No room for gloom: why Ukrainian military cemeteries need elevation

Ukrainian article of the week published in the 50th edition of the "What about Ukraine" newsletter on October 17th, 2024. The article was written by Viktoria Kolomiets for Hromadske and was translated for n-ost by Tetiana Evloeva.

Life-size monuments or uniform tombstones? Many families of the fallen heroes find themselves in turmoil over their choice of grave design at military cemeteries. This is because Ukraine still lacks standards for the final resting places of soldiers killed in action.

Influenced by the Soviet legacy, tombstones in military cemeteries are often chaotic and made of dark-coloured material. The only indication that the graves belong to those who have served are national flags installed next to the memorials. On the other hand, western and central European cemeteries are different, with similar-designed tombstones representing the uniforms the military personnel wore while on the service, to show they were equal in life, and equal in death. Here we discuss everything that’s wrong with Ukrainian military cemeteries, why the issue hasn’t been really raised until now, and whether there will be unified standards in the future.

From tradition to Soviet trends

Most military cemeteries appear dark and gloomy. Even though tombstones in the military sectors differ by shape and colour, the overall air is tragic.

“In most cases, you can tell a military cemetery from a regular resting place only by the national flags installed at each grave, because that polished granite which is commonplace is simply a tribute to the trend that’s been dominating the burial business over the past 40 years,” says Roman Malenkov, a Ukrainian historian.

Malenkov’s sphere is researching Cossack cemeteries. He points out that in earlier times, granite wasn’t typically used as a material for tombstones because it was sturdy, but hard to manipulate. The surface of raw granite doesn’t withstand weather, and as time passes, the engravings become illegible. To extend their life, a mason must polish the stone, which, according to Malenkov, kills the aesthetic of the stone.

Today, granite is one of the most common materials used for tombstones, including those in military cemeteries. The historian believes this is due to the fact that the owners of granite processing businesses monopolise the memorial market. Therefore, tombstones made of sandstone and limestone, which belong to the Ukrainian tradition, have become a rare sight today.

“[Gravestones for the military] are not mere tombstones, these are supposed to be works of art commemorating the fallen,” says Malenkov. “But most communities don’t think of this [aesthetic]. They just treat the tombstone like it’s a regular cemetery, with the addition of national flags marking the graves.”

In the cemeteries of WWI which survive, the style follows the European tradition of uniform, ascetic and modest crosses or tombstones, giving the cemetery a clear structure and consistent appearance. After the Soviets came to power, the cemeteries gained a more haphazard and depressed look — and this is how we keep burying our dead to this day.

“As to the present, unfortunately, it’s a bit chaotic,” notes architect and urban planner Ivan Shchurko. “On the one hand, this chaos is caused by the total lack of proper regulations from the State. On the other hand, a lot of people are being killed, so the number of burials skyrocketed. On this scale, it’s really difficult to control the process.”

Gold standard: a demure look

Shchurko believes that a fallen hero’s grave has to be a visual and ideological continuation of their military service. Therefore, the shape and overall look of the tombstone as a means of telling the tale of someone killed in action is of utmost importance.

“Unfortunately, today in some villages and small towns we see what can be described as ‘kitschy’ [military cemeteries], with excessive colours and shapes,” says Shchurko “Together those graves make up a chaotic combination. The army represents clarity and structure, logic and asceticism. Therefore, military cemeteries should also be devoid of superfluous elements.”

Experts mention the Pantheon of Heroes in Ternopil as one of the best examples of modern military burials in Ukraine.

When speaking to Hromadske reporters, Dartsia Veretiuk, who drew up this plan for Ternopil, explained how she studied international practices and pre-Soviet Ukrainian burials for this project. That research helped her design a cemetery where ‘one doesn’t feel that urgent need to flee’.

“All those dark granite tombstones and that sorrowful gloom make you want to prostrate in grief as soon as you set foot in the cemetery,” says Veretiuk. “Judging from what I’ve seen so far, this hopelessness is typical for the post-Soviet countries. The rest of the world uses light-coloured materials because they are supposed to elevate visitors in appreciation, not prostrate them in sorrow.”

As of today, Ternopil’s Pantheon of Heroes has become the final resting place for over 200 Ukrainian military personnel. There, the tombstones are made of light sandstone. The cemetery has a demure look, devoid of superfluous elements, and the graves are uniform in style. For reference, Veretiuk took inspiration from the shape of the Memorial to the Warriors of the Legion of Ukrainian Sich Riflemen, erected on Mount Makivka in southwest Ukraine after WWI (where the Ukrainian Legion went into action in May 1915).

“Sadly, good examples are few and far between,” adds Shchurko. “Here and there, one can see careful attempts to fix the situation, with the local governments announcing tenders for streamlining the military sectors of their local cemeteries, and some proposals are really good. Of course, that action is fragmented and far from comprehensive, but still, there are some solutions out there that are quite good.”

