our resignations turned out not to be necessary. The next day, the Ukrainian nation surprised the world (and itself) by standing up for freedom. The following weeks went into history as “the first Maidan”, “the Orange revolution”.
My second goodbye was the leave of absence from the ministry in 2009–2010 when I worked as an adviser to then-presidential candidate Arseniy Yatseniuk. As a diplomat, you get a good look at politics from outside. During the 2010 presidential campaign in Ukraine, I got a good look from within. I am grateful to Arseniy Yatseniuk for this chance. It was both educational and sobering. Diplomacy and politics are joined at the hip, and yet their relationship can be strained and filled with pitfalls. Maybe, someday I’ll write about it in more detail.
The third goodbye was in February 2014. The Euromaidan was over. Kyiv’s streets were awash with blood. Yanukovych and his team—Including the first Vice Prime Minister Sergiy Arbuzov, whose foreign policy adviser I was at that time—fled the country. At the Cabinet of ministers, I did what I was hired to do: promoting the Association Agreement, conducting the dialogue with international financial organizations, and trying to help foreign investors, many of whom were treated extremely poorly by the Yanukovych government. I tried to do my best to serve my country in that position, but at the end of the day I had to face the reality: I was a part of a government that had turned criminal and failed the nation in a truly spectacular way. So, in late February 2014, I was about to leave the public service for good.
My resignation letter was ready when my mobile phone rang and the acting Foreign minister Andrii Deshchytsia offered me my old job back: as ambassador-at-large at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, in charge of public communications. Once again, the roller coaster of Ukraine’s history (and of my career) made an eye-popping curve. I spent the year 2014 communicating with CNN, BBC, Deutsche Welle, and other media outlets, writing articles, information bulletins, and speeches (including president Petro Poroshenko’s speech before the United States Congress). And, surprising as it was, by the end of the year I was appointed Ukraine’s ambassador to Austria.
The time I spent in Vienna gave me a better understanding both of the West, and my own country—as I could see Ukraine against the backdrop and in the context of European political events (and there were plenty of those in 2015–2020!). The desire to bring Ukraine into this context was my inspiration when writing this book. Partly it is addressed to Ukraine, and partly to the outside world (primarily the EU and the United States). When I write “we”, I mostly mean Ukraine. When I write “you”, I mostly mean the West. Honest disclaimer: both parts are equally undiplomatic. By “undiplomatic” I mean honest and occasionally unpleasant—to “us” and to “you”. Well, I spoke my heart. I tried to explain Ukraine to the West and vice versa—and it only makes sense if you call things by their name. Don’t hold it against me, if I paint the future too darkly—we Ukrainians tend to do that sometimes. But also consider what a dark time we live in.
For a whole number of reasons (both personal, and objective), my return to diplomacy during wartime was my moment of truth, my ultimate chance to prove I was worth my salt both as a diplomat and as Ukrainian. Which I honestly, with all my heart, tried to do. It was also, in a way, my chance for a small experiment: to build the embassy as a “miniature Ukraine”, a tiny part of my country where the decisions were mostly up to me and where I could therefore make sure that the last word belonged not to personal egos and bureaucracy, but fairness and, most importantly, common sense.
Most decisions that I made as ambassador were based on my conscience and reason, not on the bureaucratic survival instinct. In my official capacity, in all my conversations and interactions, including numerous op-eds, interviews, and activities on social media—I was, in the first place a free man representing a free nation. I know some people found it suspicious, and even unprofessional. Maybe there’s some truth in what these people say, although it can’t be purely coincidence that most of them are also big friends of Russia. As to me personally—I found it exhilarating to be a diplomat who speaks the truth.
My understanding of the diplomatic profession was shaped by Sir Harold Nicolson’s 1939 book “Diplomacy.”1 In particular, it stuck with me that, contrary to the wide-spread misconception, Nicolson put truthfulness and free-thinking among the most important diplomatic virtues. When writing this book, I was trying to be both: free and truthful. You can see it as my personal attempt to reconcile the usual constraints of the diplomatic service (secrecy, discreetness) with a desire and maybe even the duty to say what needs to be said at this decisive time—to my country and my country’s partners.
Becoming an ambassador is a dream come true for any diplomat. Yet, it just so happened that the highest point of my life came at the hardest time for my country. Ukraine was bleeding. It still is. And because we live in a time of a weak collective West, in many cases, Ukraine has been carrying this immense burden alone, courageously looking in the face of an enemy that instills the rest of the world with fear. Courage is a rare commodity these days, but not in Ukraine.
Very often when Europe and the world were undergoing a major change in the last three decades, Ukraine had a key role to play. It was the Ukrainian Independence referendum of December 1st, 1991, that put an end to the Soviet Union. It was the Orange revolution of 2004 that showed the European idea as a transformational factor sprouted in the post-Soviet space—and stayed there for good. It was the 2013–2014 Revolution of Dignity that didn’t let freedom die in this part of the world.
On the other hand, it was the failure of the Orange revolution in Ukraine that sped up Russia’s descent into authoritarianism. It was the failure of Ukrainian reforms that robbed not only Ukraine but almost the entire region of a positive perspective. It was the decisions of Viktor Yanukovych in 2013–2014 that triggered an escalation in the region. Ukraine is the cornerstone. We just don’t know exactly of what yet. She sees herself as Europe’s eastern flank. On the other hand, Putin & Co. see her as the core of the coming USSR 2.0. On my part, I can’t imagine any kind of Ukraine’s return under Russia’s shadow. Not anymore.
Despite all the democratic strides of the last decades, today is a bad time for mankind. Stephen Hawking, the brilliant mind of our time, before passing away in 2018, pegged our era as the most dangerous period in modern history—due to mankind’s divide into a relatively tiny cast of “successful” and an overwhelming majority of the “forgotten.”2 Germany’s former foreign minister Joschka Fischer predicted the end of the transatlantic West and even the demise of United Europe.3 The president of the US Council on Foreign Relations Richard N. Haas titled his column “Liberal world order, RIP!”4 Too pessimistic? Is it just about “liberal world order” or about “la liberté” as such, the concept of freedom as an inalienable right that has been so fundamental for the West, especially in the second half of the 20th century? It certainly sounds to me as if the worst-case scenario is to be taken seriously now. And many answers about Europe’s future depend on what happens to Ukraine.
The collective West of today and especially of tomorrow will be choosing between a reality based on truth—and the intellectual and spiritual blur of the post-truth world, where (to borrow Peter Pomerantsev’s fitting description of the world that Vladimir Putin has created in Russia and is trying to sell to the West) “nothing is true and everything is possible.”5 In other words, it will be a choice between a West of values and a West that is valueless. It’s still unclear who and what will prevail in the end. But I’m convinced: if it wasn’t for the bravery of the ordinary Ukrainians standing up for freedom, if it wasn’t for Ukraine’s readiness to fight back, the “post-truth” world, the world with zero distinction between good and evil, would have been celebrating a victory a long time ago.
Yes,
