In 2016, I took on the leadership of the Society during a time when the decommunization laws had already been passed. Therefore, I decided to make working with youth one of the main focuses of our organization’s activities, to remind them of the repressions that took place in Ukraine and to foster a sense of patriotism and love for their homeland. The project is called “Decommunization as a Key Factor in National-Patriotic Education of Youth.” As part of this project, we search for lesser-known or entirely unknown figures who lived in or were connected with Sicheslavshchyna (now Dnipropetrovsk Oblast) and fought against the communist regime. These were not just victims but active participants in resisting the system.

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To date, we have published 16 biographical profiles of such individuals. Each person has a dedicated large banner that can be displayed during discussions about their life. We hold lectures in libraries and educational institutions. For many years, our Society was led by the well-known dissident Vasyl Siryi [1], who spent over 13 years in psychiatric hospitals during Soviet times. In 2020, partly on the initiative of the Society of Political Prisoners and Repressed Persons, a documentary titled “Punitive Psychiatry”—also known as “Ihren”—was released. It reveals the methods of “psychiatric” punishment used in the Soviet Union. Ihren is a well-known psychiatric hospital on the outskirts of Dnipro. Our city also had a psychiatric facility located on the grounds of the former pre-trial detention center, where people branded as "mentally ill" were placed. Vasyl Siryi was not mentally ill; he was a victim of a Soviet special services invention—punitive psychiatry. Another notable dissident, Leonid Plyushch [2], also endured these tortures. I saw my mission as showcasing the heroic resistance to the regime during a time when Ukraine was not yet a state.

 

Additionally, in 2018, amendments were made to the law on the rehabilitation of victims of political repressions, and for the first time, the category of children recognized as victims of repression was established. These individuals were to be granted the appropriate status. Among our lists were many elderly people who had lost their parents during the years 1937-1938 and who bore the label of being “family members of enemies of the people” throughout their lives. This stigma hindered them from pursuing education, attaining high positions, and left them as “second-class citizens,” marginalized from society. To obtain the status of victims of repression, they had to go through the regional rehabilitation commission, after which their documents were forwarded to Kyiv, where the National Commission [3] makes the final decision.

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Unfortunately, this status does not provide any benefits under current legislation. However, thanks to the initiative of our Society, the Dnipro City Council became one of the first in Ukraine to adopt a resolution to assist such individuals. Now, they receive an additional 1,000 UAH to their pensions each month. Each year, our Society submits recommendations to the City Council and compiles lists of these individuals. Over the course of the year, the list may change as new people are added or, unfortunately, others pass away. Currently, there are 26 people on the list.

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I hope to extend this experience across the entire region. Although there are currently few people in the region with this status, many have grounds to apply for it. However, people are aware that the status doesn’t come with any privileges, so they are hesitant to go through the process. According to the Pension Fund, there could be up to 300 such individuals in the region today. Some are listed as family members of repressed or rehabilitated individuals, and they are entitled to receive this status if they were born before their parents were released.

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In 2016, according to the Pension Fund, there were 1,034 people in the region who were connected to or suffered from repressions. Today, around 300 remain, most of them elderly and, unfortunately, passing away.

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I became involved in this field by chance. By profession, I am a geophysical engineer. I worked in Yakutia, the Urals, and the North Caucasus before moving to Dnipropetrovsk in 1979. Over time, I even became the chief engineer of a rather significant geophysical expedition. Later, however, I was unjustly convicted. I fought to return illegally privatized property to the state, but in the end, I was held responsible.

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As an active civic participant (a member of the People's Movement of Ukraine since February 1990), I could not accept how property belonging to our expedition—a strategic enterprise protected from privatization by a resolution of the Verkhovna Rada of Ukraine—ended up in the hands of a group of fraudsters through deception and forged documents.

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The seven and a half months I spent in prison—though I was sentenced to two years and released early under an amnesty—were enough for me to understand what imprisonment truly means. After being released in 2003, I initially organized a private enterprise for wastewater treatment and intended to work in this field.

 

However, with the onset of the Orange Revolution [4], my private endeavors took a backseat. The wave of national enthusiasm swept me up as well, and I began working at the Amur-Nyzhnodniprovsk District Election Headquarters for the presidential candidate Viktor Yushchenko [5]. After his victory, I became the head of the district branch of the "Our Ukraine" People's Union Party. I then worked for another two years as a geologist in a private company.

