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    How Russia Views the Election Aftermath in Belarus

    In Moscow, all eyes are on Belarus. Russia and Belarus are intimately connected, so political actors in Russia feel an immediate connection with developments there.

    In formal terms, the two countries form a “union state” and an economic and defense community. Belarus is Moscow’s closest ally and a linchpin for Russian neighborhood policy. For two decades, Russia has funded and subsidized Belarus’ state and economy. This has become a high price for a complicated relationship, as Belarusian President Alexander Lukashenko consistently — and successfully — spurns Russian attempts to deepen integration.

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    Heading a joint state in Moscow had been raised as an option for keeping Russian President Vladimir Putin in power after 2024. Lukashenko was less than enthusiastic and turned, as always in moments of tension with Moscow, to the European Union. That variant is off the table, now that the amended Russian Constitution permits Putin two more terms in the Kremlin.

    A Lack of Distance

    Despite growing political differences, Moscow continues to support Lukashenko through his latest domestic political travails. Official figures put his share of the presidential vote at 80%. The candidate of the united opposition, Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya, had just 10%, according to the Central Election Commission. Opposition exit polls paint a very different picture, with some showing the proportions exactly inverted.

    Since the announcement of the results on August 9, the country has seen ongoing mass demonstrations, to which the security forces have responded with brutality. Nevertheless, President Putin congratulated Lukashenko on his “victory” as expected.

    The Russian political discourse pays very close attention to developments in Belarus, reflecting a persistent post-imperial lack of distance to its sovereign neighbors. Looking at the Russian discussion, one might forget that there actually is a border between Russia and Belarus, much as was the case following the Ukrainian presidential election in 2019.

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    Another reason for this closeness lies in the similarity of the political systems. Both are aging autocracies that are out of touch with the societies they rule and suffer rapidly evaporating legitimacy. The economic crisis triggered by the COVID-19 pandemic is tangibly accelerating these processes in both states.

    The Russian state media tend to play down the significance of the events and push a geopolitical interpretation in which the protesters are a minority controlled by hostile Western actors. They would not exist without Western support, it is asserted. The objective of Western policy is said to be reducing Russian influence in the region and, ultimately, “regime change” in Moscow. In other words, the issue is not liberty but geopolitical rivalry.

    In this understanding, the trouble in Minsk is just the latest in a long series of Western plots against Russia — following the 2014 Euromaidan in Ukraine and the “color revolutions” of the early 2000s. The needs of Belarusian society are completely ignored.

    Russia’s independent media, on the other hand, seek to present a realistic picture, concentrating on developments within Belarus and Lukashenko’s loss of public legitimacy. Belarus is also treated as a template for Russia’s own political future. Comparisons are frequently drawn with the ongoing protests in Khabarovsk, with speculation whether Minsk 2020 might be Moscow 2024.

    Russian Intervention?

    Foreign policy analysts in Moscow do not believe that Tsikhanouskaya can expect Western support. The European Union is divided, they note, weakened by COVID-19 and preoccupied with internal matters, while the United States is generally incapable of coherent foreign policy action. The regime will weather the storm, they believe, but emerge from it weakened.

    This, in turn, will increase Lukashenko’s dependency on Moscow. Regime-loyal and more critical foreign policy experts alike concur that Russia will ultimately profit from the situation in Minsk without itself having to intervene politically or militarily.

    The coming days will tell whether that assumption is correct. The regime in Minsk may have lost touch with the realities of Belarusian society, but it has good prospects of survival as long as the state apparatus backs Lukashenko and Russia maintains its support.

    But if the unrest grows to paralyze the country, a Russian intervention cannot be excluded. The costs would be enormous, in view of the pandemic and the economic crisis. And an intervention could also harm the Kremlin domestically, where it has its own legitimacy problems. On the other hand, it would not be the first time Moscow chose geopolitics and great power bravado over economic and political reason. And Russia’s rulers are still happy to ride roughshod over society, both at home and in Belarus.

    The EU cannot overlook the massive election fraud and the brutality of the security forces against unarmed demonstrators. It should back the demand for new elections, offer mediation and impose additional sanctions if the regime refuses to alter its current stance. But in the process, it should do everything it can to preserve contacts within Belarusian society. Clear communication with Moscow is vital, both to float possible solutions and to lay out the costs of intervention. There is no need to fear a quarrel — the EU has been in a conflict with Russia for a long time already.

    *[This article was originally published by the German Institute for International and Security Affairs (SWP), which advises the German government and Bundestag on all questions relating to foreign and security policy.]

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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    Boris Johnson Takes England, and COVID-19, Back to Square One

    Not only has UK Prime Minister Boris Johnson failed to learn from other countries’ dealings with COVID-19, he has stubbornly refused to learn from his own experience. He is the true king of fools. It would be laughable were it not for the tens of thousands of deaths he and his government are responsible for.

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    On March 23, Johnson led England into a lockdown. It was far too late. In May, he led the country out of lockdown in what was supposed to be an incremental fashion. It was far too early. It was also confusing, chaotic and only encouraged people to abandon all pretense long before the final restrictions were lifted in July and August. Johnson is now back where he started, declaring, as he did before March 23, that normality and the economy must be preserved at all costs. As before, infection rates are on the rise, especially in London and parts of the north. As before, these facts are being ignored. Under no circumstances will a second lockdown be contemplated, nor will schools close after September 1. Responses to any future outbreaks will be localized and short term.

    If Possible

    The guidance being handed to England’s hapless schools is remarkably similar to that issued back in January, February and March: wash your hands, clean surfaces and, if possible, keep your distance from each other. (The government adds “if possible” to its documents because it knows full well that such distancing is impossible in most schools and in most classrooms.) As before, teachers or children who are clinically vulnerable — or who are shielding a husband or wife, a mother or father, a daughter or son who is clinically vulnerable — can attend school and should do so when the new term starts in early September.

    If you are a parent who is determined to keep your child at home, you will be fined, as before, by the secretary of state for education. And, as before, there will be no testing unless someone displays symptoms. There is, however, one innovation being introduced this time around: children, parents and staff who do show any symptoms are asked to get themselves tested, to trace contacts and to report their findings to the school.

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    Johnson’s motivation for all this nonsense is the economy. He is seemingly and willfully unaware that it tanked by a whopping 20% of GDP in the first quarter, compared to just under 12% across the EU. This is not because Johnson locked down too early and for too long, but because he didn’t lock down early enough or for long enough and didn’t take that breathing space to organize an effective track-and-trace regime or institute a mask-wearing culture. He also failed to engage with local governments and instead treated them with contempt and withheld from them the information they needed to protect the vulnerable. He has, in other words, assiduously ignored the best strategies that are on public display in China, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Macao and South Korea. These include the restriction of movement and physical distancing, rapid identification of positive and suspected cases through mass testing, and the immediate isolation of positive and suspected cases with appropriate treatment rendered.

