Human rights groups argue that this systematic resettlement is part of a broader effort to make Ukraine a part of Russia without territorial conquest. The Russification of Ukrainian children physically takes children out of their homes while mentally shaping their identity from Ukrainian to Russian. 

The kidnapping is a microcosm of the ongoing war between Russia and Ukraine. While territory and sovereignty are at stake, so are identity and history. 

Glimpse from the Globe sat down with Douglas Becker, a professor of international relations at the University of Southern California and a historical memory scholar, to discuss the importance and complexity of historical memory in this war. 

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Q: What is Historical Memory, and how is it different from history?

A: History is telling a narrative of the past; memory is the filtering of that narrative for contemporary purposes. It’s the way in which people reading history will remember that history, whether they lived through it — a distinct personal memory — or it is filtered and negotiated by the historians or very much by political and social actors.  

Q: Would you say that, in this case, Russia and Ukraine have shared histories but differing historical memories? 

A: Well, they definitely have histories that intertwine, but you used the word share, and that’s complex. The notion of a shared history is decidedly Russian. The idea is that Russia and Ukraine are intertwined so much so that many Russians consider Ukraine to be “‘Little Russia.’” Ukrainians push back pretty directly on that notion of a shared history. They would rather agree on the idea of an intertwined history. Increasingly that narrative is taking on a colonial form. So Ukrainian history and identity are forms of resistance to the Russian narrative.

Q: So, are these conflictual views an example of a difference in historical memory?

A:  That’s part of it, but memory is a little more complex than that. Think of the Hollywood trope where the same event is viewed from multiple perspectives and perceptions of what’s happened. There are all of these elements of history, but memory might isolate one of these factors or arguments. 

Q: American news coverage tends to focus on tangible explanations for this war. Since memory is so intangible, how much of this war would you say is based on a difference in historical memory and identity? 

A: I actually think that there has been a lot of conversation about identity because there’s been terribly little emphasis from an IR perspective, from a traditional realist perspective, on resources. The question then is, how much of identity is tied to history and memory? Memory scholars like myself understand identity as not static but rather flexible, organic and developing. President Biden and the United States tend to focus on protecting Ukraine as a democracy from an authoritarian state. They’re not citing history and historical memory as much — Ukrainians will. A better way of putting this is Ukrainians telling Putin, “you’re trying to implant your memory in my head.” 

Q: Would it be fair to say then that the war is both a territorial attack and an attack on Ukraine’s memory and identity?

A: Yes, and you can’t unlink the two. What’s driving Russia at this point is a desire to annex Ukraine or ensure that the Ukrainian government is always compliant with the Russians to create, in essence, a puppet state. What becomes the means by which to ensure you win the war would have to be some memory discourse where Ukrainians will accept the Russian role because of the notion that we are all the same nation. 

Q: Earlier, you mentioned that memory discourse could be used for political gain. How does that affect how leaders approach policy? 

A: It must. One issue I constantly wrestle with is the leaders choosing these memories based on what they want to accomplish — memory is a tool to get a policy outcome that they want — and how much of it has to do with the leaders’ own memories and beliefs. How much are issues driven by memory, and how much is instrumental? What Putin is doing in Ukraine clearly has a degree of instrumentality. 

Q: So because this war is largely based on memory and identity, it becomes all that much harder to resolve? 

A: Absolutely. How do you compromise your identity? How do you compromise your memory? When a conflict is over memory as opposed to over territory or resources, it is so much harder to resolve. As conflicts become increasingly about identity, all negotiation techniques fail. Memory battles tend to be existential battles. How do you negotiate wars where if you lose, you lose your identity? It makes these wars more difficult to resolve, and I become all the more pessimistic about the possibility of a resolution.  

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As the Ukraine and Russia war drags on, the stakes expand beyond territory and become more and more existential. Historical memory discourse provides an explanation and analysis of how or if the conflict will be resolved. As time goes on, it becomes less and less likely either side will be willing to lose their identity and memory to negotiation. 

The post <strong>You’re Trying to Implant Your Memory in My Head: An Interview with Douglas Becker on Historical Memory in the Russia and Ukraine War</strong> appeared first on Glimpse from the Globe.

As the only country producing nuclear energy in the Caucasus region, Armenia has relied heavily on nuclear power since 1976. The Metsamor nuclear power plant, located about 35 kilometers from the capital city of Yerevan, generates roughly 40% of the country’s electricity. From its inception as a Soviet-era plant to its current-day operation, the history of the Metsamor power plant is riddled with Russian presence — a presence that tiptoes the fine line of colonization in every chapter it is found.

Today, Russia seems to have taken the long-uncertain future of Armenia’s power plant into its own hands. Currently commissioned until 2026, the life of the Metsamor plant will be extended for another ten years through Rosatom, Russia’s state-owned nuclear energy corporation. 

Moreover, in 2021, Russia expressed interest in deepening its energy investments in Armenia’s nuclear power sector and undertaking larger projects, such as the building of a new power unit at Metsamor. Months later, Russia’s interests would materialize into a signed agreement between Rosatom and Armenia’s nuclear power plant.

Notably, although nuclear power is a large component of Armenia’s energy profile, natural gas remains Armenia’s primary energy import, comprising over 80% of total imports. Russia imports roughly 85% of this natural gas to Armenia while Iran imports the rest, the latter partly in exchange for Armenian electricity exports. 

With Russia deeply entangled in every nook and cranny of Armenia’s energy sector, an emerging pattern of Russian energy colonization in Armenia — a remnant of a lingering post-Soviet legacy three decades after dissolution — seems to rear its ugly head. The Metsamor nuclear power plant is merely one case study highlighting the root causes of Armenia’s crippling energy dependence on Moscow. 

Such a relationship, of course, bears geopolitical implications, as well.

Under the corrupt and criminal leadership of Armenian administrations whose interests aligned more closely with Russia’s than their country’s, Armenia gradually sold its most critical energy infrastructures to Russia. In exchange for securing cheap Russian gas in the short term, the leadership in Yerevan forsook the west’s push for energy diversification. 

Fortunately for Yerevan, after the 2018 Velvet Revolution, Armenia is no longer governed by the corrupt oligarchs who sold their country’s energy sector — and therefore a crucial piece of its independence — to Russia; however, the legacy of their corrupt dealings with Gazprom and Moscow at large will remain for several decades to come.

Furthermore, Russia’s investment in Armenia’s nuclear sector comes amid a broader pattern of energy colonization in the region. Similar offers-turned-deals to invest in Kazakh, Kyrgyz and Belarussian nuclear power have been undertaken by Moscow in recent months and years. 

