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Ουκρανία , Ρωσία 3 Ιουνίου 2019

European Council On Foreign Relations: Πώς το ουκρανικό ορθόδοξο “σχίσμα” απειλεί τη Ρωσία

European Council On Foreign Relations: Πώς το ουκρανικό ορθόδοξο “σχίσμα” απειλεί τη Ρωσία

Η Ορθόδοξη Εκκλησία στην Ουκρανία φέτος έγινε “αυτοκέφαλη” που σημαίνει ότι πλέον δεν λογοδοτεί στην Εκκλησία του Πατριαρχείου Μόσχας.





 Η αυτοκεφαλία είναι τεράστιας συμβολικής σημασίας. Για την Ουκρανία, ως μια ένδειξη πολιτικής ανεξαρτησίας, και για τη Ρωσία, ως μια ένδειξη πολιτικής απώλειας.


 Το Κρεμλίνο και η Ορθόδοξη Εκκλησία της Ρωσίας απολαμβάνουν μια στενή σχέση, αλλά και οι δύο αφιερώνουν χρόνο για να δουν τι θα κάνουν στη συνέχεια.


 Η αβέβαιη πορεία των γεγονότων σημαίνει ότι τα ζητήματα που προκύπτουν από την αυτοκεφαλία, ίσως να μην διευθετηθούν για πολλά χρόνια.


 Η εσωτερική ενοποίηση και η διεθνής αναγνώριση της νέας εκκλησίας δεν θα είναι εύκολη ή γρήγορη, αλλά αυτό είναι μη αναστρέψιμο -η Μόσχα δεν είναι σε θέση να την ανατρέψει.


Των Kadri Liik, Momchil Metodiev, Nicu Popescu


INTRODUCTION
An
average Westerner may well have overlooked the potentially seismic
geopolitical event of 6 January 2019. On that snowy Sunday –
Epiphany in western Christianity; Christmas Eve in Ukraine – the
39-year-old Metropolitan of Kyiv, Epiphanius, received tomos from the
Constantinople Patriarchate. This document bestowed autocephalous
(self-governing) status on what was now the newly formed Orthodox
Church of Ukraine.
The
event was historic not just for Ukraine, but for Russia and the whole
Orthodox world too. For Ukrainians, autocephaly was a sign of their
country moving towards greater independence from Russia, now in
matters clerical as well as earthly. For a country still stuck in a
slow-moving war with Russia, this was no small matter.
Nor was
it a small matter for Russia. Just under one-third of the Russian
Orthodox Church’s 36,000 parishes are to be found in Ukraine, and
their status is now in question. The Russian Orthodox Church is set
to lose territory, believers, and a huge amount of symbolic power.
And it has not taken it well: “it is impossible for us to separate
Kiev from our country, as this is where our history began. The
Russian Orthodox Church preserves the national consciousness of both
Russians and Ukrainians”, said Kirill (Gundyaev), Patriarch of
Moscow and all Rus’. Vladimir Putin echoed this, arguing that
autocephaly’s main objective is to “divide the people of Russia
and Ukraine, to sow national and religious divisions”.
What
will the impact be of these events on Russia’s influence in the
Orthodox world – and beyond, including the West – given the
Russian Orthodox Church’s ostensible role as an important soft
power arm of Russian foreign policy? And how might the church
conflict play out in Russian-Ukrainian relations – especially now
that Ukraine has a new president?
To
answer these questions, the European Council on Foreign Relations
conducted a series of interviews in Kyiv, Istanbul, and Moscow with
key protagonists in the recent autocephaly drama and with observers
of Orthodox church affairs. The All-Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew
of Constantinople; Honorary Patriarch Filaret of­ the new
Orthodox Church of Ukraine; senior representatives of the Russian
Orthodox Church; and multiple experts have shared their on-the-ground
insights into this historic event.
MOSCOW
AND THE ORTHODOX CHURCH
The
Russian state and Russian church have long been close: in 1722 Peter
the Great abolished the position of the Russian patriarch and
appointed an “ober-prokurator”, a government official to
supervise the Church Synod, which led to the Synodal rule that
survived until the Russian revolution. Even in Soviet times, when the
authorities persecuted the church, they also made use of it: during
the second world war, for instance, Josef Stalin ordered Orthodox
priests to bless defence lines around the capital. After the war, the
church was believed to be heavily infiltrated by the KGB and to act
in the state’s interests, especially from the 1960s onwards. A
special parliamentary commission created in the early 1990s
vindicated this belief.
In the
current era, a prominent symbiosis between the Kremlin and the
Orthodox Church emerged after 2012, when Putin returned to the
Kremlin amid protests by the liberal urban intelligentsia. The
Russian government began to portray itself as a defender of
conservative values – including religion – from the onslaught of
what it called ‘decadent Western liberalism’. This fitted well
with the conservative and anti-Western views held by Patriarch
Kirill. During the protests, Kirill stepped in to declare the arrival
of Putin to the presidency a “miracle from God”. Other occasions
have seen the church lend its backing to the regime, even in deeply
unspiritual matters: Orthodox priests have blessed missiles destined
for Syria, as well as Crimea. And, in December 2018, the patriarch
himself participated in the ‘collegium’ – something of an
advisory board – of the Russian Ministry of Defence; not your usual
meeting for a religious leader.
One
core political message of the Russian church under Kirill –
convenient for the Kremlin in its anti-Western shift – has been
that the European Union is imposing secular values on Russia, making
it comparable to the atheist communist state. Rejection of Christian
spiritual heritage will lead to the failure of European civilisation
– so the argument runs. For instance, Metropolitan of Volokolamsk
Hilarion (Alfeyev) – who is also chair of the department for
external relations of the Russian church, something of a foreign
affairs minister for the church – regularly issues pronouncements
along the following lines: “The militant secularism that is rapidly
gaining momentum in today’s Europe is also a pseudo-religion.
Modern militant secularism, like Russian communism, is seen as a
worldview that came to replace the Christian view of the world.”
This view has implications especially for other Orthodox countries
that either are or aspire to be members of the EU: from Bulgaria and
Serbia to Moldova, Ukraine, and Georgia. In these places, the church
lobbied hard against the adoption of anti-discrimination legislation,
which was a precondition for qualifying for visa-free travel to the
EU. These countries’ governments overcame this opposition, but it
came at domestic political cost.
However,
on closer examination, it is evident that the Kremlin and the church
each had their own reasons for their conservative positioning. For
the Kremlin, this was first and foremost an opportunistic political
move: an attempt to marginalise the hostile liberal constituency at
home, to build up defences against a West increasingly critical of
Russia, and to erode Western unity by reaching out to anti-liberal
fringe groups there. The conservative image that it chose to present
to the world was not fully rooted in popular values: while
homosexuality is indeed still somewhat stigmatised in Russia, in many
other respects Russia is not a particularly conservative country, nor
a very religious one. Just 5-7 percent of its population go to church
regularly, and sociologists argue that religion plays hardly any role
in Russians’ worldview.1 Indeed, in recent years, the government’s
conservative thrust has slowed and even retreated. “It was [former
head of the Kremlin administration Vyacheslav] Volodin who tried to
market conservatism; from [current head Sergey] Kirienko we hear
nothing about it”, comments one Kremlin-linked analyst.2
Why are
Orthodox churches important?