    The pillars of Seoul’s response, for example, are promptness and transparency, and a willingness to learn from the 2015 MERS outbreak. Government, local and national, did not hesitate: It tested aggressively, launched epidemiological investigations and imposed quarantines, shared information and began disinfection efforts.

    South Korea saw its first confirmed case of COVID-19 on January 23. Within a week, hand sanitizers and disposable masks were being distributed for free on public transport, and seats and handles were being disinfected. Within 16 days of the first case, museums, galleries and other cultural venues, along with taxis, subways and buses, were being sterilized with ever more frequency, and people who had been exposed were quarantined and given specialist medical care. Within four weeks, screening stations were up and running around the clock. Risky venues such as bars and cafes were closed, and treatment was being extended to citizens with suspected COVID-19 symptoms. Within five weeks, public facilities were shut.

    Unsurprising Results

    In the UK, within five weeks of the first confirmed case on January 29, Johnson, on the best scientific advice the country could muster, had done almost nothing. The government’s modeling group had advised that isolation and tracking wouldn’t do much other than delay the peak of the epidemic. Life might as well go on as normal. Masks were not needed. More proactive measures were not advised until six weeks after the first case. On March 3, Johnson’s government, having listened to the great and the good of Britain’s scientific community, declared that it would be better if people did not shake hands. That same day, Johnson proudly boasted that he had been shaking hands with everyone, including coronavirus patients.

    The results are as stark as they are unsurprising. While the UK has had more than 60,000 deaths and has taken the worst hit to its GDP year on year in the second quarter in 64 years, just over 300 people have died from the virus in South Korea, its economy grew through the first quarter and is expected to manage around -0.8% over the year. Even in the Philippines, where the government has been equally as irresponsible as Johnson’s, there are those who see the choice between keeping the economy going and tackling COVID-19 as an entirely fictitious one.

    Yet perhaps the most exasperating thing about this whole sorry debacle — surely the worst exhibition of foolhardiness and incompetence since the 1853 Crimea campaign, the First World War, Chamberlin’s policy of appeasement or Britain’s chaotic and bloody withdrawal from India (take your pick) — is the fact that Boris Johnson is still in Number 10. Not so long ago, a few weeks before the outbreak, I heard a young lecturer, a social psychologist from China, say that the English, so used to being smothered by their government and their aristocracy, are most at ease as placid and compliant followers. I’m beginning to see what she meant.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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    It’s Time the West Moved Past Its Misconceptions About Ukraine

    My service as a Peace Corps volunteer in Ukraine between 2018 and 2020 allowed me to witness truly historic moments as they happened, whether it was the country’s biggest-ever Pride parade or the landslide election of a comedian to the office of president. Ukraine was host to the largest Peace Corps contingent in the world prior to the outbreak of COVID-19, a reality that attests to a mutual interest in maintaining close ties between both the peoples of the two countries and their respective governments. My days were filled with curious Ukrainians asking me about life in the US, and I had the honor to prepare students who had won prestigious scholarships to go live and study in US high schools for a year.

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    Nonetheless, I have been struck by the lack of general interest or knowledge about Ukraine shown by my community in the US. Most of my friends and family knew about Chernobyl — the site of one of the world’s worst nuclear disasters that took place in 1986 — but they had few other points of reference for asking about my time in Ukraine. While this is most likely just another example of the average citizen’s obtuseness about world affairs, this ignorance can give rise to misperceptions that are then articulated at the highest level, such as the harshly negative picture painted of Ukraine during the 2019-2020 impeachment trial of President Donald Trump.

    As a returned Peace Corps volunteer and someone passionate about international engagement, here are four things that I wish everyone knew about Ukraine today. 

    US Involvement in Ukraine

    First and foremost, both countries have mattered to each other for a long time. It’s just that Ukraine is a country that Americans just can’t stop forgetting about. The United States inherited a deeply complicated relationship with Eastern Europe as the Soviet Union emerged from the ruins of imperial Russia, but it was Herbert Hoover’s American Relief Administration that provided the aid that saved tens of thousands of Soviet citizens from perishing in the manmade famine of 1921.

    Fast-forward 70 years, and Ukraine’s popular movement toward independence was marred by then-President George H. W. Bush’s “Chicken Kiev” speech in 1991, urging Ukrainians to not be hasty about trying to break away from the Soviet Union and form their own sovereign nation. The country then quickly faded from the Western public eye, with its only enduring legacy enshrined in the board game Risk as a huge yet indefensible territory holding the keys to Europe.

    This popular culture placeholder might have accidentally captured geopolitical thinking, with policymakers well aware of the historic role of Ukrainian territory as a buffer state and agricultural powerhouse. Nevertheless, in the 1990s, most Americans would only be able to identify Ukraine in a mocking way, laughing with Kramer and Newman at a heavily-accented stranger angrily protesting that “Ukraine is game to you!”

    The country’s 2014 Revolution of Dignity propelled the country back into US news coverage. Ukraine became a staple of Western media and public handwringing as neighboring Russia annexed Crimea and sent troops and armaments into Ukraine’s eastern territories. This furor subsided amidst the signing of a (constantly violated) ceasefire, and US and European audiences seemed to forget about the conflict, which has taken over 10,000 civilian lives and displaced 1.5 million people to date. Now, Ukraine has reappeared once again as part of President Trump’s recent impeachment trial and as a domestic hacky-sack for November’s presidential election. 

    Today, Ukraine is still a geostrategically vital country. Initial fraternal appreciation for the Russian people and state following independence have collapsed amidst Russian armed interventions in Crimea, Donetsk and Luhansk. There is considerable scholarly debate about what Russia’s vision for its involvement was and to what extent the conflict is a knee-jerk reaction, a cynical bargaining tactic or possibly even a Ukrainian civil war. Crimea has long played host to first the Soviet and then the Russian fleet, while the natural resources and the heavy industry located in the eastern provinces also play a role in fueling the cycle of violence.

    Just as Complex

    Second, much like Americans, Ukrainians are divided in their attitude toward the costs of conflict. At the school where I worked as a Peace Corps volunteer, there is a plaque, and annual assemblies, dedicated to an alumnus who was killed after volunteering to fight. That being said, I also had discussions with young Ukrainians who insisted that some people who volunteered just ended up sitting in the barracks, and that the army’s efforts were being undermined by corrupt officers and apathy.