Meanwhile, the same recklessness Russian President Vladimir Putin employs in his foreign policy seems to be ever-present in Moscow’s nuclear endeavors, which subject the recipient state — or colony, in the Kremlin’s eyes — to significant safety concerns and associated risks.

In securing Yerevan’s long-term dependence for nuclear energy, Russia significantly also gains another degree of leverage over a former Soviet republic whose geopolitical predicament is a national security risk in its own right. Sandwiched between hostile neighbors Turkey and Azerbaijan, not even the Metsamor power plant has been immune to the dangers this entails.

For its own part, Turkey has repeatedly wielded rhetoric about the dangers of Armenia’s power plant, located roughly 15 kilometers from its border, for political gain. Its concerns, cited far too frequently to be genuine, are also largely hypocritical when considering Ankara’s own partnership with Russia for development of its nuclear sector. Moreover, the Turkish- and Azerbaijani-imposed economic blockade of Armenia, which has financially devastated the country, is a main driver for the necessity of Armenia’s nuclear production.

On the other hand, Baku’s aggressive foreign policy, incessant warmongering and expressed ethnic cleansing agenda against the Armenians located both within its internationally recognized borders and outside pose a unique threat in the context of Armenia’s nuclear power plant.

In July 2021, as tensions between Armenia and Azerbaijan were boiling over leading up to Baku’s preemptive war against Nagorno-Karabakh, Azerbaijan threatened to employ a missile attack against the Metsamor power plant. Self-evidently, the implications of such an attack would be catastrophic, despicable and constitute a direct terrorist threat to Armenia and its neighboring countries.

Ultimately, Armenia’s Metsamor power plant is not only a symbol of Russia’s energy colonization but a testament to the infinitely complex geopolitical disposition Armenia finds itself in. Like every sector of its host country, competing regional interests and Russian hegemony have overtaken Armenia’s nuclear power plant, as well. 

Whether or not the Metsamor plant will weather the storm relies entirely on Yerevan’s long-term planning and the conduct of regional actors. 

The current trajectory, however, seems to be Moscow-bound.

The post The Russian Nuclear Threat, Recontextualized: Energy Colonization and Armenia’s Nuclear Power Plant appeared first on Glimpse from the Globe.

This threat of nuclear escalation is neither new nor surprising. Putin has made similar statements in the past, namely stating that “the world is nothing without Russia,” and therefore, using nuclear resources to defend Russia is necessary. However, with the massive costs of this conflict and increasing Russia-West tensions, such threats are beginning to bear more impact than ever.

Moreover, Russia recently took over a Zaporizhzhia nuclear power plant following strenuous attacks. Zaporizhzhia, currently Europe’s largest power plant, now sits under Russian control. 

As Russian attacks move further into Ukrainian territory, the shelling and the sensitivity of the nuclear force in the plant may pose a threat. Many in the West and around the world are watching intently as Russia inches closer and closer to risking the lives of millions with its continuous pressure on the plant. 

With many of Putin’s threats materializing into consistent attacks on this region, nuclear threats like these become more worrisome. With such a large nuclear arsenal at its disposal and Russia’s repeatedly-expressed interest in using them to win the war it started at any cost, many Western powers are looking intently at the course of action by Putin’s government.

U.S. President Joe Biden has not stayed unresponsive to Putin’s attempts at nuclear provocation. Biden is warning Russia that there might be a “wider danger” in the threats by the Russians, and something that the West should not turn a blind eye to. In an interview with CNN, Biden stated, “It would be irresponsible for me to talk about what we would or wouldn’t do” if Russia follows through with any nuclear threat.

If Russia was to actually exert its force on the Zaporizhzhia nuclear power plant and continue to move forward with a “strike first” mentality, it would risk challenging the United States and its allies to a nuclear match-off. Approximately 90 percent of all nuclear warheads are owned by Russia and the United States, and their excessive — yet accessible — supply has kept them at a stalemate for the past 80 years. 

If Putin chose to make good on his threats, he would have to recognize that the United States is well-equipped to retaliate at any second. However threatening Putin’s words might be, they seem insufficient to realistically push him to take nuclear action. 

To better understand Putin’s ideas and the threat’s validity, one must also look at his long-term history of empty promises and unfulfilled threats of nuclear usage. 

Even with the strain of the ongoing conflict, Putin is considered by many to be acting erratically and irrationally. However, the threat of retaliation when it comes to nuclear force is something even Putin cannot pretend to show defiance to. 

But this issue is not simply a matter of rationality for Putin or Russia. While the use of nuclear weaponry to further this particular war is not likely, the wielding of such a threat would have dire consequences if it materialized, and should not be taken lightly. 

It would be in the best interests of both Russia and Putin to back away from nuclear use. But, that simply may not be enough to hold him back. 

With the world’s gaze on him and increased doubt on whether Russia can actually win this fight and maintain its position of power, Putin might be willing to take any measures necessary to win back control.

The post How Real is Russia’s Nuclear Threat? appeared first on Glimpse from the Globe.

Mher Manucharyan was five years old when Azerbaijan cut the gas supply to Nagorno Karabakh for the second time in 2022. He did not survive.

Today, over 120,000 civilians in Karabakh — including over 30,000 children —- are in danger of facing a similar fate as Azerbaijan’s blockade of the only road connecting Armenia to Karabakh, a lifeline for the local population and its only connection to the outside world, approaches its third week. 

On Dec. 13, Azerbaijan cut the gas supply to Nagorno Karabakh (also known by its indigenous Armenian name, Artsakh) for a third time this year. Although the blockade remains, gas supply was restored on Dec. 16 as a result of international pressure, with concerns mounting over the humanitarian implications of a complete lack of gas for households and essential institutions in the winter cold. As schools were closed, daily life in Karabakh was again uprooted, and civilians were left at the mercy of Azerbaijani terror and Russian incompetency, Mher Manucharyan’s story remained fresh in the minds of the few who know it.

Glimpse from the Globe sat down with his cousin, Maria Manucharyan, to record Mher’s story and shed light on the human cost of continued international inaction.

Mher Manucharyan’s Life and Death

“I always saw Mher as the hope of our future, of Artsakh — and before he died, he told me that the hope of Artsakh will never կտրվել [die]. And then he died, hours after he said that.” 

Mher Manucharyan was five years old and living in Stepanakert, Nagorno Karabakh, when Azerbaijan cut the gas supply for the civilian population in March 2022. 

His cousin Maria Manucharyan described him as a bright child who was “mature” for his age, having grown up surrounded by the threat of Azerbaijani aggression. She said that after every sentence, Mher would add, “for Armenia.”

