Even delegations from NATO countries such as the U.S. and Canada came to express solidarity with the Ukrainians in 2017. The occasion was Ukraine’s 26th Independence Day and its aspirations towards the West, Europe and a liberal society. For most people in the West, the fog of the Euromaidan still hangs over Kyiv’s boulevard of Khreschtashtyk. When hundreds of thousands protested against then-President Yanukovych, who, under pressure from the Kremlin, threw an already negotiated association agreement with the European Union into the wastebasket in order to remain in Russia’s orbit.
For many, the revolt was primarily about visa-free travel to Europe. It would have allowed young Ukrainians to spontaneously attend a music festival in Poland, take a beach vacation in Cyprus, or visit their numerous relatives who lived and worked all over the West. But what meant even more to the young Ukrainians was the shedding of the still very present Soviet stink and the still lingering fatalism of an older generation that had grown up with the mindset that there was nothing they could do about their fate anyway.
They hoped that rapprochement with the West would unravel the Gordian knot, provide them with economic prospects beyond casual jobs, long-term life planning, secure social systems free of corruption and economic freedom, just as it was already a reality for their peers over the Czech and Polish borders. In the burgeoning cities of Lviv, Kiev and Odessa, there is no sign of the war raging at the same time in the east, which has long since claimed the lives of 10,000 Ukrainians. Instead, the Khreschtashtyk turns into a stage every weekend, where water games are performed under AC/DC’s Thunderstruck.
The European shop window in the West
Western Ukraine, above all the former Habsburg cities of Chernivtsi and Lviv, has always had a close relationship with the West and above all with Poland, which in some cases still provides them with simplified work visas. Polish license plates thus also characterize the cityscape, because in this way one saves the horrendous import duties when registering a car in Ukraine. Poland’s orientation toward the West has made it a success story. Since 2000, the average income of a Pole had tripled from 4,500 US-Dollars to 13,800 Dollars in 2017 – that of Ukrainians stagnated at 2,000 US-Dollars per year, despite similar starting conditions after the fall of communism.
This did not go unnoticed by Lvivians a few kilometers across the border, as more and more Polish tourists with purchasing power flocked to the historic Old Town. Yuri Zastavny was one of those residents of the city who took advantage of the business opportunities. In 10 years as a regional manager for the Swiss agricultural company Syngenta, he learned the culture of doing business in Western Europe. But, Yuri says, he always wanted to own his own business. He finally found his business idea in Belgium in the form of a craft beer named after the Ukrainian Cossack Taras Bulbas, a short story by Nikolai Gogol.
In the years that followed, Yuri spent his vacations and days off helping out at Dutch and Belgian breweries to come up with his own ideas for what his business model could look like. Due to the inefficient banking system, Yuri was forced to raise the necessary start-up capital from friends and relatives. In this way, he was able to renovate a building and purchase modern equipment from the Czech Republic. In 2013, he and three other partners finally opened Pravda, the country’s first “open beer theater.” The brewing process and machinery can be viewed by all guests while they eat and drink.
Despite the low cost of labor in Ukraine, Yuri’s brewery was never intended to be a cheap beer. On the contrary, he places great emphasis on quality, which is why he first employed a young female brewer from Belgium and later even an American. Through their know-how, he brought the American craft beer revolution to Europe, Yuri says. Polish and German brewers are far too stuck in their traditions, and find it difficult to cope with the varying quality of Ukrainian raw materials. His success proves him right: Pravda’s 2,000 liters of beer per day are exported as far as Canada and have long since won various international prizes, such as the silver medal at the Brussels Beer Challenge 2017.
Entrepreneurship flourishes
Although the general conditions for doing business in Ukraine are poor, Yuri does not want to overstate the risks of corrupt politics and the harassment of the bureaucracy; the majority of businesses fail due to the inability of their owners, who approach them with the wrong motivation. Johannes Trenkwalder, who works for the law firm CMS Reich-Rohrwig Hainz and assists foreign companies in establishing themselves in the country, takes the same line. He says that Ukraine has often been predicted an enthusiastic new beginning, which then came to nothing.
