Eduard ANDRIUSHCHENKO,
historian, author of the book
"KGB Archives: True Stories"(Kyiv, UKRAINE):
"The KGB, like any other intelligence agency, conducted surveillance before making arrests: they eavesdropped, photographed targets, and gathered information from informants within the subject’s circle. All of this was compiled into operational files, initially called "formulary files" .
WHY "FILES" WERE DESTROYED
The majority of preserved documents are criminal cases, starting from the 1930s. In 1954, with the establishment of the KGB, a large number of cases involving political prisoners, including Ukrainian dissidents, began to emerge. Some of these materials are currently being digitized and scanned, making them accessible even via email.
Far fewer operational files have survived, despite their immense historical value. The KGB [1], like any other intelligence agency, conducted surveillance before making arrests: they eavesdropped, photographed targets, and gathered information from informants within the subject’s circle. All of this was compiled into operational files, initially called "formulary files," though their names later changed.
Unfortunately, most of these fascinating documents were destroyed. The KGB eliminated many such files in several stages, with the largest purge occurring in the late 1980s. This was fueled by fears that offices could be overtaken by protesters or that the government could change. The KGB viewed the existing regime as temporary and feared that classified materials might be made public. These archives likely contained evidence of provocations orchestrated by the KGB itself, as well as information about agents who collaborated with them.
A similar scenario occurred in East Germany, where the archives of the Stasi [2] became accessible in 1989. The KGB was determined to prevent such exposure, so operational files and agent dossiers were systematically destroyed.
The instinct to safeguard classified information was deeply ingrained in every KGB employee—it was something they were trained to do. For example, let’s consider the handling of information about those executed in the 1930s. Today, we know that a massive number of people were executed based on fabricated cases, often processed rapidly without any trial, defense, or testimony. During the Great Terror (1937–1938), this process became almost industrialized, with so-called "troikas" or "dyads" issuing sentences based on brief summaries prepared by investigators—sometimes just a few lines of accusations. Evidence was irrelevant.
Many were executed, and some were posthumously rehabilitated after the peak of the terror subsided in 1938. Those who survived were eventually released.
After Stalin's death, a more widespread rehabilitation process began. However, relatives who received certificates confirming the unjust imprisonment of their loved ones—long since executed—were still being lied to about "10 years without the right to correspondence." In the 1950s and 1960s, people wrote to the prosecutor's office and even to the KGB, saying, "We’ve come to terms with the fact that we will never see our loved ones again, but at least tell us how they died and where they are buried." For example, Les Kurbas, one of the founders of Ukrainian theater, was executed in Sandarmokh in 1937. Over two days, a large number of Ukrainian cultural figures were executed there. Yet, even in encyclopedias, the year of his death was misrepresented—it was recorded as 1942, if I’m not mistaken. This falsification persisted until the late 1980s. There are tens of thousands of similar cases, at the very least.
What’s my point? They didn’t want to reveal the full truth. I tried to understand and find some rational explanation for this. After all, they even rehabilitated the Chekists who fabricated these cases—most of whom had been executed back in the 1930s, some accused of falsifying cases. However, the investigation explained this by claiming that they were allegedly acting on the orders of foreign intelligence agencies, when in reality, they were forced to fabricate cases by the communist system. I tried to comprehend the reasoning behind continuing to lie to people and keeping this information secret.
I couldn’t find any explanation. They acted this way because they simply didn’t know any other way. And when, during perestroika, the party gave them the green light to "tell it like it was," these processes unfolded simultaneously. On one hand, the KGB was destroying documents about surveillance and their agents en masse. On the other, under pressure from party leadership, which was pursuing a more liberal course, partly to normalize relations with the West, they admitted to the existence of mass repressions.
At that time, researchers began publishing their work, archives started opening up, and from around 1989 onward, relatives were finally told the truth about the deaths of their loved ones. I’m convinced that this shocking truth, which completely shattered faith in the regime, was one of the reasons—though not the main one—that the system ultimately collapsed.
In 1991, the old security service was dissolved, and a new one was established in Ukraine, initially called the "National Security Service of Ukraine" (the word "National" was removed about six months later). All materials were meant to become accessible. It’s worth noting that currently, due to wartime conditions, access to the SBU archive is restricted; however, electronic copies of requested documents can still be sent to you. At that time, despite Ukraine becoming independent and condemning the crimes of the communist regime, the doors to the archives of the Soviet security services remained only slightly ajar, so to speak, for quite some time. There was no clear procedure for researchers to access the archives. Nevertheless, occasional publications began to appear, and in the mid-1990s, a highly impactful academic journal based on the archives of the Cheka [3] and OGPU [4] was launched, publishing articles derived from declassified materials. Often, access to these materials depended on the discretion of individual archive employees.