“He wanted to become a pilot for Armenia,” Maria told Glimpse from the Globe. “He had to eat, because if he died, then one member of the Armenian population would go down — for Armenia. He had to study well so he could become someone, for Armenia. We had another cousin who was deciding between studying languages and engineering — and he asked, which way do you think you could help Armenia more?” 

“He was five years old, but he was so mature,” she added. “I think life matured him.”

Remembering her cousin fondly, Maria spoke of his big hopes and dreams for the future. 

“Planes, planes… He loved planes,” she recalled. “He had such a passion for planes that he learned to read when he was four, before school — Armenian, Russian and the Latin script. He learned all of it by himself, with no help, just so that he could read books about planes. You could talk about flowers, and he would somehow manage to describe a plane. His dream was to be a pilot.” 

Maria also described him as a gleeful child whose presence made those around him smile. “He would somehow manage to give you joy and energy,” she said. “He never tired, he was always full of energy and he always yelled.”

When Azerbaijan cut the gas supply and refused to allow Russian peacekeepers to make repairs to the pipeline, temperatures hovered above freezing as it snowed outside in Stepanakert and heating became essential. Mher’s parents feared for their young son’s health due to his asthma, which made him more vulnerable to the cold. Mher was not allowed to leave his family’s poorly-insulated house in Stepanakert or go to school, out of fear that he could fall ill amid the gas cut.

“And it wasn’t their house, it was someone else’s, because their house is in Shushi,” Maria added. “You know what happened to Shushi.”

Despite his family’s efforts, Mher fell ill on March 21, initially showing symptoms of a simple cold. Within days, he would be admitted to Artsakh State Hospital in Stepanakert and diagnosed with “pneumonia developed as a secondary bacterial infection because of the cold or the flu.”

“The entire hospital was mobilized around him, but nothing could save him,” said Maria. Despite his doctors’ and nurses’ best efforts, some machines did not work due to the lack of gas and the hospital itself was cold. All his doctors could do was keep Mher warm with their limited resources and make him comfortable in the final moments of his life. 

“All I can say is that he didn’t just die, he was murdered by Azerbaijan and they must and will pay for it one day,” his cousin said. “How is it acceptable to just freeze children to death in 2022? How?” 

Mher remained his parents’ “last hope” and “the last of everything they had” after they lost his sister two years ago to an Azerbaijani strike during the 2020 Karabakh War. Born in the city of Shushi, a historical Armenian stronghold that was lost to Azerbaijan in 2020, Mher was his parents’ “last of their memory of Shushi.”

“Everybody normalized the fact that it’s just okay, you can kill these people,” his cousin decried. “Whether it’s him or his sister — just because other states don’t recognize Artsakh as one, it’s okay to kill people who live there.”

She spoke of the unimaginable toll Mher’s passing took on his family. “When I talked to them, it’s like they were not alive anymore. Their eyes were empty,” she said. “I don’t know how to describe it.”

“He was their last shred of hope for a future in Artsakh, but he died along with their hope.”

Azerbaijan Blockades Karabakh

“For Azerbaijan, peace means Armenians not existing anymore. What they want is not peace, it’s literal genocide.”

On Dec. 12, a group of Azerbaijanis posing as eco-activists blocked the Lachin corridor, the only overland access point from mainland Armenia to Karabakh after the 2020 Karabakh War (reports soon emerged exposing their government affiliation). 

When Karabakh’s gas supply was cut again by Azerbaijan on the second day of the blockade, the need for Mher’s story to resurface became apparent, as a warning for international watchers of the dangers of Azerbaijan’s terror campaign against the peaceful civilian population of Karabakh.

A humanitarian catastrophe is now quickly unfolding as food and medical supplies run out, surgeries are canceled, patients in critical condition — including children and infants — are unable to be transferred to medical centers in Armenia and resources essential to the survival of the civilian population become scarce. Moreover, the daily supply of 400 tons of humanitarian aid to Karabakh from Armenia has been obstructed, and over 1,100 civilians have been separated from their families, unable to return home.

Although Armenia faced a devastating defeat in 2020 following Azerbaijan’s premeditated war against Nagorno Karabakh, a self-declared republic with an ethnically Armenian population that is internationally recognized as part of Azerbaijan, one of the main points of the ceasefire agreement ending the war was that the critical Lachin corridor was maintained, under the protection of Russian peacekeepers.

Russian peacekeepers have thus far failed to uphold their mandate to maintain unobstructed access to the Lachin corridor and protect the local civilian population from Azerbaijan’s attempted ethnic cleansing of Karabakh. 

On Dec. 24, a group of Karabakh activists marched to the Russian peacekeepers’ checkpoint near Shushi to demand they put an end to Azerbaijan’s blockade, and a massive rally was organized in Stepanakert the following day calling international attention to the humanitarian catastrophe after the Russians failed to uphold their promise to open the road.

Now, human rights activists and monitors in the region warn of grave humanitarian consequences should the Russian peacekeepers and international community fail to ensure the Azerbaijani-imposed blockade is lifted and the civilian population regains access to its critical lifeline to the outside world. The political implications of Azerbaijan employing human rights violations as a terror tactic against the civilian population, meanwhile, is yet another key facet of this entirely manmade crisis.

Despite local activism, efforts by the Karabakh and Armenian governments and a degree of international outcry, including pressure by UN Security Council members, the blockade has now lasted for almost three weeks. Should Azerbaijan refuse to open the Lachin corridor for a longer period, there is the full potential for a humanitarian crisis of massive proportions.

“In order for Armenians in Artsakh to be considered humans and their deaths to not be normalized, Artsakh needs to be recognized,” Maria Manucharyan said in closing. “It is not just a matter of land, it’s a matter of survival for an entire nation.”

The post The Last Time Azerbaijan Cut Karabakh’s Gas Supply, A 5-Year-Old Child Died. Today, the Deadly Campaign Continues. appeared first on Glimpse from the Globe.

This idea of a raceless society mainly comes from the fact that Russia never participated in slavery. In 1842, well before the U.S. Civil War, Emperor Nicholas I banned the human trade of Africans and stated that slaves that arrived in Russia would be declared free. Those who broke this law would be, “put on trial and punished”.

Russia Beyond writer Georgy Manaev explains that the time period affected how Black individuals were perceived: “[Africans] were seen as an object of wonder, a curiosity and something exotic from overseas.” They were not necessarily seen as an opportunity for free labor. 

This historical perception raises the question:  what does it mean to be Black in Russia now? This article will analyze how, despite the lack of slavery, innate rights are not equally afforded to Black Russians as they are to white Russians.

During the United States’ fight against communism, the United States’ main competitor was the USSR. The USSR was Communist but continued to expand and colonize bordering republics. As a result, their economy grew despite not being capitalist. This development was particularly troubling for the United States.