 

After retiring in 2009, I continued my civic engagement as the deputy head of the city organization Prosvita. In May 2016, I agreed to lead the regional Society of Political Prisoners and Repressed Persons. Later, in 2019, I was also elected as the head of the Rehabilitation Commission.

 

I’ve had to learn a lot on my own, primarily by studying legislation, delving into the social issues faced by members of the organization, and even pursuing the restoration of their legal rights in courts.

 

But now I understand how important this work is. We passed the law on decommunization and removed controversial communist figures from their pedestals. But who should replace them? We have plenty of worthy individuals! So many people gave their lives to achieve Ukrainian independence. The question is, do we know who they are? And we must know!

 

"CAUSE OF DEATH – UKRAINIAN"

According to statistical data, around 200,000 people in the region suffered from repressions during 1936–1939. However, repressions in fact began immediately after the Bolsheviks liquidated the Ukrainian People’s Republic [6].

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Protests against the authorities were met with severe punishments. There were peasant uprisings here as early as 1921–1923, led by atamans who came from the people. These were individuals who had been promised land and freedom but rose up against the grain requisition policies (prodrazvyorstka) because the quotas for bread, meat, and vegetables required by the state were so high that farmers were left with nothing for themselves. The Soviet authorities labeled these insurgents as bandits because they attacked convoys confiscating grain from the peasants. These uprisings led to military clashes and serious battles.

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Such uprisings erupted almost throughout the entire region. The leaders of these uprisings are well-known; they were later convicted by extraordinary commissions, and criminal cases against them exist. A book has been published about this underground resistance against the communist regime in 1921–1923.

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We reviewed the case of one such leader, Tryfon Hladchenko, in our commission. We recommended that the National Commission [7], support our proposal for his rehabilitation because, as stated in the criminal case, his fight was aimed at achieving Ukrainian statehood and restoring the Ukrainian People’s Republic.

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According to the law passed in 2015 regarding the recognition and commemoration of those who fought for Ukraine’s independence in the 20th century, all armed units, members of such formations, or individuals who participated in the armed struggle with the goal of achieving Ukrainian independence are officially recognized as fighters for Ukraine’s independence.

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The second wave came in 1929, when collectivization began. Farms were forcibly merged into collective farms (kolkhozy), and property, land, and everything people owned were confiscated. This led to another wave of uprisings across Ukraine. One of the most notable in our region was the Pavlohrad Uprising. Residents of several villages united and declared they did not recognize Soviet authority and refused to join collective farms. The government had to call in the military to suppress the rebellion. The leaders of the uprising and the number of peasants involved in this resistance are well-documented. The epicenter of the rebellion was the village of Verbky.

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Collectivization targeted so-called kulaks, or wealthy peasants—today, we would call them farmers. These people owned property and livestock and often had large families working their own land, sometimes hiring two or three additional workers.

When they were "dekulakized"—their property confiscated and their families exiled, either within Ukraine or, more often, to Siberia—there was no one left to resist. Poor peasants lacked weapons, resources, or any means to fight back. Nevertheless, they organized what came to be known as volynky—protests where only women participated, as men were immediately arrested if they joined.

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At first, the Soviet authorities were at a loss—they didn’t know how to deal with women. But eventually, they stopped “hesitating” and began arresting women as well. In this way, the protests were crushed, leaving people with no choice but to die in silence.

I can share one story. This didn’t happen in our region, but a woman who lived through it approached our commission. She now resides in Dnipro and is 95 years old. Her name is Tetiana Malykina (née Rudenko).

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Her family lived on a farmstead called Rudenko (it was common at the time for farms to bear the name of their owners). In 1929, her father was first arrested for six months for failing to pay some taxes. At the time, he was 37 years old, his wife was 36, and they had five children. They owned a sizeable farm: sheep, several cows and horses, two shepherd dogs, and two wells. Then came the order for their deportation.

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At that time, quotas were set for each region and district specifying how many people were to be deported beyond Ukraine’s borders. The decision was made by a “troika”—a group of three officials who determined who would be sent away. Their family was chosen. All their property and livestock were confiscated, their dogs were shot and thrown into the well—all of it done in front of the family. At the time, this woman was only three years old, and her parents later recounted these events to her.

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They were loaded into train cars along with other families gathered from the district and deported to the Molotov region (now Perm region). There, they were placed in wooden barracks, living in hunger and cold. This little girl started working at the age of six.

“They made us sweep the premises and clean the toilets. My mother worked in one place, my father in another. We lived under strict regulations: from this time to that time, you had to be in a specific place,” she recalled.

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These were, in essence, the regulated facilities that later became known as the GULAG.

