The Continuing Tragedy of Ukraine: An Interview with Nicolai Petro
The following is an interview with Nicolai N. Petro about his book, The Tragedy of Ukraine (De Gruyter, 2023). It was conducted by István Szabó of the Hungarian daily newspaper Magyar Nemzez on July 12, 2025.
What inspired you to approach the Russia–Ukraine conflict through the lens of classical Greek tragedy? Why did you choose this particular cultural reference?
I had been thinking about writing a book about Ukraine ever since our first visit there in 2008. When I won a Fulbright Grant to spend the 2013-2014 academic year in Odessa, I thought of writing about the influence of the Russian Orthodox Church in Ukrainian society. This topic, however, was quickly overtaken by the events that were unfolding around us—the Maidan uprising.
I subsequently spent several more years thinking about how such a seemingly stable society could shatter in just a few short months. I found no suitable approach, until I stumbled upon Professor Richard Ned Lebow’s book The Tragic Vision of Politics.
In it, he looks at modern conflicts through the lens of political realism inspired by Thucydides’ classic history of the Peloponnesian War (431 to 404 BC). Thucydides traced the roots of this conflict among the Greeks to the collapse of the traditions and practices that had sustained their civilization for so long. Simply put, war erupted because the leaders of Athens and Sparta decided that they no longer shared ideas, identity, and values, and so were no longer bound to each other.
I felt that this was a good description of what had taken place in relations between Russians and Ukrainians since the Orange Revolution of 2004.
In your book, the concept of catharsis plays a central role. How do you interpret catharsis in the context of the current geopolitical situation, particularly with regard to Ukraine?
Recurring conflict is a problem of the heart, as much as it is of political institutions. This is as true of nations as it is of individuals. The enduring value of classical Greek tragedy is that it seeks to induce a change of heart—which the Greeks called catharsis—a purging of emotions so powerful that it allowed emotions such as pity and compassion to enter the soul, and to take the place of rage.
By showing the horrors that result from the unyielding pursuit of vengeance, Greek playwrights tried to lead citizens away from anger and vengeance, and toward compassion. By replacing rage with reason, they believed catharsis could liberate both individuals and societies from the tragic cycle of vengeance.
Catharsis is based on the ability to see the enemy, the Other, as a co-sufferer, so that endless conflict can give way to dialogue, and eventually forgiveness. Put another way, no conflict can ever be resolved without a catharsis.
What could such a form of catharsis mean for the future of the Ukrainian state and society? Is it even possible in the midst of an ongoing war?
I believe that Sophocles, Euripides, and Aeschylus would prescribe for Ukrainian society what they prescribed for themselves– a profound shift in social attitudes that would allow people who hate each other to engage in dialogue. Without such a catharsis there can be no dialogue about the future, because there is no shared future.
In my book I suggest that Ukraine would benefit from a Truth and Reconciliation process, which has helped scores of countries to heal conflicts, both domestic and international. This would be an important step in reconciling the antagonistic segments of Ukrainian society, and in restoring trust in government institutions.
In your book, you highlight that many people in eastern and southern Ukraine identify with Russian cultural identity. What are the consequences if this identity is not recognized at the political level?
The persistent divisions within Ukrainian society derive from its history of being a focus of contention between rival empires, including Russia, Austro-Hungary, and the Ottomans. When these empires collapsed in the early 20th century, their frictions were often inherited by the countries that emerged from them.
The largest community within modern Ukraine are those seeking to preserve a cultural, religious, and linguistic tie with Russia. In my book I refer to them not as “Russian speakers,” which oversimplifies their identity, but as Maloross Ukrainians. This older term was commonly used before the Bolshevik Revolution because it highlights that this identity goes far beyond language and religious affiliation, even though these are the most widely discussed points of contention today.
These two Ukrainian identities, which can be thought of as two nations living in one state, have not yet learned how to live together, and this has led to the bloody war that the country is enduring today.
Do you think it is possible for Ukraine to develop an inclusive national narrative in the long term—one that provides a legitimate place for its Russian-speaking population? If so, how?
It is certainly possible. Other countries have done it—Belgium, Switzerland, Canada, India, Indonesia, to name a few. The main obstacle that needs to be overcome is atavistic nationalism, which says that a nation must consist of only one monolithic identity, and which therefore sees all other identities as threats. Such nationalism seeks to redefine and restrict ethnicity, language, religion, and historical memory. Eventually, however, the list expands to include almost any characteristic, which is why nationalism is often seen as a precursor to Fascism and Nazism.
What role has the international community—especially the West—played in either reinforcing or exacerbating Ukraine’s internal tensions?
U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio recently stated (Fox News, 5 March 2025) that the West is involved in a proxy war against Russia in Ukraine. This makes it a continuation of what 19th century British rulers commonly referred to as “The Great Game”—a global chess match between rival powers aimed at shifting the overall balance of power in their favor.
The impact on any nation caught up in the “game” has always been devastating, as the competing powers each promote their indigenous supporters. This inflames existing social tensions, and turns every political debate into a choice of good versus evil. That is why Ukrainian nationalists referred to their Maidan coup d’etat against president Viktor Yanukovych, as a “civilizational choice” in favor of the West. This in turn led to the rebellions of Crimea and Donbass, which were supported by Russia.