The USSR was able to find the United States’ weakness — racism — and exploit it by encouraging black people to immigrate to the USSR while criticizing the United States. Starting in the 1930s, an abundance of African-Americans immigrated to the USSR for the chance of a better life financially, with the Great Depression looming, and personally, perceiving a place with “no racism or white supremacy” – an ironic juxtaposition to the heavily promoted American Dream said St. Julian-Varnon in an interview with Glimpse from the Globe.

In explaining the sentiment of many Black Americans, St. Julian-Varnon says “America’s not great. What could Russia offer us? It couldn’t be any worse.”

In the court of Black public opinion, Russia didn’t have to be extraordinary. It just had to be better than the United States. The USSR could use propaganda to dissuade people from accepting American ideals by enforcing the theory of “if they can’t treat their own people right, why would they treat you any better?” (St. Julian-Varnon). This sentiment was often conveyed to newly independent African states who were considering aligning ideologically with the United States.

The USSR was able to further damage the United States’s reputation by using American news clips and posters to boost their own labor market and country of equality. This further persuaded Americans to immigrate and therefore discrediting American prestige. 

It is important to note that, for the USSR, establishing positive race relations was paramount to national identity. In an op-ed for the New York Times, Jennifer Wilson writes that “racial equality was not merely incidental but a state project [for the USSR].” Then Premier of the USSR, Vladimir Lenin, saw that the greatest potential for revolution in the United States was “in the development of a Black proletarian consciousness.” In a sense, the acceptance of Black Americans was merely a side effect of the overall goal of degrading the United States.

This has been the experience of Black Americans in Russia, but what about Afro-Russians? According to St. Julian-Varnon, Afro-Russians are people of African descent that have migrated to and settled in Russia, usually multi-generational. Africans and Central Asians often traveled to the USSR for their studies. This was encouraged by the government at the time, specifically during the 1950s, expresses St. Julian Varnon. When  “Khrushchev invited African students to study in the USSR as part of the nation’s push to influence the decolonization movement on the African continent.” 

A side effect of this push was an increase in Afro-Russians, meaning those with one Russian parent and one African parent. After the African parent left, these children were “left alone to face increasing racial discrimination.”

Racism against Afro-Russians was exacerbated after the fall of the Soviet Union. The USSR was a multinational empire that, because of the collapse, was degraded to a regional power. The collapse essentially left an ideological hole that manifested in resentment and racism. St. Julian-Varnon notes, “If you lose your own power elsewhere, where do you reclaim it?” 

The USSR prided itself on being anti-racist. Still,  many, including St. Julien Varnon, have argued: how can one be anti-racist when one doesn’t measure race? Having a raceless society causes the erasure of the entire racial identity of Afro-Russians, who have experiences specific to their background. Oftentimes, an Afro-Russian is the only Black person in their entire town, including their own family. 

This upbringing causes many Afro-Russians to be indifferent to their race despite systemic racism that still ravages the system. Yelena Khanga, an Afro-Russian journalist and former television presenter, shared her opinion on race in Russia and how it is non-existent. The interviewer asked her about how Khanga’s then-white Russian boyfriend used to call her “monkey” and Khanga responded saying, “I couldn’t explain to him that it was racist because I knew he was not racist…That’s just what he called me.”

Khanga’s view of racism is unique because of her homogenous upbringing. St. Julian-Varnon writes, “For [Khanga], racism could only be a product not of malice, but of ignorance.” The racism Khanga encountered was, from Khanga’s point of view, purely based on ignorance and not the individual’s actual consciousness. 

Maxim Nikolsky, a journalist from Russia, described his experience with racism saying, “It’s the casual racism that’s a problem in Russia, and it comes from ignorance. I don’t think we have the institutionalized racism of the West.” This belief is not unpopular for many Afro-Russians. 

Although the experience of some Afro-Russians is that there is only casual racism, the data says otherwise. Russian law states that “Incitement of Hatred or Enmity, is classified as Actions aimed at the incitement of hatred or enmity…” Unfortunately, this law has been partially decriminalized and often produces lesser convictions for those who have violated it.

According to the SOVA Center, an Information and Analysis nonprofit organization based in Moscow, Russia, there is some progress: “The number of those convicted of “extremist statements” has increased slightly in the past year [2019].” With Afro-Russians making up such a small percentage of Russians, these numbers are often overlooked.  Their lived experiences of racism do not go away. 

An example would be Isabel Kastilio, a marketing manager from Yuzhno-Sakhalinsk, Russia. She shares her experience in adolescence when her family was looking for a home and many of the renting signs said, “Slavs only”. 

She recounted, “When landlords heard my name on the phone, even though I had a permit to live in Moscow, they didn’t believe I could pay the rent. I had to arrange to meet them in person, so they could see I was a normal person with a normal job and wouldn’t turn their apartment into a drug den.” Kastilio’s experience can be compared to that of the United States’s redlining that continues to affect marginalized communities today.

Kastilio’s experience is shared with many other Afro–Russians as well as first-generation African immigrants. An example of this would be Roy Ibonga, a 21-year-old Congolese man studying economics at Bryansk State University. He posted on social media a time in which he was racially profiled while in a taxi. In the video, “the driver can be heard saying ‘If I don’t like a person, I won’t give them a ride. It’s my car.’ When Ibonga asks him bluntly “Are you a racist?” the driver replies, “Yes, of course.” 

Kastilio and Ibonga’s experience is quite contradictory to Khanga and Nikolsky, but together they embody a range of perspectives on racism in Russia. 

Simply said, there is racism in Russia, but it is often overlooked by Afro-Russians because it is perceived as just another occurrence in their lived experience. This human rights issue often gets very little attention for many reasons: Black people in Russia are a small population, there is a  lack of research about the issue, and finally, international actors simply don’t care. 

The overt and systemic racism in Russia like that experienced by Isabel Kastilio and Roy Ibonga is not so different from the black American experience despite the USSR’s and Russia’s claim of being a nonracist country. This will continue to affect this minority without pressure from international state actors. Black Russians are not afforded the same rights as white Russians, as demonstrated by a brief look into the history and lived experiences of Black Russians from the USSR to today. Looking ahead to the future, there is much more research that needs to be done, starting with more accurate census reporting on Black Russians. 

The post What Does It Mean To Be Black in Russia? appeared first on Glimpse from the Globe.

Last month, violence erupted along the disputed ⅓ of the Kyrgyzstan-Tajikistan border. The recent escalation is yet another chapter in a long history of border conflict between the two countries, whose clashes are generally quickly resolved but often threaten to spiral into all-out war. 

