Academic freedom and intellectual dissent in post-soviet Ukraine

Received: 21 July 2021 | Accepted: 25 October 2021 DOI: 10.1111/hequ.12362 RESEARCH ARTICLE Academic freedom and intellectual dissent in post-­soviet Ukraine Anatoly V. Oleksiyenko Faculty of Education, University of Hong Kong, Hong Kong, Hong Kong SAR Abstract This paper conceptualizes intellectual dissent as a galva- Funding information Research Grants Council, University Grants Committee, Grant/Award Number: #17615419 nizer of academic freedom in a post-­totalitarian academia that is moving toward democratization. Drawing on the case of Ukraine, the analytical narrative describes difficulties in overcoming legacies in universities emerging from repressive rule that discouraged creativity, initiative, and critical inquiry, and having to envisage a transition to democratic governance in the context of neoliberal geopolitics. The case analysis suggests that intellectual dissent is essential but limited in its ability to establish the praxis of academic freedom under increasing control by oligarchic governments and a self-­serving bureaucracy. By exploring interdependencies between intellectual dissent and academic freedom, this paper lays ground for an analytical framework that can be helpful in rethinking the prospects of universities at the crossroads of authoritarianism and democracy. Ця cтaття кoнцeптyaлiзyє iнтeлeктyaльнe iнaкoмиcлeння як cтимyлюючий фaктop для poзвиткy aкaдeмiчнoї cвoбoди в пocт-­тoтaлiтapнiй aкaдeмiї нa шляxy дo дeмoкpaтизaцiї. Ha пpиклaдi Укpaїни, aнaлiтичний нapaтив в цiй cтaттi oпиcyє тpyднoщi пoдoлaння yнiвepcитeтcькoї cпaдщини, щo виниклa внacлiдoк peпpecивнoгo пpaвлiння, якe пepeшкoджaлo твopчocтi, iнiцiaтивi тa кpитичним дocлiджeнням, тa гaльмyвaлo пepexiд дo дeмoкpaтичнoгo yпpaвлiння в кoнтeкcтi нeoлiбepaльнoї гeoпoлiтики. Як пoкaзyє iнcтитyцiйнa пpaктикa, iнтeлeктyaльнe iнaкoмиcлeння є cyттєвo Higher Educ Q. 2021;00:1–15. wileyonlinelibrary.com/journal/hequ © 2021 John Wiley & Sons Ltd | 1 2 | OLEKSIYENKO вaжливим, aлe oбмeжeним y йoгo здaтнocтi cпoнyкaти до aкaдeмiчної cвoбoди, ocoбливo кoли пocилюєтьcя кoнтpoль з бoкy oлiгapxiчниx ypядiв i кopиcтолюбивoї бюpoкpaтiї. Дocлiджyючи iнтeлeктyaльним взaємoзaлeжнicть iнaкoмиcлeнням тa мiж aкaдeмiчнoю cвoбoдoю, ця cтaття зaклaдaє ocнoвy для aнaлiтичнoї paмки, якa сприятиме пepeocмиcлeнню пepcпeктив yнiвepcитeтiв, щo знaxoдятьcя нa пepexpecтi aвтopитapизмy тa дeмoкpaтiї. 1 | I NTRO D U C TI O N The academic “moral compass” (Macfarlane, 2013) deviates from its true value whenever beneficiaries of academic freedom succumb to authoritarian rule on campuses and beyond (Bergan et al., 2020). In order to resist growing integrity failures, anti-­intellectualism and managerialism, intellectual leaders urge their peers to reorient their academic responsibilities to the ‘true north’ of criticism and advocacy (Macfarlane, 2013; Oleksiyenko & Ruan, 2019). Dissenting academic voices are particularly important in the context of global higher education affected by legacies of feudalism, tyranny, indoctrination and militarization (Giroux, 2002; Hladchenko et al., 2020; Kuraev, 2016; Oleksiyenko, 2018). Yet, the reorientations become discombobulating (Oleksiyenko, 2021b), when notions of academic freedom are contextualised (Tierney, 2020), hierarchised (Karran & Mallinson, 2019) or overtly dismissed (Holtz, 2021). In post-­totalitarian universities, the prospect of nurturing academic freedom is all the more fraught given the devastating impacts exerted by global corporate powers, which prioritize profit-­making over critical research, democratic governance and social justice (Giroux, 2002; Slaughter & Rhoades, 2004). The freedoms to do research, teach and learn are increasingly squeezed into the structuralist-­functionalist framework of productivity and celebrification (Stack, 2020)—­measures that have nothing to do with duties of intellectual leaders to criticise and advocate (Macfarlane, 2013). Global neoliberalism reinforces organizational cultures in which corporate hierarchies prioritize the freedoms and privileges of those already free and privileged (Amsler & Bolsmann, 2012; Smyth & Hattam, 2000) and neglect bullying, precarity and vulnerability of the disadvantaged (Oleksiyenko & Tierney, 2020). At a time when the neoliberal university is preoccupied with reinforcing the academic oligarchy (Szadkowski, 2017), academic freedom is often an aspiration of individual professors who have the audacity to challenge the unfairness and inequity—­an aspiration which often fails to become an institutional imperative (Boden & Epstein, 2011). As they strive to reject the totalitarian legacy, many post-­totalitarian professors are increasingly confused about the prospects of a democratic future in which neoliberal managers shun the freedoms of speech, teaching, inquiry and governance, much as their predecessors did in dictatorial regimes (Oleksiyenko & Jackson, 2021; Shlapentokh, 1990). Some prefer to leave their universities and disengage from an academe that they view as a source of corruption, disillusionment, and leadership failures (Oleksiyenko, 2018). Others persevere in hope against hope—­while perpetuating intellectual dissent. Caught between the contrary pulls of authoritarianism and democracy in higher education, many post-­ totalitarian scholars end up to be choosing a “surrogate academic freedom”—­“a hybrid form of freedom, which implies individual escape from moral norms of truth-­seeking, honesty, responsibility … while empowering corrupt elites as they spread post-­truth techniques and deride, despise, avoid, or falsify memories, legacies and citizen's OLEKSIYENKO | 3 rights and freedoms” (Oleksiyenko, 2021a, p. 1117). While intellectual dissent in search of freedom from retribution is often noted as a good choice in this context (Oleksiyenko, 2018), looming larger are several questions: dissent from what? freedom to do what? This paper examines these conundrums using the case of Ukrainian academe and its efforts to deconstruct the practices of unfreedom after decades of the Soviet administration that fostered rigidity and corporatization, and restricted intellectuals from freedom of inquiry, teaching and governance (Connelly, 2000; Kuraev, 2016). The conceptual and methodological sections that follow shed more light on the barriers faced, while the subsequent parts of the paper elaborate on the crossroads dilemmas. 