Category: Enrique

…if some are wondering why I haven’t posted anything since Friday it’s because I’m travelling to Argentina. When I get to Bueno Aires, I’ll post something over the weekend.

I’m heading from summer to cold winter in the Southern Hemisphere.

Who would write about the plight of immigrants if we wouldn’t?

I’ve traveled for such a long time that sojourning feels tireless. So much wandering for so many generations… The former lands of my late relatives appear from afar like strange custom.

It’s all time’s fault. It always is because it encourages us to move on and there’s no turning back when you do. Even if I wanted, I cannot get the answer from the frozen black-and-white images in pictures taken over a century ago. What did they search so hard for in foreign lands?

I’m nobody but a process, a link on an endless human chain, they may respond to my question and return to their near-interminable silence.

But thanks for allowing me to share my thoughts and tell you that what lies over yonder, over that hill where it’s supposedly greener, only lives hope.

If I’d have to describe hope, it’s nothing more than a transit lounge of humanity where paths of life extend in every direction. Such trails are decorated on both sides by Earth’s bountiful and sometimes breathtaking landscapes.

Milan, Italy, March 4, 2001

…and another warm day where time takes its time. The lake near the town of Mikkeli in eastern Finland looks so comforting, like a liquid bed where you can rest and leave your cares on shore. I dedicate these four pictures to all the nice people I’ve met blogging.

If you’re in the Northern Hemisphere, I hope you’re enjoying summer as I am.

Please ask if you’re going to use these pictures elsewhere. Many thanks.

Click on Picture 1: Here’s a waterlily, probably middle-aged, resting on the lake.

Click on picture 2: In the shallow part of the lake the sand and stones rejoice because of the warmth emitted by excess sunlight.

Click on picture 3: Here’s a better view of the lake in eastern Finland.

Click on picture 4: This picture, taken by my son Dante, was shot about eight hours later. The sun works in mysterious ways in the Sub-Arctic.

I’ve been thinking about an interesting comment Savannah made on how do we put an end to the insanity and the culture of violence to prevalent in the world.

There is a saying in Spain that goes something like the following: No se puede amar lo que se desconoce, you cannot love something that you do not know.

So how could we learn to know those we do not know and thereby create a more harmonious world?

Will geography awaken the world to a new dawn?

If I could, I would make geography one of the most mandatory subjects at schools. Geography courses would be highly recommended for adults as well.

The geography classes wouldn’t dwell on superficial matters like capital cities, but also detailed knowledge of the provinces/states, counties and even neighborhoods of major cities. Those courses would include some anthropology/sociology and history, but just enough to not permit students to sit and fall asleep comfortably in the armchair of stereotypes and cultural myths.

With a better knowledge of where different people live and what their cultures are, we would end up promoting a better coexistence between nations and their inhabitants. Even politicians, who thrive on some voters’ ignorance of geography and cultures, would have a more difficult time arguing a new case for war.

Knowledge of geography is the first key step in creating a world that would not not thrive on suspicion of other peoples and war.

I’ve been thinking for a while about the S.U.V. that slammed through the door of Glasgow Airport. Fortunately there weren’t any innocent bystanders that were injured nor killed by the horrifically stupid act.

Even so, everything must be put in context. We’re talking about one S.U.V set alight by two drivers. The unsuccessful plot to detonate a car bomb in London is, however, a more serious matter because the intent was to kill and cause the greatest amount of injury and death on Londoners and tourists.

Just as U.S. and coalition forces were about to romp Saddam Hussein militarily in 2003, John Steinbeck’s The Moon is Down came to mind. I don’t work for the State Department nor did I get a Ph.D in political science, but I understood at the time that the U.S. was getting itself in deep water because of the invasion. There’s one basic reason why: A foreign Christian army is invading a Muslim country.

Published in 1942, Steinbeck’s novel takes place at a coal-mining town somewhere in Continental Europe. The occupying army attempts to force the townspeople into submission but the contrary happens. Resistance to the occupying force mounts with acts of sabotage to the coal mine.

In the end, the invaders realize the futility of their campaign and it becomes clear to them that they have lost the war. The flies, as Steinbeck so eloquently writes at the end of the novel, had conquered the flypaper.

Iraq and the S.U.V. incident prove that the moon is down on the so-called war on terror. The moon will continue to sink deeper for as long as we allow those who are profiting economically and politically from the war to continue to operate and rule with our blessings.

As long as we don’t find political solutions in earnest in the troubled Middle East and elsewhere globally, we’ll be the flypaper and our real and imagined enemies the flies.

I was pretty amazed when I read an AP story where Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice said in Paris after meeting with France’s new President Nicolas Sarkozy that democracy will come to the the Middle East no matter what.

“Yeah, it’s really hard,” she said. “It’s hard for democracy to take hold in a place where it has not taken hold before, but I am confident about the triumph of these values because I’ve seen it before.”

Rice continues: “Democracy is hard and I see it as especially hard when there are determined enemies who try and strangle it.”