    Daily life continues in a way that seems to belie the fact that part of the country is under occupation, but beyond the conversations and public events there is a palpable sense of disquiet. Many Ukrainians regard the inhabitants of occupied Luhansk and Donetsk territories as deserving of destruction because of their separatist, Russia-leaning sympathies, while others stress that the conflict will only end by reengaging all Ukrainians with a federal government that can better share political and economic power with its many provinces and regions.

    While many Ukrainians still have family and friends living in Russia, the attitude toward the Russian government itself has never been so low. The capital has officially been transliterated into English as Kyiv, rather than the Russian-derived Kiev, while an intense discourse rages over what place Russian-language music should have on the radio and in movie theaters. Official events will often start or end with the stock phrase “Glory to Ukraine, glory to the heroes,” which the Russian media establishment has attempted to connect to ultra-nationalism and fascism.

    For many Ukrainians, however, the phrase is used to honor the fallen while indicating pride in their nation. Ukraine is a country that self-identifies as a historical victim of imperial oppression, and the national hero is the Cossack, representative of the democratic, horse-riding defenders of Ukrainian nationhood. The Ukrainian national anthem is somewhat reminiscent of Western anthems, with a ringing endorsement of a certain national spirit that has survived against all odds and will usher in a brighter future.

    A Bright Potential

    Third, Ukraine should not be dismissed as doomed to its past. Much of the initial excitement in the international media about the 2014 revolution, exemplified by the brave protests on Maidan Square in support of the country’s closer association with the European Union that captured the world’s attention, quickly turned to a narrative of how oligarchs and fascist elements were hijacking the popular movement. This is a favorite stalking horse of the Russian state media, but it is true that far-right elements did figure in the initial fighting both against government security forces and in the chaos following the operations in eastern Ukraine.

    Similarly, there is no avoiding the widespread corruption that has marked the history of Ukraine as an independent state. Oligarchs like Renat Akhmetov and Ihor Kolomoisky have controlled large swathes of the nation’s industries, and these robber barons inspired countless lower-level iterations.

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    Ukraine’s economy has been hamstrung by the economic consequences of the conflict in its eastern provinces with Russian-back separatists, while attempts at reform are widely seen as opposed by corrupt officials and their oligarch sponsors. One friend of mine in Korostyshiv talked despairingly about Ukraine’s future and opined that the country should simply be divided between Poland and Russia. This rare perspective certainly attests to the dim view that many younger Ukrainians have for the future of their country.

    The nation has undoubtedly suffered from a population drain as Ukrainians leave for other countries in pursuit of higher wages, and the cultural implications of this exodus are far reaching. A 2015 hit song called “I’m Going to Mom” by the acclaimed Ukrainian pop-parody group Dzidzio followed a fictional protagonist as he traveled to visit his mother, whom he had not seen in 15 years, in distant Portugal. Everyone knows someone who has left the country, and this lends itself to an atmosphere that encourages pessimism about the future.

    Additionally, Ukrainians continue to harbor deep-seated suspicion about the ability of the government to protect property and civil rights. Popular resentment of oppressive Soviet governments was compounded by flagrantly corrupt Ukrainian governments following independence, and protests such as the 2004 Orange Revolution have been seen as failing to deliver meaningful change.

    The progress of the national conversation under current President Volodymyr Zelensky speaks to a genuine attempt to combat these forces. It is perhaps telling that his predecessor, Petro Poroshenko, a fabulously wealthy chocolate magnate, running on an “Army, Language, Faith” platform, was beaten in a landslide in last year’s election by Zelensky, a comedic actor with no political experience who campaigned on a vague anti-corruption platform. While Poroshenko’s positioning had become important for establishing a new Ukraine as viable and separate from Russia, the Ukrainian people explicitly called for further progress.

    If Poroshenko was the ardent nationalist defender of Ukrainian values, then Zelensky has attempted to shift the national tone toward a more inclusive, forward-looking vision of what it means to be Ukrainian.

    This has met with opposition, particularly as the conflict in the east kills Ukrainian soldiers every day and impatience grows with the progress of the Zelensky administration is making against systemic corruption. Many families I knew regarded him as a Kremlin-backed stooge, while others thought that his good intentions could not be accomplished given the seriousness of the economic situation.

    The excitement and hype surrounding anti-corruption and ending the conflict with Russia have certainly diminished, despite a raft of important legislative decisions and massive changes in the prosecutorial and police services. The firing earlier this year of a reformist prosecutor general and decreasing public support seem to paint a picture of an agenda that is falling short as it comes up against entrenched regional and criminal interests. While viewed more or less as a decent person, President Zelensky finds himself between the hottest of frying pans and the fire.

    That being said, there is a clear narrative of attempting to move forward toward a new, hybrid Ukraine that can draw closer to Europe. Public discourse can be witheringly negative about future prospects, but the fact that observers can opine about the virtues of one reformist candidate over another speaks to an underlying paradigm shift that has slowly been occurring. The war in the east has in many ways forced Ukraine to grapple with its own cultural and national identity. There is a sense of needing to seize the moment and an understanding that a country with such rich resources and human capital has the potential to become great again.  

    History Matters

    Finally, Ukraine has a wide spectrum of ideas about its identity and historical legacy. The country is multilingual in a way that is difficult for many outside observers grasp, with the Ukrainian and Russian languages not necessarily linked to ethnicity or political viewpoint. Usage can differ wildly by community, and large swathes of Ukraine speak a patois mixed between Ukrainian and Polish or Ukrainian and Russian. With vanishingly small state pensions (sometimes as little as $50 a month) and few support services, many older Ukrainians genuinely believe that life under the Soviet Union was better than it is now.

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    The younger generation is the reverse, with the national conversation now oriented toward coming to terms with the atrocities and oppression that occurred under the Soviet regime while embracing international engagement.

    The territory of Ukraine has historically been divided between the Austro-Hungarian and the Russian empires, and later the Soviet Union, and those divisions continue to manifest themselves in contemporary culture and politics. However, it is too common that observers see an East-West divide as the defining feature of Ukraine. I suggest looking at it as something akin to regions in the United States: New England and the South had vastly different historical experiences, which can be tied to contemporary politics. However, this would ignore a host of other historical and contemporary factors. The people of Ukraine have collectively undergone a long series of hardships and crises.

    Much as Western nations are being called upon to reexamine their national identity and the sins of the past, so Ukrainians now grapple with what kind of society they want to leave for their children. As Ukraine is talked about in the upcoming months, we must remember that it is a complex society that is multifaceted in its viewpoints, and it is slowly overcoming the many obstacles history has placed in its way. One cannot define a country solely on the basis of its corruption scandals or bizarre-sounding domestic news stories. If there is one final takeaway, however: please don’t call it “the Ukraine.” This would be faintly analogous to walking into a modern forum and trying to call the US “the colonies.”

