Ukraine 2014-2022: how does the state function during the war?

Almost a year into the full-scale invasion, there are many things you get used to. Others, however, remain bizarre. Among the latter group are the many misconceptions about the Ukrainians which keep coming up in foreign discourses. 

Odd they may seem, there is, of course, an explanation. Ukraine came into the spotlight in 2014, only to disappear for the next 8 years. Meaning – foreign audiences missed out on many important developments. 

Let’s review some of the main changes.

Looking at the Ukrainian culture of 2014-2021, few things stand out. 

First, the market was still dominated by Russian artists to a large extent. Why? There are two explanations, one of an economic nature, another one is more behavioral. The return on capital employed is much higher for Russian artists than for Ukrainian simply due to the sheer volume of Russophones. Back in the old days, a Russian artist would create a film, a song or a book in  Russian and then export it to all of the post-Soviet countries. In the last eight years many Ukrainians would still consume it, not seeing this product as Russian. The habit, induced by 300 years of oppression, was still there. Looking at the Spotify top-10 chart in 2021 Ukraine, you would see six Russian songs. 

Second, to challenge this dominance, both nonstate and state actors intervened. In this case, non state actors were  the Ukrainians artists themselves. As many things in Ukraine, creative work in Ukrainian was a non-profit activity. Many musicians or writers saw it as a side activity, while pursuing 9 to 5 careers. Nevertheless, many carried on. The state introduced a number of measures. Since 2016, 25% of songs aired on radio in the prime time should have been in Ukrainian. The same year Ukrainian Book Institute was formed to support Ukrainian book publishing. Although the Ukrainian State Film Agency had been established earlier, but its budget multiplied by three between 2015 and 2021, making the agency more capable of supporting Ukrainian film-making. 

Third, the efforts of both state and non-state actors produced an outcome. Although Russians still held huge swaths of the market, Ukrainian culture became increasingly fashionable. By 2021, we had rave music in Ukrainian, pseudohistorical adventurists fantasy-like series about Ukraine, Ukraine-oriented stand-up comedy, podcasts on every subject and literature about the ongoing war. In other words, Ukrainian culture was not that different from another contemporary mass culture. 

In mid-summer 2014, 67% of the Ukrainians considered Ukrainian their mother tongue. By 2021, their share rose to 77%. Not much of change, one may say. Indeed – this is perhaps yet another evidence that the Russian language was not oppressed, although the Russian propaganda would tell you otherwise. 

Many Russian-speaking Ukrainian thought that they were speaking «Russian Ukrainian». Such formulae all went through the window, once Russians embarked on a full-scale invasion. 

The charge to reformulate the politics of memory was led by activists. Two subcurrents in these campaigns can be identified: positive and negative.

Positively, they called to introduce new agents into Ukrainian historical narratives. Those agents who furthered the cause of Ukrainian and Crimean Tatar identity were whited-out during the Russian and Soviet domination. Negatively, activists also called to remove Soviet-era residuals. Take for instance the so-called «great patriotic war» – a Soviet concept for World War II. Allegedly, it started in 1941. Soviets consciously erased Soviet-Nazi cordialities of 1939, when both states collaborated to occupy the Second Polish Republic. This is when the war started for many Ukrainians. 

The state eventually accepted these pledges and adopted respective reform programs. For instance, around 50 thousand toponymy objects (as big as cities and as small as three-houses alleys) received new names. Old Soviet names sometimes were as boring as Lenin street (in every village) or as bizarre as Chekistiv (the Soviet secret police workers). 

The state itself changed too. Back in 2013 it still contained many remains of Soviet governance. Now they are less. This transformation happened despite enormous pressure from interest groups: Russian intelligence assets, oligarchs and local rent-seeking elites. 

Reform of the health care sector was one of the most embattled. The Soviet Union had a peculiar philosophy when it came to health – that of megalomania. Build more, build bigger, build a highly-specialized healthcare facility in every district. In 2014, Ukraine had 7.5 hospital beds per 1000 people. The European Union, instead, had an average of 5.6 beds. 

Ukraine held 7th place in the world by this parameter, outnumbered by three post-socialist states (Belarus, Russia, Germany) and three high-income states (Japan, Republic of Korea and Austria). Ukraine simply did not have a budget to sustain this outgrown network. Therefore, primary care was reformed. A new principal was introduced – the money follows the patient. A patient can choose a physician. Those physicians who have more patients are paid more. Therefore, doctors are incentivized to improve their performance and skills constantly. 

Reform of the land market was embattled too. And in a very literal way: groups, funded by oligarchs, instigated a brawl under the parliament while its members voted for the reform. Since the days when Bolsheviks cemented their control over most of Ukraine, there had been no land market – everything belonged to the state. In 1991 the Soviet Union fell apart, but communists and other interest groups still were able to deny landowners permission to sell their land. A moratorium to sell and buy land was set up. It was only in 2020 when the parliament was able to cancel it and start the transition towards the market. 

Anti-corruption sector surged too after the 2014 revolution. The National Agency for Prevention of Corruption was established. This agency runs a publicly open register of property declarations, made by all public servants. Therefore, the Ukrainians could learn that those pro-Russians politicians who spoke most often about «impoverishment of the people» were bizarrely rich. For instance, pro-Russian oligarch Victor Medvechuk (now exchanged with Russia for Mariupol fighters) had a luxurious collection of 23 watches, eight cars and seven cufflinks, incrusted with gems. 

None of these developments were straightforward or fast. The same remains true even now: some transitions were accelerated by the full-scale invasion, others grinded to a halt. 

Yet, Ukraine attempts to keep up. For instance, the High Council of Justice received eight new members which was welcomed by the Ambassador of the European Union to Ukraine Matti Maasikas. Other developments, such as new laws on media and on national minorities.