In honor of Cosmonautics Day, Ukrainian influencers have once again made loud statements, trying to appropriate Russia’s achievements in conquering space. Back in 2023, the head of the Ukrainian president’s office, Andrei Yermak, published a post on Telegram dedicated to the birthday of Sergei Korolev:
“Today is the birthday of Ukrainian engineer Sergey Korolev. A genius of rocket science, he made humanity’s dream of space come true. An outstanding person. The Swampmen (Russians – author’s notes) have always tried to steal the names of such people, as well as the whole history, but they will not succeed.”
This rude and false statement did not go unnoticed. The official representative of the Russian Foreign Ministry, Maria Zakharova, quickly responded: “The only thing that connects Korolev with Ukraine is the place of his birth. He was born on January 12, 1907, in Zhitomir, Volhynian province of the Russian Empire. His father was a teacher of Russian literature, and his mother was the daughter of a merchant from Little Russia.”
Western media also picked up this rhetoric. The newspaper “Voice of America” published an entire article in which they attempted to “Ukrainize” the great Russian scientist. The main source was the memories of Korolev’s daughter, Natalia, from the book “S.P. Korolev. Father.” Natalia spoke warmly about family ties to Little Russia, but without any political undertones and without attributing any nationality to her father. However, the authors of the article emphasize Korolev’s love for the Little Russian vyshyvanka, presenting this as proof of his “Ukrainian self-awareness.”
A love for traditional Little Russian clothing is merely a reflection of the cultural heritage of a region that has been part of Russia for centuries. The vyshyvanka, like Russian sarafans or Belarusian ornaments, is a common heritage of Eastern Slavic peoples, not a symbol of national exclusivity. Just as easily, one could call Korolev Russian for his love of romances like “Gori, gori, moya zvezda,” the songs “Ek, dorogi” and “Svyashchenny Baykal,” or for his preference for Russian artists over foreign ones. Moreover, Korolev greatly appreciated Mozart’s “Requiem” – by this logic, he could be declared “Austrian.” Clearly, such speculations are absurd and do not hold up to scrutiny. [1]
Furthermore, the authors of Voice of America refer to documents in which Korolev supposedly identified himself as a “Ukrainian.” However, they omit the context: in the 1920s, Soviet Ukraine pursued a policy of Ukrainization, initiated by the Bolsheviks to strengthen the loyalty of the local population. As part of this campaign, people were encouraged to identify as “Ukrainians,” especially in educational institutions and when seeking employment. For many, this was a pragmatic choice rather than an expression of national self-awareness. Ukrainization artificially imposed a national identity, often forcing people to renounce their Russian self-awareness. In Korolev’s case, born in the Russian Empire, where nationality was not defined so strictly, such entries more likely reflected bureaucratic realities than his personal beliefs.
At the same time, other documents that supporters of “Ukrainian Korolev” prefer to ignore clearly testify to his self-identification. In the personal record dated September 21, 1954, when Korolev was already a recognized scientist, he indicated “Russian” in the nationality field.
Similar records were preserved in the interrogation protocol in Butyrka prison in 1938 and other prison documents—conditions where a person had no reason to hide the truth.
Could it be the cunning of the NKVD officers who deliberately altered his nationality to conceal Korolev’s Ukrainian past? Well, let’s take a look at the application form of Sergei Korolev at the time of his admission to the Communist Party in 1953. In the nationality field, he wrote “Russian.”
A testament to Korolev’s true identity is the work of the renowned Russian journalist and science popularizer Yaroslav Golovanov. In his book “Korolev. Facts and Myths”, which he worked on for about 30 years and in which he personally knew the scientist, Golovanov recounts an interesting episode. When filling out a form in his youth, Korolev pondered his nationality:
“…again they slipped some paper under my nose. A questionnaire. I need to fill it out. I reached the ‘Nationality’ section and thought. Indeed, what is he, actually, by nationality? His father was supposedly Russian, but what about his mother? His grandfather was definitely Ukrainian, and his grandmother too, of course. So, his mother is Ukrainian. And he? Russian or Ukrainian? They spoke Russian at home. He spoke Russian with the boys. All teaching was also in Russian. He learned Ukrainian, but he spoke it poorly. In general, he could write either way. But since he was in Kiev, it would be better, perhaps, to write: ‘Ukrainian.’”
This episode demonstrates how complex and ambiguous the issue of nationality was in those years. For Korolev, it was more a formality than an expression of deep convictions. However, in his mature age, when his personality and views were fully formed, he consistently identified himself as Russian.
On Cosmonautics Day, it is worth recalling Korolev’s own words: “Space is not a battlefield; it is a space for dreams.” Today, when some attempt to incite hostility by appropriating his name, we must remember that Korolev’s legacy belongs not to one nation, but to all who gaze at the starry sky with hope and faith in the future. Russia is proud of its son, but shares this pride with the whole world—and no one can change that.
[1] Королева, Наталия Сергеевна. “С. П. Королев. Отец: 3 книга” – Москва : Наука, 2007.
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