Memorial Service Speech at the Ukrainian Catholic University, February 21, 2014
We gathered to honor the memory of our lecturer and colleague Bohdan Solchanyk. He was born July 25, 1985. At the time when a sniper’s bullet found him on the Maidan he was 28.
Other dates of his short but vibrant life can be found on the website of our UCU department: a bachelor’s degree in history, a master’s degree in sociology, both obtained at the Ivan Franko National University of Lviv; an unfinished doctorate in Warsaw. Many conferences in Ukraine and abroad. Several research scholarships. Summer school in Vilnius and the Lavriv Monastery. Courses for students at UCU.
We would not wish, however, for the memory of Bohdan to be reduced to these dry facts. We want to honor him for who he was to us. Therefore, we asked all those who knew him, who studied with him, taught him or was taught by him, to write their memories of him. We have already received some memories, and by the end of the day we expect to have more. Let me read fragments of some of them and share my own.
I remember him from 2004. He had enrolled in the Interdisciplinary Individual Humanitarian Studies Program (IIHS) – a program organized by the Ukrainian Catholic University and the Lviv National University, in close collaboration with the University of Warsaw. This program is very competitive: Only the best of the best are accepted, and the number of those who apply is always higher than those who can participate. So the fact that Bohdan was accepted already says a lot about him.
But that’s not all of it. He applied a year later than was normally accepted. Under the rules, we take only those who have completed their first year at university. Bohdan was a year older, and thus did not qualify, but he still came for an interview and answered so well that we, the commissioners, decided to make an exception for him.
Because he really was exceptional. Of all his traits I remember his smile the most. It had some kind of shyness that is rarely found among people, especially young people. He smiled as if he knew more than he could afford to say. I imagined that people whose good fortune bestows early wisdom smile this way.
His friend Ivanka Rudkevych, also a student of the IIHS program, wrote the same thing independently: “I knew Bohdan – he was always smiling – which is something I immediately remembered about him. Once when I was in Warsaw, I went to the library, preoccupied with some problems. I see a familiar face. But I go on, because we didn’t really know each other. But Bohdan approaches me and says ‘Hey! How are you?’ And just like that: No pride or implications. Simple and sincere. And he smiled. For some reason I remembered this…”
Libraries and smiles – this is not a coincidence. I often saw Bohdan in the academic library of the the Lviv University and in our library – and later when he was in Poland I saw him in the library of the Warsaw University. Formal education was not enough for him, and so he studied a lot on his own.
I remember him from the presentation of a book by Leszek Kolakowski, which was organized by his friend Yuriy Kucheriavyi in the cafe Kabinet. I remembered him because he was the only one present who asked me a question that I could not answer.
I think that his appearance at the presentation was not accidental. Bohdan had sympathy for the left, even if they were former leftists. I received a letter from Anastasiya Riabchuk, a former master’s student of ours. As it turns out, I actually introduced her to Bohdan Solchanyk here at UCU. She remembers her last meeting with Bohdan, on the Maidan in Kyiv in late December, when she returned from Johannesburg. She told him about Africa and the translation of Bourdieu, Bohdan talked about organizing trips around Western Ukraine, his dissertation, teaching at the Ukrainian Catholic University, his girlfriend. They remembered hiking in the Crimean Mountains and meetings in Warsaw. They criticized the Right Sector, which a few days earlier had attacked them on the Maidan, calling them “commies” and “provocateurs” for posters with socioeconomic and feminist slogans. They laughed at how students drove Mykhalchyshyn from the stage. “Look at the lovely people on the Maidan, at their solidarity – we need to be with these people, we must fight for this country,” Bohdan said optimistically about the Maidan. She said that she was always amazed by his optimism and faith, his ability to filter out external irritants and insignificant obstacles by focusing on what he felt was really important.
Nastia wrote from Johannesburg, South Africa, where she is for her research. In the morning I received condolences on the death of Bohdan from my Swiss colleagues, for whom he worked as part of a joint research project. And in Warsaw, in the church on Miodowa Street, a memorial service will be held for Bohdan, which will be attended by his Polish colleagues, Ukrainian students and graduate students who like him study in Warsaw.
I would like you to draw your attention to this geography: Johannesburg in South African, Swiss St. Galle, doctoral studies in Warsaw. I’m afraid that in Ukraine there are very few historians and social scientists who have such extensive contacts as Bohdan. And in his case, we are talking about a man who was not even 30! From the perspective of the academic field of history, where scholars ripen very slowly, it is very young, almost child’s age.
