Process Essay
How has the political and cultural structure of Soviet Ukraine impacted the everyday life of a Jewish family in Ozarintsy?
In small a corner of the world during the second half of the 20th century, political, social, and economic oppression reigned on a tiny village, insignificant to those who did not live in it. Amidst the continuation of new forms of Leninism and the rise of anti-semitism, the inhabitants tried to carry on their peasant lifestyles, while simultaneously resisting the forces that bound them.
The majority of my family is from the small village of Ozarintsy of the Vinnysts’ka oblast, in the region of Mogilev Poldolskiy. It was, and remains, a village of modest means filled with working peasants—the humble shoemakers, blacksmiths, and bakers. Many generations have lived and died in this small portion of Eastern Europe. The region has known many rulers—Moldovans, Turks, Rumanian and German occupation, the Russian Tsar, and the Communist Revolutionaries. To this day, Ukraine’s independence is highly contested, especially in light of Putin’s recent annexation of Crimea to Russia. Regardless of the ruler, however, to my family, the area will always be known as a klein shtetl—Yiddish for a small town with a large Jewish population. By 1897, the city was approximately half Jewish with a total population of about 32,440. Mogilev Podolski is believed to be by some as “the last Jewish city in the [former] Soviet Union.” (Jordan) This small area has a rich history for many people, even if only those who lived in the area have heard the name “Mogilev” and the thousands of stories that took place in this part of the world’s breadbasket.
My parents were born in the early sixties into the world of a Socialist Ukraine. A year apart, they both began school at the age of 7, and would remain with the same classmates for ten years. While American children were singing “Ring Around the Rosie”, my parents and the children of the USSR were learning a very different kind of nursery rhyme.
I am a little girl
I don’t go to school
I never saw Lenin
But I love him already!
In some nursery rhymes, Lenin is referred to as “Uncle Lenin”, and he teaches children simple lessons. For example, in another short and catchy tune, Lenin says, “Always listen to your mother!” Although lost in translation, the USSR's propaganda strategy is clearly seen through the verses parents and schoolteachers taught to children.
School was not just an academic institution, it was the vehicle for the program called the “All-Union Leninist Communist League of Youth.” Though it was clearly a way to instill patriotism and ideology, many former Soviets look back at their education with fondness as the place they grew up, made lifelong friends, and explored themselves. Once they reached the third grade, my mother and father received the title of “Oktyabryonok” or “Little Octobrist” and a star-shaped pin with a picture of a curly-haired, school-aged Lenin. The title stems from the month of October in 1917, when the Communist government replaced the provisional government. The next ranking was reached around fourth grade, when my parents were able to join the “Young Pioneers”, which awarded them a thin red scarf to be worn along with the everyday uniform.
After the Pioneers was the Komsomol, yet another layer of what was “primarily a political organ for spreading Communist teaching and preparing future members of the Communist Party” from the ages of 14 to 28. At the end of the process, one could become a full-fledged official Communist. My father never wanted to be a communist, always quietly harboring hatred for the structure of the government, but knew that without that title, there was little hope for a decent life. No communist affiliation meant no scholarships and no jobs. So, he joined the Communist Party and married my mother under a statue of Lenin.
By this time, the Soviet Union had already faced the famines of Stalin. My grandmother's generation had endured persecution and near-death in the Holocaust. My mother's generation grew up in the era of Leonid Brezhnev in the 60s and 70s, followed by the chief of the KGB, Yuri Andropov, in the 90s. Brezhnev often spoke positively of Stalin and his policies. Under both rulers, political dissent faced harsh punishment. For example, Yuri Daniel and Andrei Sinyavsky faced six years of jail and hard labor for "anti-Soviet activities." For many living in the USSR, this trial helped spark a dissident movement.
