When I woke up to the news of war in Ukraine on the 24th of February, the sun was shining here in London, or it seems like it was. We were just past another storm, and it took time to understand. Has it been just four days? It feels like so much longer.

Every piece and bit of information that kept coming in brought us closer to comprehension, and it has been brewing in me, and I have to let it out on paper so it does not engulf and incapacitate.

‘Keep calm and carry on’ is the inherited wisdom we have left from the turbulence of the 20th century, and I see both truth and trickery in it.

When I observe my tiny yet vocal technological world full of pain and opinions, I am both grateful for the advantage of knowing how differently people react to current events and hurt by their indifference. Many would ask, why should their care? There have been wars going on for decades that have been ignored, and how is this one different, and even if it is, why shouldn’t they go on with their seeming happiness, for as long as they can? I’m not saying they shouldn’t. But we don’t live by the motto of ‘happiness loves silence’ anymore, we share it, we make a show of it. Social media algorithms are yet to learn to filter our feed by emotions, and so those of us who have friends in different places get a jumble of dog photos, workout routines, people cowering in bunkers, and the righteous teaching us new history. It is disturbing to see how one person is crying and begging to stop shooting in their hometown one minute, and then read a post about how ‘they deserve it because where have they been for the past eight years’ after.

I find myself in a passive aggressive story discussion with one childhood friend, where she would urge people to remember the suffering of Donbas and say she is against the war, BUT, and me posting photos of bombed Kiev hoping she would see.

Those of us who decide to speak up face an avalanche of support and hatred. People hold strong opinions that weren’t present even in the fledgling form before. Very few were actually concerned for these past eight years. Except for Ukrainians.

How does it involve me personally? Apart from the fact that I am ethnically half Ukrainian, I have no familial links with the country. My ancestors came to Kazakhstan to build a wasted dream of cultivated steppe a century ago. The Ukrainians I know are friends.

I have distant family and friends in Russia. I speak the language. I consider myself culturally Russian. When I say ‘we’ cheering for sports events, I mean Russia.

Is Kazakhstan involved? It might be. There are talks of mobilising our youth, there is air raid training in Nursultan, there are rumours and guesses, but we are not let in on the plans, as usual.

We are on a brink of terrible times, and we should not be mistaken for a second that we ourselves let that happen. But all this would be analysed later, studied in detail, judged without mercy.

I feel ashamed for my obliviousness, for my neglect of civil duty, and that’s the note that rings wrong when I hear ‘keep calm and carry on’. As rational human beings, we want to learn from our mistakes and even though that path is unclear now, it will be later. We only need to think for ourselves and not let our emotions control what we say or do.

Which brings me back to the tiny outlet I have, my social media connections. I reach out to everyone. I remind myself that even though it seems like there is an ocean of misunderstanding between us, I KNOW these people. I KNOW they are not evil. I also KNOW about the strength of propaganda and the willingness to believe in a simple, convenient narrative. I’m NOT going to burn bridges because this is real. Human connections are real and are our biggest strength.

We will need it. 

Image: by Garry Knight