Diasporic group boundaries and solidarity in the making: collective memory in the anti-war protests in Sweden

ABSTRACT

Since the eruption of the war in Ukraine in February 2022, both Ukrainian and Russian diasporas in Sweden have been reframing themselves through memories, narratives and symbols. They have been revised in connection to the initial Russian-backed insurgency in eastern Ukraine and the annexation of Crimea (2014), the “homeland” as well as previous diasporic mobilizations in the country of residence. Revising the memories, narratives and symbols to fit the new reality of a full-scale war also has meant renegotiating group boundaries in the solidarity with Ukraine movement. In this study, I focus on the collective memory and group boundary-making within the pro-Ukraine movement and demonstrations in Stockholm, Sweden, and investigate the change in solidarity patterns, specifically performed during the initial mobilization due to the annexation of Crimea, Russian-backed insurgency in the eastern Ukraine, and the first months of Russian invasion of Ukraine.

KEYWORDS:

• Solidarity
• Group boundary-making
• Diaspora
• Russian–Ukrainian war
• Collective memory
• Conflict transportation

Introduction

In March 2014, the Russian Federation annexed Crimea, an autonomous region within Ukraine, under the claims of “protection of the Russian people” and Crimea’s “ethnic belonging to Russian people” (President of the Russian Federation 2014). Shortly after, started the insurgency in the two eastern regions of Ukraine – Luhansk and Donetsk – under the same pretext. After years of conflict, two failed peace agreements (Åtland 2020), and months of increased presence of Russian troops near Ukrainian borders in late 2021, on the 24th of February 2022 Russia started a full-scale invasion of Ukraine.

The full-scale invasion has led to an unprecedented shift in narratives and action towards Ukraine from most Western countries. Germany and Sweden, for example, made historical decisions to send defence weapons to Ukraine, and millions of Ukrainian refugees could find temporary shelters under the European Temporary Protection Directive in the countries of the European Union (European Commission 2022). Large protests and demonstrations took place all over Europe. The scale of some of these demonstrations would have been unimaginable back in 2014, such as an anti-war demonstration in Berlin in early March 2022 that counted tens of thousands of protesters. In Sweden, where the pro-Ukrainian protests since early 2014 would have counted hundreds and which were organized mainly by Ukrainian diaspora organizations, the 2022 invasion mobilized thousands, and attracted not only Ukrainian diasporic organizations and individuals but also representatives of organizations dealing with human rights, other diasporas (e.g. Russian, Belarusian, Georgian and Estonian among others), labour unions and even representatives of different Swedish parties (Nilsonne 2022). This suggests that a redrawing of solidarity patterns might have taken place.

Research on diaspora and conflict in the “homeland” shows that wars in countries of origin can have a mobilizational effect and might lead to conflict transportation (Féron 2017) and even creation of the very idea of the “homeland” (Axel 2001). “Homeland” conflict often shapes the lives of diasporic communities, and it can even mobilize diasporas into existence (Müller-Suleymanova 2023; Sökefeld 2006). Diasporic mobilization is also dependent on opportunity structures (Orjuela 2018), in addition to their specific features such as dispersion, “homeland” orientation and boundary maintenance (Brubaker 2005). Therefore, in times of a protracted conflict in the “homeland” that suddenly escalates, a reshaping of patterns of boundary maintenance can occur (Toivanen and Baser 2019; Voytiv 2021). This in turn can lead to new patterns of solidarity that are not always dependent on ethno-national boundaries and discourses (see Féron 2023, this issue). The processes of mobilization in response to the war or other conflict escalations in the “homeland” are also dependent on the context of the country of residence (Lindholm 2021). Diasporas are thus better conceptualized as processes of claim-making rather than homogeneous groups (Brubaker 2005). They can mobilize differently and reconstruct group boundaries depending on the events happening in the “homeland”, and in relation to the context of the country of residence, or they might not mobilize at all (Féron and Voytiv 2021).

In this paper, I focus on the changes in the solidarity movement with Ukraine in Sweden during the beginning of Russian–Ukrainian armed conflict between early 2014–2016 and the beginning of the Russian full-scale invasion during February–April 2022. These solidarities are often framed by the collective experiences and memories of traumatic events the war brings (Müller-Suleymanova 2023), as well as the (inter-diasporic) dynamics in the country of residence and renegotiations of belonging (Lindholm 2021). I use data collected between 2015 and 2019 as part of a doctoral project (Voytiv 2020), including interviews, and observations of the artefacts brought to the first anti-war demonstrations in Stockholm, Sweden, during February–April 2022.