    While the Ukrainian schoolchildren that I worked with will undoubtedly face many problems moving forward, they are not living in the blighted, defunct Ukraine that President Trump’s impeachment defense wanted to sell to the American public. In hindsight, it seems laughable that a US administration with its own raft of suspected corrupt enterprises would try to play up the struggles of another country. If anything, the tenor of public discussion in Ukraine should serve as an example that moments of national crisis can help a country to heal old divisions and move toward a brighter future.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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    Belarus Is Not a Unique Case

    The rigged election of President Alexander Lukashenko of Belarus has provoked massive protests among the citizenry. The uprising appears to have radically destabilized the authority of Lukashenko’s government. The New York Times offers this assessment: “Mr. Lukashenko’s security apparatus showing no sign of wavering in its support for his government, the president may survive the current storm. But he has lost the aura of an invincible popular leader.”

    Here is today’s 3D definition:

    Invincible:

    A quality that includes the idea of untouchable, invulnerable, immune and applied for long periods of time to despots, powerful oligarchs, blackmailers and more generally the very rich, who while theoretically accountable before the law can afford legal teams capable of parrying all threats

    Contextual Note

    The case of Belarus stands out in an international landscape at a moment of history in which the populations of many nations are now prone to protest every government’s handling of the COVID-19 pandemic. The Times describes Lukashenko as “fighting for his political life, besieged by protests across his country and a tsunami of international criticism.” 

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    No leader is truly invincible. But no recognized means exist for wresting power from a leader who controls the military, especially in a nation such as Belarus whose population has never had any serious expectations of democratic elections being anything more than a public ritual to confirm the existing power structure.

    Anna Romandash, writing for Fair Observer, described the depth of a crisis that goes far deeper than protests over election results or the government’s handling of the COVID-19 pandemic. “However, the events leading up to the election demonstrated that some big changes were taking place in Belarus,” Romandash writes. The Ukrainian journalist adds that “the level of popular dissatisfaction has reached its all-time high, with people becoming increasingly disillusioned with the regime and its handling of the many crises facing Belarus.” 

    The author’s pessimistic conclusion that “with the resources at his disposal, Lukashenko can remain in power unless both domestic and external pressure are applied equally strongly and consistently” is sadly but undoubtedly true. In particular, it is difficult to imagine what kind of external pressure — from the West, Russia or both combined — might unseat Lukashenko.

    In more ways than one, this illustrates the dilemma facing almost all nations across the globe, one brought into focus by the pandemic. The presence of an unprecedented, uncontrollable threat to public health has highlighted other often more local contradictions the populations of many nations are faced with. The frustration with increasing levels of economic and sanitary uncertainty has provoked multiple reactions among those who feel themselves the victims of forces that appear devoid of accountability. This inevitably leads to the discrediting and destabilizing of all forms of existing authority.

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    In some places — the US, France, the UK, for example — the deeper issue may be racial inequality and police brutality. In many nations across the globe, the growing inequality of wealth and income associated with the manifest arrogance of the ruling classes on every continent may be close to reaching a breaking point. In other places, it may be the visibly growing threat to the climate itself provoking ever-increasing numbers of natural disasters in many regions. 

    This year has proved special. With all the other trends augmenting the tensions within national borders, the local mishandling of a global pandemic by so many different governments represents the straw that is breaking multiple camels’ backs.

    The reasons not just for contesting authority but for professing a deep lack of belief in its pretension to govern have been present for some time. The yellow vest movement in France, whose effects have not been erased though circumstances have halted its dynamics, represents one obvious indicator. Four years of deep political uncertainty in the UK over Brexit is another. And Donald Trump’s imposed cultural chaos is yet another. 

    The global crisis is real and profound because it entails a growing disaffection with the ideals associated with democracy and representation. Disorder will only grow, which means that the response to disorder will become more and more violent, as we are seeing today. Thanks to technology and massive investment in military equipment, governments have the means to repress practically any amount of uprising. But at some point, they run the risk of discovering the populations they supposedly govern are themselves ungovernable. What that tipping point will look like nobody knows.

    In Belarus, the BBC reports that “the level of brutality is shocking and new. Protesters and often passers-by have been targeted by people clad in black, wearing balaclavas and with no insignia or uniform.” These are the same tactics President Trump deployed in Portland to control peaceful demonstrations. Short of the utter collapse of the global economy, this may indicate what much of urban life will be like in the next few years.

    Historical Note

    The Guardian points to the historical specificity of Belarus among the nations of Eastern Europe formerly controlled by the Soviet Union. The British journal describes Belarus’ system of government as an “idiosyncratic form of autocracy” and alludes to the very real “vulnerability of Lukashenko’s hold over a country seen by neighbouring Russia as a strategic buffer against Nato and the European Union.” 

    Predictably, Russia supported Alexander Lukashenko’s claim that the protests are due to foreign meddling. But Russia’s support of an ally in the resistance to European incursion may be far from absolute. According to The Moscow Times, Russian President Vladimir Putin confirmed his commitment to “retaining a stable domestic political situation in Belarus.” 

    Russian readers will have to decide whether “stable” means defending the existing regime or seeking an original political solution to a problem that has become seriously unstable. Russian news outlets have reported on the clashes but mostly avoided showing sympathy for one side or the other.

    This contrasts with the attitude expressed by Komsomolskaya Pravda. The pro-Kremlin tabloid recognized that the official election results reflected probable fraud. It went further, accusing Lukashenko of insulting the people. And far from comforting the president’s right to hold onto power, it acknowledged his vulnerability. “The president of Belarus, guarding his ‘80%’ with bayonets, will face difficulties. He has to find a way to explain what happened on Aug. 9,” the Russian newspaper reports.

    The Wall Street Journal wasted no time by directly accusing Putin of seizing “an opportunity to reestablish [Russia’s] influence in Belarus by shoring up Mr. Lukashenko after an unprecedented wave of protests following Sunday’s vote.” This is undoubtedly true, but the historical context is far from simple. In the very recent past, as Mitch Prothero explains in an article for Business Insider, Lukashenko has demonstrated an attitude of defiance with regard to Russia. He accused Putin of interfering in the elections and even of sending 33 mercenaries to Minsk, who were arrested only days before the vote.

    Prothero explains that “Lukashenko’s long-standing ability to play the European Union to its west and Russia to its east off one another to bring in international assistance has increasingly irritated Putin.” Contradicting The Wall Street Journal, which wants its readers to believe it has a hotline to Putin’s mind, Porthero quotes these thoughts of a NATO official: “It’s not a great situation in general but doubly dangerous because nobody can say for sure what Putin will do.” The official added this pertinent remark: “This is a normal crisis for a dictator like him. What’s unusual is Russia’s confused position.”

