Andréi Kurkov, a writer born in Saint Petersburg, is widely regarded as one of the most translated living authors from Ukraine. The 61-year-old has seen his fiction gain even greater international attention after the Russian invasion of 2022, and in recent years he has added a prolific output of essays and memoirs. Yet in his homeland, fame is not a shield against controversy or even hate campaigns. He attributes that to his rebellious temperament and his reluctance to accept a single, dominant narrative. On the occasion of ten years since the start of the Russia–Ukraine conflict, he speaks in a candid interview about the aggression against Ukraine and, at the same time, about what he perceives as the flaws within his own country.
A decade ago, in another interview, he warned of the risk of civil conflict fueled by Russia. The current reality has unfolded as a conventional war with thousands of lives lost. What, in his view, was the tipping point that marked this tragic rupture between Russia and Ukraine?
The turning point, he argues, was precisely the 100 deaths in violent clashes with police under the orders of the president at the time, during the Maidan protests, followed by Crimea’s annexation and the war in Donbas.
Do you think the violent outcome could have been avoided?
No, he believes not. He even speculates that Vladimir Putin may have planned to annex Crimea twenty years earlier. Putin never accepted Ukraine’s independence. The question then was when such a moment would occur, because even in 2014 Ukraine already seemed distant from Russian society.
What remains of Maidán today?
The public understands that Maidán and the present war are connected. Ukraine fights to remain separate from Russia. For that reason, no one regrets Maidán. Maidán felt inevitable, and perhaps this war was as well.
There was talk that after Maidán Ukrainian culture and literature became too politicized. He explains that during the Soviet era Ukrainian literature carried deep political weight, while after 1991 independence made it seem apolitical. Writers believed freedom meant a break from ideology, so they stopped addressing social and political topics. But that changed starting in 2004 with the Orange Revolution, when society and culture became politicized. Since 2014, literature has taken a militant turn, with some writers choosing to advocate for particular causes and to align with the war. Some engage in propaganda as they feel part of the conflict, especially when Russia fills shelves with anti-Ukrainian non-fiction and novels.
This is a reaction to the conflict, he acknowledges. Yet no government or president has asked such writers to act this way. They have chosen this path themselves and have used literature as a tool in the political struggle. He does not see it as useful or effective, and he expects its prominence to fade soon. He notes that propaganda in Ukrainian literature is a wartime phenomenon with ardent readers who seek to bolster anti-Russian sentiment.
Could this also be a matter of Ukraine continuing to explore and define its identity?
No, he says. The Ukrainian identity is clear. For Russians, liberty matters less than stability; for Ukrainians, the opposite is true. The fundamental difference lies in political vision, which also shapes personal identity, even for those who grew up in Russian-speaking families.
There are those who have turned away from Russian amid animosity toward Putin. Why does Ukraine seem to be surrendering this linguistic heritage?
Russians use language as a weapon. In the occupied regions of Zaporizhzhia and Kherson, Ukrainian is banned in schools and bookstores. Nevertheless, there are people in Odesa, Kharkiv, and even Kyiv who still speak Russian. In Poland, the presence of refugees is influenced by fears about how they might be perceived.
Does the Russian cultural sphere survive in Ukraine?
No. The language may endure among older generations, but its use will decline. Before the war, about half the country spoke Russian, particularly those affected by the devastation in places like Mariupol and Sumy. In the future, only the elderly are likely to continue using it.
Will you continue writing in Russian?
When he returns to writing novels, yes. But his diaries and non-fiction works will be written in Ukrainian. Most of his books available in Ukraine are in Ukrainian because local retailers prefer not to stock works in Russian.
Is that acceptable?
He accepts it. He acknowledges that some colleagues, especially poets writing in Russian, are unhappy. Yet they also understand that this is another consequence of the war. There is even a Russian-language television channel receiving government funding.
What is his view on removing Ukrainian street statues of Russian poets such as Alexander Pushkin or Leo Tolstoy?
He agrees with the removals. He has nothing against Pushkin or Tolstoy, but he notes that Russia has weaponized culture to serve its aims and has used it as a badge imposed by force. Perhaps in two centuries a new Pushkin statue could be unveiled in Odesa if Russia were to change.
Two centuries from now, he considers Ukraine unlikely to reconcile with Russia for at least two or three generations. The younger generation has lived only through years of war, with cemeteries full and millions of Ukrainian refugees. How could it be otherwise?
Does he maintain any contact with colleagues in Russia?
Not much. A couple of exchanges occur, almost nothing. They say they oppose Putin, and he responds that he appreciates them, but that is about it.
What is his take on the Russian intellectual class?
The Russians allowed their country to be handed to Putin for money. Over time, Putin has stripped away freedom. Protests were banned, political meetings curtailed, and now there is little left. The middle class has vanished. Those who wanted to stay free left Russia, while those without means have learned to accept their powerlessness. Frankly, it is hard to even call them intellectuals.
Does he feel free in Ukraine?
Yes. Even amid online attacks and waves of hatred, he feels free. He continues to write what he wants.
Why do these attacks occur?
In September, he faced a public cancellation after agreeing to participate in a panel with a Russian-American journalist. The Ukrainian media reacted strongly, portraying him beside famous Russian authors and accusing him of supporting Putin. It bothered him, but he stayed firm. He lives in a traumatized Ukraine with a population that has radicalized in places. People sometimes look for enemies at home as well as abroad. Ukraine has always been an individualist country where dissent is common.