Thought Leadership
by Jochen M. Richter, Chairman Diplomatic Council Global Security Forum
End of November 2024 I am for the second time coming to Lviv in Ukraine. Not only for the discussions with my family how safe it will be, it feels different. Arriving by plane in Rzeszow it becomes already obvious. The airport is secured by three batteries of Patriot systems. My colleague from Sweden, attending the same event, notices this too, adding that this is his first visit to Ukraine.
Being brought by car into Lviv I recognise some places from my January visit, facilitating later walking out for dinner to the main square. While as previously some buildings are secured by sandbags, the many signs of those who passed in the war are less visible. Are people getting tired and crave for normality? In the hotel I find everywhere signs that windows have to remain with closed curtains between midnight and 5 am so that attack drones see them a bit more difficult.
After an uninterrupted night I am meeting the next morning with university representatives to discuss the future round of my lectures. We also agree the publication details of my book about Romania’s EU accession experience in Ukrainian. Translation is almost finished. Much needed this book as a learning one states, and the publisher conveys that he is eying the Kyiv book fare to launch the book in 2025.
In the afternoon I have the honour of addressing around 150 participants from communes around the country but also representatives from government and the Rada, the national parliament. My keynote speech turns around the challenges of preparing for EU membership. Questions are asked in respect to the title of the book “Last Train West”. Would there be no further train to catch for Ukraine? I try to send optimistic messages while calling for realism. Worries are also expressed about the fresh results of the first round of the presidential elections in Romania.
During the afternoon I am approached by several participants who have a variety of questions, mostly concerning how they can prepare for their local needs and adapt structures. But I also learn a lot about their life circumstances, many facing very regular night alarms and power cuts. For most representatives from the east of Ukraine, manpower is the regular challenge. Either people defend our country, or they serve our citizens, as one put it.
The following night is interrupted at 1 am by air alarm. Hesitating whether to rush to the shelter in the hotel I check the app. I decide to wait a while as I have followed the weeks before the pattern of such alarms. Since there is no second alarm, I stay in bed just putting my coat next to me, in case the situation changes. Fortunately, after 30 minutes the situation is cleared. I am trying to find back to sleep.
My Swedish colleague is at the same time 200 km further to the east in his twin city Shepetivka. He has to haste to the shelter and can hear the approaching attack and defence fire. His team colleague is a bit slower and barely makes it to the shelter before the door is closed, as I learn the next day.
The morning after I pay a visit to the biggest rehab centre in Ukraine. It is called Unbroken and hosts between 60 and up to 200 persons with all kinds of war related injuries. While we see only the lightest layers it is oppressive enough. The head of the medical team, guiding us through the building, explains their interdisciplinary treatment scheme going much further than only working on the medical consequences. But he explains that many, among them also children, are struggling for long to accept their new reality. They handle anything from lost limbs, other traumas to spine injuries and plastic surgeries. Despite their own prosthesis centre, a hub of incredible innovation, he points to the fact that he has regularly patients who lost their memory how to walk. With pride he shows us the statute of the first patient who received a state-of-the-art prothesis. With these dire thoughts in mind for a second I have a bit of understanding for those in some western countries calling for peace talks whatever the conditions.
But later that afternoon, I see another side of what this aggression by Russia means for this country. First, I am approached by the deputy of the city council of Mariupol. She explains their work as “city council in exile” still keeping their community in contact. Next, I get the request from a representative from the Luhansk region. They have a network of students and young professionals that are relocated but would like to learn more about EU integration. We agree to sound out option how they can take part in my lecture series that shall restart early 2025. Thereafter I have a long and at times tense exchange with several representatives from the occupied territories. While they explain how their life and work is, for none of them territorial concessions are an option. Peace for them has to be just and not at any rate. There is also a representative of the territorial defence corps present for whom our exchange seems most difficult. All participants stress that they want to be part of the free West.
The end of our conversation holds a surprise for me. He reaches in his pockets and hands me his team’s military badge. And then he drags me closer giving me a hug.
The next day, leaving to return to Rzeszow, there is a representative from Zaporizhzhia with us in the car. He lives 13 km from the front line and had to experience previously time under Russian occupation. His stories and pictures on his phone are mind-blowing. Yet, with calm and passion he speaks about the future and how they continue to work for their citizens. The seriousness of the situation is finally demonstrated by the presence of a military plane at Rzeszow airport, delaying a bit our take-off.
My conclusion is that we as Europeans cannot leave this country alone in their struggle to remain a free and self-determined nation.