To Viktor Kravchuk – and the Nation that Putin Could Never Break

 

                                                            

By Don Curren

The morning of Tuesday, April 29 was a euphoric one in my corner of Canada.

Our 44^th general election, held the day before, resulted in the defeat of a divisive populist and election of a capable and principled centrist as prime minister.

The results weren’t perfect; the populist leader’s party, the Conservatives, captured 41.3% of the popular vote.

The victorious Liberals were denied a majority government and will have to rely on the support of opposition parties to advance their agenda.

But the Conservatives’ defeat signaled the rejection of a leader who risked dragging Canada into a downward spiral like that south of the border.

I was tired that morning from staying up to watch the results and drinking some wine to celebrate on election night.

But I was buoyed by a euphoric feeling that my country had chosen wisely. Had reaffirmed the bedrock Canada values of freedom, equality, tolerance and compassion.

Amid my euphoria, I read your piece “The Nation that Trump Could Never Break.” I was deeply touched.

You wrote that hearing the results of our election in distant Ukraine inspired relief, and then gratitude.

“(This) morning, from a war zone half a world away, I was reading about your election. And for the first time in days, I exhaled,” you wrote.

You addressed me and my compatriots directly, describing your response to our election with eloquent simplicity:

 

“You didn’t just choose kindness or experience.

You chose to reject stupidity.

You chose not to flirt with fascism.

And from where I write, in a place still paying the price for what happens when others flirt with fascism abroad, I want to say this clearly:

You, my Canadian friends, you chose goodness in a collapsing world. And you saved more than just your country.

You saved a piece of hope for all of us.”

 

Reading your words filled me with pride. The knowledge our election had instilled hope in someone facing a much graver threat was deeply gratifying.

I read your piece several times and re-posted it on social media.

I continued to think about it in the following weeks, reflecting on its important implicit message: nations around the world that choose to resist tyranny can inspire each other.

 But even as I thought that I began to feel a nagging sense of a debt left unpaid.

Because however encouraging our election may have been for you, your country has inspired me and many others much more deeply.

I’m writing this piece to try to convey, in a small way, how inspiring your struggle to save your country and your freedom from murderous aggression has been.

You started your piece this way:

 

“I’VE NEVER WALKED YOUR STREETS. Never seen your beautiful lakes.

I don’t really know your provinces, your debates, or your daily worries.”

 

The same is true for me.

I’ve never been to Ukraine. I’ve never visited its storied cities or traversed its vast open vistas, its fields full of grain and sunflowers.

But beginning in February of 2022, I’ve seen a torrent of video that showed both the beauty of your country and the terror being visited upon it.

Images that conveyed the criminal aggression that was befalling you. And the humanity amidst suffering as civilians evacuated, often carrying a cherished cat or leading a terrified, shell-shocked dog along with a meagre array of belongings.

The empathy those images evoked was joined by respect and admiration as stories surfaced about the bravery of your compatriots who stayed to defend their country.

Stories like that of the border guards who told a Russia warship to “go f**k itself,” and the woman who threw a jar of pickled tomatoes at a Russian drone, or a clip of soldiers holding an impromptu concert in the streets of Kyiv during the earliest days of the war.

The admiration intensified when it became clear most of Ukraine shared that spirit.

And that your president was a leader who understood that sometimes the defense of freedom requires a willingness to fight to the death, if needs be.

Sometimes, our world seems divided into two camps: those inclined to brutality on one side and those who acquiesce on the other.

You and your compatriots showed that it didn’t have to be that way.

I no longer had to look to history for examples of courage in the defense of freedom in times of adversity.

It wasn’t only admiration at your bravery in fighting what looked like an impossible fight.

That was also joined by awe at the way you conducted that fight: using creativity, flexibility, and intelligence to outwit a foe with vastly greater numbers.

All these feelings I regard as a gift you and your people have given to those of us committed to defending freedom in the rest of the world.

You ended your piece as simply and eloquently as you started it:

 

“You reminded us that we are not alone.

We’re still here. Under sirens. Under silence.

Because of you, this morning felt a little less like the end of the world.

And a little more like something worth staying alive for.”

 

Because of you, Victor, and your compatriots, we in the rest of the world know it’s possible to stand up to an evil and overwhelming force - and fight against it valiantly despite desperate odds.

If you can sacrifice so much, remain so brave after more than three years of relentless brutality, we can play our part in standing up to the mounting tide of tyranny engulfing the world.

Thank You.