The Finnish Gymnich was held in Lappeenranta in Karelia, close to the Russian border. The Presidency has made relations with Russia one of its priorities, and arranging the informal Foreign Ministers' in this ancient fortress town testified to that ambition. Alongside Iran and the Middle-East, Russia was the third area of debate which had been pencilled in for free discussion over a day and a half. Clearly, history and geography both bolster the Finns claim to having a special insight into the nature of Europe's giant and often inscrutable neighbour. The fortress of Lappeenranta fell to the Russians in 1741 after the Swedish defeat at the battle of Willmanstrand (its Swedish name). The reader will forgive me if I digress on the context and background to that defeat, as it throws up a number of fascinating historical points.
The battle was the most decisive event in the course of the so-called "hattarnas krig" - the war of the hat party. The hat party, as opposed to the bonnet party (mössarna), was intent on war with Russia in order to win back territory lost at the treaty of Nystad of 1721. The treaty of Nystad concluded the long period of hostilities between Sweden and Russia initiated by the Swedish "warrior-king", Charles XII. Under that treaty, the Baltic ceased to be a Swedish inland sea. Russia became the area's major power. Sweden, under considerable pressure, was forced to make huge concessions, ceding Ingermanland (the country around the eastern end of the Gulf of Finland), Estonia, and Latvia. It succeeded, however, in retaining Finland, apart from Vyborg and part of Karelia. Twenty years later, the hats were again busy nurturing fantasies of great power status, cultivating an almost mystical belief in the invincibility of the Swedish soldier. War was declared in July 1741, in the expectation of a speedy reconquest of the lost provinces. The result, however, was the very opposite. Inadequate supplies, disease, desertion and poor military planning brought defeat at Willmanstrand in August. The following year, the entire Swedish army, shut up in Helsinki, was forced to capitulate. Under the Treaty of Abo (Turku in Finnish)1743, the Swedes lost further territory in the east of Finland.
What conclusions can we draw from this sorry tale? First of all, the all too depressingly obvious one, that militaristic adventurism is the very antithesis of sound political management - the modern parallells stare us screamingly in the face! Then there's the fact of just how difficult it is not to gasp in disbelief at Sweden "having a go" at Russia! In a modern geopolitical context the notion seems utterly absurd. And thirdly, one cannot help wondering: "what happened to the Finns?" It was Finland that was being fought on and over, yet the Finns are conspicuous by their total absence from the visible spectrum of this bellicose panorama.
And the meeting? I don't think I'm in breach of the official secrets act when I say that the most fascinating aspect of the meeting was the décor of the room. The plain white walls had been hung with a magnificent collection of the works of Ilya Repin, on loan from the Russian State Museum in St. Petersburg. I could vaguely remember having seen his famous "Volga Boatmen" during an earlier stay in St. Petersburg, but this was different. An exhibition devoted exclusively to a single body of work, with some fifty different examples of his production, from small drawings to life-size canvasses, gives a much deeper and broader impression of the sensibility of the artist. There is something of Rembrandt about him in his ability to reveal an inner soulfulness in his portraits, a quality which speaks of a deep compassion, a profound sense of solidarity with his fellow-man. Allied to that is an extraordinary lightness of touch and a breathtakng technical dexterity, but above all else an unrelenting power of observation, a sustained focus of attention of which few are capable. I was struck by a portrait of a student studying a book. Repin had somehow captured the unaffected seriousnes of this act of study in a way which momentarily evoked in me a sense of shame at my own habitual flippancy. There was a very fine portrait of Repin's friend, Rimsky-Korsakov. Above all, there was the incredibly poignant full-length portrait of Tsar Nicholas II, gazing down on proceedings throughout the meeting - living, or rather dead, proof of the fact that political decisions have their consequences. Andy and I were particularly taken by a small pencil drawing of a young peasant bride in traditional costume - a beautiful face, but with a certain movement of the eyebrow suggesting an interrogation, a reticence, a reluctance. It was exquisite.
Repin takes on a special interest in a Finnish context as a result of an accident of borders. Repin designed his own home "Penaty" just to the north of St. Petersburg. After the 1917 revolution Penaty was incorporated into Finland. He was invited by Lenin to come back to Russia but refused the invitation giving the excuse that he was too old to make the journey. With the exception of a portrait of Provisional Government head, Alexander Kerensky, he never painted anything substantial on the subjectof the 1917 revolutions or the Soviet experiment that followed. In 1930 he died in Kuokkala, Finland (now Repino, St. Petersburg Oblast).