However, the trial of Daniel and Sinyavsky was not an isolated incident. Those who spoke out too loudly were often either sentenced to prison for an obscure charge or deported. Jews in particular were a target of discrimination by the state. Especially during Brezhnev’s regime, popular culture “tolerated expressions of anti-Semitism.” (Zickel) Writers, artists, musicians, political figures—those of Jewish origin were under constant scrutiny and suspicion. The education system was permeated with anti-Semitism as well. By 1980, “the percentage of secondary school graduates admitted to universities had dropped to only two-thirds of the 1960 figure.” (Zickel) Fewer students from peasant families were able to attend college. Students from professional families dominated, forming an “educated elite” that was able to use cultural superiority to “influence admissions procedures.” (Zickel) Thus, my mother was not accepted to a university that she was highly qualified for until she found someone to bribe.
The village of Ozarintsy was no stranger to government oppression. Although the ideology of Marx demanded economic equality, the reality was that those with connections to trade were much better off. The supermarkets in Ozarintsy were often completely empty. This could have to do with Krushchev's economic policies that favored industrial production at the expense of the agriculture market. In small villages that rely on agricultural production, those policies hit people like my father hard. He was your typical esident of Ozarintsy. He lived in a small shack-like building with only the bare necessities. One it got dark, his family needed a flashlight to get to the outhouse. My mother was luckier. With a father involved in wholesale trade in the black market, she was able to afford the luxury of indoor plumbing. The government knew of my grandfather's involvement in the black market, but allowed him to keep illegally selling goods as long as the government got a chunk of the profit too.
Some people on my mother's side of the family, the Pruzhanskys, were able to get to America before the strict immigration policies trapped everyone inside. It was extremely difficult to leave the USSR, with only about 4,000 people managing to leave between 1960 and 1970. As a result, the term "refusenik" came about to refer to people who were denied permission to leave, especially Soviet Jews. The government often gave no explanation for visa denials. The first time my was about to purchase tickets to leave, my grandfather's employers detained and questioned him. They gave him an ultimatum or staying in the USSR or arrest. My entire family stayed behind, planning to remain in Ukraine for another year and then try again. Immigration policies got stricter, and my family waited ten years. These stories are not uncommon. Benjamin Bogomolny made it into the Guinness Book of World Records as "most patient" because he waited twenty years from 1966 to 1968 to get permission to leave the USSR.
My mother’s relatives in America were able to send my mother packages that contained gifts such as record players and Western clothing. However, these packages were often checked by Soviet security that didn't allow Western goods to come in. The government coerced my grandfather to sign a paper claiming he refuses to accept anymore package from America. The standard line of reasoning was that it was simply unacceptable to accept packages from the capitalists. It was my grandfather's duty to refuse them. After all, what more could he need in the best nation in the world, the same nation with empty shelves in the supermarket?
Government threats and propaganda didn’t stop many people from learning about the outside world. There were radio shows called “Voice of America” and “Svobodnaya Evropa” (A Free Europe) that were blocked; however, at certain times, those who knew how could tweak their short-wave radios and listen in to underground reports. Soviet magazines would warn that those who listened to this radio station were bad, untrustworthy people. The contents of the secret radio shows would be discussed in hushed voices. Standard Russian television showed images of homeless people and drug addicts as representations of capitalist countries. Those who listened to the underground media searched for a truth that could not be found in the two government regulated television channels.
The government strayed more and more from Marx’s dream and dived further into totalitarianism. Political censorship even found its way into music. Since the 1930s, political regimentation often crushed musical expression. However, dissenting artists tried to fight against the "conservative mood of Ukrainian composition" through the Kiev Avant-garde movement. In Ozarintsy however, the new fad was Europop. The government allowed for some Italian and French music to trickle in; thus, everyone in the city knew the names Joe Dassin, Frank Duval, Mireille Matheiu, and Toto Cutugno. Occasionally, these artists would even tour the big cities of the USSR. Similarly, alongside Russian propaganda films, some European films became part of the mainstream. Indian Bollywood films also became an integral element of the culture as well. My mother and father would always go to the shabby local theater to watch the newest Bollywood films.
