February 27, 2022. Three days into the war in Ukraine.
From my home in Espoo, I am mere hours from Russia, a border that has stayed quiet for eighty years.
I can scarcely believe that full-scale war has returned to the continent.
It threatens to strain an already frayed world order.
I send a text to Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov.
“Please, please stop this madness. You are the only one who can stop him.”
Lavrov replies within a minute: “Whom? Zelenskyy? Biden?”
I’ve heard this line of defense from Lavrov before.
This time it cannot stand. “No. You know what I mean,”
I reply. “It’s gone too far. History is on your shoulders.”
His next text parrots the usual Russian propaganda:
claims of Russian culture bans and Russians murdered in Ukraine.
I know Lavrov, and I know he’s smart enough to understand what’s going on.
I try again. “There is no point in the blame game. This is about life and death. We need to stop this.”
No dice. Lavrov continues with the same tropes.
I quit after the sixth fruitless message.
I feel angry and disappointed.
More than that, I feel the tectonic plates of history shifting.
フィンランドの人口 550 万人
ロシアの人口 1 億 4 千万人
日本の人口 1 億 2 千万人 衆議院選挙議員数 465人 → 1 人あたり約 26,000 人（対総人口比率=0.0038%）
東京都の人口 1 千 4 百万人
大阪府の人口 880 万人
茨城県の人口 280 万人
つくば市の人口 26 万人
観音台第二自治会の世帯数 112 戸 役員数 3人 → 1 人あたり約 37戸（対総人口比率=3/(112*3)=0.09%）
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Alexander Stubb
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