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She lived under such conditions until she was sixteen. Her older brothers were conscripted into the army during World War II. One of them was killed, while two returned and settled in Dnipropetrovsk. After the war, the entire family was released. She joined her brothers, later graduated from an institute, and worked her whole life here. Yet she still seeks an answer to the question: Why?

“We weren’t criminals,” she says. “Why did the authorities do this to our family?”

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There are countless examples like hers. Today, those who were dekulakized are also recognized as victims of repression, as these were truly mass repressions. Many great-grandchildren now submit documents seeking rehabilitation for their great-grandparents. Entire families—10 to 11 people—were affected, as large families were common in Ukraine.

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In total, about a million dekulakized individuals, along with their families, were deported, nearly 200,000 of them from our region alone—beyond the borders of Ukraine. Those who remained were forced into collective farms. However, after witnessing the conditions in these kolkhozy, many people began to leave them.

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Meanwhile, Moscow demanded grain. Large construction projects had begun: DniproHES [8], power plants, railroads… They needed to pay for equipment. And where did they get it? From abroad, since they had almost nothing of their own. And what served as currency? Grain. A ship loaded with grain was sent, foreign currency was received, equipment was purchased, and foreign engineers were paid.

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Where was the most grain? In Ukraine. So, they started with Ukraine. The Volga region and Northern Kazakhstan were also affected, but Ukraine suffered the worst fate. They confiscated every last grain, often without purpose, as the grain was stored in large barns for so long that it rotted there.

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Each kolkhoz was assigned quotas for grain delivery. If they failed to meet them, the village was placed on the "black list." Such villages were surrounded to prevent anyone from entering or leaving, and no food was delivered. People died silently, and cases of cannibalism occurred—parents cooked the youngest children to feed the older ones. While not widespread, such horrifying instances did happen.

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People ate anything they could find: cats, dogs, sparrows, frogs from ponds—anything that moved or could be caught. But most simply died quietly.

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In total, about a million dekulakized individuals, along with their families, were deported, nearly 200,000 of them from our region alone—beyond the borders of Ukraine. Those who remained were forced into collective farms. However, after witnessing the conditions in these kolkhozy, many people began to leave them.

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Meanwhile, Moscow demanded grain. Large construction projects had begun: DniproHES, power plants, railroads… They needed to pay for equipment. And where did they get it? From abroad, since they had almost nothing of their own. And what served as currency? Grain. A ship loaded with grain was sent, foreign currency was received, equipment was purchased, and foreign engineers were paid.

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Where was the most grain? In Ukraine. So, they started with Ukraine. The Volga region and Northern Kazakhstan were also affected, but Ukraine suffered the worst fate. They confiscated every last grain, often without purpose, as the grain was stored in large barns for so long that it rotted there.

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Each kolkhoz was assigned quotas for grain delivery. If they failed to meet them, the village was placed on the "black list." Such villages were surrounded to prevent anyone from entering or leaving, and no food was delivered. People died silently, and cases of cannibalism occurred—parents cooked the youngest children to feed the older ones. While not widespread, such horrifying instances did happen.

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People ate anything they could find: cats, dogs, sparrows, frogs from ponds—anything that moved or could be caught. But most simply died quietly.

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The statistics are profoundly tragic. According to the National Book of Memory of the Holodomor [9], the total population losses in the region due to famine and associated diseases in 1932–33 are estimated to be between 659,000 and 834,000 people. These figures, of course, are approximate, as no one kept official records of those who died of hunger. Death certificates listed causes such as "heart disease" or "lung disease," with occasional mentions of "starvation." In some cases, the cause of death was recorded as “Ukrainian.” Perhaps some conscientious record-keepers sought to leave truthful evidence for future generations about the genocide of the Ukrainian people.

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The number of victims varies among researchers. During President Yushchenko's administration in 2010, Ukraine held a trial of the organizers of the Holodomor  [10]  (posthumously, of course). At that time, the following statistics were presented: 4.5 million people perished, along with 600,000 unborn children.

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The memory of those famine years has been passed down through multiple generations of Ukrainians, even though it was forbidden to speak about it. In every family, bread was treated with utmost care: crumbs were never thrown away—they were gathered in the palm, either for chickens or birds. God forbid that bread be swept onto the floor! Dry bread was stored as well. Almost every peasant family (and likely many non-peasant families) kept a small bag tucked away somewhere on the stove as a reserve for times of hunger. Ukrainians, by tradition, have always been resourceful: salting pork fat, rendering lard, fermenting cabbage…

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I was born in 1951, and it took me some time to realize that I only had one grandmother. Where was the other? And what about the second grandfather? As I grew older, I learned that my grandmother died in December 1946 and my grandfather in February 1947. They were my father's parents and lived in the Vinnytsia region, which was severely affected by the post-war famine of 1946–47.