Therefore, we can now only imagine how far he would have made it in his academic career. Foreign scholars would have learned his name by heart to pronounce it correctly at international conferences. His list of publications would have been extensive and rich in important works. His students and especially the female students would have sought him out during breaks between classes. His colleagues in the department and faculty would have sought his advice. He would have had a well-established life and well-deserved recognition.
None of this will ever happen. A bullet ended his life.
He was shot by a sniper, who was defending Yanukovych’s regime. We call this regime criminal. But now as never before we see its crime: it kills the best that we have. They shot at people of all ages, even at the minors. They shot indiscriminately at boys and men, girls and women. But above all they shot at their future. At young people like Bohdan Solchanyk who could strongly associate Ukraine with the outside world. At a generation that could end the legacy of artificial isolation and provincialism, in which Ukraine was artificially destined by its northern neighbor.
When I was preparing my speech, a friend sent me a Russian video on Youtube about the “forceful seizure of Ukraine by the West” and how “hired soldiers from the U.S. and Germany are making a revolution in Ukraine.” I imagined to myself how the “hired soldier of the West” Bohdan Solchanyk, critic of Mykhalchyshyn, with a copies of books by Kolakowski and Bourdieu, is storming the democratically elected and law-abiding (as Kremlin says) government of Yanukovych.
Bohdan Soldchanyk was truly an agent of the West – but not in the sense that the Russian propagandists write about. This West is the Europe of thinkers and artists who do not recoil in the face of death. They despise death, because they know that there are things more valuable and timeless. This is the Europe of Socrates and St. Augustine, Boethius, and Jan Hus, Albert Camus and Marc Bloch. The day before yesterday Bohdan Solchanyk joined this spiritual Europe.
I cannot think of a better way to honor the memory of Bohdan Solchanyk than to quote the words of a man who stood at the origins of European civilization – words that were uttered in a situation similar to ours. I’m talking about Pericles’s “Funeral Oration” for those who died for the freedom of their city-republic:
“The freedom which we enjoy in our government extends also to our ordinary life. There, far from exercising a jealous surveillance over each other, we do not feel called upon to be angry with our neighbour for doing what he likes…
So died these men as became Athenians. You, their survivors, must determine to have as unfaltering a resolution in the field, though you may pray that it may have a happier issue. …You must yourselves realize the power of Athens, and feed your eyes upon her from day to day, till love of her fills your hearts; and then, when all her greatness shall break upon you, you must reflect that it was by courage, sense of duty, and a keen feeling of honour in action that men were enabled to win all this…
For heroes have the whole earth for their tomb; and in lands far from their own, where the column with its epitaph declares it, there is enshrined in every breast a record unwritten with no tablet to preserve it, except that of the heart. These take as your model and, judging happiness to be the fruit of freedom and freedom of valour, never decline the dangers of war… And surely, to a man of spirit, the degradation of cowardice must be immeasurably more grievous than the unfelt death which strikes him in the midst of his strength and patriotism!”
Memories of Bohdan Solchanyk
I always knew that Bohdan was a holy man, for he was not indifferent and principled in everything he did. I always had the feeling that in this world he knew more than others. Not just knew but understood. And this was the source of his strength that extended to all his words, actions, people who were nearby…
I often smile when remember how we first saw each. This was before the IIHS program in the Drahomanov Library. He could always be found there. I stood in line for a book, and thought who is that bad-mannered guy who is cutting the line? He thought the same about me. We exchanged polite reproaches. Then it turned out that there were in fact two lines…
And his eyes were always deep and bright – exactly like he was himself. Everyone remembers Bohdan’s eyes! Wisdom and peace could always be found there. And love. He loved people, he loved what he did, he loved his country. And we loved him!
Iryna Patronyk, graduate from the IIHS program, 2009.
