By Matt Underwood 
Croatia has recently made a significant decision, refusing to transport Russian oil to Hungary and Slovakia through its port and the Adria pipeline. This move is framed as a stance against “war profiteering,” a bold declaration that resonates with many who are watching the ongoing geopolitical shifts with concern. For Croatia, this decision carries a particular weight, a echoes of their own recent past. Thirty-five years ago, Croatia faced what they describe as an existential threat, a situation that clearly informs their current position and their empathy for Ukraine.
From a Hungarian perspective, this Croatian decision is met with a strong sense of gratitude. There’s a palpable sentiment that this is a necessary step to weaken Russia, and a call for unity in confronting what some perceive as a detrimental regime within Hungary itself. The hope is that this act of defiance from Croatia will inspire strength and solidarity, not just in the immediate geopolitical sense, but also domestically within Hungary, where a battle against the current leadership is anticipated. It’s a moment where, for some, Croatia is demonstrating a moral compass and a commitment to humanity that is deeply appreciated.
The sentiment of appreciation for Croatia’s stance is widespread. Many express disbelief and profound happiness that their government has taken a principled stand, with enthusiastic exclamations of “Go Croatia!” and “Bravo!” pouring in. The decision is seen as courageous and the right thing to do for the broader human cause. This is a moment of pride for Croatians, who feel their nation is finally doing something unequivocally good, a sentiment that transcends nationalistic pride and speaks to a shared sense of global responsibility.
However, the situation is not without its complexities and dissenting voices, particularly concerning Hungary’s role. There are those who question whether Hungary truly understands its indirect contribution to the suffering in Ukraine. The leadership in Hungary is criticized for what is described as unprofessionalism, stupidity, and laziness, especially in light of potential future oil supply issues. The hope is that the Hungarian people will hold their leaders accountable for this perceived negligence during upcoming elections. The question arises about who Hungary would turn to if Croatia were to uphold its contract, suggesting a dependence that could be exploited.
The technicality of Croatia’s refusal is also a point of discussion. It’s not simply a matter of blocking the pipeline, as some interpretations might suggest. Instead, Croatia is refusing entry to ships carrying Russian oil into their ports, a distinction that holds legal and technical significance. While the outcome might be the same – preventing the oil from reaching its destination – the method is different. Croatia could argue that while they have no issue with the pipeline itself, the specific ships attempting to dock do not meet regulations, perhaps citing insurance or safety concerns. This nuanced approach allows Croatia to maintain its principled stand while adhering to specific legal frameworks.
The historical context between Ukraine and Croatia is also brought to the forefront, highlighting a history of mutual support. Ukraine was among the first nations to recognize Croatia’s independence, even providing crucial aviation support during a difficult embargo period. This shared history of struggle, particularly Croatia’s own experiences in the 1990s, seems to deeply resonate with the current situation in Ukraine, drawing parallels that inform Croatia’s decision-making.
This parallel to Croatia’s own past struggles is not lost on observers. There’s a recognition that both aggressor nations, in this case Russia and historically Serbia in the breakup of Yugoslavia, have a tendency to victim-blame. They twist narratives to create a casus belli, often resorting to historical grievances, such as accusations of supporting Nazis during World War II, to justify their actions. This pattern of manipulation is seen as irrational and indicative of a deeper, more troubling ideology.
The discussion also touches upon a broader, and perhaps uncomfortable, historical reckoning. While Germany often faces scrutiny for its past actions, there’s a reminder that other countries, including Croatia, Italy, and Russia, were also allies of Nazi Germany, at least initially. This perspective challenges a simplistic view of historical culpability and suggests a more nuanced understanding of wartime alliances and their long-term implications.
Furthermore, the concept of propaganda is highlighted as a dangerously underestimated force. It is argued that propaganda can severely manipulate public opinion, leading to a willingness to hate whomever a leader designates. This is particularly relevant when discussing Hungary’s alignment with Russia, suggesting that a significant portion of the Hungarian population may be influenced by such narratives, rather than acting on independent judgment. The brainwashing effect of propaganda is seen as a profound shame.
In conclusion, Croatia’s refusal to transport Russian oil is a decision rooted in principle, historical empathy, and a clear opposition to what is perceived as “war profiteering.” It’s a move that has garnered significant praise and support, particularly from those who see it as a courageous stand for humanity and a necessary step in weakening an aggressor. While the decision is technically nuanced, its impact is significant, highlighting the complex geopolitical landscape and the enduring power of historical parallels in shaping present-day actions. The hope is that this decision will not only have international repercussions but will also inspire greater accountability and critical thinking within nations like Hungary.