My father, born in 1927, was in Donbas at the time, undergoing vocational training at a factory school in Chasiv Yar—a place now witnessing intense and bloody battles. His younger brother, born a year later, had gone to Lviv to attend an infantry school, while the eldest brother was still serving in the military. There were three sons in the family.

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According to some estimates, the famine of 1946–47 claimed the lives of up to a million people in Ukraine. But where did this famine come from? During the German occupation, there was no famine—despite their brutality, the Germans did not take everything and left enough for the local population to survive. After liberation, however, the Soviet authorities treated Ukrainians who had been under occupation harshly, branding them as traitors and showing them no mercy.

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Had Ukraine been an independent state, such a tragedy would not have happened. A conqueror never values a foreign country or its people. And that regime was particularly inhumane. There wasn’t an ounce of humanity in it—just lofty slogans masking its sheer brutality. This ideology in Russia has remained unchanged, judging by the way it terrorizes the world today. Ukrainians are once again experiencing this firsthand, learning from bitter experience.

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As a result of mass deportations, dekulakization, and Stalinist repressions, Ukraine’s population dramatically decreased. Now, a demographic crisis is looming catastrophically close.

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This is why we must speak about repressions, remember them, and, most importantly, learn from the lessons of history. Without its own state, a nation cannot survive!

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HISTORY WON’T REHABILITATE EVERYONE…

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Since 1992, Ukraine has been implementing the state project “Rehabilitated by History” [11]. Under this initiative, special editorial boards have been established within regional state administrations to process archives, study KGB criminal cases, and compile lists of repressed and rehabilitated individuals. These lists are published in books, where one can look up the names of people who suffered repression and were later rehabilitated.

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In our region, 23,000 individuals have been included in the lists, while the archives of the Security Service of Ukraine (SBU) contain approximately 11,000 cases that still need to be reviewed. This means there could be many more people eligible for rehabilitation.

However, there have been cases where repression caught up with those who carried out the repressions themselves. For example, Hataievich [12], known as the organizer of the Holodomor in Ukraine, particularly in our region, was later executed by Stalin’s order. It’s important to distinguish between those who were innocently repressed or fought for Ukraine and those who perpetrated repressions but were ultimately destroyed by the system they served.

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The Russian organization Memorial made significant contributions to declassifying and publishing such materials. This was an important and noble effort. I often visited their website, as it contained a wealth of information about repressed Ukrainians. What the authorities have done to Memorial in Russia is, of course, appalling.

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For about two years now, I’ve been in contact with Oleksandr Korobochkin. Born in Nikopol and a graduate of the Metallurgical Institute in Dnipro, he somehow ended up in Canada, where he has lived for many years. He wants to rehabilitate his grandfather.

Korobochkin submitted documents to Moscow, but they replied that the grandfather’s case was classified and would remain so for 75 years from the sentencing date. He then turned to Kyiv, where the National Commission forwarded his request to our regional commission. I managed to locate some documents related to the case.

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It turns out that in 1947, his grandfather, already a colonel and decorated for his service in World War II, was convicted by a military tribunal in Kharkiv. However, the charges remain unclear, as there is no available information about the case. Just before the full-scale war, I submitted a request to the SBU archives in Kharkiv, as the conviction occurred within Kharkiv Oblast. They confirmed receipt of the request, but the war with Russia broke out shortly thereafter.

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To date, the only information available is that he was sent to a correctional labor camp in Kazakhstan. However, the certificate provides no mention of his rehabilitation. Recently, I submitted another request to Kharkiv, but there has been no response. It’s unclear whether their archives survived, and if they did, they are likely non-operational. Our own SBU archive is currently not responding to requests. The case remains unresolved.

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Let me share two stories that have sparked mixed reactions and may still develop further.

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The Story of Vasyl Kovalenko

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Documents were submitted to our rehabilitation commission regarding Vasyl Kovalenko, who once lived in the village of Malosofiivka (now part of Kamianske District). His family’s story is fascinating. During Ukraine’s struggle for independence (1917–1921), his father and two elder brothers fought in the army of the Ukrainian People’s Republic (UPR). After Ukraine lost the war to the Bolsheviks, they returned to their village to live quietly.

