What We Can Learn from Ukraine’s Fight for Democracy

During a landmark plenary session at the Nanovic Institute for European Studies, Olesya Khromeychuk, Director of the Ukrainian Institute London, joined Michael Pippener to dissect the profound lessons of the Ukrainian resistance. The conversation positioned Ukraine not merely as a site of conflict, but as a primary laboratory for democratic resilience. Khromeychuk argued that democracy is never a “given”—it is a persistent, active choice that requires the transformation of private dissent into public citizenship.
The Philosophy of “Hopeless Hope”
Khromeychuk’s analysis begins by deconstructing the linguistic and mythological roots of hope. She distinguished between the Greek Elpis—an ambiguous figure representing both expectation and the final curse remaining in Pandora’s box—and the Roman Spes, a goddess of more straightforward optimism. However, the intellectual weight of her argument rests on the Ukrainian concept of contra spem spero (hoping against hope). Drawing from the defiant poetry of Lesya Ukrainka, Khromeychuk identifies “hopeless hope” as a gritty, persistent rejection of passivity. This is not the naive conviction that success is guaranteed, but a strategic commitment to “plant seeds” for a harvest one may never see, providing the psychological infrastructure necessary to endure long-term existential threats.
The Narrative Window: History as Lived Experience
Khromeychuk’s childhood in Lviv serves as a narrative window into the erasure inherent in authoritarianism. She described the juxtaposition of her Austro-Hungarian tenement and a Soviet “concrete monstrosity” across the street. A central symbol of this history was the local Soviet fountain, which Khromeychuk later discovered was built directly atop a buried mikvah (a Jewish ritual bath). This was not merely an architectural choice but a deliberate act of “oblivion”—an authoritarian overwriting of the memory of a once-thriving Jewish Orthodox district. For Khromeychuk’s family, “practicing freedom” meant quiet resistance until the 1990 human chain, where millions of citizens held hands across Ukraine. Khromeychuk recalled contributing the “warmth of her hands” to an energy that traveled through time, connecting the generations who planted the seeds of independence with those finally caring for the “delicate shoots” of a sovereign state.
Democracy as Active Agency
A central pillar of the talk was the assertion that democracy is “hard work.” Khromeychuk argued that the absence of a Ukrainian state for generations forced citizens to learn that the rule of law must be actively defended. This has resulted in a powerful “civic nationalism” that transcends ethnic and linguistic lines—uniting Crimean Tatars, Jews, Romanis, and others around shared values rather than bloodlines. This multi-ethnic unity serves as a vital blueprint for other democracies facing internal polarization. Democracy is thus presented as a continuous act of agency, where the defense of the state is synonymous with the defense of individual dignity.
The Sovereignty of Hope vs. Hopelessness
The dialogue explored a provocative tension between hope and the concept of “hopelessness as power.” Khromeychuk referenced Aboriginal writer Chelsea Watego, who rejects hope as a tool that can lead to passivity, favoring instead a form of “sovereignty” found when one has nothing left to lose. Bishop Boris Gudziak provided an antinomic counter-argument, suggesting that replacing hope with sovereignty is an “elite thing” for the strong, whereas hope is the essential virtue of the powerless. Khromeychuk synthesized these views, suggesting that whether framed as hope or agency, the ultimate tool for survival is the refusal to be passive. “Hopelessness” becomes a potent instrument that rejects the “luxury” of despair in favor of immediate, necessary action.
Conclusion: The Humanities as a Document of Rupture
The arts and humanities serve as a “document of rupture” in times of genocidal war. Khromeychuk cited the unfinished work of Victoria Amelina, a writer and war crimes investigator killed in a 2023 missile strike. Amelina’s final manuscript, Looking at Women Looking at War, exists as a fragmented collection of notes and tables—a visceral testament to the intent to destroy Ukrainian culture. These “unfinished” works are symbols of a society that continues to speak through its wounds, reminding us that witnessing is not a passive observation but a transformative act of resistance.