On the history of Ukrainian education in Podillia at the turn of the twentieth century
In 1908 Rada reprinted for the second time on public demand the full text of the Holy Synod’s decree addressed to Bishop Parfeniy (lay name Pamfyl Levytsky, born in Poltava province) of Podillia and Bratslav on teaching the Ukrainian language in the schools of his diocese. The document allowed: 1) teaching the Ukrainian and Moldavian languages in church schools according to the wish of local communities (provided the Russian language was also mandatory); 2) teaching Ukrainian grammar at two-grade schools and at Vinnytsia’s convent school; and 3) adapting church school textbooks to the facts of history and present- day life of the local area.
Each of these three items imposed obvious restrictions. For example, the first item dealt with teaching Ukrainian mostly to the just-admitted pupils, the second with studying Ukrainian grammar after classes at local cost, while the third said the Holy Synod’s school council would come to a conclusion about adapting textbooks and readers to local conditions only after the eparchial school council of the Russian Empire’s Southwestern Region had filed its proposals. Therefore, the Synod’s decree was a tribute to the time, a sign of Russia’s cultural and political liberalization caused by the 1905 Revolution and the tsarist manifesto of October 17, 1905, rather than an instance of the intentional protection of ethnic minorities’ rights.
Serhiy Yefremov made his own comment on this decree in early 1908. He was surprised why this permission should be given to “a small piece of Ukrainian land rather than Ukraine as a whole.” He added, though, “Yet, this is a good beginning...” He wittily named his article “An Interesting Puzzle.” To solve the latter, he cited some practices at Mrs. Slavutynska’s Girls Gymnasium in Kamyanets-Podilsky. The Ministry of Education allowed teaching in Ukrainian but demanded that this be done only by diploma-holding instructors (Rada, No. 8, 1908). But was it possible to acquire a proper diploma if Ukraine’s universities had no Ukrainian-language departments?
Yefremov also pointed out the perfidiousness of the decree’s words about local funds. “The official knows what he is doing,” he writes. “If the spirit of time forces him to make concessions, he will shape them in such a way that they will lose any value. This happened with the ministry’s permission, which remained stillborn due to absence of diplomas; the same is happening with the synod’s permission which has run into the underwater reefs of so-called local funds. I think the supplement about local funds was included tongue in cheek: synod bureaucrats are as clever and crafty as those in the ministry...”
To prove the pharisaical nature of Russian proposals, Yefremov also quoted the council of the village Sutysk (Vinnytsia district) as saying, when queried by Kamyanets-Podilsky city council, that it had “not a penny to spare” in order to teach the Ukrainian language “overtime” at the local two-grade parish school.
It is therefore quite logical that the journalist asks the final sarcastic question, “I wonder if I could now solve the puzzle devised by Synod officials: will there be Ukrainian education in Podillia? And I am afraid there is nothing to solve here...”
How did Podillia react to the Holy Synod’s decree? First of all, the Podillia Eparchial Council requested the Podillia Provincial Administration on March 24, 1908, to allocate money for maintaining thirteen schools that wished to use Ukrainian as medium of instruction.
Oddly enough, this project required as few as 4,680 rubles. “As we see,” Yefremov commented, “the amount is not exorbitant at all; on the contrary, it is strikingly negligible.” He immediately adds prophetically, “It is likely that the administration will not find the money, and the Ukrainization of Podillia schools will grind to a halt.” But even if there is money, there will be no diploma-holding teachers, as was the case with Mrs. Slavutynska’s gymnasium. The ministerial permission to teach at this institution in the Ukrainian language turned, to quote Yefremov’s figurative phrase, into an epitaph. A lawyer by profession, Yefremov gives a juridical definition of this phenomenon, “On the one hand, there seems to be a right, on the other hand, you can’t take advantage of it; one the one hand, there is permission, on the other, it is out of the question to do anything on the basis of this permission. The science of law has the term jus nudum (naked law ) (my emphasis — Author), a law devoid of any real force, a toy law. The so-called right to introduce Ukrainian language teaching in Podillia is an instance of precisely this naked law.” Isn’t it true that the current Ukrainian language situation in Ukraine also smacks of the same naked law?
