Everyone of
us has seen a movie, where in one scene people gather around a radio to listen and discuss the latest bulleting from the escalating tensions between the European powers during
the 1930s. While writing this I get the feeling, that I recently got a glimpse
on how these people felt.
After a
full-day of ramping up information over the quickly unfolding tensions in
Ukraine, I was invited to a dinner. It was to commemorate the Estonian Independence Day, which gloomily happened to be the same day the Ukrainian invasion started. Under
the circumstances few felt like transferring their festivities to town.
Likewise, we gathered around a living room table.
At the
dinner table we were four adults strong with the kids playing around our feet.
If one wanted a diverse maidan for discussing the inescapable topic on
everyone’s mind, our table would have been a top pick. A Ukrainian lady, two
Estonians, a Finn and a Soviet-born lady. The Ukrainian lady nervously tinkered
with her phone, in wait for news from her aunt’s family residing near the
border of Belorussia. Earlier the day, she had seen a video clip showing southbound Russian BMP-2 assault tanks ploughing on their street. Under
the circumstances, it felt reasonable to drink for the Estonian government’s
wisdom to make the rights choices for its subjects.
The table set-up could have been from a late thirties’ Finnish village school, where the community members gathered around a receiver to listen to the latest development between Russian-Finnish relations. There would have been those bittered by the 1918 civil war sitting on one wall of the class room criticizing the war-mongering of the whites on the opposite side. To maintain calm relations among our motley crew, all sides had to be allowed to explain their respective cases in a manner best suited for their position. A Clausewitzian doctrine teaches an attack is often the best defense. In the exchange that followed the Ukrainian was questioned for not securing the sovereignty of the peoples in Lugansk and Donetsk. When outnumbered one has to pick their fights.
Naturally,
this put the rest of us in a difficult position. Should we have used our
unified strength and call a qualitative majority vote to decide what was right and risk a severe deterioration
of otherwise good personal relationships? We had that to think about and, of course, the
children seeking refuge from their parents’ lap. We found our alliance unable
to prevent the assault. There was too much to lose in an open confrontation. We
found ourselves overshadowed by another Clausewitzian aphorism when a single
power has a dispute with an allied force, the single power has an advantage, for
it alone chooses its concessions.
To direct
the conversation elsewhere for a moment, I asked the oldest kid in Estonian
what were his thoughts on the situation. He had been sitting quite silently on
the margins of our discussion. A teenage boy, understanding his conflict of
interest, did not want to comment. He wished to remain neutral.
At the same time on the main battlefront, we had exhausted our resources of red wine and brandy, and were growing tired of the trench warfare, where the arguments thrown back and forth had lost their nib. We were ready to look for a settlement suited for all to leave a good taste in mouth before we departed in our respective directions. So, we shook hands on it, hugged and kissed and wished for good night and went home.
Later, I
was thinking about the children’s part in that play. Despite both the ladies
suffering several glancing hits, we - the adults - in general had kept our cool.
The children, on the other hand, probably did not understand the dialectics the
same way. They only saw a clash between the authorities and sought refuge from
their parents. Much the same way the ordinary Ukrainians left on the harm’s way
are doing at the moment. If they are not received, or the parent becomes
indisposed, the children will run elsewhere or grow quiet.
Bottom line
is that there is room for talking politics as long as the guns remain silent.
To use a third Clausewitzian banality war is the continuation of politics by
other means. In Ukraine the time for talking has passed for now. Perhaps the
two sides will return to talking politics at some point. But meanwhile, for
those who like the talk-jobs, it is supremely important in the current
situation to start preparing for the ones in need. It may well be that when
handshakes are done and it’s time to go home, there are some who do not have a
home to go to. It serves as a leverage in peace negotiations to have developed a sustainable mentality for dealing with the humanitarian scramble. Those human beings need to be convinced they still have a place
in this world.
The way we pledge
our loyalties is how we will be held accountable for in the future. Neutrality and
inaction of adults in this case is different from that of children. What our
Independence Day dinner taught me was that the contemplations the world leaders
are going through at the moment are very similar to those we all need to negotiate
in our hearts. Many are answering already with donations. Yet, in the coming weeks we need to brace ourselves for the aftermath that
follows when the guns fall silent and the dust settles on the Ukrainian steppe. For Ukrainians the battle is on, but ours is just beginning.
Answering to the cry of those in need, to nurture them in times of trouble, is of utmost importance in mitigating human suffering. It is also how you temper alliances with your neighbors. We Europeans dropped the ball last time there was a greater movement of people in need from Syria. We Finns need to see the sea between the continent and the peninsula not as a bulwark in front of us that can be used to fend-off those troubles. Rather, it ought to be borne in mind that one day that same sea might be behind our very own backs.
Ja seda silmas pidades veel kord: Head iseseisvuspäeva
Thank you, excuse me and good bye!- Halfassed chef