While both countries are former Soviet republics, Kyrgyzstan is more resistant to Russian intervention, whereas Tajikistan, the poorest country in Central Asia, remains heavily dependent on Russian aid and influence. Until countries in the region are able to break completely free from the Russian grip, this conflict will continue to pose a danger to Central Asians. 

Just last year, over 50 people were killed and several hundred injured in a conflict that originated over water resources. This time around, the toll is even higher, with over 100 estimated deaths (at least 37 of whom were civilians, including 4 children). Hundreds more were injured and tens of thousands were displaced. 

Fighting reportedly began when Kyrgyz and Tajik border guards stationed along the border in the Batken region opened fire on one another. Both sides involved have accused the other of shooting first, but it is unclear who shot first. 

The violence then spread, with accounts emerging of homes being burned and pillaged on both sides of the border and roughly 137,000 residents of the Kyrgyz village of Ak-Sai being forced to evacuate. The two countries signed a ceasefire in Uzbekistan on Sept. 16, though there have been reports of continued shootings since that date. 

Beyond the heartbreaking tragedy of loss and displacement characteristic of any violent conflict, the significance of these clashes is their place as a part of the larger pattern of increasing violence in the post-Soviet space as of late, beginning with Russia’s invasion of Ukraine earlier this year and followed by Azerbaijan’s recent attacks on Armenia. 

Although each of these countries (Armenia, Azerbaijan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan and Ukraine) are independent from Russia, that independence came only begrudgingly with the fall of the USSR. Several autonomous ethnic minority regions remain within the borders of modern-day Russia to this day. 

Even for the countries that have managed to break free from Russia’s authoritarian grip, their freedom has, in most cases, been accompanied with varying degrees of governmental instability. In post-Soviet Central Asia, this instability can be largely attributed to the way in which borders were drawn under Soviet rule. 

Very little attention was paid to either the ethnic or geographical makeup of the areas where boundaries were drawn on new maps. Tajik President Emmomali Rahmon underlined this sentiment in a recent speech in which he called out Russia for not supporting and investing in smaller countries after the USSR collapsed.    

In practice, this lack of consideration for post-Soviet countries means there were ethnic Uzbeks who suddenly found themselves living in Kyrgyzstan and ethnic Tajiks who woke up to discover they now resided in Uzbekistan. People were separated from their ethnic group and were suddenly an ethnic minority subject to discrimination. To this day, there remain thousands of kilometers of non-demarcated and delineated borders, which become hotspots for misunderstandings and violence. 

Border disputes and violence between Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan are not new, but the root cause of this recent aggression may be different than previous occurrences. In the past, border clashes were sparked due to disputes over Soviet-era border demarcations in the Ferghana Valley and water resource issues. This time around, however, there may have been a political strategy involved on the part of Tajikistan. 

Tajik President Rahmon, who has been in autocratic power for almost thirty years, is reportedly stepping down from power soon, and will transfer power to his son. As once suggested by Nicholas II, the last Tsar of Russia, what Rahmon’s rationale may be in drastically increasing border aggression could be to have a “short, victorious war” to boost national morale and demonstrate to its neighboring countries that Tajikistan will still be a force to be reckoned with. 

It is also notable that this recent outbreak of violence between Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan started while the 22nd annual summit of the Shanghai Cooperation Organization (SCO) was taking place in Samarkand, Uzbekistan, during which the leaders of Kyrgyzstan, Russia and Tajikistan, among others, met in person. 

There was an opportunity for the Kyrgyz and Tajik presidents to discuss the very real and dangerous issues at the border, but they did not take serious measures to prevent further violence beyond a symbolic commitment to diplomacy. This is especially frustrating considering the recent fighting that broke out appeared to be premeditated in nature, rather than the regularly occurring squabble.

Although the conflict technically started on Sept. 17, there are reports that heavy military equipment and troops were used by Tajikistan three days prior, signaling a deliberate escalation early on in the fighting. Furthermore, Tajikistan targeted undisputed Kyrgyz territory in Batken, which is not near the border, most likely to drive civilians out of the area in what seems to be a planned attack ordered by President Rahmon. 

It is dangerous to not recognize this situation as anything but an act of Tajik aggression, because it feeds into a larger narrative of downplaying the severity of or outright ignoring the existence of conflict in Central Asia and the post-Soviet region as a whole. This indifference has devastating consequences on Kyrgyz and Tajik civilians’ lives and inter-country relations, leaving a dire issue out of mainstream international law and media. 

As a result, people’s lives will continue to be harmed, leaving space for the conflict to escalate, all while going largely unnoticed by the international community. Even though it only took place over the course of ten hours, the sheer scale of the violence and lack of effective communication between the Kyrgyz and Tajik leaders makes the prospect of long lasting peace in the region without third-party mediation improbable. 

This can only happen if the conflict is given the global and regional attention it warrants, as well as Western support, such as U.S. House Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s public show of support for Armenia during this period. 

Russia is also complicit in playing into the narrative that the border conflict between Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan is merely another instance of the perpetual skirmishes between the two. By not taking a principled stance and calling on both sides to “de-escalate” the fighting, Russia’s nonintervention is an attempt to maintain its influence over both the Central Asian countries. 

Although the USSR has long collapsed, Russia’s status as a global superpower has resulted in its perpetual push for control over the former Soviet states, and for their dependence on Russia, especially economically. 

For example, just a few weeks prior to the outbreak of violence, Kyrgyz Chairman of Cabinet of Ministers Akylbek Japarov and Russian Prime Minister Mikhail Mishustin met to discuss initiatives for economic cooperation between Russia and Kyrgyzstan. 

While Kyrgyzstan and Kazakhstan saw public protests against Russia’s recent imperialist activities in Ukraine,Tajikistan has remained neutral; although there have been no public demonstrations in favor of Russia’s actions, there have been none against them, either. As long as they remain under Russian influence, Central Asian countries will continue to struggle to resolve long-standing disputes without external mediation and support. 

These factors will therefore only become more imperative as the possibility of further violence escalates. 

The post Violence at the Kyrgyzstan-Tajikistan Border Is a Symptom of Their Status as Post-Soviet Republics appeared first on Glimpse from the Globe.

The war in Ukraine, however, is not a new development. Russia has been chipping away at Ukrainian territory since 2014 with the annexation of Crimea. Putin has been promoting the idea of the Russkii Mir (Russian World) for over 20 years with support from the Moscow Patriarchate, the office of the Russian Orthodox bishop, Patriarch Kirill. Putin’s and Kirill’s goal is to create a “Holy Russia:” a global Russian civilization that is the antithesis of the liberal west. 