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In 1921–22, they participated in peasant uprisings but managed to avoid arrest. The family survived the famine, although not without loss—the wife of one brother passed away. Vasyl, the youngest, was first convicted in 1935 for failing to pay a tax. He was sentenced to five years, served his term, and returned home just before World War II.

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When the war broke out, Vasyl was mobilized and sent to the Uman region, where Soviet troops were encircled in what became known as the Uman Pocket. Many soldiers were captured, while others fled. Vasyl managed to escape with other soldiers to the Verkhivtseve station. Along the way, German planes bombed the train they were on, but Vasyl survived.

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From Verkhivtseve, it was a short distance to his home village, Malosofiivka, and he returned there on foot. After about a month of relative peace, he was summoned again by the military recruitment office and taken to Dnipropetrovsk. There, he was issued a rifle and uniform. This happened around August 23 or 24. By August 25, the Red Army had retreated to the left bank of the Dnipro River.

At the time, where the Kaidatsky Bridge now stands, there was a pontoon bridge. The Red Army retreated across it and fortified new positions but left the bridge intact. The Germans also crossed the bridge to the left bank, and heavy fighting ensued.

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More details about Vasyl’s life and fate follow, revealing the complexities of his experiences during wartime and his subsequent persecution by the Soviet authorities. This story underscores the challenges of rehabilitating individuals whose lives were deeply intertwined with the tragic events of their era.

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At the location of the present-day Kaidatsky Bridge [13], there was then a pontoon bridge. The Red Army retreated across it and fortified new positions but did not destroy the bridge. The Germans used the same bridge to cross to the left bank of the Dnipro. Heavy fighting ensued in the area, and about two weeks later, Vasyl, according to his testimony, was captured. However, the Germans often released local captives, taking their weapons but letting them return home. Vasyl was among those released and returned to his village.

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The Germans did not dismantle the collective farms, as they relied on them for provisions. Vasyl returned to work on the collective farm. Around this time, an auxiliary police force was established to maintain order in the village. A relative of Vasyl joined this police force, and at his request, Vasyl also became a member. Despite this, Vasyl secretly sheltered a Red Army soldier, an Armenian, who had been separated from his unit.

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In the fall of 1942, during the Battle of Stalingrad, the Germans began collecting winter clothing for their troops. They gathered coats, jackets, hats, and gloves from local villagers. A district policeman arrived with a list that included only those who were or whose children were known communists. These individuals were the primary targets for requisitioning. Vasyl accompanied the policeman during these collections.

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By spring, the Germans resumed collecting food and grain from the villagers. Vasyl refused to assist with these efforts and was dismissed from the auxiliary police, returning to work on the collective farm.

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In 1943, as the Red Army launched its offensive, the retreating Germans began deporting adult males from the area. Vasyl was among those taken and transported to a temporary camp in Moldova. After several weeks, he escaped and rejoined the Red Army.

For a year, Vasyl fought with the Red Army, advancing through Hungary and reaching Germany. In the fall of 1945, after the war had ended, he was awarded the Medal “For the Capture of Berlin” and returned home.

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However, as the frontlines moved forward, the NKVD began operations to identify and apprehend "traitors" who had collaborated with the Germans. Vasyl was accused of such collaboration. He explained that he had fought on the Soviet side and had received a military award, but this did not save him. He was sentenced to 10 years in prison.

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In 1953, Vasyl was released under Beria’s amnesty [14]. Tragically, on his way home, he was killed on a train.

Now, his children have submitted an application to rehabilitate their father.

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By the way, Vasyl’s elder brothers were arrested during the Great Terror in 1937–38 and both were executed. Their family only learned about this many years later. The Soviet regime inflicted every imaginable hardship on this family. Yet, our National Commission refused to rehabilitate Vasyl Kovalenko. I do not know the reasons for this decision. The law stipulates that all circumstances must be taken into account. However, by such a decision, we effectively endorse the communist regime that repressed Vasyl.

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We passed the decommunization law, condemning the regime, but at the same time, we fail to rehabilitate those who suffered under it. I was shocked by this decision by the commission and even considered advising Vasyl’s children to appeal the decision in court. Perhaps they will have to.

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Another Case That Ended Without Resolution

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A man and a woman came to me with a case; they were not related but their mothers had been in the same labor camp. In 1942, the Germans conducted a raid in Dnipropetrovsk, capturing young men and women to send them to forced labor in Germany. Initially, this process was voluntary: the youth were enticed with promises of modern life, good pay, and decent living conditions.