For instance, a researcher would request specific documents, aware that they existed, only to be told, "We won’t give you this." — "Why not?" — "We don’t give this to anyone." The inertia of old practices persisted because "it was always done this way," and certain cases, often highly valuable ones, continued to be destroyed even after independence. While it wasn’t widespread, there are documented examples. Some files bear stamps indicating their destruction, with dates such as 1992. What surprised me most was that in Lviv, at the SBU, the operational file on Roman Shukhevych [5] (likely tens of volumes, if not a hundred, containing materials on how he was pursued and later surveilled) was destroyed as late as 1997. Ultimately, through the efforts of many, and particularly thanks to the law on decommunization, the situation improved, and access to these materials became significantly easier.
[1] The Committee for State Security of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (KGB) was the central union-republic state administration body of the USSR responsible for ensuring state security. It operated from 1954 to 1991. From its inception until March 14, 1990, it functioned under the direct leadership and control of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union (CPSU).
[2] Ministry for State Security of the German Democratic Republic (Stasi).
[3] All-Russian Extraordinary Commission for Combating Counter-Revolution and Sabotage – the state security body of the USSR (Russian: VChK, 1917–1922).
[4] Joint State Political Directorate under the Council of People's Commissars of the USSR (Russian: OGPU) – a special state security agency of the USSR (1923–1934).
[5] Roman Yosypovych Shukhevych (1907–1950) – Ukrainian political and military leader, member of the Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists (OUN), later OUN(b), leader of the latter after 1943, and from January 1944 until his death in 1950, commander-in-chief of the Ukrainian Insurgent Army (OUN-UPA).
"WHAT PARTY LEADERS WERE BRIEFED ABOUT"
Let me return to my first visits to the archives. At the time, I was searching for materials for my dissertation on nationalist organizations of the late 1980s. However, due to the mass destruction of documents, I found very little. Still, during the search, I came across a vast array of materials on a wide variety of topics. It felt like reading a newspaper, but one that covered issues not discussed publicly. These were classified "top secret" documents presented daily to party leaders to give them a clearer picture of what was happening in the country.
The content of these materials was incredibly diverse, ranging from serious incidents to minor details. For instance, it was particularly intriguing to read the initial reports following the Chernobyl disaster, which included a note from Shcherbytsky[1] asking, "What does this mean?" It was clear that he did not understand the significance of the figures presented and sought clarification on the seriousness of the situation.
At the same time, there were reports about anti-Soviet graffiti found in trams or restrooms. These could have been phrases like "Brezhnev [2] is a liar" or "Lenin [3] is a criminal." However, due to the reverence for these figures, the actual content of such messages was not quoted in the documents. Instead, they would state that the graffiti was offensive to party leaders or the founder of the Soviet state.
Significant attention was also given to everyday issues. For example, there were reports about a person who found a needle in their sausage, which could be interpreted as an act of sabotage. Or there were accounts of food or clothing shortages in specific cities. In such cases, the main focus was not on the shortages themselves but on the public dissatisfaction they caused, the anti-Soviet conversations that arose, and the local authorities' responses.
Another major topic was the public's reaction to significant events, such as the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. However, it’s hard to say how accurate these reports were. It seems that the security services often tried to manipulate the information, presenting a narrative that aligned with the expectations of party leadership rather than reflecting reality. Even in the late 1980s, reports would often claim that "the majority of Soviet citizens are satisfied," while only "a small group of dissidents" expressed dissent.
The quotes from these "dissidents" often provided a closer glimpse of the actual public sentiment. However, it’s essential to note that many people likely understood who they were talking to and knew that their words could be passed on by informants and recorded in official documents. As a result, they may have chosen more cautious statements, which could further distort the perception of the situation by party leaders.
Now we often ask ourselves: why did Putin[4] dare to wage war against Ukraine, and why did things not go as he was told? One of the obvious answers is that he was likely fed distorted information about “taking Kyiv in three days,” about Ukrainians supposedly waiting for Russian tanks. Similar misrepresented information was presented to the Soviet party leaders. However, I believe the facts provided back then were usually closer to reality.
