MOROZ (LEVTEROVA), RAISA VASYLIVNA (b. April 1, 1937, in the village of Velykyi Yanisol, now the settlement of Velyka Novosilka, Donetsk Oblast).
Wife of a political prisoner, dissident. She worked as a teacher in Volyn, and later as a German language instructor at the Ivano-Frankivsk Pedagogical Institute. In exile (from 1979), she was a radio journalist and librarian.
She was born in the Greek village of Velykyi Yanisol to Vasyl Ivanovych Levterov (original family name Lefteris) and Yevdokiya Ivanivna Chelakh. Their ancestors were forcibly resettled from Crimea by the tsarist government in 1778. The Greek language was spoken at home (the Rumeíka dialect of Modern Greek, self-named *urmeík glosa*). Her mother also knew the Tatar language, as did many Greeks in the village. She had completed 6 grades of a Russian-language school. Her father, a collective farm accountant with a fourth-grade education, was a non-party member but a communist in worldview, an avid reader of Russian newspapers and books. He was mobilized for the war and returned from a labor army in 1943, extremely emaciated, and nearly died. He was killed in a car accident in 1948.
Since Greek schools, like those of other national minorities in Ukraine, had been liquidated back in 1937-38, Raisa studied at a Russian school, which children from neighboring Ukrainian villages also attended. The children communicated mostly in Russian. The teachers, who were mostly Greek, urged parents to speak Russian with their children as well. Raisa was an active Komsomol member: she designed wall newspapers, participated in amateur arts, and in sports competitions, although she grew up in dire poverty and on unpaid collective farm labor.
After finishing tenth grade in 1955 with a silver medal, Raisa entered the Romano-Germanic philology department at Lviv University, because her older sister, Valentyna, worked as an agronomist in the nearby town of Mykolaiv and could help her. Ukrainian was the predominant language at the university and in the dormitory, so Raisa quickly assimilated into Ukrainian culture, especially after meeting Valentyn MOROZ, a history student two years her senior. She married him in June 1958. That year, he completed his studies and began teaching in Volyn.
In 1960, with a diploma as a German language teacher, Raisa found a job at the school for working youth in the settlement of Maryanivka, Horokhiv Raion, where she worked with her husband for 4 years. In January 1962, their son was born, also named Valentyn. Her husband was preparing his dissertation. The couple traveled to Lviv for Shevchenko evenings. This was unusual behavior for rural teachers. Furthermore, MOROZ had a "nationalist" file trailing him since his student days because of the "inconvenient" questions he asked his instructors. When the history teacher delivered a lecture in the village about Taras Shevchenko, the label of "nationalist" was firmly attached to him.
In the winter of 1964, V. MOROZ began working at the Lutsk Pedagogical Institute, from where, in May of that year, he first brought his wife *samvydav* literature: poems by V. SYMONENKO, I. DRACH, M. Vingranovsky, and L. KOSTENKO. Raisa copied some of them into her notebook. Soon, Raisa and their son also moved to Lutsk. They attended the Poetry Club, organizing poetry evenings led by literature instructor Dmytro IVASHCHENKO. As it turned out later, KGB agents monitored these evenings, took photographs, and labeled them "nationalist gatherings." V. MOROZ was not confirmed as a lecturer at the Lutsk Pedagogical Institute for this very reason. In the autumn of 1964, the couple moved to Ivano-Frankivsk, where both became instructors at the pedagogical institute. Here, their circle of like-minded people expanded: historian Petro ARSENYCH, poetess Mariya Vlad, and former underground members Lyuba LEMYK and Oksana POPOVYCH.
