Putin's aggression has decimated that delicate fluidity between cultures and borders that we strive for in the arts whether as dancers seeking a fluidity of the body or as musicians seeking a fluidity of sound.
By Mikhail Baryshnikov
It’s been almost 50 years since I lived in Russia, and I’ve spent those years living in a free society, but I grew up in Latvia as the son of a Russian military officer in what was then the USSR. My family was part of an occupying population, but even occupied Latvia was more open, and more European, than Russia at that time. So, I am a product of Europe, of Russia and, of course, of America. For what they are worth, my thoughts are filtered through this specific lens.
From the start of the invasion of Ukraine by the armies of Vladimir Putin, I’ve felt deep dread and a certainty that this will be a bloody and horrific conflict. I understood immediately that this move of the Russian army was more threatening than the so-called annexation of Crimea and the separatist insurgency in the Donbas region.
Ukrainians have always been, and still are, friends, neighbors and family. The relationship between the Russian and Ukrainian peoples has been one of easy fluidity between languages, between cultures and between borders. The two countries are incredibly interwoven, but with an awareness and appreciation of subtle cultural differences.
I can’t begin to understand why people would trust and follow a leader like Putin, but Russians historically have struggled under oppressive and brutal leadership. How they end up with such leaders I can’t answer. There are dozens of books to be written on this subject, but let’s remember that even in the free and democratic society in which I live, a shocking percentage of Americans appear to believe outlandish theories related to a “stolen” 2020 election. What this tells me is that ignorance of history and nationalistic fervor are not exclusive to any one country.
I refuse to paint all Russians with the same brush and I think Putin appeals to those who are fearful. I suppose he makes them feel safe in the same way all authoritarian leaders make their people feel protected. It’s a false sense of security because, of course, any day, the protected can easily become the persecuted.
I can’t affect politics or throw Molotov cocktails, and I am not competent to give any thoughts or advice on the matter of what kind of help the U.S., NATO or the Europeans could or should provide to the Ukrainians, but the least I can do is help as many refugees as possible. That’s why I am honored to have been invited by the great writer Boris Akunin and economist Sergei Guriev to join them in launching truerussia.org. I don’t know if True Russia’s humanitarian plea will be seen by citizens of Russia, but the beauty of cyberspace is that it might. They need to know what is being done in their name.
Again, I wouldn’t be worth much as a fighter, but when the Ukrainians are victorious, I would be honored to go and thank them for fighting. In fact, they aren’t fighting just for themselves, but for all of us who believe in free and open societies.
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