From University to Battlefield: How a Narrative Took Power

Does the university discourse shape public opinion? And can the discourse of humanitarian cultural institutions influence military planning? Today, I will try to answer these questions by examining the most unexpected yet all-encompassing trend in this context — the issue of decolonization.

However, in my opinion, this issue has become particularly complex in Ukraine. Here, in order to communicate with the people, the authorities have always sought a support group, and by relying on it, they have opposed not only an external enemy, but also certain groups within the population who, by their nature, are not enemies of Ukraine. Rather, these groups are more oriented toward creating something that goes beyond the strictly national Ukrainian framework, and not solely focused on the fight against Russia or the promotion of national-patriotic ideas.

But the ideological tool that the current Ukrainian government has chosen is not aimed at maintaining a national-patriotic spirit at all. It is aimed solely at one thing: to rid Ukraine of part of its own culture in the name of fighting Russia.

Next, I want to trace this troubling stance in the state’s communication with its people by examining each aspect of the struggle for the country’s future. But in Ukraine’s case, during wartime, this is not just about a bright future — it’s also about the survival of the nation.

I will use quotes from various political essays and interviews by critics known in Ukraine and abroad — the philosopher popular among intellectuals, Andrii Baumeister, and the military analyst who formerly worked in Zelensky’s administration, Oleksiy Arestovych.

Culture and Art

Beyond the routine gestures of “decolonization” — such as renaming streets and dismantling monuments — a quieter and, in my view, far more dangerous trend is gaining momentum: the desire to erase from public memory those Ukrainians who do not fit into the current ideology.

Many of them did not openly fight for the “Ukrainian idea” as it is understood today. Some spoke Russian as their native language. Others were ethnically Russian — yet their contributions to the development of Kyiv or Kharkiv were essential.

They were not enemies of Ukraine — and yet it is precisely these individuals who are increasingly being excluded from history as inconvenient.

“Just like in Soviet times, things are timidly and narrowly interpreted. A name is used, but what the person actually thought or wrote is never mentioned.”

“There was a governor-general in Kyiv, Dmytro Havrylovych Bibikov. Since 1837, he served as Kyiv’s military governor… He did a great deal for women’s education and built the most beautiful women’s institute — a building that still stands today. He cared for orphans, created the central archive, and a temporary commission for the review of ancient documents… He contributed greatly to Kyiv’s development. But he is absent from the topography of our history. Why? Because our thinking is narrow, impoverished, flat.”

Another example of what is now branded as “decolonization” in current Ukrainian ideology is the stripping away of Great European culture from Ukraine. Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff, for example, are being removed from theatre repertoires.

Yet the dismantling of monuments and the banning of Russian classics are often internally associated with the act of resisting the brutality of the Russian army. This is how the absurd — yet popular — argument arose that “if everyone spoke Ukrainian, there would be no war.”

“I hear: it’s understandable that some Ukrainians can no longer bear to hear the Russian language or tolerate names like Pushkin or Tchaikovsky. They develop associations — painful and emotionally traumatic. And here I ask myself: who is creating these associations? Who connects Tchaikovsky with the missile that hits a children’s hospital in Kyiv?”

Thus, a collective emotion becomes a political tool, whose influence in wartime politics can quickly lead to heavy consequences for the future. People begin to lose culture. A sense of futility arises. Because even a total ban on the Russian language and culture will not stop the Russian army. In this way, people are deceived — temporarily united around a painful and emotionally traumatic association. But this does not heal the wound in society, and Ukraine will lose its culture.

Universities

University lecturers are being pressured to conform to ideological trends. As a result, refusal to participate may negatively impact their professional careers or even put their lives at risk.

“The professor is pressured from both sides: university bureaucracy and student groups.”

Furthermore, the influence of this new “temporary ideology” may harm the inherited national university tradition.

Andriy Baumeister expresses similar concerns. In his video “The Free Philosopher. Farewell to the University,” he concludes the chapter of his teaching life — 31 years at Taras Shevchenko National University of Kyiv, 20 years at the Thomas Aquinas Institute, and 8 years at the Kyiv-Mohyla Academy.

It becomes clear from these statements that the decolonization trend now dominates the cultural space. It is no longer just a proposal — it is treated as the only correct worldview. And this situation is not unique to Ukraine.

Military Strategy

Lieutenant Colonel Arestovych confirms that the idea of decolonization is becoming a factor in military decision-making. During a stalemate on the front line, society needs answers and action. But instead of rational motivation to address the situation and establish honest communication with the public, the leadership opts for symbolic gestures — “So that it’s not like in the Soviet Union.” This only temporarily satisfies the public’s need for answers from the authorities. In reality, however, the situation on the front remains deadlocked.

In other words, the decision to transition from a divisional system to a corps system was not based on military efficiency, but rather as a symbolic gesture of final rupture with the Soviet past. This decision is harmful because it contradicts the resources and traditions that are actually available.

Political Ontology

The ideological core of the American nation is the “City upon a Hill” — the American people as a moral-ethical and practical example for the world. In Ukraine, instead of having our own ideological core that would serve as a moral guide for us, we have the ideology of decolonization. There is no idea that has been carried forward since Kievan Rus and enriched by all of our history, with which the intellectual elite would create a context for politicians to make long-term political decisions.

“All of our state ideology is entirely built on opposing Putin’s regime. And beyond this grand narrative, nothing at all emerges.”

These quotes from Oleksii represent criticism of the narrow, reactionary thinking imposed by the decolonial discourse. This thinking has replaced the imperial idea. We often see in Ukraine a mindset shaped more by rejection of the enemy than by building something of our own. The national idea is not grounded in deep reflection on our identity, but in constant reaction. Culture becomes a battlefield, instead of a space for growth.

Conclusion

The Ukrainian version of decolonial discourse carries a dangerous potential for our identity — the very root of our unity and our ability to defend ourselves. First on the philosophical front, and then within military planning.

Step by step, it erases the complex cultural heritage of people with a phenomenal interweaving of ethnic origins and cultural traditions, and may lead to intellectual and spiritual exhaustion.

Universities are losing their autonomy, culture is losing its depth, and society — its immunity to manipulation and its capacity for reflection. Under the guise of “decolonization” and liberation, we risk losing precisely what we are striving to protect: our broad, multifaceted, and genuinely European Ukrainian identity.

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