Hicham El Ouahabi | Only to the front after Lowlands
Conscription is back on the table, including at the table of bubbly students. What are we going to do, columnist Hicham El Ouahabi wonders after a conversation about this with fellow students. “Where could the Ministry of Defence station me? Ground security? Supervising evacuations? Medical care? Don’t make me laugh.”
The snacks and drinks were just on the table, our coats still on the chairs. The evening had yet to begin. And then it was suddenly there: war. Who would go? To the front, if the Ministry of Defence called up. As carelessly as the question was asked, the threat of war had entered our group of friends so silently.
“If I could go home occasionally, I would certainly consider it,” said one friend, sounding serious. A female friend was a bit more decisive: “Only after Lowlands, I promise. I’m not just going to give up my festival ticket, and I’m sure they’re less likely to send women that way.”
Alongside these half-spoken conditions were two clear, opposing camps. One categorically refused. “On principle, never,” he muttered, whatever that may mean. The other was the complete opposite: “Of course I am willing to die for the Netherlands and Europe,” he solemnly declared.
I myself was a bit taken aback. As if I didn’t have enough to think about already: the first chapters of my thesis, choosing a destination for the summer holidays, deciding what to do on King’s Day. And now I also had to think about whether I would be willing to wander around a war zone in a camouflage suit.
Fine, I thought about it. In silence. Where could the Ministry of Defence put me? Ground surveillance? Sounds tough, but after ten minutes of boredom I’ll escape to another universe via a podcast or film. Accompanying evacuations? Interesting, although I fear I’ll get bogged down in endless conversations with evacuees about how on earth it could have come to this. Medical care, then? Don’t make me laugh.
Still, I didn’t want to sound like a dropout right away. “If there is a communication team, I would be willing to consider it,” I said. A little newsletter, a little blogging, that kind of heroism. Or writing interminable essays on diplomacy and humanity, of course in proper APA style and including an extensive bibliography, and then straight to the Kremlin. These days you never know what landslide a well-placed source reference can cause.
“Is there even a communications team on the front line,” I was asked. According to a group at the table, there was. They assured us it was indispensable. This person wondered first of all what the situation was regarding the number of holidays and salary scales at the front. And before we knew it, the conversation had derailed towards the importance of work-life balance, flexibility and career opportunities, even there, on an imaginary battlefield.
That evening we laughed like you laugh when something is too uncomfortable and every answer contains a shred of truth. Because no matter how absurd it sounded, the subject no longer felt like fiction. So is it wise to send our generation to the front? I have no idea. I will gladly leave that judgement up to you.
What I do know for sure? That I miss the time when the biggest moral issue and the only concern in the pub was: who will sacrifice themselves as a martyr, make the trip to the bar and buy the next round?
