Today the main character of my story is the prominent Jewish activist, talented man of letters, humanist, and political writer Volodymyr (Zeiev) Zhabotynsky (1880-1940). Throughout his life he fought — with the pen and sometimes with the sword — to defend the rights of the Jewish people. Unlike many Ukrainian patriots and others, he was well aware of the tragic lot of other oppressed nations, including Ukrainians, and he was an active public advocate of their rights. Zhabotynsky wrote several brilliantly pointed articles in defense of the rights of the Ukrainian people and their language. He also understood that for Russia the nationalities question was crucial to its future and was an issue that was “more important than all other political or even social problems. The life of each state is fated to revolve around the problem of nationalities, like around an axis” (as we can see in present-day Ukraine).
On the eve of the First World War, Zhabotynsky’s public opponent was Petr Struve, a Russian political figure and one of the founders and leaders of the Constitutional Democratic Party “National Freedom.” In pre-war and pre-revolutionary Tsarist Russia Struve, who was a German by birth, consistently advocated the existence of a “single Russian nation,” pompously defending the “already accomplished merging” of Russians, Ukrainians, and Belarusians into a single nation, and he steadfastly opposed the national movements of the non-Slavic nations in the Russian Empire. In his articles Zhabotynsky put forward a well-argued case against Struve’s ideas and defended the so- called “Ukrainian question.” The argument was followed by all of Russia, and well-known Ukrainian political writers and historians of the period also joined the debate.
Why am I bringing up events of the past — this turn-of-the-century argument that flared up in Russia almost 100 years ago? The reason is that in Ukraine the fierce dispute between Zhabotynsky and Struve has still not been resolved. In present-day Ukraine, not to mention Russia, there are quite a few undisguised followers of Struve among well-known and influential Ukrainian politicians, including MPs, ministers, and political memoirists, who advocate the “single Russian nation” on the territory of Ukraine. That is why the profound insights and weighty arguments advanced by Zhabotynsky are so relevant today. (It seems that in Ukraine the more important a social problem is, the more centuries it takes to finally resolve it.)
Below are excerpts from Zhabotynsky’s well-known article “On Languages and Other Things,” which was first published in 1911 in the newspaper Odesskie novosti (Odesa News) and later reprinted in many periodicals throughout the Russian Empire. This article was also published abroad.
I trust that readers of The Day will gain an appreciation of this writer, who constantly defended the rights of his nation — his lifelong cause — as well as those of other oppressed peoples in the Russian Empire, including Ukrainians, despite the fact that Jewish- Ukrainian relations in Ukraine have never been ideal, to put it mildly.
Zhabotynsky was always convinced that the “fate of not only Ukrainians but Russians” would completely depend on the position adopted by the multimillion-strong Ukrainian nation. “In the event that Ukrainians agree to be ultimately Russified, Russia will go one way. If not, it will be compelled to tread some other path.” Zhabotynsky backed up this statement with the data from the 1897 census in Russia. It turned out that the “almighty” Russians comprised a mere 43 percent of the empire’s population. In Zhabotynsky’s opinion, the spread of the Great Russians’ influence to the territories of other nations is based on “age-long violence and deprivation of rights,” which was always practiced by the imperial Russian government at all times. However, in moving along this path, Russia will at one point face a dilemma: either it will go the way of national decentralization or, in Zhabotynsky’s words, “there will be no room in it for any democratic foundations, including, above all, universal suffrage.” (Readers should recall the last Russian elections, which were so disgraceful that international observers stayed away.)
Zhabotynsky was also cognizant of the fact that “if Ukrainians acknowledged themselves, from now on and forever, as part of the Russian (“universal Russian”) nation, Struve and his followers would be right about the “merging” of the two Slavic peoples into one nation. A universal law says that if a certain population perceives itself as a part of a bigger nation, its language will never rise above the status of a local dialect, no matter how significant the difference between this ‘dialect’ and the dominant language may be.” Such a people will have no other options except to embrace Russification, acknowledging their language as a “dialect,” and drowning it in the “deep, quiet puddles of rural life.” The Ukrainian intelligentsia will speak, read, and think in “universal Russian” and the culture of such a people will develop through this language.
Russian culture will enrich itself with the juices of Ukrainian talents, unbeknownst to the world, with all the credit going to the Russian language and culture. “Only sometimes will some meticulous scholars remember that the language created by the genius of the Great Russians has devoured its other minor varieties wholesale, including some Ukrainian tribe with its rural dialect,” Zhabotynsky wrote.
However, not everything in the empire depends on Russia, its apologists, historians, and scholars. According to Zhabotynsky, “when someone really wants to know whether there really is a separate Ukrainian national language, let him search for the answer in the political and national consciousness of the population rather than in the language. When a population considers itself a separate nation, it irrepressibly strives to create a new, full-fledged culture using its own language — even in those cases where this language differs very insignificantly from the language of the dominant nation.”
