Among Russian leaders, there is a deep-seated fear of being encircled, invaded, subjugated and colonized. This fear is not completely misplaced, as Russia has been invaded by the Poles in 1610, the Swedes in 1709, the French in 1812, the Germans in 1940. These historical events have contributed to the formation of a national narrative that Russia is the innocent victim of Western aggression.

Similarly, Vladimir Putin portrays Russia as a victim of machinations, false promises, and unilateral actions. This politicized narrative of victimhood, popularized by a political scientist John Mearsheimer, starts by telling the stories about how Russia was betrayed, disgraced and outmaneuvered with the admission of Eastern European countries into the NATO and into the European Union.

Since his inauguration as a President, Putin has exploited the political jargon of sovereignty to push back against Western liberal democracies buttressed by non-governmental organizations, for example human rights organizations, military alliances, advanced technologies, and individualist values. By valorizing a capacity to decide on one’s way of life, on one’s form of government, on one’s economic policies, Putin poses himself as a sole guardian of Russia’s national interests and multiethnic civilization.

When resisting Western powers in the name of freedom and sovereign self-determination, it looks as if the Russian elite speaks from the position of weakness against the powerful who do not want to listen their vital concerns and worries. This is perhaps why this political rhetoric of victimhood is so seductive and appealing around the world. Perhaps, there is an emancipatory intent, a will to offer a political alternative.

Unmasking Russia’s Valorization of Sovereignty

But Russia’s assertion of sovereignty does not live up to its liberatory promise – and that for two reasons, at least.

First, Putin’s defensive posture against the West is coupled with another – more aggressive – one, as he longs for the resurgence of national sovereignties and power politics in Europe and beyond, with Russia at the forefront of this venture. The people sitting in the Kremlin are convinced that central political decisions are not made in Germany, France, the UK, let alone in Eastern European Countries, that instead, they are made in faraway places across the Atlantic Ocean.

Second, in the Global South, Putin celebrates the virtues of sovereignty, but in Russia’s neighborhood, he sees any signs of desire for the exercise of a sovereign self-determination as the source of “extremist nationalism,” as the primary sources of instability, hatred, and wars. This restrictive condition to the application of sovereignty is not just a hypocrisy, but a testimony to how Russia, in its struggle against West colonialism, has not even bothered to come terms with its own colonial past and present.

Russian leaders desire the right to determine not only the fate of Russia but also (or rather) the future of its numerous neighbors in Eastern Europe, Caucasus and Central Asia who they believe are sovereign only on paper. Russia’s claim to sovereignty is not simply the emancipatory claim to a national or civilizational independence – it is much broader in scope, involving the far-fetched desire for the recognition of its superiority in the post-Soviet space.

Great Powers and the People

Sovereignty, as it is understood in the Kremlin, is the attribute of the state power, which can be objectively measured by economic and financial statistics, population size, manpower, and military power. To be sovereign in these terms means to have a capacity to sustain a capable military, an autarkic economy, a cultural uniqueness and patriotically minded elite, as Ivan Krastev suggests.

According to such a vision, only great powers are truly sovereign, while all the rest – in other words, most of the countries – must inevitably submit to the will of the stronger. Real sovereignty is backed up by the hard military power, whereas the sovereignty of the weaklings is built on empty words and juridical fictions. Thus understood, sovereignty is a pompous privilege of the few, not the right of all countries, no matter what size.

The way in which Russia interprets and uses the modern idea of sovereign self-determination should be understood in relation to a desire to be a great empire and an independent power-center in the world stage. And at stake in the war against Ukraine is precisely the fate of Russia’s empire along with the great power status. In the case of losing the war, Putin believes, Russia will become a marginal, second-rate power, which comes down to saying it will lose sovereignty. Loss of power over other nations means the loss of sovereignty.

The way in which Russia interprets and uses the modern idea of sovereign self-determination should be understood in relation to a desire to be a great empire and an independent power-center in the world stage.