That introduction of the Ukrainian language in Podillia schools had no widespread support is evident from the publications in Rada No. 177, 1908. In a report from Kamyanets-Podilsky, the newspaper’s own correspondent describes the shocking facts of public indifference to this patriotic initiative. Following the provincial administration’s request of April 5, 1908, the overwhelming majority of district administrations (9 out of 11) refused to allot money to the eparchial school council for such purposes in 1909, while two district committees did not deign to consider this request at all.
The article says in conclusion that rumors were rife that the provincial administration had allegedly sided with most district committees and decided to decline the request of the eparchial school council. The bitter irony is that while the superiors gave permission, subordinates torpedoed the whole matter. Does this not resemble what we have today?
Seeing that teaching the Ukrainian language in Podillia had reached a deadlock, the progressive public takes new initiatives. For instance, the article “Are We Going to Fail Again?” by P. Prosvitianyn (No. 229, 1908) says it was necessary that all Ukraine, including Prosvita (Enlightenment) societies, render assistance: “each of the Prosvitas should take care of an Ukrainian language department in one or two of the thirteen Podillia schools and try to arrange things as best as it can... If we, conscientious Ukrainian nationals, fail to do our utmost to put the Synod’s decree into practice, we will commit an unpardonable sin against the whole Ukrainian nation and make a mistake of historical significance (my emphasis — Author).”
Oddly enough, this appeal was heeded and the matter seemed to make some headway. The first to respond was the Prosvita of Podillia (Kamyanets-Podilsky), which decided to take care of one teacher in each school. As mentioned, the whole affair needed just 4,680 rubles. They were also supported by some other non-governmental organizations.
What happened then was unpredictable. According to the Kamyanets-Podilsky correspondent of the newspaper Kievlianin (1908, No. 343), the funds the Prosvita of Podillia raised for the upkeep of teachers were turned down by the bureaucratic clergy. Moreover, special commissioner Oppokov, who inspected a school in Vinnytsia, “concluded that even without a special Ukrainian department the school is in the grip of khokhlomania that thrives at the tacit consent of the principal himself.”
Serhiy Yefremov quoted these Kievlianin lines in his article “Which Way the Wind Blows” (Rada, 1908, No. 285) with the following comment, “That is where the shoe must be pinching.” What embarrassed the bureaucracy was not the language but penetration of the Ukrainian spirit into the school and the growing national identity of teacher and pupils. The matter was thus not in the money (as we said above, it was found) but in the covertly hostile attitude of the Podillia clerical bureaucracy to the Ukrainian question. Approving the Kamyanets-Podilsky Prosvitas initiative, Yefremov simultaneously pointed out another reason why the Podillia problem was not solved. This was an inherent Ukrainian ethnic trait, an internal enemy of sorts, called timidity and cowardice. He wrote in the article “A Civil Duty,” “Unfortunately, this matter is being given a low profile, we see no persistency at all, which obviously impairs the cause. Having embarked on a very good and noble journey, the Prosvita of Kamyanets seems to be treading too cowardly and cautiously. On the contrary, we must remind our community — loudly, everywhere, and on every occasion — about their duty to help introduce the Ukrainian language in Podillia’s schools. We are still convinced that energetic efforts will be crowned with success.”
Yefremov seemed to be addressing his concluding words to us and our time, “The Ukrainian community... must do its very best for the Ukrainian language to be taught in Podillia schools, so that our enemies do not hurl at us accusations that we are unable to take advantage of even what we have and can do. This is a very serious thing, here lies the beginning of our future public education, and if we retreat, make a mistake or miss a chance, we will undermine the whole cause of great importance (my emphasis — Author) for a long time to come.”
