In my last post, I expressed my fear that Euromaidan would not survive the onslaught of Berkut and militsia troops that had overrun Hrushevskoho Street and surrounded Maidan. I thought it was over, and was grieving inside for the lost chance for Ukrainians to overthrow a thug government.
I was wrong to be so pessimistic. I'm watching streaming video right now of Yulia Tymoshenko speaking to the crowd at Maidan, sitting in a wheelchair. Even though I can't understand much of what she is saying, it's an incredibly powerful and moving scene. Who could ever have thought, on Tuesday and Wednesday mornings, that we could be watching this on Saturday? They stood their ground when their government labelled them terrorists and vowed to use any means necessary to clear Maidan. The people standing in Maidan Nezalezhnosti stared down troops itching for sustained violence on Tuesday. They stood their ground even as they saw their peers being shot and killed randomly by snipers on Wednesday. In the end, they won, and now it's back to 2004 again: Yulia Tymoshenko on the stage addressing people willing to give up their lives for basic rights.
At this moment, Yanukovich has been stopped at Kharkiv airport as he was trying to flee to Russia. His Interior Minister--the one in charge of the Berkut and militsia--has also been stopped at the border trying to flee. Yanukovich's house has been invaded, and the public are seeing how he lived (including a gold toilet). The police have disappeared from Kyiv.
It is a remarkable outcome, determined by incredibly brave men and women. I hope that, this time, Ukraine will not slip backwards to the kind of government Yanukovich created in 2010.
Showing posts with label Ukraine. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ukraine. Show all posts
Saturday, February 22, 2014
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Disturbing day in Kyiv
As I write this, police ("militia" and Berkut) have overrun the barricades on Hrushevskoho Street, and taken control of Ukrainian House on European Square once again. The protesters had taken control of both in late January. The convoy of buses carrying hundreds of Berkut troops is staged to move through the "checkpoint" established on Sunday on Hrushevskoho. The Minister of Interior Affairs has promised to "clean up" Maidan tonight. Euromaidan PR reports that police have surrounded Maidan on all sides. It's hard to see how the Euromaidan movement will survive through the night. If Euromaidan falls, Viktor Yanukovich and his police state win.
The script has played out exactly as some feared. The opposition leaders agreed to clear Hrushevskoho for traffic to move again, and return four state buildings, including the Kyiv City Administration building. One fear voiced at the time was that opening up Hrushevskoho would make it possible for Berkut buses to eventually drive down Hrushevskoho in large numbers and threaten Maidan. The process of clearing the street included clearing huge piles of debris and the large ice field that had formed in the no-man's land between the police and the protestors. As an obstacle, it was formidable.
The small opening that was created through the barricades Sunday was about 4 meters wide, but that was all the police needed today. I watched a webcam live this morning as the police overran the barricades, using sheer numbers to push through the Euromaidan defense. Control of Hrushevskoho also meant that the police had a clear path to Ukrainian House, and the manpower to capture it.
As it stands right now, a large crowd has gathered in Maidan, and from the stage the opposition leaders have urged Ukrainians to come to the Square. Meanwhile, the Kyiv metro was shut down earlier this evening, making it difficult for people living in suburbs like Nivky and Sviatoshin to get there.
And if Maidan fails, what's next?
The script has played out exactly as some feared. The opposition leaders agreed to clear Hrushevskoho for traffic to move again, and return four state buildings, including the Kyiv City Administration building. One fear voiced at the time was that opening up Hrushevskoho would make it possible for Berkut buses to eventually drive down Hrushevskoho in large numbers and threaten Maidan. The process of clearing the street included clearing huge piles of debris and the large ice field that had formed in the no-man's land between the police and the protestors. As an obstacle, it was formidable.
The small opening that was created through the barricades Sunday was about 4 meters wide, but that was all the police needed today. I watched a webcam live this morning as the police overran the barricades, using sheer numbers to push through the Euromaidan defense. Control of Hrushevskoho also meant that the police had a clear path to Ukrainian House, and the manpower to capture it.
As it stands right now, a large crowd has gathered in Maidan, and from the stage the opposition leaders have urged Ukrainians to come to the Square. Meanwhile, the Kyiv metro was shut down earlier this evening, making it difficult for people living in suburbs like Nivky and Sviatoshin to get there.
And if Maidan fails, what's next?