    In many ways, this typifies the problem the West has with Eastern Europe, whether the bone of contention is Ukraine, Crimea, Belarus or even the nations such as Hungary and Slovakia that are now part of the European Union. Westerners simply lack the psychological insight required to understand the complex experience and worldview of the people who formerly lived under governments that were part of the Soviet bloc. 

    Even in the absence of the political and ideological conditions that defined the Cold War, the West insists on maintaining what amounts to a cold war reading of history. It wants everything to be reduced to a simple choice between good and evil, freedom and authoritarian control, the supposed ideals of the capitalist West and the cynicism of the authoritarian (even if no longer communist) East. But even the authority of that hitherto comfortable and well-defended ideological position has now become destabilized.

    *[In the age of Oscar Wilde and Mark Twain, another American wit, the journalist Ambrose Bierce, produced a series of satirical definitions of commonly used terms, throwing light on their hidden meanings in real discourse. Bierce eventually collected and published them as a book, The Devil’s Dictionary, in 1911. We have shamelessly appropriated his title in the interest of continuing his wholesome pedagogical effort to enlighten generations of readers of the news. Read more of The Daily Devil’s Dictionary on Fair Observer.]

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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    Art, Nature and the Exclusion of the Alien

    In light of escalating environmental crises and radical-right activism around the globe, there has been renewed academic interest in how the radical right engages with environmental issues. These analyses cover radical right-wing articulations of global and abstract climate change — often, though not always, being skeptical in one way or another — and the protection of local and nation-specific ecosystems. In doing so, these analyses employ highly specialized idioms to explain how radical-right articulations of the natural environment “legitimize” the exclusion of all those deemed to not “naturally” belong.

    However, artistic approaches offer alternatives to illuminate how the natural environment is mobilized in exclusionary projects. Two short films, mentioned in a conversation during an event hosted by the Jan van Eyck Academie’s program on environmental identities in July this year, provide useful examples.

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    Moderated by Bruno Alves de Almeida, the event aimed to understand relations “between self- and social identity and the natural environment.” While I had the opportunity to participate in this conversation, the following focuses specifically on how “Habitat 2190,” by Hanna Rullmann and Faiza Ahmad Khan, and “Oysters for Naturalization,” by Domenico Mangano and Marieke van Rooy, think about the politics of space, nature and exclusion, and non-human and human “nativeness.” While both films might thus remind viewers of radical-right arguments, they also thematize the presence of such tropes in the political mainstream.

    Oysters for Naturalization

    “Oysters for Naturalization” engages with the issue of belonging by considering the presence of the Japanese oyster in Dutch waters. As van Rooy explained during the conversation, the Japanese oyster was introduced in the beginning of the 1970s in the south of the Netherlands by oyster farmers, following a bad season for Dutch oysters. They were not expected to survive the cold waters for long, but they did end up expanding north. Intriguingly, the artists noticed that around the same time, the Dutch government arranged for Moroccans and Turks to come to the country and work, and, as in other European countries, the expectation was that these workers would “go away” too.

    Thus, the Japanese oyster in the Wadden Sea are used by the artists to examine belonging as they approach them with questions on how they (should) behave in their environment, with questions inspired by the integration exam for immigrants who want to acquire Dutch citizenship. By creating an analogy between oysters and humans, Mangano and van Rooy’s questions to oysters encourage reflection on (“ideal”) subjectivities offered through them, on exclusion and inclusion:

    The government introduces local species, which rules here a long time ago, into your habitat.

    What do you do?

    A. Conspire with family members to bring them down.

    B. Nothing. They have a right to come back.

    C. Show them who’s in charge.

    It is in this context, viewers, while seeing a moon-like landscape, listen to a Japanese oyster saying: “We have heard that they think there are too many of us. They say that we aren’t from here, that we have taken over … But what does it mean ‘to be from here?’ Our ancestors came from far away, but we have been rooted here for decades without ever leaving.” It is the notion of rootedness, or rather of not being rooted enough, which is reminiscent of references to so-called invasive species in radical-right environmental communication.

    Thus, while the artists, like the radical right, relate non-human to human movement across space, the former utilize this scenario to (though not in these terms) oppose ethnopluralism — the radical-right idea that ethnic groups have a “right to difference,” viewing them non-hierarchically and, consequently, promoting their separation as preservation and opposing the mixing of ethnicities that would endanger these collectives — and what Ken Thompson calls a “frozen moment.” Indeed, in line with communication about “invasive” species by the radical right — and often beyond, as the sheer metaphor of invasion evokes a military scenario that calls for harsh responses — ecosystems are regularly imagined as pure and stable, as being comprised by intertwined parts which, if changed (through “too much” human or non-human influx), would result in pollution and the unbalancing of the system.

    This assumes that species belong where they are now or were in relatively recent past — for example, a few hundred or thousands of years ago — and that such change is problematic. As such, the common separation of “native” from “alien” or “invasive” disregards the fundamental fact of species movement having always characterized life on Earth. In fact, van Rooy explained during the conversation that “Dutch” oysters have been added to the sea in reaction to the process started with the introduction of the Japanese oyster (though this happens to increase biodiversity), without recourse to discourses about nativeness and national identity.

    Habitat 2190

    “Habitat 2190” addresses the issue of nature and exclusion more explicitly by looking at how the establishment of the nature reserve Fort Vert at the site of the former migrant camp in Calais known as the Jungle is connected with the management of the border between France and the United Kingdom. The site was used as agricultural land until the 1960s before becoming a dump site for toxic waste. In 2015, a migrant camp was formed, but was demolished in 2016. Subsequently, the site was turned into a nature reserve. What Rullmann and Khan achieve in their film is to illuminate the intersection of security and environmental concerns, the “weaponisation of ‘nature’ and conservation management” strikingly visible in the construction of barriers. Consequently, Khan claims during the conversation that “military tactics” were “embedded in the naturing process.”

    Also designed to keep people out and prevent new settlements, the effort to rewild the site furthermore points to what “Oysters for Naturalization” addresses too: the question of what is supposedly “native,” and thus has a “natural” right to be here, and that which is considered “alien” or “invasive, and can thus be “legitimately” excluded. Here, the European Habitats Directive and its habitat type 2190 that gives the film its name are central as the artists point to the presence of an endangered orchid, Liparis loeselii.