However, letters from the first volunteers soon revealed the harsh reality. Life was nothing like what was promised. As a result, people no longer agreed to go voluntarily. Resistance also came from partisans and members of the Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists (OUN), who explained why going to Germany was dangerous and wrong.

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Despite this, the Germans conducted raids, forcibly seizing young people. Among those captured were the mothers of the man and woman who approached me. Their story reflects the complex, often tragic circumstances under which Ukrainians were taken to forced labor camps.

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During the raid, these young women were taken. Two were from Dnipropetrovsk, and one was from Kryvyi Rih. They traveled together on the same train and ended up in the same town. Upon arrival, they were questioned, and the Germans were particularly interested in who spoke German. It turned out that all three had learned the language in school and understood it to some extent.

I reviewed their criminal cases and reconstructed the events based on the records.

 

They were brought to a large camp enclosed by fences, with several barracks on the premises. The women were assigned to different barracks and appointed as “responsible for order” within their respective barracks. However, their daily routines were no different from those of the other prisoners: they worked in a factory during the day, manufacturing shells or bearings, and returned to the barracks in the evening.

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Apparently, they were given occasional days off, during which they were allowed to leave the camp but had to return by a certain time. On one such occasion, two girls returned late. A German female overseer, known for her particular cruelty according to the case materials, ordered that the girls be taken to the bathhouse and doused with water. The women in charge of the barracks were instructed to carry out this punishment.

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When the camp was liberated by American forces, the women returned home. However, one of the girls who had been doused with water filed a denunciation with the NKVD, accusing the barracks leaders of mistreating Soviet women.

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An investigation ensued. By then, the barracks leaders had married, had children, and lived in different cities. They were tracked down, and witnesses who had been in the same camp were also located. The witnesses recalled, in addition to the water-dousing incident, two other “crimes”: one girl had her hair cut (the accused explained that the girl had lice and there was no other option), and another had taken some apples from the vegetable warehouse where they worked, hidden them under her pillow, and been caught by a German overseer. These minor incidents were now used as evidence against the women.

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The verdict was harsh—25 years in prison for “treason against the motherland.” They were sent to Chukotka. After filing an appeal, their sentences were reduced to 10 years. They served their full terms and returned to Dnipropetrovsk.

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A lot of time has passed since then, and these women are no longer alive, but their children decided to seek rehabilitation for their mothers. I was confident that we would rehabilitate them because, in essence, there was no crime. What were they imprisoned for? For being forcibly taken to Germany for labor, for working alongside other Ostarbeiters in a factory, and for being forced to maintain order in the barracks?

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During our commission meeting, everyone voted in favor of rehabilitation, except for one representative from the Human Rights Committee, surprisingly enough. However, that individual is no longer in their position.

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In Kyiv, however, the decision was to deny rehabilitation. When I asked for the reasoning, I was told, "The argument is that they were officials." I responded, "Come on, you’ve never been in prison. I have, and I know what it means to be a 'brigadier.' They’re just as much under duress as everyone else. Today you’re the brigadier; tomorrow, someone else is."

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It seems possible to challenge this decision in court, but will their children be ready to endure such an ordeal?

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"AMID RUINS, HE SPENT HIS LIFE SEARCHING FOR UKRAINE"

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In the early 20th century, during the 1920s and 1930s, many writers and artists in Dnipropetrovsk were arrested. One of the members of our society, now sadly deceased, was Mykola Oleksandrovych Sarma-Sokolovsky. He was born in the village of Khoroshe, in the Petropavlivka district of Dnipropetrovsk Oblast.

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At the age of 19, he was arrested for collaborating with the underground organization SUM (Union for the Liberation of Ukraine) [15]. In reality, his "crime" was performing in a bandura ensemble, which was considered "chauvinistic propaganda." He was imprisoned in Dnipropetrovsk and shared a cell with Vasyl Chaplenko [16].

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In 1930, Mykola was sentenced to five years in prison. He served his sentence initially working in logging camps in Karelia, later participating in the construction of the White Sea–Baltic Canal. At one point, he attempted an escape. Together with two other prisoners, he made his way toward the Finnish border, coming very close to crossing it. However, about a week later, they were discovered sleeping by border guards.

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Mykola’s talent as an artist saved him from execution. Before his escape, he had drawn a portrait of the camp commandant's son, which greatly pleased the commandant’s wife. She pleaded with her husband to spare Mykola’s life.

