The power of local diplomacy

Ukrainian Protest against Russian invasion of Ukraine at Sts. Volodymyr and Olha Ukrainian Catholic Church in Chicago. Photo: iwonder TV / Shutterstock

It is easy to view such decisions as symbolic endeavours that will have little impact on the course of the war. Yet, taken as a whole, the chorus of local governments reacting to the invasion has made a difference. Their diplomacy has amplified the material punishment and ostracism of Russia, brought more aid to Ukraine, and personalised the conflict to local communities in the West that are far removed from the war zone. Some cities have kept lines of communication open with counterparts in Russia, which has undermined the Kremlin’s narratives about its invasion.

Bricks in the wall around Putin

Countries have unsurprisingly been at the forefront of sanctions. But, under the radar, local governments have reinforced and strengthened the legitimacy of these efforts. Right after the invasion, for instance, authorities in Quebec tasked the local liquor board with getting rid of Russian products in stores. In New York state, Governor Kathy Hochul signed executive orders banning state entities from relations with Russia-based businesses. Washington Governor Jay Inslee explained the thinking of some local decision-makers to the Associated Press: “If our state can put one brick in the wall around Putin, it will be a good thing.” These bricks in the wall, as Governor Inslee has called them, are inseparable from national policies and deepen the sanctions regime by establishing roots at the local level. It also makes a reversal of policies more difficult as regional governments move on to establish other global connections. For the Russian elite, these actions illustrate western consensus and cut off potential weak links that could facilitate the evasion of punitive policies.

In light of a bewildering array of options for helping Ukrainians, sister city arrangements have also made it easier for local governments and people to give direct donations and aid. The mayor of Chernivtsi, for instance, requested and received generators and humanitarian assistance from its Romanian sister cities of Suceava, Iași and Timișoara. Florence held fundraisers for Kyiv, one of its sister cities, while the mayor of Winnipeg donated 10,000 US dollars from the local budget to Lviv, a sister city since 1973. Beaufort, a small South Carolina city of about 13,000 people, raised 50,000 US dollars for its sister city of Ostroh.

As the number of actions increases, other cities have become aware that institutionalised bonds can open a pathway to assistance. At the end of March, local officials in Los Angeles were discussing fast-tracking the designation of sister city status for Kyiv, which would make it easier to donate emergency vehicles. For Ukrainian local authorities, the aid may not be as substantial as the involvement of international organisations and large-scale donations from countries. Nonetheless, having friends around the world diversifies global reach and increases potential sources of assistance.

In the European Union, German and Polish cities have called upon their partners across the world to help with refugees arriving from Ukraine. Bad Königshofen, for instance, has reached out to its sister city of Arlington (Texas). The city of Camas (Washington) has collected donations for its sister cities of Krapkowice, Morawica and Zabierzów, while the Cape Breton Regional Municipality in Canada has done the same for Wałbrzych. For cities within countries that have welcomed refugees, partners in other countries have offered a significant channel for collecting resources to help those displaced by the war.

No longer an abstract concept

Even in the absence of direct financial assistance, local government ties foster empathy that allows people – however far away from Ukraine they may be – to gain a better understanding of the dire consequences of the Russian invasion. Mayors and their constituents are often more concerned about pavement repairs than foreign wars, but decades-long sister city relations involve interactions between people who would otherwise never encounter each other. They enable local media to weave a personal angle into stories, which is more likely to be memorable for its audience. Dozens of examples in the United States have included small and big cities alike: a couple from Corvallis, Oregon delivering supplies to Uzhhorod; locals in Arlington, Virginia collecting donations for Ivano-Frankivsk; a woman from Randolph, Vermont worried about her friends in the town’s sister city of Myrhorod; and a teacher from Kharkiv speaking with her friends in Cincinnati, Ohio about the war.

Many of the stories may seem pedestrian, but they strengthen the sense that war is not an abstract concept. For westerners who have experienced very little conflict at home, having Ukrainian friends or acquaintances who are living through it can be more poignant than simply watching the conflict unfold on television. Furthermore, empathy can create a more welcoming environment for refugees and can mitigate information exhaustion: it is easier to turn off the TV to forget about the war than it is to stop paying attention to the plight of one’s friends.

