Fate of a demagogue: Ivan Briukhovetsky’s political acrobatics
Today’s masters of the “political slalom” probably sincerely consider themselves trail-blazers. After all, they have used so many sophisticated techniques in the struggle for power and voter support, and have uncovered so many secrets of this mysterious trade. However, a painstaking and conscientious study of Ukraine’s political history (including the times of the Ruin and the rule of the unconventional hetman discussed below) proves that there is a certain matrix of how Ukrainian “helmsmen” scale the peak of the governmental Olympus, as well as a certain matrix of political intriguing.
The life and political career of Ivan Briukhovetsky, Hetman of Left-Bank Ukraine in 1663-1668, allows one to trace with exceptional precision the successive stages and components of this matrix. Briefly, they are: reliance, as a rule, on a famous political patron (in Briukhovetsky’s case, it was Hetman Bohdan Khmelnytsky whom our hero served early in his break-neck career). Incidentally, the future demagogue and power-seeker was titled in a very interesting way in the Zaporozhian Cossack register of 1649 as Martynets of Khmelnytsky.
The second component is “coming out of the shadows” and rapidly moving up the rungs of power; the third, playing up to the poorest strata of the populace and speculating demagogically on the feelings of the most downtrodden people. Indeed, Briukhovetsky was a past master of this, but in fact it was the egotism of the Cossack officers and the pursuance of their own strictly material interests that enabled the career-seeker to carry out his plans.
The fourth component is seizing power by wielding the stick (cruel repressions) rather than the carrot; fifth, switching sides, often unexpectedly, by force of circumstances and with the aim of retaining power; and sixth, an inevitable humiliating end.
Briukhovetsky was one of those Ukrainian historical figures about whom the famous Cossack chronicler Samiylo Velychko wrote these bitter but just words: “How could they care about their dying Mother Ukraine if each of them was ready not only to let his eye be gouged out but also to put his brother or father to death for silver and gold?” The tragic paradox of the period of the Ruin, which deserves closer scrutiny, was that Briukhovetsky, who was an unabashed egotist, careerist, political swindler, and demagogue, managed to enlist the active support of a sizable number of Zaporozhians, especially those who may be described as “the 17th-century proletariat,” i.e., poor Cossacks. This became possible only as a result of the catastrophic political and moral disorientation of society as well as the split in Ukrainian society along social, religious, corporate, clan, regional, or even geopolitical lines after the death of Hetman Khmelnytsky. In other words, the Ukrainian elite failed to bond society together, but instead focused almost exclusively on the struggle for power.
Is it surprising, then, that it was Briukhovetsky, the most sinister, cruel, and persistent representative of this elite, without moral or ethical scruples in his lust for power, who banked on a kind of “social revolution” in Left-Bank Ukraine, overthrew the old and corrupt Cossack officers by means of well-considered slogans of equality (to be more exact, he incited the “lower classes” against the senior officers), and strove to remain in power as long as possible?
The important thing to remember is that this very tactic was applied in a truly virtuoso way by the Moscow government in the 17th and 18th centuries, when it was colonizing and “pacifying” Ukraine. So it seems only natural that none other than Briukhovetsky was the first of those Ukrainian collaborationist hetmans (let’s call a spade a spade) who above all banked on tsarist favor by blazing a “path of treason” to Moscow and with unparalleled cynicism selling out the interests of the people they ostensibly served.
Briukhovetsky came to power in June 1663, after the notorious Black Council held in Nizhyn. He assumed power with the undisguised support of Tsar Aleksei Mikhailovich and the Cossack and civilian “lower classes.” Obviously, the “rabble” that helped Briukhovetsky obtain the mace of hetman of Left-Bank Ukraine expected him to make short shrift of the especially hated Cossack officers. They were not mistaken.
