Laura Cleary
Centre for International Security & Resilience, Cranfield University at the Defence Academy of the United Kingdom, Shrivenham, UK
ABSTRACT
In the space of 24 years, Ukraine has experienced three ârevolutionsâ: the revolution for independence, the âOrange Revolutionâ and the âDignity Revolutionâ. On each occasion the event has been lauded as a triumph of democracy over authoritarianism and as evidence that Ukraine will soon be able to assume its rightful place as a free, democratic state in Europe. On two out of three occasions the reverse has occurred; while the people have taken to the streets to protest against flagrant corruption and abuse of power, the oligarchs have responded with only minor changes to the political system. The reins of political and economic power have remained firmly in their hands, and Ukraineâs prospects for political and economic development have deteriorated. The Dignity Revolution of 2014 is seen as different from preceding revolutions because civil society appeared to be much more active and it has succeeded, in part, in maintaining pressure on government for reform. It is important to understand, however, that despite periodic and dramatic demonstrations of outrage over the corrupt and authoritarian practices of the political elites, civil society has generally been classed as apathetic, weak and ineffectual. Thus, the current challenge for Ukrainian civil society is to overcome its own limitations so that it can better hold government to account.
Introduction
More than prospects for peace or opportunities for meaningful change what has proliferated since November 2013 have been the narratives and counter-narratives which seek to explain EuroMaidan and subsequent events in Ukraine. For Russia, the collapse of the Yanukovych government and Ukraineâs descent into civil war are the result of US support for âfascistic tendenciesâ and the dangerous expansion of NATO in opposition to the wishes of the people. In turn, Russiaâs annexation of Crimea in 2014 and its support to rebels in Eastern Ukraine are viewed by NATO and the EU as evidence of the resurgence of the âRussian Bearâ and the return to Cold War geopolitics (Riley-Smith 2015; Sakwa 2015). For some in Ukraine, the ongoing conflict is evidence of the perfidious nature of Russia and the West and the failure of either party to adhere to previously agreed security guarantees.1 An alternative narrative, and the one favoured by Vladimir Putin, is that EuroMaidan is evidence of the abrogation of democracy through the illegal overthrow of a âdemocraticallyâ elected government (Goble 2015). The counter-narrative is that EuroMaidan is symbolic of the people triumphing over a corrupt and authoritarian regime. It is this latter perspective which is held by Ukrainian President Petro Poroshenko and his domestic and international supporters. For them the âDignity Revolutionâ marks a significant turning point in the development of Ukrainian democracy and the advancement of accountability. Yet, even for those who genuinely want the Dignity Revolution to succeed there remains a nagging feeling: Havenât we been here before? And if we have been here before does that mean that the outcome of this particular revolution is pre-determined? Is Ukraine destined to repeat the same cycle of events in perpetuity?
In order to answer these questions, it is necessary to reflect on what structural and cultural changes have occurred within the field of Ukrainian politics since it achieved independence in 1991. As will be detailed below, over the last quarter of a century Ukrainian politics has been dominated by four consistent and interlocking themes: limited constitutional reform, elite power struggles, corruption and periodic public revolts, all of which have shaped the space in which civil society operates.
What price freedom?
On 18 September 2014 Ukrainian President Petro Poroshenko addressed the joint houses of the United States Congress appealing to them to support Ukraine in its hour of need. In his address he declared:
There are moments in history when freedom is more than just a political concept.
At those moments, freedom becomes the ultimate choice, which defines who you are â as a person and as a nation.
Ukraine has lived this moment over the last 10 months â and became the scene of the most heroic story of the last decade, a synonym for sacrifice, dedication and the unbreakable will to live free.
The people of Ukraine stood up to the corrupt regime of Yanukovych.
They stood their ground during this dramatic winter â and they are standing their ground right now!
The defenders of freedom were willing to sacrifice their lives for the sake of a better future. What is even more amazing, they won âŚ
There is nothing more impressive than seeing hundreds of thousands of peaceful people forcing out a violent dictator, and changing the course of history.