As for the press conference, no secrets of state - we agreed that there is a possible "window of opportunity" with a new, post-Lebanon European role in the Middle East; we should try and keep talking to the Iranians without letting them off the hook; and we should continue to keep a close eye on developments in Russia - particularly the museums and art galleries, presumably!
The battle was the most decisive event in the course of the so-called "hattarnas krig" - the war of the hat party. The hat party, as opposed to the bonnet party (mössarna), was intent on war with Russia in order to win back territory lost at the treaty of Nystad of 1721. The treaty of Nystad concluded the long period of hostilities between Sweden and Russia initiated by the Swedish "warrior-king", Charles XII. Under that treaty, the Baltic ceased to be a Swedish inland sea. Russia became the area's major power. Sweden, under considerable pressure, was forced to make huge concessions, ceding Ingermanland (the country around the eastern end of the Gulf of Finland), Estonia, and Latvia. It succeeded, however, in retaining Finland, apart from Vyborg and part of Karelia. Twenty years later, the hats were again busy nurturing fantasies of great power status, cultivating an almost mystical belief in the invincibility of the Swedish soldier. War was declared in July 1741, in the expectation of a speedy reconquest of the lost provinces. The result, however, was the very opposite. Inadequate supplies, disease, desertion and poor military planning brought defeat at Willmanstrand in August. The following year, the entire Swedish army, shut up in Helsinki, was forced to capitulate. Under the Treaty of Abo (Turku in Finnish)1743, the Swedes lost further territory in the east of Finland.
What conclusions can we draw from this sorry tale? First of all, the all too depressingly obvious one, that militaristic adventurism is the very antithesis of sound political management - the modern parallells stare us screamingly in the face! Then there's the fact of just how difficult it is not to gasp in disbelief at Sweden "having a go" at Russia! In a modern geopolitical context the notion seems utterly absurd. And thirdly, one cannot help wondering: "what happened to the Finns?" It was Finland that was being fought on and over, yet the Finns are conspicuous by their total absence from the visible spectrum of this bellicose panorama.
And the meeting? I don't think I'm in breach of the official secrets act when I say that the most fascinating aspect of the meeting was the décor of the room. The plain white walls had been hung with a magnificent collection of the works of Ilya Repin, on loan from the Russian State Museum in St. Petersburg. I could vaguely remember having seen his famous "Volga Boatmen" during an earlier stay in St. Petersburg, but this was different. An exhibition devoted exclusively to a single body of work, with some fifty different examples of his production, from small drawings to life-size canvasses, gives a much deeper and broader impression of the sensibility of the artist. There is something of Rembrandt about him in his ability to reveal an inner soulfulness in his portraits, a quality which speaks of a deep compassion, a profound sense of solidarity with his fellow-man. Allied to that is an extraordinary lightness of touch and a breathtakng technical dexterity, but above all else an unrelenting power of observation, a sustained focus of attention of which few are capable. I was struck by a portrait of a student studying a book. Repin had somehow captured the unaffected seriousnes of this act of study in a way which momentarily evoked in me a sense of shame at my own habitual flippancy. There was a very fine portrait of Repin's friend, Rimsky-Korsakov. Above all, there was the incredibly poignant full-length portrait of Tsar Nicholas II, gazing down on proceedings throughout the meeting - living, or rather dead, proof of the fact that political decisions have their consequences. Andy and I were particularly taken by a small pencil drawing of a young peasant bride in traditional costume - a beautiful face, but with a certain movement of the eyebrow suggesting an interrogation, a reticence, a reluctance. It was exquisite.
Repin takes on a special interest in a Finnish context as a result of an accident of borders. Repin designed his own home "Penaty" just to the north of St. Petersburg. After the 1917 revolution Penaty was incorporated into Finland. He was invited by Lenin to come back to Russia but refused the invitation giving the excuse that he was too old to make the journey. With the exception of a portrait of Provisional Government head, Alexander Kerensky, he never painted anything substantial on the subjectof the 1917 revolutions or the Soviet experiment that followed. In 1930 he died in Kuokkala, Finland (now Repino, St. Petersburg Oblast).
As for the press conference, no secrets of state - we agreed that there is a possible "window of opportunity" with a new, post-Lebanon European role in the Middle East; we should try and keep talking to the Iranians without letting them off the hook; and we should continue to keep a close eye on developments in Russia - particularly the museums and art galleries, presumably!
posted by asbo at 10:52 AM
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