The Russian World is a nationalist ideology adopted by Putin and Kirill as a way to justify their land grab of Eastern Europe, but it also has strong roots in Orthodox Christianity, allowing the ideology to be disseminated throughout the region by way of religion. Co-opting religious rhetoric for a political agenda is becoming an increasingly popular tactic and is quickly emerging as a powerful ethnonationalism-building tool as seen in India with the Bharatiya Janata Party.

Holy Russia serves as a religious guide to the Russian World, through claims of morality and tradition to strengthen national identity and allow Putin to exert control over the Russian Orthodox world. Control is the basis for the “Heart of Russia” ideology. Control specifically against western threats and secularism. 

Putin and Kirill have released statements and sermons encouraging violence in reaction to western influence since 2014 when NATO first became interested in development in Ukraine. Ukraine has created legislation to join NATO since 2017 and in 2020 it became a priority. Putin views the potential admission into NATO as a threat to the Russian World.

However, the expansion of NATO is only one of many facets behind Kirill’s encouragement of violence against western encroachment. The west’s condemnation of the homophobia and Russia’s subsequent human rights violations in Russia and the Donbass region of Ukraine has created further pushback from Putin and Kirill.

For instance, Kirill addresses the controversies in his Cheesefare Week sermon by voicing support for the people in Donbass, a critical region for both Russia and Ukraine located in eastern Ukraine and currently controlled by a Russian-backed separatist group looking to become part of Russia. Donbass is one of the strongest economies and has a dense population which makes it a highly desired region and although ethnic Russians make up less than 40 percent of the population they are the largest minority group.

Moreover, Putin has already recognized the region as independent from Ukraine. The annexation of Donbass into Russia is precisely what Putin and Kirill seek in their creation of the Russian World. If the referendum is successful, it will signal a critical turning point in the war.

Kirill has co-opted religious rhetoric to condone violence in other circumstances, as well. 

His use of the term “holy battle” in support of the bombing of Aleppo, Syria, justifies the Russian war efforts and intervention in 2015. Using religion to justify violence is a common and powerful tool that Putin has as permission to wage war against Ukraine; however, it is highly scrutinized among many religious leaders and just war theorists and evidence has shown that religion has only caused 7% of wars.

Russia, Putin claims, is entitled to war by divine right and Putin and Kirill have been using religion to justify Russian war efforts for years. This is in spite of condemnation from Pope Francis, the Archbishop of Constantinople and other religious figures calling for a cessation of the war in Ukraine, saying that the campaign is “fundamentally anti-Christian.”

The Vatican canceled a meeting with Kirill after he openly supported the war in Ukraine and Pope Francis has met with other religious leaders and stressed the importance of promoting peace. However, this has only encouraged Putin and Kirill to double down on their advocacy for violence against “Russophobia” and the alleged threat of Western secularization. 

The current war in Ukraine and other Russian military interventions exemplify Putin’s desire to spread Russia’s control. Kirill’s unwavering support and condoning of violence has allowed Putin to justify his efforts and rally Russian Orthodox Christians behind him in creating the “Russian World” as a powerful competitor to the “sinful” West. 

Multiple Orthodox dioceses and priests have publicly called for Kirill to call for an end to the invasion and have “suspended” support for Kirill and some Orthodox churches looking to break off from the Moscow Patriarchate and join the Constantinople Patriarchate. Kirill views the schism as a “slap in the face” because he views Patriarch Bartholomew of Constantinople as too influenced by the west.

It seems that Putin and Kirill are going to continue to push forward their Holy Russia agenda against western secularization despite the fracturing of the Eastern Orthodox Church. Putin has already been successful with his annexation of Crimea in 2014 and the potential annexation of the Donbass region poses a threat to the surrounding post-soviet countries that are part of NATO such as Poland and Moldova. 

The continuing conflict has presented larger energy issues throughout Europe due to Russia withholding supplies and the influx of refugees into neighboring countries as well as presenting cybersecurity issues throughout the western world. The conflict will continue to permeate the world on all fronts and fracture the Orthodox religion.

The post How Russia is Using Eastern Orthodox Christianity to Justify the War in Ukraine appeared first on Glimpse from the Globe.

The conflict between Russia and Georgia dates back to the collapse of the Soviet Union. After Georgia declared its independence, Russia began supporting separatist forces in the Georgian regions of Abkhazia and South Ossetia (also known as Samachablo or Tskhinvali).

Despite the large-scale war that erupted in these two regions, Russia continued to recognize Abkhazia and South Ossetia as a part of Georgia. As a result of the ceasefire agreement, Russia installed its peacekeeping forces in two breakaway regions. The ceasefire was monitored by the Organization of Security and Co-Operation in Europe (OSCE). 

This changed, however, in 2008, when Georgia established its plan to join NATO. In August that year, Russia invaded Georgia, leading to a five-day war between the two countries. After over 850 people were killed and 35,000 displaced from their homes, Russia recognized Abkhazia and South Ossetia. The country has stationed Russian ‘peacekeeping’ troops there ever since.

The ‘Creeping Occupation:’

The number of Russian troops in Abkhazia and South Ossetia steadily increased after the war. Before 2008, there were 500 Russian troops in South Ossetia, compared to 3,700 in 2010. In Abkhazia, the number of Russian troops before 2008 was 1,800; in 2010, there were approximately 3,700. 

The large presence of Russian troops in Georgia’s breakaway regions has also marked the beginning of the “borderization” process — a Kremlin strategy that includes the installment of border guard stations, fences, and barbed wire to separate the occupied territories from the regions controlled by Georgia. 

Tako Robakidze, a Tbilisi-based photographer who has been actively documenting the crisis in her project, “The Creeping Occupation,” told the New York Times that “overnight, you can find out your house is now in occupied territories.” 

Robakidze’s statement describes the harsh reality that villagers living in the Tskhinvali region face every day. Georgian authorities claim that approximately 34 villages have been isolated by Russian forces. Artificially-imposed physical barriers have divided not only privately-owned gardens and grazing lands but also communities. 

People living in the occupied territory are unable to visit their families in Georgian-controlled regions, and they are completely cut off from family burial sites. Additionally, local residents have no access to farmland and water sources, which detrimentally impacts the local economy. People cannot access the nearest markets, the implications of which are devastating in a region where people are primarily occupied with farming. 

Many fear that Russian forces will detain them if they travel within 200 meters of the border. According to Amnesty International, approximately 1215 individuals have been abducted and detained for “illegally crossing” the border from 2008 to 2018. The Russian forces mostly target farmers cultivating land in the region or hunting in the nearby forests. 

One of the most severe abduction cases was that of 35-year-old Archil Tatunashvili, who died while in custody. When Tatunashvili’s body was returned to his family for burial, it bore marks of torture, and the autopsy revealed that it was missing several internal organs. 