Here, V. MOROZ collected many pre-Soviet publications, including the works of Dmytro Dontsov, Volodymyr Vynnychenko, and the *Chronicle of the Chervona Kalyna*, and he read and shared with others a foreign edition of Ivan Koshelivets’s work, *Ukrainian Literature in the Moscow Noose*. In the summer of 1965, Mykhailo HORYN arrived from Lviv and told Raisa that arrests of the nationally conscious intelligentsia were being prepared. She destroyed the transcribed poems, but V. MOROZ did not hide any of the literature. On August 25, 1965, a wave of arrests began across Ukraine. In the morning of September 1, three KGB agents conducted a search at the Moroz home, confiscated the mentioned literature, and arrested V. MOROZ. He was accused of conducting anti-Soviet agitation and propaganda (Article 62, Part 1 of the Criminal Code of the Ukrainian SSR).
The investigation was conducted in Lutsk. The wives and friends of the arrested were fired from their jobs. Raisa was not fired because they knew of some tension in the family and hoped to persuade her to get a divorce, which would have been a more painful blow to the prisoner. The rector of the pedagogical institute advised her: “I believe it would be better for you to get a divorce and raise your son on your own.” The director of the ethnographic museum, Synytsia, the wife of a KGB agent, presented herself as an example: when her first husband was convicted “for politics,” she divorced him. But the “Ukrainian bourgeois nationalist” of Greek descent did not take the expected steps. She was often summoned for interrogations. Investigator Kolchyk was particularly zealous. A native of the Donetsk region, he boasted of having a Greek grandmother and tried to treat Moroz with familiarity, as if they were compatriots. On January 20, 1966, V. MOROZ was sentenced by the Volyn Regional Court to 4 years of imprisonment in strict-regime camps; his accomplice, D. IVASHCHENKO, received 2 years. In the summer, Moroz and her son had their first and last three-day visit with her husband at the camp in the village of Sosnovka (Mordovia).
He was deprived of the next visit, for which she had traveled to the village of Ozerne, as was M. HORYN, whose wife Olga had also just arrived. On July 18, 1967, they were transferred to Vladimir Prison. In the spring of 1966, Lyuba LEMYK and Oksana POPOVYCH gave Moroz the address of the SVITLYCHNYs, with whom she soon became friends, and through them, she met Mykhailyna KOTSYUBYNSKA, Halyna Sevruk, Yevhen SVERSTYUK, Alla HORSKA, and Vyacheslav CHORNOVIL. She followed their example of civic conduct: as a sign of solidarity with the prisoners of conscience on January 14, 1975, she sat with Lyuba LEMYK outside the courthouse where a trial against the disabled Oksana POPOVYCH was taking place. She traveled to the trial of Ihor KALYNETS in Lviv to support his mother, Zenoviya, and sat with her and a few female friends in the courthouse corridor, as no one was allowed into the trial. At the request of Vyacheslav CHORNOVIL, Moroz provided materials about her husband for his book *Woe from Wit*. She also met and befriended Olena ANTONIV.
Her travels in 1968 with the SVITLYCHNYs and other friends to the Carpathians, and caroling in Lviv in 1972, were unforgettable experiences. In this way, she “was fortunate to meet a group of honest and brave people who were not afraid to go against the wind, defending their views and convictions in inhumane living conditions. They became my friends,” Moroz would later write. In September 1967, a second criminal case was opened against V. MOROZ for his essay *Report from the Beria Reserve*. The investigation in Kyiv was conducted by investigator Kolchyk. He again played the role of a kind “compatriot,” accepted unlimited parcels, granted visits, and on April 1, 1969, said that he had closed the case “for lack of proof of authorship,” hoping, as Moroz believes, that V. MOROZ would write something else upon his release that could be used to prosecute him.
Before her husband’s release, the rector of the pedagogical institute demanded that she vacate the dormitory room where she lived with her son, but later “changed his mind”: they moved out the neighboring room and installed an eavesdropper through it. The 9 months of freedom were filled with conflicts, yet it never occurred to Moroz to renounce her husband in his time of trouble: “…to leave him meant to turn all my friends against me… It seemed to me that I had only two choices: either with them or with their enemies,” she would later write. On Easter, April 26, 1970, Moroz was deliberately sent to Kosiv. From there, she walked to the village of Kosmach, where Vasyl ROMANYUK was the pastor of the church. She arrived there in the evening and learned that the school director and two district committee workers had tried to detain V. MOROZ there, but the people had protected him.