A note on methodology

This study draws on two sources of data that refer to different time periods and focus on separate aspects of diasporic setting during the conflict. These time points refer to different foci of mobilization due to the conflict and subsequent full-scale war in Ukraine. First, 59 qualitative interviews Sweden in with Ukrainians, Russians and other diasporic individuals conducted during 2015–2019 period point to initial diasporic response after the Euromaidan protests, the annexation of Crimea and outbreak of the conflict in eastern Ukraine. Second, observations of the artefacts brought to demonstrations in support for Ukraine on the main squares of Stockholm between 24th February and April 2022. While qualitatively different, the first data point can shed light on some of the aspects of diasporic mobilization and memory in early 2022, while the observations during the second data point can relate to the possible developments in patterns of mobilization since the beginning of the conflict. Taken together, the data can give a multidimensional perspective on ways collective memory shapes diasporic mobilization.

The interviews mostly focused on the social relationships of the participants and diasporic organizational field in Sweden during the unravelling of the conflict in Ukraine in 2014–2019. Some other participants who identified as Serbs, Kurds and Swedes were also interviewed because of their expertise in diasporic organizational setting in Sweden. The interviews were taken online and face to face mainly in the biggest cities of Sweden (Malmö, Gothenburg and Stockholm).

The pro-Ukraine demonstrations took place at least once a week in Stockholm during the studied period in 2022, and I have joined most of them. During the observations, I took pictures of artefacts protesters brought to the demonstrations, which included flags, posters, smaller notes, etc. I have also taken notes straight after every event finished. In addition, I have followed social media of the main organization that arranges demonstrations in Stockholm and took screenshots of their posts that related to the protests. While combining these two data sources is methodologically asymmetrical, I opted for the interviews from the earlier time point to inform the observations of demonstrations in early 2022 and did not want to take more interviews for several reasons.

First, since the war has been a massive traumatic event, I did not want to contribute to that trauma with my questions. I wanted to focus on how exactly participants of the demonstrations show their support to Ukraine in terms of material artefacts. Second, this early period of the war caused a lot of confusion and emotion, therefore interviews seemed to be less relevant a source of information when it comes to showing solidarity than actual artefacts of solidarity. Third, as a Ukrainian woman myself I knew that emotional pain and my lived experience could make the process of interviewing more difficult for both me and a prospective interviewee. Therefore, taking pictures of the symbols of solidarity and short notes allowed me to later analyse the whole experience with some distance while using my expertise as a researcher. In addition, I have also followed Swedish response to the war via main Swedish news media (specifically SVT and Dagens Nyheter). This allowed me to contextualize the mobilization and the changes in interpretation of the war within the Swedish context. Finally, as mentioned above, the interviews have an informing role rather than taking central role in the analysis. This was done to ensure continuity of conclusions since the actual war started well before the full-scale invasion began.

It is important to also discuss my role as a researcher here, especially considering the direct effects it has had on me. Being a Ukrainian woman, it is difficult to put into words the emotions and feelings I went through when suddenly the full-scale war erupted. It is a paralyzing yet mobilizing state of mind: the reality is too horrible to be able to take it alone. As a researcher, I also understood how important it is to document these experiences. What this resulted in is that it was too painful to write or talk to anyone about the war in an academic sense, i.e. systematically. Feeling the war on my skin gave me a unique perspective on the war and Ukrainian diaspora, especially when it comes to meanings of solidarity, changes of conflict memory and re-narrativization of the conflict overall. There were, however, many issues with my positionalities which I tried to solve to the best of my abilities by taking notes straight after each demonstration, and by using the data I have collected before the full-scale invasion. I have also significantly relied on the media reports and official statements made by Swedish media and politicians. All in all, I believe that my subjective experience enriched the collected data and helped me to understand and live through the first months of the war.

I am presenting the results in an integrated way. Not all the interviews were used for this analysis, however, all of them were informing the themes discussed in this paper. In most cases when discussing events of 2022, I mostly rely on descriptions of the artefacts brought to the demonstrations and my research notes.

Theoretical framework

Violence and tragedy of armed conflicts and wars in the locations in which they take place is hard to overstate. However, wars do not only happen in a physical location, they can also have a meaning dimension that can travel outside of the specific location/area to places seemingly unrelated. This can happen through war narratives, symbols and ideologies in contexts that can be completely detached from their original meanings connected to the area where the war is taking place (Féron and Voytiv 2021). In their modelling of conflicts as clouds (similar to cloud technologies), Féron and Voytiv (2022) put forward a claim that narratives, symbols, and ideologies that are specifically connected to a certain war/armed conflict can be symbolically uploaded or deterritorialized into the globalized cultural space and downloaded or reterritorialized by different actors in different geographical and cultural spaces. These processes are not linear or mechanical, de- and reterritorialization can happen in some cases while not at all in others. They are also centrifugal – reterritorialization can shape deterritorialization and vice versa.