Zhabotynsky refutes the widely accepted (even today) evidence of “complete Russification,” which is based on the observation that Kyiv, Odesa, Katerynoslav (Dnipropetrovsk), and other large cities in Ukraine speak Russian almost exclusively. This leads some to jump to the conclusion that such cities will never speak “Little Russian.” Zhabotynsky, who was an erudite and fluent in more than 10 languages, knew all too well that this is simply not true: “Sixty years ago, in the mid-19th century, all of Prague and almost all of Budapest spoke German exclusively (because they were part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire). To the urban population of the day-Hungarians, Czechs, Slovaks, etc. — the thought of a “rural” vernacular dominating these fine pavements seemed wild and nonsensical. Today Budapest speaks Hungarian and Prague speaks Czech — and not just on the streets but in courts, theater, universities, and technical schools. Times change and we change in them. Will Kyiv not start speaking Ukrainian in the 21st century?
Zhabotynsky also mentions well-known Russian-language writers who were Ukrainian by birth. “When they want to prove that Russian culture is a product of a three-way interaction (among Russians, Ukrainians, and Belarusians), rather than a uniquely Russian phenomenon, they drag onto the stage Gogol, Korolenko, and others, as though saying: Here are the Little Russians who contributed to the ‘common Russian literature’ (this is mentioned very rarely today in Russia). But did German culture become German — Jewish because of Heine? No, the general character of any culture does not change when life infuses into it the culture of a different blood, and even the culture of genius. So even 10 Gogols will not transform Russian culture into a ‘universal Russian’ one — it will always be Russian, i.e., Great Russian. Alongside it the Ukrainian people must create their literature in their own language, even if they have to force their way through a thicket of difficulties.”
As confirmation of his thoughts, Zhabotynsky quotes Mykhailo Hrushevsky: “After putting an end to Ukraine’s political individuality, the tsarist government was not content: it resolved to wipe out and destroy all manifestations of Ukraine’s national life, all the features of the Ukrainian national type. As we know, since the times of Peter I censorship was introduced into Ukrainian publications, the aim of which was to narrow the gap and unify them with Great Russian publications. Ukrainian schools are being Russified, and the Great Russian pronunciation is being introduced in the Divine Liturgy. Every manifestation of Ukrainian patriotism is being painstakingly persecuted and repressed.”
According to Zhabotynsky, “When the Ukrainian movement revived in the mid-19th century, the ruling clique launched a fierce struggle against “Ukrainomania” (khokhlomania) and “separatism” (the infamous tsarist circulars). The situation with Ukrainian schools does not even need to be mentioned. So it is no wonder that Kyiv became Russian-speaking — how many conscientious officials have worked there since the 19th century! The same applies to other nations throughout Russia. For example, Polish performances, Polish newspapers, and even Polish leaflets were banned in Lithuania starting in 1863, and Lithuanians were prohibited from publishing anything, including prayer books, in Lithuanian — all thanks to the efforts of the insatiable officials!” As a result, Struve was able to boast about Tiflis (Tbilisi) having become a city of Russian culture. Writing about his respect for and love of Russian culture, Zhabotynsky says nevertheless: “But what is the point of falsifying history and assuring the world that it all happened without the official baton and ‘imperial decrees’?”
It is general knowledge that the best thing about world culture is its diversity. Every historical nation has made its own unique contributions, and this is the main wealth of human civilization. Zhabotynsky cites the example of Norway: “If the small Norwegian nation (two million people at the time) listened to the advice of its own Struve and, instead of making efforts to create its own culture, it had merged with the Germans, the world would not have, for example, ‘God’s bouquet,’ which is called Norwegian literature.”
Concluding his article, Zhabotynsky appeals to Ukraine and Ukrainians: “Do Little Russians consider themselves part of the single Russian nation? Does a Ukrainian believe that Russian literature is also his own literature? Does he believe that Russian grandeur also embraces Ukrainians? This is the crux of the problem — it all depends on what is in the consciousness of the people. This is where one can discover the criterion for distinguishing a national language from dialects or patois. There can be no other criteria because, from a linguistic point of view, no differences between a ‘language’ and a ‘dialect’ may be established. And if the population of Ukraine perceives itself as a separate nation, it will irrepressibly strive to create a new and full-fledged culture in its own language, even if this language differs very little from the language of the (formerly) ruling nation.”
That ruling nation devoured Ukraine in the past-together with its writers, books, printers, actors, singers, scholars, peasants, and soldiers! But even today, in the 21st century, some Russian figures continue to view our country and nation as a temporarily alienated part of the “Great and Indivisible Russia.” When I read “truly patriotic” Russian publications that are published in both Russia and Ukraine, it is difficult to define what most characterizes their content-general ignorance, an incredible lack of historical knowledge, hatred of democracy, or the boorishness of colonizers. Most likely, imperial arrogance and all-permissiveness on a foreign territory top the list. When will these so-called “neighbors” stop resembling the famous Cheshire cat that seems to have disappeared, yet whose grin is still with us?
(The author used excerpts from Israel Kleiner’s book Volodymyr Zhabotynsky and the Ukrainian Question)
