My Transition from Soldier to Advocate for Peace
A long time ago in a neighbourhood far, far away, between playing war games with carved wooden guns and printing a 10-page manifesto for my parents explaining why airsoft is safe to play, the idea of shooting guns and the concept of 'military service' started early on. I wanted to be a high-ranking officer and “level up” as in the war games. I would be at least a second lieutenant! (The highest rank attainable during military service as land trooper.)
Perhaps you have heard the jaded mantra that “the army makes men out of boys”. About a third of boys in Finland don't go to the army, and they can't be men? This is what I thought when I was young. Army is a rite of passage to manhood.
I didn't really know much about the true nature of military service. Only that there's strict discipline and a lot of shouting. My only sources of information were movies and my own imagination.
a lego rubberband-gun I made at 14-years-old
While in high school, I received a military service notice and followed to the specified location. I sat in a large hall where army propaganda videos played in a continuous loop with fanfare music. Seated beside me was a boy who appeared to be grappling with compulsive behaviours, and I couldn't help but sympathise with him, knowing he'd miss out on what I anticipated to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
At that point, I was already convinced that military service was going to be the best time of my life, even though I remained relatively uninformed about it. I even contemplated volunteering for it if it wasn't mandatory.
Now, my family isn't militaristic. Dad had fields to harvest, and to him, military service was more of an interruption than a duty. Interestingly, despite no familial push, I was drawn to the idea of serving. My family has always been supportive of whatever choice I have made. But why didn’t I choose civil service? Was it society that shaped my sentiments then? (I thought civil service was for noobs.)
People believe that Finland, due to its location and history, has had no other strategic choices but to rely on military service. Although, to be fair, this is exactly what the rest of the world thinks about themselves, too.
Moreover, military service is what boys have always done and will always do, not only in Finland, but throughout history all around the world. We are not special even if we share a long border with Russia.
So this is the reality we accept as it is the only reality we have ever witnessed.
The thing is, even if we accept that Finland needs mandatory military service because of its small population, it doesn't make military service morally right.
You could say that morals have nothing to do when the Other attacking you does not care about morals or human rights, dignity and life. But for the very least, if we keep an army, then do it right: create a professional army who can get paid to do it. And start researching about the possibility of an unarmed civilian-based defence, employing non-violent strategies, tactics, and tools against the Other in a conflict situation.
For now, in its current state, military service fundamentally takes away the person’s right to their life. Finland, a supposedly humanitarian society, compelled me to obey the rules and perform military service.
Governments use different ways to get young men to join the military, either by forcing them and threatening consequences or, like in modern Finland, where societal norms make young men willingly join without much thought.
This was true for me too.
happy Ville
I joined the army when I was 19 and spent nine months in service. Oh, and Finland does not have an army per se as it has been euphemistically labelled as the “Finnish Defence Forces”. We are too polite to call it an army.
I shot people. (I took photographs.) I was really lucky with that position. I could “disobey much of the rules” without anyone caring too much.
For example, morning breakfast was mandatory for all and I never went there. Though, one time, around ten o’clock in the morning, my captain woke me up. I overslept. All of my roommates had already left to do their daily duty. (Bastards left me.) She gave me a two-day penalty for this.
I went to the office to sleep it off.
But on the whole I was super lucky. I had loads of time to self-reflect, plan for the future, read books and do creative things on my office computer. I didn’t have to stand under the cold and rain; to walk kilometres around the barracks or march long distances; or to do military exercises in some distant northern forest in the winter. None of my days were hard.
Yet I was blind to the problems of military service at the time.
Men are getting the short end of the stick with mandatory military duties. Why isn't everyone, regardless of gender, starting service on the same terms?
If, say, women were forced to work unpaid in nursing homes under the threat of jail, just because of their gender, surely at least one politician would raise an eyebrow. Inventing mandatory military service for men today would not last daylight.
Moreover, why is there no talk of better allowances or pension benefits for our conscripts? And don't get me started on the extreme penalties for those refusing any mandatory service altogether. Finland stands alone in Europe, locking up youngsters just because of their gender. How's that for welfare state equality?
Perhaps the best thing that happened to me during the military was befriending an amazing woman and mother, who is still one of my best friends. You could say that the otherwise hypermasculine army experience was more feminine thanks to her. From her I learned much more than from the army.
These challenges echo the deep-seated problems embedded within the military's structure. Yet, the real issue is the foundation of the organization itself! Rather than nurturing an entity devoted to mastering the art of warfare, our focus should shift toward perfecting and embracing non-violent alternatives.
