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THE CORRESPONDANT
Ukrainians descended on the capital in November to protest
against President Viktor Yanukovych’s decision to reject a
trade deal with the European Union and to forge closer
economic ties with Russia. After deadly clashes between
protesters and police, Yanukovych is now in hiding, Crimea is
holding a disputed referendum today to decide whether to
join the Russian Federation, and a new government is slowly
taking form as Ukraine’s future hangs in the balance.
“The atmosphere has changed fundamentally,” says Bishop
Borys Gudziak, 53, president of the Ukraine Catholic
University and a friend of Marynovych’s, who spent two
weeks praying with protesters behind barricades at the
Maidan. “The country and its people are in a time machine:
an hour is like a week, a week... like a decade.”
For Gudziak and other protesters, the last few months
have been a political and emotional whirlwind as the elation
felt after Yanukovych was ousted in February has since given
way to a deeper sense of unease. Despite strong warnings
from the US and its allies, Russia continues to tighten its grip
over Crimea — home to a majority ethnic Russian population
— and the regional parliament has moved to declare
independence from Ukraine and join the Russian Federation,
pending today’s vote. The US and Kiev have both said that
they will not recognize the results of the referendum,
describing it as illegal.
There’s no denying that Ukraine remains divided. The
country’s eastern region has stronger cultural and historical
ties to Russia, while its western region leans more toward
Europe. Although a sizable number of representatives from
the eastern region did vote to oust Yanukovych, they remain
fairly underrepresented in the government taking form in Kiev.
“It’s a coalition government, but it’s not a coalition of the
entire country,” Gorenburg says. “It’s a coalition that’s
dominated by the pro-western part of the country.”
Kiev resident Maria Oleksevich says there’s a palpable
sense of concern today in the capital, where many activists
fear that further Russian encroachment could reverse the
gains they made following Yanukovych’s departure. “My
friends say: we have kicked Yanukovych out of the country,
so we can expel Russian invaders,” says Oleksevich, 22, who
leads the media department at furniture design firm
ODESD2. “But subconsciously, there is a fear that everything
can happen again. It is very exhausting to live in a constant
state of conflict.”
Oleksevich and her friends played an active role in last
month’s protests, bringing clothes and medicine to the
Maidan and suspending their design projects to follow the
developments (“Who can be interested in a new designer
commode when people die?”). She says things are a lot
calmer in Kiev now, though they’re still not quite normal.
“I have not really left the Maiden. It remains in my heart,
in my thoughts, and in my dreams and nightmares.”
Moscow has gone to great lengths to discredit the
revolution in Ukraine, describing the movement as a coup
staged by fascists and ultranationalists, while insisting that
the Kremlin must protect the ethnic Russians who live
primarily in the southern and eastern regions of Ukraine.
Marynovych acknowledges that there are some ultranationalists
involved in Ukraine’s revolution, but he says their role and
perceived threat have been vastly overblown by state-controlled
Russian media, dismissing Putin’s basis for invading
Crimea to protect Russian interests. His fear is that Russia is
using the same strategy it deployed in 2008, when it
effectively annexed two Georgian territories after invading.
“It’s craziness,” Marynovych says of Putin’s rhetoric. “It’s the
language of Hitler — the language of the middle of the 20th
century, not the 21st century.”
Economic difficulties continue to plague local businesses. The
value of Ukraine’s currency plummeted after unrest broke
out, making it more expensive for Oleksevich’s firm to
purchase materials, though she says they’ve taken a new
sense of pride in making their products in Ukraine, and she
hopes others will follow.
His memories from the Maidan won’t fade away, either,
regardless of what happens after today’s referendum. In
February, Gudziak was in a nearby chapel tent when special
forces opened fire on protesters. He rushed out to the stage
to implore the officers to stop, reading a statement from the
archbishop of his church. When he turned around, he saw
that the chapel was in flames. “I have not really left the
Maidan,” Gudziak says. “It remains in my heart, in my
thoughts, and in my dreams and nightmares.”
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