Ukraine Through the Eyes of Jason Stanley

In this interview, Jason discusses his experience teaching at the Kyiv School of Economics and how it inspired and informed his new book. He also explores the connection between colonialism and fascism.

The conversation focuses on the types of nationalism, decolonisation of minds, European and American colonialist past, and the ways to counteract the victimhood of Russia.

The views and opinions expressed in this interview do not necessarily reflect the views or positions of Ukraїner.

I know you visited Ukraine for the first time in 2017, but later, you wanted to experience it professionally. How did you decide that you wanted to come and teach here?

Last year, I met Timothy Brick, the Dean of the Kyiv School of Economics, when he came to the United States. My work focuses on fascism and colonialism, and the opportunity to go to Ukraine during its being attacked by a fascist, imperialist, terrorist state was something I couldn’t resist. Experiencing the self-formation of democracy here is invaluable as a philosopher. I wanted to learn from Ukrainians as they created their own identity. Now, I feel like part of that identity creation. Every year when I return, I see how the people I met before advance, how they are helping to form Ukrainian identity, and how the things they were talking about a year ago are now part of Ukraine. So, I have to keep coming back.

How did the understanding that perhaps the students in your classroom in Ukraine would be experiencing the fascist colonial aggression you mentioned influence the topics and readings you chose for your class last summer and this year?

I was talking to Mariam Naiem (Ukrainian culturologist and researcher of decolonisation — ed.), who has influenced me a lot. I am also deeply influenced by the American Black intellectual tradition and the anti-colonial tradition of thinkers like Césaire and Fanon, as their work is very relevant to Ukraine’s current situation.

I wanted to teach the basics about the experience of colonialism and see their reactions to that literature. Europeans often focus on Europe, which is problematic. I view Europe as a genocidal, blood-soaked continent, and I question why anyone would aspire to be European. I wanted to discuss this with my students to show them what Europe has done and how people outside of Europe perceive it. I wanted to have that conversation because Ukrainians are undergoing experiences similar to those of colonised people outside of Europe.

I knew my approach would be provocative and might face backlash, but I was eager to hear their responses. I also knew that the material I was teaching would be unfamiliar to them, which promised a rich learning experience. At times, I worried that the content might be too intense for students experiencing similar struggles, but I believed in being provocative. You can’t teach effectively if you simply reinforce people’s existing beliefs. You need to provoke thought and discussion, sometimes challenging people and engaging in arguments. I wanted to learn from Ukrainians; the best way to do that was through spirited debate.

Did you gain a better understanding of why Ukrainians want to be part of Europe when you were in Ukraine? Why do you think Ukrainians have such admiration for Europe and see it as a synonym for democracy and freedom?

For example, Hungary is a very powerful country in Europe now, yet it lacks freedom and democracy. So, I needed to understand what people were talking about [when wanting to become European]. Europe is often associated with negative images, like immigrants drowning in the Mediterranean and Syrian refugees dying at the borders. Immigration is the number one topic in Europe right now, and Ukraine will need to address immigration as well. If Ukraine adopts the same attitudes towards immigration as some European countries, it will be a disaster.

While I understand admiration for Europe and the perception of it as the cradle of democracy, I believe this is incorrect. Ukraine should forge its own identity and values rather than look to Western Europe for those values.

How can Ukrainians be critical of Europe while advocating support?

People ask me about freedom’s values, “Why do you say Ukraine is a healthy democracy? Because there’s so much corruption. The institutions are corrupt.” In the United States, for example, some institutions may also be corrupt. But here, you can say whatever you want. Someone told me that Ukrainians are constantly arguing with each other rather than having one unified view. That’s democracy. In Russia, you can only have one view. The freedom to argue and hold different opinions is a hallmark of democracy.

Values like free speech, critical inquiry, and showing the world the difference between Ukrainian territories occupied by Russia and the rest of Ukraine are crucial. Demonstrating that you’re a vibrant democratic society where everyone is free to express their views is essential. This contrasts sharply with places where opponents are imprisoned and journalists are executed.

These democratic values are treasured even in countries sliding away from democracy, like mine and parts of Europe. Ukraine faces two wars: one against Russia and one within itself. The internal struggle to maintain and develop democratic values amidst external aggression is a significant challenge, but it also makes Ukraine’s democracy so vibrant and resilient.