    Although the orchid has not been seen recently at the site as Rullmann mentions during the conversation, the aim is to facilitate its reappearance there. However, this return of nature is nothing but natural: Viewers learn that not only were trees removed, but so were “invasive” plants: “It was like waste,” says one of the interviewees. As such, and as so often, the return of nature is about human choice and frozen moments. As mentioned above, the radical right too has long pitched the “native” and “naturally belonging” against the “alien” and “invasive,” but Rullmann stresses that such radical-right takes “are also very much ingrained in the way that we generally perceive nature.”

    Both films powerfully illustrate how art can stimulate critical thinking about the intersection of exclusion and the natural environment. More precisely, both films make viewers aware that the inclusion and exclusion of humans and non-humans cannot be framed as neutral or natural. Of course, this does not imply that support for endangered species and biodiversity is per se problematic. But while informed steps should be taken to support biodiversity and ecosystem functions, both films quite rightly question drawing on allegedly “neutral” and “natural” categories of “native” versus “alien” and “invasive,” and on “origin,” when doing so. Such films provide useful counternarratives to the attempts to use nature and environmental issues for the politics of exclusion.

    *[The Centre for Analysis of the Radical Right is a partner institution of Fair Observer.]

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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    Big Blow for a Stable Dictatorship: Major Protests Hit Belarus

    It’s not that Belarus hasn’t had any protests recently. It’s just they have never been this big and this bloody. The capital, Minsk, has seen the use of military machinery, grenade explosions and special forces attacking both protesters and innocent bystanders. Smaller cities are experiencing major rallies, too. At least two people have died. Hundreds have been injured and nearly 7,000 arrested.

    Journalists were attacked. Not that they were not attacked before, but again, it was never on a scale this massive and brutal. The regime blocked some of the popular media platforms which published independent content. I learned about some of my colleagues being detained. They were missing for days — no one knew what happened to them. Then, suddenly, the law enforcers decided to reveal that the journalists were, in fact, detained and that charges were being pressed against them.

    Belarus Election Unleashes Unprecedented Anti-Government Protests

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    When asked about the protests, Lukashenko rather unoriginally responded that they were being directed and funded from abroad. He also claimed that it was the foreign interference that blocked the internet in the country. Despite a lack of information and increasing violence, people managed to communicate via VPN and some encrypted channels. They keep protesting.

    Neither Free nor Fair

    Belarusians took to the streets on the evening of August 9, as voting stations were shutting down. This was hours before the incumbent president, Alexander Lukashenko, was announced to have won 80% of the vote in an election widely claimed to be fraudulent that the EU called “neither free nor fair.” Lukashenko’s victory means a sixth term — and at least five more years — in office. He has ruled the country for 26 years already and is the only president independent Belarus has ever had.

    Embed from Getty Images

    Throughout his rule, Lukashenko had a low track record on human rights and managed to extend a nearly total control over the media, the military and the courts. He nearly succeeded in crushing all dissent and opposition. Previous protests where either brutally dispersed or died down on their own. However, the events leading to Sundays’ election demonstrated that some big changes were taking place in Belarus.

    First of all, the opposition has managed to unite around an unlikely leader, Svetlana Tikhanovskaya, whose husband, a popular vlogger-turned-candidate Sergei Tikhanovsky, was arrested and blocked from standing in the election. Second of all, the level of popular dissatisfaction has reached its all-time high, with people becoming increasingly disillusioned with the regime and its handling of the many crises facing Belarus. The pre-election protests, combined with post-election rallies, in Minsk as well as other major cities, have attracted the biggest crowds in the country’s modern history.

    On election day, people could not vote properly. There were long lines at voting stations, and many were unable to enter at all. The regime spoke about an unusually high rate of early voting. Some foreign journalists were detained and deported, and the internet worked only intermittently. Independent observers were detained across the country following reports of violations, and the OSCE’s Office for Democratic Institutions and Human Rights has withdrawn its mission, leaving “no credible observers overseeing the election.”

    No Surprises

    Consequently, the announcement of Lukashenko’s sweeping victory surprised no one. It was also not surprising that people took to the streets to contest the result. What was surprising was the scale of the protests, their continuation despite a vicious crackdown and the level of fear that the regime has shown when attacking the demonstrators. Many people are missing, presumably detained, with widespread reports of inhumane treatment and beatings. The pictures of bloodied marchers on the streets of Minsk show the dangers of fighting for a right as basic as free elections.

    Tikhanovskaya fled the country to neighboring Lithuania, following a brief disappearance after a visit to the election commission to file an appeal. She later recorded a video where she asked people not to protest. Many speculate she’s being blackmailed by the regime.

    The protests have continued for four days, with a little dialogue between the opposing sides. Women have come out wearing white, with people forming human support chains, while doctors and workers at a number of factories across the country have walked out in protest. On August 12, more than 500 CEOs, investors and employees in the IT sector — the pride of Belarusian economy — have signed a letter calling for an end to violence and a new election, threatening to move their businesses elsewhere. There will potentially be an escalation or an attempt to quash the protest movement by the increasing use of force.

    It is perhaps logical to be hopeful and to expect that change will come so that Belarus can transform into a more transparent country where human rights are respected and where citizens can vote, express themselves, enjoy peace and stability, and elect representatives who will follow democratic principles. However, even now, it’s hard to predict what happens next.

    The protests have made a big crack in what is often referred to as Europe’s last dictatorship, but the regime remains strong. During his rule, Lukashenko had managed to maneuver Belarus between an assertive Russia while still maintaining limited contact with European leaders. So far, Germany has called for a reintroduction of sanctions that were lifted in 2016 to bolster cooperation, and Poland wants an emergency summit to discuss what the EU has condemned as “disproportionate and unacceptable state violence against peaceful protesters.” But with the resources at his disposal, Lukashenko can remain in power unless both domestic and external pressure are applied equally strongly and consistently. The following days will show how the domestic situation evolves, and whether an external response will follow.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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    Belarus Election Unleashes Unprecedented Anti-Government Protests

    The victory of Alexander Lukashenko in Sunday’s presidential election in Belarus was expected. It would take a certain level of naiveté to believe that any opposition candidate could unseat the strongman who has ruled over the post-Soviet state for over a quarter of a century. The institutional system of Belarus — the security services, the constitution, the courts and election officials — are firmly under the president’s control. After all, he is nicknamed “bat’ka,” a familiarly affectionate term for “dad” — the father of modern Belarus. However, the incumbent’s dire approval ratings in unofficial polling earned him another nickname, “Sasha 3%,” which has been appearing as graffiti across cities, on homemade signs and t-shirts (as a portmanteau with the Russian word for “psychosis,” ПСИХ03%.)