I met Bodya during the events of 2004. We were together in PORA. A memory – I never saw this person without a sincere smile on his face. Often just his eyes were smiling – with kindness, inner light. One could always turn to Bodya in any mood. He always had such a bright, positive aura, energy from which a good mood multiplied and a bad mood went away. I hadn’t seen him in a long time. But the news of his death was just shocking. He’s one of a million who doesn’t have even one dark memory. Bodya was the true bearer of the light of God, so I’m sure that he is now in the gentle arms of our Father…
Luba Yeremicheva, PORA activist in 2004, Kherson
Wlasciwie nie pamietam dokladnie, kiedy poznalam Bohdana, ale musialo tobyc rowno 10 lat temu, gdy w ramach nieoficjalnej, nielegalnej i nigdy potem nie powtorzonej wymiany studenckiej przyjechalam na studia do Lwowa – nanowo powstaly lwowski MIHUS. Ten rok byl dla mnie wielka przygoda i poczatkiem moich naukowych przygod z Ukraina. Wszystko to dzieki atmosferze lwowskiegoMIHUSa, ktora tworzyl rowniez Bohdan.
Kilka lat temu Bohdan zorganizowal razem z innymi absolwentami lwowskiego MISHu szkole letnia dla MIHUSowcow – bezpieniedzy, grantow i wsparcia, w starym klasztorze w Lawrowie, w ktorym za czasow sowieckich miescilsie szpital psychiatryczny, a ktory wtedy wlasnie zaczal sie odradzac. Prowadzilam tam wowczas warsztaty z historii mowionej. Zapamietalam te kilka dni w Lawrowie jako czas najbardziej inspirujacych intelektualnie rozmow i dyskusji – i znow, Bohdan byl dusza tegо przedsiewziecia. Pamietam jego zaangazowanie w organizacje calosci – a rzecznie byla latwa! – jego optymizm, pelna wsparcia obecnosc, madre uwagi podczas naszych akademickich i nieakademickich dyskusji o historii, pamieci, lokalnej tozsamosci…
Dzis, gdyotworzylammaila z wiadomoscia o jegosmierci, odkopalam na swoim twardym dysku zdjecia Bohdana z tamtego lata. Patrzenanie i wciaz nie moge uwierzyc, ze on nie zyje. Jeszcze w sierpniu pomagal mi znalezc rozmowcow we Lwowie do mojego nowego projektu badawczego. Jeszcze z tych kontaktow nieskorzystalam, moze w tymroku, gdy pojade do Starego Sambora, usiade z tymi ludzmi i powiem im: Bohdan nie zyje. To tez byla jego cecha charakterystyczna: zawsze pomagal…
Siedze sobie bezpiecznie i komfortowo w Waszyngtonie, setki kilometrow od Kijowa, i czuje sie tak strasznie bezsilna. To, co moge stad zrobic, to pamietac, modlicsie, mowic o tym, co sie dzieje na Ukrainie.
Dr. Anna Wylegała, Warszawa-Waszyngton,
I didn’t know Bohdan very well. We both studied at IIHS. You know how it happens, when you just know someone by face. This is how I knew Bohdan – he was always smiling – which is something I immediately remembered about him. Once when I was in Warsaw, I went to the library, preoccupied with some problems. I see a familiar face. But I go on, because we didn’t really know each other. But Bohdan approaches me and says “Hey! How are you?” And just like that: no pride or implications. Simple and sincere. And he smiled. For some reason I remembered this…his sincerity…He is in heaven with the Lord.
Ivanka Rudakevych, graduate of IIHS program
I did not know Bohdan Solchanyk, but I know him. This is the man who taught me to read.
Entering my first year at Ivan Franko University, I signed up to the library (as did each student at the time). Once when I went there I noticed I nice guy who was reading something.
The second time I saw him with a pile of books. He intrigued me. I started to go to the library more often. And not just to go, but to read! To see what he was reading, and compare it to what I was reading. He read a ton. A bunch of my friends knew him and they told me that he is a history student and that it is normal to read so much. Every time I went to the library, I tried to imitate him in reading, by reading a lot of books. He taught me to read (without knowing it).
…and today a memorial service for him…he died…he was killed in Kyiv, where he defended the values that he found in those thousands of books.
Marichka Melnyk, graduate of the Faculty of History of the Ivan Franko National University of Lviv.
“Nastya, what are you doing in Johannesburg? Why don’t you write? Don’t you know what is happening in Kyiv, do you not care how we are, whether we are okay?” my mother wrote me in an indignant letter the morning of November 19. I am worried and interested, but so far from home it is hard to follow the news, it is difficult to understand what is happening. The Internet here is bad, in remote parts of Zambia and Mozambique there is no Internet at all. In the last month in Africa I made an effort to find an Internet cafe once every two days even just for ten minutes so that I could tell my parents that I’m okay. On February 18, when the violence escalated in Kyiv, our neighborhood in Johannesburg was without electricity all day. The news came abruptly and as if from another world. And the short message from Twitter about the death of Bohdan in the right corner on the Ukrayinska Pravda website during lunch on February 20 I may have not seen at all if I had checked the Internet an hour earlier or later. I cannot describe how shocked I was. Can it really be true? How could this have happened?