In this connection Velychko says, “Like in the Polish fable about the two cats that cannot live together in the same bag, Briukhovetsky, gripped by the malady of malice and anger and hating his equal, Somko — Briukhovetsky’s main rival for power and representing the well-to-do and partly, middle-stratum Cossacks — easily found some reasons why he, Somko, should no longer be allowed to live.” Some two months after the Black Council in Nizhyn, Yakym Somko and a group of his followers were executed. Still, Briukhovetsky had to fulfill his “pre-election promises,” including perhaps the most important one: a solemn oath to bring about social justice by eliminating wealth (not poverty!). Further developments convincingly proved that Briukhovetsky was far from longing for some kind of “equality.” On the contrary, the gap between the well-to-do and the downtrodden was increasing.
Left-Bank Ukrainians saw this very soon, and all the new hetman could do was seek further support from Tsar Aleksei. The prominent Ukrainian historian Dmytro Doroshenko thus wrote about Briukhovetsky: “He himself would anticipate the Muscovites’ wishes and make all kinds of concessions at the expense of his own and his followers’ interest. In September 1665 he went to Moscow at the head of a large delegation of officers (officers had not disappeared as a class, only the personalities had changed), colonels, captains, lower-ranking officers, representatives of the clergy, burgers, and rank and file Cossacks — a total of 500 people. “Briukhovetsky was given the red-carpet treatment, and was received by the tsar to whom he presented lavish gifts. The hetman said he wished to marry a ‘Muscovite girl’; so he was advised to wed the daughter of Prince Dolgoruky, a representative of one of the noblest Muscovite families, and this wedding was soon held in Moscow. The hetman also appealed to the tsar ‘on behalf of all Ukrainian cities’ that all taxes imposed on urban and rural residents throughout Ukraine should go directly to the tsarist treasury, as should all Ukrainian state revenues, such as the proceeds from the sale of vodka and customs duties on foreign goods, and that tsarist voivodes and garrisons be stationed in all the major cities of Ukraine.”
There are reasons to suggest that this visit to Moscow was a definite milestone on Ukraine’s path to economic, and hence political, dependence on the tsarist government. “When he was leaving Moscow, the hetman and all his retinue received sable furs as a generous gift,” Doroshenko writes.
The treasonous policy of Khmelnytsky’s former servant touched off a wave of indignation. The new hetman of Right-Bank Ukraine, Petro Doroshenko, began fighting to unite the Ukrainian lands on both banks of the Dnipro into a single political entity, and was enlisting increasingly greater support. In the twinkling of an eye Briukhovetsky changed his orientation. Taking advantage of the strong protests over the signing in January 1667 of the Treaty of Andrusovo between Muscovy and Poland on the virtual partition of Ukraine, Briukhovetsky announced that perfidious Muscovy wanted to give Ukraine back to Poland, so all the tsarist voivodes should be expelled. But even this could not save him from an ignominious end.
In the spring of 1668 Doroshenko’s troops landed on the Dnipro’s left bank and went on to engage Briukhovetsky’s forces camped near Opishna, in the Poltava region. Velychko describes further developments: “Then Drozdenko (a Cossack colonel, Doroshenko’s ally at the time — Author) came into Briukhovetsky’s tent, read him Doroshenko’s message, and grabbed [Briuhovetsky] by the arm, intending to take him to Doroshenko. Suddenly many of Briukhovetsky’s captains and rabble (a very apt word — Author) came running to the tent with loud shouts and curses: they grabbed Briukhovetsky and took him to Doroshenko.
“When they delivered Briukhovetsky to Doroshenko, the latter uttered some words, and those who had brought him immediately beat and kicked him to death in front of Doroshenko. This gruesome carnage occurred on June 7 [1668], Monday, St. Peter’s Day, at midday.” Another chronicler commented very laconically and expressively on the disgraceful demise of Briukhovetsky: “Killed. Serves him right.”
Sometimes it seems that Briukhovetsky could have successfully run for the Ukrainian parliament this year — at least he could have shared his rich experience and given lots of advice, for he was a past master of political zigzags. One of his recommendations could have been: playing up to the “rabble” (and the “insatiable” oligarchs) is a risky game that leads to no good.
