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Where there is no law, but every man does what is right in his own eyes, there is the least of real liberty
Henry M. Robert

Every Khufu Wants His Own Pyramid, or St. Michael’s Golden Dome Monastery as a mock-up of democracy

13 November, 2012 - 00:00



Photo by Oleksiy STASENKO,The Day:

MYKHAILIVSKA SQUARE WILL SOON BE FULL OF BEGGARS

The seventh anniversary of Ukraine’s independence was celebrated with great pomp. Specially for the occasion Kyiv’s main street underwent a thorough reconstruction that included repair of communication lines, complete replacement of pavement, refurbishment of underground crossings, sidewalks, etc. Khreshchatyk turned out just fine.

On August 24, the street passed an exam in solidity–for the first time during Ukraine’s independence it hosted a military parade. The festivities also included large fetes, fireworks, and other colorful shows for the people. The entire celebration bore much resemblance to the well-known scenarios of Soviet Revolution holidays (the official part, so to speak), with a unique infusion of the then loathed carnival elements borrowed from frivolous foreigners.

In and of itself, the seventh anniversary is, of course, an honorable occasion for a triumph. But unfortunately, this was the only reason for the celebrations, which had an exclusively local character against the background of national trouble, if not national catastrophe. They were reminiscent of a banquet in the midst of plague.

Some seditious analogies come to mind, for example, preparations for a jubilee of the Revolution or a Communist leader in Soviet times. Same style, same handwriting–dedicate a project to some glorious date, put in an enormous amount of money and effort, then solemnly report completion and, wiping the sweat off one’s brow, take pride in another accomplishment.

Many people must remember the 1986 May Day parade, when thousands of lightly dressed children marched on a sunny radioactive day in the background of the Chornobyl disaster, as well as the Peace Bicycle Race a few days later, with a closed Prospekt Peremohy blocking the flight of Kyiv natives from the city.

The August 24 parade turned out to be the same sort of thing — it is difficult to see a real need for it. Moreover, the parade was in a sense a paradox, given the August 17 unprecedented presidential decree cutting the draft in half and absence of accomplishments that would warrant pompous celebrations.

It appears impossible to find plausible reasoning behind this action. It was either an act of despair (“at least we can celebrate”), or merely an ostrich pose (“let’s pretend we don’t notice anything”). But perhaps then everything can be explained in very simple terms?

Any authorities are vain by definition. They are also vain by necessity. Although the shape of our lives has changed dramatically, their content has remained essentially unaltered. Ukraine’s independence, which in fact came as a gift from above, not only forced the former nomenklatura to quickly change its ideological priorities (while retaining, however, their old ways of thinking and acting) in order to stay at the helm, but also brought to power new energetic people with great ambitions and appetites of their own. In principle, most of them had never thought of or really cared for an independent Ukraine. Unfortunately, there are very few people who came to power with a desire to do something for the country.

After seven years of independence, with no tangible success in their activities, our authorities are simply obliged to “puff their cheeks” and, as an old joke from Brezhnev’s times has it, “let all the steam out into a whistle.” It is easy to see the logic behind it: there must be at least some visible success, or is everything really all that bad? For example, so many good things have been done for Kyiv–new statues of Princess Olha, Prince Yaroslav the Wise, and St. George have been erected, Mykhailivska Square has been reconstructed, St. Michael’s Golden Dome Monastery is being rebuilt, the Virgin Pyrohoshcha Church in Podil has been renovated.

The need to restore ruined houses of worship to their initial shape demands a separate discussion. Serious doubts are raised whether the restored churches will become the same kind of spiritual centers as their destroyed predecessors were. Will a replica be able to fully serve the same function as the original, or will it just remain a model of the same size as the original? Especially if the replica is not an exact copy of the original? Paradoxical as it may sound, but at least on the outside the bell tower of St. Michael’s Golden Dome Monastery is not absolutely identical to the original, so the pompously publicized restoration of the unique cultural landmark turned into an indecent substitution of roughly cut glass for a diamond.

Most likely, the initiators of restoration are the least concerned about this very problem, which is really the main one. This show of care for culture resembles rather a no-loss, well-found niche for attracting attention in the absence of a national idea and any distinct ideological priorities. Not the least is also the petty, vain desire to be enshrined in history.

But even if we do need to restore temples, this is perhaps not the best time for it. Our Father, the Lord will forgive us and be patient for awhile.

“I made a monument to myself without using my hands,” this pithy phrase by Horace was echoed by many poets of different times and nations, including Pushkin and Derzhavin. Only a genius can be entitled to such self-confidence. Only he can build a monument to himself with the energy of his spirit.

