The great landmine hypocrisy by Mia Rodríguez

In an era where progress was supposed to mean burying the remnants of past conflicts, Europe finds itself digging up old demons, literally. On this International Day for Mine Awareness and Assistance in Mine Action, the world should be reflecting on the lives saved and the lands reclaimed from these deadly relics. Instead, we are forced to confront an uncomfortable truth: countries that once prided themselves on humanitarian progress are now backtracking, using the war in Ukraine as a convenient excuse to resurrect the vile practice of landmine deployment.

It is both ironic and tragic that Europe, the continent that once championed treaties like the Ottawa Convention, the landmark treaty banning anti-personnel mines, is now trying to dig its way out of responsibility. In the name of defence, some nations have reverted to tactics that not only threaten the lives of combatants but also leave scars that will linger for decades. When did defence start including the calculated sacrifice of future generations and the intentional sabotage of peace?

The Russian invasion of Ukraine has been a brutal affair, with Europe caught in the geopolitical crossfire. But instead of learning from history, some countries have chosen to repeat it. The argument for reintroducing landmines often hinges on strategic necessity and defensive measures. The rhetoric goes something like this: desperate times call for desperate measures, and mines offer a cheap and effective deterrent.

But does this justification hold up under scrutiny? Absolutely not. The war in Ukraine does not nullify decades of ethical progress or the responsibility to protect civilians. Rather, it exposes a growing hypocrisy among European powers, those who loudly condemn Russia's indiscriminate tactics while quietly planting their own ticking traps in the soil.

It’s not just the act of deploying mines that reeks of hypocrisy, it’s the erasure of decades of advocacy, campaigning, and awareness that sought to render landmines relics of the past. The voices of those who suffered—the amputees, the maimed children, the farmers afraid to till their fields—are being drowned out by a renewed lust for quick military solutions.

Landmines don’t distinguish between soldier and civilian, between wartime and peacetime. They are indiscriminate killers, lying in wait long after the battles have faded from memory. Generations will pay the price of today’s decisions, long after the conflict in Ukraine has ended. Yet, European nations are willing to gamble with the lives of future civilians to create a temporary line of defence.

Children will be the ones to stumble over forgotten mines a decade from now. Farmers will lose limbs trying to harvest a field that was once part of a battleground. Aid workers will once again carry stretchers through minefields because politicians couldn't imagine a more humane strategy. It’s as if these decision-makers have forgotten the lessons learned through the blood and tears of past conflicts.

And let’s not forget the diplomatic gymnastics involved. How do these countries maintain their moral high ground while violating the very treaties they helped draft and ratify? The double standard is as clear as daylight: condemning Russia’s indiscriminate shelling while simultaneously justifying the reintroduction of equally ruthless and long-lasting weapons.

The real tragedy lies in how easily fear and convenience have trumped compassion and reason. It’s almost as if Europe has given up on diplomacy and deterrence without barbarism, opting instead to meet brutality with brutality. If it wasn’t so horrifying, it would almost be laughable how quickly humanitarian commitments crumble when the going gets tough.

How did it come to this? How did we regress from clearing minefields to planting them again? The answer, sadly, is rooted in fear, fear of invasion, fear of vulnerability, fear of being unprepared. But fear cannot justify inhumanity. The war in Ukraine might have reignited old anxieties, but it should never have buried the lessons learned from centuries of violence.

Leadership means upholding principles even when they are inconvenient. Yet some leaders are acting more like archaeologists of warfare, unearthing old tactics that should have been buried forever. The failure here is not just a strategic one; it is a moral collapse.

If Europe truly believes in peace and human rights, it must reject the reintroduction of landmines outright. Public pressure and international condemnation are crucial, but more than that, countries need to remember why the Ottawa Convention exists in the first place. Real leadership would focus on innovation in defence and de-escalation, not reverting to brutal relics of past conflicts.

Organizations and activists must make noise—more noise than the justifications spewing from political podiums. Civil society must not allow fear to dig up graves that were meant to stay closed. Human lives, future lives, are worth more than temporary security or strategic advantage.

As we mark this International Day for Mine Awareness, it is not just a time to reflect on past victories but to confront the frightening possibility that they are being undone. We cannot afford to stand silent while Europe trades morality for mines. To dig up the past like this is to plant new seeds of suffering and no excuse can ever justify that.