Martti Ahtisaari's 2nd Visit

Heading to this meeting sorta feels like trying to move down to better seats in a baseball game, or a the theatre. As you see the empty seats ahead of you, you wonder “Is anyone is really going to sit there, maybe they’ll be empty, it would be a shame for them to go to waste”. I did this quite often while watching shows in London, sometimes an entire row would be held for people who never showed up, and no one benefits from them staying empty. However in those circumstances at least you have “a seat” to go back to, unlike today where I’m basically hoping for something to be available.

I head into the room early, it’s the biggest one here. The meeting includes not only NATO countries, but all the KFOR contributors, so there are a dozen extra delegations with their ambassadors and staff. My division has 2 seats assigned for it, behind the Chairman in the 2nd row, with little tags that say PASP on them. It’s a popular meeting and so its guaranteed that at least 2 of my colleagues will show up. There are dozens of other divisions at NATO, each with their own acronym name. Even “Operations” which is one word and doesn’t require an acronym, is OPS. I’m betting on some of them not being interested in attending.

The Sec-Gen and President Ahtisaari finally arrive with their entourage and people assume their seats, to my surprise every single one is full, but in the corner there is a chair at a desk with a few computers and other equipment. Its probably for a note-taker or someone who is in charge of running a power-point presentation. It doesn’t matter, its empty, so I take a seat.

Ahtisaari is the special envoy from the UN to develop a settlement agreement for Kosovo, which has been an international protectorate since 1999. As the former President of Finland he also has a distinguished diplomatic history of resolving the dispute between Indonesia and Aceh rebels, and brokering peace in the former Yugoslavia. He’s also been tipped numerous times as a potential recipient for the Nobel Peace Prize. On top of this, he’s got an odd, dry, Nordic sense of humour. Ahtisaari’s last briefing was one of the very first meetings I attended when I came to NATO, and his presence led me to think that all meetings here would be deeply engaging. Unfortunately it hasn’t always been the case.

The meeting itself isn’t very groundbreaking, all the NATO Allies are more-or-less unified in their position, with only a few stragglers talking about delays. Earlier in the week the new Serbian ambassador, whose country only recently joined the EAPC (Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council), provided a much more lively discussion on the issue. The issue is sensitive, but if handled well another war is certainly easily avoidable. I am lucky to be dealing with the Balkans at such an interesting time, but from the corner of the room I feel on the periphery of the issue, both figuratively and literally.

"Sympathetic Detonation"

Euphemisms are wonderful things. They show how powerfully different words can represent the same thing yet create different impressions. Among the organizations that are creating a steady flow of new euphemisms, the military creates the most amusing examples. 100 years ago many governments had a war ministry and a war minister. Nowadays they have defence ministries and defence ministers. In a famous example of doublespeak Orwell's 1984 predicts a future where we have peace ministries and peace ministers.

"Pacification" for the eradication of enemies, "sweep and clear" for search and destroy, and "collateral damage" for blowing the hell out of things, are all well established.

Today I learned "sypmathetic detonation" The briefing was about Afghanistan and prospects of beginning PfP trust fund projects to the region. The PfP (partnership for peace) trust fund is an international fund that NATO countries pay into, mostly for disarmament projects, like destroying the huge stockpiles of cold-war weapons in the former Soviet Union. The Soviet experience in Afghanistan certainly left a legacy that lives to this day, among that is literally thousands of tons of all sorts of ammunition. In a strange twist though, the war in Afghanistan requires NATO countries to bring thousands of more tons of ammo into the country every day...
A lof of ammo in Afghanistan isn't guarded, in fact a lot of it isn't even housed. It sits outside just waiting to be stolen or rendered useless by extreme heat. Some projects in the country are trying to establish groundbreaking security measures like "lights to see people" and "fences that cover the entire perimeter", and then the extras like motion sensors, security cameras, better locks, etc. For now a lot of ammo is housed in poorly constructed Soviet bunkers, which were built from poured concrete but lack steel reinforcement, and some of them are collapsing. Furthermore, the bunkers are not designed with safety measures against "sympathetic detonation".

Ever look closely at a champagne bottle? Well if you do, you might notice that the bottom of the champagne bottle has thinner glass than the rest of the bottle. Champagne's carbonation process puts a lot pressure on the bottle, and during fermentation its not unusual for a cork to blow out, or for a bottle to explode. In the early days, if a champagne bottle exploded the force might make its neighbour bottles explode, causing a chain recation costing an entire cellar of champagne. A champagne bottle is designed to withstand 5 atmospheres of pressure, except the bottom which is weaker. If the bottle does explode, the pressure is naturally directed to the weakest point of the bottle and bottom blows out sending the champagned harmlessly into the middle of the hall.

