November 1917.
Kyiv lived in a strange state somewhere between hope and anxiety.
Only a few weeks had passed since the events in Petrograd, yet during that short time the world around it seemed to have changed several times. The Provisional Government had disappeared almost as quickly as the monarchy before it. The Bolsheviks had proclaimed the transfer of power to the Soviets. Contradictory reports, rumors, and telegrams arrived from every corner of the former Empire.
Life in the city continued.
Shops remained open.
Trams ran through the streets.
Universities continued their work.
Yet almost every conversation eventually turned toward politics.
People argued about Lenin.
About the war.
About land.
About the future of Ukraine.
No one could say with certainty what the country would look like a month from now.
Inside the building of the Central Rada, the tension was even stronger.
Deputies gathered almost daily.
Committees worked late into the night.
Secretaries struggled to keep up with the endless flow of documents arriving from provinces, city administrations, military formations, and public organizations.
Too many issues demanded immediate attention.
On one cold November day, the leadership of the Rada assembled for another meeting.
In the spacious chamber sat Mykhailo Hrushevskyi, Volodymyr Vynnychenko, Symon Petliura, Dmytro Doroshenko, and several other influential figures of the Ukrainian movement.
Draft documents lay scattered across the table.
Maps.
Stacks of telegrams.
Fresh reports from Petrograd.
Hrushevskyi removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes tiredly.
The previous months had visibly aged him.
—"Gentlemen, I believe there is no longer any point in postponing the main question."
The conversations in the room gradually died down.
Everyone understood exactly what he meant.
Vynnychenko was the first to break the silence.
—"If you are referring to the status of Ukraine, then I fully agree. After the Bolshevik coup, the previous system of relations with Petrograd has effectively ceased to exist."
Petliura nodded.
—"That is difficult to dispute. The only question is what we intend to build in its place."
Vynnychenko leaned slightly forward.
—"The Ukrainian People's Republic."
Several men exchanged glances.
The name itself had been discussed in various committees for weeks, but this was the first time it had been stated so directly.
Doroshenko thoughtfully stroked his chin.
—"It is a fine name. But a state is defined by more than its name."
—"Naturally," Vynnychenko replied. — "A state is defined by its substance."
—"And what substance do you propose to give it?"
There was no mockery in Doroshenko's voice.
Only genuine interest.
Vynnychenko seemed to have expected the question.
—"We must build a modern democratic republic. A state founded upon civil rights, freedom of speech, social justice, and the authority of the people."
—"That sounds admirable," Doroshenko said calmly. — "But similar formulas can currently be heard in nearly every former capital of the Empire. What interests me is something else entirely. Who will ensure the survival of this state six months from now?"
The room fell silent.
Petliura watched the exchange carefully.
He understood both men well.
That was precisely why conversations like this had become increasingly common.
Vynnychenko viewed the future through the lens of political ideals.
Doroshenko was increasingly viewing events as a statesman.
—"The people," Vynnychenko answered. — "Every government exists because it enjoys the support of its people."
—"Public support is essential," Doroshenko agreed. — "But history shows that support alone is not enough. A state requires administrators, courts, finances, institutions, and an army."
—"Do you truly believe Ukraine is incapable of creating such things?"
—"On the contrary. I believe it is entirely capable. That is precisely why I suggest we begin thinking about these matters now rather than after the celebrations and speeches are over."
Petliura finally intervened.
—"In one respect, Dmytro Ivanovych is correct. We spend a great deal of time discussing political declarations and far too little discussing the practical mechanisms of government."
Vynnychenko frowned.
—"Without a political program, those mechanisms have no purpose."
—"And without those mechanisms," Petliura replied, "the political program remains nothing more than a beautifully written newspaper article."
The debate might have continued indefinitely.
But Hrushevskyi raised his hand.
—"Gentlemen, I believe we are all in agreement on at least one point."
The room turned toward him.
—"Ukraine requires a new form of statehood. That is the central question before us."
He paused briefly.
—"Which means we must prepare a document capable of defining that statehood."
The discussion continued long into the afternoon.
Because everyone present understood that they were no longer discussing autonomy.
They were discussing the future of Ukraine itself.
Work on the new Universal took considerably longer than many deputies had originally expected.
It quickly became apparent that proclaiming a new form of statehood was far easier than agreeing upon its content.
For the next several days, committee meetings continued from morning until late at night.
Lights remained on throughout the Central Rada building long after sunset.
Secretaries carried documents from one room to another.
Lawyers rewrote individual clauses.
Politicians argued over specific wording for hours at a time.
