The Ripening of the Orange Revolution
In the public consciousness the events of the unfinished anti-communist revolution of 1989-1991 had become a thing of the past. Indeed, most people didn’t even view it as an anti-communist revolution, i.e., a withdrawal from the communist civilization, which is starkly different from a normal society. Moreover, there was no understanding that any anti-communist revolution is by definition incomplete, inasmuch as the regeneration of political, social, and economic structures of a democratic society becomes possible only in the wake of such a revolution.
Under normal conditions, a popularly elected party is the key element in the “head of state — parliament — party” triangle. A party is the most dynamic structure in a democratic society. As an alliance of like-minded individuals, a party proposes an action plan that can coordinate the interests of different social groups and bring them as close as possible to the parameters of national interests. If society places trust in its representatives in parliamentary elections, this party becomes a party of government and continues in this capacity as long as it can keep voters happy.
Ukrainian society is not accustomed to the phenomenon known as “a party of government.” Three generations of Ukrainians had only known “the state party,” even though this term has as much right to exist as the oxymoron “hot ice.” After all, the word party comes from Latin and means a part of the whole. In effect, the totalitarian Communist Party of the Soviet Union (CPSU) was not a part of the whole, but the whole itself. It privatized the state and established control over society. Splinters of the CPSU in the guise of leftist parties had secured the support of one- quarter of the Ukrainian electorate. The communists were steering the people into the past, away from the future, which Ukraine associated with Europe. To the extent that the efforts of leftist parties boiled down to restoring a system that had no right to be restored for objective reasons, these efforts could be only considered destructive.
The negative experience of life under a state party has left most of the population, particularly in Ukraine’s east and south, with a lasting dislike for parties in general. After 1991 only parties on the right spectrum developed in a more or less satisfactory manner, as they drew most of their support from the western and central oblasts. Leftists in the European sense of this word and centrist parties did not emerge in Ukraine at all. However, the mid-1990s saw the emergence of clan parties, which resembled real parties in all respects. Unlike West European associations of like-minded politicians, which evolved from grassroots cells into nationwide organizations, clan parties were structures created by the central leadership with oligarchs’ money and under the guise of social-democratic ideals or some other label that was guaranteed to attract voters. Membership in such parties could reach the hundreds of thousands, but they remained artificial creations designed as a launch pad for future parliamentary members or a tool for forming parliamentary factions with the aim of advancing their own candidate for president. They pursued the interests of sponsors, not those of voters.
Let us move on to another angle of the political triangle. In the presence of strong parties, parliament becomes a mouthpiece through which parties speak to the executive on behalf of voters. However, the remnants of the CPSU and newborn rightist parties balanced out each other, while society remained voiceless, much like it was under Soviet rule. In this situation parliament hung in midair, unable to check and balance the executive. The people’s deputies — 450 of them — represented an equal number of divergent wills, which in the absence of clear political structures were in most cases aimed in the direction of personal interests. During Leonid Kravchuk’s tenure, parliament struck observers as extremely chaotic. During the first term of Leonid Kuchma, parliament became his accomplice in building a clannish blackmail state. Kuchma corralled lawmakers one at a time or in groups by means of primitive but effective methods of blackmail and graft.
If one were to analyze the evolution of the post-communist political system using the language of geometry, Kuchma’s first term in office could be described as an isosceles triangle. Always aiming to solidify his grip on power, Leonid Kuchma filled the presidential post, which was alien to the Soviet political system, with real substance. This ensured the inevitability of a bloodless (unlike in Russia) transition of post-communist Ukraine to democratic evolution. The fact that Ukraine’s civil society institutions developed much slower than the clans was due to several objective factors. Aside from being a post-communist society with completely destroyed horizontal ties among people, Ukrainian society was also post-genocidal, as the late Dr. James Mace was correct in pointing out.
After his reelection Leonid Kuchma intended to continue tightening his grip on power by combining pressure on individual lawmakers with attempts to subordinate parliament as a political institution to himself, as the head of state. All 6 questions in the 2000 nationwide referendum were designed to limit parliament’s functions and rights. Lawmakers publicly expressed their outrage over questions 1 and 6 — a vote of no confidence in parliament and adoption of a new constitution by means of a referendum. However, their biggest concern was question 4 — a proposal to strip members of parliament of their absolute immunity. It was an open secret that many enterprising individuals who had made a fortune illegally used the MP’s mandate as a guarantee of personal safety. Predictably, the impoverished population would eagerly vote to strip the MPs of their immunity. Finally, it was quite obvious that the presidential team intended completely to destroy Ukraine’s parliamentary system by taking away the lawmakers’ immunity from prosecution. In such conditions the executive power, whose representatives were purposefully digging up dirt on every public and political figure or major businessman, became extremely dangerous to society. The presidential referendum would destroy the established configuration of state power structures. The triangle would become a flat line — the one you see on a cardiograph of a deceased patient.
With the adoption of the 1996 Constitution, the third branch of power, the judicial, for the first time started to play a major role in the political struggle. Because the law on the nationwide referendum was adopted back in July 1991 and hence was at odds with the new constitution, the procedural issues of the 2000 referendum had to be resolved by the Constitutional Court. At the same time, the parties who were in opposition to the president appealed to the Constitutional Court, claiming that the referendum questions were in violation of constitutional provisions.
The court struck down questions 1 and 6, which drew fierce criticism from Ukrainian and international observers and drastically restricted the internationally accepted status of the referendum by refusing to recognize the direct effect of the referendum results. It was up to parliament to bring to life popularly approved decisions. This meant that parliament needed to muster a constitutional majority of at least 300 votes to pass laws that would result from the referendum.
In this situation Leonid Kuchma had to make the referendum results seem as convincing as possible. He hoped that the lawmakers would feel duty-bound to implement the referendum results if the nation overwhelmingly supported the proposed constitutional amendments.
