But it isn’t. The Ukrainian President is from the Russian speaking community. He is from a Jewish family. He is a firm supporter of Israel, a country which, according a 9 July 2018 report in the Israeli Haaretz newspaper, was arming groups ‘that espouse a neo-Nazi ideology’. One such group is the Azov militia ‘whose members are part of Ukraine’s armed forces and are supported by the country’s ministry of internal affairs’. The same newspaper on 19 February 2022 reported Azov had its own political party and paramilitary force ‘with ties to Western neo-Nazi groups’.
Around the same time as this report, the BBC reported that UK Foreign Secretary Liz Truss openly supported individuals who wished to join the international forces in Ukraine to fight Russian forces, claiming they would be fighting ‘not just for Ukraine but for the whole of Europe’.
The Ukrainian government has set up a website to recruit foreign fighters. Already there are reports of thousands of Westerners from places such as Australia, Scotland, Canada and the United States heeding the call. Some have seen war before, having served in the armed forces of their countries. Who knows what unresolved trauma they carry already? Others are idealistic young men and women keen to fight for what they see as a just cause — the defence of innocent civilians and a democratic nation. Still others may be heeding the call of groups like Azov.
I doubt most volunteers espouse neo-Nazi ideology. I also doubt many will be familiar with Ukrainian language, culture, history, religion and nationalism to tell the difference between various groups wearing the Ukrainian armed forces uniform. In the fog of war, nuance goes out the window. The Ukrainians are out-gunned and outnumbered by a much stronger Russian army and its own band of mercenaries and volunteers.
I grew up in the 1980s at the height of the Cold War, a time before many of today’s volunteers in Ukraine were even born. It was a time when the Russians (or rather, the Soviets) had invaded another small neighbour and were committing atrocities against civilians. The Soviet invasion and occupation of Afghanistan wasn’t only seen as a symptom of the nefarious spread of communism. It was also a human rights issue. Western athletes boycotted the Moscow Olympics. Western governments openly supported the Afghan Mujahideen and were happy to support, finance and even arm foreign fighters joining the various mujahideen factions (including the faction controlled by a devout Saudi named Usama bin Ladin) to fight the Soviet occupation.
The West and its allies from Muslim-majority countries were happy to allow their citizens to fight the Russians on that occasion. Some went not to fight but to provide aid. Some went as doctors and paramedics. Many stayed home but lobbied and raised funds to support the Afghan resistance. For me, as a young Australian kid who didn’t speak a word of Pushto or Dari or any other indigenous Afghan language, who had never set foot in the country but who shared a religious affiliation with the people of that nation, the call to arms was quite tempting.
Had I gone to Afghanistan to fight, I would not have been seen as a terrorist. In those days, jihad was not a dirty word. The mujahideen (a word literally meaning ‘those undertaking jihad’) were hailed as freedom fighters. In my young mind, the mujahideen were one united force. All Afghans were opposed to communism. The West was backing my team. What could possibly go wrong?
But as we know, much did go wrong. Twenty years later, the remnants of the Afghan mujahideen formed the Taliban. The forces loyal to Usama bin Ladin set up a base there. We all know what happened next. Had I gone to Afghanistan in any capacity shortly before 9/11, it’s possible I may have joined David Hicks and Mamdouh Habib in Guantanamo Bay prison.
Until the pandemic hit us in March 2020, the threat of terrorism dominated much of our domestic politics and foreign policy. Rafts of legislation have created a parallel criminal justice system to investigate, prosecute and punish those with even the most tenuous links to terrorist groups seeking to attract funds and support from Australians. Passports are cancelled. Citizenships are revoked.
This was the War on Terror, a war in which Russia was an ally. Western nations sat back and watched as Russia committed atrocities in cities like Grozny. The Chechens were regarded as terrorists. We weren’t surprised when the two young men who carried out the Boston Marathon bombing turned out to be Chechens.
Russia was also an ally in the war on ISIS. We watched as Russian forces joined forces with the Syrian regime and Iran to fight the brutal ISIS militia. Iranian forces also fought ISIS in Iraq, arguably in tandem with US and Australian forces. It was all very murky and confusing.
In a space of 40 years, Russia has been our enemy, then our friend and now is an enemy again. Russia is again attacking Ukraine. We are convinced the Ukrainian cause is just. But we also know that we face a domestic far-Right terrorism threat at home. What if young impressionable foreign fighters with little knowledge of Ukrainian history, politics and internal conflicts find themselves fighting with and influenced by anti-Semitic and Islamophobic neo-Nazi groups? What will these foreign fighters do when they bring these ideas (and the associated trauma of war) with them back to Western nations including Australia?
(Irfan Yusuf is a Sydney based lawyer and blogger. First published in Eureka Street on 12 April 2022)
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