Later, I had the chance to ask people whether they had said what the agents had recorded. Some even remembered, saying, “Yes, I discussed this with my university friend...” They were genuinely surprised to learn how their conversations ended up with the KGB. “Could it have been my friend? I would never have thought...” Others could guess. These countless stories, in my opinion, vividly illustrate what life was like in Ukraine during the late Soviet era.
I started working with documents from the 1980s — a period many still remember. People would share their own details about various events or phenomena in the comments to my work. I wanted to bring these stories, which had grown in number, to the public eye and began writing. One of my first stories seemed absurd and a bit funny: in the 1970s, when the "Fantômas" movies became incredibly popular in the USSR, children started playing “Fantômas,” writing threatening notes in the name of this movie character, and slipping them into mailboxes. Sometimes, these notes contained anti-Soviet phrases. The KGB was forced to investigate — those were the rules — even though they likely understood it was just children playing. Yet even such incidents were reported to the republic’s leaders.
Over time, I delved into the 1930s and 1950s, publishing articles. Eventually, I had the idea to compile the most interesting stories into a book. In 2022, this book, titled KGB Archives: Untold Stories, was published by Vivat Publishing. One of the stories is about a football player from Kyiv Dynamo, one of the best players of his time, who was arrested in 1938 on absurd charges. He was accused of being a Turkish spy, allegedly recruited during a friendly match by Turkish footballers who were supposedly working for intelligence services. The charges claimed he was forced to report on the number of athletes and sports enthusiasts in the Soviet Union and to sabotage his teammates by getting them drunk before matches and training sessions to lower the level of Soviet sports. It’s laughable… but for Kostyantyn Shchehotsky, as this footballer was named, it was no laughing matter. Though he was relatively fortunate, serving only about a year in prison, his case fell apart when the peak of the repressions subsided. He was released, but by then, he had lost his athletic form and never again played at his previous level. He lived until 1990 and was rehabilitated just a month after his death, with his son receiving the rehabilitation certificate.
I expected to find many spy stories in the archives. However, as anticipated, most of them turned out to be fabrications and concocted cases. How can one seriously accept accusations against an illiterate farmer of working for Japanese intelligence when he had likely never even seen a Japanese person in his life? Genuine espionage cases were few and mostly related to the Cold War era. One story I came across involved a spy from Kyiv, an engineer who agreed to work for North Korean intelligence and pass along military secrets.
The book generated considerable interest among readers, which inspired me to continue my research. I am now working on a second book about the activities of Soviet security services within the Ukrainian intelligentsia between the 1930s and 1950s. Stalin [5] referred to writers as "engineers of human souls," so it’s no surprise that Soviet agents focused significant attention on literary, scientific, and artistic circles, attempting to keep these communities under strict control. Naturally, efforts were made to recruit individuals from these spheres, often exploiting opportune moments for persuasion. Those who did not emigrate had to—whether sincerely or not—accept Soviet rule and "play by the rules."
Some, like Mykola Khvylovy [6], were genuinely committed communists, albeit Ukrainian communists. Others realized that to continue writing and creating in Ukraine, they had to pretend to be completely loyal to the regime, which often meant including poems or works about Stalin, Lenin, and the Communist Party in their collections.
[1] Volodymyr Vasylovych Shcherbytsky (1918–1990) – Soviet statesman and party leader. First Secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Ukraine (1972–1989).
[2] Leonid Ilyich Brezhnev (1906–1982) – Soviet statesman, politician, and party leader who held the highest position in the Communist Party of the Soviet Union for 18 years (from 1964 until his death in 1982).
[3] Vladimir Ilyich Lenin (1870–1924, birth surname Ulyanov) – political and state leader of Soviet Russia and the USSR, revolutionary, publicist, and Marxist theorist. The first head of government of the RSFSR, leader of the Bolshevik Party, and one of the organizers of the October Revolution of 1917 and the Russian Civil War, as well as the “Red Terror.”
[4] Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin (born 1952) – current President of the Russian Federation, Chairman of the State Council and the Security Council, and Supreme Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation. Effectively ruling Russia since 2000, Putin’s governance is marked by the strengthening of central and presidential power. Under his leadership, Russia has shifted from democracy to authoritarianism and dictatorship.
[5] Joseph Vissarionovich Stalin (1878–1953, birth name Dzhugashvili) – Soviet military and political leader. As General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union (1922–1953) and Chairman of the Council of Ministers (1941–1953), he established a one-party totalitarian regime in the USSR and became a de facto dictator. The political system and ideology he established are referred to as “Stalinism.”
