For a modern person living amidst the abundance of information and media resources, it’s hard to imagine that just about 120 years ago, in Ukraine under Russian Empire occupation, there wasn’t a single informational resource available in Ukrainian. These were taken away from Ukrainian consumers by Russian chauvinists, who, through official and secret imperial decrees in the latter half of the 19th century, banned all forms of national publishing—both books and newspapers.
In 1863, the anti-Ukrainian Valuyev Circular was put into effect—a secretive directive from the Empire’s Minister of Internal Affairs, P. Valuyev, directed at territorial censorship committees. This circular ordered the suspension of the publication of a significant portion of Ukrainian books, including school textbooks, religious, and educational literature, particularly in Right-Bank Ukraine. The ban spared only Ukrainian fiction literature. However, this measure remained in place until 1876 when Russian Tsar Alexander II, through the Ems Ukaz, prohibited the publication of literary and original works, as well as the organization of concerts or performances in the Ukrainian language, and the distribution of Ukrainian publications beyond the borders of the Russian Empire.
Further oppressive measures against Ukrainian identity followed, such as the secret imperial ban of 1881. This ban affected national education and religious life, prohibiting the use of the Ukrainian language in teaching and spiritual sermons in public schools and churches. By 1884, a separate imperial decree prohibited Ukrainian theatrical performances in Ukrainian provinces. These measures marked the final suppression of the Ukrainian language in public cultural life during the late 19th century.
Therefore, through a series of Russian imperial decrees spanning from 1863 to 1884, the Ukrainian language, a clear marker of national identity, was systematically removed from the realms of publishing, education, public life, and cultural events, being replaced across the board by its counterpart, the Russian language.
This was how our long-standing adversary stripped Ukrainians of their language, imposing a comprehensive process of russification. They enforced these measures through their own publications, literature, culture, and educational system, all of which consistently served as vehicles for Russian propaganda. Manipulating the minds of readers with imperial fabrications and myths, they built upon the notion of “great Russian” exceptionalism, asserting exclusive priorities and achievements solely for themselves.
The Efforts
Yet, these severe and unprecedented imperial bans, targeting the core elements of Ukrainian identity, did not stifle national life in Ukraine; instead, they sparked predictable resistance from the conscious Ukrainian populace against the empire’s repressive policies. Despite the official dangers and professional inconveniences, Ukrainian intellectuals—mainly university professors, teachers, writers, and publicists—chose to fight for the preservation of the Ukrainian nation, its linguistic and cultural rights, its uniqueness, and its national progress.
The efforts of Ukrainians to overturn imperial bans on their written word began in the early 1900s. This movement later grew into a systematic and determined campaign led by a generation of passionate Ukrainian intellectuals, all part of the Ukrainian national movement. Choosing diplomacy and public advocacy, they wrote appeals to Russian officials (ministers, censors) and academic scholars.
Ukrainian delegations were sent to the Russian capital for meetings with officials to discuss Ukrainian issues, conveying the desire of Ukrainians to use their native language in publishing and education and to foster national development. Ukrainians also actively participated in all-Russian gatherings, where they engaged in lively debates, signed joint resolutions (with representatives of other nations) condemning the unjust national policies of the Russian Empire, and demanded the lifting of bans on the national progress of occupied peoples.
Alongside these forms of public activism, the pioneers of the revival of the Ukrainian national press (Yevhen Chykalenko, Serhiy Yefremov, Petro Stebnytsky) also formally requested permission for Ukrainians to have printed material in their native language and to establish Ukrainian periodicals. As early as 1901, Chykalenko sent a petition to St. Petersburg (to the Russian Main Directorate of Printing Affairs) seeking approval for a weekly magazine called “Selyanyn” (The Peasant). His efforts in the capital were supported by a community of local Ukrainians. Among them were influential officials with connections in Russian ministries and the Directorate of Printing Affairs itself. However, despite their connections and additional efforts, the resolution of the Ukrainian question remained elusive; Russian imperial bans on it remained unwavering. Despite these early setbacks, Ukrainians remained resolute in their intentions, driven by a strong desire to have their own printed outlets, which they believed were essential for their national rights and identity.
Publicist Serhiy Yefremov vividly described the predicament of Ukrainian people without their own periodicals: “It’s like a servant by nature mocking an opponent with tied hands, a tightly shut mouth, and a severed tongue.”
In 1904, Yefremov personally brought the official request to print the Ukrainian-language weekly journal “Vik” to St. Petersburg, directly appealing to the Russian Minister of Internal Affairs Pyotr Svyatopolk-Mirsky. He also secured a personal meeting with the head of the Main Directorate of Printing Affairs, Zverev. Both Russian officials received Yefremov, promising to review his request and offering him some hope. However, just a month later, he received the same disappointing response as Yevhen Chykalenko did in 1901: “The petition cannot be granted.”