There are at least six characteristics that can describe conflict clouds: content, functions, material effects, involved actors, evolution over time and centrifugal/centripetal processes (Féron and Voytiv 2022). The content of conflict cloud relates to the global circulation of narratives that are not necessarily created solely by the actors involved in a specific conflict. They can be also co-constructed by other actors that are seemingly unrelated to the specific conflict and can frame discursively the narrative according to their audiences and needs (Benford and Snow 2000). The functions of conflict cloud can be multiple, such as using content narratives to draw a cautionary tale in another country or another conflict, support one’s political affiliation claim by supporting a certain side of the conflict or even associating certain conflict with global values and causes (Féron and Voytiv 2022). These functions can relate to real material effects, for example merchandising (e.g. Che Guevara t-shirts), fundraising and even changes in policies of the countries that are not involved in this specific conflict (e.g. discussing the build-up of military). Thus multiple actors can be involved in these processes horizontally and vertically and shape the conflict cloud with complementing, contradictory and overlapping processes that upload and download the contents of the conflict cloud. They can even facilitate reterritorialization of the conflict into the group-boundary making processes. Group boundary-making processes have been theorized in terms of ethnicity and religion to a larger degree (Wimmer 2008). However, their relational property of incorporating the ideas of what it means to belong to “Us” or “Them”, while also uncovering the boundaries of inclusion within the “Us” and incorporating the contexts of country of origin and country of residence during the war in the “homeland” has not been discussed to a large degree (Voytiv 2021). Clouds therefore evolve and develop asynchronically – some aspects, memories and historical time periods might become more or less relevant depending on all the above discussed features of the cloud. Finally, clouds’ content is not necessarily fed mostly from the location the conflict is taking place, like in the case of Northern Ireland that Féron and Voytiv (2022) discuss.

Many actors can be involved in conflict cloud processes and contribute or challenge conflict de- and reterritorialization. Local populations, fighters, political actors both in the conflict locations and elsewhere, diasporas and many more. Transnational diasporas can become one of the most influential actors in the creation of the conflict cloud content which can determine political processes at global, national, and local levels. Studies in conflict transportation have shown that diasporas can autonomize conflict in their residence settings as well as they can influence the patterns of the conflict in their “homeland”s (Féron and Lefort 2019), sometimes even creating the idea of a “homeland” through conflict autonomization in the countries of residence (Axel 2001). In this process of conflict reterritorialization in the country of residence, diasporas can download different ideologies, accounts of experiences and narratives from the conflict cloud and complement or even modify those with their own experiences in the country of residence that fit the context of country of residence (Andén-Papadopoulos and Pantti 2013). These processes can also be informed by collective memory, both as attached to the idea of “homeland” produced by the “homeland”, through diasporic own memories of exile, as well as experiences of being a diasporic individual in a certain country of residence with specific histories and interconnections with the “homeland” and other diasporas present.

Developed first by Maurice Halbwachs (1992), the notion of collective memory relates to the collective, social aspects of remembering both on the individual level (such as framing person’s own history) and group level (narrating the history of one’s family, community or even nation-state). Remembering is done collectively and uses different symbols and discursive instruments and is influenced by the conditions of the present (ibid). Memory is thus not a stable condition but rather a social process. When it comes to the diasporic setting, collective memory has been studied as one of the key factors of diasporic group mobilization and cohesion (Orjuela 2018; Redclift 2017; Toivanen and Baser 2019). Silences, erasures and forgetting are also part of the memory processes (Karabegović 2019; Müller-Suleymanova 2021) and can constitute a large part of diasporic narratives concerning the conflict in the origin country. Collective beliefs about the past have been shown to directly relate to social action of a certain group and while placed in a certain context can become manifest or latent (Rydgren 2017). The content of the conflict cloud incorporates different collective memories and narratives about the past. The way the group’s past is narrated is not solely created in the location where the conflict took place, but also downloaded and situated within the context of diasporic communities and the transnational dynamics. Memories and specifically narrations of memories concerning conflicts in the “homeland” are also a part of boundary-making processes of groups, including those that are migrant or diasporic (Agnew 2005). Diasporic communities might therefore specifically build up the narratives in conversation with the country of residence, through their own or their close ones’ experiences and through the retelling of the stories from the “homeland” itself.

The concept of conflict clouds when enriched with aspects of memory construction therefore is useful for the attempts to understand the complex processes of diasporic mobilizations as related to the contexts of the transnational space, the “homeland” and the country of residence. It also allows to see how narratives and symbols connected to the armed conflict or war can be claimed, reclaimed, invented, and forgotten in the course of time. Some changes in the narratives that can lead to reimagination of events and their meaning can also be reused and manipulated by different actors such as diaspora, politicians and media often tailored to their specific audiences. We can apply such modelling of conflicts to the case of Russian–Ukrainian war and collective memory in the diaspora setting in Sweden, which I will discuss in the following section.

