Ukrainian literati, German businessmen, and diplomats gathered at the Goethe Institute’s library recently to sum up the contest called Germany-Ukraine: What Happened in the Past? What Is Happening Now? What Will Happen? The competition had been announced eight months ago, and a previous jury had eliminated the weaker entries, leaving fifteen to twenty for the finals. There were three nominations: separate literary contests in Ukrainian and German along with a photo contest.
The Ukrainian works called forth the most heated hottest jury debate. Yury Andrukhovych (who was unable to attend and mailed his findings concerning 6 of 17 works submitted), Oksana Zabuzhko (who nominated three works and used them to write excellent mini-essays), German historian Wilfrid Jilge (who contributed a detailed commentary on every work), and The Day each nominated three works. It turned out that only one name was repeated on the lists by two experts, albeit placed differently. Then the jury proceeded to toil to reach consensus; each of the nominated works was considered in terms of literary merits, a new view on history, trying to single out anything innovative. The reader will learn about the winner in this and the other two nominations after the ceremony scheduled for October 3 marking The Day of German Unification.
Oksana ZABUZHKO says the contest revealed an acute problem: just how well our citizens can use the freedom of expression: “I think the point is not whether a given work is in Russian or Ukrainian (I suppose we would have as much by way of awkward wording and abundant clich О s if the contest were in Russian),” she points out. “The point is the inertia of totalitarian literary upbringing and Soviet school traditions. We were taught the only correct manner in which to write a composition. When people crippled by our school take up the pen the result is that in a literary contest 15 out of 17 works show that the very first sentence hits a false note in intonation, an obvious borrowing from a copybook. It’s a problem of how we were and continue to be taught. As for the language of the compositions, let’s not overstate the dominance of the Russian language. Of the 17 works that made it to the finals only a couple proved so awkwardly worded as to assume that their authors are genetically Russian-speaking. Considering the personalities of the authors, more or less revealed in the works submitted to the contest, our younger generation is bilingual.”
A somewhat standardized approach to a given topic was also noted by the jury’s Prof. Kira SHAKHOVA, teacher of foreign literature, Taras Shevchenko National State University, who dealt with the compositions in German: “We proceeded from the concept that only works containing original elements were worth being assessed. Quite a few of the German compositions submitted showed good grammar and were by and large eligible, yet all were like editorials. You read a work like that and instantly forget all about it. The three we selected are not historical or political, they’re very personal. Each is a story reflecting stages in the relationships between our countries; they are typical and at the same time original. Interestingly, the assessments of all members of the jury turned out in agreement, even though we represent different professions and views.”
Johannes EBERT, director of Goethe Institute, believes that the contest (the first of its kind held in Ukraine) proved a success and demonstrated good results — not only for the prize-winners (to be paid DM 500; 300, and 200, respectively), but also for society as a whole. The organizers did not intend to encourage a separate group of experts to voice their views: “We did not ask journalists, intellectuals, literati, but we tried to hear what Ukraine has to say about Ukrainian-German relationships,” he says. “Naturally, professionals could also take part in the contest, for it was intended to be an open one. All the works were assessed anonymously; literally every work was allocated a number and retyped, so the handwriting could not in any way influence the jury. The topic touched the innermost recesses of some 250 Ukrainians; they were not asked to automatically fill in a questionnaire; they had to work creatively. Among the contenders were different age groups, ranging from a 16-year-old girl, a school student, to an 80-year-old man who sent a handwritten manuscript; among them were a student and a film director. Works were submitted from the remotest parts of Ukraine, but that was precisely our purpose.
“As for the jury, they had to consider 15-20 works that made it to the finals. We specially included a Ukrainian in the jury team dealing with compositions in German, and vice versa, because this would produce a totally different view. The second principle aspect was that the jury members represented different professions, meaning that they could approach the works from different angles: writers, journalists, a German businessman, noted literary and art critics, and a female German diplomat. I think this was important.
“We’re planning to sum up the contest in a booklet containing the best works. Almost every composition submitted (I have so far familiarized myself only with the works in German) proved to contain interesting ideas. On the other hand, I must point out that some works are a bit standardized, and even if they have interesting ideas, they are incomplete.”
The Day: Apart from generally organizing the contest, you judged the photo contest. What do you think of it?
J. E.: We chose a different topic for the photo contest, which, compared to that of the literary contest, broached the subject of Ukrainian- German relations in another manner. One should remember that the starting point for the current contest is our last year’s photo exhibit featuring pictures of the same German families, dating from 1989 (when Germany was united) and 1999, ten years later. We wanted to have a similar retrospective view of Ukraine during its decade of independence. So we chose the topic, Change of Epochs — Change of Images. A lot of works were submitted and I think they are all interesting, including photomontages with scenes from the “old” and “new” life of Ukraine, like cityscapes with old buildings replaced by new ones. There were many combinations of advertising leaflets and classic memorials of the socialist period.
The Day: Is there anything new this contest demonstrated in terms of Ukrainian-German relations at the personal level?
J. E.: I found it significant to note that people in Ukraine know so much about Germany and are interested in fresh information. There were stereotypes, of course, ideas that probably lacked something. After finally sorting out the works (what we are going to do working on the booklet), it will be possible to figure out better ways to supply more information about Germany. And this is important for the Goethe Institute. In addition, this project will make it possible to understand what aspects in our relationships are clear.
The Day: Are there any shortcomings in these relationships that were revealed by the contest?
J. E.: I think that there is a problem. Ukraine is not properly appreciated in the West. This crucial aspect was noticeable in some of the compositions. As for the personal aspects reflected in the compositions, they often demonstrate the curious intercultural misunderstandings found in the relations between any nations. I think it’s only natural, and that’s what makes one so interested to know what exactly is happening between our countries.”
Less than a month remains before the winners are formally announced. Meanwhile, Goethe people are transcribing the works submitted to the contest, preparing them for publication. The booklet is expected to come off the presses toward the end of the year, so not only the contestants, but also other people will be able to read it.