The decision regarding the Ukrainian journal was made at a high level during a meeting of the council of Russian ministers at the end of December 1904. Russian officials explained it as follows: Before granting permission for the journal, the previous imperial bans on Ukrainian printed material had to be revoked. However, this matter “was not within the government’s jurisdiction”; it required the establishment of a special committee, with experts selected for the task. This committee was tasked with reviewing the bans, assessing their reasons and dangers, and providing its conclusions to government officials.
The Hope and Disappointment
The promises of constitutional freedoms and press laws proclaimed in the Russian Empire in the autumn of 1905 offered some hope to Ukrainians. Formally, the laws were created with the aim of alleviating the national oppression experienced by subjugated peoples, including Ukrainians. On paper, they “abolished” the bans on the Ukrainian language and publishing, theoretically allowing for the establishment of national periodicals.
However, the reality was starkly different: Ukrainians continued to face rejections for their requests. They were denied a daily all-Ukrainian newspaper, a journal, a weekly newspaper for peasant population, and even a children’s monthly. The same administrative and censorial hurdles persisted, with Russian officials in St. Petersburg and Kyiv showing a biased attitude towards the Ukrainian language. They viewed it as a “separatism” and an imaginary threat to the unity of their empire, relying on fear, repression, the denial of basic human freedoms, and the neglect of national needs.
The key person behind the Ukrainian newspaper project, Yevhen Chykalenko, was stunned by a curious fact in 1905: Russian newspapers with revolutionary and radical content flooded Ukraine. They circulated freely in Ukrainian towns and villages, urging readers to rise against the existing social order, advocating for change based on principles of social equality, justice, and more. However, despite these calls, no one shut down or even paid special attention to these newspapers. Meanwhile, Ukrainians continued to be denied their requests for periodicals. This is how much of a threat Russian chauvinists perceived in the Ukrainian language, considering it a perilous weapon aimed at the unity and integrity of their artificially constructed empire. The rapid spread of Russian newspapers alarmed Ukrainians more than censorship or the tsarist gendarmes did: they feared that these propagandistic publications, with their populist content, would captivate Ukrainian readers, taking away their longing for a national newspaper they had dreamed of for decades.
The Plan
This reality spurred the initiators of Ukrainian periodicals to persist in their efforts. By the end of October 1905, Yevhen Chykalenko once again applied for a Ukrainian newspaper and journal. Waiting for a response, he visited the office of the Kyiv Governor-General daily, surprised by the self-governance, inaction, and indifference of the bureaucratic Kyiv administration towards Ukrainian requests. Eventually, Chykalenko’s persistent daily visits ended with yet another rejection for both of his requests: the newspaper “Hromadske Slovo” and the journal “Nove Zhyttya”. The officials responded in their usual manner: the proposed publications’ agendas clashed with the existing societal order, advocating for the autonomy of Ukrainian lands and a federal structure for the empire, and thus were not approved. The situation took an unexpected turn.
This time, the Ukrainians were confident in their success. In the autumn of 1905, various publications emerged, and the empire made some concessions to oppressed peoples, like allowing the Lithuanians to translate spiritual literature into their native language. The situation got more complicated when, without waiting for official permission, the initiators of the Ukrainian publications placed ads in other journals and notified their subscribers. However, they faced another rejection. This led to a daring plan: to start publishing a weekly newspaper in Ukrainian without official permission, using what they called the “open format.” But they decided not to do it in Kyiv, which might attract too much attention among the capital’s newspapers. Instead, they chose St. Petersburg for the initial launch. The idea was that if attitudes towards the Ukrainian language changed, they could move the newspaper to Kyiv and give it a daily format. To make this happen, the Ukrainians planned to send their most experienced publishers and publicists, Serhiy Yefremov, Borys Hrinchenko, and Fedir Matushevsky, to the capital. They also invited M. Hrushevsky from Lviv to join them, even if it was just a month, to help get the editorial and publishing process going and guide the publication’s thematic and substantive direction. At that time, discussions were also held with the local Ukrainian community in St. Petersburg to assess whether they had the literary and organisational strength necessary to publish a Ukrainian newspaper abroad.
On this occasion, the Ukrainians found success at their doorstep, as they were officially granted permission to publish the daily newspaper “Hromadska Dumka” (Public Opinion). Its inaugural issue greeted the world on December 31, 1905, marking the dawn of Ukrainian daily periodicals. This marked the enduring path of Ukrainians toward a newspaper in their native language, a revival in the realms of newspaper journalism and book publishing. It was a path of perseverance and the dedicated efforts of ideological Ukrainians who understood the danger to the existence of the Ukrainian nation posed by Russian chauvinistic policies.
The founders of the Ukrainian newspaper viewed its publication as a vital national endeavour, a significant stage in the formation of the Ukrainian nation. Therefore, when challenges arose in its publishing journey, its publisher, Chykalenko, spared no effort, making significant material and moral sacrifices to preserve his publication as a beacon of the Ukrainian movement, a vibrant symbol of Ukrainian national life amidst Russian occupation.