However, going to the theater wasn’t always a simple endeavor for everyone. A decree was passed in 1961 called “On Strengthening the Struggle with Persons Avoiding Socially Useful Work and Leading an Anti-Social, Parasitic Way of Life.” It is believed that in 1961 alone, “according to some estimates, some 200,000 individuals were exiled to ‘specially designated places’” often because of their status of “Having No Specific Occupation”. The KGB had the right to enter a theater in the middle of a movie, and question anyone who should’ve been at work during those hours. If someone was found to be unemployed, they could easily be arrested. Today, my parents prefer to push aside the memories about the secret police, and focus on the memories of watching their favorite Indian actors.
My mother and father’s generation was relatively lucky. The worst of it had passed - the mass destruction of synagogues, pogroms, purges, and two million victims of genocide of Jewish people that occurred in the early 20th century. The mass diasporas, the families torn apart, the constant fear. Much of that didn’t suddenly disappear during the latter half of the century - a flickering anxiety remained. The Jews still carried the psychological burden of the constant reminder that a large portion of society found them inferior second class citizens. This tended to make my family cling even more strongly to their culture and faith in a society.
It took an entire year for my father to convince his parents to let him to move America with my mother. Finally in 1989, when there was an opening for immigration, my mother, father, and brother flew to a land where they knew none of the language, and little of the culture. Leaving most of their possessions behind, they barely scrapped together enough money to afford a place to live. About a year later, after the collapse of the Soviet Union, my father's parents were begging him to help them come to America because of the turmoil the sudden shift in political and economic ideology created. Most of my family now lives in New York City, where they continue to reminiscence about the difficult, yet somehow simpler times. They'll always scoff at the political institutions and mutter angrily about the regime they lived under. Yet under the anger, there is always a softness, even a longing, for Ozarintsy's narrow roads, samovars on tables, and the closeness of a community. I collect these stories and the details of everyday life to ensure the family history will never be lost.
In small a corner of the world during the second half of the 20th century, political, social, and economic oppression reigned on a tiny village, insignificant to those who did not live in it. Amidst the continuation of new forms of Leninism and the rise of anti-semitism, the inhabitants tried to carry on their peasant lifestyles, while simultaneously resisting the forces that bound them.
The majority of my family is from the small village of Ozarintsy of the Vinnysts’ka oblast, in the region of Mogilev Poldolskiy. It was, and remains, a village of modest means filled with working peasants—the humble shoemakers, blacksmiths, and bakers. Many generations have lived and died in this small portion of Eastern Europe. The region has known many rulers—Moldovans, Turks, Rumanian and German occupation, the Russian Tsar, and the Communist Revolutionaries. To this day, Ukraine’s independence is highly contested, especially in light of Putin’s recent annexation of Crimea to Russia. Regardless of the ruler, however, to my family, the area will always be known as a klein shtetl—Yiddish for a small town with a large Jewish population. By 1897, the city was approximately half Jewish with a total population of about 32,440. Mogilev Podolski is believed to be by some as “the last Jewish city in the [former] Soviet Union.” (Jordan) This small area has a rich history for many people, even if only those who lived in the area have heard the name “Mogilev” and the thousands of stories that took place in this part of the world’s breadbasket.
My parents were born in the early sixties into the world of a Socialist Ukraine. A year apart, they both began school at the age of 7, and would remain with the same classmates for ten years. While American children were singing “Ring Around the Rosie”, my parents and the children of the USSR were learning a very different kind of nursery rhyme.
I am a little girl
I don’t go to school
I never saw Lenin
But I love him already!
In some nursery rhymes, Lenin is referred to as “Uncle Lenin”, and he teaches children simple lessons. For example, in another short and catchy tune, Lenin says, “Always listen to your mother!” Although lost in translation, the USSR's propaganda strategy is clearly seen through the verses parents and schoolteachers taught to children.
