between Kyiv and Novgorod.
It seems worth singling out certain aspects. In the first place, the author emphasizes the city founders’ autochthonousness. They are not strangers from strange lands; they are Poliany that had lived there since time immemorial. Prince Kyi, the actual founder of Kyiv, was famous for his military campaigns beyond the Danube, even against Constantinople. The chronicler writes that he was accorded a “great honor” by a Byzantine emperor (without identifying him). Finally, after the brothers’ death, their dynasty “proceeded to rule the Poliany.” In other words, the brothers founded a princely dynasty in Kyiv, thus actually setting up the first state formation.
This legend is contradicted by the one about the call for the Varangians to come to Novgorod. We believe that the chronicler was not Norman-minded. Rather to the contrary, he was consciously opposed to Normanization. As for the legend about the call for the Varangians, he included it not to prove the Norman origin of Old Rus’, but to once again humiliate the people of Novgorod.
By way of foreword, the said legend reads: “[In the year] 895, the Varangians, arriving from overseas, collected tribute from the Finns, Slovenes, from the sea and the land, and from the Kryvychi. The Khazars collected tribute from the Poliany, Siveriany, and Viatichi...” In other words, the Varangians controlled the northern part of the Varangian-Greek route, from the upper reaches of the Volga, collecting tribute from the populace. The Khazars held the southern part of the route.
The above description makes one assume that the Poliany and the Slovenes (later to become rivals on the Varangian-Greek route) were in the same boat, having to pay tribute to the foreign Varangians. There is one hitch. This account is preceded by a legend about how the Poliany decided to pay tribute to the Khazars: “In those years, after the death of the brothers Kyi, Shchek, and Khoryv, the Poliany found themselves oppressed by the Drevliany and other neighboring tribes. The Khazars found them hiding in the woods and the mountains. The Khazars said, ‘You will pay us tribute.’ The Poliany held counsel and agreed to pay them a sword. The Khazars informed their prince and elders that they had found new payers of tribute. ‘Where did you find them?’ they were asked. They replied that they had found them in the woods and in the mountains over the river Dnipro. ‘How did they pay?’ They showed the sword, whereupon the Khazar elders said, ‘This tribute bodes evil news, Prince. We took it with our sabers, each with a single cutting edge. Their sword is double-edged. They will make us and other lands pay tribute to them.’ And this came to pass, for they spoke not of their will but by the will of the Lord.”
This legend does not sound truthful, of course, but Nestor leads the reader to assume that the tribute the Poliany paid the Khazars was not substantial, that the whole arrangement was temporary, and that the Poliany would eventually get the better of the Khazars and other tribes.
The Slovenes and their neighbors were a different story: “The Varangians were driven out and across the sea; they were paid no tribute, and they [the Slovenes] began to rule their own land, but they knew no peace and the tribes fought among themselves; they had feud. Finally they decided to call for a prince who would take them under his hand and rule them as justice and the law dictated. So they traveled across the sea, to the Varangians. They went to Rus’, for such was the name of the Varangians... The Finns, Slovenes, Kryvychi, and all the others told Rus’, ‘Our land is vast and generous, but there is no law and order in it. Come there and rule us as princes.” The author further tells about three brothers — Rurik, Sineus, and Truvor — who ruled the south Rus’ lands as princes.
It is another myth (albeit well composed and sounding rather convincing) with its own logic, insofar as the author of the Tale of Bygone Years is concerned. The legend about the call for the Varangians actually contradicts the myth about the foundation of Kyiv, as evidenced by certain parallels; Kyiv is supposed to have been founded by three brothers, whereas three brothers are invited to rule the north of Rus’. In the first case the trio is from among the autochthonous Poliany tribe. In the second, from among the Varangians living overseas. Inference? The Poliany are supposed capable of self-government and can have their own princes, whereas the peoples living in the north of Rus’ — primarily the Slovenes — are not and cannot.
With time the legend about the call for the Varangians changed and historians in Ukraine in the distant past paid little attention to it, simply stating the fact of the call for the Varangians. In the eighteenth century, however, the legend experienced a renascence of sorts, first in the Russian empire and then in the West. Now it was interpreted differently. The chronicler’s account of the call for the Varangians was considered as proof that Old Rus’ had been founded by Normans.
Thus emerged the Norman theory. It did have points in its favor, as it was originally a PR response of sorts on the part of the German immigrants, rather than a scholarly theory. At the turn of the eighteenth century, the Russian intellectual elite was largely composed of people originating from the Ukrainian lands and they made a number of tangible corrections in the Russian ideology. They influenced the formation of the concept of Kyiv Rus’ (largely owing to the Kyiv Synopsis), and that Kyiv Rus’ was the precursor of Muscovy. Under Peter I, the concept even served to beget the name of the Russian empire (one is strongly reminded of Peter I’s number-one public relations expert, the Ukrainian Feofan Prokopovych). And the notions Rus’ and Russia remain close synonyms in the Russian language.
The concept of Kyiv Rus’ as the precursor of Muscovy was required at the turn of the eighteenth century by the Ukrainian intelligentsia in the first place, as well as by some of the government officials of Ukrainian parentage trying to make a career in Russia. It was important for them to prove that they were “blood brothers” of the Russians, coming from Kyiv Rus’, their common historic homeland; in other words, they could and should possess equal rights with the Muscovites.
In the early eighteenth century the situation began to noticeably change as Peter I had opened a “window unto Europe” through the Baltic Sea and there was a heavy influx of German immigrants often claiming important political posts, privileges among the intellectual elite, etc. They found the Norman theory very convenient, for it said that Kyiv Rus’ had been established by Varangians (that is, Scandinavians).
So much for the peculiar metamorphoses with the legend about the call for the Varangians.
