The Ukrainian novelist Andrey Kurkov embodies some of the complexities of the relationship between Russia and Ukraine. His mother tongue is Russian and that is the language he has used to write his novels. After Russia's invasion of 24 February 2022, some Ukrainian bookshops refused to stock Kurkov's novels as part of the resistance to colonial oppression. It's part of the same tricky legacy of the Soviet Union that saw many Belarusians ambiguous about their first Nobel laureate, Svetlana Alexievich, because she too has written her books in the Russian language.
In this climate, one wonders whether a Russian journalist can get away with writing a book about Ukraine and the Russian invasion? Step up Mikhail Zygar, the acclaimed author of All the Kremlin's Men and founding editor–in–chief of the independent, Russian TV news channel Dozhd' (TV Rain). His previous book relied on enviable access to Vladimir Putin's inner circle. In War and Punishment, his new(ish) book, he draws once again on his enviable network of contacts, having interviewed, or at least met, nearly everyone who matters in Ukraine as well as Russia at some point during his years as a journalist.
Confessional
Aware of his own position as a Russian, the book is framed as a personal confession: Zygar begins by declaring that he is 'guilty' and 'responsible for Russia's war against Ukraine' (p.1). He was raised as part of the colonial culture of Russia, he says, and his narrative is structured round seven 'myths' that Russians tell about Ukraine. He does not seek to justify but to expose the falsehoods. Part I of the book ('Seven Tales of Colonial Oppression in Ukraine') explicates the myths, each of which gets a degree of recapitulation in Part II which covers post–Soviet Ukraine up to the unleashing of large–scale war ('Seven Tales of Modern–Day Oppression in Ukraine').
The narrative is written in the present tense which works reasonably well in conveying a sense of intimacy, pace and involving the reader in its events. It works particularly well in the longer, second part of the book. Describing the 2004 Orange Revolution in the present tense helps to bring home its relevance for, and how tied up it is with, Russia's invasion of Ukraine nearly two decades later. Describing a military parade intended to help Viktor Yanukovych's campaign in 2004, part of the election which precipitated the colour revolution, Zygar writes:
The main thrust of the patriotic revelry is that Russians and Ukrainians defeated the Nazis together, a theme that runs through Yanukovych's entire election campaign. As a corollary of that, at the instigation of the Russian spin doctors [helping the campaign of Russia's preferred candidate], [his rival Viktor] Yushchenko is accused of harboring nationalist and pro–fascist views. This 2004 campaign will prove to be a rehearsal for all the propaganda wars to follow. (p.225)
Those Ukrainians that the Kremlin doesn't like are always labelled as fascists and radical nationalists. This is part of the thinking behind Russia's declared war aim in Ukraine of 'de–Nazification'. So deeply ingrained among Russians is the belief that Ukrainian nationalists are Nazis that no one in Moscow seemed to think it a problem for the narrative that Volodomyr Zelenskyy, elected president in 2019, is Jewish.
I found the sections about young Zelenskyy's appearances on a popular Soviet–Russian television comedy competition show informative. From Kryvyi Rih in Ukraine's (not–quite) east, he too embodied the complexity of the colonial legacy, growing up speaking Russian and appearing in Russian–Ukrainian television shows. He was not a figure likely to become the leader of Ukraine. According to Zygar, Zelenskyy made his first overtly – non–comedic, at least – political statement in 2014:
First, he appeals to the new Ukrainian authorities: "If the people in the east and in Crimea want to speak Russian, let them. Get off their backs. Let them be legally entitled to speak Russian." Then he addresses Putin: "Dear Vladimir Vladimirovich, do not allow even a hint of military conflict on your part. Because we, Russia and Ukraine, are indeed fraternal peoples."' (p.297)
Situations change people. Zygar quotes former Ukrainian president Leonid Kuchma: 'After negotiations with Russia, any president of Ukraine becomes a Ukrainian nationalist' (p.334). Preparing to join the presidential race, Zelenskyy practised his Ukrainian with a private tutor, aware that speaking Russian wouldn't cut it with many in the Ukrainian public. As president, he apparently saw the October 2021 unveiling of a memorial at Babyn Yar, the site where tens of thousands of Jews were murdered during the Holocaust, as the basis for his post–presidential legacy (p.361). In fact, Russia was about to give him a far bigger role in history.
Path to peace?
Most books contain errors and I know I'm guilty of plenty in everything I write. Still, whilst there were a few claims in Zygar's book that didn't sound quite right to me, I gave him the benefit of the doubt and didn't note them down.
Then, near the end of the book, he discusses Belarus. Zygar asserts that, in Belarus's 2020 ballot, the opposition candidate Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya won 'around 70 per cent' of the vote (p.354). That outguns her own claims that she got 'more than 60%'; I'm not aware of anyone other than Zygar seriously claiming quite such a high figure. As a result of the rigged election, hundreds of thousands of Belarusians took to the streets in protest. In Zygar's telling those hundreds of thousands become 'more than 1 million participants' which is also at least double the size usually claimed by the opposition and unlikely in the country of only nine million. It makes me wonder if Zygar is careless about other details in this otherwise excellent book.
To return to the question I posed in the opening paragraph, I think that a Russian can indeed write a book about Ukraine. And I'm equally aware that, as a reader in western Europe, I'm unlikely to be the primary audience for Zygar's 'confession'. The immediate victims of Russia's colonial war may feel differently from me about a Russian writing this book. But I would say that, despite its framing, really this is less a book about Ukraine or the war, and more a book about the historical relationship between the two countries.
Zygar tells us that he and all Russians must bear the 'punishment' (p.371) for his birth country's imperial crimes. Writing this at a time Ukrainian forces are continuing to advance troops inside Russian territory, his compatriots may wish to think about the implications of that. Zygar himself lives in exile in Berlin. At any rate, I enjoyed reading his book very much.
Mikhail Zygar, War and Punishment: The Story of Russian Oppression and Ukrainian Resistance (Weidenfeld & Nicolson: London; July 2023). ISBN–978–1–3996–0901–2.
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