According to the Prosecutor’s Office of Georgia, Tatunashvili’s body had more than 100 injuries, indicating that he had been tortured while in custody by Russian police. Due to the absence of the EU Monitoring Mission in the Tskhinvali region, the extent of human rights violations by Russian troops against Georgian citizens is unknown. 

Georgian police officers giving groceries to a woman living in occupied territory (Khurvaleti, Georgia). Photo credit: Nanuka Jorjadze

Implications for Georgia

The ongoing Russian borderization process is the Kremlin’s tactic to undermine Georgia’s sovereignty. Currently, the border is located approximately 44 kilometers from the capital city Tbilisi, and 300 meters from the central highway, which connects the eastern part of the country to the west. The proximity of the border to the highway is a serious problem for Georgia since, in case of an invasion, Russian forces will be able to divide the country in two and quickly invade the capital. 

Another major problem is the current government’s inability to tackle this issue. With the fear of provoking another large-scale war, the Georgian Dream ruling party has not come up with a detailed plan on how to peacefully retake control of the occupied territories. Meanwhile, the opposition blames the ruling party for having links with the Kremlin due to its informal leader Bidzina Ivanishvilis’ ties with Russia and cites it as the main reason why the government is silent on the borderization process. 

Another issue is that the borderization of Georgia’s territories undermines its aspirations of joining NATO, which has been one of the government’s key goals following the Rose Revolution in 2003. With 20% of its territory occupied, Georgia cannot secure membership in the organization, which once again proves the Kremlin’s strategic plan of leaving former Soviet countries in limbo unless they fall back into Russia’s sphere of influence. 

It is important to mention that the creeping occupation has a large humanitarian cost, which will not be addressed without greater involvement from the international community. The attention given to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine gives hope to many Georgians who have and still experience similar aggression from Russia. 

The post Russia’s “Creeping Occupation” of Georgia appeared first on Glimpse from the Globe.

Kyrgyzstan’s first constitution was adopted in 1993 under Askar Akayev, the country’s inaugural president. This constitution established a government that split power between Akayev and a unicameral legislature; Akayev quickly moved to expand his role by holding referenda in 1996, 1998 and 2003 that allowed him to appoint high-ranking officials without legislative approval, take control of Kyrgyzstan’s foreign policy agenda, and undermine the power balance by bouncing the legislature back and forth between a bicameral and unicameral structure. In 2005, allegations of corruption in parliamentary elections sparked a protest movement that would come to be known as the Tulip Revolution and resulted in Akayev being forced from office.

Akayev was replaced by Kurmanbek Bakiyev, who garnered the support needed to win the election by making promises to return to a parliamentary model of government; he did so in 2006 but less than a year later used a referendum (whose results are considered to be falsified) to institute a presidential constitution that essentially reverted the government to its structure under Akayev. Following his re-election in 2009, Bakiyev continued transferring governmental powers to his office directly or to agencies led by his supporters. 

Bakiyev’s blatant power-grabbing bred discontent in the general population and led to nationwide protests in 2010 that resulted in him fleeing and installing Roza Otunbayeva as interim president. She implemented a new constitution that was a complete reversal of Akayev and Bakiyev’s governments; it significantly decentralized power and stripped the executive’s office of many of the capabilities it had acquired over the previous two decades by returning them to their original homes with the prime minister and legislature. Two particularly striking blows to the president’s power were the restriction to a single six-year term and the loss of the ability to initiate legislation. 

Almazbek Atambayev was inaugurated as president in 2011 in Kyrgyzstan’s first democratic transfer of power. Perhaps having learned from Akayev and Bakiyev, Atambayev did not seek to retain power in as bold a manner as they had — though his attempts backfired in a similarly spectacular fashion. Rather than changing the constitution to give himself more power, Atambayev’s 2016 referendum further reduced the president’s power while increasing that of the prime minister, intending to eventually take that position for himself.  

Before the end of his term, Atambayev placed his supporters in positions of power within the government and heavily backed the presidential bid of Sooronbay Jeenbekov — who won the 2017 election because of this endorsement — because he believed Jeenbekov could be controlled. However, a breakdown in their relationship resulted in Jeenbekov removing Atambayev’s allies from government positions and amending Kyrgyz law so that past presidents could not hold state positions without losing presidential immunity. After publicly criticizing Jeenbekov and the Parliament for this, Atambayev was stripped of presidential immunity and accused of a host of crimes, including corruption and illegally releasing criminals. An operation to arrest Atambayev resulted in an officer’s death and the addition of charges (including murder and organizing mass riots) due to his resistance efforts; he has since been sentenced to 11 years in prison. Though Atambayev was the first president to take power peacefully, he could not let it go the same way, further perpetuating the cycle of instability in Kyrgyz politics. 

Jeenbekov’s tenure as president lasted only three years and ended due to Kyrgyzstan’s third and most recent revolution, provoked by parliamentary elections in October 2020. Rumors of vote-buying and fraudulent voter registration were rampant in the lead-up to the election; Jeenbekov dismissed these as false, but the election results clearly favored the parties associated with election tampering. Peaceful protests quickly turned violent and led to Parliament annulling the results just two days after they were announced. Jeenbekov then went missing for several days, only to emerge a week after the election was annulled to announce his resignation. 

The presidential election, held in January 2021 to decide Jeenbekov’s successor, was won by current president Sadyr Japarov. Japarov’s ascendancy to president surprised many as he had not been a particularly standout politician prior to his meteoric rise. His success can largely be attributed to a framing of the uprising as an anti-elite, anti-status quo movement that sought to return power to the people. Japarov garnered support from the masses by pushing populist ideas such as nationalizing natural resources and plans to redistribute wealth. Additionally, he was aided by his reputation as an “ordinary guy,” which diverged from the rest of the political elite associated with the corrupt government. 

Though he has only been in office a short while, Japarov has already significantly altered the structure of the government. A referendum held just three months after he was elected returned the country to a presidential system that gave the office of the executive more power than it has ever had. The president can now appoint and dismiss judges and other high-ranking officials, strip parliament members of political immunity and initiate laws and referendums. The new constitution greatly erodes the system of checks and balances by giving the president significant leverage over the other branches. The term limit was also amended to allow a president to be reelected to a second term. 

The other major power shift included in the new constitution is the bestowing of significant political power on the Kurultai, an unelected assembly that previously served solely as a consultative body. The Kurultai, which has historically been composed of elders and elites, now can suggest the removal of government officials from office, appoint judges, and propose new laws. It is essentially a duplicate of Parliament, but one that is solely under the control of the President and is unbeholden to voters. Members of the Kurultai tend to be more conservative and orthodox and would likely pass spiritual and moral laws to create a legal basis supporting the shift to traditional values that Kyrgyz culture has already been experiencing over the last few decades. This latest form of the constitution represents a dangerous step back toward a government that is functionally authoritarian and under the complete control of the President.