Ukraine has a talent for not leveraging its potential, Trenkwalder says. In fact, companies from abroad are ready to invest, after all, the country has some of the most productive soils of all with its black earth. The 42 million Ukrainians also represent a significant market and the young people are well educated and their wages are cheaper than almost anywhere else in Europe. Google and Facebook have therefore outsourced their IT departments, as have smaller mail order companies. But not to any significant extent due to the uncertain political situation.
It is an open secret that the self-proclaimed Lugansk and Donetsk People’s Republics would collapse without unofficial funding from Russia. Even the former security minister of the self-proclaimed Donetsk People’s Republic confirmed this in a Reuters interview. Two-thirds of the remaining 2.7 million inhabitants are pensioners who draw their pensions from Russia. The only way to make a good living is in the military, says Natalya, who was born and raised there. A doctor colleague of hers transferred from the civilian sector to Donetsk’s military hospital, which quadrupled her salary.
Even the salary of a university director is barely enough for more than the most basic food, and there is a general curfew after 11 p.m., which would be enforced by the military. Nevertheless, the clubs in the city center would still be full around midnight. Who is partying there, however, is not known. But the police have new cars: the Range Rover brand. The concept of the western chains still exists, McDonalds is now called Donmak, Metro Most and Starbucks Starducks, but the quality and service cannot convince anyone. Since the new owners would be appointed by public authorities anyway, they would have no incentive to improve anything. It was precisely this oligarchic system of favoritism that Ukrainians hoped to shake off in 2014 with the Euromaidan.
How to build a country
But nothing happens overnight. Whether it’s from the poppy hipster venues in Kiev’s historic Podil to state-supporting institutions, the place is run almost exclusively by young people. It’s almost as if their parents are on vacation. And almost always, everything seems improvised, too. Too many mismatched desks crammed together in small spaces. Activists work at them on their – often private – laptops to build up their country. For example, the Ukraine Crisis Media Centre, which in 2014 kept the world informed about the Euromaidan from a private apartment and where today high-ranking military officers give press conferences about the course of the war in the east.
Ukraine has most fertile soil making it the breadbasket of the world.
Dried fish in the markets of Odessa.
The chocolate brand Roshen imported state of the art machinery from Western countries and built up annual revenue of up to 800 million US-Dollar, making in number 18 out of the top 100 candy industry brands, selling 350 various types of confectionery on 3 continents.
This is not only due to the civil war. President Petro Poroshenko had also succeeded in convincing international organizations such as the IMF or the European Commission that they did not need their own criminal court to fight corruption – but according to KyivPost, the Supreme Court now in charge would be known precisely for its corrupt judges. Now the Panama Papers exposed the offshore company Avellum, which managed the profits of the “Roshen” chocolate chain. Its owner, in turn, is President Petro Poroshenko. Some Ukrainians do not accuse their “chocolate king” of stealing from the people at all; after all, any politician would do that. The bad thing would be that Poroshenko does this while Ukraine is at war.
This also results in a life of poverty for many. For example, Anja, a native of Kiev, says that after a hard-working life as an engineer, her mother receives just the equivalent of 83 Euros in pension, and her father, a driver with no training, 56. Nevertheless, this grim outlook did not prevent Anja from quitting her day job as an accountant to become a dancer. She earns her living mainly as an English translator. But the most lucrative job, she says, is interpreting on dates – after all, she gets 15 US-Dollars an hour for translating on dates between Westerners eager to get married and Ukrainians willing to emigrate. In fact, it’s hard to find a Ukrainian under the age of 40 who isn’t running his own business, no matter how small.
A life of uncertainty
But this entrepreneurship is not always self-chosen. While many older people had saved their pension entitlements, a cheap condominium and a secure job from the Soviet era, many of the younger generation are scraping by with odd jobs: from UBER drivers to wigmakers to freelance programmers for cryptocurrencies. Like Anja, many are still living into their thirties with their parents. Youth unemployment was 21.3 percent in 2016, according to the World Bank. The possibility of free enterprise is, in many cases, the only hope of building something for themselves.