Sunday, February 9, 2014
Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky's Autobiography of a Corpse
I wanted to love this book, really. It's a collection of short stories written by a Kyiv-born author in the 1920s and 1930s, so the irrational side of me that wants to celebrate all things Ukrainian right now was prepared to drive this review. Unfortunately, the uneven quality of the stories leads me to write a different kind of review than I had intended.
Krzhizhanovsky offers a number of interesting scenarios and ideas in the stories, but in several stories he doesn't develop them in a way that grabs the reader and keeps him or her interested. The opening story "Autobiography of a Corpse" is a curious tale about a man who rents a small room and soon after receives a manuscript (left at his door anonymously) that is an autobiographical account of the life of the person who lived in the room before the current tenant. The story works, primarily because Krzhizhanovsky creates an interesting tension between the tenant and the narrator of the autobiography. Other stories in the collection don't work as well. The premises of "The Runaway Fingers" (the hand of a concert pianist escapes from his arm and flees down the street) and "Yellow Coal" (a man discovers that anger can be turned into an alternative energy source) are intriguing, but not, in the end, compelling.
Krzhizhanovsky offers a number of interesting scenarios and ideas in the stories, but in several stories he doesn't develop them in a way that grabs the reader and keeps him or her interested. The opening story "Autobiography of a Corpse" is a curious tale about a man who rents a small room and soon after receives a manuscript (left at his door anonymously) that is an autobiographical account of the life of the person who lived in the room before the current tenant. The story works, primarily because Krzhizhanovsky creates an interesting tension between the tenant and the narrator of the autobiography. Other stories in the collection don't work as well. The premises of "The Runaway Fingers" (the hand of a concert pianist escapes from his arm and flees down the street) and "Yellow Coal" (a man discovers that anger can be turned into an alternative energy source) are intriguing, but not, in the end, compelling.
Saturday, February 8, 2014
Tova Mirvis' Visible City
Tova Mirvis' new novel shows the reader New York City from a different angle: we get glimpses into the unseen and hidden city. Through the eyes of the novel's main center of consciousness, Nina, we see the lives of apartment dwellers behind the personae they take on for their daily confrontations with a chaotic, hostile city. Nina spends much of the first half of the novel looking into the windows of her neighbors across the street and trying to imagine the lives they lead. As the novel progresses, Nina moves from spectator to actor, but others explore what's hidden beneath the city's, and their own, exteriors. Hidden and walled up spaces become the focus of attention, and Mirvis develops a picture of the city as a palimpsest. As the cityscape evolves, it covers over what has been there, but fragments of the past are occasionally visible.
Closed subway stations, for example, don't disappear, they are locked up and are transformed into time capsules. These moments in the novel remind me, strangely, of the way the abandoned city of Pripyat in Ukraine, which housed the families of those who worked at Chernobyl, was frozen in time at the moment when the residents were evacuated after the meltdown. To see the images of Pripyat is to see the outlines of Soviet life as it was in 1986. When Jeremy, Nina's husband, sees the closed City Hall station, he, too, sees a snapshot of New York in the early 20th century. These places may decay, but they continue to be part of the cityscape, however obstructed from view they might be.
Mirvis is a sharp-eyed observer of city life, but more than this, she understands what I think is a fundamental truth about cities: that there is not a unified idea of "The City," but rather 10 million ideas and definitions of the city. In a passage where Nina and Leon, her neighbor across the street, are walking along Broadway, Mirvis explains this succinctly:
“They walked quickly. Leon had no need to look at the signs to know which block they were on. The Victoria’s Secret on 85th Street jarred with his inner map, and for those who’d lived here long enough, the storefront with the pink-and-white-striped awning and lingerie-clad mannequins would always be Broadway Farm. All those who lived here crafted their own internal rendering of the city based on how long they’d been here. He too carried his own version of the neighborhood—he’d grown up on the West Side and remembered when it had boasted one of the city’s highest crime rates” (37-38).
I grew up in Manhattan, and went to high school on the upper West Side. Throughout my teenage years, I walked frequently through the spaces Mirvis describes. What I realized, as I got deeper into the novel, was that I was constantly comparing my own "internal rendering" of the city to the one Mirvis creates. The results of the comparison reminded me that I'm not a "New Yorker" (and I think the novel implicitly challenges the idea that that category even exists), but rather a New Yorker from the 1980s and early 1990s.