Swedish context and the Russian–Ukrainian conflict cloud

The full-scale war that displaced millions of people from Ukraine led to a relatively small number¹ – up to around 41,000 (by July 2022) – of refugees fleeing to Sweden under the Temporary Protection Directive (Migrationsverket 2022). Swedish Migration Office predicted this number to rise to up to 80,000 by the end of 2022 (Migrationsverket 2022). Despite this, Russian–Ukrainian war has become a part of many narratives in Sweden. One recent example of this is the relation of Russian aggression to the issues of NATO membership. Sweden has had a long tradition of non-alliance and neutrality (Eklund 2020). However, since the war escalated Sweden is now officially a candidate for the membership. The far-right party Sweden Democrats (SD) focused on the refugee and migration aspect of the war and claimed that migration and asylum-seeking from Ukraine should be allowed since Ukrainians are “culturally close” (GP 2022). However, by the time this paper is written SD pushes for refugees’ return home as soon as possible. A member of the party also publicly mentioned that “anti-Russian propaganda is driven by the same stupid people who introduced vaccine pass” (author’s translation, Expo 2022) – a good example of coalescence of different political agendas around the issue of Russian invasion to drive one’s agenda not only in Sweden but also around other Western countries. The social-liberal party Centerpartiet and conservative Moderaterna claimed on their respective webpages “Ukraine’s cause is ours!” echoing the slogans used in Sweden during the Russia–Finland war in 1939–1940, which relates the war in Ukraine to the historical past of the country and the Nordic region overall. All around Sweden flags, t-shirts and stamps with Ukrainian symbolics could be seen. Ukrainian flags are exhibited on the buildings of restaurants, hotels as well as governmental buildings. All this is especially important in the context of diaspora activism, which can lobby for such support, praise the reception in the country of residence, or alternatively show discontent if such support is not aligned with the diasporas’ perspective. Many other actors abroad can pick up on these and many more narratives to justify their action. Foreign fighters², for example, adhere to the “defense of Europe” or “stopping World War III” narratives also pushed through by the Ukrainian Government (see, for example the creation of the “International legion” within the official military of Ukraine in March 2022), while the Ukrainian diaspora in Sweden and the West is catching up on the anticolonial struggle narrative (VOX Ukraine 2022). Context of the country of residence thus matters for the ways conflict transportation can or can’t occur (Baser 2015) as well as which aspects linked to diasporic collective memory are raised in the times of war in the “homeland”.

For this paper, the theoretical framework of conflict cloud is fruitful in many ways. First, it allows to understand diaspora mobilization, solidarity, memory and boundary-making processes accounting for multiple temporalities and contexts of country of residence, the “homeland” and the transnational or global symbolic space. Second, it allows to see the evolution and change of the conflict narratives as framed by the actors, contexts and time, e.g. diasporic mobilization can follow several temporalities, be connected to different contexts and merge into mobilization depending on all the above. Third, it has a potential to uncover how other conflicts and wars around the world can feed into each other and co-construct narratives, memory and symbols related to the Russian–Ukrainian war, and specifically so in the diaspora setting (e.g. references to the Russo-Finnish war used to mobilize support for Ukraine in Finland and Sweden). Lastly, it is useful for the investigation of the change in boundary making processes in the diaspora allowing for nuance, such as inclusion of memory and narrative framing of reasons and actors in the war (e.g. the formation of the ideas of the enemy and an ally). In the following section, I will specifically discuss how the contexts of “homeland” and country of residence can shape diasporic mobilization that relates to multiple temporalities and redraws group boundaries.

The multiple factors of mobilization

Mobilization due to 2014 annexation of Crimea and following conflict in eastern Ukraine according to previous research might have led to diasporic mobilization and redrawing of group boundary making processes in the diasporic organizational field in Sweden (Voytiv 2019). However, it was the full-scale invasion in February 2022 that has brought up the question of Russian–Ukrainian war to the top of political agenda of every EU country and renewed mobilization and demonstrations both within and outside of the diasporic setting. This study is informed by the interviews taken during the first mobilization due to the conflict in eastern Ukraine and can link the past mobilization with the larger one happening after the full-scale invasion began.

To study how collective memory is used in mobilization, solidarity and group boundary-making work in the diasporic settings, it is important to understand diaspora-building as a processes of claim-making that can be mobilized or fade away depending on the number of interrelated factors (Anthias 1998; Brubaker 2005). Such factors lie at the interrelation between the contexts of “homeland”, country of residence and the global space (Ostergaard-Nielsen 2003). Diaspora also has a significant role in shaping the politics of memory in the “homeland” (Karabegović 2019; Martin 2019; Orjuela 2018). While often understood within the peacemakers/peace-wreckers dichotomy (Smith and Stares 2007), diasporic communities can develop attitudes towards reconciliation in the country of residence (Hall and Kostic 2009) or as Salehyan (2009) investigates, contribute to the transnational insurgent mobilization. However, as Féron and Lefort (2019) show, the relationship between diaspora and conflict is complex and emerges in specific temporalities and contentious spaces. These spaces and temporalities include the responses of the country of residence, “homeland” and the transnational space. They propose to understand the relationship between diaspora and conflict as a set of different configurations rather than fixed categories (Féron and Lefort 2019, 44).