Returning home the next morning, Moroz noticed that someone had been in her room. She told her husband, but he, having arrived late and tired, went to sleep. In the morning, KGB agents came with a search warrant and confiscated all three of his new articles—*Chronicle of Resistance*, *Amid the Snows*, and *Moses and Dathan*—a satire, *I Saw Muhammad*, letters from Kyivans, and poems. The institute's rector received a denunciation from the head of the Kosmach village council, claiming that Moroz had resisted the police and shouted—he had mistaken her for another person. The scenario of firing her for inappropriate behavior failed. Then they initiated a competition to fill her position, but even that was successfully postponed for a year. V. MOROZ was arrested for the second time on June 1, 1970. His wife was once again, “without asking, thrown by fate into that human rights movement.”
She was summoned for interrogation daily. They took her brother Ivan from collective farm construction work in the Donetsk region and brought him to Ivano-Frankivsk to persuade his sister, threatening that she would be arrested if she did not change her behavior. Her first complaint-petition, addressed to P. Yu. Shelest, was written by V. CHORNOVIL; she copied it, signed it, and sent it. At his request, she traveled to Kyiv to ask Borys ANTONENKO-DAVYDOVYCH to retract his previous testimony. At the trial, he, V. CHORNOVIL, and I. DZYUBA refused to testify, protesting the closed trial. This trial (November 17-18, 1970) was closed. Friends stood outside the door. V. MOROZ was sentenced to 6 years of prison, 3 years of special-regime camp, 5 years of exile, and was declared an especially dangerous recidivist. The closed trial and such a harsh punishment provoked a sharp negative reaction not only in Ukraine but also abroad.
In late July 1971, Moroz went with her son for a short visit (across a table) to Vladimir Prison. They were accompanied by N. STROKATA, who happened to be in Moscow at the time. She introduced Moroz to Lyudmila ALEKSEYEVA, who in turn introduced her to Andrei SAKHAROV and Valery Chalidze, which later played a crucial role in the release of V. MOROZ. In prison, they were required to speak in the “universally understood language.” Moroz deliberately spoke slowly, choosing simple words close to Russian, but when her son and husband began to speak in rapid Ukrainian, the visit was terminated. He instructed his wife to go to Moscow and demand another visit. Moroz’s argument was simple: “In Ukraine, no one forces Russians in prisons to speak Ukrainian...” She succeeded: in the visiting room, a Ukrainian soldier was already sitting in the role of an interpreter.
In August 1971, she was fired from her job and could not find work for a year. On the advice of I. SVITLYCHNY, she took up translating and translated a novel by the German writer Siegfried Lenz, sending it under her maiden name to the journal *Vsesvit*. Although Yevhen Popovych and Hryhoriy KOCHUR praised the translation, it was never published. In 1972, after nearly two years of wrangling and court proceedings, she was finally issued an order for a cooperative apartment, in which she had been living seemingly illegally, although she had paid for it. They installed a telephone to make eavesdropping easier. In August 1972, she was given a job as a librarian at a vocational school, where for 70 rubles she guarded two shelves of books in a large, cold hall for 7 years. Thus, they kept her “on a leash,” and her son was left without supervision. She resigned from this job only in the spring of 1979.