2 | I NTE LLEC T UA L D I S S E NT A S A PR ECU R S O R O F AC A D E M I C FR E E D O M : CO N C E P T UA L FR A M E WO R K Evidently a debatable concept in global academia (Åkerlind & Kayrooz, 2003; Altbach, 2001), academic freedom spins from its positive to negative connotations, i.e., “freedom to” and “freedom from” (Levine, 2021), when the freedoms of speech, teaching, learning and doing research are discussed (Karran & Mallinson, 2019; Oleksiyenko & Jackson, 2021). Given that academic knowledge crosses boundaries and affects disparate stakeholder communities outside campuses, academic freedom is subject to the conflicting interpretations of multiple interest-­holders, rent-­seekers, and resource-­controllers, who are eager to take over governance and accountability in academia (Altbach, 2001; Karran & Mallinson, 2019; Oleksiyenko & Jackson, 2021; Tierney, 2020). The pursuit of academic liberties is increasingly constrained by conflicting views and values, given that “academic staff is dependent on the interpretation of the de jure (legal and constitutional) protection and the operation of de facto (normative) protection” (Karran & Mallinson, 2019). When the privileged minority focuses on protecting its own privileges (Levine, 2021), rather than on consolidating resistance to the corporate assault (Oleksiyenko & Tierney, 2018), the discourse of academic freedom gets preoccupied with “the procedural means, rather than the principled ends” (Levine, 2021). The “fear or concern of retribution” (Tierney, 2020) is a key driver in conceptualising academic freedom as “freedom from”. The legacy of post-­totalitarian societies provides a great example of why this orientation could be chosen. The post-­totalitarian academics have intimate memories of institutional environments where critical thinking was suppressed and academic freedom was annihilated by a mono-­ideological mindset (Connelly, 2000; Oleksiyenko, 2021a). Analysis of communist party rule in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union suggests that intellectual dissent was often invalidated in the “captive university” (Connelly, 2000), controlled by repressive governments that were “engaged in a relentless struggle against memory, silencing and discrediting witnesses, destroying evidence, falsifying the historical record, and murdering historians” (Horvath, 2005, p. 7). In the Soviet Union as in most of Eastern Europe, intellectual dissent was almost without fail crushed by the police-­state apparatus, which was ruthless in suppressing expressions of defiance (Connelly, 2000; Frentzel-­Zagorska & Zagorski, 1989). A moral exploit, which was often a solitary and unique act that required heroic courage (as exemplified by the case of nuclear scientist, Andrei Sakharov (Horvath, 2005)), could raise the bar for intellectual leadership in scholarly circles. Alas, according to Kuraev (2016), the Soviet university acted as a co-­opted institution, dedicated to stifling freedoms of thought and speech through a semi-­factory or semi-­army style of operation, enforcing uniformity, rigidity and managerialism. Within the totalitarian context of higher education, the discourse of academic leadership was often structured around norms of administrative hierarchy, bureaucratic surveillance, and ideological dogmas (Connelly, 2000). To mitigate the system's repressive legacies, academics had to draw on networks of loyalty shaped by ethnic/ geographic allegiances, resource control, and/or disciplinary affiliations. Loyalty was often perceived as a means to soften punitive measures and partially obfuscate regulative practices (Pollock, 2008; Tromly, 2013). Thus, in spite of the university's surveillance departments monitoring academic behaviour with the help of loyal party cadres (Kuraev, 2016), not all professors snitched on their colleagues. In 2021, as part of the discourse of de-­Sovietization 4 | OLEKSIYENKO in Ukraine, Vakhtang Kipiani, a prominent public intellectual and media archivist and analyst, publicised a document from a Soviet-­era surveillance department, which reports underperformance in recruiting agents at the leading universities in Lviv, in the west of Soviet Ukraine, in the 1970s. Notwithstanding the culture of snitching and purges, the document suggests that there were apparently intellectuals who withstood the minding, bullying, and conscription pressures. Alas, they tended to represent the exception, not the rule. The more academics succumbed to the idea of loyalty to either the Communist Party or a particular groupthink, the more difficult it was for dissenting intellectuals to exercise their autonomy and agency (Connelly, 2000). Escaping the legacies of the police-­state is, however, not easy today. While seemingly liberated environments provide more opportunities for teaching and research (Hladchenko et al., 2020), retributive methods are still employed by the post-­totalitarian bureaucracy intent on maintaining its powers and privileges (Oleksiyenko, 2016). While university administrators no longer resort to restricting travel abroad, barring emigration, or sanctioning psychiatric abuse (Birstein, 2001), career blockages persist for adamant dissenters (Oleksiyenko, 2016). Meanwhile, the dissolution of punitive thinking is slow in academia and the society at large, given the general reluctance to honestly reflect on the shameful past (Gessen, 1997). Fear of retaliation lingers in many post-­Soviet institutions where administrators seek to cement their authority (Oleksiyenko, 2016). For many academics, it is hard to initiate institutional change, when universities hold on to a legacy of empowering the bureaucracy and question the legitimacy of dissent. Nostalgic about the comforts and entitlements of the past, many admirers of the Soviet legacy advocate for policies reinforcing a command-­and-­control organizational template. Meanwhile, as dissenters pursue dissent for the sake of self-­empowerment, the nascent democratic practices wither and new forms of freedom suppression emerge (Applebaum, 2020; Horvath, 2005). When managerial control becomes ubiquitous in global academia, and universities are increasingly caught in the political struggle between managerialism and democracy (Giroux et al., 2015), understanding the premises of intellectual dissent in disparate political and cultural contexts is increasingly important. In an international environment that melds neoliberal and totalitarian ideas and practices, it is critical to study how intellectual dissent aimed at promoting academic freedom and democracy transforms from a rudimentary ad hoc practice to a more mainstream activity. 