‘Anything goes’ memorials

To this day, Ukraine lacks legislation governing the development of memorial cemeteries, so the only advice the local communities can rely on when commissioning military cemeteries is the set of guidelines laid out by the Ukrainian Institute of National Remembrance after Russia first invaded Ukraine in 2014.

Those guidelines fail to cover the external appearance of the tombstone — it just stipulates that the military sector should be separate from the rest of the cemetery with pavement or greenery and that enough space should be left among the graves for building a general memorial to the fallen heroes, complete with a flagpole for flying the national flag. Also, the military sector should be clearly marked on the map of the cemetery placed near the entrance.

“I’ve seen those guidelines, and sadly, my judgement is that those guidelines were shoddy,” says Shchurko. “However, I welcomed having guidelines in place, it was quite an improvement. Those guidelines were the first important step towards regulations in this sphere, and it’s nice that it was the Ukrainian Institute of National Remembrance that took this initial step. Obviously, these guidelines can be improved, in fact, they need improving.”

Recently, the Ukrainian Institute of National Remembrance presented a study on this issue. One of its findings detailed how a majority of experts don’t feel like the State has any comprehensive policies to commemorate this war.

“This is a clear signal to us as a Government Agency,” says Anton Drobovych, head of the institute, commenting on those expert findings. He mentions that over this year, the Ukrainian Institute of National Remembrance held several panel discussions with the relevant committee of the Parliament and that the officers managed to develop elements and basics for future national policies regarding commemoration.

Initially, it was the construction of the National Military Memorial Cemetery that opened the discussion on the appearance of a military cemetery. After this project was launched, experts began discussions on how this matter should be regulated. Today, experts argue over the format of tombstones and the overall layout of military cemeteries.

“Military necropolises could become important historical landmarks in Ukraine, and not just burial sites that only families and friends of the fallen care about,” says Darka Hirna, journalist, documentary film-maker and head of the Liberation Movement Research Centre. “If we fail to create such memorials, the subject of this war will only remain within the social bubbles of veterans and relatives of the fallen heroes.”

Unification vs. creative freedom

According to the research doc by the Ukrainian Institute of National Remembrance, despite the lack of comprehensive solutions, Ukraine also experiences conflicts between a national standard and the so-called ‘people’s commemoration’.

On the one hand, Anton Drobovych points out a great demand for a comprehensive state policy “telling us what to do and offering guidelines”. On the other hand, there’s a demand for individualism and that “the State knew its place and stayed out of it”.

One example of the latter is a lawsuit brought by the Stadnyk family who refuse to put a uniform tombstone provided for by the Pantheon of Heroes Project on the grave of their loved one. The family wants to give their son a life-size bronze monument against a backdrop of black granite. It’s been over a year since the court hearings began.

The authorities are trying to figure out whether the tombstones must be uniform, and what their general design should be. According to Nataliia Voitseshchuk, director of the Department of Cultural Heritage, the Ministry of Culture is working on a Draft Law to define commemoration sites. The State wants to distinguish that status so that the local governments can be guided by the legal norms when planning the development of their military cemeteries.

“The war continues, so such sites will be plentiful,” says Voitseshchuk. “When the war is over, we’ll find many [military burials] where the frontline lies today, where there are active hostilities and destroyed settlements. We need to think long and hard about how to commemorate those sites.”

Architect Ivan Shchurko believes that Ukraine should take a page from western and central Europe’s book, where the tradition of military necropolitics is well established. The external appearance of the tombstones, however, can be borrowed from Ukraine’s past.

Shchurko points out that as of today, there are no comprehensive studies on the Ukrainian traditions of military necropolitics, despite its existence. We should study the surviving monuments, as well as historical photographs, and rely on these findings when designing the present-day military burial sites.

“There must be mandatory regulations for specific elements,” says Shchurko. “It would be inappropriate to stipulate the nationwide uniform shape of the cross, given the regional differences in Ukraine… however, there are things like flagpoles and flags that have to be regulated, because now, it all looks very chaotic… We need clear regulations for commemoration ceremonies, too.”

For the historian Roman Malenkov, certain norms need to be in place, however, they should account for regional aspects, so that total uniformity doesn’t destroy creative expression, turning the memorial cemeteries into something mundane.

“The tombstones should be shaped after the traditional Cossack ones so that it’s clear that this is a military cemetery,” he says. “The size of the tombstones, in my opinion, also needs standardisation. The rest can be different.”

It is yet to be seen how the officials choose to formulate the new legislation. Nataliia Voitseshchuk assumes that they will only stipulate general criteria, leaving the decision-making on the specifics of the military cemeteries in the region to the local governments.