Becoming Ukrainian was as difficult and controversial for Pavlo
Skoropadskyi as it was for the Ukrainian nation
Pavlo
Skoropadskyi, Ukraine’s hetman in 1918 and descendant of an 18th century
Cossack hetman, was a controversial figure in his own lifetime. The historical
debate between supporters and opponents of Skoropadskyi and his policies
continues to this day. He built the Ukrainian state while simultaneously
destroying it through various risky and unreasonable moves.
He supported
the establishment of the agrarian class promoted by historian and politician
Vyacheslav Lypynskyi (the ideologue of Ukrainian conservatism and the founder
of the Ukrainian Democratic-Agrarian Party) but failed to protect it from
inevitable requisitions by Ukraine’s Austro-German allies. Skoropadskyi tried
to preserve social stability in Ukraine, yet the fear of radical land reforms
fuelled tension in rural Ukraine, increasing the impact of Bolshevik “land to
the peasants!” propaganda. Skoropadskyi was a Ukrainian hetman and a Russian
general close to Nicholas II.
He
represented a Ukrainian aristocracy that had long considered itself to be part
of the pan-empire elite. He contributed to the development of a national state
while failing to overcome pro-Russian sentiments, at least during his brief
reign from 1918-1920.
As a
military officer who fought in the Russo-Japanese War and WWI, Skoropadskyi was
eager to address the many issues neglected by the doctrinal and profoundly
demagogic Tsentralna Rada (Central Council). This included the creation of an efficient
Ukrainian army with professional officers—he did not share the pacifism of UNR
(Ukrainian People’s Republic) leaders who often did not think beyond their
desks or home libraries. While the Central Council had long debated the fate of
Crimea, Sevastopol and the Black Sea fleet, Skoropadskyi swiftly declared
Crimea to be part of the Ukrainian State and began negotiations to integrate it
with its local government led by General Suleyman Sulkiewicz. Skoropadskyi
helped transform the Black Sea fleet into a part of Ukraine’s military force.
In doing so, he proved wiser and more efficient than Ukrainian President Leonid
Kravchuk in 1991.
The hetman
realized that the Central Council’s enchanting slogans were not enough to keep
the state running properly. It needed a government, thousands of professional
officials, and dozens of institutions and facilities – so he worked to develop
these. However, he had too few patriotic professional state-builders since the
tsarist administration made sure that such people were kept out of civil
service, and those hired eventually shed any views that might stand in the way
of career success. As a result, Skoropadskyi had to work under a harsh deficit
of managers. “Where are the Ukrainians? Give them to me! The ones I need, the
ones I can talk to and work with. Where are they?” he lamented desperately.
These would
have been people loyal to a patriotic ideology, yet pragmatic enough to
actually do their work, achieve specific objectives, and take charge of their
respective tasks. Unfortunately, most Ukrainians fit a very different profile
at that time: all they could do was lament Ukraine’s misfortune, sing folk
songs and complain about current problems.
It took
Skoropadskyi himself much time and effort to become Ukrainian. Seven and a half
months in power was obviously not enough time given his upbringing in a Russian
aristocratic environment, his life in the tsarist establishment and service in
the emperor’s army. At the time, very few Ukrainians were politically
conscious. In fact, there was not even agreement on what to call Ukrainians—the
term “Ukrainian” had not yet become widespread. Mykhailo Hrushevskyi, Ukrainian
historian, academic and intellectual, shared Skoropadskyi’s illusions of an
autonomous Ukraine within a federative Russia, even though the two belonged to
opposing political enclaves. When, in 1917, a rallying crowd approached the
Central Council building on Volodymyr the Great St. in Kyiv and greeted
Hryshevskyi with “Long live independent Ukraine!”, the national leader replied
with “Long live federative Russia!” Even the Fourth Universal declaring
Ukraine’s complete independence was a move forced by political and military
circumstances: at that time, Hrushevskyi, Vynnychenko and other socialist
leaders still believed that Ukraine could be independent and remain part of the
Russian federation at the same time. Some thought otherwise, but Hrushevshkyi,
Skoropadskyi and others with pro-Russian illusions represented the mainstream
ideology.
Skoropadskyi
was forced to invite Russian and pro-Russian officials to serve administrative
roles in the Ukrainian state – much like the Bolsheviks who appointed former
tsar’s officers as commanders in the Red Army, with a red commissar supervising
each of them. Skoropadskyi did not have pro-Ukrainian professionals to appoint
as such “commissars”. This resulted in the domination of Russian chauvinist
officials in the Ukrainian government and as officers in the hetman’s army.
Skoropadskyi
should have been more cautious with the military. In his eyes, the Russian
commanders in his army were just good professionals and his brothers-in-arms
from WWI. Meanwhile, he turned a blind eye to their powerful anti-Ukrainian
views. This caused animosity among patriotic Ukrainian officers who often faced
chauvinist bullying from their peers. They were not the only ones who were
frustrated. To please his pro-Russian officers, Skoropadskyi issued a decree on
Ukraine’s federation with non-Bolshevik Russia on November 14, 1918. Ukrainian
patriots denounced this as treason.
As a result,
many Ukrainian officers left the hetman’s army for that of the UNR and
contributed to the anti-hetman coup of the UNR Directorate. The idea of a
federation with Russia was a utopian fantasy. Virtually all White Movement
leaders supported the revival of the “single undivided Russia”, i.e. a unitary
centralized state with no flirtation with “nationals”. General Denikin stated
in public that the first man he would hang after the victory over the
Bolsheviks was the “treacherous” Finnish military leader Carl Mannerheim.
Admiral
Kolchak rejected Finland’s independence, while General Nikolai Yudenich whose
army dislocated at the Baltic territory refused to acknowledge independence of
the Estonian Republic despite its significant contribution to his military
accomplishments. Officer Pyotr Vrangel refused to negotiate an alliance with
Poland and the UNR against the Bolsheviks. How could Ukrainian political
leaders have expected to create a federation with unwilling partners? According
to some historians, White general and Ataman of the Don Cossack Host Petro
Krasnov supported the idea, but he was known as a Cossack separatist in the
White Movement, therefore he did not represent overall sentiments.
Some wonder
whether Skoropadskyi could have become a Ukrainian Mannerheim if luck had been
on his side. However, it is hardly possible to compare the two. Mannerheim
belonged to a different political culture based on deep Western traditions
(Russia’s influence on the Finnish mindset was strongly countered by Sweden and
Germany). Unlike many Ukrainian leaders, he had no pro-Russian illusions,
although like Skoropadskyi, he had been a loyal servant of the Russian Empire,
fighting against the Japanese and the army of the German Kaiser. Finland also
had Russian officers in its army in 1918-1920, yet Mannerheim did not agree
with them, especially when it came to matters of principle. Even if not a Finn
ethnically, Mannerheim followed Finland’s national interests in his every move.
When Russian generals who stayed in personal contact with him demanded that the
Finnish army go to Petrograd to help revive the Russian Empire, Mannerheim
found a polite yet harsh way to put them in their place.
Mannerheim
became a Finn faster than Skoropadskyi became a Ukrainian. It took the hetman
many years in exile to finally break his ties with the Russian Empire, but it
finally happened, and in recent years he has assumed his place Ukraine’s
history as a patriot and statesman without geopolitical prejudice. The fact
that in 1944 Skoropadskyi used his many connections to facilitate the release
of Bandera, Mel’nyk and Stets’ko from Nazi concentration camps shows that at
least these people were not entirely alien to him in the ideological sense.
Thus, Skoropadskyi’s path to becoming Ukrainian was as difficult and
controversial as that of the entire Ukrainian nation.
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