School was not just an academic institution, it was the vehicle for the program called the “All-Union Leninist Communist League of Youth.” Though it was clearly a way to instill patriotism and ideology, many former Soviets look back at their education with fondness as the place they grew up, made lifelong friends, and explored themselves. Once they reached the third grade, my mother and father received the title of “Oktyabryonok” or “Little Octobrist” and a star-shaped pin with a picture of a curly-haired, school-aged Lenin. The title stems from the month of October in 1917, when the Communist government replaced the provisional government. The next ranking was reached around fourth grade, when my parents were able to join the “Young Pioneers”, which awarded them a thin red scarf to be worn along with the everyday uniform.
After the Pioneers was the Komsomol, yet another layer of what was “primarily a political organ for spreading Communist teaching and preparing future members of the Communist Party” from the ages of 14 to 28. At the end of the process, one could become a full-fledged official Communist. My father never wanted to be a communist, always quietly harboring hatred for the structure of the government, but knew that without that title, there was little hope for a decent life. No communist affiliation meant no scholarships and no jobs. So, he joined the Communist Party and married my mother under a statue of Lenin.
By this time, the Soviet Union had already faced the famines of Stalin. My grandmother's generation had endured persecution and near-death in the Holocaust. My mother's generation grew up in the era of Leonid Brezhnev in the 60s and 70s, followed by the chief of the KGB, Yuri Andropov, in the 90s. Brezhnev often spoke positively of Stalin and his policies. Under both rulers, political dissent faced harsh punishment. For example, Yuri Daniel and Andrei Sinyavsky faced six years of jail and hard labor for "anti-Soviet activities." For many living in the USSR, this trial helped spark a dissident movement.
However, the trial of Daniel and Sinyavsky was not an isolated incident. Those who spoke out too loudly were often either sentenced to prison for an obscure charge or deported. Jews in particular were a target of discrimination by the state. Especially during Brezhnev’s regime, popular culture “tolerated expressions of anti-Semitism.” (Zickel) Writers, artists, musicians, political figures—those of Jewish origin were under constant scrutiny and suspicion. The education system was permeated with anti-Semitism as well. By 1980, “the percentage of secondary school graduates admitted to universities had dropped to only two-thirds of the 1960 figure.” (Zickel) Fewer students from peasant families were able to attend college. Students from professional families dominated, forming an “educated elite” that was able to use cultural superiority to “influence admissions procedures.” (Zickel) Thus, my mother was not accepted to a university that she was highly qualified for until she found someone to bribe.
The village of Ozarintsy was no stranger to government oppression. Although the ideology of Marx demanded economic equality, the reality was that those with connections to trade were much better off. The supermarkets in Ozarintsy were often completely empty. This could have to do with Krushchev's economic policies that favored industrial production at the expense of the agriculture market. In small villages that rely on agricultural production, those policies hit people like my father hard. He was your typical esident of Ozarintsy. He lived in a small shack-like building with only the bare necessities. One it got dark, his family needed a flashlight to get to the outhouse. My mother was luckier. With a father involved in wholesale trade in the black market, she was able to afford the luxury of indoor plumbing. The government knew of my grandfather's involvement in the black market, but allowed him to keep illegally selling goods as long as the government got a chunk of the profit too.
Some people on my mother's side of the family, the Pruzhanskys, were able to get to America before the strict immigration policies trapped everyone inside. It was extremely difficult to leave the USSR, with only about 4,000 people managing to leave between 1960 and 1970. As a result, the term "refusenik" came about to refer to people who were denied permission to leave, especially Soviet Jews. The government often gave no explanation for visa denials. The first time my was about to purchase tickets to leave, my grandfather's employers detained and questioned him. They gave him an ultimatum or staying in the USSR or arrest. My entire family stayed behind, planning to remain in Ukraine for another year and then try again. Immigration policies got stricter, and my family waited ten years. These stories are not uncommon. Benjamin Bogomolny made it into the Guinness Book of World Records as "most patient" because he waited twenty years from 1966 to 1968 to get permission to leave the USSR.
