On St. George's Hill, outside the bright yellow walls of St. George's Cathedral, a surging crowd completely blocks the entrance, with banners and flags fluttering above the entire hill of St. George.
On the outskirts of the crowd, maintaining order, is a large group of civilians in casual attire, carrying various old-fashioned rifles. These militiamen, not to be misunderstood, are true grassroots militias formed spontaneously by citizens of Ukrainian, Belarusian, Russian, Jewish, and other ethnicities in Lviv. Their unofficial organization aims to resist the oppression of Polish landlords and capitalists, and to prevent sabotage by Polish anti-Soviet elements.
The very existence and purpose of this organization indicate that Moscow allows it to exist primarily to use ethnic tensions as a tool to weaken the demographic advantage of Poles in the Lviv region and strengthen Soviet control over the area.
Currently, Soviet control over Western Ukraine, especially the part east of the Curzon Line recently recovered, remains relatively weak. Moscow's leaders understand well that mere military occupation does not equate to genuine control. There is much for the state to accomplish in this region.
Utilizing ethnic tensions to elevate the status of minorities like Ukrainians and Jews to counterbalance the numerically superior Polish population; exploiting religious differences to elevate Eastern Orthodoxy against the majority Roman Catholicism; and using class conflicts to pit lower-class workers against wealthy farmers and capitalists—these are all strategies aimed at solidifying control.
Under these strategies, militia organizations and workers' unions in Lviv are highly active. They actively denounce and expose landlords, capitalists, and anti-Soviet elements, cooperating with the People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs to arrest spies and saboteurs, and confiscate ill-gotten gains. In some respects, their zeal exceeds that of the People's Commissariat, driven by a sense of vengeance and retribution.
Viktor's jeep navigates through the crowded throng, slowly entering through the main gates of the cathedral, driving up a slope before coming to a stop by the roadside.
His gaze shifts from the car window to a gate with iron grilles ahead, where about twenty monks in robes are leaving the church with their belongings. They are Catholic monks who may have lived there since childhood. Now, they must leave St. George's Cathedral—either integrate into society as ordinary citizens or depart Lviv for the former Polish territories controlled by the Germans.
The Soviet policy towards religion has historically adhered to Leninist principles of "separation of church and state." Bolshevik party members are atheists and cannot administratively support the development of any religion. However, this policy has been temporarily adjusted in Western Ukraine, where the People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs has been ordered to take over assets originally belonging to the "Eastern Rite Catholic Church," especially churches and monasteries, and transfer them to the "Moscow and All Russia Orthodox Church." Through these administrative measures, Eastern Orthodoxy is being extensively promoted in Western Ukraine, effectively suppressing the influence of Roman Catholicism.
According to the plan, the Moscow-based All-Russian Orthodox Church will take over 73 former Catholic churches and monasteries in the Lviv region, with St. George's Cathedral being just one of them.
Since the orders were issued, centered around Lviv, there have been several violent clashes between Catholics and Orthodox believers throughout the province. Since the "Great Schism" of 1054, the conflicts between Eastern Orthodoxy and Catholicism have persisted for nearly a millennium. In the Lviv region, historically supported by the Polish government, Catholicism has long suppressed Eastern Orthodoxy. Now, everything has reversed, and the brewing conflicts here are expectedly intense.
From Viktor's personal perspective, using religion to enhance influence in newly occupied territories is justifiable because it can easily unite the people in the new occupied areas with the entire Soviet Union as a cultural community. This is a national strategy that inherently does not cater to individual sentiments.
Besides religion, the education system in Lviv is also facing significant upheaval. According to Moscow's orders, all primary, secondary, and tertiary schools in the entire Lviv region are eliminating teaching content related to Polish language and history. Simultaneously, Ukrainian and Russian language teaching content is being reinforced. As a result, many educators who previously taught Polish language and history have lost their jobs, and some have even been imprisoned.
Facing the forceful implementation of state will, ordinary people who happen to be in the way are unfortunate. Their families may lose their livelihoods overnight, transforming from middle-class to proletarian status. Yet, this is not the worst; some families may end up torn apart in the storm.
As the head of the People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs in the Lviv region, Viktor's mission is no longer just about strengthening security but about complete and thorough reform. Under the impetus of this reform, the social atmosphere in Lviv is now abnormal: some resist, some silently endure, and some indulge.
In just the past two weeks, the People's Commissariat has received over a hundred thousand reports and denunciations. The accusations range widely, from who said anti-Soviet remarks to who sympathized with a Polish landlord, or even who once visited Warsaw—yes, even visiting Warsaw has become a kind of crime in some eyes, needing to be accounted for.
Most of these reports and denunciations are likely trivial, born out of neighborly conflicts or sheer jealousy. However, once such letters reach the People's Commissariat, they must be addressed. The majority are diligently forwarded to the Directorate of Public Safety, but some require direct verification by state security agencies. Consequently, the already stretched resources become even more insufficient, which deeply troubles Viktor.
Supported by the barrels of guns, the transfer of St. George's Cathedral goes smoothly. Despite protests from Eastern Rite Catholic priests and even a complaint letter to Moscow, it proves futile. From today, this cathedral belongs to the Orthodox Church.
Only after the Orthodox faithful, who arrived to celebrate, disperse does Viktor's jeep finally exit the cathedral. Although he didn't appear during the entire transfer ceremony, he was always present, as his role demanded, not suitable for a prominent public appearance.
Seated in the back of the jeep, Viktor gazes at the streets of Lviv. Whether he admits it or not, today's Lviv streets are much desolate compared to when he first arrived. He remembers that Lviv was once bustling, with numerous shops selling a variety of goods imported from around the world.
Nowadays, many storefronts along the streets are closed, with only some essential goods shops remaining open. Of course, most of these shops belong to the "Committee for Consumer Goods and Residential Services," in other words, they are state-owned. The remaining few are mainly privately owned shops operated by Jewish proprietors. Unlike the timid Polish residents, Jews are bolder, continuing their business as usual.
Compared to the significantly reduced number of shops, the streets are now adorned with a variety of propaganda posters and slogans, mostly promoting the happiness of the Soviet family, alongside portraits of leaders.
Seeing those portraits, Viktor couldn't help but recall another case: according to reports from the Directorate of Workers' and Peasants' Militia, there has been a despicable anti-Soviet group recently appearing in the city. Their method of anti-Soviet action involves tearing down portraits of Comrades Lenin and Stalin around the city every night.
If possible, Viktor would prefer to consider this as mere mischief. Behind these incidents, it could be a few Polish children, or at most idle young people, influenced by anti-Soviet sentiments heard from their parents.
But in the current moment, as the head of the People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs in Lviv, he must take this case seriously. Yes, it's an anti-Soviet group causing disruption, and the strong political implications of this case require his attention. His stance reflects his political position and sensitivity.
Ten minutes later, the jeep stops in front of the headquarters of the People's Commissariat for Internal Affairs.
Viktor gets out of the car, adjusts his military uniform, then climbs the steps towards the entrance of the main building. Along the way, whether it's the sentries responsible for security or the staff coming and going, they all stop to salute him. This young lieutenant, not yet thirty years old, is the highest authority in this enforcement department.
Returning to his office, Viktor takes off his cap and hangs it on the coat rack by the door. Just as he closes the door behind him, it's knocked on.
"Come in," he says, unbuttoning the top buttons of his uniform, visibly relaxing.
The door opens, and Sofia, dressed in military attire, enters with a folder in hand.
"Viktor, I have some rather bad news," Sofia says, standing at the door and gesturing with the folder.
"Go ahead, there haven't been any good news lately anyway," Viktor replies without turning around.