3 | C A S E-­S T U DY D E S I G N This paper presents a case-­study that endeavours to explain the dilemmas faced by post-­totalitarian academics who are seeking to embrace the values of democracy and freedom—­those high principles they dreamed of behind the iron curtain—­yet, now that the curtain has fallen down, they are struggling with the changing reality of politics locally and geopolitics regionally. Given developments in higher education following the 2014 Revolution of Dignity, the Ukrainian case offers an exceptional opportunity to evaluate the prospects of intellectual dissent emerging through the search for academic freedom. The case-­study method allows for mixing data and exploring the complexity of transformations when boundaries between the context and phenomena are blurred, and multiple interventions occur (Yin & Davis, 2007). The case presented in this paper brings together insights from analytical reviews of scholarly publications, participant observations, interviews and self-­directed surveys conducted in Ukraine. Scholarship on academic freedom, limited as it is in a country with generally low capacity in academic research, informed the principal investigator's (PI's) understanding of key anxieties and pressures experienced by the local professoriate. In 2015–­2019, the PI conducted action research in Kyiv and Lviv, while leading, co-­organizing or contributing to various workshops and conferences, and interacting with seasoned and emerging scholars. This provided opportunities to better understand the local organizational environment and academic discourse, as well as to delve deeper into the contextual and phenomenological dilemmas of de-­Sovietization in Ukraine's higher education. The PI took reflective notes and discussed key concerns with leading Ukrainian scholars. OLEKSIYENKO | 5 The case study also incorporates data from interviews with forty-­five academics and self-­directed surveys by twenty scholars completed in 2014–­2020—­the critical years for Ukrainians conducting the anti-­colonial war with Russia and pursuing European integration. The sample had an equal distribution in gender and included professoriate with a wide range (10–­4 0 years) of academic experiences in social sciences or humanities. The participants were asked about the challenges of de-­Sovietization, as well as about approaches to innovations in higher education. The interviews and surveys were conducted by research assistants (RAs) in Ukraine, who were well-­versed in the problems of higher education transformations. The interviews comprised a 45–­60-­min Q&A following a protocol which included the interviewees consenting to participate and agreeing to data being shared, provided protection of their privacy. The interview transcripts were verified by the participants, as well as by several project members who supported the RAs. The PI had opportunities to ask additional or clarifying questions, and to debrief some interviewees during subsequent visits to the country. In addition, twenty participants responded with self-­directed surveys that included a set of semi-­structured questions. The surveys allowed for in-­depth reflections on participants' Soviet and post-­Soviet experiences in teaching, research and administration. In the process of data analysis and case writing, the PI sought to avoid positivist-­oriented generalisations. Instead, the analysis focus was on idiosyncrasy of interpretations and on narratives indicating specific challenges, as well as the responses to them by academic dissenters. The author sought to understand their lived experiences and aspirations amid de-­regulation of academic practice; their approaches to promoting the freedoms to teach, learn or govern; and their attitudes about speaking truth to power. In particular, the analysis focused on expressions of dissent when academics confronted the old styles of administration and promoted the ideas of change and academic freedom. The analysis drew on Macfarlane's (2013) framework of intellectual leadership, where boundary transgression (and dissent is a related meaning) is a key factor, not only in knowledge production, but also in advancing academic activism and public intellectualism. The focus on dissent-­to-­freedom in the pursuit of a democratic governance and society thus emerged as dominant in the analytical framework. 4 | D I S S E NT-­T O - ­F R E E D O M — ­O N TH E ROA D TO D E M O C R AC Y Fear of retribution has been firmly ingrained in the Ukrainian psyche. School curricula mandates that students memorize works by Taras Shevchenko, the national poet who was born a serf. Soviet school officials presented Shevchenko as a recipient of freedom granted by the Russian elites, who recognized his artistic talent and bought him out of serfdom. Yet, he chose to throw this ‘freedom’ away by ridiculing Russian imperialism and writing in Ukrainian. For this, he was arrested, banished to remote Kazakhstan to do indefinite military service, and forbidden to write and to paint by personal order of the tsar. This archetypal Ukrainian story of dissent, loss of freedom and a wasted/snuffed out life, resonates with Ukrainians, as it echoes across many other accounts of purges by the Soviet regime, which killed thousands of Ukrainian intellectuals (writers, artists, educators, and political activists) for choosing Ukrainian identity, language, and narrative; relegated dissidents to psychiatric clinics or labour camps; and starved millions of farmers to death for resisting state collectivisation (Applebaum, 2017; Bielocerkowycz, 1983; Targum et al., 2013). While the courage of dissidents inspired some, it also instilled a fear of retribution among others. In 2014, when the streets filled with millions of pro-­European protestors, thousands of whom later joined the military units fighting against Russian invaders, many Sovietophiles and nostalgic historiographers of the post-­ Soviet space were utterly shocked (Zhuk, 2014). This shock was particularly palpable during the country-­wide toppling of Soviet symbols (e.g., monuments to Lenin and communist military figures). Also met with consternation were demands for mandatory use of Ukrainian as the official language, along with calls for the rehabilitation of Ukrainian dissenters, and the re-­evaluation of historical figures and insurgent movements that had been vilified by the Soviets. 