Endorsing this power-centered approach in thought and in practice, Putin sees the Ukrainian state and nation as artificial constructions, created by hostile forces in a whirlwind of twists and turns in history. Also, the war itself is a tragedy provoked artificially by evil foreign powers, especially, by American imperialists. Ukraine can be “truly” sovereign only if it is cleansed from “extremists,” “ultra-nationalists,” “fascists” in Kyiv, and thus led back to its “natural” path – sit back onto Russia’s lap.

To live up to its superior status and to justify its actions, power strives to measure itself up against and confront other power(s) – but not the people, especially the Slavic brothers. Thus viewed, the Ukrainian people is a mere pawn, a manipulable mass in great power rivalries. The conflict between Russia and Ukraine is shifted to a more abstract plane – to the geopolitical plane on which Russia portrays itself as waging war against the America’s bid for dominance in the world.

What is at stake in Putin’s policies is not the sovereign right of self-determination, but rather the sovereign self-assertion of power. Minorities, peoples, nations, human rights, Transatlantic Relations, European Union, non-governmental organizations – these are just some of the hurdles on the way to unfold fully the Russian power that is unjustly castrated and restricted.

By way of contrast, the Ukrainian people fight for their political independence and territorial integrity, thus overturning the framework of power politics along with its patronizing recommendations to accept the harsh realities of power, one’s “natural” place in the hierarchy of power.

What is revealed with Ukraine’s struggle against the aggression is that the power-based conception of state sovereignty finds its true limit not in counter-power, but rather in the sovereign will of a people to determine its own future. For Putin, this is a hard truth to swallow.

Negotiating Sovereignty

The critical question before us today is whether there is a path from the deadlock of war to the negotiation table. More than any other public figure, Jeffrey Sachs argues that the potential for the escalation raises an urgent need for a diplomatic dialogue.

To end the war, Sachs is convinced that the United States should recognize Russia’s special interests in its neighborhood and promise not to expand the NATO eastward. It is very easy to negotiate the balance of powers behind the closed doors. And according to such a logic, the war would not have broken out if the President Joe Biden were more generous and accommodating towards Russia’s demands.

This economist’s mindset that departs from the bitter criticism of US foreign policy and politics in general is flawed not only because of geopolitical reasons, but – and more importantly – because it downplays something incalculable, something what makes negotiations almost impossible – namely, the people’s sovereign will to decide on its own future. What caused the war is precisely the impossibility of negotiating peacefully between two conflicting claims to sovereignty.

Hence, the key question is whether there is any room for political negotiations between two antagonistic positions – that is, between state sovereignty and popular sovereignty, a will to dominate and a will to be independent, a geopolitical will to divide the world into the spheres of influence, and a will to decide freely one’s own future, a sovereignty as the will of the strongest and a sovereignty as a right.

Considering the current stalemate in the battlefield, it looks as if sovereign victory is more and more impossible. Sooner or later, there must open a window for political negotiations. But for that to happen, the aggressor, Russia, must be forced to realize, that power, even a nuclear power, has limitations.

Janar Mihkelsaar works as a Marie Curie post-doctoral fellow at the University of Jyväskylä.

This project has received funding from the European Research Executive Agency under the European Union’s Horizon TMA MSCA Postdoctoral Fellowships – Global Fellowships action (grant agreement No 101065769).

Funded by the European Union. Views and opinions expressed are however those of the author(s) only and do not necessarily reflect those of the European Union or the European Research Executive Agency. Neither the European Union nor the granting authority can be held responsible for them.

Article image: Unsplash / European Union

Julkaisu Russia-Ukraine War and Sovereignty ilmestyi ensimmäisenä Politiikasta.

Arayik Haroutyunyan, the president of the self-proclaimed Artsakh (Nagorno-Karabakh) Republic, had a grim announcement to make on November 10, 2020. Although the Armenian media had persistently reported about military achievements on the Armenian side of the war that had erupted on September 27, the war was ending with defeat and loss of territory.

Four regions in the south, which had formed parts of the Armenian “security zone” around Karabakh since the 1992–94 war, were retaken by Azerbaijan. Additionally, almost the entire Hadrut region and certain areas of two more regions inside the Soviet-time administrative borders of Nagorno-Karabakh were under the control of the Azerbaijani forces. Moreover, they had taken over the historic fortress town of Shushi (Shusha in Azeri), which president Ilham Aliyev days before had declared to be an important symbol of Azerbaijan’s victory.

