Introduction Victoria Donovan (bio) and Iryna Sklokina (bio) Introduction On 24 March 2021, as we were finalizing the contributions to this collection, Oleksiy Danilov, the secretary of Ukraine's Council for National Security and Defense, announced that Donbas no longer existed: "The word 'Donbas' is not written in any of our state's regulatory or legal documents. This is a definition that the Russian Federation has imposed upon us: 'the Donbas people,' 'the choice of Donbas,' 'Donbas will not be brought to its knees.' We need to abide carefully by our regulatory and legal documentation.… There are specific names for the territories of the Donetsk and Luhansk oblasts, no Donbas of any kind exists, it is very dangerous when we start to say these things."1 The announcement did not come out of the blue. It was rather the culmination of recent public debate concerning the political implications and utility of the term in light of the ongoing, Russia-backed violence in the Ukrainian East.2 Indeed, already in 2014, a Russian-speaking writer and historian from Donetsk, Olena Stiazhkina, voiced her opinion that "Donbas does not exist. There will be just Ukraine or nothing … the word Donbas does not define anything." In Stiazhkina's opinion, the very notion of "Donbas" was rooted in the Stalinist discourse of the region, which focused on coal and steel and no longer corresponded to the region's contemporary realities. When, following the outbreak of war in the East in 2014, the term began to be enthusiastically used in separatist rhetoric, opinions such as Stiazhkina's found more traction among the Ukrainian population. Danilov's 2021 announcement was thus the continuation and conclusion of these ongoing socio-symbolic debates. From 2015, the Ukrainian government has implemented a policy of "decommunization," prohibiting the use of Soviet symbols, toponymy, and monumental [End Page 1] objects in public spaces.3 This policy has been linked by public figures and scholars in Ukraine with the need to decolonize cultural memory, to delink contemporary Ukrainian culture from the oppressive influence of the Soviet cultural and symbolic infrastructure.4 Within this discussion, the politics of Donbas toponymy has drawn particular attention. Critics argue that the term Donbas, a contraction of "Donetsk Coal Basin" (Donetskii kamennougol´nyi bassein), manifests an extractivist attitude to the region's human and environmental resources and carries the taint of Soviet political violence. At the exhibition Rebellious Gene, which opened at the displaced Donetsk Museum of Local History in Kramatorsk in November 2020, for example, curators drew critical attention to the perceived colonial origins of the signifier.5 Instead of Donbas, the curators argued for the use of alternative, more locally rooted designators, such as "Donechchyna" and "Luhanshchyna." This practice was presented by the organizers as a means to challenge historic tendencies to reduce the cultural meaning of the region to merely its extractable mineral resources. Donbas is certainly a vexed territorial signifier whose imperial origins, extractivist implications, and semiotic transformations deserve to be scrutinized critically. It is also a term with a range of resonances among communities living in the region. Following Danilov's announcement, media outlets across Ukraine ran editorials and expert discussions exploring the public reception of the minister's proposal. Iryna Sklokina (coeditor of this collection) was invited to speak at one such event on "Suspilne. Donbas" radio station, where her opinions were considered alongside those of community residents, piped into the studio live and in prerecorded form. Local reactions to the announcement differed dramatically: while "Donbas" was rejected as a viable form of self-designation in Mariupol, a huge industrial center on the Azov Sea that has traditionally competed for economic prominence with Donetsk, responses were more ambiguous in Sloviansk, at the region's northern administrative border, where no coal has ever been mined and picturesque local landscapes around the Donets River are more reminiscent of nearby, rustic "Slobozhanshchyna." Indeed, the radio host even commented (ironically, it would appear) that the radio station's name, which translates as "Public. Donbas," had [End Page 2] been thrown into doubt and should perhaps be changed in accordance with Danilov's trendsetting statement. This issue explores the cultural construction of Donbas through word, image...
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