During a visit in early 1974, V. MOROZ told his wife that he would start a hunger strike on July 1 because he was being held with criminals: “They are trying to drive me insane. I have nothing to breathe.” A criminal prisoner had wounded him in the stomach with a sharpened spoon handle. This was the KGB’s retribution for *Report from the Beria Reserve*—a brilliant work of publicistic writing. Indeed, on July 1, 1974, he began an indefinite hunger strike, demanding to be transferred from prison to a camp. The hunger strike lasted 5 months; he was force-fed through a tube, which damaged his throat. Entrusting her 12-year-old son to Lyuba LEMYK, Moroz went to Moscow for advice from Lyudmila ALEKSEYEVA and Larisa BOHORAZ. They didn't know what to advise but soon sent Iryna Korsunskaya to Lviv, who conveyed an offer to arrange a press conference for her with foreign journalists. “It was a very concrete and businesslike proposal,” she would write about it later, “but, good Lord, how frightening it was to dare! Me and West German, American correspondents? Me against the KGB and the whole state? Of course, I had long been against both the KGB and the state, but I never declared it out loud. I was just the wife of a Ukrainian political prisoner, and here I had to burn all my bridges and say my own word. What would happen to me, to my son? All these thoughts flashed through my mind like a whirlwind, but deep down, I already knew that I would not refuse. I had to get used to the idea and overcome the fear, so as not to reproach myself for the rest of my life that there was a chance to help, but I did not.” Lyudmila ALEKSEYEVA advised her to first go to Vladimir Prison and confirm that her husband was indeed on a hunger strike.
She managed to get confirmation from the prison warden himself (he let it slip). At the press conference in L. ALEKSEYEVA’s apartment, there were 5 journalists from different countries. It was effectively the first interview from Ukraine. After it ended, Moroz looked down from the eighth floor—and it was full of black KGB cars. She was being openly watched. There were no tickets for her to go home at the airport or the train station. Only at two in the morning did she manage to buy a plane ticket. At the Lviv airport, she was detained by police officers, but they soon released her without a search. And she had *samvydav* on her. In a taxi and on foot, she miraculously reached Spokiyna Street, where she was met by Olena ANTONIV. At dawn, they went to the train station. The KGB agents later asked: “Well, did we give Raisa a good scare then?” The interview had a worldwide impact. In Canada, the USA, Australia, Argentina, and other countries, committees for the defense of MOROZ were created. Andrei SAKHAROV also spoke out in his defense.
At the second press conference on August 27, 1974, Moroz appealed to the world community and the International PEN Club. The appeals were published in leading newspapers and were reacted to by presidents, prime ministers, and senators. At that time, negotiations on détente in Europe and on granting the USSR most-favored-nation status in trade were ongoing—and this was linked to human rights in the USSR, and in this context, the fate of V. MOROZ was always mentioned. The Ukrainian issue entered the world stage. The KGB tried to force Moroz to be silent. After the first interview, she was met on the street in Ivano-Frankivsk by her old “friend,” investigator Kolchyk, who had already been promoted and moved to Kyiv. Moroz didn't even greet him. Persecution began, pressure on her and her teenage son. Valentyn Jr. was beaten by boys, suspected of stealing a bicycle from the chief of police, and put on the register in the juvenile division of the police, where he was kept until the 10th grade. In the 9th grade, they tried to send the boy to a psychiatric hospital through the military enlistment office. Moroz called friends in Moscow and threatened to raise a worldwide outcry. Her son was released. During interrogations, KGB agents hinted to her that they wouldn't kill her, but that hooligans might beat her up a little. The next day, a stone flew through her window and hit her under the eye. The windows of her apartment and those of two unmarried neighbors were broken by unknown assailants, and a rumor was spread: “That’s what they got for their suitors.”
During interrogations, she was constantly threatened with arrest. Her only argument was: “What—am I supposed to save my own skin when my husband is on a hunger strike and might die?” On October 14, 1974, Moroz again went to Moscow, where with L. ALEKSEYEVA, she drafted a complaint addressed to KGB Chairman Yu. Andropov about blackmail and threats of physical violence. She handed the statement to a high-ranking KGB official. Moroz secured a visit with her starving husband and arrived for it on November 5, 1974, together with her father-in-law, Yakov Moroz. Her husband could barely walk, weighing 50-55 kg at a height of 175 cm, and was possibly under the influence of psychotropic drugs, as he spoke incoherently. Moroz immediately called A. SAKHAROV and wrote appeals to US President Ford, Canadian Prime Minister Trudeau, and West German Chancellor Schmidt. On L. ALEKSEYEVA's advice, she separately wrote an appeal from her father to Brezhnev in a milder tone. The father signed it. L. ALEKSEYEVA passed both these appeals abroad. An incredible outcry in defense of MOROZ arose abroad. Soon, V. MOROZ informed her by letter that he had ended his hunger strike on November 22, 1974. The letter was very confusing, giving the impression that he had stopped the hunger strike and written it under the influence of some medication.
