In December 2017, Finland will celebrate the 100th anniversary of its independence. Next year, the same grand jubilees will be marked in Lithuania, Estonia, Poland, and Latvia, which all emerged on the ruins of the Russian Empire. Ukraine, on the contrary, has just observed its 26th Independence Day, though in January 1918 the sovereignty of the Ukrainian People’s Republic (known after the acronym UNR) was proclaimed in Kyiv.
The failure of the Ukrainian revolutionary statehood of 1917–21 was connected to a large extent with the fierce internal collisions of various social and political forces, the strength of invading Red troops, and the crucial role of Ukraine in the Bolshevik economic and geopolitical strategy.
“By the collapse of military Russia [in WWI],” Clemenceau writes in his memoirs, “Poland found herself suddenly set free and re-created, and then all over Europe oppressed peoples raised their heads, and our war of national defence was transformed by force of events into a war of liberation.”[2]


- the image of the “great” Russia as an indispensable major player of the European concert;
- the belief in the possibility of her democratic reconstitution;
- the poor awareness of the very difference between Ukrainians and Russians.
The contemporary Kremlin leadership has been exploiting some of these ideas not without success to this day while fighting a war in Ukraine. Russian propaganda has been working hard to mask the hybrid aggression as a chivalrous support of imaginary “New Russia” or “Little Russia,” randomly projecting the categories from the century-old imperial vocabulary onto the territory of the contemporary Ukrainian state. In a contradictory but persistent manner, Putin has alleged that Russians and Ukrainians are either “brotherly peoples” or cannot be differed from each other and constitute a “single nation.”
“When it came to the Wilsonian principles [the idea of national self-determination promoted by then American President Wilson],” Margolin writes, “Lansing declared that he was aware of only one people of Russia and that a federation, like the United States, was the only way to reconstruct Russia. When I tried to argue that the existence of individual states, as entities, was the prerequisite of their federation, as in the United States, Lansing evaded the point and continued emphatically to call for the recognition of Kolchak.”[6]It should not be left out that the memory of the 1861–65 American Civil War and the support of the Northern States by Imperial Russia affected the attitude of the Wilson Administration to the possibility of Russia’s disintegration. While the Western powers relied on Russian anti-Bolsheviks, key White leaders firmly denied the right of Ukraine to any self-determination. For them, “Malorossiya,” or, literally “Little Russia,” as they called the country, was unimaginable not only as an independent state but even as an administrative and cultural autonomy. As the appeal of White General Anton Denikin to the “population of Malorossiya” showed in August 1919, he was not going, even for tactical reasons, to step back from his ultra-conservative ideas. The cornerstone of the latter was restoring the unity of the “split” Russian people, of which “Little Russians” were said to be a temporarily detached branch.

“Kolchak was supported by the United States, [White Russian generals] Denikin and Yudenich by England, [Polish general] Galler by France... Petliura was not supported by anyone,” noted Arnold Margolin. “England did not know, of course,” he went on, “that British arms so generously supplied to Denikin for his use against Bolsheviks would be used also against Ukrainians, against the legitimate aspirations of the people who were defending their land and liberty.”[9]

In the following years, however, Baltic states and Ukraine faced similar obstacles on the way to the membership in the international community. Like the Ukrainian one, the delegations of Lithuania, Estonia, and Latvia were denied an official status at the Paris Peace Conference.