6 | OLEKSIYENKO Constrained by conflicting interpretations of institutional legacies (Hladchenko et al., 2020; Oleksiyenko et al., 2021), the change-­makers pushed for conceptualization and institutionalization of academic freedom, as was manifested by the 2014 and 2017 amendments to the “Law on Education” (Davydova, 2018). The Ministerial web-­site defines academic freedom as “self-­dependence and independence of educational process participants during implementation of pedagogical, academic, scientific and/or innovative activities which is performed based on the principles of the freedom of speech, thought and creativity, dissemination of knowledge and information, free disclosure and use of scientific research results taking into consideration restrictions established by laws of Ukraine” (Ministry of Education & Science, Ukraine, 2017). A review of the clause interpretations in university-­ based academic journals reveals a common emphasis on legality. Yet, there is no serious consideration of how “legal restrictions” would be defined and by whom—­a problematic proposition in a post-­totalitarian context, which was shaped by the “rule of man” or “rule by law”, rather than by the “rule of law”. Ukrainian research also fails to consider institutional dilemmas emerging in the context of colonial legacies and postcolonial war with Russia. While professors and students seemed to welcome the freedoms of speech and pedagogical innovations in general, dissent-­to-­freedom of governance and democratic organization was difficult to achieve in the conflictual environment. The subsequent sections address this difficulty by looking into chronology of tensions. 4.1 | The pains of rising above repressive practices A large proportion of the Ukrainian academia are professors who have personal experience with how Marxism-­ Leninism and Russification were used to instil repressive practices. One pedagogy professor recalls: “In Soviet times, science had to be ideological. Papers required references to the sources of Marxist-­Leninist ideology. Without Lenin, Marx, Engels, there was no research”. Russification was likewise pervasive: “any references to historical successes of Ukraine were regarded as ‘nationalistic’; God forbid if Ukraine was presented as performing any better than Russia; instead, [the authorities] propagated the centuries-­long [myth of the] backwardness of Ukraine, which was resolved only through Russian influence”. Another scholar noted that some disciplines and themes could be easily criminalised in the past: “the history of Southern Slavs was very popular in Lviv University, and still is. It was hard to find a political crime there—­it could be easily found in the history of Ukraine though.” One scholar disdained the prevailing “intolerance to alternative viewpoints in social sciences—­in particular, it was forbidden to use papers by those who were blacklisted as ‘nationalists’”. At the same time, the ideological arbitrators of the totalitarian system ensured that the discourse rationalized “autocracy, orthodoxy, and officialdom”. Thus, while Ukrainian history was brief and quickly skimmed over in the school curricula, Russian tzarism, the institution of serfdom, and the successes of the Bolsheviks were analysed at length. In the Soviet era, transgression from party-­dictated dogma was criminalized. Dissidents were often purged, as one academic explained: By terror, the Soviet authorities scrupulously eradicated the class of intellectuals, in order to prevent the rise of resistance leadership, and then shaped secondary and tertiary education in accordance with the communist dogmas—­repressing dissent, promoting militarization and self-­insulation from the civilized world, and spreading paranoia about enemies threatening socialism. According to another legacy-­holder: The execution of typical specialization-­based curricula across all disciplines in all higher education institutions produced graduates resembling soldiers, who marched in columns and tight rows on the Platz, while being unable to take one step to the left or to the right, or accelerate or slow down their OLEKSIYENKO | 7 pace—­resulting in all organizations employing such graduates—­looking alike and being incapable of taking initiative. The collapse of the Soviet Union suddenly liberalised the university space for knowledge creation. New disciplines emerged, and many scholars claimed that they had significantly more opportunities for international travel and collaborations. For Ukrainian historians and linguists, a new era seemed to be emerging. Interest in Ukrainization (rising on the wave of pro-­independence and de-­Sovietization sentiments) was very high, as a linguistics professor reminisces: Admissions to the 1992 program were unique at the faculty of Ukrainian linguistics. At that time, everything Ukrainian—­language, habits, history, culture—­acquired the pique of curiosity and social prestige. It looked as if [studies in] Ukrainian linguistics promised significant opportunities in employment and social life. Here in Lviv, we received people from all over Ukraine. The geography of my course spread from Chernihiv to Kyiv and Crimea. Suddenly people older than us joined our program and took Ukrainian as their second degree in higher education. The Ukrainization was, however, implemented under the grip of post-­Soviet managers, who sought to reinforce their power, rather than to encourage democratic movements or innovation. One study participant explained how, shortly before 1991, he created an academic council at his university in Lviv in opposition to the Soviet university statute, which was imposed in the waning days of Kremlin rule. A decade after the collapse of the Soviet Union, however, one of his colleagues, who became the university president, decided that the advisory body was a nuisance, rather than a vital democratic body. Using his rights of institutional autonomy, this president simply dissolved the council. According to the dejected de-­Sovietizer: We returned to the Soviet scheme of administration, and what is even worse, through numerous revisions of the university statute, our university adopted Moscow's template [reinstating what activated his resistance and led to the creation of the Council in the first place]. When considering the challenges of organizational rigidity and the immovability of authority