When is War Justified?

 

There was, to begin with, the Ukraine first described to me by my Russian mother, who moved to Kharkov from Siberia when she was a teen, when I was only 4. The stories that my mom used to tell me about growing up there, when she had to pass through a never-ending field of cream-colored wheat on her way to the village, and the cabbage soup shchi that she often had for dinner, and the Kharkov music school’s massive staircase with music coming from every single room blended in her ears and made her dizzy. 

And then there’s another connection I have to Ukraine–this time in Odessa, where my friend, Nika, lives. With beaches overlooking the Black Sea, 19th-century Baroque-style architecture, and magnificent sunsets, the people there are always very happy. Nika describes Odessa as her favorite place on Earth. She feels as if she belongs to it. 

 

Now the unrelenting mood of war overshadows my associations with Ukraine. I read about young children being separated from their loving families, Neo-Nazis using this war to act out their violent fantasies, the hundreds of thousands of people on both sides who have been wounded or killed, Ukrainian soldiers trapped in freezing trenches, and helpless civilians and animals burning in the streets. 

 

Yet, Ukraine refuses to capitulate. Putin expected the war to be over in weeks, but it’s gone on for almost 2 years. Before Putin’s invasion, Ukraine was not on a path to join NATO, and in fact, only applied to protect itself after Putin’s invasion. Putin has achieved the opposite of strengthening Russia’s national security; NATO admitted 2 countries on Russia’s border–including, Sweden and Finland–and these countries hadn’t even considered applying before his invasion. He has caused Ukraine to dramatically increase its weaponry, its ties with Western military allies, and its own military. Not only are Russian forces facing their enemy on Ukrainian territory, but Ukraine has increasingly struck military inside Russia’s borders. 

 

What are the justifications of this war? Will war fill our minds when we imagine Ukraine? Will war hover over Odessa like impending storm clouds? The war promises to be long lasting, continuing to be very bloody and painful and costly for both countries and the rest of the world–costly in terms of economics and lives. It’s also hurting the environment–the Russians blew up a dam, for example, and flooded a lot of fertile land. The largest nuclear power plant in Ukraine has been under constant threat and there are radioactive materials in it. The Russians are the ones operating this plant, so the danger persists. War may very well become the fabric of Ukrainian society, fixed in its emotions and memories as well as its visions for the future. 

 

I wonder if, in the aftermath of this war, the memories that my mom and Nika have of living in Ukraine will seem like far-away dreams. If my mom were to revisit her old music school, she would hear harsh, jangled notes echoing through the empty halls. Nika’s evening walks on her beautiful beach lit by the setting sun would be tainted by the smell of burning bodies. And, for me, I will never be able to experience or even recognize that mystical land that exists in my memories from their stories.