A history of resolve
The idea of Ukraine will persist for its people even if the West abandons them
Taras Kuz, director of the Museum of the Liberation Struggle of Ukraine in Lviv, stands before a map of Ukraine that shows pockets of anti-Soviet resistance during the 20th century. (c. Martin Kuz)
You probably know that President Joe Biden signed a bill earlier this week that will provide $61 billion in military aid to Ukraine. In the next 48 hours, he approved sending $7 billion of that assistance in the form of air defense missiles, artillery shells, small arms ammunition, armored vehicles and other weapons and equipment. The quick action is heartening given that Ukraine’s front line troops needed all of that materiel and more months ago. Years ago, really.
The bill’s passage — after its tortuous journey through the MAGA minefield in Congress — brought an excess of analysis about its potential impact. The chin-tugging fell into four general categories: Ukraine still can’t win; it can’t win but it can “avoid defeat”; wait, no – it can win; and, regardless, it should treat the funding as the final infusion of U.S. aid owing to the volatile state of our politics.
The reactions and predictions seemed little different from what follows NBA playoff games this time of year. Which is to say, the coverage was utterly American, as if Vegas might set odds on who will prevail and the over/under on total casualties. The articles created a cumulative sense that the war should stick to a timeline, preferably wrapping up by year’s end to allow the West — so terribly exhausted by its long-distance concern for another democratic nation — to recover from its compassion fatigue.
The speculation reminded me of a meeting I had in Lviv some months ago with Taras Kuz, director of the Museum of the Liberation Struggle of Ukraine. (We’re not related.) The space’s collection — archival documents, photos and maps, along with vintage uniforms and weapons — chronicles the country’s fight to wrench free from Russia in the 20th century.
In the first years after World War II, the Soviet Union’s ruler, Josef Stalin, sought to crush what remained of the Ukrainian independence movement, killing and exiling more than a half million people. (This was after he had killed and exiled millions of Ukrainians before and during the war and conscripted millions more into the Red Army.) Over the ensuing decades, the “evil empire,” as Ronald Reagan dubbed the Soviet regime, appeared invincible from afar and from within.
Still, in the shadow of that cruel omnipotence, the Ukrainian resistance — whose ranks included the Sixtiers, the Helsinki Group and other organizations — continued to defy Moscow and agitate for the country’s sovereignty. Their brave efforts exemplified a devotion to the ideal of a free Ukraine that they refused to relinquish even under threat of imprisonment and death.
“There weren’t a lot of people in the movement by the early 1980s — maybe three thousand total,” Taras told me as we walked through the closed museum. Ukraine’s population was 50 million in 1983, when Reagan referred to the evil empire. “It was very dangerous. Many of them were jailed or forced out of the country. Some of them were executed.”
The resistance regained velocity within a few years under the last Soviet leader, Mikhail Gorbachev, whose policy of political openness (glasnost) and attempts at economic reform (perestroika) triggered the empire’s inadvertent implosion in 1991. The Museum of the Liberation Struggle of Ukraine opened two decades later, only to shut its doors after Russian dictator Vladimir Putin launched his full-scale invasion in 2022.
The last room — dedicated to dissidents of the latter half of the 20th century — has gained deeper resonance as Moscow once more attempts to enslave Ukraine and purge its people, culture and national identity. The scholars, artists, authors and politicians who powered the anti-Soviet underground recognized that toppling the Kremlin represented a perilous, almost impossible dream.
“But they were willing to risk their lives because they believed in the idea of Ukraine,” Taras said. “They held on to this idea and kept it from dying.”
The long wait for the blue and yellow flag to fly again above their native land offers a lesson about resolve — about thinking beyond the next year, the next funding package. If U.S. politicians withhold support after 2024, the country’s future will darken. Yet the idea of Ukraine will continue to burn bright for its people, whose history of persistence sustained their belief after WWII, the last time the West abandoned them.
As I prepared to part ways with Taras, he assured me that the museum would reopen after the war. “We will have new exhibits showing a new resistance to Russia,” he said. “Our struggle goes on.”
Etc.
— The Washington Post published a helpful map showing which Republican members of the House and Senate voted against funding for Ukraine — even though the money will benefit their districts and states by providing military manufacturing work. (If you have trouble with the link, try opening it in a private or incognito window on your browser.)
— World Central Kitchen and its founder, José Andrés, held a memorial this week to honor seven WCK workers killed in Gaza by the Israeli military on April 1. I recently wrote about the group’s heroic efforts to feed Ukrainians.
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Fascists these days can rely on the world population's short attention span, which they have both helped create, and can count on to allow them to continue their atrocities against innocents.