New York in 2014 is familiar, but much of it has been radically transformed and is unrecognizable. The most obvious example is Times Square. Someone who grew up in midtown Manhattan in the late 70s and early 80s, as I did, and returning to it for the first time in 2014, would see a space configured in a completely different way. The sight of Toys 'R Us on 44th and Broadway is surreal and disorienting--can this really be Times Square?
But back to the novel. Mirvis develops characters who are interesting and who we care about. She describes the feelings of the people who inhabit the novel, and their encounters with New York, in a convincing way. In this regard, the novel rings true. My one criticism of the novel is that the circle of acquaintances, and the way they tie neatly together, feels contrived at times. Individual New York streets and apartment buildings are indeed micro-communities, but I think the novel stretched this beyond what seems likely or possible.
On the whole, Mirvis does an exceptional job of capturing New York City from the inside out. It is a carefully crafted novel that is a delight to read.
Closed subway stations, for example, don't disappear, they are locked up and are transformed into time capsules. These moments in the novel remind me, strangely, of the way the abandoned city of Pripyat in Ukraine, which housed the families of those who worked at Chernobyl, was frozen in time at the moment when the residents were evacuated after the meltdown. To see the images of Pripyat is to see the outlines of Soviet life as it was in 1986. When Jeremy, Nina's husband, sees the closed City Hall station, he, too, sees a snapshot of New York in the early 20th century. These places may decay, but they continue to be part of the cityscape, however obstructed from view they might be.
Mirvis is a sharp-eyed observer of city life, but more than this, she understands what I think is a fundamental truth about cities: that there is not a unified idea of "The City," but rather 10 million ideas and definitions of the city. In a passage where Nina and Leon, her neighbor across the street, are walking along Broadway, Mirvis explains this succinctly:
“They walked quickly. Leon had no need to look at the signs to know which block they were on. The Victoria’s Secret on 85th Street jarred with his inner map, and for those who’d lived here long enough, the storefront with the pink-and-white-striped awning and lingerie-clad mannequins would always be Broadway Farm. All those who lived here crafted their own internal rendering of the city based on how long they’d been here. He too carried his own version of the neighborhood—he’d grown up on the West Side and remembered when it had boasted one of the city’s highest crime rates” (37-38).
I grew up in Manhattan, and went to high school on the upper West Side. Throughout my teenage years, I walked frequently through the spaces Mirvis describes. What I realized, as I got deeper into the novel, was that I was constantly comparing my own "internal rendering" of the city to the one Mirvis creates. The results of the comparison reminded me that I'm not a "New Yorker" (and I think the novel implicitly challenges the idea that that category even exists), but rather a New Yorker from the 1980s and early 1990s.
New York in 2014 is familiar, but much of it has been radically transformed and is unrecognizable. The most obvious example is Times Square. Someone who grew up in midtown Manhattan in the late 70s and early 80s, as I did, and returning to it for the first time in 2014, would see a space configured in a completely different way. The sight of Toys 'R Us on 44th and Broadway is surreal and disorienting--can this really be Times Square?
But back to the novel. Mirvis develops characters who are interesting and who we care about. She describes the feelings of the people who inhabit the novel, and their encounters with New York, in a convincing way. In this regard, the novel rings true. My one criticism of the novel is that the circle of acquaintances, and the way they tie neatly together, feels contrived at times. Individual New York streets and apartment buildings are indeed micro-communities, but I think the novel stretched this beyond what seems likely or possible.
On the whole, Mirvis does an exceptional job of capturing New York City from the inside out. It is a carefully crafted novel that is a delight to read.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Saying the unbelievable with a straight face
I've been following the situation in Ukraine, and among the crazy things the government has said is this, from the Interior Minister. According to a BBC report, quoting Interfax-Ukraine, the Interior Minister stated that people from western Ukraine (anti-Yanukovich, pro-democracy) are being parachuted into other parts of Ukraine to stir up trouble against the government. He said the parachuting western Ukrainians were "provocateurs." As nuts as that sounds, he says it with a straight face and in the knowledge that there are some in the country who will believe it. It's also one of many examples of how the government demonstrates its lack of respect for Ukrainians by thinking they would all believe it.