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After his release, Mykola was conscripted into military service and sent to the Far East. While en route, the train was delayed for a long time due to flooding, and he managed to escape. Using forged documents, he enrolled in the Kyiv Art Institute. After graduating, he worked as an artist in Crimea.

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The war caught him with his wife and young daughter in Poltava. In June 1941, he was undergoing retraining as an officer in the logistics corps. During an evacuation, their train was bombed, and once again, he fled. He returned to already-occupied Poltava, joined the Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists (OUN), and became the OUN leader in the Poltava region.

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In 1942, a betrayal led the Gestapo to arrest and execute OUN members, including his wife. By that time, after attending pastoral courses of the Ukrainian Autocephalous Orthodox Church (UAOC), he had been ordained as a priest. The now-widowed Father Mykola was supported by a parishioner who later became his wife, and they had two more daughters.

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However, the family had to leave Poltava, eventually settling in Bukovyna. In late 1944, Mykola Sokolovsky was arrested by the NKVD. He escaped during transportation, returned to Bukovyna, was captured again, and escaped once more. According to his wife, he was often transferred from one camp to another because he was deemed a high escape risk.

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Living under a false name, he worked in Donbas. Later, risking everything, he traveled to Kolomyia and reconnected with the OUN underground. However, a betrayal led to his arrest in 1948. Sokolovsky was sentenced to death, spending 15 days in a death row cell before his sentence was commuted to 25 years in a high-security labor camp. His two brothers and wife received the same sentence. He served his time in Vorkuta, and she in Mordovia.

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After Stalin’s death, their sentences were reduced. She was released earlier, took the children from Ukraine, and joined her husband at his place of imprisonment. In 1961, the family finally returned to Ukraine, but they were not allowed to register their residence. They settled in Donbas, as it was the only place that accepted everyone. Over ten years later, they moved to Novomoskovsk in the Dnipropetrovsk region. In total, Mykola spent nearly 30 years in captivity.

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He was an extraordinarily talented person. He was an excellent artist, leaving behind collections of poetry. He learned to play the bandura and even made his own bandura while in a labor camp, forming a bandura ensemble with fellow prisoners in Inta [17].

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In Novomoskovsk, he had a small parish where he conducted services and painted portraits of Shevchenko. He created approximately 50 portraits, one of which he gifted to the well-known dissident Mykola Berislavsky; it now belongs to Berislavsky’s daughter, Lyudmyla.

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I visited Mykola Sarma-Sokolovsky’s home only once, and I was struck by the fact that he never locked his door. He feared nothing. “What is there to fear?” he said. “God protects me.” By the way, "Sarma" was a pseudonym he chose for his literary work. The word refers to a part of a river that never freezes in winter or dries up in summer. That’s how he saw himself, believing that the ice would never cover him.

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“Amid ruins, I spent my life searching for Ukraine,” wrote Sarma-Sokolovsky. “I sought her and saw only her horizons. But this path of searching gave my life meaning, lifting me above the petty concerns of mere existence.”

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[1] Vasyl Ivanovych Siryi (1926–2011): A geography teacher and victim of punitive psychiatry. He authored the book “The Detriment of the One-Party System and Its Consequences.” In 1994, he voluntarily underwent an examination by the Association of Psychiatrists of Ukraine, which determined that he had never had any mental illnesses. Since 1989, he collaborated with the All-Ukrainian Society of Political Prisoners and Repressed.

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[2] Leonid Ivanovych Plyushch (1939–2015): A Ukrainian mathematician, publicist, literary scholar, human rights defender, and dissident. From 1973 to 1976, he was held in Soviet punitive psychiatry facilities. Released under international pressure, he emigrated to France. He was associated with socialist anti-Soviet movements and authored an autobiographical book, “In the Carnival of History,” which has been republished in many countries.

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[3] National Rehabilitation Commission: Provides the status of rehabilitated or repressed individuals to victims of repression by the communist totalitarian regime from 1917 to 1991. It was established under the Ukrainian Institute of National Memory.

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[4] Orange Revolution (November–December 2004): A campaign of protests, rallies, pickets, and strikes in Ukraine organized and carried out by supporters of Viktor Yushchenko, the main opposition candidate in the presidential election. The protests began after the Central Election Commission announced preliminary falsified results, claiming that his opponent, Viktor Yanukovych, had won. In the repeat runoff election, Viktor Yushchenko emerged victorious.

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[5] Viktor Andriyovych Yushchenko (b. 1954): Ukrainian politician, statesman, and banker. He served as the 3rd President of Ukraine (January 23, 2005 – February 25, 2010).

