In the Name of the People. Liaisons

could be understood as a form of class war. They saw the war with Russia as an anti-imperialist struggle, supported the army, and applauded their members who went to war as heroes. Others followed a similar path. Though they started by unmasking the fascist character of the Russian state, they ended up arguing that the only valid strategy against the Russian invasion was to support the Ukrainian Army. By evoking the history of World War II, they mirrored the logic of Russian propaganda, accusing anyone who criticizes the Ukrainian government of being pro-Russian or, of course, “fascist.”

      Another part of the movement decided that, again in reference to World War II, when faced with absolute evil, it was better to collaborate with the devil. In today’s terms, Russia was the obvious evil, and therefore collaboration came in the form of joining the Ukrainian Army or the volunteer battalions—in the end, supporting the government institutions. There were some of our now ex-comrades who went to war, or at least supported such a decision. It is certain that no one wanted to become cannon fodder for capitalists and the state. But, for some of them, it seemed like the only option left to fight the Russian invasion and the Russian machine. The most naive sincerely believed in the revolutionary nature of the people, and for a moment really thought they could agitate among the soldiers, convincing them to turn their guns against the government. The most cynical spoke about the opportunity to “gain war experience,” while others just felt pressure and the need to do something. With their support of armed struggle against the military invasion, part of the movement drifted toward a fascination for anything military. They seemed hypnotized by a new world of Kalashnikovs and camouflage, in contrast with which everything else just seemed to fade from view.

      The topic of war soon became dangerous to address. The propaganda was working not only in Russia but also in Ukraine. While those who argued against the war could quickly be labeled as Putin’s agents, it also became illegal to make public statements against military mobilization.

      A lot of people simply became tired of all the conflicts and left the movement. The country’s economic crisis forced people to work more, snatching away their time. While the energy of Maidan continued to nourish autonomous projects, stagnation struck the heart of the movement at the same time Ukrainian society was in crisis and the government still hadn’t completely regained control of the situation.

      OTHER HISTORIES

      In retrospect, it seems the movement failed to find a way to oppose the rising populist imperialist consensus, both in Russia and in Ukraine. And for this not only our weakness, but also the way we have defined priorities in these last years, is to blame.

      Too busy fighting fascists and Nazis in the street, we did not develop a solid analysis of what fascism is, nor did we propose an alternative to the official history of World War II, which seems to haunt us at every turn. At the level of rituals and symbols, we finally followed the version advanced by the Russian state—the myth of the unity of the Soviet People against fascism. The narratives about other forces that confronted both Stalinism and Nazism—like those of the partisan movement that rejected the rule of the Red Army—have become marginal. We have likewise paid too little attention to the conflicts of peasants and workers against Stalinism, or to the Gulag insurrections during the war.

      On the other hand, we also must rethink the colonial character of the Russian and Soviet empires. Armed conflicts in distant places have so easily been forgotten. Even the war in Chechnya, which was important for anarchists in the 1990s and at the beginning of the 2000s, was forgotten by the next generation. We are in dire need of internal structures that allow us to transmit such experiences and their lessons.

      In this light, it’s not surprising that the explosion of war in Ukraine took us by surprise. We have not fully taken account of the fact that Russia is always at war somewhere, in some part of the world. And now this war knocks at our own door, and threatens our comrades and neighbors. It attacks our friends. We no longer know what common ground can establish connections between our movements, especially at the moment we need it most.

      It seemed to us, as Russians and Ukrainians, that we almost lived in the same space, with a close past and present. We shared our experiences and resources in our struggle against common hardships. Yet when our states plunged us into war, feeding off the myths of our common past, we didn’t know how to resist. The more they try to mobilize the dead to divide us, the more we should show that history can’t be reduced to what is written by the victors. We ourselves have histories to tell—a story beyond imperialist myths, however they’re assumed—because only revolutionary history will keep us warm during this long winter.

      1. Followers of Nestor Makhno, the commander of the Revolutionary Insurrectionary Army of Ukraine, also known as the Anarchist Black Army, who led a guerilla campaign in southern Ukraine against other factions seeking to exercise authority over the territory (Ukrainian nationalists, and German and Russian forces).

      2. Berkut is the most brutal unit of the Ukrainian riot police.

      3. Also referred to as the Great Patriotic War, the Great Fatherland War is a literal translation of the name given to the part of World War II that was fought in the Soviet Union.

      4. This song, “What We Feel,” was composed by the band Till the End, and features the band Moscow Death Brigade.