Orthodox
Christianity is often portrayed as a highly conservative denomination
that refuses to conform to new realities. It is precisely this,
however, that has led to the church becoming a pole for current
conservative “identity politics”. Indeed, societies in
predominantly Orthodox countries are very secularised in their
attitudes towards morality; generally, the lifestyles there are far
removed from Christian doctrine. Polls show that church attendance
among the Orthodox population is much lower than among Catholics.
According to a Pew survey conducted in 2017, church attendance in
Orthodox countries in central and eastern Europe averages 10 percent:
it stands at 21 percent Romania;17 percent in Georgia; 12 percent in
Ukraine; 6 percent in Serbia; 6 percent in Russia; and 5 percent in
Bulgaria. In Catholic-majority countries in the same region,
attendance reaches 25 percent; it is 45 percent in Poland and 43
percent in Ukraine.
Nevertheless,
in predominantly Orthodox societies, the church is traditionally
regarded as the bearer of national identity and a guardian of
national consciousness to an even greater extent than the state. The
same Pew survey reveals a strong association between religion and
national identity – the idea that being Orthodox or Catholic is
important to one’s national identity is supported by 70 percent of
people in Orthodox-majority countries and 57 percent in
Catholic-majority countries (78 percent in Serbia; 76 percent in
Greece; 74 percent in Romania; 66 percent in Bulgaria; and 57 percent
in Russia – compared with 64 percent in Poland and 58 percent in
Croatia).
Pew
concludes that many central and eastern Europeans might be described
as “believing and belonging, without behaving”. Although people
do not go to church regularly, and religion does not affect their
moral choices, they nevertheless feel part of a community whose
identity they strongly associate with the church. All the data
indicate the important role that Orthodox churches’ conservative
positions play in modern identity politics. This overlapping of
church and nation means that the church retains soft power. But it
also explains the importance of the establishment of the Orthodox
Church of Ukraine, as a function of “becoming” a nation-state.
If the
Kremlin’s anti-Westernism is driven primarily by geopolitical
disagreements with the West, then, for the current church
establishment, anti-Western conservatism is a deeper and more
genuinely values-led conviction. Many church observers attribute this
to Kirill and his leadership. That said, Kirill does not enjoy
universal acclaim either among Moscow elites or the wider public. If
his predecessor, Alexy II, was a figure of some autonomous gravity
and religious authority, then Kirill is often referred to as “the
first Soviet Patriarch”, which includes a reference not only to his
year of birth – 1946 – but also his character and behaviour. His
lavish lifestyle is subject to frequent criticism on the Russian
internet, and comes across in interviews: “When Pope Francis turned
70, he invited beggars to dine with him in the Vatican canteen”,
says one figure close to the church establishment.3 “And then you
look at the lavish celebrations when Kirill turned 70.”
It is
notable too that, while Putin lets it be known that he is religious –
he has used the tale of his secret baptism to charm Western leaders,
such as George W Bush – in religious matters, he keeps his distance
from Kirill.[4] Putin is known to spend time in remote monasteries in
northern Russia, or in the company of Tikhon (Shevkunov), currently
Metropolitan of Pskov and Porkhov, and until 2018 superior of the
Sretensky Monastery in Moscow. Many observers consider this
monk-writer-filmmaker to be one of the smartest people among the
current Orthodox establishment in Russia, and believe him to be close
to the president.5 “Putin is truly religious”, says a Kremlin
insider, who also confirms the president’s ties to Tikhon.6 But
being religious does not mean Putin views Kirill as a religious
guide: “Patriarch Kirill – he is like a government minister for
Putin”, says Russian analyst Aleksei Makarkin, implying that the
president regards the patriarch a political official more than as a
religious authority.7 “Putin certainly does not confess to Kirill –
then he could as well confess to [prime minister Dmitry] Medvedev or
[former first deputy prime minister Igor] Shuvalov!”
Into
Ukraine: Dilemmas for the Russian Orthodox Church
The
Kremlin’s relationship with the church is not as direct as that
with, for example, a government ministry. Although it operates on a
largely cooperative basis, the church is not a mere tool of state
policy. Like all institutions, the church also has its own interests,
agenda, traditions, and sensitivities that it wants to protect. These
do not always coincide with those of the state. “While everyone
outside thinks that the church just serves the state, the church
itself sees exactly the opposite: the state puts pressure on them,
but they push back”, says one church insider in Moscow.8
Illustrative of this is the church’s position on Abkhazia and South
Ossetia: while Russia recognised these as independent states in 2008,
the church has – allegedly in defiance of the Kremlin, insiders
maintain – stuck to its old position that holds both to be the
canonical territory of the Georgian patriarch.
When it
came to the escalation of hostilities in Ukraine from 2014 onwards,
if the Russian president indeed viewed Kirill as a mere underling,
then he may have expected full-throated support in matters as
important as the war in Ukraine. In fact, Kirill made some attempts
at superficial neutrality. But his efforts may have landed him in the
worst of both worlds: he offered neither the Kremlin nor Ukrainian
believers the sort of support they expected. As a result, he lost the
trust and goodwill of both.
Kirill’s
most prominent attempt at nominal neutrality took place on 18 March
2014. On that day, Moscow was in a celebratory mood: gathered in the
Kremlin, Putin and three Crimean politicians signed the treaty on the
“accession of Crimea” to the Russian Federation. The crème de la
crème of the Russian political, military, and business worlds was
present. Yet Kirill was missing. Given that the patriarch is ready to
attend lesser meetings such as the defence ministry collegium, his
absence from the Crimea treaty signing pointed to a tricky balancing
act in which he attempted to account for both state geopolitical
interests and church interests. The Ukrainian Orthodox Church–Moscow
Patriarchate is the largest Orthodox church in Ukraine and is an
integral part of the Russian Orthodox Church. This made it far too
difficult for the Russian Orthodox Church itself to celebrate an
event that was certain to pitch Ukraine and Russia against each
other. The decision to stay away – and the reason for it – has
since been semi-publicly confirmed by the church itself: “The
Patriarch decided not attend the meeting on March 18, and the state
officials said: ‘point taken’”, one high-ranking church
official has commented.9
As the
war in Ukraine progressed throughout 2014, it became clear that the
Russian Orthodox Church would not be able to straddle a conflict that
pitted its followers in Ukraine against its followers in Russia. This
was revealed during the battle of Ilovaisk in August that year. This
was one of the bloodiest battles of the war in Donbas, during which
the Russian army appears to have intervened in Ukraine. But, instead
of calling for peace – which might have been a useful workaround
for him – Kirill issued a statement attacking Ukrainian “Uniates
and raskolniks” (schismatics) for engaging in conflict against his
flock. He made direct reference to Orthodox and Greek-Orthodox
Ukrainians who do not recognise the authority of the Moscow
Patriarchate.
Soon
afterwards, the Russian patriarch proceeded to publicly extol the
virtues of “Russkii mir” – “the Russian world”, a concept
that the Russian media and political class have made use of to
justify Russian political, military, and ecclesiastical activity in
Ukraine. He declared that: “Russia belongs to a civilisation that
is wider than the Russian Federation. We call this civilisation the
Russian world. This is not the world of the Russian Federation, nor
Russian empire. The Russian world starts at the Kievan baptismal
font. Russian, Ukrainians, Belarusians belong to it.” During a
crucial battle for Donetsk airport in late 2014, Kirill all but broke
with whatever ambiguity remained by decorating the heads of Russia’s
two leading state-owned television channels with church orders. The
official reason was for their services to church and state. But the
channels had been instrumental in broadcasting inflammatory
propaganda that fuelled the war in Ukraine. Kirill had clearly chosen
a side, even if he had initially intended to avoid doing so.
