Every September, regardless of COVID or war, brings new school scandals to social media. This year, the gold medal winner of the Special Olympiad was the educational and training program “Christian Spirituality in the Postmodern Era.” The Ukrainian Catholic University initially accepted the daughter of playwright Natalya Vorozhbit, but then, after closely examining her inactive Instagram account, removed the prospective student from the program. Not from the university, because the tuition for the semester had already been paid. Moreover, refusal to enroll in a state-accredited university because of the presence of a rainbow flag emoji on social media could be interpreted by the court as a violation of Article 24 of the Constitution. And the fact that the educational and formative program (yes, that's right, it's not a typo, although the not-so-Christian automatic spell checker constantly wants to correct it to the more familiar “informational”) includes accommodation in a dormitory (i.e., free accommodation in Lviv, which is currently very expensive for the middle class, in exchange for intensive indoctrination) is no longer a reason for legal communication, but rather the private university's own rules. There is no other dormitory at UCU, and they categorically refuse to call this dormitory a dormitory (because otherwise, dormitory rules would apply to it, such as free accommodation for children of combatants, and such a child, by coincidence, is Paraska Kurochkina, whose refusal to remove rainbow emojis from Instagram made it impossible for her to continue living free of charge in the buildings where UCU houses its Christian students and teachers).

There is no measuring stick by which you can measure the damage to UCU's reputation in a matter of hours. Among those who publicly refused to participate in its programs are another combatant, Yevhen Shybalov, and the editor of European Truth, Serhiy Sydorenko. One of the current UCU students ended her post about the scandal with a rainbow emoji, meaning that the university's decision and its subsequent communication had the opposite effect. The only argument of those who still try to defend the Catholic university's right to discriminate based on emojis is its right to its own format — living in comfortable conditions in exchange for evangelization, where the presence of “anticlerical and irreligious” views is unnecessary. This literally makes the Ukrainian Catholic University holier than the Pope, who, during his lifetime, was not afraid to approach the entire rainbow flag, let alone some emoji.

In its first official response, the UCU did not acknowledge (nor did it deny) the real reason for depriving the student of the opportunity to live in the dormitory: they stated that they had rejected “more than 15 applicants” due to a lack of space (this figure should be understood to mean that ten refusals to live in a location with more than two hundred places, according to the official website, is not enough for crisis communication, and there were not enough to make up two dozen). Competition was high, they continued, so “in making its decision, the administration of the College was guided by the following criteria: understanding of the mission and values of UCU; motivation to participate in the formation program; knowledge and willingness to abide by the rules of residence in the College.”

This prompted me to reread the UCU's public document on general principles and norms the day before, and predictably, there was no mention of students' sexual orientation or attitudes toward LGBTQ people, in plain language. But “UCU reserves the right to ensure that the position of community members does not contradict the identity, mission, and core values of the University, and to distance itself from them, up to and including dismissal (or expulsion from the student body), if the actions of the person in question harm the reputation or interests of the University.” We still cannot find out how a rainbow emoji on Instagram damaged the reputation or interests of the university. Although the same document refers to UCU as a “place of friendly dialogue,” no one even attempted to engage in such dialogue with the young woman who was counting on living in the college (i.e., the dormitory). Paraska Kurochkina's mother (who, according to her, had previously been told that accommodation was not a problem at all) was presented with a fait accompli: due to the flag, there were no more places available in the program (read: college, read: dormitory). Perhaps there would be a place in another dormitory, for teachers, if the girl removed the flag and promised not to promote LGBTQ in the Ukrainian Catholic University. In addition, they compared the rainbow flag to the Russian tricolor. This, I remind you, is happening in the same year that the Vatican allowed gays to enter seminaries.

Even from a Christian perspective, the situation reeks of outright absurdity: an institution that, according to its own program, is supposed to educate proper Christians, refuses to educate a proper Christian woman, giving preference to more educated Christians. And within the framework of a secular state, no matter how beautifully the UCU describes its evangelical dormitory with sermons and prayers (it is unclear, by the way, how exactly it is presented in state accreditation documents), this is a clear violation of the Ukrainian constitution. Because for graduate Maksym Turkevych, who is certainly not fooled by the euphemistic language of the university's documents, it is obvious: "It seems strange that someone would hope to publicly declare a position that contradicts the position of the community, but at the same time receive some additional ‘benefits’ from this institution" (we are still talking about one emoji on an inactive social network, yes). And even if Paraska Kurochkina and her family do not want to take the case to court (let's be realistic, ultimately to the European Court of Human Rights), for all other Ukrainians (who in recent years have been attracted there primarily by the city's distance from regular explosions, multiplied by its reputation in certain circles as one of the best universities in the country), who are willing to pay for the far from cheap education at this Lviv institution, an effective warning has been sounded: the policy of the institution with the word “Catholic” in its name is radically at odds with the Catholic catechism. For some Christians, who, unlike some other Christians, are consistent in their views, this may be a convincing argument to look for a place to educate their child elsewhere.

Today, the university made a second attempt to explain its position, beginning its statement with a reference to the wave of “aggression and censorship” directed at it. After promising to “improve the format of interviews with candidates” and “improve communication about the criteria for admission to this program,” communication fails for the second time in the same statement. Read carefully: "Every person is a child of God, infinitely valuable in God's eyes and deserving of respect and recognition of their God-given dignity. This is not easy to put into practice when another person professes views that contradict the teachings of the Gospel. We must make every effort to learn to interact with others as Christ did."

Is it difficult to respect human dignity when a person professes views that contradict the teachings of the Gospel? To interact with others as Christ did is to kick out anyone who does not look like a sufficiently devout child of God, right? It took me over an hour to understand the meaning of this paragraph, and in the end, I had to admit: you don't have to understand it, you have to believe it.

Next comes a classic substitution of concepts: the request to students, teachers, employees, and graduates to “once again carefully review the worldview documents” and the willingness to hold meetings for joint discussion sound like an ultimatum to everyone on the list who is in any way dependent on the university, either materially or reputationally, rather than a willingness to admit mistakes. This is how it is interpreted by all those who find it more convenient to pretend that the university has really made some sober conclusions, rather than desperately trying to plug the breach, but at the same time not straying from the liberal-conservative institution in which it is held by the desire to get as many donations as possible.

Former UCU lecturer Otar Dovzhenko asserts: “The financial model of the university's existence is largely dependent on the most conservative part of the Ukrainian diaspora in North America.” It is them, he says, that the rectorate is afraid of losing, because "there have been repeated attempts to harm the university by promoting the message to diaspora donors: 'Look, there are sodomites here, don't give them money. It is a pity that the UCU does not publish an open list of its foreign patrons on its website, unlike the legally verified moral ultimatum. It would be interesting to hear their public opinion on this matter as well.