Much research on diasporic activism assumes that diasporas are active in their country of residence towards their “homeland” because they experience greater security and safety than activists “back home” (Demmers 2002). However, not every country of residence is a haven for diasporic individuals. In their study of authoritarian claims and repressions over diaspora, Baser and Ozturk (2020) discuss Turkey’s control and even persecution of anti-regime diasporans – a claim explicitly supported by Turkey’s president Erdogan in his NATO membership ultimatum to Sweden to deport Turkish and Kurdish dissidents living in Sweden. Much research also shows that diaspora can be targeted through online spaces (Jörum Lundgren 2015; Moss 2018; Tenove 2018).

In the specific case of Sweden and its context as the country of residence, it is important to highlight the responses and framing of the Russian–Ukrainian conflict. As stated above, policies and discursive attitudes of the country of residence can significantly shape the opportunities and constraints for diasporic mobilization due to the war in the “homeland”. Sweden has historically provided political and humanitarian support to Ukraine long before 2014, mostly though such organizations as SI Ukraine and SIDA.³ In late 2013, when the Revolution of Dignity (also known as Euromaidan or Maidan Revolution) took place in Ukraine, prominent Swedish politicians and parliamentarians travelled to Kyiv to voice their support. However, very few political figures took part in meetings and demonstrations organized by the Ukrainian diaspora in Sweden. One explanation could be the limited effects of conflict in 2014 on Sweden. There were only moderate numbers of Ukrainian refugees in 2014 (Migrationsverket 2022).

Within the Ukrainian and Russian diasporic communities in Sweden during first stages of the war in 2014–2015, there seemed to be a split by the political attitudes towards the conflict rather than ethnicity or nationality when deciding on collaborations (Voytiv 2019). At that time uncertainty or neutrality when it came to evaluating Russia’s actions could be judged as pro-Russian attitude while being “really” Ukrainian allowed no position of neutrality or uncertainty of being pro-Ukrainian. This was mirrored both in personal relationships and organizational behaviour (Voytiv 2021). Voytiv (2021) shows that the ethnic boundary-making processes of interviewed Ukrainians and Russians from Ukraine tended to include the attitude towards the conflict. In the current full-scale war context, these processes and boundaries may have solidified. In the face of violent massacres of Russia additional narratives, emotions and symbols have emerged in the diaspora, which might have changed the patterns of solidarity.

Ukraine and its communication with the diaspora had been mostly fragmented before the full-scale invasion began. Ukrainian government reached out to diaspora and foreign nationals to a limited degree during 2014––2021.⁴ Diasporic mobilization in the early phase of the conflict tended to be reflexive to the organizational field of Sweden and abroad, with a brief exemption during the Euromaidan when some demonstrations organized by diaspora were streamed on the main square of the Euromaidan in Kyiv. However, on 24th February 2022 Ukrainian Minister of Foreign Affairs addressed Ukrainian diaspora abroad on Twitter (President Zelenskyy has also referred to Ukrainian diaspora in his many speeches to the different world leaders) and asked for help with fighting Russian propaganda online. President Zelenskyy also urged Ukrainians abroad to lobby their governments in countries of residence to provide financial, humanitarian and military assistance to Ukraine – an effort not made during the earlier stages of the conflict.

A recent pre-war study of attitudes of Ukrainians towards Ukrainian diaspora shows that about 30% of Ukrainians believe it is a good idea for Ukraine to support its diaspora and 75% believe that Ukrainian diaspora should be part of Ukrainian diplomacy (MIOK 2022). Many diasporic organizations in Sweden do exactly that. Karabegović (2019) shows that if supported like this by the “homeland”, diaspora can have more uniform memorialization and commemorative practices rather than if it has no institutional backing from the “homeland”. Additionally, despite the fact that Sweden has been showing a lot of support already, diasporas are not only demanding more of such support but also organize “appreciation” events to show gratitude for Sweden’s support.

Finally, the internet has been shown to be one of the sites of diasporization (Brinkerhoff 2009). Euromaidan (2013–2014) as stated before was heavily mediatized. It was tweeted, posted, and streamed on many platforms and averaging almost 300,000 likes on the main Facebook page of Euromaidan at the end of the protests in February 2014 (Barberá and Metzger 2013). Later, with the eruption of full-scale war in 2022, all major national Ukrainian TV channels combined their broadcast and created a united one which they named “United news” (“Yedyni novyny”). They have broadcasted not only on TV but also on YouTube (Biloskurskyy and Sergienko 2022). Many of those views were from abroad (Biloskurskyy and Sergienko 2022). In addition, videos and streams of the military action are available on many platforms such as Telegram and TikTok. Such heavy broadcasting that has been accessible from abroad, allowed many to “witness” both the protests of 2013–2014, conflict in eastern Ukraine and subsequent full-scale invasion. Images, narratives and framings of these broadcasts could become instrumental in framing narratives of the conflict to fit the different audiences home and abroad (Andén-Papadopoulos and Pantti 2013). Modern technology thus can also allow diasporic communities to spread information across different spheres within the country of origin and country of residence and mediate it accordingly to the perceived audience (Boichak and Kumar 2022).