[6] Mykola Khvylovy (1893–1933, real name Mykola Hryhorovych Fitilov) – Ukrainian prose writer, poet, publicist, and political figure, one of the founders of post-revolutionary Ukrainian prose. One of the most prominent representatives of the "Executed Renaissance" and the ideological inspirer of the slogan: "Away from Moscow!"
THEY WERE GIVEN A CHOICE: TO BE A VICTIM OR TO COLLABORATE
In the late 1920s and early 1930s, the Communist Party conducted several experiments in the economy and ended its experiment with Ukrainization. Ukrainians had been given a "carrot" to win their loyalty and sympathy. By that time, it had become clear that no serious threats, such as mass uprisings, were likely, as the protest environment had been systematically suppressed throughout the 1920s. Following the Holodomor, the segment of society that might have posed a theoretical threat to the regime was left powerless after the devastating blow. With this groundwork laid, the regime could now act more harshly, even against writers.
The new era was marked by a series of high-profile political trials, most notably the so-called SVU case. This fabricated trial targeted an imaginary nationalist organization, the "Union for the Liberation of Ukraine," which the secret police claimed included members of the Ukrainian intelligentsia, academics, and prominent figures like Serhii Yefremov [1], deputy head of the All-Ukrainian Academy of Sciences. Members of the SVU were accused of collaborating with foreign intelligence services to overthrow Soviet power in Ukraine.
The trial was public, widely reported in newspapers, and served as a warning to others: speak out against Russification or show insufficient loyalty, and you could share the same fate. However, for a time, people still hoped that they could avoid trouble by playing by the rules.
In the mid-1930s, the recruitment of agents from among writers became more active. Then came the Great Terror, a time when repression defied any logical understanding. The logic of the Great Terror was that no one could feel safe, no matter how loyal they were to the party. One might simply be overlooked or not noticed—a lottery akin to artillery shells falling near or far.
Those who had collaborated with the regime for years were often shocked, confused, and convinced that a "terrible mistake" had occurred, believing that Comrade Stalin would surely sort things out and that justice would prevail.
In most cases, such expectations were hopelessly naive. A particularly illustrative example involves the prominent philosopher Volodymyr Yurynec, an academician and one of the most prominent Ukrainian philosophers of his time, along with ethnographer Anton Onyshchuk. Arrested and given a choice—to become victims or collaborators—they chose the latter.
We know their codenames as NKVD [2] agents, and they fabricated reports at their superiors' orders, often targeting specific individuals. For instance, they were instructed to denounce Mykhailo Boichuk [3] (whose students were known as "Boichukists") in what became one of the most infamous cases of the era and one of the greatest losses to Ukrainian culture.
The case was orchestrated by secret police officer Mykola Hrushevskyi (a distant relative of Mykhailo Hrushevskyi [4]). He instructed his agents to accuse Boichuk of being a terrorist—standard charges of the time—and planning an assassination attempt against either the republic's leader, Postyshev [5], Kosior [6], or even Stalin himself. Hrushevskyi needed fabricated evidence, in the form of informants' reports, to justify Boichuk's arrest.
Agents fabricated various falsehoods, leading to the arrest of Mykhailo Boichuk and his students in 1936. Shortly after, they were executed. About a month later, Mykola Hrushevskyi, the man who fabricated the case, and his agents were also arrested. Onyshchuk and Yurynec confessed that all accusations against Boichuk were lies. However, they were further coerced into admitting that their fabrications were allegedly directed by foreign intelligence services—Polish and German—and that they were connected to the German consul.
This twisted narrative implicated all three in deliberately misleading and destroying innocent people, thereby diverting the NKVD from "real enemies" they allegedly knew about but concealed, supposedly under orders from their foreign handlers. In reality, however, such operations were not directed by external intelligence agencies but were a product of the Soviet system itself. Hrushevskyi was simply following directives handed down to him, so-called "quotas" for finding "enemies of the people" and "terrorists," which required him to identify victims.
During interrogations, Onyshchuk and Yurynec described in detail how the process unfolded and how they felt compelled to lie about innocent individuals. Yurynec admitted that he would often get drunk, sometimes even arriving intoxicated at meetings with Hrushevskyi and other NKVD officials. He claimed that only in such a state could he write anything—either dictated by Hrushevskyi or invented on his own, including imaginary "terrorist plots."