While it’s debatable if the Bush administration wants democracy in the Middle East in the first place, Rice’s and Washington’s foreign policy continues to show a remarkable amount of ignorance of how the world has changed since the invasion of Iraq.

If anything, it reveals how fixated the US is on imposing its unilateral will on other countries.

One way to show how out of touch Bush’s foreign policy is to pay close attention to what gurus like Henry Kissinger, Zbigniew Brezinski and Brent Scocroft said recently about the US and its role in the world.

While they all served under different administrations, they agreed that the US needs to be less arrogant about using its might and more willing to talk with other countries.

One of the many big lessons learned from the Iraq debacle is that a hyperpower like the US can impose its will on smaller countries and rogue states through sheer might but this method is no longer feasible.

Might in no longer right. It can, however, get you in a hell of a costly mess.

Kesä on vihdoin saapunut näille pohjoisille asteille. Vaikka tämä kaikkein suosituin vuodenaika on saapunut miljoonien vuosien ajan, aina se epäröi ennen kuin muuttaa maisemat niin perusteellisesti.

Pikku epäröinti, jota luonto harrastaa on ymmärrettävä. Vuoden ajat tällä hiljaisella Euroopan nurkalla eivät ole koskaan kevytmielinen asia, vaan ne ovat kuin vallankumouksia.

Pian ihmettä alkaa tapahtua: lehdet puhkeavat, lumpeet nousevat järven pinnalle, lentävät sudenkorennot ja perhoset maalavat matalaa taivasta kiusallisten hyttysten kanssa; linnut lentävät edes takaisin nokassaan ruokaa poikasilleen. Kuuset, männyt ja metsien saaret, joissa asuu koivuja muutaman pihlajan ja leppäpuun kanssa, ovat erityisen puheliaita kesällä.

Kesä on niin hurmaava ja pyhä aika meille, että vain hyvien asioiden sallitaan tapahtuvan.

Vaikka on vaaralista yleistää, millainen kansan luonne on, suomalaiset ovat oppineet kantapäänkautta kuinka kesää palvotaan. Yksi tärkeimmistä on, ettei pitäisi koskaan aloittaa sotimaan erityisesti kesällä.

Jotkut ovat sitä mieltä, että jatkosodan alkaminen kesällä 1941 oli huono enne maallemme. Vaikka armeijamme taisteli alussa menestyksellä entistä Neuvostoliittoa vastaan, sodan seuraukset vaikuttivat monien sukupolvien suomalaisin. Menetykset, kuten Karjala, painavat yhä monien mieltä.

Suomen kesä.

Olisiko asiat sodan jälkeen Suomessa olleet eritavalla jos jatkosota olisi alkanut syksyllä tai talvella?

Kauan sitten, kun olin 13-vuotias, minulla oli tapana kulkea polkupyörän ja kartan avulla Savon syvissä metsissä, kun vietin kesä-aika isovanhempien kesämokilla lähellä Mikkeliä. Yhtenä erityisenä iltapäivänä päädyin hylätyn ja ujon polun eteen. Päätin kokeilla minne se veisi.

Päädyn vähän ajan kuluttua harmaan maalaistalon pihaan ja aikuinen nainen tuli. Pyysin neuvoa. Halusin tietää pääsisikö polkua kulkemalla päätielle. Hän suositteli kääntymään takaisin, sillä polku oli huonossa kunnossa.

En ymmärtänyt aluksi miksi tunsin niin paljon läheisyyttä tätä ihmistä kohtaan. Vasta monien vuosien jälkeen tämä asia tuli selville. Sinä päivänä kun tapasimme puhuimme joutavia asioita, mutta sydämemme ja sielumme olivat tietämättään täydessä keskustelussa.

Vaikkemme vielä tienneet, olimme kaksi ihmistä, jotka olivat menettäneet kotinsa. Eeva oli evakko ja minä siirtolaisen lapsi.

Olen tavannut monia ystävällisiä ihmisiä Savon metsissä, mutta matka tämän lempeän naisen mökille opetti minulle, ettei saa koskaan menettää rohkeuttaan kävellä vähän kuljettuja polkuja pitkin.

Sellaisia polun päästä voit joskus löytää todellisen aarteen, kuten ikuisen ystävän tai vaikkapa hetkellistä onnea.

Siksi aina kun voin, yritän kulkea ujoja polkuja, missä kesän taika saattaa piileskellä hetkeksi.

One of the reasons why the Finnish government hasn’t shown any interest in rejoining Karelia with Finland is because of its large Russian-speaking population. The other factor is fear that Karelia could in the future cause a new war with Russia.

The last matter that some government officials want for Finland is to turn the country into an Estonia, Latvia or Lithuania, where there are large Russian populations that pose a cultural challenge to such countries.

Karelia, which had a Finnish population of about 420,000 and had been inhabited by Finns for centuries, is a case in point for Europe. Too many of the conflicts that have occurred in this continent, like World War II and recently the civil war in the former Yugoslavia, are ethnic in nature.