Group boundary-making processes are especially interesting to discuss here, since ideas and narratives connected to the specific location of the war can become deterritorialized (Rabinowitz 2000), or uploaded into the conflict cloud, and then reterritorialized into a specific context or even “translated” into group boundary-making processes. For example, as I previously mentioned, the attitude towards the conflict as showcased by certain behaviour and alliances seemed to have become the leading dimension which defined a boundary between those organizations identifying as Ukrainian and Russian in the organizational diasporic context of Sweden (Voytiv 2019). This signals that during the war, events, narratives and direct messages from the “homeland” might shape diasporic boundary making in the country of residence, while the country of residence’s position on the conflict might be detrimental in shaping the level of intensity of diaspora mobilization (Sökefeld 2006). This is important to keep in mind since in the context of large support to one side of the conflict, other opinions might be less visible. For example, only anonymous accounts of pro-Russian opinions have been mentioned in Swedish media so far. However, this is not to say that pro-Russian opinions do not exist in Sweden. The boundary-making processes can reflect these contexts, memories and narratives from the “homeland” and country of residence and become more or less solidified over the question who belongs and who does not in the solidarity movement, mostly based on the attitude towards the conflict.

Group boundary-making in the diaspora: temporalities and meanings

The most notable and biggest demonstrations in the late 2013 in support of Revolution of Dignity and onwards (for at least until late 2015) in Sweden were organized by the Ukrainian diaspora and Ukrainian students studying in Sweden. Rarely would they be joined by politicians in Sweden and most did not exceed a few hundred people. Many of these people still had family connections in Ukraine, and their support for the Revolution of Dignity spilled into support for Ukraine when Russia annexed Crimea and backed insurgency in eastern Ukraine. This mobilization was partly possible because of the high level of media coverage through digital means coming from Ukraine: streaming of the protests discussed before, and even battles allowed for “witnessing” (Ahmed 2014) and emotional connection to the events and people “back home”. As I stated above, many broadcasters including TV channels and participants of the Revolution used the Internet media to raise awareness about the events among audience abroad. Several of the participants of my study mentioned watching these streams on everyday basis in 2013–2014. Internet technologies also allowed for mobilization in Sweden: groups and events on Facebook allowed people to get to know one another and further mobilize and organize events. One of the participants who was a member of a Ukrainian diasporic organization in 2015 told me that once mobilized, the diaspora successfully lobbied to change of Ukrainian ambassador to Sweden since he was seen as “put there by Yanukovych”.⁵ For many, this mobilization meant re-negotiations of (ethnic) identity and especially so in terms of group boundary-making processes. Attitude towards the conflict in eastern Ukraine became for some participants the key factor in defining oneself as Ukrainian or Russian, as well as defining the others as Ukrainians, Russian-speaking Ukrainians or Russians – a division that would not necessarily have anything to do with the nationality/citizenship of a person in question (Voytiv 2020).

While in general Swedish media were supportive of Ukraine, though with declining coverage over the years, political elites were not always completely explicit about their perspective during the early period of the conflict. For example, there were debates within the Swedish Left about whether Russians are being persecuted by the “Ukrainian Nazis”. Another example is that during one of the big pre-election events in Stockholm in 2016, Ukrainian Youth organization lobbied for every tent to hang a Ukrainian flag. Everyone agreed apart from the far-right Sweden Democrats. These experiences for diasporic mobilization might have signalled the potential support (or lack of it) later on in Sweden overall. Several Russian-speaking participants I interviewed in 2016, told me that after the conflict began, they decided to stop talking in Russian altogether and speak only Ukrainian. The choice to stop using Russian suggests that language was an important marker of group belonging in the beginning of the conflict. Moreover, this active decision also shows how “homeland” politics can “turn” a migrant into a diasporic individual (Féron and Voytiv 2021). Such process of diasporization if amplified by the context of the country of residence, such as presence of other groups with “loud” claims about the conflict or other issues and with general level of (political) involvement in the conflict, as well as the transnational processes, can in their turn lead diasporic individuals to mobilize for their “homeland” (Agnew 2005; Anthias 1998; Féron 2017). On the organizational level, group boundary-making through the attitude towards insurgency in eastern Ukraine and the annexation of Crimea showed a similar pattern with further networked dependencies. For example, in 2015 several of the research participants⁶ mentioned that their organization tried not to raise any “homeland”-related political discussions to avoid any personal conflict.

