Interview with Anton Liahusha, a Candidate of Historical Sciences, Dean of the Faculty of Master’s Social and Humanitarian Studies at the Kyiv School of Economics (KSE) for the Museum of Civilian Voices founded by Rinat Akhmetov Foundation.
The Kyiv History Museum is hosting the exhibition “Diaries of the Civilians: Voices of those who survived and those who did not”. This is a documentary project of the Museum of Civilian Voices founded by the Rinat Akhmetov Foundation, which collects and stores the world’s largest collection of accounts of the war in Ukraine. So far, the Museum has collected more than 130,000 stories.
As part of the exhibition, a public interview with Anton Liahusha, a Candidate of Historical Sciences, Dean of the Faculty of Master’s Social and Humanitarian Studies at the Kyiv School of Economics (KSE), took place.
The topic of the conversation is “Memory of War: How Ukraine Comprehends Trauma and Builds the Future”.
Public interviews as part of the documentary project “Diaries of the Civilians: Voices of those who survived and those who did not” are part of a series of cultural events of the Museum of Civilian Voices founded by the Rinat Akhmetov Foundation aimed at preserving the memory of the war.
The conversation was moderated by Natalia Yemchenko, Communications Director of System Capital Management, member of the Supervisory Board of the Rinat Akhmetov Foundation.
Nataliia Yemchenko: Good afternoon, Mr Anton. Tell me, why have people in Ukraine never studied and cared for their memory?
Anton Liahusha: It would be unfair to say that Ukraine has never done this. We have good history departments. The study of memory is not exclusively a historical matter, but an intersection of many disciplines: from classical history to artificial intelligence. Our students learn to code in order to work with large amounts of data, because they also need to master modern platforms such as X, Reddit, Facebook, and other social networks. In fact, the problem is that the field of memory research itself is relatively young.
Memory is not about people or institutions that can make decisions. But if we look at memory as a pendulum that can swing one way or the other in the direction of political levers – for example, during elections – using historical arguments, we will see that memory is a political subject. We have already seen this in Ukrainian society. The memory of great tragedies – and unfortunately, we are constantly going through them – requires an entire ecosystem, and there should be a systematic approach to this. Memory needs to be developed, it needs to be infrastructural, accessible, known, and promoted. We need to invest in memory. Moreover, memory teaches us, perhaps the most important thing of all, how to live next to the dead.
Nataliia Yemchenko: I would like to return to the thesis that memory is becoming a political subject, especially against the backdrop of what is happening in the world today. We don’t know how to remember, and we have to regain this skill. We know little about our great-grandparents, we don’t keep family relics. Today, we see how memory is rapidly eroding, even in countries where it has always been part of a large industry. Why is this entropy happening?
Anton Liahusha: This is a very complex issue because it is precisely about human responsibility. Memory cannot exist without our will to remember.
For example, in the USA, despite the existence of a powerful “memory industry” – museums, research, initiatives like Black Lives Matter – there is a rapid loss of institutional capacity to preserve memory.
The younger generation seems confused and has no experience of self-organisation or protest. People want to act, but they don’t know how, because they don’t have guides or tutors. And this is important because the history of protests is always about continuity, learning and education for resistance. In turn, this contrasts with Ukraine, where the struggle for memory is a process of continuity. It was formed over generations, from collecting folklore to the Maidan. We have passed on knowledge, sometimes almost instinctively, and preserved the skills of resistance that became key during the revolutions. Memory can be viewed in two ways. The first is as a project for society that shapes values such as truth, justice, and identity. The second is as a mirror that shows who we are now and at what stage of development we are. This is the power and complexity of preserving historical memory.
Nataliia Yemchenko: So it is both a study and an understanding that memory is something that is fought for. It turns into a so-called symbolic capital that has value and works for the nation, supporting the continuity of the community. Is this exactly what is happening?
Anton Liahusha: A very vivid example of how memory can be used to legitimise power, turning into real capital, is the year 35. Mussolini used memory to boost support by claiming that Italy had become the Roman Empire after the invasion of Abyssinia. He received tremendous support at the time. When we think from this perspective, memory becomes symbolic capital that influences politics and social development.
In Ukraine, the memory of certain events, such as that of Bandera or Shevchenko, also has a symbolic value and is used in political campaigns. Memory will also become an important tool of manipulation after the war is over, influencing political forces and businesses. You and I will live with this war until our last breath, we will have a radical change in thinking and a radical change in the reaction of society. This will have long-term consequences for the country and its development.