At the next visit on May 5, 1975, V. MOROZ expressed fear that he might be sent to a psychiatric hospital, that the prison psychiatrist Rogov was threatening him with a “madhouse,” and that instead of a camp, the fate of L. PLYUSHCH awaited him. In the spring of 1976, letters from her husband stopped arriving. Moroz wrote to Vladimir Prison, but her husband was no longer there, and they would not tell her where he was. Together with L. ALEKSEYEVA, Moroz appealed to the Ministry of Internal Affairs in Moscow, but they too evaded giving an answer. Then Moroz declared: “If you don't tell me where he is, I will shout to the whole world that you have done something with him!” Only then did a Moscow official say that MOROZ was at the Serbsky Institute. Moroz immediately went to Petro HRYHORENKO's apartment, where a press conference was taking place, and told the foreign journalists about it. She managed to get a visit: MOROZ stood there somehow alienated, like a stranger. He said he was renouncing his Soviet citizenship. On June 10, 1976, she gave an interview about this by phone at night to a journalist from the *Washington Star*, Philippa Scahndler. For this, her phone was disconnected the next morning. Accompanied by the party organizer and the director of the vocational school, she was taken for a talk with KGB agents. A meeting of the school's labor collective was convened, where her behavior was condemned. The international outcry in defense of MOROZ was such that he was declared sane and sent to serve out his term in a special-regime camp in the village of Sosnovka (Mordovia). From there, Moroz brought out humorous sketches by V. MOROZ from a visit, but on the advice of O. MESHKO, she did not publish them, as they were weaker than his previous brilliant publicistic essays. During the negotiations for the signing of SALT II (a treaty between the USSR and the USA on the “Limitation of Strategic Arms”), an agreement was reached for the exchange of five political prisoners—V. MOROZ, A. GINZBURG, H. VINSA, M. Dymshits, and E. Kuznetsov—for Soviet citizens Rudolf Chernyaev and Vadim Enger, former UN employees sentenced in the US to long terms on espionage charges.
The exchange took place on the night of April 27-28, 1979, at New York’s Kennedy Airport. None of the subjects of this political human trafficking were asked for their consent. Moroz learned about it from Western radio broadcasts. Her first feeling was relief, a reward for years of suffering. And then—an indescribable sorrow that she would have to leave Ukraine forever. After all, the agreement provided for the reunification of families. This meant that the wife and son effectively had no choice. But she also understood that in this situation, they had to leave, as many political prisoners were renouncing their Soviet citizenship and demanding to emigrate. Especially since her son would never have received a higher education in the USSR. He was not even issued a certificate of secondary education. In Zurich, Switzerland, they were met by Anna-Halya Horbach and Slava Stetsko. They arrived in New York on US Independence Day, July 4, 1979. She had poems by V. STUS, sent by him from exile, sewn into her clothing on fabric. She gave them to the journal *Suchasnist* for publication. At the end of August, Moroz traveled to Europe at the invitation of Amnesty International, where she had a series of interviews with several of its groups in Germany and Austria.
She also had a meeting with the Swiss organization “Faith in the Second World.” Based on those interviews, the German and Austrian press covered the events in Ukraine quite well. After settling in New York, Moroz immediately became involved in human rights activities. From September 26 to 29, 1979, along with P. HRYHORENKO, N. SVITLYCHNA, and P. VINS, she testified at the International Sakharov Hearings about political persecution in Ukraine. She reported on the fate of Petro and Vasyl SICHKO and the murder of Volodymyr Ivasyuk. At the invitation of Ukrainian communities, she traveled to large Ukrainian gatherings in various cities across America and Canada, speaking about the fate of Ukrainian political prisoners and the suffocating atmosphere in Ukraine. Typically, after her speeches, she gave interviews about this to English-language journalists. On February 1, 1980, *The New York Times* published a letter from Moroz about the fate of Zenoviy KRASIVSKY (the letter was translated into English by Iris ACAHOSHI, a member of Amnesty International and Zenoviy’s long-time correspondent).
