He is the most celebrated and closely watched leader in the world today – an improbable hero, a champion of democracy, in a time when democratic principles and institutions seem to be under attack everywhere.
Not only is he rallying his homeland against conquest or destruction at the hands of Vladimir Putin with his fantasy of a new Russian empire, he is setting an example for other democratic leaders whose countries are threatened by the proliferation of violent extremist groups and movements from within and without their borders.
He is, of course, Volodymyr Zelensky, the former actor/comedian who in 2019 was elected president of Ukraine on an anti-corruption platform. Holed up somewhere in besieged Kyiv, he has been waging an unprecedented campaign, a virtual tour of Western capitals to plead his case – by video – for more military and humanitarian support.
From London to Ottawa to Washington to Berlin, Zelensky has appeared on large screens before assembled lawmakers, making this pitch: thank you for the support you have been providing; Ukraine needs more; above all, we need measures to protect the people of Ukraine from death from the skies, from Russian warplanes and missiles; please send more weapons; and please let NATO create a no-fly zone to drive the Russians out of our airspace.
The man is brilliant. His appeals for help are carefully calibrated and professionally presented. Each performance – and performances, they are – is crafted specifically for the lawmakers and public of the nation he is addressing that day.
For his March 8 address to the British Parliament, he quoted Shakespeare, compared Ukraine’s struggle to the Battle of Britain, criticized NATO for not agreeing to close the skies, and he brought his message home by assuming the persona of Winston Churchill: “We shall fight in the seas, we shall fight in the air, we shall defend our land, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight in the woods, in the fields, on the beaches, in the cities and villages, in the streets, we shall fight in the hills. And I want to add: we shall fight … on the banks of the Kalmius and the Dnieper! And we shall not surrender!”
The audience at Westminster was gobsmacked.
For Ottawa on March 15, he went up-close and personal, addressing the prime minister as “Dear Justin.” He spoke of the deaths of Ukrainian children from Russian bombs and missiles. “Justin, can you imagine hearing – you, your children – hearing all these severe explosions? Bombing the Ottawa airport, tens of other cities in your wonderful country? … How can you explain to your children that a full-scale aggression just happened in your country? You know that this is a war to annihilate your state, your country. You know that this is the war to subjugate your people. … Can you imagine if the famous CN Tower in Toronto was hit by Russian bombs? Of course, I don’t wish this on anyone, but this is our reality in which we live.”
The next day in Washington, he reminded Congress of occasions when death had rained from American skies: “Remember Pearl Harbor. Terrible morning of December 7, 1941, when your sky was black from the planes attacking you. Just remember it. Remember September 11th, a terrible day in 2001 when evil tried to turn your cities, independent territories in battlefields. When innocent people were attacked from air, yes. Just like nobody else expected it, you could not stop it…. Russia has turned the Ukrainian sky into a source of death for thousands of people. Is this a lot to ask for, to create a no-fly zone over Ukraine to save people? Is this too much to ask?”
Zelensky adopted a different pose for the Bundestag in Berlin last Thursday. Friendliness and supplication gave way to disappointment and anger, as he cited Germany for blocking Ukraine from membership in NATO and for giving business relationships with Russia priority over the defence of Western values. He denounced Berlin’s decision to go ahead with the Russia-to-Germany Nord Stream 2 gas pipeline over the opposition of Ukraine and other allies:
“The world may not have seen so clearly yet, but you are separated from us by a kind of wall. “It’s not a Berlin Wall – it is a wall in central Europe between freedom and bondage and this wall is growing bigger with every bomb dropped on Ukraine.” He implored his host, Chancellor Olaf Scholz: “Dear Mr. Scholz, tear down this wall. Give Germany the leadership role that you in Germany deserve.”
Zelensky surely knew that, however compelling he made his argument, he would not persuade NATO governments to declare a no-fly zone. Not yet, anyway. The Biden administration will not commit American or NATO planes to the air defence of Ukraine or permit Poland to send Russian-built MIG-29 fighters to Ukraine lest Vladimir Putin turn a regional war into a global combat.
But who really knows how Putin’s mind works? And what, in the metrics of escalation, is the distinction between supplying warplanes and doing what the United States is already doing – arming Ukraine with thousands of state-of-the-art missiles for the same purpose of destroying Russian aircraft? The distinction remains elusive.
If changing the minds of government leaders was Zelensky’s first objective, a close second had to be building support for Ukraine among elected representatives and their voters – including support for direct military intervention, should it come to that. For the present, the allies are in a holding pattern – waiting to see if the invasion will fail so abjectly that (A) Putin gives up, (B) his enemies at home take him down, or (C) hesitant NATO members find themselves with no option but to try to take him down themselves.
By then, it could be too late. There might not be much of Zelensky’s beloved homeland left to save.
Cambridge resident Geoffrey Stevens is a former Ottawa columnist and managing editor of the Globe and Mail. He is the co-author of Flora! A Woman in a Man’s World. He welcomes comments at geoffstevens40@gmail.com