Yurynec also revealed an NKVD "tradition" he had heard about: before major holidays, such as May 1st or November 7th, new "plots" to assassinate top leaders like Stalin and Postyshev would be "uncovered." These alleged attempts were always planned for festive occasions when Stalin and Postyshev appeared on the Mausoleum's podium—a supposedly opportune moment for an assassination attempt. This routine meant that every six months, a case involving another "terrorist" had to surface.
Initially, the NKVD planned to accuse Boichuk and his associates of plotting to blow up the recently unveiled monument to Taras Shevchenko in Kharkiv ahead of Shevchenko Days. However, this idea was abandoned as it seemed too implausible—why would nationalists destroy a monument to Shevchenko? Eventually, Hrushevskyi and his two agents, Onyshchuk and Yurynec, were executed.
There was one more tragic detail in this case. Boichuk’s wife, Sofiia [7], was also arrested, though the only charge against her was being his spouse and allegedly passing documents from the Polish consulate to her husband. This too was fabricated, as admitted by the agents who falsified the accusations. Despite this confession, no steps were taken to review Sofiia’s case or release her. She was executed at the end of 1937.
These events left a deep impression on those who witnessed them. Most writers in Kharkiv lived in the same building, known as "Slovo" ("The Word"). A recent feature film depicted the lives of its residents during those tragic times when neighbors betrayed neighbors, hoping to save themselves and their families. But that’s not how it worked—agents were arrested as well.
In the end, people began to understand that these arrests followed no logic, no consistent plan, and no clear strategy. This was the essence of terror—a pervasive atmosphere of absolute fear, where no one knew what awaited them.
Even if you had recently met with top state officials, it didn’t mean you could feel completely secure. For a time, a state decoration could serve as a sort of protective amulet. For example, in 1939, Mykola Bazhan [8] came dangerously close to being arrested, as seen in NKVD documents where he was labeled a nationalist. It's said that he even slept fully dressed, ready for the inevitable knock at the door. But then, unexpectedly, Bazhan was awarded the Order of Lenin—a sign he wouldn’t be touched anytime soon. Such decisions were sometimes influenced by Khrushchev [9], who could personally speak to Stalin and find persuasive arguments. However, Khrushchev was by no means a benefactor. He himself once remarked that his hands were soaked in blood, referring to his role in orchestrating mass repressions. Yet in some cases, he truly could save someone’s life.
As I’ve mentioned, very few operational case files survived in the archives. However, materials on Dovzhenko [10], Bazhan, and Ostap Vyshnia [11] were preserved.
The survival of Dovzhenko’s file is practically a miracle. In the late 1980s, during another round of archive "cleaning" ordered by KGB Chief Kryuchkov, files were to be retained only under specific conditions: if the agent or target had died, reached a certain age, or if the file was deemed historically or operationally valuable—for example, as a training resource for a new generation of KGB operatives.
One officer decided that Dovzhenko’s file no longer held any value and wrote a report recommending its destruction. However, his superiors, better informed about Ukrainian cultural history, refused to sign off. Instead, the KGB colonel mocked his subordinate by crossing out "Senior Operative Officer" under the report and replacing it with "Senior Operative Idiot." In the 1990s, Dovzhenko’s file—codenamed "Zaporozhets"—became partially and later fully accessible to researchers. Several books and films have since been based on it. Most recently, Yuri Shapoval, a well-known archive scholar, published a two-volume work using these materials.
When you read operational materials, it becomes clear that enough information had been collected on most individuals to imprison them if necessary. Take Volodymyr Sosiura [13], a renowned Ukrainian poet. He fought in the army of the Ukrainian People's Republic (UNR)—an everlasting source of incrimination. His association with Petliura’s forces, statements made in the 1920s, and later remarks were all meticulously documented and filed away, awaiting their moment.
Ostap Vyshnia, for instance, was sentenced to 10 years on a standard charge of counterrevolutionary activities and terrorism. He served the full term, which was remarkable given that many in his position faced execution. In 1943, he was released and reportedly recruited by the NKVD.
This recruitment may have been a condition of his release. According to the documents, he agreed and became agent 018. However, Vyshnia frequently reported back to the KGB (then MGB [14]) that he was a terrible agent who could provide no useful information. To appease the authorities, he began writing pro-Soviet works, including propaganda against the Ukrainian Insurgent Army (UPA)—a compromise that likely ensured he wouldn’t be targeted again.
As an agent, however, Vyshnia was ineffective. He sabotaged assignments, missed meetings with his handler, and provided absurd, unusable reports. Ultimately, new allegations about his nationalist ties surfaced, and he faced the possibility of being imprisoned again. However, Vyshnia died in 1956, and his name was quietly removed from the agent registry.