That same year, on August 15, *The New York Times* published another letter from Moroz, in which, based on criminal accusations against Mykola HORBAL, Vyacheslav CHORNOVIL, Yaroslav LESIV, and Petro ROZUMNY, she described a new KGB tactic—accusing Ukrainian dissidents of fabricated criminal acts, such as rape, drug possession, and weapons possession, in order to discredit them and show the world that they were not political prisoners. Her marriage to Valentyn Moroz soon dissolved. In the summer of 1981, an American court granted them a divorce. During her first year after emigration, Moroz worked part-time in New York for the journal *Suchasnist*. She proofread and retyped on a typewriter the “ksyvas” (underground messages) received from places of detention. She was outraged that some information transmitted with such risk lay there for months without being acted upon. Moroz read those texts through a magnifying glass and started wearing glasses then. Yuriy Shevelov, the editor of *Suchasnist*, encouraged Moroz to write an article about the Azov Greeks. This was her first venture into publicism and journalism. It was Shevelov who predicted that she would write. She published in Ukrainian newspapers and magazines.
She communicated and collaborated with Nadiya SVITLYCHNA, Petro HRYHORENKO, and Mykola RUDENKO. She participated in the work of the Foreign Representation of the Ukrainian Helsinki Group. As a UHG member, she traveled with Petro HRYHORENKO to speak at NATO’s 25th anniversary in Ottawa, to a meeting with the Ukrainian community in Montreal, and with Mykola Budulak-Sharyhin to a meeting with the student community at La Salle College (Montreal), among others. In the summer of 1980, at the invitation of Ukrainian women’s organizations (they said: “We are also entitled to one dissident”), she moved with her son to Chicago, where she earned a master’s degree in library science over two years. At the same time, she got a job as a freelance correspondent for “Voice of America” in Washington. Her first reports were about her impressions of America; later, she focused on covering Ukrainian dissident literature published in the West, summarizing its content.
In Chicago, she also participated in the activities of the Sisterhood of the Protection of the Most Holy Theotokos, which, through the “Conscience Shop,” raised funds and material aid for political prisoners and their families in Ukraine. In 1982, she moved to Winnipeg, married a Ukrainian-Canadian, Hryhoriy Kuksa, and found a job at the library of St. Andrew’s College. In Canada, she continued to send weekly reports to “Voice of America”: she translated into Ukrainian and retold articles and entire books—from various languages: English, German, Polish, and Russian. She tried to select materials about the colonial status of Ukraine within the empire, the fate of Ukrainian political prisoners, and reported on the translations of their works and appeals into foreign languages.
For example, in a series of reports, she selectively translated and recounted the monograph by Jan Gross, *Revolution from Abroad* (1988)—a thorough work on the 1939 seizure of Western Ukraine and Western Belarus, on the terror, arrests, executions, and deportations in freight cars to Siberia. This is a publication from the prestigious Princeton University, based on the testimonies of deported Ukrainians and Poles, from whom General Anders later, with Stalin’s consent, organized an army that fought against Hitler in Italy. These broadcasts received positive feedback from Mykhailo OSADCHY and Mykhailo HORYN. In Canada, she continued to contribute to American and Canadian Ukrainian newspapers on topics of Moscow’s policy in Ukraine: “Why Only the Ukrainian Press is Being Downsized” (*Ukrainski visti*, 1987), “The New Alliance – KGB and the Russian Orthodox Church” (*Svoboda*, 1988), and so on. During *perestroika*, at a public speech by a Soviet diplomat at the University of Manitoba, who claimed that it was now free to travel to and from the USSR and that there were no more political prisoners, she entered into an argument with him, naming her friends M. HORBAL and I. HEL, who were still in detention. Thousands of students supported her.
