We’re a little more than halfway through the Winter
Olympics as I write this. For as far back as I can remember, I’ve been a
complete junkie for the Games—the competition, the glamour, the drama of it
all. I could never get enough.
But this year, I haven’t watched a single minute.
Why?
Four years ago, while I was soaking in every
Olympic moment, Russian troops were massing along the borders of Ukraine and
Belarus. The signs of invasion were unmistakable. President Biden issued
warnings and declassified intelligence in an effort to alert the world.
Vladimir Putin denied everything.
On February 24, 2022, he launched a brutal invasion
of Ukraine.
No one gave Ukraine much of a chance. The consensus
was that Kyiv would fall within days—three at most. I knew almost nothing about
Ukraine beyond the fact that it appeared to be doomed. I felt sympathy,
certainly. But I assumed it would be over quickly, and life would move on.
Ukraine, however, never got the memo.
When offered evacuation by the United States,
President Volodymyr Zelenskyy reportedly replied, “I need ammunition, not a
ride.” It was a David-versus-Goliath moment that will live in history.
For the first year, the American people—and our
government—stood firmly behind Ukraine. But wars that drag on lose their
headline appeal. The daily updates blurred together. Attention spans shifted.
Then came the presidential election circus, and Ukraine slipped quietly out of
the spotlight.
Now, three years later, much of the world has moved
on.
Meanwhile, Ukraine has endured relentless
bombardment—attacks on power grids, heating systems, and civilian
infrastructure, especially during these past brutal winter months. Millions
live with rolling blackouts and freezing nights of below zero temperatures and
wind chills. Russia’s campaign is not merely territorial; it aims at erasing
identity, culture, and sovereignty. That would be a genocide larger than the holocaust.
And still, Ukraine fights on.
Ukraine is now home to the most battle-tested
military force in Europe. No other European nation has comparable recent combat
experience defending against Russia. If Ukraine were to fall, that hardened
force would not simply disappear. It would become part of Russia’s expanded war
machine—the tip of the spear for further aggression.
Imagine the consequences.
The European Union represents one of the three
largest economies on Earth, alongside the United States and China. A broader
European war would not remain “over there.” It would ripple across global
markets, supply chains, energy systems, and financial institutions. Refugee
flows would surge. Factories would go dark. Trade routes would fracture.
Southwest Virginia would feel it. So would every
other corner of this country.
Yet as I write this, much of the United States—and much of the world—is captivated by figure skating scores and downhill finishes. There’s nothing wrong with celebrating athletic excellence. I’ve loved it my whole life. But this year, my mind isn't able to process the horrors of war with the glitz and glamor of the games. It feels like a betrayal of my values and I refuse to be distracted from the hard realities that exist for Ukraine, Europe and the rest of us. So I choose to pass on the Olympics this year.
Autocrats count on fatigue. They count on short
memories. They count on the world’s attention drifting to something shinier.
Four years ago, many of us assumed Ukraine would collapse in days. It didn’t.
Today, assuming the threat has passed would be an equally serious mistake.
I’d genuinely like to hear your thoughts. Whether
you agree or disagree, civil discussion is the bedrock of democracy. I hope our
exchanges remain thoughtful, respectful, and productive.
If you try to comment and receive an error message,
your browser may be blocking third-party cookies. You can select “Anonymous” in
the “Comment as” field and simply include your name or initials if you prefer.
Thank you for reading—and for walking this road
with me.
