I don’t think there’s much talk of positive consequences in Germany. “Europeans know there is no complete security in Europe against Russia,” said Klaus Scharioth, who served as Germany’s ambassador to the United States during both the George W. Bush and Barack Obama presidencies. “You can unite, we all do that, which is absolutely necessary, but if Russia stays on the current path, then nobody is secure, because they have all these tactical nuclear weapons. They have also intermediate-range nuclear weapons. And they can, if they want to, they can destroy any European city within minutes.”
Germany has reason to be proud of its reception of Ukrainian refugees, reprising the “willkommenskultur” that led it to accept a million Middle Eastern and North African refugees in 2015. A large section of the Hauptbahnhof train station has been transformed into a makeshift refugee processing center. On Wednesday evening, countless volunteers — wearing yellow vests if they speak only German or English, orange if they speak Russian or Ukrainian — helped new arrivals navigate toward free accommodations in Berlin or buses onward. But the scene is still unspeakably sad. Hundreds of people newly forced from their homes milled around, some laden with baggage, others with only rolling suitcases. Families were slumped on the floor. Some people clutched pets. The catastrophe they’d fled wasn’t that far away;
Berlin is closer to Lviv than to Paris.
“We live in a different world now,” said Ricarda Lang, a co-leader of the German Green Party, when I met her at a pro-Ukraine demonstration outside the Russian Embassy. “I, as a person who was born in 1994, I grew up in a peaceful Europe. For me, peace and democracy in many ways were something that was taken for granted.” Such assurance, she said, has now disappeared. Putin has murdered a whole constellation of post-Cold War assumptions. No one knows what new paradigms will replace them.