The
church’s position was not confined to the high rhetoric of the
patriarch, but was also reflected on the ground in eastern Ukraine.
There, some representatives of the Russian Orthodox Church in Ukraine
rose to prominence in supporting the insurgents. One local priest
from Sloviansk became notorious for his mix of religion, poetry, and
geopolitical activism. He wrote poems professing his “love for the
great Russian soldier, ready to die for his Motherland, and defend
her from monsters like NATO and other predatory terrorists!”
Another activist, a former sacristan of Kyiv Pechersk Lavra – the
Kyiv monastery of caves – organised the war’s first ambush of
Ukrainian intelligence operatives, in early April 2014. And, in one
episode in Kyiv-controlled eastern Ukraine, two priests belonging to
the Russian patriarchate refused to conduct services for a deceased
child who had not been baptised in a church recognised by Moscow.
While this was not necessarily the case in every location, in a
country at war, just a few such incidents polarised society even
further and massively undermined the standing of the Russian Orthodox
Church in Ukraine. Trust levels in Kirill fell across Ukraine, from
around 40 percent in 2013 to 15 percent in 2018. And, in the same
period, the number of Ukrainians who declared themselves members of
the Moscow Patriarchate church fell from 19 percent to 12 percent.
Those who claimed Kyivan Patriarchate membership rose from 18 percent
to 28 percent.
In sum:
once Russia began its war in Ukraine, the Russian Orthodox Church’s
long-established close cooperation with the Putin regime left it
exposed on difficult terrain. With a large proportion of its parishes
on Ukrainian territory and, despite the church’s previous history
of resisting some Kremlin demands, the Moscow Patriarchate would
almost certainly have found it difficult to set a different course. A
studied quietness might have been achievable. But not only was the
Russian Orthodox Church likely experiencing significant political
pressure in Moscow, its room for manoeuvre was further constrained
by: Ukraine’s highly diverse church landscape; the unusual
situation of an Orthodox country lacking its own church; and
already-worsening relations between the Russian Orthodox Church and
the Ecumenical Patriarchate in Istanbul. But, even so, the Russian
Orthodox Church’s next moves were a masterclass in tactical
missteps and strategic haziness.
AUTOCEPHALY
FOR UKRAINE: HOW IT HAPPENED
Church
fragmented
After
the collapse of the Soviet Union, the ecclesiastical landscape in
Ukraine became greatly diversified. Three different Orthodox churches
emerged – an unusual situation in the Orthodox world, where “one
country, one church” has become an accepted norm. In Soviet times,
Orthodox churches in Ukraine were simply part of the Russian Orthodox
Church. In 1990 the Moscow Patriarchate established the Ukrainian
Orthodox Church–Moscow Patriarchate by granting the Ukrainian
Exarchate the status of autonomous self-governing church under the
jurisdiction of the Russian Orthodox Church. This included the duty
to mention the Moscow Patriarch at each church service as the
recognised head of the church. The move did not give the new church
the right of independent foreign policy, which was still supposed to
coordinate its positions on different issues in the Orthodox world
with Moscow. The Ukrainian Orthodox Church–Moscow Patriarchate
claims to have more than 11,000 parishes on the territory of Ukraine.
Until recently, it was the only internationally recognised Orthodox
church on the territory of Ukraine.
In 1992
a new institution was established that became known as the Ukrainian
Orthodox Church–Kyivan Patriarchate, headed by Patriarch Filaret, a
former archbishop of the Russian Orthodox Church who had sought to
become the Moscow Patriarch in 1990, but lost to Alexy II. Moscow
immediately declared the new church schismatic, while other Orthodox
churches refused to recognise it. Nonetheless, having become the
second strongest church in Ukraine, it now claims 4,281 parishes.
The
third institution – the Ukrainian Autocephalous Orthodox Church,
which claims around 1,200 parishes – was effectively a church in
exile in Soviet times. It was created after the Russian revolution
and, in the following decades, was supported by Ukrainian emigrants
before being reinstated in Ukraine in 1990.
Finally,
Ukraine also has the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church, an eastern-rite
church. The largest Uniate church, it claims 3,828 parishes –
mainly in western Ukraine – and has more than four million
followers who practice the eastern rite but accept the primacy of the
Pope.
This
divided church landscape, though, came to contrast markedly with
Ukrainian public opinion. By late 2018, 54 percent of Ukrainians
supported the creation of a Ukrainian Orthodox Church independent
from Moscow. Only 19 percent opposed it.
Autocephaly
and Ukrainian unity: an inevitability?
Church
observers in Moscow admit that the situation in Ukraine was unusual,
and that steps should have been taken to regularise it – preferably
by the Moscow Patriarchate itself. One prominent Russian deacon and
church affairs commentator, Andrei Kuraev, has all but advocated such
an approach: “Moscow should have accepted that Ukrainian church
autocephaly was inevitable, and should have offered this autocephaly
to Kiev itself, rather than for wait for Constantinople to do that.
This would have ensured a strong spiritual relationship between the
Ukrainian and Russian church in the future”.10 But this view is
rare in Moscow: church leaders had long preferred to ignore the
problem. “Kirill inherited that situation with three churches, but
for ten years he did nothing – just pretended that we were united,
that the problem did not exist”, says Ksenia Luchenko, editor of
Orthodox website pravmir.ru.11
Against
this background of war and politics – and in the absence of any
leadership on this from the Russian patriarchate – the then
Ukrainian president Petro Poroshenko set about addressing the issue,
partly to benefit from it politically. In April 2018, he sent a
letter to the Ecumenical Patriarch in Constantinople requesting
autocephaly for Ukraine. Two of the existing church structures in
Ukraine – the Kyivan Patriarchate church and the Ukrainian
Autocephalous Orthodox Church – supported his request. And his
initiative bore fruit.
The
role of the Ecumenical (Constantinople) Patriarch
The
influence of the Ecumenical Patriarchate is primarily based on the
historical tradition that places Constantinople as the first among
equal Orthodox churches. This gives it the right to convoke
Pan-Orthodox Councils with the consent of other churches and to
preside over them. Secondly, the Ecumenical See has a wide network of
international contacts with all Christian churches. Most important
among these contacts are the traditionally good relations between
Constantinople and Rome that began after the 1960s.
Elected
in 1991, Patriarch Bartholomew is regarded as an ambitious leader who
wants to defend and even increase the status of the Ecumenical
Throne. He has built on the legacy of Athenagoras (patriarch from
1948 to 1972), promoting reconciliation and dialogue between the
Christian denominations. Bartholomew is known for his active position
on ecological issues; Pope Francis recognised his contribution in
this area in his encyclical “Laudato Si” in 2015.
The
weakness of the Ecumenical Patriarchate lies in the fact that it is
neither supported nor defended by a powerful state, as it is located
in Istanbul. But this is also a strength, since none of the other
Orthodox churches and countries suspect the Ecumenical Patriarchate
of facilitating intervention by other states – which makes it a
recognised arbiter of disputes between Orthodox churches. An
important symbolic strength of the Ecumenical Patriarchate also lies
in the fact that it controls the spiritual centre of Orthodoxy –
Mount Athos, in Greece. Although some of the monasteries in the
Monastic Republic of Mount Athos are traditionally connected with
other countries – such as Serbia, Bulgaria, and Russia – all of
them are within the jurisdiction of the Ecumenical Patriarch.
