Humiliation
Kyiv-Warsaw. The man in the street shows a rather abstract attitude toward how those abroad rate the quality of life in his country. Thus, we are not overly concerned about Ukraine being listed among the world’s poorest countries, that the public debt and dependence on international financial institutions keep growing. For the general public all this is very much like global warming.
On the other hand, we feel practically no personal gratitude to all those providing our country with substantial assistance like George Soros. Rather often they make us even feel suspicious; after all, who will invest in someone else’s business just like that, for the sake of the “development of civil society in Ukraine?” There must be an angle somewhere. Thinking this way, we are relieved of the burden of gratitude: it is something they themselves need, and we will manage on our own somehow (Incidentally, this attitude is characteristic of precisely those people who will never do anything unselfish themselves).
Poverty always makes people unceremonious, teaching them to beg in the street without any scruples. Which of us would not be happy to go on a junket abroad to attend a conference or seminar at the expense of an international foundation, institution, or church? And who will feel dubious about the hotel accommodation, food, transportation, even pocket money provided? In such a situation we behave like children of a poor country. Perhaps it is because the foreign hosts show polite consideration and understanding, as befits real Europeans.
There are exceptions, of course. Just as you become suddenly aware of it all, you see yourself for what you really are, part of a nation, and accepting handouts becomes so very humiliating.
A delegation of Ukrainian journalists visiting Poland was received and accommodated by several church organizations. We found ourselves dealing with extremely cultured and well-educated people, clerical as well as secular. They understood our situation (they had been through much the same not so very long ago) and did their utmost to be of help; they were open and informative. Save for a member of the organizing committee, a young lady N. She was our compatriot, graduate of a Ukrainian university, currently a permanent resident of Warsaw. Whether because this or because of her character, Ms. N. could not disguise her condescension. In fact, she did not even bother to be noncommittally polite when talking to us. In that young woman I saw what I personally consider one of the most hateful traits; two polarized styles of conduct. One was charm incarnate, reserved for the Poles. The other, careless superiority addressed the Ukrainians (I recall thinking of George Bernard Shaw’s Colonel Pickering, treating every cleaning woman as though she were a duchess, and Prof. Higgins regarding every duchess as no better than a cleaning woman).
Once, during the seminar, Ms. N., obviously chagrined by something, gave the Ukrainian journalists a dressing down in the presence of some Poles, choosing words with little care, scolding them for lack of attention to the program of their stay (it should be noted that the program did not always equally meet the interests of newspaper and TV journalists and reporters from news agencies on the delegation). She ended by exclaiming, “And to think that we have spent so much on you!”
The quiet hall was now dead silent and cold, as though a phantom had made his appearance, looking so ugly, senselessly stubborn, a reminder of enmity long since past. Enmity that neither we nor our neighbors needed. I don’t know about others, but I felt like grabbing the suitcase and boarding the first train home, back to my poverty-stricken Ukraine. What stopped me from acting on the spur of the moment (God knows, maybe I should have gone through with it) was my commitment to The Day and its readers (we had to complete the program, and we had not visited the home town of Karol Wojtyla, now Pope John Paul II). Also, I remembered the eternal truth: For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world and lose his soul? (Matthew 16:26)
Ten years of Ukrainian independence are too brief a period historically, a fraction of a second on the clock of eternity. But they are a long time in the scale of human existence. After ten years young people become mature adults and mature adults turn into the elderly, and many pass away, destined never to see what will finally happen to their country. Will we ever accumulate enough wealth to generously share it with others? Will the time come when we will help the poor and downtrodden elsewhere in the world (say, people in the United States or Germany, invite them to visit us at our cost and share with them our money and experience, freely and delicately), rather than expect this help ourselves? When we can feel that we do all this not only for them, but also for ourselves?