Day after day, week after week, month after month â thousands upon thousands streamed into the streets of Kyiv, simply because their dignity didnât allow them to remain passive and silent, while their liberties were at stake âŚ
Poroshenkoâs performance was a moving plea from a beleaguered President. Regrettably, it resulted in far less financial support then he had hoped, a mere US$50 million pledged in FY15 in support of political and economic reforms. For the US, for the European Union (EU) and for the International Monetary Fund (IMF) the price of freedom is one that needs to be borne internally to the state in question. The question facing Ukraine is what does it take to not just demand freedom but acquire and retain it? This was the question many East European countries asked in the 1990s when they began their democratic transitions. As Chandhoke (2001) and Petrova (2007) both detail in their respective studies, the answer to that question was civil society. Defined as that space which exists between the state, the market and the family in which individuals voluntarily participate in activities based on shared interests, purposes or values (Cubitt 2013; Ljubownikow, Crotty, and Rodgers 2013), civil society is deemed to create the environment in which relations of trust, vital for democratic good governance, can develop. Robert Putnam was the leading advocate for the role of civil society and his perspective was endorsed and acted upon by the international community and donor agencies (Cubitt 2013; EncarnaÄion 2002; Petrova 2007; Tusalem 2007). In the 1990s, civil society came to be seen as a key enabler for both democratization and conflict resolution because it was deemed to have the ability to question and challenge undemocratic practices and values, set political agendas and generate a broad consensus on the legitimacy of the constitutional order (Petrova 2007; Toros 2007). It was assumed that poor governance was often the result of the limited capacity, or indeed the absence, of civil society; thus, one only needed to create and fund relevant civil society organizations to establish the conditions for improved governance. Aid agencies, therefore, advocated the establishment of a âthird sphereâ, a space associated with neither the state nor the market, believing that it should allow citizens to commune, build trust and establish the conditions for a more democratic society (Chandhoke 2001; EncarnaÄion 2002). Over time, however, that received wisdom has been challenged, with critics arguing that the fundamental assumptions that civil society is organized, coherent, inherently democratic and external to the political process are flawed (Chandhoke 2001; EncarnaÄion 2002; OâBrien 2015).
Those that contest the view that civil society can be identified with democracy suggest that one can âprofit by âunpackingâ the notion of civil society and looking more carefully at its constituent partsâ, as well as its relationship to existing power structures (Kubicek 2002). The first question which is asked is what actually constitutes the âthird sphereâ? As Petrova (2007) notes there is âno consensus on what civil society is or what constitutes itâ. Authors writing on civil society in the former Soviet Union have highlighted the discrepancies which exist between the theory of civil society and the realities. Paul Kubicek (2002), for example, has argued that to understand civil society in Russia and Ukraine one must look to the role of trade unions under communism, when they were used as a means to monitor the populace, during the perestroika era, when they sought to lobby for political and economic rights, and after communism when they have grown ineffectual, unable to mitigate against the worst excesses of an oligarchy which has sought to enrich itself. Yet he notes that despite the historic size and breadth of trade unions in those two countries, and despite the role that trade unions are generally understood to have played in advancing political and economic rights in established democracies, these associations are not generally addressed within the literature on civil society. In turn Mushkhelishvili and Jorjliani (2009) in their study of Georgian civil society have highlighted the skewed nature of civil society. In Georgia, it is non-governmental organizations (NGOs) that are deemed to constitute civil society despite the fact that they are vanguardist and elitist in their orientation and professional in terms of their management; the roles of academia, research institutions, the church and other social networks are largely ignored (Mushkhelishvili and Jorjliani 2009).