When
ECFR met the All-Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew of Constantinople,
he was explicit about the impact of Poroshenko’s démarche: “The
Ukrainian church asked for autocephaly seven times, and we did not
answer their petitions before. But this time we also received
petitions from the Ukrainian president and parliament. One could see
a united Ukrainian desire for autocephaly. I also received private
messages in favour of autocephaly from multiple bishops who are in
the Ukrainian church under the Moscow Patriarchate”.12 His
motivation was also religious. He wanted to bring millions of
Ukrainians who belonged to the uncanonical churches of Ukraine into
the fold of the canonical Church. The patriarch also said he felt it
was unfair for the 500,000 believers of the Polish Orthodox Church,
and the 100,000 Orthodox believers in the Czech Republic and
Slovakia, to have independent churches while 40 million Ukrainians
did not.
Moscow’s
missed chance
However,
this is not the full story. This ecclesiastical conflict has complex
roots, ranging from clerical matters to political and interpersonal
ones.
The
biggest impediment to Moscow exerting any significant influence over
the move to autocephaly was probably Kirill’s decision not to
attend the Pan-Orthodox Council in Crete in 2016. Planning for this
council began in the 1960s; for Constantinople, the presence of the
Moscow church mattered. The Russian church had insisted that each
document for the council should be approved unanimously by all
churches represented at the council. And the location of the council
was even moved from Istanbul to Crete in order to make things more
palatable to the Russian government, after Turkey had shot down a
Russian fighter jet in 2015.
Yet the
Moscow Patriarchate still eventually decided to boycott the council,
claiming that the gathering would be insufficiently representative:
the churches of Antioch (whose patriarch resides in Damascus),
Bulgaria, and Georgia announced their decision not to attend the
council before Moscow did, on the grounds that some of the documents
for the meeting would lead to a dangerous modernisation of church
doctrine (it is widely believed that three other churches consulted
on their decision with the Russian church, although there is little
hard proof of this). The Moscow Patriarchate appears to have made its
decision not to attend at the last minute; its true motivations for
doing so remain unclear. Several observers in Moscow told ECFR that
they believe it to have been made under the influence of secular
authorities rather than through purely clerical calculations.
Again,
geopolitics bled into inter-church politics: growing anti-Westernism
in Russia also increased the strain on relations between the Moscow
Patriarchate and the Ecumenical Patriarchate. The Moscow Patriarchate
had at times portrayed the Ecumenical Patriarchate as a “Western”
institution due to its vast international network and ecumenical
position with regard to other Christian denominations. “They
associate Bartholomew with the US – via the Greek diaspora in the
US”, says church expert Ksenia Luchenko.[13] Russian politicians’
persistent belief that the West instigated the Maidan protests in
Kyiv and other post-Soviet “colour” revolutions has likely only
reinforced this stance. Latterly, Putin has openly accused the United
States and Constantinople of working together to support the
Ukrainian government and the move towards church independence.
None of
this prevented the Moscow Patriarchate from trying to avert the
inevitable. In August 2018, Kirill went to see Bartholomew in Fener,
the formerly Greek neighbourhood of Istanbul, in a last-minute effort
to prevent him from granting autocephaly to Ukraine. Diplomatic
finesse left at home, it seemed more of an attempt to bulldoze
Constantinople into submission than a charm offensive. It proved
wholly counterproductive. Publicly available video shows Kirill’s
Russian bodyguards offering drinks, with the Russian patriarch
refusing to have anything that was offered to him by his hosts. The
hosts seem to have interpreted this as fear of being poisoned and
took offence.
At this
meeting, Kirill told Bartholomew: “Your All-Holiness, if you give
autocephaly to Ukraine, blood will be poured out.” To this, the
Ecumenical Patriarch replied: “Your Beatitude, we neither have an
army at our disposal nor any weapons. If blood is to be poured out,
it will not be spilled by us, but by you!”
At one
point during the meeting, Bartholomew turned to Hilarion to say: “You
stated that President Poroshenko has bribed the Ecumenical
Patriarchate. I ask you directly, can you prove this? If you can’t
prove it, you are doing the Mother Church an injustice and
consequently will be cursed by Her. Knowingly misleading others
through lying is unforgivable.” The Moscow Patriarch’s choice of
adopting the Kremlin-style rhetoric of great-power entitlement did
not help him on an issue where Russia was clearly a demandeur. The
Russian Orthodox Church may be able to provide ballast to the
Kremlin; but the inverse turned out not to be true – neither the
Kremlin nor Kremlin-style rhetoric helped the Moscow Patriarchate in
its dispute with Constantinople.
It
might not necessarily have been this way. In conversation with ECFR,
Bartholomew recalled his earlier contact with Kirill almost fondly –
the two have known each other for decades and engaged in close
discussions over Estonian church questions in the 1990s. Bartholomew
also spoke warmly of his visit to Moscow in 2010 and the tour of the
Kremlin that Medvedev and Kirill gave him. But previously warm
personal relations were not enough to offset the larger forces
driving a split. Relations had soured to such an extent that the
Moscow Patriarchate could find no way to halt what had become an
irreversible change.
There
is certainly a struggle between Constantinople and Moscow, but its
size should not be exaggerated. The Ecumenical Patriarchate has a lot
of soft power, but it has far less access to other levers of power
than the Moscow Patriarchate. The Russian Orthodox Church has
billions of dollars in revenues, employs thousands of people at home
and abroad, and commands an ability to access and rely on the global
network of Russian diplomatic and media presence, from RT to dozens
of religious websites in multiple languages. None of these is
available to Constantinople.
The
meaning of autocephaly
Then
came the day when the stars had aligned for the autocephaly of the
Ukrainian church: Ukraine had requested it; “one country, one
church” was an accepted principle in the Orthodox world; and
Constantinople felt that it had nothing to lose in its relations with
Moscow by applying that principle to Ukraine.
The
meaning and procedure of granting autocephaly are complex and have
evolved over time. Unlike the Catholic Church, which recognises the
Pope as its supreme authority, the Orthodox Church does not recognise
the existence of such an authority. According to Orthodox
ecclesiology, every church territory has the right to autocephaly and
the Ecumenical Patriarch is recognised as “first among equals” by
the heads of all autocephalous Orthodox churches. He is not able to
interfere in the internal affairs of other churches, but the heads do
recognise him as a unifying point in the Orthodox world. He has the
indisputable right to grant autocephaly to ecclesiastical territories
under his jurisdiction.
In
medieval times, the Orthodox world recognised the existence of the
Pentarchy – five traditional patriarchal sees in Rome,
Constantinople, Alexandria, Antioch, and Jerusalem. Later, several
new churches were formed in areas that today fall within the
territory of several nation states – these are the autocephalous
churches in Cyprus, Russia, Serbia, Romania, Bulgaria, Georgia,
Greece, Poland, Albania, and the Czech Republic and Slovakia, as well
as autonomous churches in Finland and Estonia. Almost all of them,
including that in Russia, received their autocephalous status from
Constantinople.