Still, for all the hardships of a free liberal society, the seceding Donbass, which is now turning back to the Russian system, is seen by most as a cautionary tale. Even though not much is known about life in the separatist areas due to capped TV stations and intra-Ukrainian border controls. Although the prevailing opinion on both sides of the border is that things are bad for freedom in the other part of the country, hardly any of the refugees from there want to return. But many would have no other choice, as the money to live in the metropolis of Kiev was no longer sufficient.
It is an open secret that the self-proclaimed Lugansk and Donetsk People’s Republics would collapse without unofficial funding from Russia. Even the former security minister of the self-proclaimed Donetsk People’s Republic confirmed this in a Reuters interview. Two-thirds of the remaining 2.7 million inhabitants are pensioners who draw their pensions from Russia. The only way to make a good living is in the military, says Natalya, who was born and raised there. A doctor colleague of hers transferred from the civilian sector to Donetsk’s military hospital, which quadrupled her salary.
Even the salary of a university director is barely enough for more than the most basic food, and there is a general curfew after 11 p.m., which would be enforced by the military. Nevertheless, the clubs in the city center would still be full around midnight. Who is partying there, however, is not known. But the police have new cars: the Range Rover brand. The concept of the western chains still exists, McDonalds is now called Donmak, Metro Most and Starbucks Starducks, but the quality and service cannot convince anyone. Since the new owners would be appointed by public authorities anyway, they would have no incentive to improve anything. It was precisely this oligarchic system of favoritism that Ukrainians hoped to shake off in 2014 with the Euromaidan.
How to build a country
But nothing happens overnight. Whether it’s from the poppy hipster venues in Kiev’s historic Podil to state-supporting institutions, the place is run almost exclusively by young people. It’s almost as if their parents are on vacation. And almost always, everything seems improvised, too. Too many mismatched desks crammed together in small spaces. Activists work at them on their – often private – laptops to build up their country. For example, the Ukraine Crisis Media Centre, which in 2014 kept the world informed about the Euromaidan from a private apartment and where today high-ranking military officers give press conferences about the course of the war in the east.
“We are moving,” Denis Serdaga says with a wink. He is not referring to the 50-square-meter premises of the eHealth project and its 16 employees, but to Ukraine as a whole, which is moving in the direction of Europe. Especially as far as its social institutions are concerned. The 25-year-old works as an administrator of the project, which receives financial and advisory support from USAID and the German GIZ. Put simply, the aim is to reorganize the stalled structures in the health system according to the UBER principle. This is because the system lacks transparency.
Health care throughout the country is inefficient and overburdened and, above all, riddled with corruption. Senior physicians have a reputation for making public funds disappear into their own pockets. The doctors and nurses are completely overwhelmed by the number of patients to be cared for. Thus, either the family itself has to take care of the relatives in the hospital or “tip” the staff to keep a special eye on them and provide them with adequate treatment. The system developed in the eHealth project is intended to bring greater clarity to this. The prices are already fixed before the treatment and it also includes an evaluation system that gives good doctors better conditions from the social security system. It is hoped that doctors will voluntarily submit to this new system.
There is a similar sense of enthusiasm throughout the country. That way, people are beginning to gain confidence in their country’s institutions, such as the health care system or the police. Young people are filled with pride in the country they are about to create. Despite all the setbacks, the upcoming generation needs to be dynamic and fun-loving to find their place in life, Volodomir sums it up. He currently channels his patriotism into his job at the consulting firm Deloitte, which he is on call for 24 hours a day, seven days a week. He is not one of those Ukrainians who seek their salvation in emigration. Even though he would like to come to Europe for a while, he eventually wants to go back and use his knowledge to build Ukraine. This attitude is new in a country that, after the revolution, had to import many of its ministers from the USA and Europe!