You're reading: In Lviv, the past comes alive in song on Sundays

LVIV, Ukraine – Every Sunday evening, the routine is the same: They gather quietly, shuffling together en masse until their presence is noticeable from a distance. In the middle of the crowd, a gap develops and the gaggle of humans opens up to form a wide circle. They exchange a few whispers and nod in agreement, and then they begin to sing.

In Lviv, this spontaneous celebration has become a tradition of sorts. Every Sunday, this large crowd, comprised mostly of pensioners, gathers near the monument to Ukrainian national poet Taras Shevchenko in the city’s center to sing national folk songs in commemoration of their history.

The crowd sifts through renditions that recall Ukraine’s checkered history, from the Cossack era of the 17th and 18th centuries to its partisan-led independence movements during and after the world wars of the 20th.

Some songs feature boisterous melodies that exalt Ukraine’s centuries-old struggles for independence, while others detail in melancholy tones the suffering visited upon ordinary Ukrainians between foreign occupations, as well as the sacrifices made resisting them.

“Ukraine is a singing nation,” said Mykhailo Antokhin, among the singers gathered near the monument. “We sing in order to remember.”

Lviv, as well as the greater region of Halychyna, which comprises Lviv, Ternopil and Ivano-Frankivsk oblasts, has always been a unique territory in Ukraine. Unlike other Ukrainian regions, where nationalist inclinations are either milder or counterweighted by pro-Russian feelings, Halychyna remains a bastion of diehard nationalist sentiment.

Many of its natives pride themselves on their ancestors’ struggle for Ukrainian independence, whether from Poland, the Soviet Union, or other foreign entities. And in Lviv, these struggles often manifest in a song.

‘Ukraine is a singing nation. We sing in order to remember. We’ve had many enemies throughout our history. [Singing represents] the independence and strength we finally have.’

Mykhailo Antokhin

“We’ve had many enemies throughout our history,” said Antokhin. “Today, this [singing] is a representation of the independence and strength we finally have.”
But while the repertoire of songs details many stages of Ukraine’s history, some sing for the more recent past, when under the Soviet regime, Ukraine found its cultural identity blurred and celebrations of that identity repressed.

Some of the most notable waves of repression came during and after Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev’s tenure, as policies of russification intended to enforce servility to Moscow spread through Ukraine under its two Cold War Communist party leaders, Petro Shelest and Volodymyr Shcherbytsky.

While Shelest, who served from 1963 to 1972, promoted Ukrainian cultural identity to a certain degree, Shcherbytsky, in office from 1972 until 1989, was largely responsible for the resurgent waves of repression of Ukrainian dissidents and elites during Leonid Brezhnev’s rule of the Soviet Union.

“It was the worst in the 70s,” said Andriy Meron, a pensioner gathered around the song circle. “KGB members would come out and prevent us from gathering. Many were arrested. But today, there’s no comparison –we are free to sing, and so we make sure to take this opportunity.”

A quick glance around the crowd, however, yields virtually no sight of younger generations. On occasion, a twenty-something will stop to observe – or even join in for a quick song – but the affair seems to be a mostly pensioner-only activity.

Antokhin believes the weekly tradition –and a general sense of cultural awareness –will spread to the youth, who will in turn, he hopes, pick up the mantle and continue the legacy of “singing for Ukraine.”

“Some choose to go out and smoke and drink beer,” he said, pointing to a bustling café across the street. “But we choose to come out and sing. I hope we’ll serve as an example.”


Dan Peleschuk is a freelance journalist in Kyiv.