In the
Ukrainian case, autocephaly is also a question of historical dispute:
namely, the question of how, in 1686, Moscow established its
jurisdiction over the Kievan Metropolitanate. The Russian Orthodox
Church insists that, when this happened, Constantinople transferred
its jurisdiction over Kiev to the Moscow Patriarchate. Moscow,
therefore, maintains that Kiev has been a part of the Russian diocese
since then. For its part, Constantinople argues that, in that year,
it gave Moscow only the right to ordain the Metropolitan of Kiev
because Ottoman rule made it impossible for the Ecumenical
Patriarchate to fully exercise its jurisdiction over Kiev. This
reading of history is based on a document issued by the Ecumenical
Patriarchate in 1686. “I … told him [Kirill]: you took
ecclesiastic control of Kiev in a non-Orthodox manner”, Bartholomew
commented to ECFR.14 “Our Patriarch, my predecessor, went to
collect church revenues in Russia. But then he was not allowed to
return to Constantinople without concessions over Kiev. So, in 1686,
Moscow received only ‘the right to ordain’ the Metropolitan of
Kiev, who was obliged to mention the name of the Ecumenical Patriarch
as first in the liturgies. But failed to do it as promised.”
For
this reason, the initial step before granting autocephaly was to
re-establish the jurisdiction of Constantinople over Ukraine. This
happened in October 2018 and was accepted by the Kyivan Patriarchate
church and the Ukrainian Autocephalous Orthodox Church.
The
establishment of the church is just the beginning of a long process –
but the Orthodox world is used to taking the long view. Bartholomew
himself says all major church decisions – such as the Pan-Orthodox
Council or the granting of autocephaly – take decades, at least, to
win the acceptance of all involved. Church expert Andrei Kuraev is at
pains to point out that: “The Russian church was in a schism with
Constantinople for almost a century before the latter recognised it.
The same happened later to the Greek church, which refused to be
subordinate to the patriarch in Istanbul. Then the Bulgarian schism;
the Romanian, Albanian, Serbian schisms.” Ukrainian autocephaly was
born out of crisis and took decades to heal, just as with many other
national Orthodox churches.
AFTER
AUTOCEPHALY: WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?
Proponents
of Ukrainian autocephaly insist that the new Orthodox Church of
Ukraine will become the largest Orthodox church in the country, not
only bringing together the parishes of the former Kyivan Patriarchate
church and the Ukrainian Autocephalous Orthodox Church but also
attracting an increasing number of parishes from the Ukrainian
Orthodox Church–Moscow Patriarchate. For instance, in one of his
first public statements, Epiphanius said that the new church already
had around 7,000 parishes and that he expected more parishes from
Moscow Patriarchate church to join.
He may
have been right. Only two bishops from the Moscow church attended the
15 December 2018 Church Council in Kyiv, which established the new
Orthodox church of Ukraine and elected Epiphanius Metropolitan of
Kyiv and head of the new church. But the ban has not prevented
parishes from considering a change of allegiance: at the time of
writing, more than 500 formerly Moscow Patriarchate church parishes
had announced their decision to join the new church. The number is
increasing by the day, and the trend is spreading eastwards – into
the more Russian-speaking areas of central and eastern Ukraine.
But
tension between the newly autocephalous Orthodox Church of Ukraine
and the Moscow Patriarchate is not the only complication. The
founders of the Ukrainian church – Epiphanius and Filaret – are
also at loggerheads over influence on the new body. Filaret became
Honorary Patriarch at the end of 2018, but he is unhappy with his
honorary position, which carries little real power. Filaret has,
therefore, recently threatened to revive the former, unrecognised
Ukrainian Orthodox Church–Kyivan Patriarchate, claiming that this
would eventually lead to recognition of the patriarchal status of the
head of the church. This, however, contradicts the conditions for
autocephaly and would further complicate relations with other
Orthodox churches and even with the Ecumenical Patriarchate. Some of
these struggles are playing out in the open, which certainly does not
help the new church. And yet, the underlying trend – that of an
ever-deepening spiritual split between Russia and Ukraine – is here
to stay, irrespective of the drama of church politics in Ukraine.
Much
will now depend on how the new church and its young metropolitan
position themselves in their relations with both the Russian and
Ukrainian states. The new church faces a dilemma. For the moment, it
is expedient for it to rely heavily on the Ukrainian state for
protection and help in building momentum towards becoming the biggest
church in Ukraine. Were the double-headed eagle of the Russian state
and the Russian church to combine to undermine it, the Ukrainian
church would face great difficulties.
However,
in the longer term, if the new church wants to win hearts and minds,
it could focus on faith, not state, and refrain from replicating
Russian-style state-church symbiosis in Ukraine. Doing so may help
insulate it from political game-playing. Furthermore, if it wants to
be accepted as a regular member of the family of the Orthodox
churches, it should distance itself from everyday Ukrainian politics
and show a readiness to communicate and take into consideration the
opinions of other churches, as well as to defend higher values that
are at odds with Ukrainian national goals. Paradoxically, the
election of Volodymyr Zelensky to the Ukrainian presidency could
contribute to that. When in power, Poroshenko lobbied the new church
heavily. Under Zelensky, the autocephalous church may receive less
overt support from politicians at the national level, possibly
allowing the church to dissociate itself more successfully from
various domestic political players.
Given
the tense political climate, the decision-making of Moscow-affiliated
Ukrainian parishes could well create space for confrontations and
provocations. Church officials in Ukraine have declared that they
will not intervene or push Moscow Patriarchate parishes to join the
new church: the decision is to be made by parishioners themselves.
“We have set a high bar – a parish can join, if two-thirds of the
parishioners want”, said Filaret in October, when the process had
not yet started.15 But divided opinion among parishioners and any
decision to switch allegiance could cause trouble, either locally or
even internationally – if the Russian Orthodox Church (perhaps with
the backing of the Kremlin) began to show an interest in parishes’
decisions on their allegiance.
Inevitably,
questions of property are bound to be thorny, especially in a
contested situation. In Ukraine, most church property belongs to the
parishes and would move with them. But there are some high-profile
exceptions, such as the Kyiv Pechersk Lavra, whose ownership is
divided between the state and the Moscow Patriarchate church. The
latter uses the monastery as the residence of its head, Metropolitan
Onufriy. The Lavra has already seen some tense scenes. In the case of
the Estonian church conflict, similarly high-profile places – the
Nevsky cathedral and Pühtitsa monastery – were subject to lengthy
negotiations and creative solutions.
We have
been here before: The case of conflict in Estonia
The
conflict in Ukraine is not the first time Moscow and Constantinople
have broken off relations during disagreements over the post-Soviet
space. The same happened in Estonia in 1996, which saw the peak of
what was to become a decade-long stand-off (1993-2002).
The
Orthodox church of the pre-war Estonian Republic had been subordinate
to Constantinople, but the Moscow Patriarchate took over in 1945. So
when Estonia regained its independence in the early 1990s, there were
two claimants for the title of successor Orthodox church: the church
that was subordinate to the Moscow Patriarchate and the Orthodox
Church of Estonia that had – in small numbers, but de jure –
survived the Soviet period in exile.
For the
Estonian state at the time, restitution was the name of the game: it
had legally restored its pre-war statehood (as opposed to declaring
itself “newly independent”); it gave citizenship to descendants
of pre-war citizens (asking others to naturalise); and it returned
all nationalised property to its pre-war owners. Hence, the
government was open to the claims of the exiled church and its
supporters in Estonia. The attempts by the Moscow Patriarchate to
declare itself the descendant of the pre-war church were frustrated,
as were Patriarch Alexy’s suggestions to establish an autocephalous
church in Estonia that would be under neither Moscow nor
Constantinople. Though legally the whole process was reduced to
property reform, it is reasonable to assume that the state’s
suspicion that the church might serve as Russia’s foreign policy
tool did not help the Moscow Patriarchate.