While the early stages of the conflict might have become reterritorialized into the way some group boundary negotiation has been done, ethnicity seemed to have taken less central role for the study participants (Voytiv 2020). In addition, it was the language used that became an important proxy for group inclusion, especially so with the development of the conflict in eastern Ukraine (since 2014). The concept of a Russian-speaker is in this regard illustrative: a study participant expressed that one can be differentiated as a Ukrainian Russian-speaker or a Russian Russian-speaker, where “Russian” implied a certain (pro-Russian) attitude towards the conflict (Voytiv 2020).

After a relative stability of the conflict until 2021, the deterioration of the situation at the northeastern borders of Ukraine in October 2021–January 2022 was reflected in the diaspora setting in Sweden in a new wave of mobilization that involved organizations that were created during the early stages of conflict. However, many new organizations would also emerge. On the 24th of February, just hours after Russian invasion of Ukraine started, these diasporic organizations together with other non-diasporic organizations mobilized instantaneously and in large numbers. Since this horrible event was both expected and not, organization of the demonstrations to support Ukraine had to be improvised based on available resources. The first big demonstration in Stockholm featured a lot of makeshift banners and posters. One of the biggest banners which said “Stop Putin’s aggression” had a word “aggression” crossed out and in its place the word “war” was written by hand (Voytiv 2022). Some people were holding just A4 papers that they coloured with Ukrainian flag colours where they have written a message of support to Ukraine. Russian flags could also be spotted but only very small ones and all of them had something apologetic or anti-Putin written on them. One such typical message was “I am Russian and I am embarrassed”. Not only diasporic organizations were present at this first demonstration: unions and Swedish political organizations were carrying banners with their symbols. Many of the posters where the same as during the previous mobilization during 2014, specifically a poster with rendered Putin’s and Stalin’s faces. Interestingly, many of the posters would mostly use anti-Putin slogans (e.g. Putin’s war, Putin’s aggression). This might have been the case to create distance between Russia and the war as equalled. Ahmed (2014) specifically writes about the role emotions play in nationalist context, however, what is interesting is that such emotions were associated only with Russia on the posters. The references to emotions were not displayed without mentioning Russia.

Interestingly, despite the fact that Belarus has given Russia access to its territory to advance towards Ukraine, artefacts connected to Belarus were qualitatively different than those to Russia. First, only the red and white striped flags of Belarus which are used by the opposition were present. In contrast to the Russian flags that usually would have a message written on them, oppositional Belarusian flags did not have any markings: no emotional reference or messages denouncing the war, which was evidently implied. The usage of the oppositional flag is of great significance in this regard. It might symbolize opposition to Lukashenka regime. However, he might be seen as a tyrant that has nothing to do with the “people” of Belarus anyway, in contrast to President Putin. Therefore, this might turn oppositional flags into a symbol of allyship with Ukraine and thus does not need a further clarification in the form of slogans referring to emotions of shame. From the first demonstration onward, flags of Georgia were also displayed. It is important to note that while in the beginning of the war Georgian government was very careful with its decision to support Ukraine, civil society in Georgia marched in protest to demand helping Ukraine (RFE/RL, 2022). Such a strong influence from civil society has changed the official position of Georgian government, especially considering the context of the 2008 Russian–Georgian war and possible portrayal of Georgians as victims of the same Russian aggression. Therefore, shared experience and memory of aggression might have made Georgia a close ally in the eyes of those supporting Ukraine at the demonstrations.

A special place in three of the demonstrations I attended was dedicated to the memorialization of the deportation of Crimean Tatars by Stalin in 1944, specifically by singing specially dedicated songs such as Eurovision winner Jamala’s song “1944”. Key traumatic events during the 2022 Russian invasion such as tragedies of Bucha, Mariupol, Mykolaiv and many other towns and cities were mostly commemorated by holding different posters with the names of the cities and organizing flash mobs at the demonstrations. Interestingly if the first wave of mobilization due to the beginning of the conflict in eastern Ukraine in 2014–2015 relied on a lot of memories and narratives from the Revolution of Dignity/Euromaidan as well as recollections of the largest battles in the initial conflict in eastern Ukraine, mobilization due to the eruption of full-scale war in Ukraine seemed to focus mostly on commemoration of tragedies of war, celebration of Ukrainian culture and Holodomor commemoration planned later in November (see more discussion on this in Amiot 2023, this issue). Between March and April 2022, many speakers were invited to the demonstrations, and as I mentioned already a lot of them were representatives of different political parties and members of the Swedish Parliament. They for the most part referred to the suffering of Ukrainians and European support. The notion that Ukraine is fighting for Europe’s future was also raised, reworking the boundary of Europeanness and simultaneously delineating the Other. Several activists from other diasporic communities that are not necessarily sharing the (memory of) the common “enemy” experience were invited. One significant example is the participation of a Kurdish diaspora who emphasized the shared experiences of being refugees in Sweden in their slogans.