And what if someone is not a genius but really wants a monument to himself? This passion absorbs ambitious, fame-thirsty rulers-tyrants and despots who have unlimited power and money in their hands. They build man-made monuments created by other people’s hands. A textbook example is Khufu’s pyramid, which was built for decades by thousands of slaves and whose construction used up all the money in the treasury.

At the expense of the treasury, many Khufus have enshrined their rule in numerous statues, arches, and palaces that vividly reveal the rulers’ personalities. Genuine architectural and sculptural masterpieces are also found among these monuments. On the one hand, they facilitated the development of human civilization (although the result was not always a masterpiece); on the other, much blood and sweat went into them.

Whatever the case, we can state for certain that this phenomenon is inherent in totalitarian regimes. The poorer the people, the louder the praise for rulers, and the more ambitious those in power. Genuine democracy and such despotism do not go together.

Rus’ is especially instructive in this respect. The Asian constituent in its history significantly hampered its civilized development and became a reason for lagging behind the rest of the world. Ukraine, as part of the former Rus’, is still groping for ways to enter the civilized community. Our declared democratic facade bears as little resemblance to democracy as does the replicated St. Michael’s to the original.

Since olden times, Russian imperial logic was in effect for many centuries: the province was drowning in dirt, poverty, and illiteracy, and the capitals went out of their way to please the rulers. And they did! The treasury was used heavily to satisfy each and every whim of those in power, and the state experienced a permanent lack of money for social programs, or, in simple terms, for the people.

The face of every large city of the former Russian Empire and Soviet Union bears material signs of some ruler or another.

St. Petersburg, erected literally on the bones of those who built it, is the creation of the energetic, cruel, and ambitious Peter I.

An absolute tyrant, Stalin immortalized his rule in new symbols and signs while destroying the symbols of the former power. A new style of heavy monumentalism evolved, featuring weighty, undeniable, and tasteless structures. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs building in Kyiv is a classical specimen of a totalitarian architectural style not far from Albert Speer.

The name of the not overly educated Khrushchev is connected with the Kremlin Congress Hall built on the Kremlin premises due to his lack of taste and knowledge. The Hall deprived the unique architectural ensemble of the right to be called so.

A zealous servant to Moscow bosses, Ukraine’s procurator Shcherbytsky was not free of haughty ambitions either. Thanks to his efforts, Kyiv was “decorated” with many cult structures serving the official ideology. An important reason was always found to construct something new. The logic behind it was very simple — any anniversary can be turned into a jubilee as long as the figure could be evenly divided by five or, in some cases, even by one. Thus, the Lenin Museum was built to commemorate the 110th anniversary of the leader’s birth (half of Volodymyr Hill had to be removed to accommodate the “masterpiece”), the Ukraine-Russia Friendship Arch, wittily nicknamed the “yoke”, on the 330th anniversary of Russia’s annexation of Ukraine, the sculptural group headed by Lenin, unsurpassed in its lack of taste – the sixtieth anniversary of the October Revolution, and the monstrous World War II Memorial Museum with the ill-famed “Mother of the Motherland” was solemnly opened on the 46th anniversary of the Victory Day. Brezhnev was already seriously ill, and there was concern that he would not live to see the real jubilee, the fiftieth anniversary. The new monuments were being added to the already existing ones of the same nature. All these structures were shouting, “We serve the ideology, we are part of it, we are in the system!”

The products of current creative efforts are, unfortunately, no masterpieces either. They are rather makeshifts bearing an “as if” character. This is a quite revealing feature, an emblem of our power: as if we have democracy in politics, as if we have a free market and reforms in our economy. And the new monuments are also as if restored.

What is most interesting and even funny is that completely identical processes are taking place in both Moscow and Kyiv. The old Party schooling is obviously still in effect, but Moscow, as always, leads the way. And, as always, our centuries-long provincial syndrome to do as they do in Moscow is very much at work here. Just as Moscow puts on fat against the backdrop of poverty-stricken Russia, so Kyiv is heavily decorated against the backdrop of wretched Ukraine.

No doubt, our beloved Khreshchatyk is beautiful after the reconstruction. And so are the renovated Ukraine Palace and Mykhailivska Square. And, of course, Kyiv should become a European capital. But... not before Ukraine becomes a European country. We can create our own European capital within the limits of our own Sadova ring-road-in the radius of two-three kilometers from Sadova Street-just to please the sight of high state officials and to humor their arrogance. We can also stage celebrations of independence on our Khreshchatyk, with troops marching to demonstrate our might. But isn’t this pageantry immoral in the midst of pervasive poverty and economic collapse? Isn’t it cynical to drain the poor budget for the ambitious projects of the ambitious authorities while taking money away from pensioners, children, health care, culture, science, and scholarship?

 

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