Peace Deal Brokered by Russia

Once the Azerbaijani flag flew over the mountainside town of Shushi/a, a peace deal brokered by Russia was concluded by the Armenian prime minister and the presidents of Azerbaijan and Russia. A trilateral statement signed on the night of November 9–10* froze the military positions of the warring parties to a new Line of Contact agreed to be controlled by Russia’s peacekeeping forces. A ceasefire was firmly established after three failed attempts, and this was done before the Azerbaijani forces were able to advance a few kilometres down towards Stepanakert, the administrative centre of the Artsakh Republic, where half of its population of 140,000 people lives.

A ceasefire was necessary to prevent a grave humanitarian catastrophe, but this was not the only reason why the war stopped on the southern outskirts of Stepanakert.

It was necessary to prevent a grave humanitarian catastrophe, but this was not the only reason why the war stopped on the southern outskirts of Stepanakert. The city, which has a Soviet-built, presently modernized airport, became the command headquarters of the almost two thousand Russian peacekeepers (contract servicemen with peacekeeping training), who were on their way to Karabakh before the ink was dry on the trilateral statement. Their mission will expand the military infrastructure which Russia already maintains in the region within the context of its military alliance relationship with Armenia.

The Armenian Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan, who rose to power with Armenia’s “Velvet Revolution” in 2018, had no other option but to accept the peace deal. This war was different from the previous wars in that Azerbaijan was able to rely on Turkey’s military-technical support, and yet—contrarily to the expectations of many Armenians—Russia showed no signs of intervening in Armenia’s favour.

The involvement of Turkey in the conflict intensified Armenia’s mobilization for the defence of Artsakh, but the concept for the interlinked security of Artsakh and Armenia did not gain Russia’s support in the context of its alliance treaties with Armenia. Moscow argued that the war did not seriously threaten the territory of Armenia. The threat was not about an all-out invasion, although border areas in both Armenia and Azerbaijan were not spared by the war.

Armenia did not gain Russia’s support in the context of its alliance treaties with Armenia. Moscow argued that the war did not seriously threaten the territory of Armenia.

The trilateral statement signed on the night of November 9–10 allows Azerbaijan to regain all seven regions in the Armenian “security zone” around Karabakh. In addition, the Karabakh area subject to future negotiations will diminish by almost one third. The land connection to Armenia through Lachin will remain open under the control of the Russian peacekeepers.

However, the most complex issue is the realization of the corridor which the peace deal promises to create through Armenia’s Meghri region in the proximity of Armenia’s border with Iran. In addition to providing Azerbaijan a land connection to its exclave Nakhchivan, this corridor will provide Turkey a connection to Azerbaijan’s ports on the Caspian Sea and, consequently, connect it with important energy and trading routes in Central Asia and in China.

The most complex issue is the realization of the corridor which the peace deal promises to create through Armenia’s Meghri region in the proximity of Armenia’s border with Iran.

In Armenia, the corridor is a politically explosive issue. The people in Armenia were left disappointed by the results of the meeting between the Russian and Azerbaijani presidents and the Armenian prime minister in Moscow on January 11, 2021. The second trilateral statement signed then side-lined burning issues about border demarcation and prisoners of war and focused exclusively on transit issues and the construction of new road and railroad connections.

As in the Soviet past, large infrastructure projects were given top priority, although many local communities could not be informed whether they were on the Armenian or the Azerbaijani side of the border.

Tragic Nature of the Conflict

The peace deal made Pashinyan a “traitor” in the eyes of those Armenians, who presently pin their hopes on the possibility of a new, partisan war. However, many Armenians also question the necessity of having had the war continue for almost six weeks. They remind their fellow Armenians that it—for several years now—has been only a matter of time before Armenia would have to give up at least the seven regions.

