What’s going on with the Ukrainian pantheon of heroes?10 min read
Vladyslav Starodubtsev explores canon-making in modern Ukrainian politics and the balance between an open, democratic memory and methodichka-style politicisation of memory.
What is the new pantheon of Ukrainian heroes?
Recently, the Ukrainian government announced plans to organize a “pantheon of Ukrainian heroes” – a burial site for those whom it has decided played a prominent role in the country’s history. The stated aim of this project is to offer a more unified image of Ukrainian history, narrative, and memory. After the pantheon was announced, its advocates spoke about how it will foster inclusivity and representation for the Ukrainian people. However, this announcement was unexpected and without public demand. Furthermore, it seemed to be directly initiated and promoted by Kyrylo Budanov, who just recently replaced the scandal-plagued Andriy Yermak as the head of the Office of the President. Additionally, the initiative was strongly supported by the Ukrainian Institute of National Memory (UINP), which a year ago chose a hard far-right figure as its head.
Public discussion was largely replaced by a media campaign involving selected influencers and popular-history authors. This method was a managed consensus-creation, generated by media saturation. It replaced public discussion and created an ideological hegemony.
Abroad, the cemeteries of Ukraine’s heroes, and even its controversial figures, create an intimate connection to Ukrainian culture and memory. These are gathering places for families in the diaspora, and a refuge of Ukrainian culture abroad. They are something that hold a lot of value for the diaspora and even refugee communities – ritual places that are a reminder of both tragic and heroic events in the country’s history. They provide a connection between mainland Ukraine and those who find themselves abroad.
The reburials are breaking that connection. A single, big cemetery of heroes centralizes memory, and destroys its sacred meaning. The lack of historic significance of the reburial, the theatric process of forming this pantheon, and its appearance as a government policy being forced from above, give the impression of a state-sponsored propaganda initiative rather than the initiative of the whole of Ukrainian society. At the same time, creating the pantheon in Kyiv creates regional distrust and unnecessary centralization by prioritizing the capital over the country’s other Oblasts.
The start of the pantheon
The first reburial for the Pantheon was the controversial figure Andriy Melnyk – a veteran of the Ukrainian struggle for independence in 1917, a conservative nationalist, and by some accounts a personally “decent fellow”. He also was the head of the Organization of Ukrainian Nationalist (Melnyk faction) – OUN(m) for short.
The OUN(m) was an organization of right-wing nationalists and was one of the factions created by the split of the OUN. While the faction under Stepan Bandera (OUN(b)) harbored more radical individuals, the Melnykites were more moderate and were more open to compromise with other forces. During the German invasion in Poland, and later against the USSR, the OUN(m) took an active role in collaborating with the Third Reich. In 1942 an informal divide struck through the organization, where the majority of its members voted for armed resistance against the Nazis.
A minority faction of the OUN(m) decided to follow a strategy of appeasement and tried to legalize itself under the conditions of German occupation and build state institutions to establish a Ukrainian state. This faction was shaped by an authoritarian ideology and appeased the German occupational regime. For instance, they utilized antisemitic rhetoric to appease their occupiers. This strategy led this organization to participate in the Reich’s criminal and genocidal policies and also ended disastrously for many OUN(m) members who, due to their open actions, were visible for the Third Reich and easy to repress and kill.
Knowing all of that, the question is raised: why start the pantheon with Andriy Melnyk, a collaborator with the Third Reich, who led his organization to a certain demise and participation in Nazi crimes?
Figures of the Pantheon and their (un)representativeness
Andriy Melnyk is not widely known in Ukraine. Most Ukrainians have no idea who he is, or know him only as a collaborator with the Third Reich. This signals that the goal of the pantheon is not national unity, but rather the building of a historic narrative and canon that suits the current government and the new radical leadership of the UINP. The next announced figures include Stepan Bandera, a hard-right leader, who was committed to totalitarian ideology; Hetman Pavlo Skoropadskyi, a pro-Russian autocrat, who led the coup against the Ukrainian Republican Government; and, seemingly to counter potential claims of bias, Symon Petlyura, one of the most influential figures from Ukraine’s left-wing Republican camp.
At the same time, these necropolitics that were promoted as a unity initiative, originated from a misogynistic scandal. Before his final resting place in the Pantheon, Andriy Melnyk was reburied in a temporary burial place, itself a highly questionable practice, along with his family. However, since his wife was not deemed a ‘hero’ by the planners of the Pantheon, the plaque associated with her grave was noticeably smaller when compared to her husband’s. This seemingly diminished her stature and was seen by many as humiliating and harboring a sexist bias.
So what is the result? A pantheon meant to unite Ukrainians began with an extremely controversial figure strongly involved in Nazi collaboration, and continued the long-held practice of excluding women and diminishing the role of families. It further continued with the announcement of other potential pantheon figures, the majority of whom were enemies of democratic governance and supported authoritarian regimes, monarchical autocracies, or one-party states.
