By Matt Underwood 
Ukraine’s staunch opposition to Russia’s upcoming WWII Victory Day parade underscores a deep historical and political chasm. The Ukrainian government’s call for a boycott isn’t simply a matter of diplomatic posturing; it’s a powerful statement rooted in a complex and often painful re-evaluation of the past. The assertion that the Soviet Union’s role in the defeat of Nazi Germany shouldn’t be celebrated as “liberation” reflects a perspective that views Soviet actions not as acts of altruism but as a replacement of one oppressive regime with another.
This perspective highlights the immense human cost of Soviet rule in Eastern Europe, a cost often overlooked amidst celebrations of victory over the Nazis. Millions perished not just at the hands of the Nazis but also under the brutal, totalitarian regime that followed. The argument isn’t that the Soviet Union’s contribution to defeating Nazi Germany is negligible—far from it; the Soviets undeniably played a crucial role. Rather, the issue lies in how this contribution is framed and celebrated. To Ukrainians, the narrative of “liberation” rings hollow when juxtaposed with the realities of Soviet oppression that followed.
The very act of celebrating this victory in such a grandiose manner by Russia, particularly in the context of the current war in Ukraine, is viewed with immense cynicism. It’s seen as a cynical attempt to legitimize the current invasion, drawing a false parallel between the fight against Nazi Germany and the ongoing war against Ukraine. It’s a deliberate attempt to manipulate historical narratives to serve present political ambitions. For Ukraine, this is an act of blatant historical revisionism, an attempt to rewrite the past to justify the present aggression.
The argument further extends to the complicated legacy of Ukrainian wartime collaborations and atrocities. The acknowledgment of past atrocities committed by certain Ukrainian groups during WWII, while important, shouldn’t serve as a justification for Russia’s actions. The discussion often spirals into a heated debate about historical interpretation, with differing accounts of the Volhynia massacre and the actions of groups like the OUN and UPA. These discussions, however, often overshadow the core issue: Russia’s current aggression and its attempt to manipulate historical narratives to justify its actions.
The comparison made between a kidnapper rescuing someone from a murderer and the Soviet Union’s actions accurately captures the nuanced perspective. While the Soviet Union’s role in defeating the Nazis is undeniable, the subsequent decades of Soviet occupation and oppression cannot be ignored. To celebrate the arrival of a different form of tyranny as liberation is fundamentally inaccurate and disrespectful to the memory of those who suffered under both regimes. The boycott call is, therefore, a way to reclaim the narrative and to honor the genuine sacrifices made without whitewashing the brutal realities of the past.
The call for a boycott also reflects a broader resistance to the autocratic nature of the current Russian regime. The parade itself is viewed not just as a historical commemoration but as a display of autocratic power and a tool of political propaganda. The ongoing war against Ukraine is seen as a testament to Russia’s disregard for the values it ostensibly celebrates. The Ukrainian call for a boycott serves as a rejection of this narrative and a defense of its own national identity and sovereignty.
Ultimately, Ukraine’s plea for a boycott is not merely a diplomatic maneuver; it’s a powerful expression of national identity, a refusal to accept a falsified history, and a bold rejection of the Russian regime’s attempts to use the past to justify its present actions. It’s a call for a more honest and nuanced understanding of history, and a demand for an end to the ongoing aggression against Ukraine. The call to boycott highlights the complex moral and political realities of a conflict rooted in deep historical wounds and contemporary ambitions.