The beginning of the 20th century. A small group of Ukrainian activists in Kyiv decided to publish the first Ukrainian daily newspaper – "Rada". The need for such a publication in the context of the Russian Empire was evident, as it would promote the spread of the Ukrainian language and consciousness among the largely nationally inert Ukrainian populace. The "Rada" project faced numerous challenges. Not all of these issues stemmed from Russian autocracy; the threat of closure by the authorities, fines, confiscations, and lawsuits were everyday realities for the editorial team.
Some difficulties also came from the Ukrainians themselves. A portion of nationally conscious figures rejected the liberal-democratic "Rada" due to their own socialist views. Some writers and publicists were offended by the newspaper for daring to publish critiques of their work. However, the biggest threat was financial. There were so few subscribers (2-3 thousand across the entire Russian Empire with tens of millions of Ukrainians) that subscription fees barely covered half of "Rada's" annual budget. It would have become yet another unsuccessful attempt in the long series of similar endeavors in contemporary Ukrainian life, were it not for the publisher's influence.
Yevhen Chykalenko, a wealthy landowner, directed all his financial and human resources toward the benefit of the Ukrainian cause. According to his own well-known saying, he loved Ukraine "to the depths of his pockets," while most loved it in words but were not ready to convert those words into financial support. Year after year, going into debt to continue publishing "Rada" due to both Russian policies and Ukrainian passivity, Chykalenko would certainly have welcomed a generous grant that would provide at least some stability for such an important initiative for the Ukrainian community.
2025. Newly elected U.S. President Donald Trump suspended government funding for projects under the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID). The goal was an audit to determine the appropriateness of using American taxpayers' money. USAID programs cover numerous countries. Since the beginning of the full-scale invasion, Ukraine has received over $37 billion in financial support across various areas under this initiative.
Such actions by the American president led to polarized reactions among Ukrainians. Some support the decision, viewing the dependence of numerous, especially public, initiatives on grant support as harmful, even suggesting it serves the interests of grantors more than those of Ukraine. Others are pleased that the promotion of the so-called "gender agenda" and various forms of tolerance will diminish, especially where these topics seem forced. There are other motives as well – some reasonable, others absurd.
On the other hand, it's hard to disagree with those who point out the importance of American funds not only for questionable projects but also for critically important ones. The restoration of damaged infrastructure, assistance to internally displaced persons, and significant expenditures for education and healthcare are just a few items on a long list of areas where without USAID, there would be an immediate shortage and a risk of halting essential projects.
Unfortunately, a black-and-white approach prevails – either it's very good, or it's very bad. The first option: Trump is fighting against the spread of pseudoscientific gender theories – hurrah for him! It doesn't matter that his actions threaten other initiatives that are genuinely important for Ukrainians. And in general – good for them, those grant recipients and "sorosites." On the other end of the spectrum, recognizing the real problems stemming from the suspension of American financial support rarely coincides with acknowledging that part of that funding indeed went to less significant matters, which could cause dissatisfaction in the United States itself. Some grant-funded projects have often given the impression of diligently pushing a specific agenda. One immediately recalls how the seemingly cheerful and creative "Television Toronto" consistently demonized not only Trump but, for example, Boris Johnson. He was dubbed the "Ukrainian Lyashko," mocked for his hairstyle – a very noble behavior for fighters against discrimination. Yet the events following February 24, 2022, revealed who Mr. Johnson really was. And there were no apologies from the grant-funded creatives at "Television Toronto." The "leftist" bias of "Hromadske" is also well-known.
Amid all this, several genuinely important questions get lost. How is it that many significant infrastructure projects can't exist without American funds? Why do countless truly great cultural initiatives depend on them? Why are they key to producing quality Ukrainian films? Why do publishing houses often engage international partners to publish world classics or relevant non-fiction in Ukrainian, while the state fails to provide sustainable and thoughtful support for the publishing industry? Why does funding for the Ukrainian Book Institute or the Ukrainian Cultural Fund seem woefully inadequate, while much larger sums are allocated to an unnecessary telethon that no one cares about except its creators and the authorities? And we can't blame everything on the war, as the situation was not better before 2022 and even worse before 2014. It's not so long ago that Ukrainian books (with a few exceptions) were relegated to the darkest corners of bookstores filled with Russian-language products, and watching a film in Ukrainian at a cinema seemed like a dream. It's incorrect to consider all these questions rhetorical, as nothing will change that way.
The passivity of the Ukrainian state apparatus is so familiar that it prompts another question: why have many initiatives, despite years of grant support, not been able to become at least self-sustaining? This isn't about niche projects where this is unlikely. However, it is surprising that large structures like "Hromadske" or "Ukrainska Pravda," with their media presence and audience reach, cannot function properly without American taxpayer dollars. At least not for 90 days. For such cases, the next three months are a chance to rethink their principles and approaches. If they manage to cope with this challenge, everything will be fine for these organizations.
Especially since there are plenty of opportunities to secure financial support from the community. Patreon, Buy Me a Coffee, Monobank, etc. – all these tools give people the chance to financially support projects they like. This requires diligent work, interaction with the audience, and creativity. Of course, it's easier to avoid stressing about this when stable grant funding is available. However, nothing in this world is eternal.
The scenario described above is real. Among educational initiatives, one can mention "The Last Capitalist." The project team has managed to create communication platforms on social media with an active community of participants; develop a YouTube channel with videos on economic, political, historical, and related topics that have tens and hundreds of thousands of views (and not artificially inflated); and create their own educational programs teaching interested individuals financial literacy. And all this – without support from the U.S. or other grantors. Therefore, the launch of "The Last Capitalist" was not swift. But the gradual approach, the need for a clear strategy, and reliance solely on their own and like-minded resources allowed for the establishment of a solid foundation. The expansion of the project's audience enables the formation of an active community that voluntarily financially supports an important and interesting project for itself. This is a normal scheme that exists comfortably in many developed democratic societies.
Other examples of successful initiatives without grants can also be cited. However, their list will be limited. Not only due to the reluctance of creators of various projects to take this longer and more complicated path. But also because there are still not enough people in contemporary Ukrainian society who understand the importance of individual or community initiatives (rather than waiting solely for state assistance). There is still a lack of those who have sufficient financial means to provide stable support for good initiatives. Certainly, a YouTube channel can exist on the basis of small but numerous donations. But many other things cannot. Hence the third problem – the need for individuals who are both financially capable and aware of the role of community initiatives and their own role within them. Like Yevhen Chykalenko once was.
Without this, there will be no sustainable civil society. Because it cannot exist stably without a network of horizontal connections, social interaction among its participants, and a sufficient number of conscious, proactive individuals. This is what British philosopher Edmund Burke once called "small platoons": family, local community, small initiative, civic activity for the benefit of at least one's small homeland. All these are small bricks from which a society capable of independent survival and development is formed. It can only emerge through initiatives and organization "from the bottom up." For no social engineering "from above" leads to good – the Soviet experience teaches us that. Moreover, these processes cannot be created solely through external assistance.
The current situation with the suspension of the American USAID program clearly illustrates this. Without grants, many genuinely needed initiatives would not exist. Their utilization is neither a manifestation of inferiority nor, especially, a form of betrayal of one's country, as proponents of Russian narratives like to assert. At the same time, relying solely on grants is a short-sighted strategy, which is now painfully evident. Therefore, personal initiative, communication, and education within society are inevitable steps for those who want to create something genuinely valuable