Ukraine

Baroness Hayter of Kentish Town Excerpts

Friday 25th February 2022 Lords Chamber

[Baroness Hayter of Kentish Town (Lab)]

My Lords, like others, current events ricochet around my family life. My father fought in what he believed would be the war to end wars in Europe. He fought for peace, the rule of law and democracy, and against invasions. My sister was born on 4 March 1946—one day before the Fulton, Missouri speech when Churchill stressed the need for the US and Britain to act to guarantee that resulting peace and stability against the Soviet menace which had lowered an “iron curtain” across Europe.

I was born, like NATO, in 1949; in West Germany, where my father—still in the Army—worked to help resettle displaced persons, concentration camp survivors and those made homeless or stateless or relocated during the years of conflict. They were a reminder of the long post-conflict fallout for the people of disputed lands. In the case of Ukraine, many were never to return, as the noble Lord, Lord Finkelstein, movingly described in the Times. His family was from Lwow—known to his great-grandfather as Lemberg—which is of course Lviv; those name changes are testament to the conflicts in that great land. No wonder that, for our noble colleague, this is not happening in a faraway country of which he knows nothing. It is uncomfortably close to home.

Yesterday, I received this message from Vitaliy in Lviv, after attacks had already started in the capital:

“In Lviv everything is still scarily quiet. Shops are empty, but there are queues at ATMs and pharmacies. We’re just patiently waiting for an attack. I’m worried for the safety of friends and family. It’s horrible to realize how one pathetic man could force a war.”


His Kentish Town colleague, Aidan Muller, was in near disbelief that, in 2022 in Europe, his Ukrainian friend was heading down to air raid shelters.

Sadly, as the right reverend Prelate the Bishop of Leeds wrote yesterday:

“Ukrainians are no strangers to conflict or sacrifice. This is a land which saw millions killed under the jackboot of a dictator who, to echo Putin’s line, had no greater obligation than to ‘defend the security interests of our own people’.”


That false pretext of Hitler was no more convincing than the pretexts of today’s Russian dictator. As the right reverend Prelate wrote:

“History never repeats itself, but echoes can be felt for generations.”


That explains some of the deep anguish now being felt in Ukraine. We remember Hungary in 1956 and Czechoslovakia in 1968, but also, as the noble Lord, Lord Sedwill, said, we remember what we thought was a game-changer on that other 9/11 in 1989, when the wall came down. We were clearly wrong.

An attack on one is an attack on us all—something wider than NATO, wider than any military or territorial approach—for this attack is on the precious, invaluable, democratic family, a family with a free press, free and fair elections, the rule of law and respect for sovereignty, agreed borders and self-determination.

I do not know the Ukrainian equivalent of “Ich bin ein Berliner”. But I know why we weep for Ukraine.