What do you mean by the war within ourselves? From your experience here, how do you see Ukrainians figuring out their identity within society?

The “war within themselves” refers to the internal struggle Ukrainians face in defining their national identity. This involves negotiating who they will be as a society. From my experience in Ukraine, I’ve seen an open public debate about this identity, which is crucial. When I talk to Black Americans or LGBT people who are here, they often mention that things are improving and that people are becoming more tolerant. I’ve also noticed that young people I met a year ago, like yourself, are becoming more involved in shaping these identities.

This internal battle is significant, especially during wartime, as it can create negative forms of nationalism. For example, during conflict, some might resist immigration or cling to traditional values, questioning why they should change. However, it’s essential to navigate this without falling into the trap of bad nationalism, like that seen in organisations such as Hamas (in its Covenant of 1988, Hamas does not separate nationalism from religion and states that “The Movement’s program is Islam,” while the nationalistic idea is a devotion to a nation-state, not religion. Hamas is also recognised as a terrorist organisation by the EU, US, Canada, and Israel — ed.). Instead, Ukraine’s fight against fascism is a world-historical struggle that involves balancing different visions of the country.

Ukraine is already more tolerant of LGBT individuals than some European countries, like Hungary. The ongoing debate and involvement of diverse voices are crucial for Ukraine’s future. The beauty of the villages and folk dances represents part of Ukraine’s heritage, but the country’s identity must also include openness and tolerance as it continues to evolve.

On the topic of nationalism, there is a difference between offensive and defensive nationalism, like one is good, and another one is bad. How is Ukrainian nationalism perceived there?

Everyone’s talking about defensive versus offensive nationalism, but I think it’s a confused distinction. I see your influence and commend you for it, but I dislike the term “defensive nationalism” because it allows others to define you. Why do that? Create your own identity. Russia might call you fascists, but it’s clear you’re not a fascist nation. However, Ukrainian history has had fascist elements in its past, and you should discuss that openly, just as the United States must discuss slavery and indigenous genocide to be properly nationalist.

Some people in Ukraine challenged me during my lectures, claiming I’m not an American nationalist because I don’t focus on America’s achievements. They say America saved the world, but I point out that every few decades, the U.S. has committed atrocities against non-white people. Recognising these dark parts of our history makes me more of an American nationalist because it shows a commitment to understanding and acknowledging our full history.

Most Ukrainians in the United States are Jewish and still love Ukraine. Figures like Rabbi Schneerson, revered by millions of Jews, come from Ukraine. Acknowledging the multi-ethnic past and the darker aspects of Ukrainian nationalism, such as the pogroms and the slaughter of Poles and Jews, is crucial.

This isn’t about defensive nationalism but about constructing your own identity. In my class, many students claimed Ukraine had never done anything wrong, but such a mindset sets you up to repeat mistakes. Viewing yourself solely as a victim, like Israel often does, limits your ability to make necessary decisions, such as on immigration. A mature national identity requires acknowledging past wrongs and using that understanding to build a better future.

What were the main surprising takeaways from last year and this year of teaching at the Kyiv School of economics? What have you learned from Ukrainians that you hadn’t thought about before?

I came here expecting to find a fixed Ukrainian identity, but instead, I discovered a rapidly evolving one. Initially, the idea that Ukraine is a colony started as a radical view and has since become mainstream. Last year, some students said, “We’re not a colony. We’re not Africans.” This reflects the notion that Ukrainians see themselves as civilised, contrasting with the “savages” in conflict colonisation, based on the civilised versus savage distinction. I’ve also learned more about how Russia views itself and how Ukraine views itself in the current conflict.

I’ve returned and want to maintain a permanent connection due to the excitement surrounding young people shaping the future. These young people don’t have the rigid boundaries of the past and are actively involved in forming their identity. I can witness history in the making and participate in discussions, like on this podcast. This dynamism in Ukraine surprised me. You don’t find that in Poland, certainly not in Hungary, and not even in Germany, in my experience.

The term “defensive nationalism” is inadequate because it suggests victimhood, which is a terrible identity that might feed elements of Ukrainian fascism. The real energy here is about figuring out who you are as a nation, and it’s an exciting and ongoing process.

You mentioned that you also came to learn how Russia views itself. What exactly have you learned so far?

