AUG. 3, 2014
Independence Square in Kiev has become a living monument and is hallowed ground for many. CreditSergey Dolzhenko/European Pressphoto Agency
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KIEV, Ukraine — The summer tourists, in shorts and sundresses, walk the steep slope of Institutska Street, toward Independence Square, pausing to snap pictures of themselves in front of the fortresslike mounds of tires, cobblestones, twisted metal and hunks of wood that still stand as barricades, as if the riot police could return at any moment.
As they descend, they peer closely at piles of debris that contain the detritus of months of civil disobedience: rusting metal body shields, orange plastic construction helmets, fading bandage wrappers and scraps of bloody clothing. Some move in for a closer look at the photos of dead protesters that line the streets, surrounded by flowers and candles.
While a war against Russian-backed insurgents rages in eastern Ukraine, the capital, Kiev, is serene. Yet as the tourists reach the square, the monuments to the Ukrainian uprising known as Euromaidan come back to life.
Hundreds of people live in tents staked on and around Khreshchatyk Street, once a main thoroughfare traversing the city center. They cook in huge caldrons over wood fires and collect donations for the volunteer battalions helping to fight the separatists in the east. They even play basketball on a fenced-in court recently installed by Cossacks.
A poster there depicted President Vladimir V. Putin of Russia alongside Hitler and Stalin.CreditSergei Supinsky/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images
Some are homeless and have nowhere to go, but most are here to make a point: Though Ukraine has a new president, Kiev has a new mayor and parliamentary elections are planned for this fall, the people stand ready to gather again at a moment’s notice.
“Maidan should stay,” said Bohdan Zahurskiy, 42, who arrived in Kiev in late November from Zolochiv in western Ukraine and was recently shooting hoops on the new court. “We need a control. It will control those in power, so they won’t relax.”
Anatoly Lenov, 21, also playing basketball, said he would not leave Kiev until Russia relinquished Crimea, where his home city, Yevpatoria, is. “We have changed the politicians, but the situation in the country itself has not changed,” he said.
The crisis in Ukraine started last fall as a series of political demonstrations in favor of European integration, then slipped into a long winter of uprising against the government of President Viktor F. Yanukovych, who ultimately fled after dozens of protesters were killed in clashes with the police. Spring began with Russia’s annexation of Crimea and the start of an armed insurrection in the east.
Now, deep into a sultry summer, the occupation of Independence Square — known to Ukrainians simply as Maidan — continues. The square, blocked off since shortly after protests began in November, has become a living monument. The streets around it may never fully reopen.
Unlike the site of the World Trade Center, where a new museum allows an organized visit for a $24 ticket, Independence Square is its own free — and freewheeling — memorial.
At times, the result is surreal. Military-style tents housing die-hard demonstrators are interspersed with brightly colored tents selling lemonade, ice cream and the local favorite yeast-based soda called Kvas. Mixed in with shrines to the dead protesters are souvenir stands.
(The best-selling souvenirs these days convey Ukraine’s distaste for President Vladimir V. Putin of Russia, including shirts, hats and mugs bearing the initials for a profane expression telling Mr. Putin to go to a not very nice place. There is also toilet paper with Mr. Putin’s face on it.)
To some, the barricades, despite resembling heaps of garbage, are an essential reminder of the price Ukrainians paid in blood to protect their freedom, and a warning to the country’s new leaders that the people remain vigilant.
“Everything that happened here was all patriotic,” said Vasily Samokysh, 14, from Ivano-Frankivsk in western Ukraine, who was visiting an uncle in Kiev. “I would like them to save everything until everybody in Ukraine has been here and sees what happened and sees who died.”
To others, the lingering encampments are an increasingly fetid nuisance. They do not dispute that the events on the square were historic, but say they would prefer a city center that looks less like a refugee camp.
Kiev’s new mayor, Vitali Klitschko, a former heavyweight boxing champion, has made some effort to reduce the footprint of the tent city, and to clean up the area. But after calling briefly in May for protesters to leave, Mr. Klitschko has not tried to remove the tents or barricades at the core of the former protest zone, or on Institutska Street where many deaths occurred, and has said he will not forcibly evict the demonstrators.
Dmytro Sediakov, 39, who lives just off Independence Square, said he would like to see the encampments cleared away and the city return to normal — if that is even possible.
A former manager of a tour company, Mr. Sediakov said he had been out of work because few Ukrainians were traveling, and pointed out that New Yorkers would probably not tolerate people pitching tents in Midtown. “Most likely their conversation with the police would be short,” he said.
Mr. Sediakov said he wished that President Yanukovych had been ousted during scheduled elections in 2015 rather than by protests. “Now a lot of people have died because of this,” he said. “Part of the country is satisfied with the upheaval while another part does not accept it. And therefore a war is going on now.”
Nearby, Ellen Pinchuk, 35, from Brest, Belarus, was walking with her husband, Sergei, and son, Anton, 9, as well as her sister Svitlana Klymenko, 40, and nieces Katia, 15, and Alina, 8, who live in Cherkasy, Ukraine. They posed for pictures, but said it was time to clear the square.
Ms. Pinchuk said citizens of Belarus would not have risen up against a government they opposed and expressed admiration for Ukrainians. “They did good,” she said. “But now it’s time for them to go.”
Ms. Klymenko said she had visited Kiev in winter to support the demonstrators and had donated money. But she agreed that it was time for those living on the square to pack up. “They can always gather again if needed; there is no reason to stay here and guard,” she said. “If they want to help rescue the country further, they should go to war. Why do they stay here as bums?” Not far from the new basketball court, where pickup games run through the afternoons and into the nights, is the main stage, where at the height of the protests leaders gathered for nightly speeches and led the crowds in hourly renditions of the Ukrainian national anthem.
The stage, which now features sporadic musical acts, is one of many monuments in the square to the so-called Heavenly Hundred protesters who died. Photos of many of them are lined up, along with dozens of flickering votive candles and piles of colorful flowers left by visitors.
For many, Independence Square is now hallowed ground. Brides and grooms occasionally pose for photos amid the tents and tire piles, as Tatyana Morozova, 27, and Rafael Garcia Hernandez, 36, did before their wedding just outside Kiev in June. Ms. Morozova is Ukrainian, Mr. Hernandez is Spanish and they live in Brighton, England, where they work in finance. “People are fighting for freedom,” Ms. Morozova said, explaining why she chose to do a photo shoot on Maidan. “I’m proud of my country.”
Near the main stage, Pavlo Huminiuk, 52, and his wife, Larysa, 51, musicians from Chernivtsi in western Ukraine, were staring in amazement at a huge barricade made of tires, which had been set ablaze to create a flaming barrier between protesters and the police, and cobblestones, which had been chiseled from the road and hurled as weapons.
“We are in shock,” Ms. Huminiuk said. “It’s hard to think how many people have died here in a peaceful time, when we went to work, slept, ate.”
Mr. Huminiuk added, “True patriots stood here, who in fact guarded our sleep.”
“This is history,” he added. “These are the real barricades as they are. They were left in order that people should know.”
A version of this article appears in print on August 4, 2014, on page A6 of the New York edition with the headline: A City Divided Over an Occupation Without End. Order Reprints|Today's
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