The political instability and constant constitutional changes Kyrgyzstan has experienced over the past 30 years have had a profoundly negative impact on the nation’s people. According to Saniaa Toktogazieva, Associate Professor at the American University of Central Asia, “there is an unprecedented level of legal nihilism” in Kyrgyzstan today due to the country’s history with politics. The ceaseless shifting of government structure and policy — along with the uneven implementation of the law and the lack of compliance by government officials — has caused people to become increasingly distrustful of the government and legal system. The law is only as powerful and effective as people’s belief in it, and in Kyrgyzstan, that belief has been steadily worn down. When there is no trust in the law, people fall back on social and religious norms, resulting in an increasing Islamization of the population and a return to traditional values. 

Kyrgyzstan is at a turning point in its political history. It can either become a country guided by religion and conservative principles or live up to its reputation as the beacon of democracy and freedom in Central Asia. Only time will tell which path it will take. 

The post Constitutional Chaos: The Turbulent History of Kyrgyzstan’s Constitution and Its Impact appeared first on Glimpse from the Globe.

Cultural events were also affected by the war, especially in the world of sports. On Feb. 28, the International Olympic Committee (IOC) recommended that Russian and Belarusian athletes be suspended from competition. This has since been followed by major leagues across several sports, including tennis, hockey, rugby, and Formula 1. 

Russian oligarch and owner of the Premier League’s Chelsea FC, Roman Abramovich, was ordered by the league to sell his team after being sanctioned by the British government. The Union of European Football Associations (UEFA), the host of the Champions League, banned Russian clubs from the competition and relocated the final from St. Petersburg to Paris. They also ended their partnership with Russian state-owned energy company Gazprom, a deal reportedly worth around €50 million annually. FIFA suspended the Russian national team, eliminating them from the ongoing World Cup Qualifying matches, and Russian skaters were banned from the World Figure Skating Championships, removing some of the best skaters from competition. Russian Formula 1 driver Nikita Mazepin, son of a Russian oligarch and known associate of Putin, had his contract terminated by the American-owned team he raced for.

The swift response of the global athletics community presents an image that sports are built on a solid foundation of morality and political sensitivity. But one only has to look at the history of institutional athletics with states across the world, and more specifically with Russia, to see that this reaction is an anomaly, not the standard.

For as long as they have been around, sports have been a cultural force, and one that best promotes their business by maintaining political neutrality. Even Nazi Germany was allowed to host the 1936 Berlin Olympics, despite their racist and antisemitic policies. In an effort to remain apolitical, these games did the opposite: they legitimized Nazi Germany as a member of the international community and overlooked their gross violations of human rights. In doing so, a playbook was provided on how to use sports as a political tool — one that Vladmir Putin has exploited countless times in his mission to create a more powerful Russia.

Vladimir Putin’s manipulation of global athletics is complex and multi-faceted, targeting both domestic and international audiences for different messages. On the home front, Putin has a history of using sports to promote images of a hyper-masculine, dominant Russian athlete, asserting strength and bolstering nationalistic pride. 

Putin has also used sports to integrate Russia within the international community more firmly, hosting enormous events such as the 2014 Sochi Olympics or the 2018 World Cup. These events drew awe from spectators and proved Russia’s resurgent strength as its athletes racked up medals in important competitions.

But Putin’s dedication to Russian athletics was as inherently corrupt as his foreign policy moves against Ukraine. The desperate need for athletic dominance instead left behind scandals during the Sochi Games, as Russian athletes were caught in a long-planned, state-run doping scandal. As Russia cruised to victory at the Games, it was only the actions of a Russian whistleblower that exposed the scheme, which included at least 15 Russian medal winners. As a repercussion, Russia as a nation was banned from the 2022 Olympics and Russian athletes were forced to compete as members of the “Russian Olympic Committee.” Still, these consequences were not enough, as fifteen year old Russian figure skater Kamila Vlaieva was caught doping in Beijing. 

But it was not just Vladmir Putin that corrupted sports. The international athletics community was not only negligent in their attitude toward Russian politics, but complicit in allowing Putin to use sports to distract the world from gross violations of international law.

The 2022 Russian invasion of Ukraine is far from the first time Russia has violated international borders. In 2008, Russia invaded Georgia in a short war that prompted little consequences from the international community. Still, Russia was allowed to host the 2014 Olympic games in Sochi. Three days after the games ended in Sochi, the Russian military invaded Ukraine and annexed Crimea. Once again, Moscow was allowed to continue with their plans to host the 2018 World Cup, despite the egregious crimes they had committed.

Putin and Russia have routinely weaponized sports for geopolitical gain without consequence, fundamentally removing any possible apolitical labeling of international athletics. The global community rewarded Putin for his illegal invasions, legitimizing Russia as a fair competitor and member of the international community when the blood had not stopped flowing from his actions. At least, until now.

In the face of harsh criticism from the athletic community, the invasion of Ukraine has destroyed the nationalistic pride Putin coveted from his people, especially when his own athletes spoke out against him. One example was Russian tennis star Andrey Rublev, who followed his semifinal win at the Dubai championships by writing “No war please” on the lense of the camera filming him. This messaging has eliminated an important tool that Putin used to legitimize himself internationally, and has highlighted Russia’s cultural isolation from the rest of the world, robbing Russian citizens of entertainment and perhaps increasing dissatisfaction with Putin. These athletic sanctions will also have long-term cultural consequences, depressing future Russian athletic talent, which in turn will have immense economic consequences.  

It is possible — and highly likely — that sports sanctions alone will not stop the war in Ukraine. But they have ensured that Putin’s carefully cultivated image of strength and excellence is forever tainted, and has presented a renewed international determination to condemn Russia’s aggressive attempts to reorganize the geopolitical balance of Eastern Europe. Perhaps more importantly, these past weeks have shown that sports can never again be considered apolitical, and have ensured that sports will not be manipulated as a political tool. Rather, they can be used as a balancing force that all can understand, regardless of country or language.

Sports have always been political, despite claims of the opposite. The crimes against humanity committed by China leading up to the Beijing 2022 Olympics, the abuse of migrant workers in preparing for the Qatar 2022 World Cup, and the influx of Saudi Arabian money into British soccer despite their crimes against journalists are all ongoing examples of how the sports world has failed to stand behind human rights. Hopefully, the response of global athletics to the invasion of Ukraine will be indicative of a complete change going forward, and that their advocacy will extend to all corners of the world, not just select crises that are convenient to address.

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