In my last lecture on The Politics of Language, I examined some of Putin’s speeches. Last year, in my course, we delved into the issue of the civilised/savages distinction, discussing how Russian culture, through figures like Dostoevsky and Tolstoy, has dominated, reflecting a bit of that distinction.

Recently, while teaching Putin’s speeches, I noticed he frequently uses the term “civilisational”. He often claims that Russia is defending Europe and civilisation. In his speeches, Putin frames anti-civilisation as encompassing LGBT rights, atheism, and non-traditional gender roles. In contrast, civilisation, according to him, involves rigid gender roles, women staying at home and having babies, going to church, and being patriotic. These, he argues, are the traditional values of Europe.

This perspective isn’t like European colonialism; it’s more akin to Nazism. Hitler claimed that Jews were behind LGBT rights, women’s equality, and other forms of what he called “anti-civilisation”. He divided people into three groups: Aryans, who created civilisation; those who did nothing (in his view, Ukrainians neither created nor destroyed civilisation); and Jews, who he believed were destroying civilisation.

Similarly, Putin views Ukrainian identity as anti-civilisation, asserting that Ukrainians are destroying traditional values with their freedoms. This isn’t just about erasing Ukrainian history, as in African colonialism, where Europeans tried to erase African history. While Russia does erase Ukrainian history, it’s also driven by a genocidal ideology. Putin’s rhetoric suggests that Ukrainian identity is so dangerous that it cannot be allowed to survive. This genocidal ideology parallels Hitler’s views on Jewish people, framing Ukrainians as a threat to civilisation that must be eradicated.

This realisation was significant for me. It shifted my understanding from seeing Russia’s actions as colonial to recognising them as genocidal, driven by a belief that Ukrainian identity must be destroyed because it poses a fundamental threat to what Putin defines as civilisation.

Do you see similarities in how other parts of European colonialism may manifest in what Russia does today? Is it essential that more people understand this comparison with what Hitler did?

Hitler wanted to kill every Jewish person in the world, regardless of their identity. It was a racial nationalism where Jews, even those who looked like everyone else, were the main enemy. Russian nationalism under Putin is not racial in the same way. Instead, Putin aims to eliminate Ukrainian culture and identity, leaving people alive but making them Russian. This differs from Hitler’s approach of dragging and killing two out of three European Jews in concentration camps.

Putin’s strategy involves torturing Ukrainians until they stop speaking their language, teaching them that there is only one history — Russian history — and making their children Russian. The Nazis didn’t take Jewish children to assimilate them; they gassed and shot them. This is cultural genocide, a classic form under Clause D of the Genocide Convention (Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide — ed.), but different from the genocide faced by the Jews.

While we must recognise these differences, we can still learn from the Holocaust. Each atrocity has its unique aspects: the Holocaust, antebellum slavery, and the Holodomor. These are all horrific events, and as an American, comparing the Holocaust to slavery is particularly sensitive. However, understanding these distinctions and similarities is crucial for comprehending the nature of genocides and cultural erasures.

In your book, “How Fascism Works”, you have a chapter called Victimhood, where you discuss how fascist politicians exploit victimhood and see equality as a threat. You didn’t specifically mention Russia as an example there. How is Russia using this concept of victimhood in its relationship with Ukraine or the broader context of this war?

Russia is almost a cartoonish example of this. The 2013 gay propaganda act in Russia made it illegal to represent LGBT relationships to anyone under 18, and they’ve since expanded it to make any representation of LGBT relationships illegal. They view themselves as the world’s defender of rigid gender roles. Women’s equality is seen as a “Western” invention, yet they claim to defend traditional European values.

This rhetoric is very similar to Nazi ideology, where LGBT rights, women’s rights, and certain types of art and books were labelled as decadent. Russia frequently talks about “parent one, parent two” terminology, which is central to their agenda. Every attack on LGBT rights or abortion is an attempt to limit freedoms, including women’s freedom to choose their sexuality and gender identity. They claim that democracy is a threat because it brings these freedoms, even though democracy allows people to live traditional lives if they choose.

LGBT people, who make up 10 to 20 percent of the population in any country, become a perfect scapegoat. Fascist movements need an internal enemy: liberals who promote immigration, LGBT rights, and women’s rights. This scapegoating is essential for fascism.