Nataliia Yemchenko: In the Ukrainian context, it is important to understand what is the role of each of us in preserving memory? Does every Ukrainian have specific responsibilities in this process, and if so, what are they?
Anton Liahusha: There is a specific role for each of us in preserving memory, and it is a matter of choice, readiness and awareness. For example, I have this example: students decided to hold a minute’s silence on the train at 9 a.m. to honour the victims. This is an act of self-awareness. That is, the role in preserving memory is primarily to work with it. This is our readiness to donate, to read, to teach children and to tell true stories, because this is the most important and the most difficult thing. History is a precise science, like mathematics, that requires facts and documents. Today’s society is not used to verifying information, which makes it difficult to comprehend it in depth. However, even through a mosaic approach, memory can be an act of resistance or acceptance.
Each person can be important, preserved, or even become a great example of memory after death. I always cite the story of Viktoriia Zamchenko, a sommelier at the Goodwine store, as an example. In 2022, not far from Zhuliany in Kyiv, a russian drone hit the house where she lived. Then the company did an extremely touching thing. They set up a rack in Kyiv called “The Wine Vika Loved”. This wine was sold for a very long time, and then her friends and other people suggested that Ukrainian wineries create individual bottles of “Vika” wine. I checked – even on the website, you can still buy some items. This is a good example of working with memory.
However, on the other hand, there are examples of bad decisions when the inscriptions on monuments are changed according to the Soviet model, which can reproduce Soviet propaganda. Such decisions enter the discourse if they are perceived as an attempt to change the context. Other examples include the work of organisations that create digital memorials. IT companies are actively incorporating the memory of the war into their corporate culture, recognising its importance. One of the most pressing issues is digital moments of silence – how to hold such moments in the online environment: sitting, standing, switching off the camera or setting up a lock on the iPhone.
Nataliia Yemchenko: I believe that during a minute of silence, you should do something specific, for example, donate. You feel better immediately.
Anton Liahusha: For me, a minute of silence is thinking about someone, it is an action. I may be running to a meeting and be late, but I know exactly what I will be thinking, remembering the living and the dead, because I also believe that a minute of silence is not only about honouring the dead, but also about remembering the living. I always do it. Why? Because then the minute of silence becomes a habitual practice. It is the solidarity of our lives and everyday life. This repeated ritual becomes a part of you.
Now let’s think about children. According to child psychology, until the fifth grade, they cannot stand still, even if they understand why, not because they do not want to or do not respect, but because they are children. When I asked teachers at the ministry about the minute of silence, I said that at this moment you can do many additional tasks. For example, during a minute of silence, you can look for synonyms for the word “gratitude” with children. This is the development of thinking and speech. You can also sit and write, draw – this is also important, because if we don’t understand what action is behind an act, sooner or later it becomes alienated.
Nataliia Yemchenko: I just thought about it: Why do we say “a minute of silence” and not “a minute of remembrance”? After all, we keep silence to remember.
Anton Liahusha: It happened historically. The first minute of silence was created by South Africans, which is why it was called that. But how it was later absorbed, privatised and used as a tool of control is another story. It should be understood that we have not fully analysed and worked through the entire set of social engineering tools used by the Soviet system, which we still automatically accept into our lives without reflecting on them as a tool of subjugation.
Nataliia Yemchenko: I think this hinders us, because, as you said, we are following Soviet imperial memorial practices. Maybe because we don’t have our own, because this place is already occupied.
Anton Liahusha: We are now forming a new memorial culture without knowing its final point. We are forming a vocabulary, we are forming practices, genres, experiments, spontaneous memorials. I call this democratic memory. This is a social process. The situation has changed in three years: we have new practices, vocabulary, and genres, but the implementation often follows the Soviet way because of outdated legislation.
Many of the old norms remain, so state institutions have to set boundaries for memorialisation. A law on war memorialisation is currently being drafted to define the basic rules. Spontaneous memorials, such as the flags on the Maidan, are a quick reaction of society to the slowness of the state. We are creating an expressive order of remembrance, because war is not only about losses, but also about fear of possible destruction and the desire to preserve memory.
Nataliia Yemchenko: Digital memory that accumulates still doesn’t solve this.
Anton Liahusha: All this does not solve the problem, people still need material objects. After all, we still walk the streets, roads, and step on the ground. And digital memory is a very important element, because it is primarily about accessibility, ease of storage, potential security, the ability to distribute data, the ability to avoid destroying archives when nothing remains, and the ability to make large amounts of memory public.
