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The Register-Guard, Oregon
May 15 2005
Ukraine in a struggle between east and west
By Kevin Capé
ODESSA, Ukraine - This country, Europe's largest apart from Russia,
seems about midway between the industrial West and the Third World.
Odessa's town center, with its panoply of 19th century architecture,
delights the eye with its pastel colors and its liveliness.
Yet there are the beggars who have been left behind by the new
capitalist economy, usually older people with their outstretched
hands, mumbling blessings for those who put a few coins into their
plastic cups.
In this month, with its Soviet anniversaries of May Day and the end
of World War II, there is much debate between those who favor closer
relations with the West and others who prefer to follow Moscow's
lead. This comes after the April visit of President Victor Yushchenko
to the United States, where his "Orange Revolution" was widely
applauded. But it is worth remembering that about 40 percent of
Ukrainians are not Yushchenko supporters.
Indeed, in this port, the "Pearl of the Black Sea," most people speak
Russian, not Ukrainian, as their first language, and the place is
redolent with the memories of everyone from Catherine the Great (who
founded the city) to the great writer Alexander Pushkin, to
Catherine's lover Potemkin, for whom Odessa's majestic stairway to
the port is named.
Like many countries of the ex-Soviet bloc, Ukraine does not have a
monolithic identity. In the west, where some of its territory was
once Poland, it feels Western and is mostly Catholic.
Here in the east, where the nearby Crimea was given to Ukraine as a
capricious gift of Nikita Khrushchev, people look mostly to Moscow
for cultural and political identity. One frequently hears the phrase,
"Never mind what the Western press says. We are really Russian."
At one of Odessa's many Orthodox churches, I cheerfully greet a
female caretaker, asking if there is an admission charge, as I would
like to see the church's icons.
"No, there is no charge," she snaps in almost comically Soviet style,
"But you can buy some candles. For people like you, the cost amounts
to nothing." Complimenting her on the precision of her English, I buy
a raft of mostly defective candles. My profuse thanks elicit only the
slightest glimmer of a smile.
At the very Soviet-style monument to the unknown sailor, the
atmosphere is paradoxically more cheerful, perhaps because it is
manned by teenagers from the local naval academies. There is also the
zany touch of Hare Krishna devotees chanting away in the distance.
Two boys with guns stand next to the red granite obelisk, while two
unarmed girls periodically do a very competent goose-step around the
square, swinging their arms theatrically. People leave red flowers at
black marble slabs with the names of the scenes of World War II
carnage: Kiev, Kursk, Smolensk, Minsk, Sebastopol.
A few hundred yards away in this park by the sea is a monument to the
200-odd sons of Odessa who lost their lives in a less glorious cause,
the Afghanistan war. This sculpture seems particularly fitting: An
exhausted-looking soldier seated - and the dates 1979-1989, with the
seven tumbling against the nine, its neglect suggesting that this is
a war everyone would prefer to forget.
Ambiguity in relations with Russia is everywhere in the eastern
Ukraine. One item of local gossip is the story of a Russian bank
having bought a Ukrainian coastal dacha once frequented by Leonid
Brezhnev for the use of Vladimir Putin. Like so many acquisitions in
today's Russia and the Ukraine, the conditions of sale were decidedly
shady, and Yushchenko's government says it is investigating.
As one Odessa resident told me, "Of course, they will find fraud. ...
The new government here is just trying to embarrass Russia, so as to
separate our two countries."
Yet 100 miles north of Odessa, in the seemingly interminable steppes
of fertile black soil, the attitude toward Russia is different. Here
the popular memory still is haunted by the terrible collectivization
campaigns of the 1930s, in which some 5 million people are said to
have died.
"They're always talking about the Holocaust of World War II against
the Jews. Even the Armenians get their share of attention. But who
remembers the millions of Ukrainians starved to death by Stalin?" one
farmer asks, and then recites a roll call of his relatives who died.
So where does Ukraine belong? Many in Washington apparently believe
that it belongs in NATO, though that is not a popular idea here. One
man comments, "We Ukrainians are complicated and divided, so we
should avoid new controversies while we find a common way forward."