How have you observed the general narrative about Ukraine in the United States shifting, particularly among the left, where there’s been rhetoric suggesting that Ukraine is merely a puppet of the United States?

Every single Democratic congressperson (according to CNN, two democrats opposed the aid — ed.), including those on the far left, voted for Ukraine funding. On the other hand, half of the Republicans voted against it. I think there’s a misconception in Ukraine that the left is the enemy, perhaps a hangover from the Soviet past. In reality, the left is very supportive of Ukraine. For example, Rashida Tlaib was photographed with the Ukrainian flag, and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez voted for Ukrainian funding. Bernie Sanders is also very pro-Ukraine.

The real danger now is that support for Ukraine could become a left-right issue in the U.S., with the left being pro-Ukraine and the right being anti-Ukraine. This polarisation could be detrimental to Ukraine. A lot of the right likes Putin, and it’s not because of Russian propaganda; it’s due to their own agency.

How do you reconcile the fact that many left-wing individuals, who are deeply engaged in post-colonial studies and advocate for decolonising the mind, sometimes still question Ukraine’s agency and the recognition of the Holodomor as a genocide?

Victoria Amelina mentioned growing up without the concept of the Holocaust because the Soviet Union suppressed recognition of genocides, fearing it would lead to the acknowledgment of others, like the Holodomor. Once people recognise the Holodomor as a genocide, they start to see the broader historical context.

While I’ve encountered some on the left who believe Europe and NATO are encroaching on Russia’s borders and that Russia has the right to resist, I don’t consider these individuals truly left-wing. They often have a pro-Trump stance and see the real enemy as capitalism.

Many people believe that the choice between fascism and democracy in Russia hinges solely on the death of Putin and the fall of his regime. However, we Ukrainians, who have suffered from them for centuries, understand that the issue is far more complex. From your perspective, what is the way out for Russia from its current fascist imperialist statehood?

Oleksiy Radynski says, “Putin thinks that inside every Ukrainian is a Russian. But in fact, inside every Russian is a Ukrainian,” suggesting that the democratic spirit of Ukrainians, who frequently overthrow leaders they dislike, is what Putin truly fears. He fears Russians discovering the democratic success and happiness next door in Ukraine. Young people communicate with each other across countries. So, I’m guessing that young Ukrainian people play video games with young Russian people. And there is this communication where you’re like, ok, we’re just talking about… But young people worldwide are communicating with each other now. So, the hope is the young people.

Do you believe that for Russia to cease being a fascist imperial state, it needs to undergo a difficult decolonial breakup?

No, I think Russia needs to stop using its non-white population as cannon fodder in the Ukraine war. All of that has to end. While there are many reasons to be pessimistic about Russia — the imperialism and genocidal tendencies are deeply rooted, even evident in Pushkin’s time — we must still try to be hopeful. As Gramsci said, we need optimism of the will and pessimism of the intellect.

Ideally, Russia shouldn’t break up into a white country and a bunch of non-white countries. Instead, it should recognise that it’s a country with many ethnicities. White Russians and non-white Russians should be treated equally, not as expendable resources. If they reach that understanding, they might avoid wars like this.

Will they ever achieve this? I don’t know. It seems very far off. Despite being a multi-ethnic, multi-religious country, white Russians dominate the culture and politics, creating a hierarchical society reminiscent of the Jim Crow South rather than a true multi-ethnic, multi-religious democracy.

Moving away from Russia and back to Ukraine, I wanted to ask you specifically about your pledge to donate your salary from teaching courses at the Kyiv School of Economics. I believe it’s $30,000 for student scholarships.

Yes, it’s a Mercedes balance every year if you measure it that way.

And then there’s the $20,000 you donated to Come Back Alive, one of the biggest Ukrainian organisations supporting the military and doing so for years. We at Ukraїner have covered their work for over two years and joined their fundraiser campaigns. I believe part of your salary will be donated to their drone programs.

Yes, all the $20,000.

Many foreigners feel uncomfortable supporting the military specifically. You might meet people from abroad who say, “I want to support Ukraine, but I’m only going to donate to humanitarian causes.” Do you know where that discomfort originates? Did you have those hesitations yourself, and what made you decide to donate specifically to Come Back Alive?