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[6] Ukrainian People's Republic (UPR): A Ukrainian state with Kyiv as its capital that existed from 1917 to 1921, controlling the central, eastern, and southern territories of Ukraine. In 1921, the territory of the republic was divided following the Riga Treaty between Poland on one side and Soviet Russia and the Ukrainian SSR on the other. From 1920 to 1992, the UPR government operated in exile before transferring its powers to the authorities of independent Ukraine.

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[7] All-Russian Extraordinary Commission for Combating Counter-Revolution and Sabotage (Cheka): The state security agency of the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic from 1917 to 1922. Founded and led by F. E. Dzerzhinsky, it carried out special operations in Ukraine and beyond from 1918 to 1922, targeting leaders of the UPR and the anti-Bolshevik insurgent movement. It was reorganized into the State Political Directorate (GPU) in 1922.

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[8] Dnieper Hydroelectric Station (DniproHES): A hydroelectric power plant on the Dnieper River located in Zaporizhzhia. Construction began in March 1927 as part of the USSR's industrialization program. By 1939, all nine hydroelectric units were operational. In August 1941, after German troops advanced into the Zaporizhzhia region, NKVD workers destroyed the dam. German engineering units restored the damaged section, but they only partially destroyed the dam during their retreat. The station was rebuilt from 1944 to 1950 and modernized in the late 1990s and early 2000s. Since the full-scale Russian invasion of Ukraine (beginning February 24, 2022), the station has suffered 40 attacks, leaving it in critical condition.

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[9] National Book of Memory of the Victims of the Holodomor 1932–1933 in Ukraine: Published in 2008 by the Ukrainian Institute of National Memory, the book consists of a national volume and 18 regional volumes prepared in the areas affected by the Holodomor.

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[10] On January 13, 2010, the Kyiv Court of Appeal confirmed the findings of investigators from Ukraine's Security Service regarding the orchestration of the Holodomor genocide (1932–1933) by Stalin, Molotov, Kaganovich, Postyshev, Kosior, Chubar, and Khataevich. They artificially created conditions calculated to partially destroy the Ukrainian national group. The court closed the case due to the perpetrators' deaths. No criminal conviction for genocide was issued, as Ukraine's criminal procedure law does not allow for posthumous sentencing.

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[11] Rehabilitated by History: A scientific-documentary book series aimed at restoring historical justice, shedding light on the tragic events in Ukraine's history, and preserving the undeservedly forgotten names of state figures, scientists, artists, workers, and peasants. As of July 2015, the series includes 100 volumes, with an electronic National Database of Victims of Political Repression in development.

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[12] Mendel Markovich Khataevich (1893–1937): A Soviet party and state official, one of the organizers of the Holodomor of 1932–1933. He served as a member of the Politburo of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Ukraine (1932–1937) and simultaneously as First Secretary of the Dnipropetrovsk Regional Committee of the CP(b)U (1933–1937). He was executed in 1937 and rehabilitated in 1956.

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[13] Kaidatsky Bridge (Kodatsky): An automobile bridge over the Dnieper in Dnipro. It was opened on November 5, 1982.

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[14] The Amnesty Decree of March 27, 1953: Issued by the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR, this was the largest amnesty in terms of the number of individuals released in the history of the USSR and Russia. Estimates range from 1,201,738 to 1,349,263 released individuals. However, it resulted in a surge in crime among the released, reaching alarming levels in some regions. The expected release of political prisoners did not occur.

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[15] Ukrainian Youth Association (SUM): A civic organization uniting Ukrainian youth on a voluntary basis, fostering conscious, honest, and hardworking citizens devoted to Ukraine. Established in 1925, the organization resumed activities after World War II in exile and in Ukraine at the end of the 1980s, during a renewed struggle for independence.

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[16] Vasyl Chaplenko (1900–1990): A Ukrainian writer, playwright, literary and linguistic scholar, critic, and editor. He served seven months of imprisonment in 1929. In 1943, he emigrated to Germany and later to the United States in 1949.

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[17] Inta Correctional Labor Camp: A unit of the USSR's GULAG system under the Ministry of Internal Affairs. It was separated from the Vorkuta Correctional Labor Camp in November 1941, where Inta had been a subdivision. The main focus was the development and exploitation of the Inta coal deposit. In 1948, the Intalag camp became Special Camp No. 1 "Mineralny" (Minlag), the largest in the GULAG system in Russia's European North. It was closed in March 1957, with all camp units transferred to the Pechora Correctional Labor Camp.

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