The war did not cease, because nationalist ideology nourishes political power in both countries and makes it difficult to seriously negotiate with the “enemy”.  Pashinyan could not make “concessions” without losing his political power; Aliyev had to win in order to secure his own power base. The brutal battle in the southern part of the disputed region and over Shushi/a clearly revealed the tragic nature of this conflict, which in both countries is a consequence of the dominant discourse, where the Karabakh issue is not only about the disputed geographical region but also about national identity and independent statehood.

The war did not cease, because nationalist ideology nourishes political power in both countries and makes it difficult to seriously negotiate with the “enemy”.

However, although the interplay of popular sentiment, elite structures, and political leadership is important in understanding the violent outbursts of the conflict, it does not suffice to make sense of its larger structure which also involves external interests. It gives us only a few pieces in its geopolitical puzzle.

If we examine the puzzle pieces in the game which Moscow plays to settle the conflict, we can see that the ideal combinations of action and policies (sets of joining pieces) are those which enable the development of Russia’s close relations with both Armenia and Azerbaijan and also facilitate its cooperation with Turkey and Iran. This puzzle is too complicated to be considered a premeditated plan.

It is more accurate to regard it as an ever-present game in which the pieces can be assembled at a moment when they fit together and help to strengthen the “stability and peace” that Russia pursues in and around Nagorno-Karabakh, in order to secure its long-term security interests and economic goals in the region.

War as an Opportunity to Put Pieces Together

The forty-four-day war put a strain on Russian diplomacy and policymaking, but it also gave Moscow an opportune moment to piece together a few components in its policy on the Karabakh conflict and the region around it.

First, the acknowledgement of Azerbaijan’s territorial gains in the peace deal promotes the positive relationship with Baku which Moscow needs to be able to further develop cooperation based on the strategic partnership between the two countries. Russia’s goal is to keep Azerbaijan committed to the bilateral treaty obligations which maintain friendly relations with Russia and provide a political framework for military-technical cooperation (the export of Russian arms and arm systems to Azerbaijan), energy trading and transport infrastructure development together with Russia.

Although the Minsk Group co-chairs (Russia, France and USA) had greeted Armenia’s “Velvet Revolution” as a new possibility for sustained negotiations, Prime Minister Pashinyan had avoided discussing the territorial issues and argued instead that Artsakh must speak with its own voice in the negotiations. When the war had achieved what the derailed negotiations could not achieve, President Vladimir Putin and other authorities in Russia did not forget to mention that a similar outcome could have been reached through peaceful means.

Russia’s goal is to keep Azerbaijan committed to the bilateral treaty obligations which maintain friendly relations with Russia and provide a political framework for the export of Russian arms and arm systems to Azerbaijan, energy trading and transport infrastructure development together with Russia.

Second, the agreement reached by the Azerbaijani and Russian presidents and the Armenian prime minister on the night of November 9–10 made it possible for Russia to achieve a goal it could not achieve back in 1994, in other words to send its peacekeepers to the conflict zone. Whereas the so-called Grachev plan (according to Pavel Grachev, Russia’s Minister of Defence 1992–96) proposed to deploy Russian peacekeepers in the Kelbajar region in the Armenian “security zone”, the present deployment is in the centre of Karabakh.

The initial numbers of the military personnel, together with the hundreds of Russian civilian experts and officials, whose mission is humanitarian work, suggest that the interactions between Russia and the self-proclaimed state will increase radically. Before the war, these interactions were only modest and, even then, organized through Armenia. Consequently, Russia will not only establish military presence in Artsakh; it will also play a key role in the future development of this disputed region.

The trilateral statement of November 9–10 allows Russia to extend its control over border zones in both Karabakh and Armenia.

Third, the trilateral statement of November 9–10 allows Russia to extend its control over border zones in both Karabakh and Armenia. The new Line of Contact between Artsakh and Azerbaijan, as well as the five-kilometre-wide Lachin corridor, which provides the land connection between Artsakh and Armenia through the territory regained by Azerbaijan, will be controlled by Russia’s peacekeepers.

The southern corridor, which will be designed to facilitate Azerbaijani and Turkish transit through Armenian territory in the proximity of its border with Iran, will in turn be controlled by the Border Guard Service of Russia’s Federal Security Service. These arrangements in the proximity of the border with Iran, which traditionally is Russia’s strategic border, are flexible to accommodate changes as the situation evolves in a region which may well become a hotbed of conflict and tension.

