Russia, explained.
Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy has backed Donald Trump’s proposal for Ukraine and Russia to freeze the war at the current frontlines and, as Trump put it “negotiate something later on down the line” (Sergei Supinsky/AFP via Getty Images)
History is replete with rushed territorial divisions that have left lasting wounds – a warning for those ending the war.
Subscribe to The Informer for monthly expert analysis, and to Events for advance notice of visiting world leaders and distinguished guests.
You may unsubscribe from Lowy Institute newsletters at any time. For information on our privacy practices and how to unsubscribe, see our Privacy Policy.
The partition trap awaiting Ukraine’s territorial settlementThe partition trap awaiting Ukraine’s territorial settlement
Happy is the country that has no history. Surely, though, happier still is the country that has no borders.
Soon, after the combatants are exhausted enough to consider coming to terms, negotiators will need to settle durable borders for Ukraine. Volodymyr Zelenskyy has backed Donald Trump’s proposal for Ukraine and Russia to freeze the war at the current frontlines and, as Trump put it “negotiate something later on down the line”. That job will be relentlessly complex and utterly thankless. Any border will necessarily entail a partition. Unhappily, history is replete with examples of why and how partition does not work.
Britain, for instance, tried partition three times in the past century, in Ireland, India and Israel. In each case, the versions of sub-division selected not only produced bloodshed and rancour straight away but have left an enduring legacy of bitter geopolitical tension and friction.
Negotiators can learn most from what went wrong. On the errors side of the ledger, for example, in fixing borders they should beware of any resort to straight lines. Freezing a temporary status quo can quickly transform into a permanent hot boil. Ignorance of the terrain, paying heed to bogus plebiscites or relying on rivers can lead to trouble. So too must the talks beware of the overhang of age-old quarrels, the illusions of mediation, and under-estimating the perils of population exchanges.
Involving the United Nations, hobbled by limited enforcement capacities and Security Council vetoes, could create more problems than UN wordsmiths could solve.
Paul Cézanne, the painter, reckoned that nature abhorred a straight line. Unfortunately, map-makers have not. From the Mason-Dixon line (1767), which became synonymous with the separation of North and South in the American Civil War, to the Sykes-Picot accord (1916), which carved up the Middle East without the knowledge or consent of its inhabitants, the straightedge of a ruler has been too many border negotiators’ first but worst resort. No direct line can really take account of historical claims, ethnic groupings, commercial pathways or strategic necessity.
That is where deep, personal knowledge of the terrain becomes indispensable. W.H. Auden wrote a ruefully sardonic – and tragically accurate – poem about the partition of India by an ignorant, fretful novice. Had thought been given in advance to the prospect of ethnic cleansing, would the borders of Bosnia or Rwanda have been set differently?
Using parallels of latitude, precisely straight lines as they are, can also be a risky default setting. The 49th parallel border, between Canada and the United States, has become durably peaceful, even though that line defies the natural flow of goods, traditions, culture and people North-South more than East-West. Conversely, the 38th parallel, between the Koreas, remains one of the critical flashpoints in the world.
UN forces withdrawing from Pyongyang in 1952 (US National Archives and Records Administration via Picryl)
Crooked, twisted lines too can result in some weird anomalies. Look at Kaliningrad, a Russian enclave sandwiched between Poland and Lithuania. Consider Cavan, Donegal and Monaghan, three Irish counties lucky enough to be oddly excluded from Northern Ireland on the basis of the relative popularity of religious sects. Imagine the shape of possible boundaries of a homeland for the Kurds or the Basques.
As for freezing battlelines, that is a temporary expedient as the basis for a ceasefire, not a way to settle permanent boundaries. Countries with ephemeral advantages on the battlefront should study Israel’s decision to cede all its conquered strategic depth in the Sinai in return for an unprecedented peace with Egypt.
Turning to modalities, negotiators for Ukraine might be guided by two idiosyncratic bits of advice, one from a poet, the other a novelist. Robert Frost reminded any markers of borders that “good fences make good neighbours”. For his part, William Faulkner insisted that “the past is never dead. It’s not even past.” To summarise their counsel: expecting goodwill to subsume bad memories may be delusional; and historic enmities and entitlements are rarely submerged forever.
On technicalities, mediation may be unavoidable, even though the process entails giving something to everyone instead of curbing and punishing aggression. Can victims of invasions be expected to agree that half a loaf is better than no bread? Involving the United Nations, hobbled by limited enforcement capacities and Security Council vetoes, could create more problems than UN wordsmiths could solve. Relying on contrived and manipulated plebiscites in territories to be transferred is equally problematic; unhappy examples include Crimea recently and Austria in 1938.
Despite all those likely problems, any form of non-violent partition may be preferable to mass, forced population movements. Horrific examples are legion, whether they be Hindu and Muslim in South Asia, Greeks and Turks, the expulsions of Palestinians in 1948 and 1967, or treatment of the Rohingya.
Durability remains crucial. After serial invasions by Germany and Russia, one Polish leader grimly noted that his was “not a country on wheels”. No nation would wish for a history as tragic as Poland’s. Nonetheless, Ukraine might long to end up as stably and securely as Poland now has.
The most-pressing world events explained by Lowy Institute experts and global contributors, in your inbox, every Thursday.
You may unsubscribe from The Interpreter at any time. For information on our privacy practices and how to unsubscribe, see our Privacy Policy.