I asked around about the best places to donate to. I consulted both Ukrainians and Americans who study Ukraine, and Come Back Alive consistently came up as a top recommendation. I had no issues with donating to the military. I wanted some of my salary to go to the military and some to college scholarships. I think it would be selfish to come here, learn from Ukrainians, and be part of this moment without doing all I can.

I was in Ukraine last year for two weeks and have many Ukrainian friends like yourself, so I understand the importance of the Ukrainian military and Armed Forces. I’m safe in Kyiv because of the Ukrainian Armed Forces. In a sense, I’m paying for my safety. Some people have never experienced being in a place where their safety directly depends on the military. That was a significant lesson for me: Whenever I’m here or take the train back, I think, “Thank you, Ukrainian Armed Forces”. I know you feel the same way.

In the United States, opposition to military funding can be strategic. For example, people who want the US to stop funding Israel might generalise their stance to avoid appearing antisemitic, saying the US shouldn’t give weapons to any country. I think that’s wrong. Ukraine needs weapons. I’m donating to both civil society initiatives and the military because, without the military, institutions like the Kyiv School of Economics would be wiped out.

I strongly believe in democratic institutions like universities. My positive teaching experience at the Kyiv School of Economics also motivated me. That’s why I donated to both the military and educational initiatives.

Please briefly talk about your upcoming book, which is based on your experience teaching here. Can you give us a synopsis?

My book is called “Erasing History”. It’s about how autocratic regimes consistently target educational institutions. Putin’s comment, “Wars are won by teachers,” inspired part of this exploration. While teaching about colonialism last year, I noticed the recurring importance of education in these discussions. This led me to focus on the systematic attacks on schools by autocratic regimes.

The book delves into how these attacks manifest in various contexts. In the United States, for instance, it’s becoming illegal to teach much of Black history and LGBT perspectives. Similarly, Russia’s Gay Propaganda Act restricts what can be taught in schools. “Erasing History” places a strong emphasis on Russia, which wasn’t as prominent in my previous book, “How Fascism Works”. I examine Russian textbooks with the help of a research assistant, revealing how Russia rewrites history. They describe the Holodomor as an administrative accident and frame their incursions into Georgia and Ukraine as support for separatist independence movements.

The book also looks at India, where textbooks are erasing the history of Muslims, claiming they were originally Hindus converted by imperialism. In the United States, I analyse how textbooks handle Black and Indigenous history. Overall, “Erasing History” exposes the global trend of rewriting history to support autocratic agendas.

How does your experience of teaching in Ukraine contribute to it?

Ukraine and Russia are major examples in this context. Unlike in my book, “How Fascism Works”, they are prime examples in “Erasing History”. I draw on insights from Victoria Amelina, Oleksiy Radynski, and other Ukrainian intellectuals, including what I learned from Ukrainians like yourself. Our classroom discussions, especially about Indigenous issues and decolonising the mind, significantly shaped the book.

Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o’s concept of decolonising the mind emerged as a central theme, highlighting that colonisation begins in schools. I also examined the textbooks used in the occupied Ukrainian territories, which serve as a central example of how education perpetuates colonialism. The book focuses on the role of schools in both colonial and decolonial processes.

My last question is, what’s your favourite place in Ukraine so far?

Well, I’ve only been to Kyiv, so I can’t answer that question broadly. I was planning to go to Kharkiv, but given the circumstances, I’m unsure if that would have been safe. The experience would likely have been quite harrowing. So, I can only speak about Kyiv.

Kyiv has a distinctive, relaxed atmosphere that I didn’t expect. I love the hipster vibe of the places I visit, especially the bars and restaurants. The Georgian food is good, particularly the khinkali. But what I enjoy most is hanging out in lively places where people are socialising, music is playing, and the atmosphere is vibrant.

I’m also very accustomed to my bomb shelter classroom. There are two aspects I’m dealing with in Ukraine: the intense wartime existence and the vibrant life in Kyiv. Wartime brings a unique intensity to discussions and connections, all under the protection of the Ukrainian forces.

As for the entire Ukraine, I’m not much of a village person; I prefer big cities. I’m a cosmopolitan at heart, and Kyiv fits that perfectly. It’s a lively, cosmopolitan city where people meet, go out, and engage in vibrant discussions over drinks. Democracies thrive in such environments, and Kyiv embodies that spirit. I love the city’s dynamic nature.