figures, one respondent noted: “I began to work in this department in 1973 and [Name] was the Department Head at that time. Then he became the University Rector. He led the department until his death; he also led the university until his death. He was controlled by the KGB, besides the fact that he served at a KGB reconnaissance department during the war [WWII]. As far as I am concerned, there was no change in the university since then, and it's sad”. The disciples of these influential professors went on reproducing their mentors' leadership style. The “authoritarian personality” (Adorno, 1950), whose impact on post-­communist societies was aptly described by Anne Applebaum (2020), manifested itself in full after Ukraine became independent. Allegorising the continuity of this legacy, one chemistry professor remarked: “the bird breeds a bird; the rabbit breeds a rabbit; the wolf breeds a wolf”. Similar to what Hovarth (2005) observed in Russia and Applebaum (2020) in Poland and Hungary, the conservative perspective prevailed in Ukraine, and yesterday's dissenters appeared to reinstate orthodoxy in the modern day. Lack of institutional innovations after independence gave a boost to pro-­Russian forces in Ukraine that drew on a spirit of more dynamic transformations in the Russian government, economy and higher education. Given their interest in Russian gas subsidies and privileged access to the Russian market, Ukrainian oligarchs and business elites had little hesitation about where their allegiances should lie. Placing in power authoritarian presidents, the pro-­Russian oligarchic parties promoted freedom of consumption and the primacy of money-­making across the country. The Russian phrase, “kakaya raznitsa” (“what's the difference?”) was a popular mantra—­a cynical 8 | OLEKSIYENKO expression of relativism, that aimed at spreading absolute priority to one's material gain and creature comforts, leaving no room for inconvenient matters such as social and historical injustice or decolonization. Indeed, what was presented as relativism, was cover for a limited set of ethical, political and linguistic choices. The pro-­Russian parties in Ukraine became increasingly vocal in denouncing “forced Ukrainization” and “nationalism” (over time, “fascism” entered their parlance, mirroring Soviet propaganda usage). Employing a post-­truth revival of historical tropes vilifying Western Ukraine as a seedbed of nationalism/fascism, the Soviet legacy-­holders amplified their efforts to curtail the rehabilitation of Ukrainian identity, language and culture as prerequisites of sovereignty and independence. Conflicting interpretations of the role of the Ukrainian Insurgent Army or the causes of Holodomor (Stalin's denied and covered-­up genocide of the Ukrainian people by mass starvation) were particularly illustrative in how the pro-­Russian parties framed the Ukrainian discourse to match the Kremlin's notion of the “Russian World”. As one scholar remarked, “they propelled the narrative on the war against Nazis, but never spoke about the crimes and mass killings committed by the communists”. To curtail the narrative of decolonialization/Ukrainization, the ruling elites used the media to broadcast the Russian language and narratives, while deriding the backwardness of Ukrainian culture and efforts to uncover suppressed history. The power of the Kremlin propaganda was so strong that Russophile intellectuals in the West continued to imbibe and spread the anti-­Ukrainian narratives many years later (Zhuk, 2014). To suppress Ukrainization, the oligarchs exerted a tighter grasp on the Ministry of Education, thereby increasing their ability to influence textbook development, especially with regard to historical narratives disclosing Russian imperialism and building a pantheon of Ukrainian freedom-­fighters. They also claimed greater control over the university rectors and the distribution of awards to academics. Given chronic budget shortfalls and dismal compensation given to professors (often mentioned by the interviewees in this study), the tactic worked, as professors began to admire their rectors for knowing “somebody very influential in the ministry who could dole out subsidies regularly”. As low wages prevailed, one professor argued, “we have few young people. Only old people stay—­that is, people of the old guard, old thinking, those who are resistant to innovations. Very few young people are interested in joining our profession”. Meanwhile, corruption proliferated and became more sophisticated. An interviewee recalled a “colleague” who used to receive (declaratively competitive) ministerial grants, because this colleague's wife worked at the ministry. Fiefdoms grew through extensive extortion schemes, including “forced co-­authorship” or “ghost writing” for governmental officials, who were gifted with a Candidate or Doctor of Sciences degrees (see also Osipian, 2017). Subservience, as well as fear of autonomy (or some argued, “of responsibility”), were reported as a major driver in the postcolonial mindset of Ukrainian academia. Intriguingly, a philosophy professor attributed the centrality of feudal loyalty to the absence of competitive recruitment to academic positions (a factor contributing to professors' weak legitimacy and poor chances of sustaining autonomy). This is also aggravated by the absence of a tenure system, in which merits would be measured on the basis of long-­term performance at the world-­class level of scientific and pedagogical achievement, rather than on the basis of servility. However, teaching overload has been a significant problem, while low salaries have let professors to supplement their income by taking on more teaching assignments at more institutions, or doing some social media work and consultancy projects. This leaves little time for research—­a lack of which is major factor in keeping them under the radar in international networks and partnerships. With their prospects shrunk to being “local,” many scholars avoid peregrination, and the few who dare to go global are viewed as “betraying and escaping the fiefdoms”. Participants in this study were cognizant of multiple opportunities for international travel and research collaborations, provided they could speak and write in English. Alas, powerful minders in their institutions resented the proliferation of English as the lingua-­franca of international scholarship, while claiming that using English would result