    Those in Belarus who were visibly ready for change took to the streets already in the run-up to the election. Complaints over economic stagnation have been perennial, but these are more apparent in this period of a global financial crisis. The people of Belarus look to neighboring Poland and its vast social services programs with some envy, even though the government of Andrzej Duda has just faced its own headline-grabbing election.

    What’s Going On in Belarus?

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    Belarusians are also frustrated with Lukashenko’s approach to COVID-19. He did not mandate a national lockdown, allowed the continuation of sporting events with crowds in the stands, stating that vodka, banya (sauna) and tractor work in the fresh air acted as protection, and called proactive measures “a frenzy and psychosis.” Still, the virus found its victims, with over 69,000 infections and 592 deaths to date. Lukashenko himself claimed he survived the virus.

    Public Anger

    The protest movement that brought massive crowds onto the streets before the election is unique in many ways. Its leader, Svetlana Tikhanovskaya, a teacher and interpreter, is not a politician by trade. She registered as an independent candidate after her husband Sergey, a presidential candidate running against the incumbent, was arrested and jailed by the authorities. The mother of two said her decision to continue her husband’s campaign was done “out of love” for him.

    The rise of a female politician — in fact, all three challengers to Lukashenko’s presidency were women — exposed issues rooted in misogyny. While stating his overall respect for women, Lukashenko expressed the opinion that a woman was not prepared to lead a country like Belarus because its “society is not mature enough to vote for a woman,” only to add that any theoretical female president would “collapse, poor thing.” These sentiments were echoed by reports that female political challengers typically face threats of sexual violence, assault and state intervention into their families.

    Tikhanovskaya stated that she indeed was on the receiving end of such intimidations and sent her children abroad in fear they would be taken from her and placed in an orphanage. (In a video released following her disappearance the night after the election, Tikhanovskaya, visibly distressed, mentions children again, saying she hopes no one ever faces the choice she had to make, suggesting pressure.) But even despite these threats, Maria Kolesnikova, a member of the campaign team for another detained opposition figure, Viktor Babariko, and Veronika Tsepkalo, the wife of former Belarusian ambassador to the United States, Valery Tsepkalo (another barred candidate), joined forces with Tikhanovskaya and led the rallies.

    These eruptions of public anger were the largest and most prolonged since the demonstrations over the so-called law against social parasites, which mandated that those who work less than six months a year compensate the government $250 for lost taxes, forced a U-turn. Tens of thousands took to the streets of Minsk at the end of July, with momentum spreading to other major cities like Brest, Gomel, Grodno and Vitebsk. In the capital, some 63,000 people attended a pro-Tikhanovskaya rally in what some suggested could have been “the most massive political rally in Belarus history” not seen since the 1990s. However, Belarusian law enforcement and security services wasted no time in making numerous arrests.

    A recent event demonstrated just how unprepared the Lukashenko administration is to counter such a vast protest moment. Days prior to the election, the government planned a music fest in central Minsk to bolster support ahead of the election. Some 7,000 protesters organized on social media and showed up to the event with the intention to disrupt it. In a show of solidarity, sound engineers Kiryl Halanau and Uladzislau Sakalouski played the song “Changes!” by the Soviet rock band Kino, one of the anthems of the final years of the USSR, followed by chants of “Long live Belarus!” from the crowd. Halanau and Sakalouski were consequently arrested and convicted to 10 days in jail, but the incident showed that the police struggled to cover all protest locations at all times.

    No Peaceful Exit

    Once the electoral commission announced that Lukashenko had been reelected with 80.23% of the vote compared to 9.9% accrued by Tikhanovskaya, the streets of Belarus filled with voices of discontent yet again. No one accepted these results as legitimate, and Tikhanovskaya even points out there were cases in which she led by 70%-90% at certain polling stations. In fact, Tikhanovskaya considers herself the winner, though she does not seek power. Rather, her ideal situation includes talks between a unified opposition and the government so that Lukashenko can have a peaceful exit from power.

    Even before the polls closed, military and police vehicles were on display throughout Minsk, with law enforcement and security services cracking down as protests began to spark across the capital and beyond. While the use of rubber bullets and flash grenades is in line with Western policing measures, as seen in the protests that have rocked the United States recently, but the limits of acceptability in one jurisdiction do not necessarily apply in another.

    Over 3,000 protesters were arrested, with the Belarusian authorities reporting 39 police and over 50 civilian casualties, including one death, which the Belarusian Ministry of Health slammed as “fake news.” The Belarusian Association of Journalists reports over 50 instances of detention and beating of journalists since August 4, and an internet blackout has been imposed as the clashes began on Sunday night. In the meantime, Belarusian state TV streams footage of badgers and other forest-related activities.

    Embed from Getty Images

    So, where does the Belarusian protest movement go from here? The organizers have stated that they are committed to long-term protests. It will be interesting to see how all these plans unfold, given the severity of the government response. Tikhanovskaya has already fled to Lithuania, issuing what appears to be a forced statement calling for an end to violence, following her detention at the central electoral commission office on Sunday. Lukashenko has vowed to quash any and all opposition protesters. As usual, the president claimed the protesters were “sheep” manipulated by foreign powers and entities who did not know what they are doing, claiming many of them were high on drugs and drunk. The 65-year-old authoritarian went on to assert that “We will not allow them to tear the country apart.” This sentiment should be juxtaposed with a protester who told a member of law enforcement in the midst of protest: “You are humans! You are also Belarusian!”

    It is difficult to determine exactly who wants to tear the country apart when the opposition movement states its intended purpose is to produce a viable future for Belarus. Lukashenko shows no intention of resigning or even lending an ear to complaints espoused by the people. If the protest movement is to continue, one should expect more arrests and detentions. 

    Belarus finds itself in a political crisis that must be managed with the utmost care. Neither side seems willing to budge on its demands, and so it comes down to who has the most endurance in terms of power and energy. Lukashenko has the power of government and its vast repressive apparatus at his disposal. The protest movement is energized and full of voices that have united in the sole goal of a change of leadership. Alexander Lukashenko cannot afford to make concessions as it would mean his hold on the presidential office is shaky. As it currently stands, even if this round of opposition is quashed, it will undoubtedly emerge again, perhaps at a time when the authorities may be ill-prepared.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More

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    Was the Bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki the Mother of All War Crimes?

    This year marks the 75th anniversary of the nuclear bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. This is reason enough to mull over its meaning and its implications. In a recent article for Fair Observer, Peter Isackson has made a strong case that the annihilation of the two Japanese cities by American bombers represents the “mother of all war crimes.” Given the long history of atrocities committed during times of war, I find this a rather bold statement that should not go unchallenged.

