Symbols and Social Reality: The Battle for the Symbolic Identity of Ukraine

Last week was the first of what I hope will be many trips to villages around Cherkasy Oblast, where I am now living and working. I was in Irkliiv with colleagues who were giving a presentation to local farmers. We had just emerged from the darkness of an old auditorium in the village cultural center, and were squinting in the sunlight. A curious monument caught my eye, and as I am wont to do, I strayed from the group to go take pictures.

"That used to be a statue of Lenin, you know."

One of my colleagues came up to join me by the monument. A Ukrainian flag now stands on what was once a pedestal for the first leader of the Soviet Union - one stone Lenin among literally thousands that were dotted around Ukraine in the 20th century to encourage Soviet unity and keep Ukrainian nationalism at bay. Now this same monument, in roughly painted letters, proclaims Ukraine's independence: "Glory to the heroes of Maidan! Unite!"

One of my favorite podcasts recently did a story about "The Falling of the Lenins" in Ukraine, and before you read any further I highly recommend that you give it a listen:
http://99percentinvisible.org/episode/the-falling-of-the-lenins/

......Have you listened yet? Go do it!
..........................................................

Cool. Carrying on.


The battle to establish Ukraine symbolically as well as politically is ever-present, both in the newfound prevalence of Ukrainian national symbols, and in the erasure or repurposing of Soviet ones. The emergence - or reemergence - of sovereign Ukraine is as much a matter of creation as it is a matter of undoing things enacted under the Soviet regime. Even while writing this blog, just now, my coworker told me about the Lenin that is now gone from the main square of Cherkasy.

"Yeah, he used to be right there - come here, you can see from the window. Right in the middle of the square."

We look out the window of our office, toward the Regional Administration Building. There is no trace of Lenin now, but he used to stand, prominently, in front of the administrative center of this Oblast. My coworker found a YouTube video of when the statue was removed (if you want to skip the commentary, jump to about the 2-minute mark):

Today, a vast and smooth square stretches out in front of the Regional Administration Building. No monuments, no flags. Just smooth concrete and stone, and a pair of fountains whose spherical shape softens the otherwise square geometry of the place. I would never have known that the giant stone Lenin was here.

The Lenin statues aren't the only symbolic battleground in Ukraine. Nearly every street in this country has been renamed - often to the confusion of anybody trying to get directions. Many locals still do not know the streets by their new names, and the old street signs are still up, bearing the names of various Generals and Marshals. But at least on Google Maps, these names have been replaced with words like "Independence" and "Comfort."

It is the replacement of symbols, rather than the attempt to destroy them, that is perhaps the most interesting to me. A few months ago, I had the privilege of visiting a museum in Cherkasy with one of the largest collections of traditional Ukrainian pendants and jewelry in the country. Traditionally, in pre-Soviet times, Ukrainian women wore elaborate metal pendants, accompanied with coral necklaces and fine stones. It was a way for a woman to show her worth, and receiving these accessories was for girls an important step into womanhood.


Items & photo from Музей Кобзаря Т. Г. Шевченка

Traditional pendants typically featured Christian symbols - often Jesus or Mary. Pendants were commonly accompanied by elaborate crosses.

But look closely at the next few pendants:

Items from Музей Кобзаря Т. Г. Шевченка

The hammer and sickle.

When Ukraine became part of the USSR, its traditional jewelry was not outlawed, but it was claimed. The USSR literally put their stamp on a Ukrainian tradition, replacing Christian symbols with Communist ones. In some ways this seems to me particularly insidious, more so than if the traditional jewelry just disappeared altogether. But in other ways it simply seems like adaptation. Symbols change. Cultures change. Things combine. And yet - it's like the new regime took a culture and a people and, with a simple change of symbol, said "This is mine." I'm not sure what to think of it.

Eventually, most traditional Ukrainian pendants were seized and destroyed by Soviet authorities anyway. That's why one of the nation's largest collections can fit in the basement of a rather small museum.

So, back to the statues. What will become of the Lenins? What should become of the Lenins? Will they be reclaimed? Destroyed? Put into a museum? It is a point of controversy for many, because symbols are a manifestation of identity, and Ukraine's identity is changing. Although the situation is vastly different, the discourse here reminds me sometimes of what I hear back home regarding the Confederate flag. How do we represent who we are today without forgetting who we once were? How do we commemorate history that not everybody wants to remember? History that was dark for some, and glorious for others? Right now in Ukraine, the mix of symbols shows the complexity of a place in transition.

Coexisting in Chernihiv: This new church, only a few years old;

this Communist monument in the churchyard, from a time when that church could not have been built;

and not far away, the Ukrainian flags that have become ubiquitous since the EuroMaidan. 

To quote Alfred Schutz: "The self-illumination of society through symbols is an integral part of social reality, and one may even say its essential part, for through such symbolization the members of a society experience it as more than an accident or a convenience; they experience it as of their human essence."

Whatever happens to the Lenins and to the other symbolic aspects of Ukraine, it is my hope that people here can claim and reflect their own history and their own identity; that the symbolic expression of Ukraine is not imposed, but collaboratively and lovingly created. It is complicated work, and I am at once fascinated and humbled to be here to witness it.





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