in reinstating the status of Ukrainian as a second-­rate language in higher education. Reluctant to seem disloyal, some young scholars neglected their studies of English and other foreign languages. Given these complicated power struggles, enacting transformations resulting in a more independent and democratic academia is a Sisyphean challenge. Despite institutional diversity in the higher education OLEKSIYENKO | 9 system, the organizational framework of universities is unattractive to high quality thinkers and performers (Oleksiyenko, 2014). Even the reformers of higher education in the years following the Revolution of Dignity were often struck by fears of autonomy and retribution for making the wrong choices, as one participant recounts: I heard from the Deputy Minister of Education that some local university in western Ukraine sent [the ministry] a letter saying, “please, give us permission to do this or that,” and they wrote back that, “you do not need our permission because according to the Law on Higher Education of 2014, you have a right to do this.” [The university] wrote again, asking, “Would you please give us a letter that you permit us, because of that Law of Higher Education?”, and then the minister responded “Well, this is the law of direct action, so you should not ask for any further regulations.” And then they received another letter! So, that was a very exciting exchange that clearly demonstrated that people mentally are not ready for this, and the system itself [is not ready]—­yes, it is still under-­ reformed. The law was passed five years ago; there were some regulations which were changed by the Cabinet of Ministers. So, a lot of things were done, but people still do not know how to use it, how to apply it. 4.2 | In search of freedom to innovate academically and socially Despite the frustrations observed in the slowly changing post-­totalitarian environment of Ukraine, pro-­democracy dissent was noticeable. “If one observes social revolutions taking place one after another over the last few decades, then it is probably fair to say that we have many people who continue to seek roads to freedom”, one professor remarked. It would also be fair to say that the forms of intellectual dissent have been many, and some exerted more influence than others in deconstructing Soviet legacies. In galvanizing change, these endeavours certainly depend on individual professors, for whom it takes some time to reconceptualise “freedom from (retribution and excessive control)” to “freedom to (initiate and innovate)”. One interviewee described tensions emerging in the process of transition by sharing a story of power struggles with a rent-­seeking university manager: my department boss tried to force me to accept him as co-­author [of my book]—­otherwise there would be a huge formal procedure for getting a university approval. That's why I postponed its publication for several years, and finally, did it using my own money. [Alas], a new problem [emerged]: I could be persecuted while trying to sell my book to students! In view of the law mandating frequent reviews and renewals of academic contracts, the dissenter expressed scepticism about resistance to the neoliberal rent-­seekers: Each educator, professor or assistant professor, regardless of their record of service, [are] due to go through competition each five or even three years. It forces them to hide their opinions, to curry favour with the heads of different levels, so as not to spoil their educational and scientific careers. Yet, others were adamant about using their freedom to raise their voice. Among them, resistance was regarded as essential, and was driven by a belief in “a transforming individual”. It is the power of individual voices that contribute to creating more powerful symbols and movements in the broader context, one journalism professor 10 | OLEKSIYENKO remarked: “each little grit adds to the beachhead of transformations”. The individual-­collective interplay is, however, dependent on the agency of one, the respondent argued: I believe that only individuals make change. If we take the Maidan, for example, it's not just a mass of people. These are people, each of whom has their own individuality; each has his/her beliefs and defends them … it is not the Minister of Education or the university rector who know what a teacher in the department of [Name] may need. It's only that teacher who knows. The only problem is that s/he needs to have a voice, power and position in order to stand up and say that. Following the Revolution of Dignity (aka Maidan), many activists amplified their voices through social media, publishing in periodicals at home and abroad, and explaining the processes of change to students and the public at large. Some organized professional development workshops to acquaint their colleagues with inadequately understood notions like civil society, transformative discourse, academic integrity, and standards of academic writing for international journals. Others organized conferences as platforms for developing recommendations of “practical significance” (i.e., advising the ministry or universities on where and how to make improvements). The scientific authority held by these activists gave them more agency in communicating with the government. There were also those who complained to the government, either privately or publicly (e.g., on social media), or simply trolled the bureaucracy. Dissent was regarded as important “when teachers [sought to] get rid of the authoritarian style and adopt a democratic style”. In a post-­totalitarian context that cultivated self-­censorship, silence and obedience, it appeared at time to be a radical act to promote a culture of dialogue, group projects, and peer-­to-­peer discussion in class. The policy-­oriented conferences that this author co-­organized in several Ukrainian cities, were praised as an opportunity for a genuine collegial and cross-­institutional conversation. The new methods represented a transformative departure from traditional “top-­down instruction” and paternalistic care of colleagues and students. While trying to advance the learner-­centred approach, Ukrainian change-­makers had to stand in opposition to colleagues who “met [these innovations] with bayonets”. One participant explained the resistance to change by saying, “the university teacher is still perceived to be a mentor—­somebody who knows better, somebody who does not make