    The Mother of All War Crimes

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    The case for the defense rests on two claims. First, the demonstration of American nuclear capabilities heralded in a period of stability, which quite likely saved Western Europe’s nations from being overrun and conquered by the Soviet Union and subjected to its rule. Second, Hiroshima and Nagasaki are far from exceptional as war crimes go, if indeed the bombing of the two cities was a war crime at all.

    Balance of Terror

    In my younger years, in a very different world, I served for a couple of years in the German air force. I never flew a plane. I spent most of my time on duty in a tower close to the border to what at the time was the Czechoslovakian Socialist Republic (CSSR), a member of the Warsaw Pact and a satellite of the Soviet Union. We did electronic surveyance of the CSSR airspace, following Czech and Slovakian fighter planes as they performed their exercises as best as they could (more often than not they couldn’t, lacking basic motivation). It was a tedious job, boring as hell, particularly when the weather was bad and the pilots were grounded.

    Excitement, however, surged once a month, when we waited for the arrival of Russian long-range bombers. They took off from Minsk in what at the time was the capital of the Belarusian Soviet Socialist Republic. Their mission: attack the towers along the West German border with the CSSR and the German Democratic Republic. We saw them coming, small dots on our radar screens. When they were in front of our tower, there was a small red blip, a fleeting flicker, and we knew if this had been der Ernstfall — an actual real-life attack — we would all be dead, gone up in smoke in a small nuclear mushroom.

    At the time, we did not think much of what had just happened. It was part of a game, along the lines of MAD magazine’s “Spy vs Spy” — inane, a waste of time, and somehow not very real. It was not until the fall of the Berlin Wall, the collapse of the regime in Prague and the unraveling of the Soviet empire that we learned that the game had been much more serious and potentially deadly than what we suspected. There were plans on the other side of the border to overrun West Germany, conquer Western Europe and subject it to Soviet rule. Among the scenarios was a nuclear attack on Bonn, West Germany’s sleepy capital, designed to decapitate West Germany’s political elite.

    What prevented the Soviets and their toadies from carrying out their plans was not human compassion but a realist assessment of the distribution of military forces and the resolve of the Western allies to use them. At the time, this was called MAD — mutually assured destruction. It was grounded in the notion that any attack on the part of the Soviets would immediately trigger a full response of Western nuclear forces, resulting in the complete annihilation of the Soviet Union. The leadership in Moscow was fully aware of this logic. They did not like this “balance of terror,” but they ultimately submitted to its logic. Others, by the way, did not.

    Andrey Gromyko, the Soviet Union’s long-term foreign minister, claims in his memoirs that at one time, Chinese leader Mao Zedong tried to get the Soviet Union to launch a nuclear attack on the United States, arguing that “his country could survive a nuclear war, even if it lost 300 million people, and finish off the capitalists with conventional weapons,” thus guaranteeing the triumph of communism. Unsurprisingly, the Soviets were not convinced and increasingly distanced themselves from Beijing.

    The logic of mutually assured destruction fundamentally altered the behavior of great powers, at least with respect to each other. It is to be hoped that the logic of the “balance of terror” is going to be enough to keep the US and China level-headed in the future, despite rapidly growing tensions between the two.

    The Breakdown of Civilization

    Unfortunately enough, war crimes are the norm rather than the exception when it comes to armed conflict. The claim that Hiroshima and Nagasaki are ontologically different rests on a technological assumption. For some reason, nuclear weapons are fundamentally different from conventional ones. I am not sure what constitutes the basis of this assumption. Take the firebombings of the German cities of Dresden and Hamburg during the Second World War, which cost the lives of tens of thousands of ordinary people — women, children, the elderly. Take the massacre of Babi Yar, in Ukraine, where in two days nearly 34,000 Jews were killed by German Einstazgruppen. Or, going back further in history, take the death toll during the Thirty Years War, which cost the lives of half of the population of what is today Germany.

    Massacres of the most atrocious form are hardly an invention of the 20th century, as Goya’s renditions of the barbarities visited on his fellow countrymen during the war against the French between 1808 and 1814, depicted in most horrifying detail. This was a war against an enemy that invaded the country in the name of the Enlightenment and revolutionary fervor. Or, as the Germans would say, Und willst du nicht mein Bruder sein, so schlag ich dir den Schädel ein — If you don’t want to be my brother, I will smash your skull.

    For the victims of war crimes — more often than not civilians — it probably does not really matter how they were killed and why they were killed. It is quite understandable — human all too human, as Nietzsche would say — that horrendous deeds provoke retribution. The firebombing of German cities, the rape of German women caught be advancing Soviet armies — both are understandable given the atrocities committed by Germans during the war, in the name of Hitler and the Third Reich. Most Germans, or so most recent research suggests, were more than comfortable supporting a regime that guaranteed them a modicum of prosperity. Few asked where it came from.

    For that, Germans were punished in the most horrendous fashion. Berlin, Hamburg, Dresden and Cologne and many other towns and cities went up in flames, leaving behind a landscape hardly different from Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The bombing of Hamburg was named Operation Gomorrah, after the Biblical city destroyed by “sulfur and fire” for its sins, and, according to historian Keith Lowe, was on completely different level than the German raids on Coventry and London, “comparable with what happened in Nagasaki.” It was a just retribution for the crimes committed in their name, a retribution for the tens of millions of victims who paid with their lives for Hitler’s ambitions to conquer the world.

    Embed from Getty Images

    I would suggest that the annihilation of Hiroshima and Nagasaki was the retribution for the crimes committed by Japanese forces, in the name of racial superiority hardly different from Nazi ideology, against the peoples subjugated during the war. I have grave doubts that the victims of the Nanjing massacre or of the hundreds of young Asian “comfort women” pressed into sexual slavery by Japanese forces would consider the destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki a war crime, but rather than an act of just retribution for Japanese atrocities committed during the war.

    Whether or not the United States was justified in meting out redistribution is a different question. After all, given America’s self-declared status as a leading Christian nation, it should perhaps have heeded the words of the Bible exhorting believers not to take revenge, “but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: ‘It is mine to avenge; I will repay,’ says the Lord” (Romans 12:19). But then, Americans have a tendency to pay lip service to the scripture while doing the opposite in real life.

    The bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki was one of these turning points in history that define a whole epoch. It demonstrated, once and for all, humanity’s ability to destroy itself. Had Hitler been in a position to get hold of “the bomb,” he surely would have used it to obliterate London, Moscow, perhaps even New York. The same goes for Stalin, only this time it would have been Berlin that would have gone up in a mushroom. If the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki was a war crime, it was nothing more than another episode in a long history of atrocities committed in the course of wars, not more, not less — an episode which reaffirms once again the sad reality that the veneer of civilization is merely skin deep.

    The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy. More