Among the Lessons of the War on Ukraine: Never Too Many Democracies, and Why So Many of Us Care About These Refugees

 

Ukraine has never been a particularly important country to America. It was never an independent country before the breakup of the Soviet Union in 1991. That’s when “the Ukraine” as Russian speakers and both their czarist and Soviet governments referred to that part of their domain called it — a name derived from a Slavic word for ‘borderland’ — lost its article, won its independence, and became simply “Ukraine.”

In Czarist Russia, and in the Soviet Union, Ukraine was part of Russia’s homeland. It was called Russia’s “breadbasket,” possessing some of the most fertile farmland in Europe. Many Americans, especially whose ancestors came to this country in the late 19th and early 20the centuries, can trace their roots back to Ukraine. Many of those immigrants were Jewish, because Ukraine was a part of Russia where Jews were permitted to live. But Ukrainians, Jewish and otherwise, faced the tyranny of the czar, in particular forced enlistment into the czar’s army, a likely death sentence.

So while claims that Ukraine had long been a part of Russia are certainly true, most Ukrainians were overjoyed to put an end to that subjective relationship. The United States, for comparison, had long been part of the British Empire, its people the subjects of that empire’s kings, before 1776. I don’t believe the Queen of England harbors any fantasies of reclaiming us like lost children in order to celebrate our Anglo-Saxon roots in one big happy family.

In world history terms, thirty years of independence is not a very long time. But, judging from Ukrainians’ brave, committed response to Putin’s despicable invasion, it appear that it does not take a people very long to develop a love for freedom and independence. People everywhere recognize and honor this emotional, and perhaps spiritual and moral, attachment to our country, our land. Parents would lay down their lives for their children. Families cling loyally to their members. And it is equally natural for human beings to love our home lands. For the great majority of the people of Ukraine, that love is for Ukraine, not for its ancient roots as a subject province of their Slavic cousins in Putin’s “Fatherland.” (Seriously, would you really want Putin for your father?)

Watching the abundance of video images coming these days from Ukraine, its people’s sufferings, and their brave determination to defend their homeland, I find it hard not to cry. It’s also hard not to clamor for our government to do more. To intercede militarily. To send food, and arms. To clear the skies of Russian aircraft with our own armed might. To rush anti-aircraft and anti-tank weaponry to the defenders through any route possible. To fill Poland with American military might — the very same response (it should be recalled) that did not make a difference in Afghanistan — and look for a pretext to send our armies and air power across the border to drive out the Russian invaders. To clear the Russian ships out of the Black Sea with the strength of the American naval power for which we spend billions every year but never — and I would add ‘happily’ — never use.

And I will also acknowledge that when we watch these images coming from a country under attack we are dealing with very deep issues here: families deciding how to protect their children; families forced to leave their elderly behind as they flee for safety; men staying behind to take up arms against an invader while bidding goodbye to their women and children sent away to unknown futures… I will acknowledge, that is, the difficult truth that some commentators have pointed out.

Many of us are ‘feeling for’ the Ukrainians the way we may not have felt (and certainly not to the same degree) for victims of wars in other countries throughout the world, simply because these people look like us. As the Ukrainians insist, in the face of Putin’s paternalistic fantasies, they are Europeans.

And that means for white Americans, like myself, they are white.

My theory is that it’s the back brain — the reptilian brain, the lizard brain — that controls these emotions. One of the first comments I read about the outpouring of American sympathy for the victims of this unprovoked assault by a smaller country by a bigger one was from an observer who praised the American outrage over this clear instance of aggression, but added, “sometime I would like to see the same support when the people fighting for justice and getting hurt are not white.”

I think those who have made troubling observations of this sort have a point. Should we not show a similar degree of support for other hurting peoples?

The civilian victims in Gaza, for example, including women and children, when Israel launches another of its punishment bombing raids and missile attacks on that stateless people in its endless war with Hamas.

Or the thousands of refugees from the Middle East who have not been afforded sympathy or afforded the same generous welcome by the European countries that are now welcoming Ukrainian refugees. Or when the refugees are Asian, Afghani, Central American, or African.

Should we not feel the same compassion for the boatloads of refugees from North Africa and the Eastern Mediterranean who are regarded merely as a problem, a burden, even a threat to a European nation’s way of life, traditional heritage and identity? Just as refugees from Central America, or Haiti, are turned away from America’s borders and told to wait in “temporary quarters” (that last forever) in Mexico, until we get to your case.

The “reptilian brain” theory I referred to above can be explained this way: According to a ‘triune’ model of the brain, dividing the brain into three main areas, the inner region of the basal ganglia is termed the ‘reptilian’ or ‘primal’ brain because it controls our innate, reflexively self-preserving emotions and behavior. These mental reflexes are thought to function in a way that ensures the survival of our species.

The implication is that when white people see other white people suffering, a part of us automatically responds by feeling, ‘hey, that’s us.’ Personally, I don’t have any Ukrainian blood in my ancestry, but when I see screen images of those strong, determined, suffering women, these valiantly committed guys, and the children who need their protection — I have a gut response that says “C’mon, we should be doing something to help!”

The Ukrainian defense of its homeland, the suffering of a people victimized by an aggressive neighbor, has a true, deeply felt, and undeniable claim on the sympathy of Americans and their fellow Europeans.

Our hearts go out to a brave people, as they should, and hopefully some enduring American assistance can follow in the wake of that emotion. But I wish our hearts would go out equally as strongly, and our material support be equally forthcoming, when the victims are Brown or Black.