mistakes—­infallible”. This attitude pervades environments where academics regard “their place in the university as if they worked at a factory by the turner or in a service firm: ‘my work is from here to there; I have no idea how this reaches me and where it goes’. In other words, few tend to raise their head high enough to see and think what part of the educational cycle or of the society we are.” The collegial advice shared by change-­makers was: it is not enough to “declare an interactive style” and yet continue to “download ready-­made products onto students without encouraging critical thinking”. At the same time, encouraging professors to be more critically minded and innovative seemed to be difficult as a seasoned and influential Ukrainian pedagogue claimed on one of his blogs: Start breathing academic freedom to the fullest, colleagues! I certainly understand that many of my colleagues do not want to breathe freely—­they will not … will not be able to, and will not want to. After all, they feel better in gas masks, which they have been wearing for decades following the instruction of their managers, methodologists, scientists, school principals. Furthermore, they used to warn that others could not stick their noses out of their gas masks either. Now it's time to choose. And if this choice is not made, then those who do not remove the gas mask will remain on the side-­ lines. Or the notion of “academic freedom” will disappear forever into the abyss. As a means of claiming their freedom, some academic activists also urged their colleagues to apply for travel and study abroad grants, and to explore options at universities in Canada, Poland and other EU member countries, among other destinations. Several scholars praised these trips for the opportunities to learn anew and develop OLEKSIYENKO | 11 better curricula. One historian shared his thoughts on the value of going global and ignoring the ministry. He was part of a team that developed a textbook on the Holodomor—­work that the professors knew would not be approved by the pro-­Russian government in power at the time. He and his team persevered, believing that: “History is exactly what we have to re-­discover today. When we have to do it again, but without falsification, and relying on facts, we see how much was turned upside down”. Yet, the pro-­Ukrainian dissenters faced counter-­dissent from pro-­Russian intellectuals. Re-­interpretations of the official Soviet historical constructs raised hackles among the conservative professoriate, who benefitted from the marginalization of their Ukrainian counterparts. Some spread fear by asking, “What if the Russian empire returns and punishes the dissenters for the legislated de-­communization, removal of Soviet symbols and monuments from the streets, squares and buildings, and marginalization of the Russophiles and Russian speakers?”. The fear mongering did not seem far-­fetched in retrospect, especially as President Putin began to amplify his neo-­imperialist agenda by insisting in global forums that Russians and Ukrainians are the “same people”; that Russia restored historical justice by annexing Crimea; that Russia had a right to punish Ukrainians for seeking independence and wishing to accede to the EU, or inviting collaboration with NATO. One of the counter-­dissenters accused pro-­Ukrainian activists of subjecting previous regimes to “political trials”: There are no political trials now? Well, sorry. There are political trials because some people who manifest communist symbols were under trial—­the scale isn't comparable [to the past], of course. So, I think that the very mode of action and in many cases the way they speak, these people, the way they express themselves, and how they act is very similar to Soviet times and modes of conduct. For dissenters who were dismantling the Soviet legacy during an anti-­colonial war with Russia, enforcing removal of the totalitarian past did indeed imply taking a risk, as how they present themselves and whether they appear tolerant and inclusive was under intense scrutiny. As proponents of democracy, it was expected that the reformers would take into account all voices in a divided academia—­something that was often used against them to stall change. Yet, there has been progress, according to some. Dissent-­to-­freedom is becoming a reality, according to one change-­maker: [by means of] education, enlightenment, self-­education, we succeeded in cultivating several generations of free-­thinkers, who are not Soviets anymore. All around Ukraine. They [are] ready to die, so as not to go back to the USSR. This means that the Soviet institutional legacy can be dismantled. Right now. Despite all the threats of 2014, despite all the fears of losing everything, we expanded intellectual and spiritual freedom, and then everyone gets to decide what they can do with this freedom. 5 | D I S CU S S I O N The role of intellectual dissent in shaping the institutional framework of academic freedom is frequently glossed over in the discourse of higher education. Concepts that were developed in relation to university systems operating in Western liberal democracies are often a mismatch for experiences in post-­totalitarian societies and may produce vastly different connotations, or outright misunderstanding. Moreover, it is not easy for scholars to recognize the value of intellectual dissent given the stubborn influence of Russian propaganda in the world (Zhuk, 2014) as well as the prevailing organizational cultures that propel a “colonial complex—­inferiority” (Tlostanova, 2015), “hyper-­centralisation” (Oleksiyenko, 2016) and “academic feudalism” (Oleksiyenko, 2021b) in the post-­totalitarian contexts. 