Discussion and conclusion

This article attempted to follow the processes of group boundary-making and formation/reframing of collective memory by investigating demonstrations that took place in Sweden amidst the Russian–Ukrainian war. To show solidarity and create distance from the Other (Russia as aggressor), choice of emotions seems to be quite central in the solidarity movement as present at the demonstrations in Stockholm in early 2022. Shame and anger presented on posters at the demonstrations were shown only in connection to Russia during these demonstrations. Some parallels to the conflict in their own “homeland”s have been made by other participants. For example, Georgian diaspora members have presented references to 2008 Russian–Georgian war, while Kurdish diaspora showed slogans and posters emphasizing experiences of refugeeness.

All in all, redrawing of group boundaries implies that shared historical memory of a common enemy no matter the position of the home country’s government is being constructed. Such boundary, as studied in a specific case of the demonstrations as well as study participants interviewed during the conflict in eastern Ukraine, might be drawn along the “attitudes towards the conflict” line but is not limited to it. The renewed mobilization due to the full-scale invasion and specifically the demonstrations I attended did not mention exactly the same issues that the first wave of mobilization in 2014 did. While some historical references overlapped, such as Tatar deportation, comparisons of Putin to Stalin and Hitler, Holodomor, the framing of the memories and common action seems to be divergent. The framing of Russia as a colonial power has become prevalent on the posters and in speeches during only in 2022 (see also Amiot 2023, this issue). This could indicate that the development of the framing of war and the reasons for mobilization depend on the temporalities in which they are developed and can potentially lead to different outcomes.

Interestingly, Belarusian and later also Russian (appeared in the demonstrations not covered in the study period) oppositional flags were present potentially to signal participants’ distancing from the politics of their “homeland”’s regimes. The use of emotions of shame, distorted Russian flags and anti-Putin slogans rather than anti-Russian ones have been one of the main boundary-making artefacts to show solidarity with Ukrainians at the demonstrations. This points to a possibility that instead of ethnic identification that now takes a secondary role, it is the attitude towards the conflict and distancing from Russia that shapes solidarity in the studied demonstrations.

Future research should further study how solidarity develops over time shaped by the contexts of the “homeland” and the country of residence. Interestingly, in the case of diasporic mobilization at Stockholm-based demonstrations, Swedish politicians residing in the city also joined the solidarity with Ukraine movement which was much larger in degree than previously if at all. This might not be the case in other countries or cities where the populations of Ukrainian refugees are larger, such as Poland. Demonstrations in Stockholm under studied period seem to have been inclusive to all who is against Russian invasion, and all who show distance from Russia which might not be the case in other settings. However, these boundaries cannot be considered as solidified due to the limited evidence based on the type of data this article employs.

Ethics statement

Data used for this paper comes from two sources. Interviews analysed were collected as part of a PhD dissertation work that was approved by the Swedish Ethical Review Board in 2016 (dnr 2016/2460-31). Analysis of the artefacts used at the demonstrations did not involve any participants. No names, pictures of people, no personal information of any sort was identified or used. I used only the pictures of slogans and artefacts such as posters and flags themselves. These cannot be traced to any particular person and are never disclosing any personal information.

Acknowledgements

The author is grateful for the helpful comments of the editor of this special issue Dr. Dilyara Müller-Suleymanova, as well as anonymous reviewers’ comments and suggestions. This paper was also inspired by the author’s previous work with Dr. Élise Féron during 2020–2021 within the project “Diasporas and Transportation of Homeland Conflicts: Inter-group Dynamics and Host Country Responses”, funded by the Academy of Finland.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Notes

1 That is if compared to Poland, where up to 3 million refugees arrived in the first months of the invasion (Wojdat et al. 2022).

2 According to some sources, more than 20,000 foreign volunteers have joined Ukrainian military since March 2022, many coming from the Western countries (Guarino 2022).

3 Swedish Institute (SI) is a government agency created to share information about and promote Sweden abroad by offering grants and scholarships to study or work in Sweden. They also provide opportunities for young people in the Baltic region and Global South to visit Sweden for seminars and workshops on democracy, development, entrepreneurship, etc. (www.si.se). SIDA is a government agency with a mission for global development guided by the strategies defined by the government (established every 5 years), mostly focusing on reduction of poverty in the world (www.sida.se).

4 For example, the previous president Poroshenko has thanked for diasporas’ support and aid in the Donbas war during his trip to Germany in 2015 and Canada in 2016.

5 Viktor Yanukovych was the president of Ukraine during the Revolution of Dignity who fled Ukraine in February 2014 which was considered to be the victory of the Revolution.

6 One of them was a member of Kurdish association, one “pan-Slavic” organization and one Ukrainian.