In the spring of 1989, perhaps one of the first émigrés to do so, she applied to the USSR embassy for a trip to Ukraine, to her mother. There was no reply for several months. A Canadian parliamentarian of Filipino descent, David Kilgour, helped her obtain permission. She sent reports for the radio station “Voice of America” from 1982 to 1990. When this station cut back on its freelance correspondents, Moroz began working for Radio Canada International in 1990 and continued until the station closed in 2009. Thus, she was a radio journalist for 27 years and loved this work more than her profession as a librarian. All these years, she contributed articles to Ukrainian newspapers and journals. In 2005, she published a book in Lviv, *Against the Wind: Memoirs of the Wife of a Ukrainian Political Prisoner*, dedicated to the wives of Ukrainian political prisoners. In it, “she remained true to herself, unyieldingly truthful and observant in her observations. And most importantly, simple and not malevolent, with her characteristic Christian forgiveness and desire to understand.” (Y. SVERSTYUK). She is making efforts to move back to Ukraine.
Bibliography:
“Complaint (In the Case of Moroz).” *Suchasnist*, 1976, no. 11, pp. 97-99.
“A Conversation with R. Moroz.” *Suchasnist*, 1979, no. 9, pp. 95-100. R. Moroz. “Appeals on Behalf of Petro and Vasyl Sichko” (Testimony at the Sakharov Hearings in Washington). *Smoloskyp*, 1979, No. 5, p. 11.
“From the Life of National Minorities of Ukraine: The Greeks.” *Suchasnist*, 1980, no. 12, pp. 75-79.
“A Poet's Life at Stake.” *The New York Times: Letters*, February 15, 1980.
“Recent Soviet Strategy Turns Dissidents into Common Criminals.” *The New York Times*, August 15, 1980.
R. Moroz and N. Svitlychna. “To Sviatoslav Karavansky, Regarding His Friendly Conversations, Our Friendly Epistle.” *Ukrainski visti*, Year 36, No. 38, October 4, 1981.
“The Status of Women in the USSR.” *Vidnova* journal, Philadelphia – Munich, 1984, vol. 1, pp. 26-33.
“A World Seen Through Rose-Colored Glasses, or Simple Window-Dressing?” *Novi Dni*, Toronto, 1980, Year 31, no. 5, pp. 19-21.
“To the Bright Memory of Oleksiy Tykhy.” *Suchasnist*, no. 11 (283), 1984, pp. 116–120.
“The Second Garland.” *Vidnova* journal, Philadelphia – Munich, 1986, vol. 5, pp. 222-225.
“The Dissident Movement in Ukraine and the Tasks of the Youth in Emigration.” *Ukrainski visti*, September 21, 1986.
“Once Again About Slogans and Reality.” *Suchasnist*, 1986, no. 4, pp. 98-107.
“The Russian Intelligentsia and the National Question Against the Backdrop of Glasnost and Perestroika.” *Suchasnist*, 1990, nos. 7-8, pp. 171-185.
Interview with R. Moroz on July 9, 2000, in Kyiv. *Against the Wind: Memoirs of the Wife of a Ukrainian Political Prisoner*. Lviv: Svichado, 2005. 216 pp.
Bibliographical works: *Ukrainian Serials: Checklist of Ukrainian Periodicals and Newspapers at St. Andrew's College*. Winnipeg: St. Andrew’s College, 1997. 127 pp.
*Index of Rare Literature in the Library of St. Andrew’s College: (Manuscripts and Old Prints; Publications of the Ukrainian Diaspora)*. Winnipeg: St. Andrew’s College, 2002. 144 pp. Vasyl Ovsiyenko, Kharkiv Human Rights Protection Group.
Corrected and supplemented by R. Moroz.
