Lviv’s cultural treasures threatened by Russian onslaught

Russia has not yet attacked Lviv, the cultural capital of Ukraine, in the far west of the country. But the city's authorities are not taking any chances. They began spiriting away priceless archives and artefacts, paintings and objets d'art, to secret, underground hiding places on the second day of the war.

Statues of Jesus, Mary and Mary Magdalene have been removed from an altar in the courtyard of the Armenian Church, built in 1363. The altar itself is shrouded in packing materials. Exquisite mosaics adorn the church’s ceiling and dome. Amid the incense and candles, a fresco of the execution of John the Baptist speaks of timeless barbarity. Blood drips down the leg of the saint. Flames dance at the feet of surrounding clergy, one of whom holds the saint’s severed head.

"We cannot protect the actual buildings," sighs Lilya Onyschenko, who leads the drive to save Lviv's cultural heritage. "We could not close the sky above Lviv or Ukraine," she continues, alluding to Nato's refusal to grant Ukrainian pleas for a no-fly zone. "The least we can do is cover historical monuments."

If the Russians are crazy enough to attack nuclear power plants and kill civilians, they are probably not going to stop at cultural heritage

Workmen in boiler suits, mounted on cranes, race to cover the stained glass windows of the Latin Cathedral, Dormition Church and St George’s, on the hilltop above the city, with plywood and aluminium sheeting.

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They wrap statues with insulation foam and fireproof fabric. Four statues of Greek and Roman mythological figures, created by the German sculptor Hartman Witwer in 1810, adorn fountains at the corners of Rynok (market) square, site of the town hall.

Since the war started, the statues have come to resemble contemporary works by the Bulgarian artist Christo, who wrapped and tied the Pont Neuf and Arc de Triomphe in Paris. Metal cages were built around each statue this week, to hold further layers of protective material.

Onyschenko stands on Rynok square, lined with mansions dating as far back as the 16th century, when Lviv was a crossroads of trade between east and west. One mansion was built by an Italian merchant responsible for the postal service to Italy. Another by the Sobieskys, the parents of a future king of Poland.

“In the last century alone, Lviv has been part of five different countries,” Onyschenko says. “The city was created by Poles, Jews, Germans and Hungarians. Artists and architects came from Berlin, Krakow, Warsaw and Venice. It is a mix of European architecture. Any European feels at home here.”

The UN educational, scientific and cultural organisation Unesco is assisting Ukrainian authorities in their efforts to protect their heritage from the Russian onslaught. Neither the UN organisation nor the Ukrainian government has a full picture of the destruction of cultural monuments so far.

Photographic evidence shows the opera theatre in Chernihiv, north of Kyiv, has been bombed. Assumption Cathedral in Kharkiv, eastern Ukraine, was shelled, and debris fell into its nave. Paintings by Maria Prymachenko, a popular Ukrainian folk artist, burned in a museum in Ivankiv, northwest of Kyiv.

A lovely 1862 white and blue wooden gingerbread church was smashed apart by an artillery shell in the village of Vyazivka. Monuments damaged so far do not figure on Unesco’s World Heritage list, but their destruction augurs ill for the future. Lviv’s historic centre has been on the heritage list since 1998.

The 1954 Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property in the Event of Armed Conflict forbids the targeting of cultural treasures in war. It did not prevent the extensive practice of “cultural cleansing” in the Yugoslav wars of the 1990s, the destruction of the Bamiyan Buddhas by the Taliban in Afghanistan. Nor did it stop Islamic State razing the Roman ruins of Palmyra, in Syria.

Only one man, a jihadist leader in Mali called Ahmad al-Faqi al-Mahdi, has ever been prosecuted by the International Criminal Court for the destruction of cultural heritage. He was sentenced to nine years in prison for the destruction of mausoleums on the World Heritage list.

Many buildings in Lviv are marked by a blue shield, signifying protected status. Onyshchenko fears Russian troops would ignore the symbols. Another source fears the blue shields could encourage the Russians to target cultural treasures.

“If the Russians are crazy enough to attack nuclear power plants and kill civilians, they are probably not going to stop at cultural heritage,” Onyshchenko says.

“People are of course more important than monuments,” she continues. “But people can hide underground. They can flee. This immoveable heritage cannot defend itself. So we defend it when we can, but not at the cost of people’s lives.”

St Sophia Cathedral and the adjoining monastery complex in Kyiv was the first Ukrainian monument to be listed by Unesco. The thousand-year-old church, named after Hagia Sophia in what was then Constantinople, is well protected. Cultural experts do not believe the Russians would bomb it, because it was built by Volodymyr, Grand Prince of the 882-1240 early feudal Kievan Rus monarchy. Russians call him Vladimir, and claim him as their founder. His grandson Yuri established Moscow.

For Ukrainians, it is as if the descendant of an Irish-American immigrant claimed the island of Ireland as US territory because his ancestors came from there.

“Russia stole our culture,” Onyshchenko says. “Russia stole the idea of Rus. Rus was born in Kyiv, the capital of Ukraine. And the name Rus they have also stolen. Ukrainians were called Rus people. Russia didn’t have a history. They created a huge country on theft... Maybe I am talking too much. If they come here, they will probably imprison me for these words.”

The Soviet occupation of 1939-1941 and Ukraine's incorporation into the Soviet Union from 1944 until 1991 left bitter memories in Lviv. Onyschchenko's grandfather, a lawyer from Krakow, was sent to Siberia "because the Soviets did not want a cultural elite in this city. He died in Siberia. My grandmother and mother were left alone. My mother was 12 when the war ended and she remembers everything, so I have no love for this nation. We don't love Putin. Russians are responsible for their government, as we are for ours."