This term referred to individuals who were ostensibly working for the KGB but in reality either served another side, acting as double agents, or had opposing beliefs and actively resisted, providing no real value. Sometimes, signing a cooperation agreement was simply a way to save themselves. This offers us an important lesson: learning that someone was an agent doesn’t mean we should immediately brand them as a “snitch” or a “traitor.” The example of Ostap Vyshnia demonstrates that the situation could be more nuanced, and his forced collaboration can be forgiven.
Maxym Rylskyi [15], for instance, spent less than a year in custody in the early 1930s. After his release, as literary scholars note, he emerged as a changed man. Before his arrest, he famously sported a mustache, but he never wore one again afterward. It’s said that during an interrogation, his mustache was forcibly ripped out. He was released a broken man who began writing poems glorifying Stalin.
Another known agent from the literary world was Maria Sosiura, wife of the celebrated poet Volodymyr Sosiura. The couple lived in the previously mentioned "Slovo" building. During the war, writers were evacuated to Ufa, where she was recruited by the MGB in 1941. We know her codename, but we would likely never have found out about her collaboration if she hadn’t been so talkative. Maria reportedly told her lovers and friends that she worked for the MGB, and she had a tendency to embellish her stories. However, there is no documented evidence confirming her activities as an agent.
For revealing the state secret of her MGB collaboration and some alleged anti-Soviet behavior extracted during interrogations—behavior that likely never occurred—she was sentenced to ten years in labor camps after the war.
Her investigative file has survived and includes two episodes related to her activities as an agent.
The first: a young nationalist visited their apartment (he also visited Maxym Rylskyi and Petro Panch [16]) and started discussing literature, eventually shifting to nationalist propaganda. She reported him, though the authorities were already aware of him and would have arrested him regardless. The man received a 25-year sentence but served less. Interestingly, his great-granddaughter recently contacted me. When descendants reach out—usually with gratitude or curiosity—I share the archival documents I have, and they often send me photographs of their relatives.
The second: Maria intentionally steered her husband into a conversation about whether the Germans would win the war. In response to her provocation, Volodymyr delivered an ardently pro-Soviet, anti-fascist speech. However, this initiative wasn’t part of any assignment—she did it entirely on her own.
And that’s all we know about her work as an agent.
[1] Serhiy Oleksandrovych Yefremov (1876–1939) – Ukrainian public, political, and state figure, literary critic, and historian. Vice President of the All-Ukrainian Academy of Sciences. Contributed to the development of the concept of Ukrainian statehood, national culture, and education.
[2] People's Commissariat of Internal Affairs of the RSFSR – the central state administration body of the RSFSR responsible for combating crime and maintaining public order from 1917 to 1930 and from 1937 to 1946. In 1934, it became the People's Commissariat of Internal Affairs of the USSR.
[3] Mykhailo Lvivovych Boichuk (1882–1937) – Ukrainian monumental artist, painter, and teacher. Founder of "Boichukism" and one of the pioneers of monumental art in 20th-century Ukraine. A representative of the "Executed Renaissance."
[4] Mykhailo Serhiiovych Hrushevskyi (1866–1934) – Ukrainian historian, public, and political figure. Chairman of the Central Council of the Ukrainian People's Republic (1917–1918).
[5] Pavlo Petrovych Postyshev (1887–1939) – Soviet state and party official. One of the organizers of the political repressions of 1937–1938 in the USSR and one of the main architects of the 1932–1933 Holodomor in Ukraine. Executed for alleged involvement in a "Right-Trotskyist organization."
[6] Stanislav Vikentiiovych Kosior (1889–1939) – Soviet state and party official, First Secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Ukraine (1928–1938). Played a direct role in the liquidation of "Ukrainization" and the organization of the artificial famine (Holodomor) in Ukraine in 1932–33. Executed for alleged involvement in the so-called "Polish Military Organization."
[7] Sofiya Oleksandrivna Nalepynska-Boichuk – Ukrainian Soviet graphic artist and professor.
[8] Mykola Platonovych Bazhan (1904–1983) – Ukrainian poet, translator, cultural historian, encyclopedist, philosopher, and public figure.
[9] Nikita Sergeyevich Khrushchev (1894–1971) – Soviet party and state leader. First Secretary of the CPSU Central Committee (1953–1964) and Chairman of the USSR Council of Ministers (1958–1964). His era is often called the "Thaw" due to political prisoners' release and the start of rehabilitation for victims of Stalinist repressions. Khrushchev was removed from power in October 1964 for "subjectivism" and "voluntarism" and retired.
