This weekend I drove home to Ohio from the Appalachian Studies Conference in mountainous Morgantown, West Virginia. Conference-goers enjoyed warm hospitality and spring sunshine along the banks of the Monongahela River, gathering in-person for the first time since the pandemic. But for those attuned to distant news, the war in Ukraine furnished a troubling backdrop to an otherwise uplifting conference. For several years now, the Appalachian Studies Association has hosted international scholars—geographers, historians, artists, and sociologists—from the Carpathian Mountains. Carpathia is a land of striking physical and cultural similarities to Appalachia. Its landscape even stood in for North Carolina’s Smoky Mountains as the location for the 2003 Civil War movie Cold Mountain. Carpathia’s coal-rich mountains extend from Poland, Romania, and Slovakia, through sections of western Ukraine, now trapped in the crosshairs of Vladimir Putin’s military aggression. This year’s Appalachian Studies Association included the late addition of a roundtable discussion: “Appalachians/ Carpathians: Mountain to Mountain Connections During the Russian Attack on Ukraine.” Panelists from the United States and Romania were joined by Dr. Roman Poznanskyy from the Precarpathian National University, Ivano-Frankivsk, Ukraine, to discuss cultural connections and support for Ukrainian scholars, students, and citizens. Symbols of solidarity were visible throughout the conference, notably the blue-and-yellow of Ukraine, displayed on badges and clothing. The bright, unfussy primary colors of the Ukrainian flag represent clear blue skies and golden fields of wheat, the produce for which Ukrainian agriculture is famous. They stand in poignant contrast to lurid atrocities being committed by Putin’s armed forces. Though I have no immediate connections to Ukraine, this war has felt strangely personal. Since the invasion began on February 24, its horror has been flashed by on reflections from the handful of Ukrainians I’ve known in life. I think of my brilliant grad school friend from Kharkhiv in eastern Ukraine, a city reduced now to rubble. Or my wonderful colleague at Miami University—a fellow naturalized US citizen. Her 83-year-old mother has been trapped in the port city of Odessa. Such experiences are too common, patches in a quilt of human suffering.
Like many friends of Ukraine in America, I have watched the war coverage with growing alarm. As the brave resistance of Ukraine’s military has stalled the invasion, Putin has resorted to increasingly desperate and barbarous tactics, bombing and shelling apartment blocks, schools, theaters, and even maternity hospitals. Whatever comes next, we must insist that this is Putin’s war, not the Russian people’s war. Thousands of Russian citizens have already been arrested in anti-war protests. These numbers will only rise as the carnage filters home in ways the Kremlin will be powerless to control. More Russian soldiers—often teenage conscripts—have died in the first three weeks of this campaign than combined US deaths from twenty years of fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan. They did not choose this war. But the real victims are the ordinary Ukrainian people. At the time of writing, some 10 million Ukrainians—one in four—have been driven from their homes. Over 3 million have already fled Ukraine to neighboring countries, which are struggling to cope with Europe’s greatest humanitarian crisis since 1945. What can we do to help? In the 1930s, thousands of foreign volunteers joined the International Brigades fighting the fascists in the Spanish Civil War. Reportedly, thousands of foreign volunteers—including hundreds of Americans—have already joined the new Ukrainian International Legion, joining ordinary Ukrainians defending their homeland. But at a time when fewer than 1 percent of the US population is active duty or reserve military, such drastic measures are hardly to be recommended for those without the proper training and skills. More realistically, we can offer support with solidarity and generosity to the Ukrainian people. Numerous reputable agencies, including UNICEF, Médecins sans Frontieres, and the Red Cross welcome your donations to help the growing refugee population. And when you tire of images of destruction on TV, consider joining or organizing a vigil or demonstration, such as the one that gathered in West Chester’s Union Center on March 7. Despite the freezing cold weather that evening, dozens of local citizens and interfaith leaders turned out to express solidarity with the Ukrainian people, including Ukrainian Americans who testified before the gathering. Although such displays of solidarity might be dismissed as mere rhetoric, words assuredly do matter. And demonstrations of action are the foundations on which healthy democracies are built, at home and abroad.
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This week, The Extraordinary Times catches up with another good friend from southwestern Ohio. Mike Maloney was founding director of the Urban Appalachian Council (UAC) the forerunner of today’s Urban Appalachian Community Coalition (UACC) in Cincinnati, where he now serves as Convenor. Mike was recently honored for his distinguished career as a scholar and community organizer, being named 2022 recipient of the Berea College Service Award, along with fellow Appalachian activist Jane Stephenson.