On the other hand, these local networks and sister city agreements are an opportunity for local governments to express their outrage directly to Russian sister cities or partners. Sanctions go beyond material punishment; they seek to ostracise. Local decision-makers have also made their own contributions in this regard. Since the end of February, cities like Glasgow, Turku, Tokyo and Tallinn have suspended their relations with their sister cities in protest of the invasion. Sarasota (Florida) Commissioner Hagen Brody framed his city’s decision as being “in line with the international community’s response to isolating Russia”. Since ostracism is a communal activity, more voices in support of Ukraine augment the Kremlin’s isolation.

Outright suspensions have elicited some criticism. For instance, Sister Cities International, an organisation that coordinates the sister city programme in the US, has urged cities not to cut contact lest it remove the “last channel of communication with vulnerable or isolated populations”. Some cities have indeed rejected suspension proposals for this very reason, Juneau (Alaska) and Louisville (Kentucky) among them. The mayor of Livermore (California) even sent a letter to the sister city of Snezhinsk to “request your support for a ceasefire in Ukraine. Thousands of innocent lives have already been lost and the Ukrainian people continue to face an unprovoked, unrestrained military aggression from the Russian Federation”. Whatever choice one makes, the outcome has been the same: local leaders have voiced their opposition to the invasion to Russian colleagues directly.

Friends and foes

It is not yet clear what the consequences of such suspensions or letters will be in the long term. The administrative head of Pskov, Elena Polonskaya, seems to be one of the few Russian officials who has issued a public response. In April, the official acknowledged the receipt of a letter from the German city of Gera, which asked for a public position on the war. Polonskaya’s retort echoed Kremlin talking points about Russia’s “special military operation” and said that “Russia did not start, but is finishing the war that Ukrainian authorities started against their own Russian-speaking citizens.” Keeping lines of communication open may not, then, create a space outside of state interaction that is safe from Russian propaganda, as even local Russian leaders may support the invasion.

Whether cities halt or continue communication to express their opposition to the Russian invasion, local diplomacy still blunts the Kremlin’s propaganda. A familiar talking point from Moscow suggests that regular westerners resent their leaders’ policies toward Russia. The claim is akin to an argument that a “silent majority” in the West is or could be pro-Russian and is against what Moscow defines as an aggressive foreign policy pushed by national decision-makers. The fact that cities and regions criticise Moscow’s invasion both hinders such narratives and indicates to the Kremlin and local Russian governments that support for Ukraine runs deep. Networks also preserve local contacts that are difficult for Moscow to suppress. This may be paramount now that the Kremlin has severely restricted access to western media and information in the country.

Of course, if local governments can strengthen the punishment and ostracisation of Russia, they can presumably do the opposite. Moldova, despite not formally joining western sanctions against Moscow, has supported most punitive policies and criticism. The governor of its autonomous region of Gagauzia, on the other hand, said on February 25th that nobody should try to “blame or justify any of the sides” in the war. Statements like these erode the ability of a sovereign state to present a coherent front and weaken the effort to isolate Russia. In the EU, Moscow may be able to rely upon local governments like Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, which was instrumental in advancing the construction of the Nord Stream 2 pipeline prior to the invasion, to mitigate some of the EU’s sanctions in the future. After the war ends, the revival of diplomatic ties with local governments may be one pathway that Russia pursues to re-enter international society.

For now, though, local diplomacy surrounding the Russian invasion has been largely supportive of Ukraine. Kyiv’s diplomats are aware of its benefits. In March, Ukrainian consulates sent a message to US cities with partners in Russia, urging them to take a stand. “As a mayor”, the letter said, “you have the power to address your counterparts in Russia with a firm demand for them to start acting now in resisting the criminal regime of the Kremlin before it’s too late.” Diplomats and local governments have indeed realised that, even during war, power does not only belong to sovereign states.

Cristian Cantir is an associate professor with the department of political science at Oakland University (Michigan, USA).

Russia, Ukraine, War