The story reminded me, however, of a crazier news report we heard when we first lived in Ukraine. A Russian TV news program reported that, according to Putin, the British were spying on Russians, and Muscovites in particular, through microphones placed around Moscow. Here's the crazy part: Putin explained that the British had hidden the microphones inside of rocks, and placed the rocks on street corners around Moscow. And again, he did it with a straight face.
The story reminded me, however, of a crazier news report we heard when we first lived in Ukraine. A Russian TV news program reported that, according to Putin, the British were spying on Russians, and Muscovites in particular, through microphones placed around Moscow. Here's the crazy part: Putin explained that the British had hidden the microphones inside of rocks, and placed the rocks on street corners around Moscow. And again, he did it with a straight face.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
The struggle for Ukraine
Computers and the Internet have given us the ability to watch, from our recliners, the conflicts taking place around the world. We've reached a point in history when it is very difficult for governments to hide what they are doing in public places. What's not clear to me is whether being able to bear witness through technology translates into any meaningfully different forms of response.
I have paid close attention to the protests and police actions in Kyiv, Ukraine. My family lived in Kyiv for ten months just after the Orange Revolution. We walked through Maidan most days, and spent a lot of time in an office on Hrushevskoho Street, right across from the entrance to the Dynamo football stadium and the site of the most recent battles between protesters and police. The images are surreal and disorienting. It's hard to recognize the place, littered with burnt shells of Berkyut buses and tire fires and dislodged, broken cobblestones. Every so often, a cameraman will scan the scene, and in the background will be the storefront of a high-end, Western store. It's a strange juxtaposition.
Over the 63 or so days since the protests began, many people have posted videos documenting police violence against protestors. To say they are disturbing is an understatement. In December, for instance, a video circulated of a man lying on the ground being hit repeatedly with batons and kicked by numerous riot policemen as they ran past. I have watched live feeds from Espresso TV and other sources linked on the Kyiv Post, and seen the police surge against the protesters and then retreat. News sources from around the world have shown images of badly injured protesters.
But how has that changed the way the world reacts? More than 8 years after Ukrainians fought for fair elections by occupying Maidan and eventually electing a President committed to democracy, Viktor Yanukovich seems free to impose a police state and play the role of dictator. Don't like the fact that most of the protesters have put on helmets and masks to protect themselves and their identities from police and prosecution? Pass a law that makes it illegal for protesters to wear helmets and masks during protests! That law was passed last Friday, around 57 days after the protests began, and after 57 days of non-response by Europe and the US.
If Yanukovich felt the need to be cautious in December, he doesn't any more. The rest of the world has revealed its preference to let him do as he pleases. All that's left is for the people of Ukraine to fight alone against a police state that cares nothing about them.
I have paid close attention to the protests and police actions in Kyiv, Ukraine. My family lived in Kyiv for ten months just after the Orange Revolution. We walked through Maidan most days, and spent a lot of time in an office on Hrushevskoho Street, right across from the entrance to the Dynamo football stadium and the site of the most recent battles between protesters and police. The images are surreal and disorienting. It's hard to recognize the place, littered with burnt shells of Berkyut buses and tire fires and dislodged, broken cobblestones. Every so often, a cameraman will scan the scene, and in the background will be the storefront of a high-end, Western store. It's a strange juxtaposition.
Over the 63 or so days since the protests began, many people have posted videos documenting police violence against protestors. To say they are disturbing is an understatement. In December, for instance, a video circulated of a man lying on the ground being hit repeatedly with batons and kicked by numerous riot policemen as they ran past. I have watched live feeds from Espresso TV and other sources linked on the Kyiv Post, and seen the police surge against the protesters and then retreat. News sources from around the world have shown images of badly injured protesters.
But how has that changed the way the world reacts? More than 8 years after Ukrainians fought for fair elections by occupying Maidan and eventually electing a President committed to democracy, Viktor Yanukovich seems free to impose a police state and play the role of dictator. Don't like the fact that most of the protesters have put on helmets and masks to protect themselves and their identities from police and prosecution? Pass a law that makes it illegal for protesters to wear helmets and masks during protests! That law was passed last Friday, around 57 days after the protests began, and after 57 days of non-response by Europe and the US.
If Yanukovich felt the need to be cautious in December, he doesn't any more. The rest of the world has revealed its preference to let him do as he pleases. All that's left is for the people of Ukraine to fight alone against a police state that cares nothing about them.
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