The second question which is posed is whether civil society is actually organized. If we accept that civil society is comprised of NGOs, academic and research institutions, religious institutions, trade unions, etcetera, then we must conclude that it is and can be further organized through the adoption or adaptation of governance and financial models. How then do we explain the actions of individuals, volunteers in the true sense of the word, who, independently of any organizational activity, give of their time, expertise and experience to affect political change? As will become evident below, this is an important question when assessing the EuroMaidan movement.
The third question is whether civil society is consistent in its interests and demands. Chandhoke (2001), EncarnaciĂłn (2002), Tusalem (2007) and Muskhelishvili and Jorjoliani (2009) would all conclude that it is not. Nor would they agree that civil society is inherently democratic in its orientation. In answer to the fourth question as to whether civil society is democratic the response would be mixed. While they recognize that civil society is relevant to the creation and maintenance of democratic public life, it can only perform that role if there are âcredible functioning state institutions and strong political parties with deep roots in societyâ (EncarnaÄion, 2002). As will be discussed below, those preconditions do not exist at present in Ukraine.
The fifth question is whether the âthird sphereâ can really be separate from either the state or the market. As Chandhoke (2001) and Toros (2007) both argue civil society is shaped by and operates in response to the political sphere; at the very least it needs âa politico-legal framework that institutionalises the normative pre-requisites of rights, freedoms and the rule of law ⌠The state codifies the power relations in societyâ (Chandhoke 2001). In the Ukrainian case this is a particularly important point because the majority of reform initiatives over the last 25 years have been focused on the question of how power, both political and economic, will be distributed not across society but amongst the elites. The final question is what should civil societyâs relationship with existing power structures be? Should it seek to act as a check on government, ensuring higher levels of accountability and transparency or should it seek to reform and/or replace those structures? In assessing Ukrainian civil society I want to focus on three of the issues identified above:
(1) Where does political power lie in Ukraine?
(2) How is civil society organized?
(3) What is the relationship of civil society to existing power structures?
To answer these three questions one must start with a review of the Soviet institutional and cultural legacy.
Blueprint for a hybrid democracy
When Ukraine achieved its independence from the Soviet Union in December 1991, it was assumed that of the 15 republics it was the one most likely to make a successful transition to democracy and capitalism (Gorobets 2008). Its population of 52 million was well-educated and politically active. The Popular Movement for Reconstruction, or Rukh, was one of the leading movements advocating an acceleration of perestroika, Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachevâs programme of political and economic reforms, and in petitioning for Ukraineâs sovereignty and subsequent independence from the Soviet Union. 90% of the population was in favour of that declaration of independence (Sherr 2002). Leonid Kravchuk, the former Chairman of the Supreme Soviet of the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic and the first elected President of Ukraine, was instrumental in orchestrating the dissolution of the Soviet Union (Plokhy 2014). It was Kravchukâs endorsement of the pro-independence movement within Ukraine, his cultivation of relations with US President George Bush, and his hard-line stance when negotiating with Soviet President Mikhail Gorbachev and Russian President Boris Yelstin that Ukraine was not interested in a continued union if power were to be monopolized in Moscow that led to the Soviet Unionâs eventual demise (Plokhy 2014). Kravchuk equated independence with democracy and believed the latter would quickly follow on from the former (Plokhy 2014). That promise, however, was not fulfilled.
In any country the progress of democratization is as much determined by institutional arrangements as it is by the prevailing political culture (Wise and Brown 1999). In the case of Ukraine, neither has proven appropriate for democracy. The current institutional framework, despite some tinkering to it, essentially remains a legacy of the Soviet system. Reforms have tended to be piecemeal and in response to the political crisis of the day; there has been no consistent line taken in terms of structuring the polity in order to sustain democracy. The focus has tended to be on who should hold power, president or prime minister, rather than on how that power should be exercised and checked. Thus, we see changes to the constitution in 1991, 1995/1996 and 2010â12 geared towards the initial establishment and subsequent strengthening of the president, while constitutional reforms in 2004, 2014 and those proposed in 2015 seek to decentralize power either by enhancing the role of parliament or local government. At no point has the role o...