[10] Oleksandr Petrovych Dovzhenko (1894–1956) – Ukrainian writer, filmmaker, screenwriter, artist, and a classic of world cinematography.
[11] Ostap Vyshnia (Pavlo Mykhailovych Hubenko, 1889–1956) – Ukrainian writer, satirist, and a classic of 20th-century Ukrainian prose. Prisoner of Stalin’s camps (1933–1943).
[12] State Security Service Employee (in the Cheka era – Chekist).
[13] Volodymyr Mykolaiovych Sosiura (1897–1965) – Ukrainian poet, writer, and translator.
[14] Ministry of State Security of the USSR (MGB, 1946–1953).
[15] Rylskyi Maksym Tadeiovych (1895–1964) – Ukrainian Soviet poet-academician, translator, publicist, public figure, linguist, one of the "Neoclassicists," and literary scholar.
[16] Petro Panch (Petro Yosypovych Panchenko, 1891–1978) – Ukrainian writer.
THE PRIDE OF SOVIET DISINFORMATION OPERATIONS
I want to emphasize that what is now referred to as Russian IPSO (Information-Psychological Special Operations)—creating and spreading fake news to discredit Ukraine or spark artificial conflicts—was also practiced in Soviet times under the name "active measures." One of these "active measures" in the 1980s was the fabrication of the claim that AIDS was artificially created by the United States. The goal was to provoke a surge of anti-American sentiment, particularly in Africa. The lie was crafted as follows: the KGB fed the information to an Indian newspaper, claiming that the U.S. had invented AIDS and was intentionally spreading it. The story, with references to the Indian paper, gradually circulated globally. This strategy is strikingly similar to recent falsehoods about “biolabs” in Ukraine.
Information about the AIDS disinformation campaign has been uncovered in archives abroad. Meanwhile, there are examples of similar operations found in local archives. Soviet intelligence devoted considerable attention to the Ukrainian diaspora in Canada and the U.S., viewing it as a systematic and formidable opponent of Soviet rule—accusing it of recruitment, provocation, and anti-Soviet activities. In the 1970s, the KGB reported an informational operation: they fabricated leaflets purportedly from the Ukrainian diaspora, calling for the establishment of an autonomous Ukrainian region centered in Winnipeg, with Ukrainian as the official language and the potential for future secession.
Why was this done? At the time, Canada was grappling with the sensitive issue of Quebec’s independence. The Soviets sought to portray Ukrainians as potential separatists, ungrateful and scheming, in hopes of alienating them from Canadian authorities. I have seen this blue-and-yellow leaflet, which was sent to everyone—from the Prime Minister to local government offices. However, there is no evidence that this provocation had any measurable effect. Later, a smaller follow-up action was attempted, presumably in the hope that cumulative efforts would undermine the West’s perception of Ukrainians.
Today, such operations and fabrications continue systematically and frequently, using diverse channels. What is the value of these archival documents? They openly record these activities. The intelligence services boast about them and report to the Communist Party, presenting these campaigns as effective achievements.
In the 1970s, something unexpected for the Soviet Union occurred: Ukrainians and Jews within the diaspora began finding common ground. Many Soviet Jews also held anti-Soviet views, particularly advocating for their right to emigrate and for the memory of the Holocaust, which was largely suppressed in the USSR. While the events themselves could be mentioned, including Babyn Yar, it was forbidden to note that the majority of victims there were Jews.
In Ukraine, after Ukrainian nationalists, the second most problematic group for the Soviet regime were Jews, who were labeled as Zionists regardless of their political views due to their active stance. These groups began collaborating abroad, as they shared a common enemy—the Soviet regime. To sow discord between them, the KGB fabricated a leaflet in Hebrew and Yiddish against Ukrainian nationalists. It included alleged antisemitic quotes from Yaroslav Stetsko[1] and calls to kill this "vicious antisemite."
At the time, some Jewish activists in the West were quite radical, including figures like Meir Kahane[2], and there were instances of attacks on Soviet representatives. The leaflet (which, incidentally, contained numerous errors) was distributed to various Jewish organizations. The KGB likely hoped, at best, for direct action against Stetsko—who then headed the Banderite faction of the OUN, considered by the KGB to be one of the primary threats to the Soviet regime. At worst, they aimed to strain the emerging rapprochement between Jews and Ukrainians. Whether this provocation had any tangible results remains unclear, as no evidence has surfaced.