Mike grew up in the mountain section of Eastern Kentucky, the son of a coal miner and a mother who managed to raise nine children under often harsh conditions. He has extensive teaching experience—having served as a lecturer in Appalachian Studies at six area colleges and universities—and providing training on Appalachian culture for social workers, health providers, and educators. He has served as a trainer for the Ohio Child Welfare Training Network and as consultant for the Ohio Appalachian Outreach Project for the Ohio Arts Council. The Ohio Humanities Council recognizes him as an expert on Appalachian culture. His work as a writer includes co-editing the 4th and 5th editions of Appalachia: Social Context Past and Present and the Urban Appalachian section of the Encyclopedia of Appalachia. * From your own perspective, what does it mean to be an urban Appalachian? Until the early 1970s, people who had moved to cities outside the Appalachian Region were called Appalachian migrants. In the Dayton-Miami Valley area we were often called “briars” or “briar hoppers” on the streets and in the factories where so many of us worked. In Cincinnati we were called hillbillies and by church and social workers Southern Appalachian Migrants or SAMS. Cincinnati Appalachian leaders used the Appalachian migrant nomenclature until one of the students in my Appalachian studies class challenged me. “Migrants are people who have moved recently. Some of your people have been here for a long time. You are not migrants!” After that we adopted the term urban Appalachian and named our organization the Urban Appalachian Council, keeping the initials of our first organization (1968-1970), UAC for United Appalachian Cincinnati. We have since defined urban Appalachians as people who moved to the cities outside the region or whose ancestors did so. What being urban Appalachian means to me personally is that my spirit will always live in the mountains from which I came. “My heart is in the Highlands” as the Scottish ballad says. I realize that the sense of being “from” Appalachian changes with each generation but in my family the awareness is still there at some level. A few years ago in Trenton, Ohio, I watched a 6-year-old grandnephew carefully cultivating a bean patch in his back yard and I knew our culture was still alive in that family. In my family there is a band of 2nd and 3rd generation urban Appalachians, 9 Castle Close, which plays mostly Irish Music. But when elders are present they always sing some songs from the mountains. My people still know who they are. Note: When Phil Obermiller and I edited the urban section of the Encyclopedia of Appalachia, the editors forced us to expand the definition of urban Appalachians to include people living in cities within the Appalachian region. (We knew we had coopted the term for our part of the movement and did not resist.) * What influences in early life drew you towards scholarship and activism? My family placed a high value on books and learning. Even my older brothers who got little formal education were well read and self-educated. My high school teachers and principal made sure that I went off to college. My family did not know how to make that happen. My family also had a passion for justice that was inspired by mountain culture (egalitarianism) and Biblical tradition. I was also influenced by Catholic social justice teaching and the civil rights movement as a young man in the 1960s. * What was the original mission of the Urban Appalachian Council at its founding? We wanted to found a social movement in which urban Appalachians could be proud of and celebrate their heritage, be recognized as an ethnic group and advocate for inclusion in the opportunity structure of our new home communities. We would advocate fair treatment for our neighborhoods, for our school children and our workers. This all came down to practical issues like better housing, job opportunities, recognition of our culture by school systems, countering stereotypes in the media. We provided cultural awareness training for teachers, police, and social workers. We set up identity centers and GED programs in storefronts and church basements. * How is the UACC carrying on this mission, or developing it in other ways? In many ways, we have scaled back and become a network with no real office or full-time staff. In other ways, we have expanded our reach by using social media. We serve a larger geographic area including Dayton, Hamilton, and Northern Kentucky. We still sponsor some arts and cultural events, co-sponsor civic events, do some advocacy (especially in health issues) and maintain community research and operate the Frank Foster Memorial Library. We are a resource for our artists and writers and for students, social workers and educators who want to learn about Appalachian history and culture. * What is your proudest achievement in life? I have been able to touch the lives of thousands of people helping them gain knowledge about and pride in their heritage. To do this I helped found the Urban Appalachian Council and now the UACC and helped found or strengthen at least 50 small non-profits across Southern Ohio—from Cincinnati to Martin’s Ferry and in other urban centers from Cincinnati to Cleveland and Baltimore. Community centers, GED schools, emergency services, a day care center, a domestic violence shelter, a community development corporation, the National Quilt Barn Trail. I have helped my people find their voice and raise their aspirations. |
AuthorMatthew Smith, PhD (History). Public Programs at Miami University Regionals. Historian of Appalachia, the Ohio Valley, & the early American republic. Archives
February 2024
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