My mother’s relatives in America were able to send my mother packages that contained gifts such as record players and Western clothing. However, these packages were often checked by Soviet security that didn't allow Western goods to come in. The government coerced my grandfather to sign a paper claiming he refuses to accept anymore package from America. The standard line of reasoning was that it was simply unacceptable to accept packages from the capitalists. It was my grandfather's duty to refuse them. After all, what more could he need in the best nation in the world, the same nation with empty shelves in the supermarket?
Government threats and propaganda didn’t stop many people from learning about the outside world. There were radio shows called “Voice of America” and “Svobodnaya Evropa” (A Free Europe) that were blocked; however, at certain times, those who knew how could tweak their short-wave radios and listen in to underground reports. Soviet magazines would warn that those who listened to this radio station were bad, untrustworthy people. The contents of the secret radio shows would be discussed in hushed voices. Standard Russian television showed images of homeless people and drug addicts as representations of capitalist countries. Those who listened to the underground media searched for a truth that could not be found in the two government regulated television channels.
The government strayed more and more from Marx’s dream and dived further into totalitarianism. Political censorship even found its way into music. Since the 1930s, political regimentation often crushed musical expression. However, dissenting artists tried to fight against the "conservative mood of Ukrainian composition" through the Kiev Avant-garde movement. In Ozarintsy however, the new fad was Europop. The government allowed for some Italian and French music to trickle in; thus, everyone in the city knew the names Joe Dassin, Frank Duval, Mireille Matheiu, and Toto Cutugno. Occasionally, these artists would even tour the big cities of the USSR. Similarly, alongside Russian propaganda films, some European films became part of the mainstream. Indian Bollywood films also became an integral element of the culture as well. My mother and father would always go to the shabby local theater to watch the newest Bollywood films.
However, going to the theater wasn’t always a simple endeavor for everyone. A decree was passed in 1961 called “On Strengthening the Struggle with Persons Avoiding Socially Useful Work and Leading an Anti-Social, Parasitic Way of Life.” It is believed that in 1961 alone, “according to some estimates, some 200,000 individuals were exiled to ‘specially designated places’” often because of their status of “Having No Specific Occupation”. The KGB had the right to enter a theater in the middle of a movie, and question anyone who should’ve been at work during those hours. If someone was found to be unemployed, they could easily be arrested. Today, my parents prefer to push aside the memories about the secret police, and focus on the memories of watching their favorite Indian actors.
My mother and father’s generation was relatively lucky. The worst of it had passed - the mass destruction of synagogues, pogroms, purges, and two million victims of genocide of Jewish people that occurred in the early 20th century. The mass diasporas, the families torn apart, the constant fear. Much of that didn’t suddenly disappear during the latter half of the century - a flickering anxiety remained. The Jews still carried the psychological burden of the constant reminder that a large portion of society found them inferior second class citizens. This tended to make my family cling even more strongly to their culture and faith in a society.
It took an entire year for my father to convince his parents to let him to move America with my mother. Finally in 1989, when there was an opening for immigration, my mother, father, and brother flew to a land where they knew none of the language, and little of the culture. Leaving most of their possessions behind, they barely scrapped together enough money to afford a place to live. About a year later, after the collapse of the Soviet Union, my father's parents were begging him to help them come to America because of the turmoil the sudden shift in political and economic ideology created. Most of my family now lives in New York City, where they continue to reminiscence about the difficult, yet somehow simpler times. They'll always scoff at the political institutions and mutter angrily about the regime they lived under. Yet under the anger, there is always a softness, even a longing, for Ozarintsy's narrow roads, samovars on tables, and the closeness of a community. I collect these stories and the details of everyday life to ensure the family history will never be lost.