Fuck the war

It’s now been over 100 days since the war in Ukraine began, and I think a certain war fatigue is setting in. People who aren’t directly involved seem more concerned with local inflation and daily struggles now. That’s understandable—most of us (myself included) can only handle so many global crises at once: a war with threats of genocide and nuclear escalation, a pandemic that still lingers, a worsening climate crisis. There’s only so much the psyche can absorb before it starts to shut down.

Recently, I read “Zinkjungen” by Swetlana Alexijewitsch, a book about the Soviet-Afghan War—a conflict that left over 15,000 Soviet soldiers dead or missing.¹ The war began in December 1979 and, like the current war in Ukraine, was expected to last only a few days. Instead, it dragged on for nearly a decade, ending in 1989. In the book, Alexijewitsch interviews soldiers and officers, nurses and doctors, parents and spouses of those who died or returned home traumatized. From these testimonies, she weaves together a collection of stories about the horrors of war.

What struck me most was how eerily familiar many of these patterns felt. The so-called “peace mission”²; the initial enthusiasm and willingness to sacrifice, which later turned to disillusionment and extremity³; soldiers poorly equipped and catastrophically fed⁴; young men who didn’t know where they were being sent until they arrived; the “zinc boys” brought home in sealed coffins so no one could see the true cost of war (no information was given about the killed and wounded, and disabled soldiers received no assistance)⁵; the official propaganda painting the image of the heroic “internationalist fighter” helping the Afghan people⁶. There were many moments in the book where you could simply swap “Afghanistan” for “Ukraine,” and it would read like a present-day interview.

The so called “peace mission”²; the people which were first full of enthusiasm and willingness to make sacrifices in a war and then changed to the extreme³; soldiers which were poorly equipped and catastrophically fed⁴; soldiers which frequently didn’t know where they were being sent until they arrived; the “zinc boys” which were brought back to their families from Afghanistan in tightly sealed zinc coffins so that no one should see what a cruel war waged on (No information was given about the killed and wounded. Disabled soldiers did not receive any assistance)⁵; the official propaganda with the image of the heroic “internationalist fighter” helping the Afghan people⁶… There were many points in that book were you simply could change the word Afghanistan with Ukraine and it it reads like a present day interview.

One point in particular made me pause. When the social climate changed, the “heroes” were suddenly no longer heroes. The first allegories - like the legendary defenders of the homeland from the Great Patriotic War - were gone. After all, these soldiers hadn’t protected their country from an advancing enemy, but had invaded a neighbor for geostrategic reasons. Veterans lost their reputation, and all the horrors they endured seemed to become pointless⁷.

I can’t help but wonder if we’ll see the same patterns and outcomes once the war in Ukraine is over. (And the war has to stop. Period.)