Russia also places high strategic importance on the Armenian border with Turkey. Russia’s military presence is already secure on this border due to its major military base at Gyumri.

Regional Affairs Controlled by Regional Powers

Fourth, the war gave Russia an opportunity to argue that regional affairs can be best controlled by regional powers. Although it is persistent in its argument that the OSCE Minsk Group must remain the formal framework of negotiations, it keeps the Armenian part of Karabakh in its own control and develops practical cooperation with Turkey.

Russia’s interpretation of the memorandum on the establishment of a joint Russian–Turkish ceasefire control centre, which was signed by the Russian and Turkish ministers of defence, Sergei Shoigu and Hulusi Akar, on November 11 (2020), shows that the new Line of Contact is meant to be a dividing line between Russian and Turkish interests. The joint control centre will operate in Agdam on the Azerbaijani side of this line and use mainly drone technology for carrying out its monitoring tasks.

The possible presence of the Turkish military personnel in the area controlled by Artsakh is a highly contentious issue in Moscow’s relations with Ankara. The war revealed disagreement between the two parties on several issues starting from Turkey’s open support for the use of military force in the disputed region and its practices to recruit mercenary fighters from Syria for combat tasks there.

The war gave Russia an opportunity to argue that regional affairs can be best controlled by regional powers.

Yet their cooperation in the post-war situation prompted Russia’s foreign minister Sergey Lavrov to applaud this relationship between “independent states” which “do not put forward ultimatums” and “do not bow to anyone”. Instead, they can reconcile their differences and “combine efforts and promote a ceasefire in various conflict zones”. Lavrov’s argument suggests that Russia will seek to convert the challenges brought by Turkey’s increased military presence in the South Caucasus into new opportunities and strengths outside this region.

Iran is a far less problematic piece in Russia’s Karabakh puzzle. Iran’s main concern is the security and stability of its northwestern border regions on its borders with both Armenia and Azerbaijan. The war strengthened Tehran’s efforts to maintain good relations with both neighbouring countries and to promote the development of different forms of cooperation between the three large states—Russia, Turkey and Iran—and the states in the South Caucasus region.

The development of regional cooperation supports the idea of a regional context for the negotiations, which in turn expands Russia’s room for manoeuvre in its relations with the two other co-chairs in the Minsk Group. Consequently, Iran’s diplomatic activity has been welcome in Moscow: it supports Russia’s policies from the side-lines of the trilateral negotiations and helps constrain the ambitions of both Turkey and the Western states in the region.

Tightened Structure of the Conflict

Finally, the peace deal ensures that Karabakh continues to be Russia’s main leverage over the direction of security policies and international integration in both Armenia and Azerbaijan. Without Russia, Armenia will not be able to credibly resist Azerbaijan’s claims over the remaining areas of Karabakh. Similarly, without developing its partnership with Russia, Azerbaijan will lack the means to prevent Russia’s policies from weighing in favour of Armenia on the Karabakh issue.

Armenia and Azerbaijan would be able to disassemble the puzzle that Russia attempts to compose by dividing the disputed territory between the two of them peacefully. If political space for such initiatives did exist, the conflict would be very different to what we see today.

The 2020 war resulted in a smaller region where international status remains unsolved, but it also locked the conflict into an even tighter security structure than before the war. In consequence of the peace deal, the security arrangements for the self-proclaimed state of Artsakh have changed.

Armenia and Azerbaijan would be able to disassemble the puzzle that Russia attempts to compose by dividing the disputed territory between the two of them peacefully. If political space for such initiatives did exist, the conflict would be very different to what we see today.

Before the war, Artsakh had to rely on the tenuous connection between the Armenian policy, which states that Armenia is the guarantor for its security, and Armenia’s alliance relationship with Russia. After the war, the people living in Artsakh can reasonably expect that the Azerbaijani and Turkish military personnel will be aware of the risks involved in incidents that endanger Russia’s peacekeepers.

