Airbrushing History in the Ukraine

Drohobycz, or Drogobitsh, is a pretty town in western Ukraine, with a population of ca. 100,000. Until 1772 it was part of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth; then, until 1918, it was part of the Habsburg Empire. Between 1918-39 it was part of newly independent Poland; in 1939, and again in 1945, it was annexed to the Soviet Union. After the dissolution of the USSR in 1990 it became part of independent Ukraine. At the turn of the nineteenth century, the city was the center of the Galician oil industry, and many stately mansions still adorn its quiet streets and leafy avenues, a testimony to the richness and culture of the period of the oil boom.

Before World War II the population of Drohobycz was mostly Polish and Jewish, with the Ukrainian (or Ruthenian, as it was then called) population less than 20 percent. Today its population is almost totally Ukrainian.

Ivan Franko, one of the intellectual founders of Ukrainian nationalism, came from Drohobycz. Here one of Poland's most famous inter-war writers and artists, Bruno Schulz, was born, lived and was eventually murdered by the Nazis with the rest of the city's Jewish population.

It is a complex, yet basically typical history in this area of Eastern Europe, where nationalities and religions overlap. As in other cities in the region, Roman Catholic churches adorn the city, as do Greek-Catholic Uniate churches, and a beautiful Russian Orthodox wooden church.

How much of this will the few tourists, who come here, learn from the official municipal brochure or the town's museum? Not much. The brochure does mention that the town was received its charter under the Magdeburg laws - but does not mention that the privilege was granted to the town by Polish King Casimir the Great. Moreover: the reader of the brochure will not know that for most of its history the city was part of Poland. Nor will he learn that until 1939 the majority of its population was Jewish and Polish.

The same applies to the municipal museum: it has fierce portraits of Cossack - i.e. Ukrainian - hetmans, most of whom never set foot in Drohobycz or ruled over it (with the exception of Bogdan Chmielnicki, whose troops captured the city in the great Cossack anti-Polish insurrection of 1648, and massacred most of its Jewish and Polish population). There are no portraits of Polish kings who ruled the area for at least four centuries, nor will the visitor ever learn about the Polish or Jewish demographic presence in the town. Ivan Franko is - justifiably - featured prominently in the museum; less pleasant is the hero worship accorded in the museum's exhibits to Ukrainian nationalists who collaborated with the Germans during World War II. It was out of their militias that the auxiliary police were recruited which helped in the murder of the Jewish population; this fact is, of course, not mentioned. There is, though, a small plaque on Bruno Schulz's house.

The magnificent castle-like Roman Catholic Church is closed, and the ruin of the imposing Jewish nineteenth century synagogue does not even have a plaque telling passersby what it once was.

Drohobycz could become a magnet for anyone who would like to study - and experience - the special atmosphere of these unique regions of Europe. But what one is offered is an intellectual ethnic cleansing, where everything which is not Ukrainian is totally excised from memory and presence.

One can well understand that a new nation-state like Ukraine would be zealous in establishing its identity and claim historical continuity even in areas which, because of their mixed heritage, have been disputed. This is natural: other nations - today much more established - have done the same: who remembers that Nizza was once a Savoyard, i.e. "Italian" town? Yet the historical one-sidedness and falsification so rampant in Drohobycz - as well as in other areas in western Ukraine - carries with it too many under-currents of the old Bolshevik 1984-like falsifications of history: communism is gone, but the combination of ethno-centric nationalism and Bolshevik ruthlessness remains. One can imagine what is being taught in schools in Drohobycz - and all over Ukraine.

Ukraine views itself as a European country, and wishes to join the European Union. In due time it will, and should - both for the sake of European stability as well as for the sake of its population's future. But beyond the economic and political Copenhagen criteria - which it will take Ukraine some time to fulfill - Ukraine has a long way to go in facing its multi-layered history. All history, especially in contested areas, is complex and not always pleasant: ethnic, religious and social differences have caused strife - but also periods of co-existence and mutual cross-cultural enrichment. One has to look this historical heritage in the face, because only if one lives in peace with history, can one freely face the future. The post-World War II Germany has invested decades of educational work in doing it; as the Jedwabne affair has shown, Poland is beginning to come to grips in a more truthful way with its own historical narrative. It is the friends of Ukraine who should urge it to do the same for the sake of its own future.