In your view, would the West ever be willing to accept a Ukrainian national vision that is not exclusively Western-oriented but also culturally multipolar? Are there any historical or international precedents for this?
The West contains many diverse elites, with many diverse agendas. While it is hard to imagine the current political leadership of the EU accepting a neutral Ukraine that had good relations with both Russia and the EU (this was already an obstacle during the EU Association talks in 2013), the political climate in Europe and the United States seems to be shifting away from this group, and toward elites that place their own national interest first. This is causing the once monolithic West to fracture.
It is therefore possible that, when current political leaders are replaced by their national electorates, their successors will seek better relations with Russia, even at the expense of Ukraine, since Russia is a far more important neighbor for Europe.
What do you see as the biggest challenge in conveying your book’s message to the direct actors in the conflict? How might this kind of discourse gain wider societal resonance?
The biggest challenge in the resolution of any conflict, large or small, is getting the parties now immersed in the conflict to recognize the extent to which they themselves helped to bring about this conflict. That is why the Greeks said that true object of dialogue was self-transformation. Classical Greek tragedy is, quintessentially, a series of dialogues in which we are all encouraged to reflect on our own tragic flaws. Only when the participants can grasp how their own actions have stoked the hatred of others, can they choose a different path.
Welsh social critic Raymond Williams captured this perfectly when he said that, “Tragedy rests not in the individual destiny. . . but in the general condition, of a people reducing or destroying itself because it is not conscious of its true condition” (Modern Tragedy, p. 196).
Greek playwrights could convey this message through plays that were mandatory for the entire polis. Today we cannot gather all citizens in one place, but governments could use social media to spread a message of tolerance, dialogue, and forgiveness of our enemies, if they wanted to.
Of course, in a world of rival nation-states it would be naïve to expect political leaders to do so, unless it could be shown to benefit their own political careers, and as being the supreme national interest. Over the past few decades several senior diplomats have tried to steer American foreign policy in this direction, including such luminaries as George F. Kennan, Amb. Jack F. Matlock, Jr., and Amb. Chas W. Freeman, Jr..
On a personal level, how has your perspective on the Ukraine–Russia relationship changed during the course of your research? Was there any insight that particularly surprised you?
I was struck by the consensus that once existed among scholars regarding the totalitarian aspirations of nationalism. Reinhold Niebuhr once commented that nationalism is when “the nation pretends to be God.” The danger of this seems to have been almost entirely forgotten today.
I was impressed by the successes of Truth and Reconciliation Commissions in healing social wounds that have festered for many decades. In my book I look at what they were able to accomplish in South Africa, to prevent violence after the end of the apartheid regime; in Guatemala, to support reconciliation after nearly four decades of civil war and American intervention; and in Spain, to assist the peaceful transition to federalism and democracy after 36 years of dictatorship.
In a similar vein, inside Ukraine we can point to the remarkable peacemaking efforts of Sergei Sivokho, a close friend of Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky who, with the president’s support, set up a National Platform for Reconciliation and Unity. Unfortunately, he was hounded out of his position by Ukrainian nationalists, and died soon afterwards.
On a personal note, I find it amusing that I am sometimes accused of being too naïve about politics. I would counter that if a policy fails to achieve the results it promises (like sanctions on Russia, which were supposed to lead to the rapid collapse of the Russian economy), then expecting success from more of the same is both naïve and irresponsible.
Policies should be judged by their results, and when a policy has persistently failed, governments should consider other approaches. In the case of Ukraine, Western efforts to promote security through escalation have patently failed. Why not, then, see if better results can be achieved by reducing military involvement, rather than expanding it?
There is historical precedent for this—the 1953 Korean Armistice Agreement. After a series of contentious negotiations, a ceasefire was finally achieved not through increasing arms and support for South Korea, but through a total embargo on any new weapons being introduced onto the peninsula. This embargo was monitored by the United Nations. The parties also agreed to hold later talks on a permanent peace treaty, but by 1954 the United States had already moved on to the conflict in Vietnam. As a result, the ceasefire that was meant to be temporary became permanent. While this is certainly not an optimal solution, it has resulted in more than seventy years of peace.
Another criticism that I sometimes hear is that I minimize the role of Russian aggression. Again, I disagree. I have always pointed out that the invasion of Ukraine is a violation of international law, but my study of Ukrainian history leads me to conclude that, while Russia initiated the current level of hostilities, their roots go much, much deeper. Understanding this complex history does not in any way minimize, mitigate, or justify Russia’s attack on Ukraine. It is however, vital for the healing of Ukrainian society, and for achieving a lasting peace after the war.
About Nicolai Petro:
Nicolai N. Petro is Professor of Political Science at the University of Rhode Island, where he previously held the Silvia-Chandley Professorship of Peace Studies and Nonviolence. His scholarly awards include two Fulbright awards (one to Russia and one to Ukraine), a Council on Foreign Relations Fellowship, and research awards from the Foreign Policy Research Institute, the National Council for Eurasian and East European Research, the Kennan Institute for Advanced Russian Studies in Washington, D.C., and the Hoover Institution at Stanford University. In 2021 he was a Visiting Fellow at the Institute of Advanced Studies at the University of Bologna, Italy.