Kuchma entrusted the organization of the referendum to Oleksandr Volkov, who had secured wonderful results for Kuchma in the 1999 presidential elections. Volkov again justified the hopes placed in him. According to the foreign press, the percentage of positive replies to the referendum questions was implausibly high, ranging from 82% to 90%. The turnout was also surprisingly high: 81% of those registered to vote.
The main reason behind the wonderful results secured by the presidential team was the balloting procedure allowing for advance voting, which made it technically impossible to prevent vote rigging. Overall, 54% of all voters used the opportunity to vote in advance. The highest percentage of those who used advance voting ballots was recorded in Zakarpattia oblast — 74%.
The political struggle touched off by the April 16, 2000, referendum divided the parliamentary factions into pro-presidential and pro-government ones. For the first time the communists found themselves in the situation of odd man out. An anti-presidential opposition had formed as a mixture of rightist and leftist forces. This was an alliance of the former Rukh Popular Movement parties headed by Yuriy Kostenko and Hennadiy Udovenko, Yulia Tymoshenko’s Batkivshchyna [Fatherland], and the Socialist Party of Oleksandr Moroz. These political forces were supported by clans with no ties to the president. They looked for an ally in the prime minister, but Viktor Yushchenko preferred to remain apart from the confrontation.
Kuchma hoped that the parliamentary majority formed in December 1999 would provide enough votes to implement the referendum results. The additional votes needed for the constitutional majority were to be secured by a propaganda campaign unfolding in the mass media. It boiled down to the fact that the lawmakers had no moral right to disregard the popular will expressed through the referendum. Politicians questioned the accuracy of the referendum results, but could not provide any documentary evidence.
Meanwhile, the parliamentary majority secretly sabotaged the plans of the presidential team. In June 2000 constitutional amendments issuing from the referendum results received only 251 votes. The political situation remained in a state of uncertainty and was further aggravated by the Gongadze case and secret recordings made by Major Melnychenko of Ukraine’s Security Service.
In April 2000 the opposition journalist Heorhiy Gongadze launched a new Internet publication called Ukrayinska Pravda. Gongadze disappeared on September 16, and his decapitated body was unearthed on November 2. On November 28 Oleksandr Moroz informed the members of parliament about the tapes containing conversations recorded in the president’s office, and played recordings that implicated the president in Gongadze’s murder. On December 1, 2000, transcripts and audio files of fragments from Melnychenko’s tapes were posted on the Ukrayinska Pravda Web site. To this day this Ukrainian Web site has been most popular with Internet users.
Melnychenko’s tapes and the Gongadze case have not progressed past the investigation stage. It is anyone’s guess when the two cases will be heard in court. Nonetheless, over the past four and half years the political situation in Ukraine developed under the influence of “tapegate.” This lengthy interval makes it difficult to comprehend the key role this scandal played in the tumultuous events of 2000 and 2001.
On March 15, 2005, Leonid Kuchma gave his first interview to Ukrainian journalists after the 2004 elections, in which he confessed: “I ran for reelection with a European orientation. After the victory I had high hopes and big plans. I intended to continue very serious and interesting reforms. The tapegate frustrated all the plans.”
We know nothing about any “interesting reforms,” but the tape scandal did frustrate the plans for constitutional reform, which would place parliament under Kuchma’s thumb.
In December 2000, immediately after Major Melnychenko’s tapes were played in parliament, the opposition resorted to firm actions, mustering anti-presidential rallies in Kyiv. “A No Kuchma Zone” tent town was set up on Independence Square. Opposition parties formed their coordinating body — the National Salvation Forum.
As tensions mounted, it became clear that implementing the referendum results was out of the question. In January 2001 only 204 lawmakers supported the proposed constitutional amendments. “Ukraine without Kuchma” demonstrations gathered in Kyiv. Yet they never attracted more than 20,000 participants, i.e., they lacked a genuinely mass character. Demoralized by the tape scandal, the president resorted to decisive actions. In January 2001 he dismissed Yulia Tymoshenko as deputy prime minister. On February 13 she was arrested on charges of tax evasion, smuggling of Russian natural gas, and bribing Pavlo Lazarenko, all of which allegedly occurred between 1996 and 1999. The arrest of the de facto opposition leader shattered the opposition’s ranks. On March 1 the police broke up the tent town on Khreshchatyk.
The confrontation between the opposition and the government reached its peak during an 18,000-strong rally near the Taras Shevchenko monument in Kyiv on March 9, 2001. Dozens of protesters and police officers were injured in clashes.
April 2001 marked one year after the approval of the government program that Viktor Yushchenko presented in parliament after his appointment as prime minister. One year after the program was approved, the Constitution allowed the vote of no confidence in the government, and the presidential factions rushed to capitalize on this opportunity. On April 26, with the votes of clan parties and the communists, parliament passed a vote of no confidence in the popular prime minister, who had forced the oligarchs to pay back wages and pensions. Ousted from the government, Yushchenko became the opposition’s natural leader.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Stanislav Kulchytsky was born in Odesa in 1937. He is a graduate of Mechnikov Odesa University and postgraduate courses at the Economics Institute of the Academy of Sciences of the Ukrainian SSR; candidate of economics (1963), doctor of historical sciences (1978), professor (1986), meritorious worker of science and engineering (1996), winner of the State Prize of Ukraine in Science and Engineering (2001); academician, the Ukrainian National Academy of Sciences since 1960. Mr. Kulchytsky has supervised 27 candidates and 14 doctors of historical sciences. He has over 1,500 publications to his name, including 42 books, over 70 chapters in books co-authored with others, and over 500 newspaper articles. In the past 8 years Stanislav Kulchytsky has published 62 articles in The Day.
