KIEV -- The soldiers guarding the doors of Ukraine's Verkhovnaya Rada were not sure who was in charge any more.

The old protocols said no one was supposed to enter the country's parliament buildings without a special access pass. My press accreditation, issued by the Foreign Ministry, wasn't going to be good enough.

I spoke with several uniformed soldiers, who passed me on to a low-ranking official from the press centre, who let me talk to her boss, who told me I'd have to get a fax from my editor in Toronto asking for a Rada pass, and then we'd see.
The old rules were swept away minutes later, when Viktor Yushchenko — the man who millions of Ukrainians believe won Sunday's presidential election — arrived in the building with his entourage, including his deputy, Yulia Tymoshenko, whom I'd met several times before.
Overhearing the kerfuffle, Ms. Tymoshenko stopped, gave the guards a stern look and motioned with her hand that I should be allowed in. The press official looked at the head of the guards, who shrugged. For all they knew, Mr. Yushchenko could be president by the end of the day, and Ms. Tymoshenko his prime minister. The look they exchanged communicated that it was best not to offend those who might wind up signing their next paycheque.

The moment encapsulated a chaotic day in Ukraine's capital.

Street sweepers employed by the city tried to go about their jobs as if everything were normal, acting as though they were somehow oblivious to the thousands of students who had set up tents in the middle of the very streets they were trying to clean.

Police watched the whole scene helplessly, obviously lacking orders about how to handle the situation.

I wound up in the gallery of the Rada, a grand chamber decorated with chandeliers and a blue-and-yellow map of Ukraine over the Speaker's chair, watching what Mr. Yushchenko's supporters hoped would be the birth of a new Ukraine. It was messy to witness.

Opposition deputies had the numbers to force Speaker Volodymyr Lytvyn to call a special session, but not enough on their own to pass any legislation. When it became clear that no one from the pro-Yanukovich factions or from the Communist Party was going to show up, any existing plan was clearly thrown off the rails.

As one deputy after another got up and gave speeches condemning violations in Sunday's vote, a crowd of advisers gathered around Mr. Yushchenko's desk to the right of the Speaker's chair. Ms. Tymoshenko, a political firebrand who seems to push the more conciliatory Mr. Yushchenko further than he might otherwise go, was standing in the middle of the pack, urging him once more to take it as far as he could.

Mr. Yushchenko heeded her advice, and moments later took the Rada's podium with a 16th-century copy of the New Testament in hand, read the oath of office and declared himself president of Ukraine.
“We won,” Mr. Yushchenko told the assembled deputies.
He was answered by cheers of “Bravo, Mr. President!” from those in the Rada, and an even larger ovation when he opened a window to address the tens of thousands of his supporters who had gathered on the streets outside, surrounding the parliament building.

The only dissenting voice came from Mr. Lytvyn, the Speaker, who called the process a farce. “There will be no oath for you,” he told Mr. Yushchenko before cutting live transmission of the session.

The scene left Ukraine with too many leaders. Mr. Yushchenko claims the presidency, as does Prime Minister Viktor Yanukovich, the man who won Sunday's highly disputed vote, at least according to the central election commission.

Meanwhile President Leonid Kuchma has yet to finish his term, and many believe the real power still lies in Moscow, with Russian President Vladimir Putin. “Ukraine now has four presidents,” political analyst Markiyan Bilynsky sighed.

The Globe and Mail; 24 November 2004