With trembling hands I typed in Bohdan’s name in Google, looked for some additional information on Facebook, read the latest emails I had received from Bohdan, and could not believe it. Events that seemed to be taking place so far away I suddenly felt physically: my heart was pounding, my head was spinning, my hands were shaking. Events that seemed so unclear were surprisingly clear and apparent, all the discussion about the role of the right-wing, liberals, opposition leaders, the search for a “strategy” became simply irrelevant, and what was left was only the people and the criminal regime, only friends who are rebuilding destroyed barricades and snipers who are shooting at them. Bohdan did not attack, was not throwing stones at the police, was not holding a weapon, so the authorities cannot say that he was accidentally killed in self-defense. The death of Bohdan finally showed me the true face of the criminal regime, ready to kill its citizens in cold blood, calling us all terrorists.
In late December, I met Bohdan on the Maidan. I invited him to drink some tea, to keep warm, to discuss political events, and to tell me about his personal life. I talked about Africa and the translation of Bourdieu, Bohdan talked about organizing trips around Western Ukraine, his dissertation, teaching at the Ukrainian Catholic University, his girlfriend. He mentioned hiking in the Crimean Mountains and meetings in Warsaw. We criticized the Right Sector, which a few days earlier had attacked us on the Maidan, calling us “commies” and “provocateurs” for posters with socioeconomic and feminist slogans. We laughed at how students drove Mykhalchyshyn from the stage. “Look at the lovely people on the Maidan, at their solidarity – we need to be with these people, we must fight for this country,” Bohdan said optimistically about the Maidan. I was always amazed by his optimism and faith, his ability to filter out external irritants and insignificant obstacles by focusing on what he felt was really important.
I was introduced to Bohdan by Yaroslav Hrytsak, who said he was a very intelligent and interesting researcher. We had a lot to talk about as colleagues, asked each other about our research, about books we read, he always came to presentations of our magazine in Lviv and expressed his support, although he did not always share our political views. “When so many people are disillusioned and passive, all manifestations of a political views should be welcomed, even if you do not entirely agree with the views or methods. People really change when they take to the streets, make posters, write letters to the government, issue their own newspapers and magazines, when they become aware of their interests and their rights.” When he spoke like this, I knew that he was much more than a colleague. Bohdan was a friend on whom I could always rely, he was honest, ready to defend his views, but he also always respected the views of his opponents.
Perhaps my words sound too emotional. When a person dies for his political views, it can be too easy to turn him into a martyr and hero. I recently visited the Hector Pieterson Museum in Soweto – a neighborhood in the south-west of Johannesburg, where under apartheid the black population had to live. Nelson Mandela was from there. He knew from his own experience what it meant to have no access to quality education and medicine, to be restricted from traveling in your own country just because you’re black. On June 16, 1976, school children in Soweto protested against the teaching of Afrikaans – the language of the colonizers. “Afrikaans stinks!” they cried, which maybe was just as politically incorrect as slogans on the Maidan. Of course, the problem was not in Afrikaans but in the education system that offered no prospects to black children. Police opened fire on them. According to official figures, 176 people were killed; unofficial sources said there were about seven hundred victims. A photograph of a student holding the body of the dying thirteen-year-old Hector Pieterson spread around the whole world, and the horrors of apartheid could no longer be hidden. But in the museum, on the wall next to the photo, his sister’s words say: “Hector was not a hero, as people are trying to make him out to be, he was a normal kid who was hit by a stray bullet – one of thousands that were fired by the police at the students.” The same can be said of Bohdan. He was not a hero, he was an ordinary person, like all the other people that were on the Maidan that day. And how much I would like to see such people live in our country and on our planet, so that there were as many of them as possible and so that they were not killed by “stray” bullets.
Anastasiya Riabchuk, senior lecturer, Faculty of Social Sciences and Social Technologies at the National University of Kyiv-Mohyla Academy, Master of Philosophy, Cambridge University, 2006; Master of History, Ukrainian Catholic University, 2008
Yaroslav Hrytsak.