The Talk of the Ukraine: Secession From Moscow : Soviet Union: Pro-independence movements are becoming bolder and politicized. Could too much dissent bring in the tanks?
KIEV, U.S.S.R. — At no other time under Soviet domination have the Ukrainian people come so close to political and cultural autonomy. From the heavily Russianized capital of Kiev to the soot-covered streets of the Donbas coal-mining region, disgruntled Ukrainians nervously but steadfastly demand an end to their uneasy relationship with Moscow. Many Western observers believe that the Ukraine will soon become Mikhail S. Gorbachev’s greatest challenge.
As Moscow loosens its grip, signs of defiance become bolder by the day. Last month, large crowds gathered in the center of Lvov to hear three hours of speeches calling for a professional Ukrainian national army and a republic-wide boycott of compulsory military service. Even in the current climate of glasnost, such statements seem incredible.
The path embarked upon by the rapidly growing pro-democracy movement will either lead to a bloody confrontation with Moscow, or a major realignment of the Soviet federation in which the Ukraine regains its status, lost in 1920, as an independent nation.
Ordinary Ukrainians are betting on the latter. Already, the blue and yellow Ukrainian national flag has been hoisted in Lvov and Kiev, and a charismatic former political prisoner, Mikhailo Horyn, is being touted as the future president of a free Ukraine.
“We will be the party of an independent Ukraine,” said Ivan Drach, poet, former political prisoner and chairman of Rukh, the pro-independence Ukranian Popular Movement. “In the present situation, this is the only way to leave the Soviet Union.”
How soon the Ukraine should break with Moscow is a question that may ultimately split the pro-independence alliance. Some, like Rukh founding member Lesia Krepyakevych, believe the “economy and politics are so controlled by Moscow that it’s important to leave right away.”
Events unfolding in the breadbasket of Europe are moving at a breathtaking pace, largely fueled by the dynamic changes in the Baltic republics. The closest thing to free elections that the Ukraine has had since 1917 was held March 4. Voters elected 35 pro-democracy representatives to the Supreme Soviet of the Ukraine--the highest legislative body. At least eight former political prisoners were elected from the western Ukraine--all advocating full secession from the Soviet Union. About 115 reformist candidates are running in the second round today.
Buoyed by the good showing in the first round of elections, Rukh unveiled a plan March 7 to transform itself into the republic’s first full-fledged opposition party. In a declaration signed in Kiev by 15 Rukh leaders, the group, which claims 1 million members and was legally recognized Feb. 9, said the new party will strive for an independent Ukraine.
To be sure, the pro-independence movement sweeping the Baltic republics is moving much slower in the Ukraine. For one thing, Ukrainians find it hard to imagine Kremlin hard-liners allowing their republic to secede. Strategically located and the source of nearly half the Soviet Union’s iron ore, a quarter of its coal and more than 20% of its grain, milk and meat, the Ukraine has been a preoccupation of Soviet leaders ever since Lenin remarked, “For us to lose the Ukraine would be the same as losing our head.”
Another significant but not insurmountable problem for the independence movement is the 11 million Russians living in the Ukraine. Pro-independence leaders have few avenues to preach their secessionist message to them. In the scores of unofficial newspapers springing up, the line being used is that without Moscow, the quality of life will improve dramatically.
Promises of economic reform, no matter how vaguely worded, attract a huge following in a land where such basic goods as soap are almost impossible to find and where some urban areas go without water for two days at a time. “The key to Rukh’s success in winning over widespread support for independence is by promising to bring an end to the economic chaos,” said a senior European diplomat.
In conversations during a three-week trip through the Ukraine, not one person said his or her life has improved in the three years since Gorbachev introduced perestroika . Most say conditions have worsened; faith in the promises of better times has all but evaporated. “At least before perestroika we didn’t know about a better life,” said Natalka, a 23-year-old pharmacy student in Lvov who identified herself as a Ukrainian. “But with all the news coming in from the West, we now realize how far behind we are.”
The problems for the Ukraine’s democratic movement are more than economic, however. One is that 68 years of one-party rule has left the political field empty of experienced activists and technocrats. Rukh leaders are also discovering that among Ukrainians residing in the heavily Russianized eastern parts of the republic, the needed national consciousness is abysmally low. On the streets of Kiev and Donetsk, for example, the chances of hearing Ukrainian are about as slim as hearing it in Moscow. In many towns, commemorations of Ukrainian anniversaries have been replaced by events honoring the Red Army.
The coal-mining region encircling Donetsk in the eastern Ukraine is one of the most volatile. Militant miners, eyelids creased with carbon, recently held mass meetings to demand adequate housing, higher pay and better working conditions. They also complained about lack of soap, lack of food and official graft.
The Donetsk area is the most polluted in the Soviet Union. The air and water are so dirty that members of a visiting U.S. government delegation developed throat problems shortly after arriving in Donetsk. They had to import drinking water from Finland. According to the Ukrainian Ecological Assn., Zelenyi Svit (Green World), 11 of the 65 most polluted cities in the Soviet Union are in the Ukraine. The once-pristine flows of the republic’s two major waterways--the Dnester and Dnipro rivers--are open sewers. And the 1986 Chernobyl nuclear disaster remains very much on the minds of Ukrainians, who are still paying a horrible price. Near Chernobyl, deformed animals are being born; farther away in Kiev, residents are afraid to buy milk and vegetables. A team of French doctors touring Kiev last week said they were shocked at the shabby state of medical facilities for Chernobyl victims.
Amid all this is a lingering fear among Ukrainians that excessive demands for change might compel Moscow to resort to military force to quash dissent. The Ukraine, with a population of 52 million, is considered by the Kremlin to be much more a part of the Soviet heartland than are the Baltic republics.
To date, pro-democracy leaders have played down the military threat, but Western observers predict Moscow could react harshly if pushed too far. “Given the Ukraine’s importance, the use of force by Moscow could be a great temptation,” said a senior Western diplomat.
But the possibility of a sudden crackdown on dissent has done little to inhibit critics. Said one Rukh leader in Lvov, “We’ve already lost everything, so there is nothing else to lose.”
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