Ukraine Crisis Can stories defeat Putin?
Op-ed by Jo Nesbø, Le Monde, April 7, 2022
Vladimir Putin’s narrative that Russia invaded Ukraine to save a repressed people from 'a gang of drug addicts and neo-Nazis' has gone down well, in Russia. Is this the real battlefield, the narrative? And what role can fiction play when the truth has fallen?
[...] in an era in which the truth has been devalued by fake news and propaganda, where powerful leaders are elected on a wave of emotion rather than their merits or political viewpoints, facts no longer carry the same weight they once did.
Facts have had to give way to stories that appeal to our emotions, stories about us and what defines us as a group, a nation, a culture, a religion. Perhaps it wasn’t a lack of weapons or military power that lost the wars of occupation in Vietnam and Afghanistan, perhaps it was a lack of stories that could “win people’s hearts and minds”. Or, more accurately: perhaps it was because the opposition had better stories.
"The first casualty of war is truth," said California Senator Hiram Johnson in 1917 - and it's one of the most often mentioned quotes about the current war in Ukraine. A quote used, among other things, to remind journalists how vulnerable fact-based truth is when two sides are fighting to impose their own version of events. But it also reminds us how naive it is to believe that a journalist - no matter how honest and independent - can separate his work from his own culture, nationality and inherited worldview, especially in times of war. [...]
In 1937, when the fascist general Franco bombed Guernica, massacring the civilian population, the whole city stood witness to what had happened. As soon as images of the destruction and the victims began to circulate, Franco and his generals, understanding the stir this would cause in Spain and abroad, insisted that the Republican population of Guernica had destroyed their city themselves.
For a long time, this version of events was believed -- at least by those who wanted to believe it. But the Republicans had a better storyteller on their side: Pablo Picasso countered with one of his most famous paintings, Guernica, which depicts hell falling on the small Basque town. Painted in Paris in 1937, this work is a non-objective representation of events, the product of an artist's imagination and experience, but it helped open the eyes of Europe. It was exhibited in Paris the same year, and then all over the continent, inspiring volunteers to go and fight alongside the Spanish Republicans.
If Guernica is both a work of propaganda and a masterpiece, so is Sergei Eisenstein's Battleship Potemkin [1925], commissioned by the Soviet authorities to celebrate the twentieth anniversary of the 1905 revolution. While both works speak of real events, they also take great artistic liberties - the famous scene of the massacre on the monumental staircase in Odessa, for example, never actually took place.
But a fiction writer need not worry about such details. His goal is to tell something true, but not necessarily something factually true. To touch hearts and minds - not to report the number of deaths, who did what to whom, when and where. This freedom is what gives fiction its power, especially when we, the audience, are not aware that we are dealing with propaganda.
Tanner Mirrlees, a professor at the University of Ontario Institute of Technology, is the author of Hearts and Mines: The U.S. Empire's Culture Industry [2016]. In it, he explains how the U.S. Office of War Information created a division during World War II devoted exclusively to Hollywood, the Motion Picture Service. Between 1942 and 1945, the department reviewed 1,652 manuscripts, rewriting or deleting anything that portrayed the United States in an unfavorable light, including anything showing Americans as "indifferent or opposed to the war." [...]
Today, the whole world is sitting in the same theater watching the events unfolding in Ukraine. But what we are seeing are dubbed versions in each of our languages, which means that we are not all hearing the same story. There is a battle going on between the different versions of the story; the best one will triumph. Or, as the Norwegian film critic Mode Steinkjer writes in the daily Dagsavisen, "In war, the aim is not only to destroy this or that civilian or military target; it is just as much to win the hearts and minds of those parts of the world's population that are not directly involved in the conflict."
So the question is, what steps are we willing to take to win those hearts and minds, especially in a situation where a dictator like Vladimir Putin is playing by his own rules, deploying a kind of censorship and propaganda that we thought had been banned.
Is it desirable - or even proper - to play by Mr. Putin's rules? Isn't it contradictory for a democratic country to give up principles like freedom of speech and transparency, even if its goal is to temporarily protect these freedoms? Winston Churchill once said, "In time of war, truth is so precious that it must always be protected by a bulwark of lies." A pessimistic mind might add that in wartime lies are so precious that they must be protected by new lies, but the problem is that there will always be a new war or conflict somewhere to provide an excuse for new lies.
Optimists, including myself, can hope that the truth -- the imperfect, subjective truth of a journalist, artist, or any other story writer trying to express something true -- will win. We can hope that Abraham Lincoln was right when he said that "you can't fool all of the people all of the time" - in any case, the implosion of the Soviet Union or the ousting of Donald Trump from the White House point in that direction. Faced with the thousand and one versions of reality that we are served, we are not forced to give in and accept the idea that all versions are equally true. Some are truer than others.
We follow the day-to-day developments in military events, sanctions and diplomacy. But the war of stories is a long war. It is a war that Vladimir Putin will eventually lose, no matter how many bulwarks he surrounds his lies with. The only question is when.
Franco ruled Spain for almost forty years [from 1936 to 1975], with censorship among his main weapons of defense. But in the end, he was defeated in the history books; the Spanish people demolished his legacy and his ideas. Guernica was first exhibited in Spain in 1981, six years after Franco's death. In the space of just twelve months, the painting was seen by more than one million people, and today it remains one of the greatest attractions of the Reina Sofia Museum in Madrid. Because the truest stories - if not always the most factual - are the best.