UMBILICAL CORD OF FEAR

Again and again, especially of late, our thoughts have been drawn to the same question: will we ever step out of the shadow Russia casts on us? Will we get rid ourselves of our dependence on it? Not political or even economic, but, what is far more basic, our psychological dependence? As time passes, we still seem to be living on the slope of a nearby volcano, which could erupt at any moment.

For no matter what kind of events occur in Russia, they immediately and directly touch us (The issue is, of course, the dark, dramatic ones, for Moscow's successes never have any bearing on us). As soon as Moscow gets the whiff of a coup — in the shape of either the presidential impeachment, intent to postpone or speed up the elections, declares a state of emergency, or institutes criminal proceedings about the theft of several billion dollars — we immediately begin to think alarmingly, “Things will start there, and our house will collapse.” Our people start lining up and get ready for action, awaiting only the signal.

Or take last year's Black August 17 in Moscow. It might have been a political or economic game of Moscow's top bosses, but all Ukrainians, even those who had nothing to lose, became several times poorer overnight. The ruble is still falling, and everyone here in Ukraine still feels as if he or she were riding in a car with no brakes down a steep slope, no matter how hard the National Bank of Ukraine may try to reassure us.

A new round of Chechnya events brings its cordons saintaire, mop- up (what a terrible and shameful word) operations, use of NATO's experience in Kosovo (only recently condemned with so much wringing of hands), and complete contempt for all the agreements with Chechnya, achieved after great bloodshed. Absolute order was established with an fist of iron in the media, with any kind of opposition and criticism muzzled. Prominent television journalist Aleksandr Liubimov, for example, looks as if he had been run over by a tank (What a brilliant example for our government, a shame not to use it!). The same iron fist has quickly achieved the traditional and touching unity of the top officials, generals, and the people. The government's actions are most supported by the relatives of those killed in the hostilities or acts of sabotage.

What is most serious for us is that Russia, a superpower with one of the world's mightiest armies in terms of arms and manpower, is trying to involve all its former vassals in the Caucasus War. Without giving it a second thought, Moscow is drawing other states, small and poorly-armed in comparison with Russia, in the meat grinder it has made in the name of “joint struggle against world terrorism.” What is this? A straw at which the scared giant is clutching or the formation — with iron fist — of a system of “collective responsibility” for war crimes? This could also result in something unspeakable in Ukraine. Whether or not apartment houses will be blown up, our people will be staying up nights in their homes and wandering the streets like the restless Muscovites.

This produces the overall impression — at least on me — that our destiny is still being shaped not by ourselves and not even by the Moscow establishment but by the circumstances in which Russia finds itself by somebody's ill will or design.

Why do we live so uncomfortably, feeling not a slightest distance from the Moscow's current time of troubles? This is perhaps the most vivid manifestation of the weakness of our statehood. It is not only our authorities' absence of good intentions to defend our citizens or lack of responsibility. It is also the question of the quality of society, the character of Ukrainian community. If, of course, there is such a community.

Whatever it is, we very often keep ourselves glued to Moscow's, rather than Kyiv's, programs and news. What are our own presidential elections, Verkhovna Rada squabbles, and the 2000 budget for us, when the giant chariot of Armageddon is already rolling faster and faster toward us? Who will stop it?