The most extreme modern manifestation of ethnic suspicion and hatred in Europe was by Nazi Germany. It could send millions of Jews and other religious, political and ethnic groups to gas chambers on the pretext that such outlandish deeds were necessary to conserve the purity of the German “race” and help it to realize its full potential.

The first matter that Stalin’s Russia did when it snatched Karelia from Finland in 1944 was to populated it with Russians, Ukrainians and other Soviet nationalities after 420,000 Karelians left their homes and moved as refugees to Finland.

It was the same method that the former British Empire used to ensure that territory seized or colonized by it remained British.

Fortunately there are different winds blowing in Europe today. European Union countries are embracing, albeit at different speeds, a policy of multiculturalism where ethnic, national and cultural minorities must be protected and encouraged.

If you think of it, the advance of multiculturalism in Europe may be the continent’s best insurance against future wars. It may even help resolve in the future sticky geopolitical issues like Karelia.

A map of southern Finland printed in 1908 by the Suomen Matkailijayhdistys..

What do cities and towns like Viirpuri, Käkisalmi, Hiitola, Kivennapa, Sortavala and Terijoki have in common? They were all once a part of Finland, before the Karelian Isthmus was ceded to the former Soviet Union after the end of what Finnish historians call the Continuation War (1941-44).

Even though my knowledge of Finnish geography was pretty rudimentary in the 1960s, when I was growing up in Los Angeles, the name Karelia had a special ring to it. It sounded like a mysterious land that wasn’t on any modern maps but was out there refusing to accept what it has become.

People like my grandfather, who fought in the Winter and Continuation War, never forgot the names of those former Finnish cities that once dotted the Karelian Isthmus. The hope of visiting those places one day expressed themselves in lachrymose songs and tales such as Karjalan Kunnaillan.

Even in the Jaeger March (Jääkärinmarssi) there is special mention of that part of Finland: …Häme, Karelia, land and beaches of Viena… Viena is the northern half of ceded Karelia.

My grandfather was originally from the eastern Finnish town of Savonlinna, which is about 65 miles from the shores of Lake Ladoga. He lived for a short while as a young man in Viipuri, one of Finland’s most important cities at the time.

Those that were forced to witness war and were quickly humbled by its brutality rarely gave details about those gruesome times. The war, the loss of Karelia and near-interminable suffering always followed them as ghosts, even if hostilities had ended decades ago.

There was something unique about the tales and songs they sang about from those times. Now I understand that they were purposely inconclusive so that new generations could give the stories and songs a better ending. They did this in order not to smother hope.

What did they hope for? They secretly wished with all their hearts and mights that one day Karelia would be rejoined.

I asked a Finnish writer called Eeva Kilpi in the late-1980s what should the government’s stance be on Karelia. Of all the proposals I’ve heard throughout the years, Kilpi’s was the most sensible. She proposed turning the Karelian Isthmus into a (bi)national park administrated by Finland and Russia.

Taking into account Finland’s careful official foreign policy line that continues to this date despite the demise of the Soviet Union, it’s doubtful that the present or any near-future government will throw a lifesaver to the region.

Karelia will unfortunately continue to decay from lack of Finnish attention. But that is now — tomorrow may be a totally different story.

See Part II posted June 28.

Prior to Finland’s entry into European Union in 1995, there was little written in the English-language media about the Nordic country. Apart from news agencies like Reuters and the Associated Press, a handful like the Financial Times wrote regularly about Finland as well. When I wrote for the FT in the late 1980s and early 1990s, I’d file on average two stories per week on the country.

Undoubtedly the Soviet angle was was one of the most intriguing aspects of being a foreign correspondent in Helsinki. The first front-page story I ever wrote was published in 1985. It was a story about Soviet authorities asking Finnish customs officials to keep secret the price of natural gas that Finland imported from the USSR.

If you wrote critical stories on a regular basis about Finnish-Soviet relations, you were placed under close scrutiny by Soviet Embassy and even Finnish Foreign Ministry officials. I was told by one Finnish diplomat based in Madrid in the mid-1980’s that I would be blacklisted if I didn’t stop writing stories that ran against to “the official” foreign policy line.

The diplomat was annoyed by a story I had written in Cambio 16, one of Spain’s largest newsmagazines, on the contraband of Bibles from Finland to the Soviet Union.

Writing lame stories about Finland during the Cold War-era meant not writing about human rights issues, refugee from the USSR nor questioning sensitive geopolitical agreements like the treaty of Friendship, Cooperation and Mutual Understanding (FCMA).

How much censorship or self-censorship existed in Finland before the demise of the Soviet Union in the early 1990s? Part of the answer can be found in the editorials of the country’s major newspapers.

Were such editorials ever outspoken about Finnish-Soviet relations? Did they openly question the government’s foreign policy stance with the former USSR? What did Helsingin Sanomat, Finland’s leading daily, write the next day after Soviet troops marched into Czechoslovakia in 1968? Why didn’t the Finnish press ever question why the country granted only once political asylum to a Soviet citizen?

We cannot change the past but we can understand it well enough so we’ll never fall pray to the trap of censorship and self-censorship.