These Soviet Bunkers, are so tightly packed and lacking in design features, that if some ammunition went off, there would be a serious risk of "sympathetic detonation". The expression makes one imagine about shells seeing one of their fellow shells blowing up, and then deciding to blow up in "sympathy". Or you could just imagine thousands of tons of ammo blowing up all at once to make a fucking goddamn big explosion.

"Sir what kind of consequence could there be from such an event?"
"At worst? The National Afghan Army could find itself short of ammunition during a critical offensive, and the explosion could destroy as much as 10% of the capital"

I would describe that as a very un-sympathetic explosion.

"Time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life"

Panic strikes as I realize that there is no way I should be able to wake myself up. Its impossible, I only gave myself 2 hours to sleep, there’s no way I’ve slept less than that on my own volition. I tap a key on my laptop to see what time it is, only to discover that its battery is dead. Fuck! The laptop is dead, hence the alarm I set on the laptop never went off. I run to the kitchen to find the time on the oven, its noon. Double fuck!! Well lets see, flight is at 4.30, wanna arrive about 90 min beforehand so that’s 3pm, takes about an hour on the Piccadilly line so get there at 2pm, need to get to Earls Court by taking 2 tube lines or else risk getting lost on the bus, so lets say I gotta be showered, packed, and cleaned up this place in about 90 min….triple fuck…

Normally I don’t use my laptop as an alarm clock, I use my phone. Unfortunately it died about 2 hours after I landed at Heathrow. Luckily it still had enough juice to tell Tatevik that the Starbucks where we agreed to meet is closed, and that she can find me at a pub just down the road. She shows up late but with a healthy buzz and helps me take my bags to my cousin’s flat where we drop em off. Tatevik’s friends are waiting for us at a bar in Leicester Square which instantly sets off alarm bells in my head. Nine times in ten, any place at Leicester Square is an overpriced tourist trap with a bad crowd and bad music. Trips to Zoo bar convinced me of least that much. Even so friends are friends and I don’t wanna be in between her and them, so I quickly shed the suit I’ve been in all day and we head down. The place is predictably godawful, the first warning is the bouncer who walks us straight to the door and tells the price to the girl at the desk (a tactic taken straight from zoo bar, speeds up the momentum so people who are just going to check it out feel pressured to decide yes/no and end up going in). The ceiling is low and the lighting is crap. The venue is small and lacks a proper sound system, some hi powered portable speakers are set up in corners and are cranked way too loud. The place is dense and the floors are so covered with spilled drinks they’ve become sticky. I wish I could remember the name of the place so that I could warn others, but its been forgotten. Frost, or frozen, or ice, or blizzard, or chilled, or something like that.

It’s a lazy weekend in the purest sense, most of the day spent sipping coffee, eating, and sleeping. Most of the night spent drinking and dancing (well I dunno if anything at the Islington Academy qualifies as dancing). The lack of a GSM was a constant annoyance, especially since I had hoped to catch-up with old London friends (sorry!). Even so I got to enjoy every hour I had with Tatevik before her flight back to Tallinn.

Tatevik’s flight was due to leave at 6.50 am on Sunday, from Stansted. It was an ungodly time, since Stansted is 75-90 minutes away. Stansted airport is also so spread out that even getting to your gate can take another 30 min. London airports seem always on high alert, and terror suspects were arrested only on Thursday. So Tatevik aims for being at the airport 2 hours before checkin. Around 4.50am. Assuming it takes all 90 minutes, that means leaving Victoria at 3.20 am. Assuming it takes about 30 min to get to Victoria on a night bus, leave the house at 2.50 am. Its such an early hour there isn’t any point to sleeping and so we stay up. Everything goes as planned until at Victoria station we discover that the terravision buses have decided to change their pickup point. The first two buses we could have made leave from the other side of the terminal, and the 3rd is sold out, and the 4th apparently as well. Thinking we are basically screwed I sprint to the National Express terminal and find a Stansted bus leaving in 3 min, I sprint back and haul up Tatevik’s heavy duffle and sprint back. I’m breathing like a walrus when we finally make it to the bus, and promptly drop on Tatevik’s knee and fall asleep, leaving a little drool spot on her jeans….

I arrive back at the flat at 8am and decide to give myself a 2 hour nap which should have left me enough time to have a coffee and muffin, leisurely clean and pack. Of course things didn’t quite turn out that way…