In
February 1996, the Constantinople Patriarch announced the
revalidation of tomos from 1923 that established the Estonian
Orthodox church as autonomous. Moscow’s response was to break off
relations. However, this did not last long – by April the same year
the representatives of the two patriarchates had agreed that Estonia
could have two Orthodox churches. Painstaking negotiations ensued in
which political, clerical, and legal issues intertwined for several
years more. In 2002 Estonia formally received two Orthodox churches:
the Orthodox Church of Estonia and the Estonian Orthodox Church of
the Moscow Patriarchate. Congregations were free to choose which
church to stay with; for those that did not find unanimity, church
property remained open to both groups of believers. The two most
high-profile institutions – the Aleksander Nevsky Cathedral and the
Pühtitsa Monastery – eventually gained stavropegial status,
meaning that they answer directly to the patriarch in Moscow; but
they still work in property.
The
conflict in Ukraine makes Estonians uneasy. Believers fear that the
Estonian schism – which had started to heal – could be reopened
now that the Moscow Patriarchate is forbidding its believers to visit
Constantinople churches. State officials, in turn, fear that the
tensions over Ukraine could inspire the Moscow Patriarchate church –
now headed by a new leader who was briefly active in post-annexation
Crimea – to return to its former approach of regularly issuing
complaints and threats.
The
Estonian case is unlikely to offer guidance to Ukraine, which is a
much bigger country, with more believers, a different political
history, and different church history. Overall, Ukraine is a much
more important a country for both the Kremlin and the Russian
Orthodox Church. In the Estonian context, the agreement between the
two patriarchates was instrumental in resolving the stand-off; this
may provide a glimmer of hope to those wishing to see a resolution of
the issue in Ukraine. But it remains to be seen if such an approach
would also work here, where the stakes are higher and relations
between the patriarchs significantly worse.
Indeed,
the church issue remains a landmine in Russian-Ukrainian relations
that could yet explode if the Kremlin so wishes. Supporters of the
Russian Orthodox Church – or provocateurs planted among their ranks
– may try to prevent parishes from switching allegiance, or may get
involved in other disputes. And the risk of clashes will remain. In a
heated atmosphere, it does not take much to create trouble.
More
broadly, it remains unclear how many other Orthodox churches will
recognise the new church. Most are still biding their time. Some are
divided internally over the matter, and none is in a hurry to choose
between Moscow and Constantinople. But their room for manoeuvre seems
limited. Since most other churches received their autocephaly from
Constantinople, they cannot go too far in questioning
Constantinople’s right to issue the status. One Greek metropolitan
has argued that: “rejecting the way the Patriarchate issued the
Tomos of Autocephaly of Ukraine will call into question the
autocephaly statuses of the eight current Autocephalous Churches,
including the Autocephalous Church of Greece, since they were granted
by the Ecumenical Patriarchate.” Consequently, no matter how much
time it takes, the process of recognition is unavoidable, since
autocephaly cannot be revoked. It took 20 years and 50 years
respectively for the Romanian and Bulgarian autocephalous churches
win recognition. It is likely that the process will be faster for the
Ukrainian church.
Regional
reverberations
Autocephaly
in Ukraine has implications for several other countries with
contested church politics.
Moldova:
There are two main Orthodox churches in Moldova. The dominant one is
the Moldovan Orthodox Church of the Russian Orthodox Church, which
claims around 90 percent of church parishes in Moldova. The second is
the Bessarabian Metropolis of the Romanian Orthodox Church, which
claims approximately 10 percent of church parishes in Romania. The
Bessarabian Metropolis was refused registration by state bodies until
2002, when the European Court of Human Rights intervened to demand
the authorities legally register it. There is no serious move towards
autocephaly in Moldova, as those who oppose Moscow’s influence on
the church tend to join the Bessarabian Metropolis rather than strive
for autocephaly.
North
Macedonia and Montenegro
Like
its Russian counterpart, the Serbian Orthodox Church is also at risk
of losing territory. The Orthodox churches in North Macedonia and
Montenegro also aspire to autocephalous status; and the North
Macedonian case has an even longer history than that of Ukraine.
Towards
the end of the Ottoman rule in the late 19th century, the majority of
the Orthodox population on the territory of modern North Macedonia
joined the Bulgarian Exarchate, which was established in 1870 but
remained unrecognised by the Ecumenical Patriarchate. After the
Balkans wars and the first world war, the territory of what is now
North Macedonia fell under the Serbian Orthodox Church, which was
recognised by the Ecumenical Patriarchate. In 1958 the establishment
of the Macedonian Orthodox Church was announced, and its autonomous
status was recognised by the patriarch in Belgrade in 1959. In 1967
the Macedonian Orthodox Church unilaterally declared autocephaly, but
this decision was not endorsed either by Serbia nor by any other
Orthodox church. Relationships deteriorated further after the
break-up of Yugoslavia. In 2002 the Macedonian and Serbian churches
reached an agreement, but this was eventually rejected by the
Macedonian side, as the Serbian church was not ready to grant full
autocephaly. In May 2018, following the Ukrainian example, the
Macedonian church also asked the Ecumenical Patriarchate to affirm
its autocephalous status. Currently, the unrecognised Macedonian
Orthodox Church–Ohrid Archbishopric controls the territory of North
Macedonia almost entirely, although the Orthodox Ohrid Archbishopric
nominally continues to exist as an autonomous church within the
Serbian Orthodox Church.
In 1993
the creation of the Montenegrin Orthodox Church was announced. The
new church claimed autocephalous status but was not recognised by
other churches. Its influence remains limited in Montenegro, where
the Metropolitanate of Montenegro and the Littoral of the Serbian
Orthodox Church remains stronger.
Patriarch
Bartholomew strongly rejects parallels between Ukraine and Macedonia
or Montenegro. He recently declared: “Many hierarchs of the Serbian
Church keep their distance from Ukraine, fearing that what has been
done there will be repeated in Montenegro and Ohrid. But we assure
you that things are not like that. The Church of Serbia had specific
geographical boundaries. The Ecumenical Patriarchate handed over
these lands with a Tomos, something that did not happen with the
Church of Russia … The difference, therefore, with Ukraine, both in
a canonical and ecclesiological way, is that Russia entered and
occupied the Metropolis of Kiev without ever having been granted it,
while Serbia has gained everything that belongs to it in a canonical
and ecclesiological manner. This means that the Ecumenical
Patriarchate will not alter the status of the Church of Serbia and
its boundaries without any consultation and cooperation.” As a
result of developments in Ukraine, however, May 2019 the Serbian
church announced its readiness to renew negotiations with the
Macedonian Orthodox Church.
In
Russia, the nature of the Orthodox church itself may now change: its
global influence could decline, and this will have domestic
implications. The decision to challenge Constantinople has left it
isolated: it is noteworthy that even the churches that boycotted the
Pan-Orthodox Council together with the Russian church did not follow
Moscow in breaking off relations with the Ecumenical Patriarchate. In
future, Moscow may continue to support the anti-Western elements and
voices that exist in all Orthodox churches. But isolation reduces its
soft power. This makes the church less useful for the Russian state,
but at the same time more dependent on it too. Some thinkers in
Moscow see the longer-term consequences in fairly gloomy colours:
“Now the Russian Orthodox church will lose its last claim to
internationality; it will now become Russia-centric and even closer
to the state than it was – which [in the longer term could] result
in a violent anti-clerical backlash”, says one liberal-leaning
analyst.16 Putin’s popularity has been declining of late, just as
it did at the start of the decade, before the conservative turn. The
church could decline along with him.
