The power of narrative
That phrase ‘the pen is mightier than the sword’ is mostly horse-dung, right? Right now, the Ukrainian President, Volodymyr Zelensky, isn’t asking the west for pencils. He’s definitely asking for drones and anti-tank weapons.
And yet, and yet.
I can’t help noticing that events in the Ukraine right now are proving the invincible power of story.
Putin’s (crazed) story about the conflict is that Ukraine isn’t really a real country; its soul belongs to Mother Russia, and always has. Hence sending 190,000 heavily armoured troops into a neighbouring country isn’t really an invasion, it’s a liberation.
Pretty obviously, you can refute this nonsense with facts. (Ukrainian democracy is vastly more real than anything in Russia. Large majorities of even Russian-speaking Ukrainians wanted to maintain independence. And so on.)
But Putin’s view of the world never depended on facts in the first place. It was all about the emotional rewards his narrative offered: a return to past glories, the country’s suffering and courage during the ‘Great Patriotic War’, the long line of Russian power that expresses itself through Ivan the Terrible, Catherine the Great, and so on.
So, as well as a battle by air and ground, there’s also a battle of narratives.
On that score, and by a thousand Russian versts, the Ukrainian narrative is winning.
It turns out that Ukraine is a real country. Its soul does not belong to anyone else. The Ukrainian government is nobody’s puppet. It’s amply capable of managing its own affairs – and with remarkable courage and dignity. And so on.
But what’s really interesting, I think, to those of us who write fiction and any more creative flavour of non-fiction, is that the clinching elements of that Ukrainian narrative victory lie less in presidential addresses and more in the humble details. For example:
- The 13 Ukrainian soldiers who radioed, ‘Russian warship, go **** yourself’, even when faced with what must have seemed like certain death.
- A 60-something Ukrainian man who picked up a landmine with his bare hands and moved it to somewhere safe … a lit cigarette hanging from his lips all the while.
- Unarmed civilians standing in front of a Russian tank telling the soldiers to go back to their own country.
- In a virtually empty railway train running from Lviv, near the Polish border, to Kyiv itself, a journalist is told off for putting his feet on the seat opposite. Standards are standards, even in times of war.
And not just details, but the grimmest of jokes, or defiance laced with black humour
- President Zelensky, asked if he wanted American help to escape, responded, ‘The fight is here. I need ammunition, not a ride.’
- A Ukrainian grandmother approached a Russian soldier to ask him to put her sunflower seeds in his pocket, so ‘there will be flowers there when you die.’
- When that same soldier asked the old lady not to ‘escalate’ the situation, she responded, ‘How can I escalate it? You invaded my country.’
And the thing about these details is that they prove the Ukrainian narrative is the true one, and that Putin’s one is false. The military battle is not even half-fought. The ultimate outcome is not known. But already, we know that Putin’s entire narrative has been defeated utterly – by grandmothers with sunflower seeds and 13 soldiers swearing at a Russian warship.
Indeed, one of the ironies here is how completely Putin managed to defeat himself. Perhaps, before this most recent invasion, there was some doubt about where the loyalties of Russian-speaking Ukrainians might lie. But not any more. Putin’s attempt to advance his narrative with tanks and howitzers has ended up destroying it. The Ukraine is now, in some ways, more independent, more essential, than it has ever been before.
I’ve said often enough in these emails that details matter, that sense of place matters, that little character observation is crucial. I’ve said so in the past because I thought, “that’s what you need to write a good book.” And OK, that’s true. But it turns out the power of those details is vastly greater than I realised. The power of those details is enough to win a war and consolidate a country’s sense of nationhood. They’ve been enough to secure the most important victory of all, the victory of narrative.
That’s why we’re not dumb for caring about those things. That’s why stories matter.
Slava Ukraini!
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And here are my favourite memes so far:
Thanks for this, Harry, I found it really heartening in the midst of so much despair. My favourite poignant moment of narrative this week has been the Ukranian women helping the captured Russian soldier by phoning his mum and reassuring her that he is ok and they will look after him. As you say, Ukraine has already won this war by a mile on so many levels.
Well writ Harry
Thank you for this Harry. My wife is Ukrainian, my children half Ukrainian. They will remember these weeks for the rest of their lives and thanks to this global narrative they can forever be proud of their heritage and their people.
I am writing this in the BA lounge at Terminal 5, on my way to pick up my sister in law who is currently fleeing Kyiv, pursued by some number of Russian soldiers and missiles – they flattened our residential suburb of Kyiv just hours after she left.
I am absolutely astonished by the power this narrative has had, and by the fighting spirit – and remarkable good humour – that the people of Ukraine have shown.
Whilst it also achieved far greater things, one result is my first contribution after subscribing to your excellent service for over a year 🙂
My fervent hope is that the humanity individual Ukrainians have shown to the many Russian soldiers who never wanted to be at war, will ensure that the next part of this narrative builds not anger and hatred, but empathy and understanding.
Excellent blog Harry. Thank you.
Re the power of the detail, Harry, I spent some time in Ukraine in 1996 and one thing my simultaneous translators taught me very quickly, (both professors of English at the university of Kiev) was that ‘Ukraine’ was called ‘the Ukraine’ when it was part of the Soviet Union. Once it became independent, it lost the need for a definite article and became truly standalone.
Beautifully expressed, Harry. I am in awe. As usual.
Well said. Slava Ukraini indeed.
It is so true how powerful the narrative can be. Just been reading stories of how people in Ukraine are not believed by relatives in Russia who have been fed the Putin alternative reality on their tv news. I am always fascinated by people and how suggestible we are. However rational we think we are and how objective we think we are, we are so often influenced by whatever narrative we have been fed. Even in small matters we tend to side with the person who gives the best story of their point of view or sometimes even the first one to get to us as then the alternative point is listened to in a more biased way. All food for thought. I hope we can all keep our eyes open to the truth and keep on telling the stories that matter. Slava Ukraini.
What a truly beautiful blog and way of putting this war into perspective. What a powerful narrative that has really touched me. Thank you for your talented words.
The best comment I can possibly make in response to these wise words, and in the light of the heartbreak of what’s currently happening, is ‘Slava Ukraini’. May the forces of good please, please triumph in the end, for once… and may those driven by malice, stupidity and cruelty reap the reward they deserve. Because that’s how the best narratives should always end.