Eugene native Kevin Capé is a writer and teacher living in Paris.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress
May 15 2005
Ukraine in a struggle between east and west
By Kevin Capé
ODESSA, Ukraine - This country, Europe's largest apart from Russia,
seems about midway between the industrial West and the Third World.
Odessa's town center, with its panoply of 19th century architecture,
delights the eye with its pastel colors and its liveliness.
Yet there are the beggars who have been left behind by the new
capitalist economy, usually older people with their outstretched
hands, mumbling blessings for those who put a few coins into their
plastic cups.
In this month, with its Soviet anniversaries of May Day and the end
of World War II, there is much debate between those who favor closer
relations with the West and others who prefer to follow Moscow's
lead. This comes after the April visit of President Victor Yushchenko
to the United States, where his "Orange Revolution" was widely
applauded. But it is worth remembering that about 40 percent of
Ukrainians are not Yushchenko supporters.
Indeed, in this port, the "Pearl of the Black Sea," most people speak
Russian, not Ukrainian, as their first language, and the place is
redolent with the memories of everyone from Catherine the Great (who
founded the city) to the great writer Alexander Pushkin, to
Catherine's lover Potemkin, for whom Odessa's majestic stairway to
the port is named.
Like many countries of the ex-Soviet bloc, Ukraine does not have a
monolithic identity. In the west, where some of its territory was
once Poland, it feels Western and is mostly Catholic.
Here in the east, where the nearby Crimea was given to Ukraine as a
capricious gift of Nikita Khrushchev, people look mostly to Moscow
for cultural and political identity. One frequently hears the phrase,
"Never mind what the Western press says. We are really Russian."
At one of Odessa's many Orthodox churches, I cheerfully greet a
female caretaker, asking if there is an admission charge, as I would
like to see the church's icons.
"No, there is no charge," she snaps in almost comically Soviet style,
"But you can buy some candles. For people like you, the cost amounts
to nothing." Complimenting her on the precision of her English, I buy
a raft of mostly defective candles. My profuse thanks elicit only the
slightest glimmer of a smile.
At the very Soviet-style monument to the unknown sailor, the
atmosphere is paradoxically more cheerful, perhaps because it is
manned by teenagers from the local naval academies. There is also the
zany touch of Hare Krishna devotees chanting away in the distance.
Two boys with guns stand next to the red granite obelisk, while two
unarmed girls periodically do a very competent goose-step around the
square, swinging their arms theatrically. People leave red flowers at
black marble slabs with the names of the scenes of World War II
carnage: Kiev, Kursk, Smolensk, Minsk, Sebastopol.
A few hundred yards away in this park by the sea is a monument to the
200-odd sons of Odessa who lost their lives in a less glorious cause,
the Afghanistan war. This sculpture seems particularly fitting: An
exhausted-looking soldier seated - and the dates 1979-1989, with the
seven tumbling against the nine, its neglect suggesting that this is
a war everyone would prefer to forget.
Ambiguity in relations with Russia is everywhere in the eastern
Ukraine. One item of local gossip is the story of a Russian bank
having bought a Ukrainian coastal dacha once frequented by Leonid
Brezhnev for the use of Vladimir Putin. Like so many acquisitions in
today's Russia and the Ukraine, the conditions of sale were decidedly
shady, and Yushchenko's government says it is investigating.
As one Odessa resident told me, "Of course, they will find fraud. ...
The new government here is just trying to embarrass Russia, so as to
separate our two countries."
Yet 100 miles north of Odessa, in the seemingly interminable steppes
of fertile black soil, the attitude toward Russia is different. Here
the popular memory still is haunted by the terrible collectivization
campaigns of the 1930s, in which some 5 million people are said to
have died.
"They're always talking about the Holocaust of World War II against
the Jews. Even the Armenians get their share of attention. But who
remembers the millions of Ukrainians starved to death by Stalin?" one
farmer asks, and then recites a roll call of his relatives who died.
So where does Ukraine belong? Many in Washington apparently believe
that it belongs in NATO, though that is not a popular idea here. One
man comments, "We Ukrainians are complicated and divided, so we
should avoid new controversies while we find a common way forward."
Eugene native Kevin Capé is a writer and teacher living in Paris.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress