1

Negotiating Ukrainian
Independence

Brian Mulroney and the Challenge

of Systemic Change
It was an auspicious occasion when some 400
guests gathered at Ottawa’s majestic Château
Laurier hotel on a May evening in 2007 to honour
Canada’s eighteenth prime minister, the Right
Honourable Brian Mulroney. The former prime
minister was to be awarded two medals: the
Order of Prince Yaroslav the Wise – the highest
honour that Ukraine can confer on a foreign
citizen – and the Shevchenko Medal – an award
of the Ukrainian Canadian Congress (UCC) – a
body that represents the collective interests of
Ukrainian Canadians before the people and
government of Canada. The medals were
presented to Mulroney for his contributions to
Ukrainian development, especially with regard to
the decision taken some sixteen years earlier
recognizing Ukraine’s independence.
In attendance that evening were Prime Minister
Stephen Harper, fourteen members of the
government’s cabinet, and numerous other
dignitaries. For members of the community, the
event served as a gesture of thanks to Mulroney
for the singular decision taken so many years ago.
That a large number of senior officials were in
attendance also reaffirmed the close ties between
the community and the Canadian government.
For Harper and his government colleagues, their
presence was simply a way to pay homage to the
venerable statesman and to emphasize Canada’s
continuing commitment to Ukraine. As for
Mulroney, he took the opportunity to speak of his
foreign policy legacy, detailing his decision as part
of a wider struggle for freedom, opportunity, and
rights.1
The gala event accomplished a number of
things. The high-profile delegation gave the
community credibility, bolstering its legitimacy as
a partner while positioning it further in its effort
to assist Ukraine’s transition. But more
importantly, the celebration vindicated the years
of hard work on the part of generations of
Ukrainian Canadians who supported Ukraine’s
struggle for independence. Those in attendance
could take some satisfaction in the belief that
history had finally proven them right. The event,
however, also helped deepen the Harper
government’s connections with Ukrainian
Canadians. The Harper government seized the
occasion to reinvigorate its fortunes with the
community – strained somewhat because of its
forthright criticism of the reform efforts in
Ukraine – by symbolically linking the early
resolve of the Mulroney government with its
continuing support for Ukrainian self-
determination. The message that was conveyed –
defending freedom, then as now – was meant to
reinforce the political narrative favoured by the
Prime Minister’s Office: namely, that there were
moral imperatives behind Canada’s foreign policy
and it was Conservatives, above all others, who
tended the flame of liberty.2 To the extent that
the community shared this perspective it was
invited to become more involved in supporting
Ukrainian sovereignty and independence. The
gala, in effect, neatly and cleanly tied the past and
present together, seamlessly connected the
Ukrainian-Canadian community with the
government, and helped solidify the interests of
both.
The celebration communicated a sense of
inevitability and purposefulness about Ukrainian
independence and Canada’s role in it. Mulroney’s
remarks at the gala – describing Ukraine’s
independence as a “march to freedom” –
suggested Canadian recognition was deeply
rational, taking into account history’s progress,
which arced toward justice. It was the type of
narrative that would have resonated with a great
many in the audience. But the problem with this
story is that it conveys neither the complexity of
the moment nor the difficult nature of the original
decision.
At the time, Ukrainian independence was not
inevitable, nor was it obvious how Canada would
act. There were important issues at stake. These
included the uncertainty and possible negative
consequences associated with the unravelling of
the Soviet Union, a Western alliance system that
bound Canada to act with wider interests in mind,
and the spectre of Quebec separatism that served,
in general, as a brake on entertaining support for
independence movements elsewhere. There were
other issues, of course, but these were the matters
that exercised the minds and fuelled the concerns
of Canadian officials most. Still, Ukrainian
independence was recognized by Canada – the
first Western country to do so. What factors
account for this (including leadership) and how
did these combine to shape Canada-Ukraine
relations during this crucial, formative period? Or
more simply, how did Canada manage systemic
change in light of its interests?

The events leading to the dissolution of the Soviet

Union are now largely forgotten, having receded
from our collective memory. This, undoubtedly, is
the result of a happy outcome. No major wars
erupted and the change that occurred did so in an
orderly fashion. At the time, however, no one
could have predicted the end result. In point of
fact, there was much trepidation and anxiety.3
Indeed, the events that led to the eventual
collapse of the Soviet Union seemed to suggest a
completely different outcome and one that was a
lot worse. The events of early 1991 – rising
popular discontent in the Baltic republics and
their respective declarations of sovereignty – had
precipitated a crisis of confidence in the Soviet
leadership. The putsch that followed in Moscow,
organized by reactionary elements attempting to
restore Communist Party control, underscored
the dangers associated with an imploding centre.
In the aftermath of the failed coup, and fearing
resurgent and competing nationalisms, Western
leaders were forced to consider what decisions
they should take to best ensure stability. There
was a tangible sense that their decisions would be
critical if the situation was to be managed
successfully.
From the perspective of the West, in that
moment of flux, their options appeared limited.
There was, of course, the possibility of
intervening. But the more likely scenarios
included offering advice and guidance or simply
passively standing aside and letting events unfold
naturally. At the height of the crisis, Canada’s
foreign minister, Barbara McDougall, who was
charged with charting Canada’s foreign policy
response to the putsch (which saw the Soviet head
of state, Mikhail Gorbachev, kidnapped and held
against his will), stated that what mattered most
for Canada was policy, not personalities.
McDougall’s remarks implied that the coup was
acceptable so long as those who seized power
would respect the principle of democratization.4
On the face of it, the foreign minister’s remarks
were extraordinary in that they seemed to
harbour a naïve belief that those who committed
crimes and sought to use force to further their
ambitions could be expected to follow the rule of
law. Underlying the minister’s remarks, however,
was a sincere desire to help mitigate the potential
for further violence and not add to the
uncertainty. But as others observed, this was not
the time for caution.5 In the face of coercion and
repression, moral resolve and decisive leadership
were needed. Anything else was a concession to
reactionary forces and a retreat from political
responsibility. To this end, the Liberal opposition
leader in Canada’s parliament, Jean Chrétien,
lambasted the minister, advocating for a unified
Western response that would deter the coup
leaders, including the possible use of economic
sanctions. The Liberal foreign affairs critic, Lloyd
Axworthy, echoed Chrétien’s proposal, stating: “I
think while there’s still a flicker of hope that the
democratic forces in the Soviet Union can reassert
themselves, then we should continue to follow
that.”6
And yet Minister McDougall’s cautiousness was
not entirely misplaced. In the jockeying that
served as a prelude to the putsch and eventual
break-up of the Soviet Union, the prospect of
large-scale violence was real. Talk of violence was
ubiquitous. The issue of Ukraine’s borders with
Russia was hotly debated, as was the fate of Soviet
nuclear weapons. There was also the question of
ethnic Russians residing in the Baltics,
Kazakhstan, and Ukraine. What was Russia’s
responsibility to its kith and how would it
respond to any grievance or slight towards its
kindred in these places? The dissolution of the
Soviet Union threatened to bring national
tensions to a boil. It was a worrisome
development, prompting the US president,
George H.W. Bush, to venture to Kyiv on 1
August. There, in a speech to the Ukrainian
parliament, he maintained that the most
propitious course of action for Ukraine was to
remain in the Soviet Union, arguing that the US
would not support “a suicidal nationalism” that
would lead to “ethnic hatred.”
The idea that chaos would follow a collapse was
endemic, and it constituted part of the Canadian
calculus as well. To this end, shortly after the
failed coup, when Prime Minister Mulroney went
to Kennebunkport, Maine, on 26 August for a
working visit with the US president, Canadian
officials accompanying Mulroney made it clear
that certain conditions would have to be met
before Canada, de jure, would recognize Ukraine’s
independence. Specifically, Ukraine had to
negotiate a settlement with Russia on a number of
outstanding issues: borders, nuclear weapons,
and minority rights. These and other comments
reflected the deep concern within Canada’s
external affairs department that decisions neither
run ahead of events nor be taken without existing
policy in mind.7 Nominally, this meant
supporting the position of the Western alliance,
and the US in particular, which still put
considerable stock in the leadership and person of
Mikhail Gorbachev. It also meant maintaining
stability in the region.
But there was more at stake than the alliance
and international stability. For Canada, the issue
of independence raised the apparition of
separatism at home. Any decision entertaining
independence for Ukraine raised the spectre of
Quebec’s secession from the Canadian federation.
For those following developments in the Soviet
Union, they could not ignore the precedent that
such recognition would invoke. In a speech before
his caucus colleagues, Jacques Parizeau, leader of
the separatist Parti Québécois, recalled past
criticisms of Quebec’s independence quest and
now chastised those same critics. For Quebec
sovereigntists, international recognition of Baltic
independence in late August 1991 and the further
disintegration of the USSR signalled a promising
beginning for Quebec.
The idea, however, that the experience of
Canada and the USSR could be equated and that
the Quebec and Ukraine cases were somehow
comparable was roundly rejected and strongly
condemned by federalist politicians. When
Ontario’s premier, Bob Rae, was asked at the
annual provincial premiers’ summit in August
1991 about the comments made by Parizeau
equating the struggle for independence among
the republics in the Soviet Union with the push
for Quebec sovereignty, he described the analogy
simply as “grotesque.” The comparison, he said,
was fantasy, since it ignored the countless victims
of Soviet repression and the manner in which the
Soviet Union was politically conceived. “If
Mr. Parizeau seriously asks Canadians to compare
that to the voluntary participation of Quebec in
1867,” Rae contended, “then I think that’s an
insult to every Canadian, and to the historic
sensibility of people around the world.”8
Prime Minister Mulroney was equally adamant.
Denouncing the Soviet Union as “a totalitarian
and illegal integration of states,” he argued there
was no comparison to Canada. Rather to the
contrary, the prime minister maintained,
“Canadian experience and Canadian history is the
antithesis of the Soviet Union. It was component
states coming together freely asking for political
and economic unity. Nothing was ever imposed
on a Canadian, ever.”9 But Parizeau was not to be
dissuaded. As he noted, the point of his remarks
was not to suggest an analogous situation but to
appreciate the precedent-setting nature of
international recognition in which Canada was
poised to participate. Recognition, he argued,
could be swift and painless if there was sincerity
and goodwill.10
Speculation about the implications of Soviet
disunion for Quebec was rampant. And although
every attempt was made to decouple the Ukraine
and Quebec experiences, the argument that the
two were unrelated was not entirely convincing
when filtered through a democratic lens. As was
often repeated, the right of a people to self-
determination was universal. Not surprisingly,
the anxiety in some quarters was palpable and the
apprehension growing. Consequently, a number
of other arguments appeared with reference to
Ukraine and lessons for Quebec, which were
floated to deflect the issue.11 Was Ukraine
economically viable? Would it be able to satisfy
the requirement of territorial sovereignty? Did
Ukraine constitute a nation, given its ethnic
differences, linguistic cleavages, and political
divisions? Could it survive with such a torn
identity? Would separatism foster other internal
secessionist movements in Ukraine? Moreover, in
view of Ukraine’s long, close relationship with
Russia, was it right to destroy what history had
brought together? And then there were the
alternatives to consider. Disunion would prove
economically disruptive and debilitating, while
the natural tendency toward ethnic and territorial
consolidation would engender conflict, resulting,
as it had in the former Yugoslavia, in barbarity,
brutality, and destruction. As everyone was
reminded, the fate of Yugoslavia was not reserved
for it alone.
From the perspective of the Ukrainian-Canadian
community, which had long waited this moment,
the arguments seemed banal, clichéd,
patronizing, and trite. Who, reasonably speaking,
could object to freedom? Explanations and
rebuttals were penned in the major dailies. But
these had the appearance of lone statements
raging against a torrent of hostile public opinion
and resentment. The internal problems of a
foreign country, the detractors argued, were of no
concern to Canada, and Canadians of Ukrainian
ancestry needed to be reminded that their
allegiance was to Canada, not Ukraine. These and
other arguments weighed heavily on activists and
spokespersons, who were careful not to
antagonize. They looked to work within the
narrow confines of acceptable political discourse
and behaviour.12 But community leaders also
made clear that as Canadians they were simply
helping Canada recognize its interests. Ukraine
was not some isolated and distant land; there was
a natural connection and the interests of the
two peoples aligned.
For the organized Ukrainian-Canadian
community, it was unclear whether this
alignment of interests was understood in official
circles. Anecdotal evidence pointed to official
ambivalence and even opposition. How else, for
example, could the government’s failure to take
seriously the issue of Canadian consular
representation be explained? The Mulroney
government had committed as early as 1989 to
open a consulate in Kyiv. Two years on, there was
little evidence to suggest that the government
would make good on its promise. Indeed, in 1990,
a Canadian diplomatic representative was
assigned from Moscow to serve as consul general
in Kyiv but would not be accredited until 1991.
The consular service was also weakly supported
with only two staff members – one of whom was
dedicated full-time to simply processing visas.
Neglected and forlorn, the Canadian consular
presence in Ukraine was not much of a priority,
highlighted by the pitiable image of Canada’s
designated representative operating out of a hotel
suite.
From a Ukrainian-Canadian perspective, it was
inconceivable that Canada would drag its feet on
the opportunity that was Ukraine. Other
countries, by comparison, were quick to respond
to unfolding developments. Germany had
organized a massive consular staff of forty. France
had a fully functioning consulate in eight months
and made significant inroads toward
strengthening its relationship with Ukraine by
providing substantial technical-administrative
assistance and creating a language-cultural
institute as an auxiliary to France’s diplomatic
presence in Ukraine. Meanwhile, the Hungarians
signalled their intention to elevate the status of
their consul general to a fully ledged ambassador
upon immediate recognition. For Canada,
according to some, the question was of no less
relevance. How was it, then, that Canada showed
such indifference to positioning itself as a partner
with all the advantages that a closer relationship
would bring? Moreover, given the unabashed
enthusiasm of the people of Ukraine for Canada,
why would it not reciprocate by acknowledging
the historical connection between both countries?
And then there was simply the practical matter of
serving Canadians. With so many Canadians
travelling to Ukraine, doing business there, and
working and engaging in humanitarian relief in
the country, why was the diplomatic presence so
woefully inadequate and weak?
Some attributed the incongruity between
promise and reality to petulance within the
Department of External Affairs and the strong
undercurrent of resentment directed at the
Ukrainian-Canadian community. “Instead of
viewing Ukrainian-Canadians as a useful bridge
between our country and a vital emerging state in
the new post-Cold War Europe,” wrote Chrystia
Freeland, a stringer for the Financial Times,
“Canadian government officials seem to feel that
formal ties with Ukraine are a concession to a
political pressure group.”13 As Freeland
maintained, the bureaucracy did all it could to
ensure the consulate would not function properly,
even attempting to reverse the decision to have a
representative in Kyiv. Other observers cited the
lingering problem of Quebec and a “mania” for
preserving the status quo as reasons behind the
apathy.14 As for those who had historical
knowledge of Canada’s foreign policy
establishment and their views on Ukrainian self-
determination, they wondered aloud whether this
was simply part of the long record of official
indifference about Ukraine.15
Of bureaucratic resistance there could be no
doubt. Indeed, when in response to a press
question at Kennebunkport in August 1991, Prime
Minister Mulroney extemporaneously declared
that Canada would respect the freely expressed
wishes of the people of Ukraine, an external
affairs spokesperson was quick to qualify the
prime minister’s impromptu remarks, noting that
Canada would not be encouraging the Soviet
republics to leave.16 The spokesperson’s
statement, revealing in nature, suggested, at a
policy level at least, that Canada would not be
rushed.
The future course of Canadian policy needed to
be calibrated to meet events as they unfolded. In
preparation, a meeting with Ukraine’s provisional
leaders was considered useful in order to solicit
their views and to convey Canadian concerns.
Consequently, an invitation was sent to Leonid
Kravchuk, chairman of the Ukrainian parliament
and senior Politburo member of the Communist
Party of Ukraine, for a round of discussions in
Canada. In addition, as a preliminary to those
discussions, Minister McDougall was dispatched
to Kyiv not only to open the long awaited
consulate but also to assess the situation and
ascertain the intentions of Ukraine’s leadership.
McDougall’s visit to Kyiv in early September
1991 proved to be something of a muddle. The
politically ambiguous nature of the Canadian
position – favouring Ukrainian independence but
leaning toward moderation and caution –
surfaced awkwardly in the comments of the
foreign minister. After being publicly pressured
by Kravchuk for a statement on formal
recognition (especially after the prime minister’s
extemporary remarks at Kennebunkport),
McDougall relayed that any talk of recognition at
this point was “premature” since Canada wished
to see beforehand what kind of “affiliation”
Ukraine would have with the other Soviet
republics and Moscow.17 Interpreted as a reversal
in the government’s position, the comment led
some to wonder whether the minister, newly
appointed to the portfolio, was up to the job.
More fundamentally, others began to question
whether Canadian foreign policy was simply
adrift.18
Canadian foreign policy had the appearance of
being adrift because the stakes were high.
Statements emanating from Kyiv about Ukrainian
military formations being drawn from Soviet
personnel based on its territory were especially
troubling given Moscow’s stated opposition to the
plan. Expectations for Ukraine needed to be
discussed, and soon. The occasion for frank
discussion was the meeting scheduled in late
September between Leonid Kravchuk, Ukraine’s
parliamentary chairman, and Brian Mulroney
after Kravchuk quickly accepted the prime
minister’s invitation to visit Canada for talks.
For Kravchuk, recently resigned from the
Politburo of the Ukrainian Communist Party and
now a rehabilitated nationalist, the meeting was a
chance opportunity. From the chairman’s
perspective, the point of the 22 September
meeting was to gain Canada’s confidence and
possible recognition. Securing Ukraine’s status as
an independent state was an important objective,
since it was seen as a clean and effective way to
address the country’s risky position in the Soviet
unravelling. In this regard, the Canadian prime
minister’s initial Kennebunkport remarks and
Canada’s recent recognition of Baltic sovereignty
were encouraging.
The Mulroney government’s objective, on the
other hand, was simply to gauge the intentions of
the Ukrainian leadership and to prevail upon
Leonid Kravchuk the importance of a plebiscite,
while seeking assurances on human rights and
nuclear weapons.19 To the degree that there was a
meeting of minds, Kravchuk gained a greater
appreciation of the political stock the Mulroney
government attached to a referendum. It led him
to consider the possibility of moving the date of
the plebiscite up from 1 December to 15 October,
an idea that was eventually scotched because of
its impracticality. The Mulroney government, in
the meantime, secured in principle the pledge it
sought: Kravchuk declaring that an independent
Ukraine would honour its international
obligations and commitments.20
In the lead-up to the referendum, Canadian
concerns became manifest as the gravity of the
decision regarding recognition weighed on the
prime minister and officials. Consequently, a
series of additional conditions were laid out,
including Ukraine’s formal agreement to arms
control treaties. The Mulroney government’s
cautionary approach gave the appearance of
further backtracking. In light of reassuring
statements emanating from both Kyiv and
Moscow regarding successful bilateral
negotiations and an agreement in principle, the
Mulroney government’s conditions elicited a
reaction from the opposition ranks. Lloyd
Axworthy, the Liberal foreign affairs critic,
queried about the delay: “What was the hold-
up?”21 It was a rhetorical question that unmasked
the Mulroney government’s deep reservations
about the future. A matter of such vital
importance to international security as nuclear
weapons could not be left to chance. For the
Mulroney government, Ukraine had to sign on to
international agreements, and these still needed
to be negotiated to the satisfaction of all the
relevant parties, including the Western alliance.
From the government’s perspective, it was
evident that the outcome of the referendum
would not be the only factor determining
Ukraine’s future.22 The people of Ukraine could
vote, but de jure recognition would depend on
what Ukraine would do to win the confidence of
the international community.
On 1 December, Ukrainians participating in the
plebiscite overwhelmingly voted for independence
(91 per cent), with majorities recorded across all
regions of the country. The following day, in a
surprising move, Canada recognized the vote as
legitimate, and in the process Ukraine’s
independence – the second country to do so, only
after Poland. It was a remarkable development,
underscoring the importance of Canada’s
relationship with Ukraine. Yet, despite the move,
Ottawa’s original concerns remained; certain
conditions still had to be met. On the day that
Canada recognized the results of the vote, the
government simultaneously announced it
reserved the right to extend full diplomatic status
to Ukraine. Axworthy would again rise in the
House of Commons, asking, in light of the delay,
what Canada was looking for before approving
diplomatic relations? The prime minister replied
that it was not unusual for states to negotiate
before full relations were established, especially
given the circumstances. “Overnight a country has
become a nuclear power with nuclear weapons on
its territory,” Mulroney declared. “Obviously, in
the interests of effective bilateral relationships
and in the interests of security, we are going to
want to assure ourselves of the security of those
weapons.”23 For the Mulroney government, the
future of the relationship would remain open
ended until the matter was resolved to Canada’s
satisfaction.
The long-received narrative that Canada’s
support for Ukraine was unassailable understates
the difficulties and uncertainty associated with
the original decision to recognize the results of
the Ukrainian referendum. Nevertheless, a
decision was taken to recognize Ukraine’s
independence. And though full diplomatic
relations were not entered into immediately, that
Canada recognized the de facto independence of
Ukraine was an extraordinary and singular
development.24 On this score, Canada not only
broke ranks with its allies but also with its own
long-standing position not to endorse
independence movements elsewhere for fear of
the reverberations back home. How to account for
this?
Mulroney would explain years later to an
audience honouring his decision that in August
1991 he resisted the entreaties of presidents Bush
and Gorbachev to disavow any unilateral action
on the issue of Ukrainian independence. He
communicated his reasoning to the gathering:
“We knew back in 1989 that freedom was on the
march in Ukraine.”25 Couched in the language of
triumphant liberalism, Mulroney conveyed to the
audience that it was his belief that change,
inexorable and inescapable, could not be ignored.
His comments, however, also spoke to the
broader political context
1 Negotiating in which
Ukrainian the decision
Independence