Oleksandr Skrypnyk, who works with the archives of the Foreign Intelligence Service, uncovered another fabricated document targeting Yaroslav Stetsko, related to the so-called "Nekro" operation. The KGB published an obituary for Stetsko while he was still alive (a year before his death). Stetsko was in poor health, and the plan likely counted on the shock potentially causing his heart to fail.
The KGB employed similar tactics against the Poles. In the 1980s, Ukrainian organizations began to align with Polish diaspora groups. When the Solidarity movement[3] emerged in Poland, drawing global attention, Ukrainians saw an example to emulate. They believed that the tactics used by Solidarity, which boasted a membership of over a million, could inspire their own struggle against the Soviet regime.
Historically, Ukrainian and Polish organizations had not seen eye-to-eye, largely due to lingering memories of events like the Volhynia massacre[4] during World War II, as well as certain Polish groups clinging to territorial claims over Galicia. However, by the 1980s, these painful historical issues receded into the background. Instead, what united them—their shared opposition to Moscow—came to the forefront.
At this time, the KGB began distributing materials to Polish organizations that rekindled memories of Ukrainian nationalists and events of the 1940s. These materials were often filled with fabrications, such as the claim that the Galicia Division had participated in suppressing the Warsaw Uprising. There is no evidence to support this—Galicia Division was not present in Warsaw—but the KGB, writing in Polish and pretending to represent outraged Poles, sent letters to Polish organizations accusing them of collaborating with Ukrainians who had allegedly committed atrocities in Warsaw. The intention was to create a rift between the two groups.
Even among Ukrainians, reconciliation proved elusive. For example, the Bandera [5] and Melnyk [6] factions, which had been at odds during the war, attempted to reconcile while living in Munich after the war. However, the KGB intervened by circulating a forged leaflet about alleged episodes of fratricide in the 1930s and 1940s, reigniting tensions and preventing unity.
This systematic strategy was a source of pride for the KGB. While the 1930s were characterized by outright repression, the Cold War era and post-Stalinist period saw the Soviet regime employing more subtle and inventive tactics. Preventive measures became the preferred method. Officially, this meant summoning individuals involved in distributing samizdat for a "conversation" to warn them against future actions. These individuals were expected to promise compliance. In practice, however, these encounters often involved severe intimidation. Students, for instance, were threatened with expulsion from the Komsomol, removal from university, or being drafted into the army. By the 1980s, an additional threat emerged: fulfilling an "international duty" in Afghanistan.
Noncompliant individuals faced real consequences, including expulsion, imprisonment, and forced conscription.
Sometimes, on social media, claims circulate that the Cheka was composed entirely of Jews. This narrative seems to aim at shifting responsibility from the Russian regime in Moscow—the true origin of this oppression—onto a specific ethnic group. In fact, some of these claims involved falsifying Jewish surnames for non-Jewish individuals in historical records. This crude manipulation is easily debunked with archival documents.
At a certain point, in the early stages of the Cheka during the 1920s and early 1930s, there was indeed a significant proportion of individuals of Jewish origin within its ranks. However, they largely lacked any Jewish self-awareness. Their ethnicity might only come up when they were arrested themselves and needed to fill out forms. Did they attend synagogue, preserve their language, or honor the traditions of their people?
There is no evidence to suggest they did. By the time of the KGB, there were practically no Jews left in the organization. But did the ethnicity of a colonel within this system change anything? First and foremost, they were members of the Communist Party and belonged to the closed, elite caste of Chekists. This was of primary importance above all else.
[1] Yaroslav Stetsko (1912–1986): Ukrainian nationalist and politician, head of the Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists-B (OUN-B) after World War II.
[2] Meir Kahane (1932–1990): American-Israeli radical political activist, founder of the Jewish Defense League (JDL).
[3] Solidarity (Polish: Solidarność): A Polish trade union and political movement that played a major role in opposing communist rule in Poland during the 1980s.
[4] Volhynia Massacre (1943–1944): A series of massacres of Polish civilians carried out by the Ukrainian Insurgent Army (UPA) during World War II.
[5] Bandera faction: A faction of the Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists (OUN) led by Stepan Bandera, emphasizing militant resistance to Soviet rule.
[6] Melnyk faction: A more moderate faction of the OUN led by Andriy Melnyk, which often clashed with the Bandera faction over strategy and ideology.