My perspective started to shift only when I delved into peace studies six years after the service. The black and white clarity I had about military service began to grey. I no longer cherished my army memories the same, and my Stockholm Syndrome with the army started to fade away.
The oft-quoted “If you want peace, prepare for war” no longer resonated in me. I started to question:
Can you truly achieve conflict resolution through war, killing neighbours?
It didn’t make logical sense to study peace and stay enlisted at the same time. Therefore, I decided to de-enlist myself from the army reserve. Mind you, this was all before the Russian invasion, so I didn’t act on the fear of war.
my hair started to grow after peace studies
After the peace studies I transferred from the army reserve to civil reserve (“siviilivaranto”) by participating in a five-day supplemental training (“täydennyskoulutus”). It was a five-day resort where I listened to university-level lecturers on non-violence, human rights, and critical thinking. Essentially the same things I learned in the beginning of peace studies. They even paid me 60 euros a day.
As I walked to the civil service centre for the first time, I was asked to sign my transfer. In that moment, I felt conviction but also trepidation, an impulse in my body. I felt traitorous to my country when I signed the final signature. That well may have been the conditioning I received from the army and society on the whole.
I asked others why they were doing it. Many questioned the military-industrial complex, killing of people, and most of the people had children and families. Their values and convictions shifted.
enjoying coffee at the civil service center
My mom, who experienced childhood under Soviet Russia, questioned me afterwards, in a rhetorical manner: Who is going to defend Finland now against Russia?
Was I a wimp without “Sisu”?
Our cultural identity is tied up with stories of grit, the concept of “Sisu”. For example, the famed notion of 'ten Russians for one Finn' emerged not merely as a numerical expression, but as a symbolic testament to undeterred resolve against seemingly insurmountable odds.
Now there is also an action movie named Sisu that tells story of a Finnish man against Nazis in the north. The movie was well-made and the ending was funny. I have to give them that.
But there are also less known heroes with Sisu that Finland never told about in its history books. For example, Arndt Pekurinen, who we can thank paving the way for non-violent alternatives for military service.
He refused to serve, and time and time again he was jailed for this. In the end, despite sharing the values of a Finnish man, he was executed without trial for his beliefs by the army during the Continuation War. At first, two soldiers refused to execute him, until the third obeyed the order.
Our history books, educational institutions, families, media, peers, and governing bodies have remained silent about the transformative power of non-violence. In places like China, the truth of events like the 1989 Tiananmen Square protests is buried, censored from the public consciousness, in a deliberate effort to conceal any indication that their authoritarian grip could be challenged, even undone, by peaceful resistance.
tank man
Stories of non-violent conflicts must be told because they empower all of us and not just men to take part in possible conflict situations.
In 1940, at the brink of World War II, Denmark anticipated that the Nazis would soon occupy their lands. To minimise casualties, the Danish King was forced to submit, despite their declared neutrality. Although the Nazis conquered Denmark, the Danish did not surrender.
The Danes rallied, and created a robust resistance movement characterised by diverse non-violent strategies—from public demonstrations of Danish culture and unity, the formation of an underground press, to a remarkable show of public defiance in the 1943 elections.
This solidarity extended to daring acts of sabotage, strikes, and the collective effort to save Jewish Danes from Nazi persecution, even under the threat of severe German reprisals. The Danish people's commitment to non-violent resistance significantly hampered German objectives and, most crucially, preserved human lives, demonstrating the power of unified, peaceful opposition in the face of violent oppression[1].
I never heard about non-violence until the peace studies. Most of the people in täydennyskoulutus were flabbergasted as well and something seemed to click their heads. Especially regarding the comparison between violence and non-violence with the former having so many strategies, tactics, and tools in disposal that make the latter seem inadequate in comparison.
At the moment, no nation has cultivated non-violent strategies and tactics in a large, systematic scale similar to armies. Reflect on the legions of soldiers that nations have trained and conditioned for war for decades and centuries. Then, it's no mystery why armies seem to “function”. Non-violence has never been employed on a national level as there have never been any research programs by any nation-state.
My friends often pose a daunting question: How do we stand against something as monstrous as a genocidal, propaganda-fueled, military-industrial behemoth, akin to the Nazis? The path remains shrouded in uncertainty. Yet, the absence of answers should not be a deterrent, but rather a call for exploration and inquiry.