They can point out that the military and political elites in the respective hostile countries should recall the events in neighbouring Georgia. In 2008, a deadly attack on Russia’s peacekeepers in South Ossetia became instrumental for Russia’s military intervention and the final separation of South Ossetia and Abkhazia from Georgia. After 2020, the people in Artsakh can argue that Russia’s peacekeeping in Karabakh is pre-emptive action intended to forestall a similar large-scale military conflict in this South Caucasus region.

From the perspective of Artsakh, the news announced by Haroutyunyan on November 10 was thus not entirely grim.

*) Because of the time difference the date of signing the statement in a video conference in Moscow is November 9, whereas the date in both Baku and Yerevan is November 10.

Helena Rytövuori-Apunen has retired from the University of Tampere, where she was a Senior Researcher at the Tampere Peace Research Institute and a Professor in Politics and International Relations. Her latest single-authored monograph is titled Power and Conflict in Russia’s Borderlands: The Post-Soviet Geopolitics of Dispute Resolution (I.B. Tauris/Bloomsbury, 2020). The present article is a new, original text.

Julkaisu The 2020 Nagorno-Karabakh war in Russia’s geopolitical puzzle ilmestyi ensimmäisenä Politiikasta.

The Distant Barking of the Dogs
Directed by Simon Lereng Wilmont (2017)

Two documentaries, The Distant Barking of Dogs and The Trial, shed light on the situation in Ukraine. Four years down the Euromaidan Revolution, Ukraine and Russia stand strong in claiming their ‘truths’ on major turning points of the countries’ modern history, the annexation of Crimea and war in Donbas.

“I don’t know what the point of having principles is if you are not prepared to suffer or even die for them” (Oleg Sentsov, 2014).

Four years down the Euromaidan Revolution, Ukraine and Russia stand strong in claiming their ‘truths’ on major turning points of the countries’ modern history: the annexation of Crimea and war in Donbas. Political repressions or physical extermination of the population of these regions are recorded by both the local and international observers. Yet, explicit exposure of commonality of such occurrences remains rare. The prominent poet and former member of the Ukrainian parliament, Ivan Drach, explains such entrenchment of silence by massive public fear.

Two films at the DocPoint festival, Simon Lereng Wilmont’s documentary, The Distant Barking of Dogs, and Askold Kurov’s work, The Trial: The State of Russia vs Oleg Sentsov recording the triumph of human dignity over the plaque of such fear. The viewers of both films are given unique opportunity to draw personal conclusions on methodology and reasoning of such fearless life.

The viewers of both films are given unique opportunity to draw personal conclusions on methodology and reasoning of such fearless life.

The protagonists of these documentaries are both named Oleg. Wilmont’s main character, Oleg, is a ten-year-old boy who lives in eastern Ukraine in a village called Hnutove — a warzone undergoing continuous military strikes. By choice of his grandmother, he remains at his native village and learns to live, conquer and at times simply hide his trembling.

“We are men. We have to endure everything,” says Oleg to his friend Kostya in The Distant Barking of Dogs.

The other film presents Oleg Sentsov, 41, a Ukrainian film director and Euromaidan activist who was born in Simferopol, Crimea, and is best known for his film Gaamer (2011). In May of 2014, Sentsov was arrested by Federal Security Service of the Russian Federation and was charged with leading an anti-Russian terrorist movement. He was accused in planning attacks on power lines, bridges and a monument of Lenin during the Russian annexation, and is now serving his 20 years’ imprisonment in Siberia.

The Trial takes the viewer into both private and public realm of  Sentsov, where he, his family and distant circle of friends have an opportunity to peek into how the Russian state actually operates. As Variety defines, “…it leaves you with a shuddering wind of chill”.

When asked if he considers himself a Ukrainian filmmaker, Sentsov replies “of course, I am a citizen of Ukraine. I am Russian by nationality and live in Crimea” (The Trial, 2014). Active participant of the Euromaidan revolution, Sentsov chooses to stay at his place of birth, the Crimea. Similarly to the 10-year-old boy Oleg from Donbas, remaining faithful to his homeland has several consequences to Sentsov’s life: threat to his physical and emotional well-being, as well as that of his family and close circle of friends.