The Scandinavians have been thinking about their memory policies for a very long time in terms of monuments, memorials and cemeteries. And they have inscribed their places of remembrance in these green spaces of forests, elves and everything else. It’s so in keeping with their culture. This is exactly the kind of memorial project – memory as an anthropological mirror of society. We have to be complicit in the space we live in.
Nataliia Yemchenko: There are not enough tuning forks in Ukraine – there is no clear state policy, and people need guidance. It seems to me that a tuning fork in the field of memory could help avoid mistakes. People don’t want to make mistakes, but they don’t know what to rely on and who to check with. What do you think?
Anton Liahusha: The field of truth is expanding in Ukraine. Still, I want to start with the Institute of National Memory, because they have very good specialists. We are educating such tuning forks. I really believe that this year will be the first large graduation of real specialists who are already in the field, with whom we are researching, who have been studying, in particular, the history of the USSR as a separate large course for a very long time. This is not an association, after all, but a group of NGOs that work in the field and consult with us all the time.
I wouldn’t want to privatise it and say that we are such tuning forks. No, we are also just working on the formation of this new memorial culture. The issue is that part of this field is terribly neglected by the state institutions that need to be supported and financed, because whether we like it or not, the issue of money is very important. This work is now being carried out in many educational institutions in Ukraine, and I would like to boast of my Kyiv School of Economics, where we have excellent specialists.
Nataliia Yemchenko: Are there any examples of memory preservation in the world that we can rely on? Or does it seem that this is a challenge that has not yet been answered?
Anton Liahusha: This is a challenge, but in some cases there are good examples. In particular, Northwestern University, which is creating an archive that seems to be the largest in the world in terms of oral histories and war stories. There are also the Japanese, and there is beautiful South Africa with its incredible digital archive and multi-storey apartheid house museum. Obviously, the Americans know how to work with digital. I have been very impressed with Cambodia and South Korea lately. The archives of the latter are something incredible in terms of the solutions they find. These are, of course, challenges for us, but you know, where there are challenges, there is always an opportunity for people, businesses, intellectuals, geniuses to find solutions.
Nataliia Yemchenko: The topic of archives and diaries is particularly important for the Museum of Civilian Voices founded by Rinat Akhmetov Foundation. We work a lot with the diaries of the dead. This is a separate and very tragic genre. Do you have a vision of what should happen to such diaries?
Anton Liahusha: I should note that diaries are my favourite genre of historical sources. We are talking about diaries, which can be simply a record: what the person handed in, what he or she gave out, how much he or she bought. This is very important information, isn’t it? And in 60 years, it will be priceless. These are incredible things. But we have to remember that a diary is a source of personal origin, or, to use precise sourcebook language, an ego document. And where there are ego documents, there are always difficulties: with interpretation, reading, understanding the context.
You need to have the skills to properly store these documents, work with them, and most importantly, interpret them. I cannot give a definite answer to the question of what to do with such diaries. I think it would be cool to create a separate digital archive of diaries. It would be a very good initiative. However, I would like to call for something else: to learn how to interpret diaries, to quote them. Because you and I must remember that it is very easy to use the dead and speak on their behalf in our own voice. All politicians do this, and this is a very dangerous story.
Nataliia Yemchenko: We also have another question from the audience about working with the memory of Soviet Ukraine and Ukraine’s contribution to the victory in World War II. Recently, there was a discussion and an open letter in which there were accusations that Ukraine was allegedly renouncing this contribution. How to deal with this?
Anton Liahusha: In fact, there is good research on Ukraine’s contribution to the Second World War, conducted by historians at the Institute of History of the National Academy of Sciences of Ukraine. But these works remain “widely known in narrow circles”. This is a problem because there is a lack of popularisation. This is also our diplomatic defeat. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs is trying to work on this topic, but an analytical department alone is not enough, we need resources and systematic support for humanities. After all, this war is primarily a humanitarian war, a war for values.
Ukraine lost the information war even before 2014 – russian propaganda was more powerful. And now we have to catch up. We need to invest in science, support researchers, and encourage the writing of popular yet scientifically sound texts. This is the task of public history – to create clear, convincing narratives based on facts.
Another critical problem is the absence of a state institute for studying russia. This is strange, because in the West, after the beginning of the Cold War, the study of the USSR was funded by millions. For a long time, we lived under the illusion that “they are like us”. But the war showed us otherwise: the russians expected us to surrender, and we expected them not to be cruel. Both sides were wrong. Their mistake cost them defeat, ours gave us a chance to survive.