Alas when there is no political will to allocate resources, skills and knowledge on non-violent action programs on a national level, then no wonder non-violent methods are seen as inadequate by our leaders.
Common misconception is that non-violence works merely under specific circumstances. But isn’t the same true for war and killing, too? It doesn’t always work. As warriors often proclaim, “We may have lost the battle, but not the war”. The same holds equally true to non-violent conflicts.
In essence, non-violence is the idea that taking action without causing harm or resorting to violence, which is not only a morally sound choice but also often more effective than violence. Non-violent action involves using strategies like peaceful protests, social movements, or economic pressure to bring about change, all without resorting to violence or the threat of violence. There are at least 198 ways one can non-violently act against oppression.
Between 1900 and 2006, this approach has been successful in various political settings, including democracies, authoritarian regimes, and totalitarian systems, countering repression more than half the time. In contrast, violent resistance tends to be way less successful.
However, it's important to note that the effectiveness of non-violent resistance has somewhat decreased in recent years due to increased state awareness and repression tactics. Still, non-violent action remains a powerful tool for challenging oppression, even though it typically triggers a strong responses from the aggressor.[2]
I blame Machiavellian literature that has given rise perspectives that emphasise force over ethics, justifying ends at any cost, and assuming that war is always behind the door. Unfortunately, these perspectives are rooted in the minds of those who decide the fate of our lives in governments and military organisations. These same notions are taught to students learning politics.
They see power as something like military strength, wealth, population, and territorial size. However, there's another view, a more feminist approach to power. Feminists concentrate on individual empowerment and non-violent resistance, especially regarding the question of obedience and cooperation.
We conform and collaborate often out of ingrained routines, dread of repercussions, the allure of financial incentives, a desire for acceptance, the weight of societal expectations, and the influence of those around us.
As Banksy said
The greatest crimes in the world are not committed by people breaking the rules but by people following the rules. It's people who follow orders that drop bombs and massacre villages.
When we dare to defy, we strip invading forces of their illusion of control. Imagine soldiers, marching through foreign streets, met not with aggressors, but with an unyielding human spirit, a populace unafraid and unthreatening, standing firm in their dignity. These soldiers find unable to justify violence against those who pose no harm. And when these invaders seek to impose their will, they encounter a people united in fearless resistance, meeting demands with steadfast denial.
This is the profound strength of non-violence and defiance: a power so raw and human that it can penetrate the military psyche, inspiring soldiers to question, to hesitate, and perhaps to disobey. It is here, in this extraordinary moment, that the rigid hierarchy of military command, built on unflinching obedience, begins to crumble.
This defiance ignites a powerful ripple effect, a feedback loop of courage and transformation, unraveling the very fabric of oppressive control. Each act of peaceful rebellion echoes through the ranks, undermining the false authority of conquest, and reawakening the heart's allegiance to humanity.
All of this requires tremendous amount of courage, bravery, and fearlessness. In Finnish words, Sisu. It is not easy. But neither is war.
I miss the idea of it, but not the truth.
Participating in military service is more than just a uniform—it's subscribing to a doctrine that shadows one's soul, moulding individuals into emissaries of conflict, rather than ambassadors for peace. It is a silent oath taken to uphold hypermasculine ideologies, and a tacit surrender to a narrative that champions brutality over empathy, aggression over dialogue, and destruction over creation.
When you enlist, you weave your identity into a tapestry streaked with the tragedies of historical conquests and the illusion of valor in violence. You become a cog in a gargantuan machine that thrives on conflict, a pawn moved by the invisible hands of the military-industrial complex, which feeds insatiably on obedience and compliance.
And beyond that, you're endorsing a system antithetical to the very resilience and courage—true Sisu—that lives in facing adversity without resorting to violence, in embracing the arduous path of sustained peace that demands much more bravery than the quick action of war.
By becoming a soldier, you're not just sacrificing your time or your safety; you're compromising your humanity, allowing the softer aspects of your soul—compassion, kindness, and love—to wither in the desolation left by war's touch. It's not simply about who you are in the moment of service; it's about who you become in the relentless pursuit of a peace that was never meant to be achieved through the barrel of a gun.
I am a single person, and I cannot end violence and wars, but with these words, I etch into time a testament of dissent against a narrative I no longer accept: I can write a blog post about it.
[1] A Force More Powerful [2] Check Maria Stephan's and Erica Chenoweth's Why Civil Resistance Works and International Center on Nonviolent Conflict's articles.