There
currently appears to be little sign that Moscow elites are rallying
to the flag in the wake of the Ukrainian breakaway. There is no
sympathy for Kirill and his loss of the Ukrainian flock. “He has
himself to blame”, one prominent foreign policy analyst argues. “If
our aim is to save souls, we should just let them go”, says another
figure, well connected among the higher echelons of political as well
as religious Moscow. “De facto they are gone already. They have
even stopped being interested in the gossip of the court of the
Moscow Patriarch!”17 As Oscar Wilde said, the only thing worse than
being talked about is not being talked about. When the gossip moves
on, you know the power has moved on.
So
what, in the end, will the Kremlin actually choose to do? Despite
thunderous statements from it and the patriarch, Moscow has not yet
decided how to act – and it could keep weighing up its options for
the best part of 2019, studying post-election events in Ukraine and
examining the opportunities that might arise in this turbulent
context. The Moscow Patriarchate has confined its recent official
statements to canonical commentary on the situation. This is not out
of any reluctance to involve itself in politics, but because a
wait-and-see approach is the current order of the day in the Russian
capital.
The
wider geopolitical context will retain its influence on the Russian
government’s decisions. It has become frustrated with the Normandy
format for regulating the Donbas conflict: the Minsk agreements that
were Moscow’s big diplomatic victory have proven hard to translate
into real gains; but Moscow is not yet ready to admit that Donbas was
a misguided political investment that it should simply ditch, making
use of any way out that will allow it to save face. If Moscow decides
that the new political constellation emerging in Ukraine offers it
some openings, it will try to use them – and it may well put the
church issue to one side in favour of wider geopolitical gains. In
such a situation, the chances of resolving the matter peacefully
would grow, perhaps along the lines of the church conflict in
Estonia: one could imagine Moscow accepting its partial loss and
reaching out to Constantinople, and maybe even Kyiv, to work out the
terms for the continued existence of a diminished Russian Orthodox
Church in Ukraine. In this scenario, the Ukrainian church would come
into existence but – as before and in other countries – be not
the only church present in the country.
However,
if Moscow sees only continued deadlock in political relations with
Kyiv, it may look for options to escalate tension between them. Here,
it could easily bring the church issue into play. Feelings are
running high and revenge has, for now, effectively been suspended.
The Russian Orthodox Church is not simply a plaything that the
Kremlin can control as it wishes. But a long history of cooperation,
overlapping sets of values, and shared rancour at the loss –
political and ecclesiastical – of Ukraine means there is more than
enough opportunity for them to combine in a wider effort to make life
difficult for church and state there. As one Kremlin adviser admitted
to the authors of this paper: “The church question is very painful
for us. Consequences? They might still come … later.”18
And yet
the single most important consequence has taken place already:
Ukraine’s split from Russia has deepened further. It started with
political, military, and economic matters, and has now extended to
religious affairs. Ukraine’s autocephalous church is here to stay,
and it is one of the results of the war in Donbas. The church’s
consolidation domestically and internationally will be neither
painless nor quick. But in this it will resemble all other
autocephalous Orthodox churches, whose emergence was painful, and
often came as a result of other wars that first changed political
borders – and then transformed ecclesiastical realities.
Chronology
of the main steps leading to Ukrainian autocephaly
June
1686: Ecumenical Patriarch Dionysius IV signs a Patriarchal Act for
the partial transfer of jurisdiction over the Orthodox Church of Kiev
to the Moscow Patriarchate. The act states that every new
Metropolitan of Kiev should be elected by the local church, while the
Moscow Patriarch received the right to ordain the elected
metropolitan. The metropolitan is obliged to commemorate the name of
the Ecumenical Patriarch, recognising him as the head of the church.
28
October 1990: The Moscow Patriarchate grants the Ukrainian Exarchate
the status of a self-governing church under the jurisdiction of the
Russian Orthodox Church. This leads to the establishment of the
Ukrainian Orthodox Church–Moscow Patriarchate.
25-26
June 1992: A Church Council in Kyiv leads to the establishment of the
Ukrainian Orthodox Church – Kyiv Patriarchate. The newly
established church is proclaimed schismatic by the Moscow
Patriarchate and has remained unrecognised by any other Orthodox
church.
19-26
June 2016: The Pan-Orthodox Council takes place in Crete, convened by
the Ecumenical Patriarch. All Orthodox churches were present, with
the exception of those of Russia, Antioch (Syria), Bulgaria, and
Georgia.
April
2018: The Ukrainian president and parliament send appeals to
Patriarch Bartholomew requesting autocephaly for the Orthodox church
in Ukraine. The request was supported by two of the three Orthodox
churches in Ukraine, but not by the Ukrainian Orthodox Church–Moscow
Patriarchate.
31
August 2018: Patriarch Kirill makes a visit to Istanbul from Moscow
and meets Ecumenical Bartholomew in an unsuccessful last-ditch
attempt to prevent autocephaly.
11
October 2018: A synod meeting in Istanbul chaired by Bartholomew
decides to proceed to the granting of autocephaly to the church of
Ukraine. As a preliminary step, the synod resumed the jurisdiction of
Constantinople over the territory of Ukraine, lifted the
excommunication imposed on the leaders of the Kyivan Patriarchate
church and the Ukrainian Autocephalous Orthodox Church by the Moscow
Patriarchate, and restored their “hierarchical or priestly rank”.
This opened the way for a unification Church Council between the two
churches and the granting of the autocephaly.
15
October 2018: The Moscow Patriarchate breaks off with the Ecumenical
Patriarchate by formally announcing a schism. This means that clerics
of the Moscow Patriarchate are forbidden from taking part in
communion, liturgies, and any other sacrament in which a cleric of
the Ecumenical Patriarchate is also taking part. The Ecumenical
Patriarch is removed from the diptychs of the Moscow Patriarchate and
his name is no longer mentioned in the liturgies served by Russian
clerics. The Moscow Patriarchate also breaks off participation in any
episcopal assemblies, theological discussions, multilateral
commissions, and any other structures that are chaired or co-chaired
by representatives of the Ecumenical Patriarchate. Lay members of the
Russian Orthodox Church are advised to abstain from taking part in
liturgies served by the Ecumenical Patriarchate, including refraining
from visiting Mount Athos.
15
December 2018: The new Orthodox Church of Ukraine is established by a
Church Council in Kyiv. The bulk of the Council’s 192 delegates
come from the Ukrainian Orthodox Church–Kyivan Patriarchate and the
Ukrainian Autocephalous Orthodox Church. The Ukrainian Orthodox
Church–Moscow Patriarchate does not officially take part, but two
of its bishops attend. The 39-year-old Metropolitan Epiphanius is
elected head of the new church with the title “Metropolitan of Kyiv
and All Ukraine”. Filaret, leader of the former unrecognised
Ukrainian Orthodox Church–Kyivan Patriarchate, receives the title
“Honorary Patriarch” in the newly established church. The
position carries no real power.
5
January 2019: Bartholomew signs tomos, officially granting
autocephaly to the freshly formed Orthodox Church of Ukraine. In its
broader meaning, tomos is a decree of a head of an autocephalous
Orthodox church on certain matters. In its narrow meaning, it is the
document with which the mother church grants autocephalous or
autonomous status to another church in its jurisdiction.
6
January 2019: Patriarch Epiphanius receives tomos and takes it to
Kyiv, where autocephaly is celebrated with the liturgy.
3
February 2019: Epiphanius is enthroned as Metropolitan of Kyiv and
All Ukraine. Traditional practice in the Orthodox world is that,
after the enthronement, the new head of the church sends his irenic
(peace) messages to the heads of the other Orthodox churches, which
begins the process of recognition.