The reburial destroys local cultures and places of memory, severs the link between Ukraine and its diaspora, and creates a space that, by its nature, is desacralized and centralized. This is exacerbated by the process of using “temporary” burial places before the final reburial within the pantheon.
Why is all of it problematic?
The pantheon was formed by the government completely above society. There was no popular discussion or deliberation of all related controversies, no honest review of what constitutes a ‘heroic figure,’ which itself created much confusion. In fact, the discussion was shut down by the actions of influencers loyal to the administration, who promoted only one view, and silenced any criticism and nuanced discussion.
The pantheon turns the complex story of Ukraine’s history into a canon of the chosen ones, where the government decides which heroes are right and wrong. Anton Lyagusha, an expert in public history and historical narratology, formulates it as the risk of a “closed list of the right people” without room for complexity, trauma and conflicts of memory. He suggests not thinking about a “list of heroes”, but rather about a space for dialogue and rethinking. RFE/RL further expands on this idea by outlining the position that the transfer of burials from abroad can destroy already formed Ukrainian memorial spaces outside of the country.
The Ukrainian media outlet Svidomi mentions that the Ministry of Culture did not support the reburial of Skoropadskyi, Petliura, Bandera, nor the leaders of Kholodny Yar and the UPA in this format. It believes that the Pantheon should not glorify specific people, but rather virtues such as freedom, dignity, and sacrifice. There is also an academic and activist critique of the wider politics of memory in Ukraine. By creating a “new pantheon of national heroes,” the government selectively chooses various memories for political gain and promotes images that do not threaten the country’s entrenched oligarchy.
The Pantheon also satisfies anti-democratic radicals, a process that is controversial and has already caused approaching history as a space for various “memory wars”. This can be seen in the statements that Ukrainians respect the UPA for their anti-Russian activities, and the administration putting the pantheon at the center of the recent Ukrainian-Polish geopolitical and memory conflicts.
In a study on the memorialization of Bandera, Alexander Liebich writes that the memorialization campaign can be understood performatively. By portraying Bandera as a hero of Ukraine, he is legitimized by the government, and is “made” a hero of Ukraine. Here again is an example of “memory creation,” rather than “memory preservation” created organically by society or through government-initiated, inclusive, and nuanced discussions.
The creation of the Pantheon does not simply “fix in place already existing heroes”, but produces state legitimacy for a new canon and interpretation of ‘heroes’. Therefore, the struggle is not only about the reburials of historical figures; nor is it only about something with just local meaning; but it is also an ideological battle about the state’s right to canonize controversial figures, and create a hierarchy of memory and heroes.
Space and consent for the pantheon
The limits of establishing a centralized burial ground have already been seen in the country. In Ternopil, there was a burial for the heroes of the Ukrainian-Russian war. The state insisted on a unified cemetery, however two families battled the state in court for the right to have unique plaques and gravestones. Government policies should not aesthetically and ritualistically absorb private grief. It is important to say, the dead belong first to their loved ones and families, then to history, and only lastly to the state. It highlights strong problems with the current government’s approach at a local level.
The problems faced by another cemetery, the National Military Memorial in the Markhaliv Forest, shows that such pantheons face not only political and ideological criticism, but also create ecological problems. By their nature, they need to be located at a “prestigious place,” which is likely already a valuable environmental space that would need to be destroyed or transformed. These spaces would thus lose their previous attraction and create a completely different space. Such a process also could face procedural backlash. With the example of the National Military Memorial, the Supreme Court confirmed the decision on the illegality of land acquisition for the memorial complex.
The exclusion of the population at large in regards to the proposed pantheon generated a divide, feeling of helplessness, and sense of ostracism amongst the Ukrainian people. Specifically, a divide formed between those for whom the pantheon, despite the aforementioned problems, generated pride and a sense of being heard, and those that felt excluded by its creation. As a result, it is important not to place criticism on those who feel positively about the reburials, but rather to include their feelings in the discussion, and not leave anyone behind.
Conclusion
A democratic memory would not begin with the forced canonization of controversial figures. It would begin with open criteria and include the voices of relatives, diaspora communities, historians, minorities, women, and families. These groups should all be properly respected and noted, rather than be treated as some secondary afterthought. Furthermore, thought must be given to highlighting the uniqueness of Ukraine’s regions and oblasts when discussing the burials of historic figures. It is important not to center only on the capital, Kyiv.
The pantheon, as it is now being formed, is a harmful decision enforced from above. It works as a Soviet methodichka and not as a proper discussion that benefits the people and respects our memory and culture. At the same time, we should include everyone in the discussion. Supporters of the Pantheon and of Melnyk should be included, and argued with. For an open memory to succeed, it must include considered and inclusive discussion and oppose the helplessness caused by enforced and rushed decisions.
