by Julie Clague

On the second anniversary of the Russian invasion of Ukraine, and a decade after the civil protests on Maidan Square in Kyiv initiated Ukraine’s ‘revolution of dignity’, a Ukrainian theologian reflects on the impact of the war and offers her insights on how to support Ukrainian refugees living in Scotland.

Dr Maryana Hnyp is a Ukrainian psychologist and theologian who lives and works in Belgium. She serves as President of the European Network of Religion and Belief, ENORB, which combats racism and religious hatred and promotes mutual understanding, collaboration and common action between religious and non-religious groups in the EU and UK. Dr Hnyp is a long-time member of the Malines Conversations Group of Anglican and Catholic theologians working to advance ecumenical dialogue and Christian unity 

In conversation with Julie Clague, Maryana Hnyp shares her experience of working with the Ukrainian refugee community in Belgium and offers some suggestions for how the Scottish community can best support refugees from the war in Ukraine.

JC: Hello Maryana. Thank you for agreeing to speak to Open House magazine. It is now two years since the Russian invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. Would you say something about your Ukrainian roots and how life has changed for you during that time?

MH: Hello dear Julie and thank you for the opportunity to reflect on the challenge that the war in Ukraine presents to us all. I was born and bred in Galychyna, the western part of Ukraine – a country of blue sky and yellow wheat fields. It was a post-communist democratic society, which at that time was rediscovering its national, religious, and ecclesial identity and traditions. The Eastern Catholic church, to which I belong, was recovering and blooming, and I was fascinated by its every aspect. Many got to know Ukraine or got to know it better only recently through the prism of what is happening now. For many it still seems to be terra malecognita: a diverse, complex, understudied and often badly understood country.

On 24 February 2022, the lives of millions of Ukrainians drastically changed. Russia launched a full-scale invasion of Ukraine and began its neo-colonial war on a sovereign and peaceful country, attempting to restore Russia’s imperial geopolitical blueprint. It sparked a catastrophic humanitarian crisis, causing serious concern for the integrity of Ukraine and to the neighbouring countries’ foreign and security policies. As we witness day by day, this war carries major and long-lasting consequences – not only for the geographical, political, national, social, cultural, and religious transformation of Russia and Ukraine, but also by precipitating a profound shift in the methodology of international relations.

These past two years have been very difficult for me and my people. It has been a period of terror, suffering, pain, grief and loss; but also, a time of bravery, resistance, solidarity, care for one another, hope and faith that peace will prevail. As of today, more than 12 million Ukrainians have fled Ukraine hoping to find shelter for them and their children. Nearly six million have already returned home. People around the world keep standing in solidarity with Ukraine, symbolically and practically, joining their hands to strengthen the backline of this dreadful war, and offering their solidarity and support to the victims of war crimes, for which I am very grateful indeed.

Time before and after

For the Ukrainians time seems to have split to ‘before 22 February 2022’ and ‘after’. We now live on every piece of good news we can receive, any help we can organise, donate, or facilitate, helping our country and people to survive in every way possible. For me personally, the days have lost their names, we call them by numbers. My parents and my extended family are still in Ukraine, relatively safe. They choose to stay, so they can help those who need their help. They are my heroes, but I am totally heartbroken. My day no longer begins with a coffee or brushing my teeth. I wake up and in paralysing fear I check my phone for any updates to only see that each day more civilians – elderly, women, and children – are being cruelly killed by the Russian soldiers.

We live the scariest action movie plot imaginable. It is being told that our people have two armies: one courageously protects our people from the invader day and night, and the second one prays continuously.

JC: I know you are involved in Belgian initiatives to support Ukrainian refugees in Flanders. Can you say more about your involvement in this work and what more needs to be done to meet the needs of the Ukrainian people who have sought refuge in Europe?

MH: When the European countries opened their borders to welcome Ukrainian refugees, many people from our diaspora jumped to offer their help. In Leuven, we initiated a dialogue with the municipality to strategise over a short and long term plan of settling displaced Ukrainians, erecting shelters, facilitating interpreting services, volunteering at the hospitals, schools, social services etc.

Once things settled a bit, I moved on to serving as transcultural psychosocial and psychoeducation consultant for the Ukrainians at the refugee team in the Vlaams-Brabant Centre for Mental Health. My desire to accompany people in pain, and to assist them in finding instruments to deal with grief, loss, and trauma, quickly turned into a two-way healing. Difficult times show us how much we need to listen to the stories of one another, how much we need to be embraced by understanding and empathy, how much we need and want to give, and how much we learn about who we are by the way we grieve.

JC: How has the horror of the invasion affected your understanding of theology and ethics?