Who’s
who in the story of Ukrainian autocephaly
Kirill
(Gundyaev), Patriarch of Moscow and all Rus’
Born in
1946 in Leningrad, Kirill was tonsured as a monk in 1969 by
Metropolitan Nikodim (Rotov). In 1971 he was appointed as the
representative of the Moscow Patriarchate to the World Council of
Churches. Ordained as a bishop in 1976, he became Archbishop of
Smolensk and Kaliningrad in 1988 and was appointed chair of the
department for external relations of the Russian church in 1989. On
27 January 2009, he was elected as Patriarch of Moscow and All Rus’;
on 1 February 2009, he was enthroned.
Hilarion
(Alfeyev), Metropolitan of Volokolamsk and chair of the department
for external relations of the Russian church
Born in
1966 in Moscow, Hilarion studied to be a classical musician and
graduated from Moscow State Conservatoire in 1986. He was tonsured as
a monk in 1987 and entered a monastery in Vilnius. After graduating
from the Moscow Theological Seminary in 1989 and the Moscow
Theological Academy in 1991, he joined the department for external
relations of the Russian church. In 2002 he was ordained as a bishop.
In 2009 he was appointed Bishop of Volokolamsk, minister to the
Patriarch of Moscow, and chair of the department for external
relations of the Russian church. In 2010 he was elevated to the
position of Metropolitan.
Tikhon
(Shevkunov), Metropolitan of Pskov and Porkhov
Born in
1958 in Moscow, Tikhon graduated from the screenwriting school of the
Institute of Cinematography in Moscow. Tonsured as a monk in 1991,
Tikhon was appointed hegumen (abbot) of the revived Sretensky
Monastery in Moscow in 1995. He became famous for making the
monastery one of the centres of revived church life in Moscow,
organising the construction of the new Cathedral to New Martyrs and
Confessors of the Russian Church, and creating the Sretensky
Theological Seminary. In 2008 he released the film “Death of an
Empire: The Lesson of Byzantium”. In 2011 he published the book
“Everyday Saints and Other Stories”, which became a bestseller.
In 2015 he was ordained as a bishop, appointed head of the Western
Vicariate of the city of Moscow, and became chair of the Patriarchate
Council for Culture. He was elevated to the rank of Metropolitan of
Pskov and Porkhov in 2018.
Bartholomew,
Archbishop of Constantinople, New Rome, and Ecumenical Patriarch
Born in
1940 on the North Aegean island of Imbros (Gockceada in Turkish),
Bartholomew graduated in theology from the Patriarchal Theological
school/Halki Seminary in 1961 and later pursued his postgraduate
studies at the Pontifical Oriental Institute in Rome. Ordained as a
priest in 1968, he was appointed as director of the newly established
Patriarchal Office by Patriarch Demetrius in 1972. In 1973 he was
ordained as a bishop and as Metropolitan of Philadelphia, and in 1990
he became Metropolitan of Chalcedon. Elected Ecumenical Patriarch in
1991, he became famous as the “green patriarch” for his active
positions on the protection of the environment. A proponent of the
ecumenical dialogue, he established good relations with the Roman
pontiffs and leaders of Protestant denominations. In 2016 he convoked
the Pan-Orthodox Council in Crete.
Filaret
(Denysenko), Honorary Patriarch of the Ukrainian Orthodox
Church–Kyivan Patriarchate
Born in
1929 in the Donetsk region, Filaret graduated from the Moscow
Theological Academy and was tonsured as a monk in 1950. He became a
close associate of Moscow Patriarch Alexy I, was ordained as a bishop
in 1962, and was elevated to the position of Archbishop of Kiev in
1966. This made him one of the most influential hierarchs in the
Russian church. In 1979 Filaret was appointed as chair of the Council
of the Russian Church for Christian Unity. Regarded as one of the
serious candidates for the patriarchal throne in 1990, he lost out to
Patriarch Alexy II. He was the leading figure in the establishment of
the Ukrainian Orthodox Church–Kyivan Patriarchate in 1992. In July
1995 he was elected patriarch of that church. The Moscow Patriarchate
did not recognise the church and Filaret was defrocked. At the
unification Church Council on 15 December 2018, the Ukrainian
Orthodox Church–Kyivan Patriarchate merged with the newly created
Orthodox Church of Ukraine, which had received autocephalous status
from Constantinople. At the same council, Filaret received the title
“Honorary Patriarch” (or Patriarch Emeritus).
Epiphanius
(Dumenko), Metropolitan of Kyiv and All Ukraine of the Orthodox
Church of Ukraine
Born in
1979, Epiphanius graduated from Kyiv Theological Seminary Academy and
from Kyiv Theological Academy. Tonsured as a monk in 2007, he was
ordained as a bishop and elected bishop of Vyshhorod in 2009. He was
promoted to archbishop in 2012, and to metropolitan in 2013. At the
unification Church Council of the Ukrainian church, Epiphanius was
elected Metropolitan of Kyiv and Primate of the newly established
Orthodox Church of Ukraine.
Onufriy
(Berezovsky), Metropolitan of Kyiv of the Ukrainian Orthodox
Church–Moscow Patriarchate
Born in
1944, Onufriy was tonsured as a monk in 1971. He graduated from
Moscow Theological Academy in 1988, was ordained Bishop of Chernivtsi
and Bukovyna in 1992, and was elevated to archbishop in 1994 and to
metropolitan in 2000. In 2014 he was elected head of the Ukrainian
Orthodox Church–Moscow Patriarchate, with the title Metropolitan of
Kyiv and All Ukraine. As head of the church, Onufriy succeeded the
popular Metropolitan Volodymyr.
ABOUT
THE AUTHORS
Kadri
Liik is a senior policy fellow at the European Council on Foreign
Relations. Before joining ECFR in October 2012, she was director of
the International Centre for Defence Studies in Estonia. Her
publications for ECFR include: “Winning the normative war with
Russia: An EU-Russia Power Audit” (2018), “What does Russia
want?” (2017), “The new power couple: Russia and Iran in the
Middle East” (co-authored, 2016), “How to talk with Russia”
(2015), “Russia’s pivot to Eurasia” (2014), and “Regime
change in Russia” (2013).
Momchil
Metodiev is editor in chief of the Christianity and Culture journal,
published in Sofia, Bulgaria. He is a historian whose research
interests focus on relations between church and state during the
communist period. He is also research fellow at the Institute for
Studies of the Recent Past in Sofia and author of several books on
the history of the communist state security and Bulgarian Orthodox
Church.
Nicu
Popescu is director of the Wider Europe programme at the European
Council on Foreign Relations and a senior policy fellow with ECFR’s
New European Security Initiative. He also teaches at l’Institut
d’études politiques de Paris (Sciences Po). Previously he worked
as senior foreign policy adviser for the prime minister of Moldova,
and as a researcher at EUISS in Paris, ECFR in London, and CEPS in
Brussels.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The
authors would like to thank all the people who were interviewed for
this paper and who helped us to understand the different political
and religious aspects of the situation. As many individuals talked
confidentially, we have withheld the names, but you know who you are!
Special thanks go to the All-Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew in
Constantinople, Patriarch Filaret in Kyiv, and officials from the
Patriarchate of the Russian Orthodox Church.
We are
also grateful to our ECFR colleagues: Adam Harrison for competent
editing, and Joanna Hosa for logistical support.
As
always, all errors belong the authors only.

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