“But we are not moving. Like we say in Ukraine, ‘every dog is a lion in its own home,’ says grandmother of little Oleg (The Distant Barking of Dogs, 2017).

Discussing his film at the Danyliw Research Seminar on contemporary Ukraine in Ottawa, Canada, in November of 2017, Kurov, director of The Trial, expressed his shock about how fabricated Sentsov’s case was. At the same time, he emphasized the importance of Sentsov’s words stated at the final speech of his trail: “Learn not to be afraid.”

Given that “neither the judges nor the state [are caring] about how fake the whole situation is, one cannot help Oleg,” says Kurov in Ottawa. Main characters of The Distant Barking of Dogs (2017) are also left alone, “caught between two fires”, as the Grandmother of the boy describes. They cannot explain the framework where they are bound.

When asked on how The Trial got funding, Kurov replies: “It was the most difficult thing because we could not find any funding in Russia and even in Ukraine… We raised money with the help of our co-producer in Poland, from the Polish Film Institute”. As such, the film has virtually turned into a ‘post-Soviet’ production, as it was funded and widely supported by Poland, Estonia and other post-communist states. Within such circumstances, “the only thing one can do is to take a camera and make this document.”

And though he “[does] not believe that some movie can change the situation,” Kurov continues, “[he] still believes that a movie can change a person who can then influence the course of history.”

Begin present at the Danyliw Seminar as a Canadian-Ukrainian researcher working on Ukraine, it was particularly powerful to hear the discussion of  Kurov’s work in North America: the author of the documentary about powerlessness of an ordinary citizen within modern Russian state was still capable of traveling freely and reaching the audience in the West.

The fact of Kurov participating at the Ukrainian studies seminar and showing his documentary in Canada was almost a paradox in itself. When asked “whether he was not afraid to be next,” Kurov replied that “probably, the list [was] still too long and [he] should be fine.”

Similar to the Danyliw Seminar, DocPoint offers unique space where such collision of two types of ‘freedoms’ is possible—the freedom of speech of western society and that of immense desire for dignity and liberation of the post-Soviet space

DocPoint offers unique space where such collision of two types of ‘freedoms’ is possible—the freedom of speech of western society and that of immense desire for dignity and liberation of the post-Soviet space.

Watching the two films, I felt that it is important to accentuate the degree of awareness of  Sentsov and grandmother of Oleg (and thus, little Oleg) in Donbas who, put into the situation of both physical and emotional turmoil, make the decision to stay and carry on with their lives.

It is not by choice that ten-year-old Oleg and his family are unable to sleep, or eat, and are shaking under the shellfire. Neither is Sentsov’s family in Crimea has chosen to wait for a call from Moscow (and now Siberia) as to have a short talk with their son, brother or father.

Unfortunately, what both of these films illustrate is that, despite the fact that Ukraine has chosen its path towards Europe and Russia is seen to follow its own, ‘independent’ course, ordinary citizens of the post-Soviet states remain caught between fires of big political games. It becomes up to families, friends or passionate artists and activists like Wilmont, Kurov and many others as to stand up and voice their life ‘scenarios.’

To borrow again from Kurov’s talk in Canada: “I have a feeling that we are doing something in vain. But… I do believe that we must do something. To keep doing this.”

Today, as the world is witnessing the formation of ‘European Ukraine,’ ‘new Russia,’ or, as Kurov puts it, ‘new Soviet Union,’ the camera of an artist offers space for production of personal realism. What would one fill it with—fear or mutual reliance?

Arguably, the practice of transitioning from state of helplessness to that of hope, while hiding at the bomb shelter or facing political show trial, becomes but another critical process of daily meaning-making.

DocPoint Helsinki Documentary Film Festival takes place on Jan 29th – Feb 4th 2018.

Anna Kutkina is a PhD candidate of the University of Helsinki and a Doctoral member of the Aleksanteri Institute conducting research on socio-political developments of post-Euromaidan Ukraine.

Julkaisu DocPoint: Between Two Fires: the States vs People ilmestyi ensimmäisenä Politiikasta.