MH: The horror of the invasion and its implications for the lives of people in Ukraine and far beyond it have stimulated me to take a serious look at both our convictions and our way of life. Now it seems to me that there are more questions than answers, really. Many ethical principles, human and organisational values, rights, and freedoms are being tested against present reality. What is the architecture of our security, and who safeguards our lives? Is sustainable peace now possible, and if so, then what price are we willing to pay for it? What does forgiveness and reconciliation really mean, and where do we draw a line with what is unacceptable? How to deal with deep wounds that get inscribed into a collective memory?

Values and moral standards

This Russian war against Ukraine is not about the territory. Neither is it about the language, though it is often framed as such. It is about values and moral standards. It is the war between a distorted image of harsh and dictating leadership against democracy and the rule of law; between love of your people and hatred of the others; between freedom and slavery. At the gate of Europe, Ukrainian people are fighting for those values that are so important to all of us now: companionship, integrity, respect, freedom.

A question that kept my particular interest was how the phenomenon of recent migration is evoking awareness of vulnerability of the other and oneself, and how this understanding translates into a concrete action. As we readily observe, the implications of migration go far beyond that of merely crossing geographical borders. Migration underscores the turbulence on the crossroads between national security and human insecurity, between (supra)national sovereign rights and fundamental human rights, between citizenship and discipleship. We find ourselves living at the intersection of cultures amid astonishing differences, which contradict, complement, and often merge. As interesting and enriching as it might be, it is also challenging to find a perfect recipe for peaceful and enriching flourishing. Limiting the discourse on migration only to the economic, political, or juridical issues is thus, in my view, a step backwards, as social order is not merely an intellectual matter, but ultimately a moral issue – the just and loving treatment of our neighbours. It brings the issue of migration to the most fundamental level of personal and social ethics, recognising the desire and commitment to solidarity and charity as part of the person’s fundamental disposition towards good.

JC: From your experience as a Ukrainian who is supporting Ukrainian refugees in Belgium, how can the people of Scotland, including the faith communities, best respond to the needs of the 25,000 Ukrainian refugees living here?

MH: Two years of Russia’s war in Ukraine seems to have brought a certain Ukraine-fatigue to many Western societies: there is less information about the current situation, less support from the governments and less humanitarian help for people both in Ukraine and for those on the move. If you are wondering how you could help those who have landed in your local communities to find their way around, here are a few simple suggestions. I like to call them the 4 I’s:

Interest: do not let your interest and concern fade away! Take a chance to ask Ukrainian refugees how they are, how their relatives or friends, who remain back in Ukraine, are doing. Show genuine interest and be prepared to hear difficult answers. Honesty and contact with reality are essential for restoring a person’s safety baseline.

Information: Most people are very capable of re-building their lives in new circumstances. What they often lack, though, is the information about how local society is organised: access to education (for children and adults), housing, medical and juridical services etc. If possible, place on your info boards the websites and phone numbers of the important services in the language the newcomers would understand.

Inquiry: If possible, get in touch with the local diaspora communities, and ask what is most needed at the present moment. These people are usually well up to date about the needs of the refugees in the local context and of people in Ukraine. There are plenty of examples from different countries showing how such a modest friendly inquiry turned into a mutually fruitful cooperation: fundraising actions, cultural and awareness-raising events, joint religious services etc.

Involvement and integration: One of the biggest assumptions is that refugees come to take: money, space, jobs etc. In many years of my practice, I have learned that people in need also come with an incredible richness of talents combined with their desire to give. Proper integration into any society begins with possibilities of active participation in co-shaping it. Try to involve people into regular life by creating or extending the possibilities to participate in it with what they already know. The manner of doing things might be different from what one is used to, but this is exactly how we open ourselves to be touched and changed by others.

Though these few recommendations are written with my fellow Ukrainians in mind, they will probably also work for other refugees and newcomers. And though these responses to the needs of the refugees might look simple and insignificant, they can be small steps that make a big difference in people’s lives.

JC: Thank you Maryana. Do you have a final message for the readers of Open House?

It is rarely possible to solve new issues with old methodologies. Today we need to find new approaches that combine a better understanding of ourselves and our foundations with a deep and profound interest in the other. What we also need, is to learn to be a gift to the other and to accept the other as a gift, as a witness against contemporary cancel culture. It is a means of really getting to know the other and to rediscover our own identity and dignity. It is fundamentally a mission of building a civilisation of solidarity, not as a mere activism, but as a genuine testimony of God’s undivided, unrestricted, and universal love to humankind.

Thank you again, Julie, for the opportunity to share my thoughts with you and the readers of Open House.

Julie Clague is a lecturer in Catholic theology at the University of Glasgow and is a member of the Open House editorial group.