12 | OLEKSIYENKO In the case-­s tudy analysed in this paper, Ukrainians embarked on a dramatic collective act of dissent, overthrowing a corrupt and backward-­looking government during 2014 Revolution of Dignity. For many of the demonstrators, it was the European Union that served as a model of what they wanted: democracy, rule of law, and constitutional order. Cynical observers may have balked at their idealism, as some of the European countries that the Ukrainians so admired were at that very moment electing populist governments that undermined ‘model European values’, enabling, among other calamities, the degradation of academic freedom and institutional autonomy (Bergan et al., 2020). Ironically, Ukraine's big push for democracy coincided with democratic backsliding in the West and an environment in which “politicians often use emotion instead of reason, assertions instead of evidence, and evoke nativist rhetoric. Many display a disinterested relationship with concepts of ‘truth’ and a tendency to dismiss the role of experts, especially when their expertise is not politically convenient” (ibid. p. 8). The dilemmas faced by advocates of academic freedom in Ukraine are thus complex. In an environment that nurtures feudal loyalty based on fear, social injustice and colonial legacies, it is hard to develop allegiance to truth-­ seeking, meritocracy, and democracy. The “authoritarian personality”, partial to legislated rules, is usually loyal to the ruler who creates the rules, and therefore seeks to establish a monopoly of rule-­making. Many dissenters understand, especially in light of their historical memory, that challenging hierarchical conventions and feudal relations carries the risk of retribution and disadvantages in their academic career. Moreover, they recognize that, as dissent increases, the rule-­makers double down and enhance their control. In the post-­colonial university, where collective agency is viewed as punitive, rather than rewarding, professors have a choice: to live with fear of retribution, or to use creativity and disruption to legitimize and empower risk-­t aking and innovation. In confronting the past, dissenters assume social duties that impel them to take responsibility for disrupting outdated dependencies—­not only for their personal benefit, but also for a greater good of the academic community. Intellectual leadership requires both the capacity to create liberating/disharmonious knowledge and to empower academic activism that challenges the academic fiefdoms and privileges of elites that propagate colonial dependency. The most difficult boundary to cross on the road of institutional reforms is the “soviet psyche” / “soviet mentality” / “soviet attitude”—­notions the respondents referred to repeatedly as shorthand for the lingering spirit of apathy, close-­mindedness and hopelessness affecting their colleagues. Dissent-­to-­freedom is empowered by opposing forces: courage, commitment to truth, and belief in the value of active resistance to the totalitarian malaise. In the context of war with Russian neo-­imperialism, which takes both active military and hybrid post-­truth forms (Gomilko et al., 2016), the powers of intellectual dissent that foster de-­Sovietization and decolonization emerge as a useful tool to prepare younger generations for freedom-­fighting—­something that will arguably be needed for decades, or even centuries to come. Meanwhile, it is critical to ensure that the creative aspects of intellectual dissent open opportunities to establish a democratic environment for higher learning, in which academic freedom is nurtured and protected. That requires overt resistance to Soviet methods of repression and fear-­m ongering that may at times look like an effective antivenom against the Soviet legacy-­h olders. The authoritarian personality working towards democratic ends is an illusion—­a deception that legitimizes and empowers the repressive legacy, which many Ukrainians wish to leave behind. The development of intellectual leadership in the post-­totalitarian environment requires re-­imagining and re-­d esigning organizational behaviours and communication styles, so that intellectual dissent contributes to a higher degree of reason and critical thinking in university governance. Intellectual dissent that prioritizes moral principles and ethics is particularly valuable. Within this framework of intellectual dissent, the responsibility of academics to liberate repressed and colonized people, and promote their culture, language and history—­and Ukraine's history is rife with repression and colonization (as shown by Applebaum, 2017; Snyder, 2010)—­certainly takes precedence over “surrogate academic freedom” (Oleksiyenko, 2021b), which makes it possible to deny Soviet crimes (including the Holodomor and the Gulag) and protect the apologists. | OLEKSIYENKO 13 Ukraine's road to a democratic future has been long and uneven. To move forward, the country desperately needs universities filled with intellectuals who work to decolonise the nation, while also promoting the freedoms of speech, inquiry, teaching, learning and governance in order to build an open, inclusive and sustainable society. As a significant proportion of the post-­totalitarian professoriate is still uncertain or unwilling to step on the road, intellectual dissent is an essential disruptive force that will inspire critical thinking and a belief in the voice and powers of a “transforming individual”. 6 | CO N C LU D I N G R E M A R K S Intellectual dissent aimed at advancing academic freedom and democracy can be a useful concept in analysing the deconstruction of a post-­totalitarian academia, as this paper shows. Dissent is certainly a provocative term in an environment which is steeped in social injustice, traumas, and power struggles between privileged legacy-­ holders and disadvantaged change-­makers in academic communities. Demolition of authoritarian and retributive practices necessitates sophisticated approaches in cultivating academic freedom to innovate academically and socially. What makes dissent ‘intellectual’ is an unwavering commitment to critical thinking, anti-­colonialism, and liberation of formerly oppressed and colonized peoples, as well as an acknowledgement of their culture, language, and history. In the case of Ukraine, dissent-­to-­freedom appears to depend on the ability of the human agency to engage criticism, creativity, and civic courage to reimagine and reconstruct the responsibilities of the professoriate. C O N FL I C T O F I N T E R E S T The author has no conflict of interest to declare. DATA AVA I L A B I L I T Y S TAT E M E N T No data are available for public review beyond the publicly available sources listed in the paper. ORCID Anatoly V. Oleksiyenko https://orcid.org/0000-0002-1035-9186 REFERENCES Adorno, T. (1950). The authoritarian personality. Harper & Row Inc. 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Ab Imperio, 2014(3), 195–­208. https://doi.org/10.1353/imp.2014.0062 How to cite this article: Oleksiyenko, A. V. (2021). Academic freedom and intellectual dissent in post-­ soviet Ukraine. Higher Education Quarterly, 00, 1–­15. https://doi.org/10.1111/hequ.12362 View publication stats