The Russian warplane comes in fast, its belly almost brushing the treetops to avoid detection. Passing over an open field, the pilot spots a young soldier and swerves toward him. As bullets whiz past, the soldier runs behind a barn. The pilot banks and tries again, and again, and again, but the soldier finds shelter first on one side of the barn and then the other with each pass. Finally, the pilot tires of the game and flies off, leaving the soldier thankful to be alive.
This isn’t Ukraine 2022. The chase took place in June 1944 in Karelia, an area of thick forests, clear lakes, and gentle hills that belonged to Finland until Soviet troops overran it in 1940, sparking a half-decade of fighting before the territory ultimately ended up under control of the USSR. And the soldier was Antero Pohjanpalo, my grandfather.
The tale, recounted in his diary from the war, is typical of the stories that Finns have told for generations at Sunday dinners, holiday gatherings, and wreath-laying ceremonies on Independence Day. They shed tears for the fathers, brothers, and uncles who never came home from battle, and they remember the 450,000 refugees forced from lands ceded to the Soviets and settled across Finland. It’s a small country. Everyone knows someone who was affected.
These stories provide the key to understanding why Finns are suddenly so eager to join NATO.
When anyone asks what it’s been like to share an 800-mile border with the Soviet Union first and an increasingly belligerent Russia now, Finns joke ruefully that it’s much better to live with the border than to live without it.
Over the centuries, Finns engaged in countless conflicts with invaders from the east, who killed their forefathers, plundered their towns, and torched their homes and farms. The centuries of bloodshed and a realization that geography is destiny have made Finland’s citizens pragmatic realists who aren’t afraid to change their minds when facts change. That’s what happened with membership in the North Atlantic Treaty Organization. Just six months ago, only 20% of the population supported joining, as most people were comfortable with a formula that had been in place for decades. Since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, support for NATO membership has jumped to almost 80%.
So why didn’t Finland sign up earlier?
When the Soviet Union was across the border, it would’ve been unthinkable. Even joining the European Union or its predecessors was out of the question until the USSR collapsed. In 1995, Finland did enter the EU. But the leadership decided that joining NATO would have been perceived as antagonistic rather than a deterrent, sparking a backlash that at a minimum would’ve hurt trade relations—and risked far more serious consequences.
This year’s U-turn in opinion is a direct result of the Kremlin showing it’s capable of attacking a neighbor that poses no threat. If the Russians don’t need a reason to invade, the thinking goes, Finland shouldn’t worry about potentially giving them one. An extra level of protection—deterrence—is needed. Plus, with trade at a virtual standstill, there’s no more relationship, nothing to lose.
Finland isn’t looking for foreigners to fight its battles. Polls over the past few decades have consistently shown 8 in 10 Finns are ready to pick up a gun to defend their country if needed. We already have one of Europe’s most formidable armies, equipped with 800 field guns—more than France and Germany combined—and as many battle tanks as the biggest European NATO members. In a country of 5.5 million, 900,000 people have had combat training, and Finland can quickly mobilize almost a third of them for wartime service.
So what does Finland want NATO for?
The country never again wants to be left alone fighting an enemy 25 times its size. Finns want Russia to understand that crossing the border would lead to the infliction of such heavy damage that there’s no possible payoff. They want to fully share intelligence. And they want to ensure the country isn’t left without weapons or forced to beg for them, as Ukraine President Volodymyr Zelenskiy has had to do, spending the last few months in a seemingly endless round of video meetings with governments worldwide, pleading for assistance.
Finland isn't alone in seeking closer security cooperation. In the wake of the Russian invasion of Ukraine, Sweden is also seeking NATO entry, and Danes on Wednesday voted to join the EU's defense pact.
NATO membership would be the culmination of a century-long Finnish effort to be considered a full partner of the Western world. After being ruled by Sweden since the Middle Ages, Finland spent 108 years as an autonomous Grand Duchy of the Russian Empire. The first step away from Russia’s sphere of influence came with independence in 1917, recognized by Vladimir Lenin after the Bolshevik Revolution.
A generation later, Finland defended that independence in what’s called the Winter and Continuation Wars of 1939-1944. The outnumbered Finns repelled a Soviet invasion in 105 days of fierce fighting but eventually agreed to a painful peace that required ceding about 10% of their territory. Looking to regain the lost land, Finland in 1941 entered an uneasy alliance with Germany—though few citizens embraced Nazi ideology. The country eventually broke with Berlin, ejecting the Germans in what’s known as the Lapland War.
Under a later peace deal with the Soviets, the Finns had to pay war reparations equivalent to about 4% of gross domestic product for eight years. Then as the Cold War grew ever frostier, Finland tiptoed through an era of forced neutrality that critics in the West belittled as “Finlandization”—a fragile independence requiring self-censorship and deference to Moscow.
In 1944, Prime Minister Juho Kusti Paasikivi famously laid the foundations for that policy by insisting that “the start of all wisdom lies in acknowledging the facts.” For the architects of Finland’s external relations, he said, there’s no denying the fact of a powerful eastern neighbor. “It’s our real foreign policy dilemma, and the future of our people depends on resolving it,” Paasikivi told the nation at the time.
EU membership allowed Finns to shake off some of Moscow’s shackles, but the ghost of Finlandization lingered. Until this year, Finnish policymakers almost never identified Russia—at least publicly—as the primary military threat. But on May 15, Prime Minister Sanna Marin sought to explain why it was time to embrace NATO. “We cannot trust any more that there will be a peaceful future next to Russia on our own,” she told members of the global press gathered in a gilded ballroom at the 19th century presidential palace—built as a residence for the czar during his visits to Helsinki. Applying for NATO membership “is an act of peace.”
When Parliament took up the issue two days later, just eight of the 200 lawmakers voted no, mostly arguing nonalignment continues to be the best way to avoid a large-scale conflict. “It is only by remaining outside of military alliances that Finland has a chance of not being pulled into action should a great war break out,” Markus Mustajarvi, a member of the Left Alliance, told his colleagues as he proposed a motion against membership.
Far more common was the sentiment that Finland had been too slow in signing up. In 2007 former President Martti Ahtisaari said putting off an application until a crisis such as the one Finland faces today was akin to “taking out fire insurance when the embers are already smoldering under the corner of the house.”
The goal, after all, isn’t to get someone to fight Finland’s wars, or even to fight one alone as previous generations did. Above all else, Finland wants to stop the next war from happening. For growing numbers of Finns, NATO offers the best chance of ensuring that outcome.
©2022 Bloomberg L.P.
