Andrii Smytsniuk, an associate professor of Ukrainian studies at the University of Cambridge, reflects on recent events in Ukraine in connection to Penn, where he was a Fulbright Scholar during the 2018-19 academic year.
Credit: Derek Wong
On February 28, much like many Ukrainians globally, I watched in disbelief as the man once termed “the leader of the free world” reprimanded the individual responsible for its military defense. This disgraceful exchange aside, President Donald Trump and I share a common bond: our time at the University of Pennsylvania. He pursued his undergraduate studies there while I experienced transformative growth as a Fulbright Scholar.
For numerous friends back in Ukraine, Penn was a lesser-known entity, so I found myself explaining its significance as the alma mater of both the former and future presidents, as well as Elon Musk. Reactions varied from intrigue to disappointment, yet they all acknowledged that the university is renowned for molding future leaders. Watching these prominent figures display open disdain towards my homeland triggers a sense of embarrassment, a sentiment echoed by many fellow Penn alumni.
Pursuing economics at a school attended by Trump inevitably spurred discussions about what it means to be a Penn student. What were students truly learning there? What values would they carry into the world upon graduation? Would I also be influenced by the same principles? What core values does the university champion, and do its graduates genuinely reflect them?
As an exchange student, I often felt uncertain about Penn’s fundamental values. My time there was relatively short, and now, residing across continents and teaching abroad, my perspective is even more detached. While at Penn, there was a palpable negativity surrounding its identity as the “Social Ivy” and the perception of language studies as merely a means to enhance GPA—a viewpoint held by many students—there were many refreshing aspects as well. Coming from Europe, I was intrigued by the relaxed approach to dress codes; students attended lectures in flip-flops and sweatpants, yet that did not detract from the validity of their academic arguments presented in class.
Discussions about Ukraine were seldom featured in courses like economics and computer science, and being from a nation unfamiliar to many of my classmates, I sought out a symbol of connection—a striking statue of King Solomon by the Ukrainian cubist sculptor Alexander Archipenko, situated near the Van Pelt-Dietrich Library. King Solomon, known for his wisdom, made the legendary decision to resolve a dispute over a child’s parentage by suggesting the child be split in half. The true mother, who pleaded for her child’s safety over her own desires, was identified through this test. This parable echoes Trump’s dealings with Zelensky—where real choices seem to be the preservation of national integrity at all costs or its disintegration. Unfortunately, Trump has historically lacked the wisdom and compassion expected from a leader, particularly given his vendetta against Zelensky over the latter’s refusal to engage in Trump’s attempts to manipulate Biden, a scenario that led to Trump’s impeachment. True wisdom, similar to that of Solomon, is not merely about intelligence or swift conflict resolution, but is deeply rooted in the application of such intelligence to achieve justice and goodness. It is precisely this type of wisdom that seems absent in the relationship between a Penn graduate in the Oval Office and Ukraine.
Granted, universities cannot be blamed for the actions of every alumnus, and Trump’s stance towards higher education does little to aid Penn’s reputation. Nonetheless, the university could enhance its academic focus on Ukraine. During my tenure, the Slavic Languages Department exhibited an ambiguous stance. On one hand, it invited me to teach Ukrainian; on the other, it changed its name to reflect a more Russian-oriented curriculum. While Russian is undoubtedly the most studied language, emphasizing it exclusively among Eastern European languages risks marginalizing others. Penn should allocate the same academic resources towards Ukrainian studies as it does for Russian studies, enabling students to major in Ukraine’s rich academic context.
Ultimately, I’ve resolved to alter how I discuss my experience at Penn. I will no longer start conversations with my Ukrainian friends by highlighting its most notable graduates. In fact, I might choose not to mention it at all. The apprehension stemming from knowing I learned in the same institution as those who now display blatant disregard for justice and wisdom—values that should inherently define both a university and its leaders—is significant. Penn must reflect on its global role and the values it aims to instill in its students during their formative years. Archipenko’s depiction of Solomon continues to watch over the library. What judgment would he cast based on what he witnesses?
ANDRII SMYTSNIUK serves as an associate professor of Ukrainian studies at the University of Cambridge and was a Fulbright Scholar at Penn during the 2018-19 academic year. He can be reached at [email protected].
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