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a small corner of Hell
This week I read the "Ordinary Chechen Life in Wartime" chapter of Anna Politkovskaya's 2003 book A Small Corner of Hell: Dispatches from Chechnya. In the prologue, Politkovskaya wrote:
Politkovskaya meant, I think, that once you knew the truth, there was only one possible moral choice: to end the war. One couldn't cynically assume that everyone was a little bit at fault and therefore nothing need be done, not with horrors of this magnitude.
Politkovskaya was murdered for writing about Chechnya.
She profiles civilians who are dealing with utterly arbitrary arrest and torture, fueled by demands for ransom. She shows, very clearly, what it's like to be in a position where you will accept the authority of any force that will protect you, or even tell you what behavior might be protected. I felt, once I had started reading, that I was morally obligated to continue witnessing.
I'm angry, in a quiet, ongoing way, about the wars the United States has fought during my lifetime and the way those wars have been conducted. I don't think there is a way to fight a good war. But there are ways to fight less evil wars than the one Politkovskaya describes, the one where grandmothers were dragged to "filtration point" torture pits so soldiers could demand their children's cows, and the military shot down its own helicopter because someone in it had records of its crimes. I feel a little bit more hopeful about democracy, considering the alternative.
It's worth saying, also, that this most recent war in Chechnya was Putin's war. I think most Americans-- maybe, most people in the world-- haven't really gotten their heads around what that means. I hesitate to recommend a book on wartime atrocities to anyone, but if you have the fortitude and you care about Russia's role in world politics now, Politkovskaya's work is worth reading.
As contemporaries of this war, we will be held responsible for it. The classic Soviet excuse of not being there and not taking part in anything personally won't work.
So I want you to know the truth. Then you'll be free of cynicism.
Politkovskaya meant, I think, that once you knew the truth, there was only one possible moral choice: to end the war. One couldn't cynically assume that everyone was a little bit at fault and therefore nothing need be done, not with horrors of this magnitude.
Politkovskaya was murdered for writing about Chechnya.
She profiles civilians who are dealing with utterly arbitrary arrest and torture, fueled by demands for ransom. She shows, very clearly, what it's like to be in a position where you will accept the authority of any force that will protect you, or even tell you what behavior might be protected. I felt, once I had started reading, that I was morally obligated to continue witnessing.
I'm angry, in a quiet, ongoing way, about the wars the United States has fought during my lifetime and the way those wars have been conducted. I don't think there is a way to fight a good war. But there are ways to fight less evil wars than the one Politkovskaya describes, the one where grandmothers were dragged to "filtration point" torture pits so soldiers could demand their children's cows, and the military shot down its own helicopter because someone in it had records of its crimes. I feel a little bit more hopeful about democracy, considering the alternative.
It's worth saying, also, that this most recent war in Chechnya was Putin's war. I think most Americans-- maybe, most people in the world-- haven't really gotten their heads around what that means. I hesitate to recommend a book on wartime atrocities to anyone, but if you have the fortitude and you care about Russia's role in world politics now, Politkovskaya's work is worth reading.