In one of the larger chambers, the commission responsible for preparing the final draft had gathered once again.
Several versions of the document lay spread across a long table.
Some pages were almost entirely covered in corrections and handwritten notes.
Vynnychenko carefully reviewed another revision.
—"The section concerning land reform needs to be strengthened."
One of the deputies looked up.
—"In what way?"
—"We must state clearly that the land belongs to those who work it."
Several men immediately nodded in approval.
However, from the opposite side of the table came the voice of Doroshenko.
—"That wording is too broad."
Vynnychenko turned toward him.
—"Why?"
—"Because it can be interpreted in a dozen different ways. A state document should create clarity, not new disputes."
—"The people will understand perfectly well what it means."
—"The people will understand whatever agitators convince them it means."
A few quiet laughs echoed around the room.
Doroshenko continued in a more serious tone.
—"I am not arguing against reform. Quite the opposite. Reform is inevitable. But if we wish to preserve order in the countryside, we must understand exactly how it will be carried out."
—"Are you proposing that we preserve the estates of the landowners?"
—"I am proposing that we avoid chaos."
Vynnychenko shook his head.
—"Sometimes I think educated men fear change more than the people themselves."
—"And sometimes," Doroshenko replied calmly, "I think certain revolutionaries regard any form of caution as counterrevolution."
Several deputies smiled.
Discussions like these had become a regular part of the commission's work.
Until that moment Petliura had remained silent.
Now he finally looked up from the papers before him.
—"The problem is that both of you are speaking about the future. I am forced to think about tomorrow."
—"What exactly do you mean?" one deputy asked.
—"Any land reform will require a government capable of implementing it."
He tapped a map of Ukraine lying on the table.
—"The situation in Kharkiv is unstable. Bolshevik agitation is growing in the Donbas. The army continues to deteriorate. If the state proves too weak, none of these reforms will survive long enough to be carried out."
Vynnychenko frowned.
—"You always return to the question of force."
—"Because the question refuses to disappear."
Petliura's voice remained calm.
There was no irritation.
No attempt to provoke anyone.
That only made his words more convincing.
—"The last several months have demonstrated one simple truth. A government may proclaim any law it wishes. The real question is who possesses the ability to enforce it."
The room once again fell silent.
Many understood that there was truth in what he said.
Hrushevskyi intervened before the discussion could develop into another lengthy argument.
—"Let us try not to transform every issue into a philosophical debate on the nature of government."
A few men laughed quietly.
The chairman allowed himself a faint smile.
—"Our task today is far more practical. We must finish the document."
He picked up one of the drafts.
—"Let us begin with the status of Ukraine."
This question lay at the center of nearly every discussion.
Only a few months earlier, many had still hoped for a democratic federal Russia.
After October, such hopes appeared increasingly uncertain.
Yet immediate full independence still lacked unanimous support.
One of the socialist representatives rose from his seat.
—"We must not sever our ties with revolutionary Russia."
Voices immediately emerged throughout the room.
Some supported him.
Others shook their heads in disagreement.
Doroshenko spoke after a brief pause.
—"The difficulty is that no one can clearly explain what Russia actually is today."
The room fell quiet once more.
—"The monarchy no longer exists. The Provisional Government no longer exists. Bolshevik authority does not extend across the entire country. Who exactly is supposed to be our partner in this future federation?"
For several moments, nobody answered.
Petliura stared thoughtfully out the window.
Vynnychenko slowly shuffled through his papers.
Finally, Hrushevskyi spoke.
—"Perhaps we do not need to make that final decision today."
Several deputies looked at him with surprise.
—"What do you mean?"
—"We can proclaim the Ukrainian People's Republic now while leaving the future structure of the former Empire unresolved."
—"You propose maintaining the federal formula?" someone asked.
—"For the time being, yes."
Vynnychenko nodded thoughtfully.
The proposal represented a compromise.
It would allow the proclamation of a Ukrainian republic without alienating large portions of the socialist movement.
After nearly an hour of discussion, most of those present agreed.
The work continued.
Gradually the debate shifted toward civil rights.
Here there was considerably less disagreement.
Nearly every faction supported freedom of speech, freedom of assembly, the abolition of estate privileges, and the expansion of civil rights.
Far more controversy emerged when the discussion turned toward economics and administration.
By evening, the atmosphere in the chamber had grown noticeably heavier.
The delegates were exhausted.
Empty tea glasses stood scattered across the tables.
Several men removed their spectacles and rubbed their temples.
Yet no one seemed willing to leave.
Everyone understood that they were participating in the creation of a document that would become part of history.
That was precisely why the debates continued long into the night.