The Karelian Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic provides a unique opportunity for an examination of Soviet linguistic policy. Part of the difficulty in the analysis of the development of Soviet languages has been the lack of a control language or suitable basis for comparison between a language in its Soviet and non-Soviet environment. While it is impossible to determine how a language would have developed had there been no revolution or had it not been in the Soviet Union, some very general observations seem clear. The example of Turkish and Azerbaijani is instructive in this respect. The entire orientation of these two languages has changed drastically since their respective revolutions, particularly in the replacement of the Arabic alphabet by Latin and Cyrillic respectively, the handling of traditional arabisms and Persianisms, and the sources for neologisms (Western European languages and native roots for Turkish and Russian for Azerbaijani). There are, however, very few situations where a realistic comparison can be made between different versions of the same language, for the language abroad may represent only an emigre community or may exist in totally different circumstances, such as Iranian Azerbaijani, or the Soviet language may itself represent only a rump, such as Soviet Yiddish.

A small advertisement in the first issue of España Popular, a weekly journal begun in February 1940 and edited by Spanish communists in exile, announced that it would be publishing chapters of The Terror of 1824. This 1877 novel by Benito Pérez Galdós (1843–1920) was part of the second series of his National Episodes and served as a literary standard for reinforcing the master narrative of Spanish liberal nationalism at the turn of the century. Spanish communists considered The Terror of 1824 a representative work of common patriotic heritage that should be preserved and publicized among their followers. Built around the absolutist repression of liberals after the anti-Napoleonic War in Spain, the novel was given an updated political meaning. An implicit parallel was traced between the fate of nineteenth-century liberals and the recent exile of Spanish communists, with the former cast as the progressive forerunners of the twentieth-century freedom fighters in Spain. This was coherent with the Republican and socialist interpretation of the Spanish history of that period.

Russia is one of the world’s largest migrant-receiving countries. The recession of recent years, changes in labor market and immigration policies, and an increase in anti-foreign sentiment have directly affected immigrants’ lives in Russia. This has been reflected not only in how immigrants find employment and housing in the country but also in how they perceive Russia as a country in which to work and live. This article analyzes remigration as a coping strategy of Afghan immigrants in Russia. These immigrants face severe everyday difficulties as irregular migrants and suffer discrimination and uncertainty. Despite their low status and vulnerability, we argue that Afghan immigrants still have agency, evident in how they interpret and live in the Russian anti-immigrant atmosphere. The article is based on stories narrated by Afghan immigrants in Russia and a qualitative content analysis of the asylum application protocols of Afghan asylum seekers in Finland that was produced by the Finnish Border Guard, Police, and the Finnish Immigration Service. A total of 632 Afghan citizens applied for asylum after entering Finland from the Russian Federation along the “Arctic route” between 2015 and 2016.

The article addresses the representation of gypsies in Russian television news bulletins and popular drama series over a 15-month period. It seeks first to explain the prominence of the media image of the gypsy relative to the size of the Roma population and second to account for the relationship between fictional and non-fictional modes of representation. Situating itself within the broader field of post-Soviet Russian identity studies and applying qualitative tools differentiated according to the arena of analysis, it looks at questions of lexicon, voice and viewpoint in relation to news and issues of characterization, fictional space and plot with respect to drama. The two apparatuses are linked through a shared emphasis on narrative, and in particular on its dual orientation toward the exceptional (what makes a story worth telling and capable of embracing “difference”) and the typical (what enables it to represent and project “identity”). In its central argument it maps this dual “identity/difference” dynamic onto the gypsy's liminal status as both “of the self” and “of the other”, and its mediatory function: the ability to serve as a proxy for ethno-cultural difference more generally, and to negotiate the tensions between the cultural and racial aspects of ethnicity.

In December 2001, over 150 citizens of Russia, Israel, the U.S., Ukraine and some other countries gathered in Moscow in their capacity as former activists of the non-official Jewish movement in the USSR to celebrate the 25th anniversary of an event that had never taken place—an unofficial Moscow Symposium on Jewish Culture. The symposium, which had been forbidden by the KGB, acquired an important, but symbolic, meaning (as vivid evidence of the suppression of Jewish culture in the USSR) for the very fact of its non-performance. Celebrating this (non-)event 25 years later, members of the Jewish movement who had been active for some time in the period from the late 1960s to the late 1980s talked about their struggle against the Soviet regime, emphasizing the victory they had gained together with other dissenting groups. They called for the “political support of Israel, the United States, and Russia in their fight against international terrorism,” spoke on behalf of repeal of the Jackson–Vannick amendment, voted for the establishment of a transnational association of Russian (or Russian-speaking or former Soviet) Jews, and even discussed the “historical mission of Russian Jewry.” The issue of Jewish culture was virtually omitted from the discussion.

On October 20, 1989 the Harriman Institute's Nationalities and Siberian Studies Program of Columbia University sponsored a panel discussion entitled, “The Baltic Republics Fifty Years After the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact.” The panel, consisting of Dr. Allen Lynch, Dr. Stephan Kux, Mr. Jenik Radon and Mr. William Hough, analyzed the current situation in Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania as well as in the other republics from a variety of perspectives, and debated the motivations and appropriateness of the response of the Western powers to the growing strength of the various independence movements in the Baltic republics. The following edited transcript of those proceedings points up the complex and contentious nature of the status of the Baltic republics in the era of Gorbachev, in both the domestic (Soviet) and international contexts. Nationalist leaders within the Soviet Union debate the appropriate tactics and pace to pursue their goals. The Soviet leadership dabates the extent to which autonomy may be granted to the nationalities. Western leaders consider their options in responding to the changes in the Soviet Union, changes which necessitate an overhaul of policies nearly a half-century old as well as some “new thinking” on their parts.

The discussion centered on two issues: (1) What in general has been the response of the West to nationalist movements in the USSR and how appropriate has that response been? (2) Is there any validity to claims of Baltic “exceptionalism”? The following introduction comments briefly on these issues and places them into perspective by drawing on the discussion and exploring several key points.

The creation of an Austrian province, titled “The Kingdom of Galicia and Lodomeria” (“with the Grand Duchy of Cracow” added later) was the result of the first partition of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth in 1772. The addition of this territory to the already imposing number of Habsburg's realms was ostensibly based on the dubious claim of the Hungarian kings to sovereignty over the medieval Ruthenian (Ukrainian) realm of Galicia and Volhynia. Under the subsequent Polish rule, the southern part of this duchy was organized as the województwo ruskie (Ruthenian [Ukrainian] Province), which was one of the several provinces in the so-called Ziemie Ruskie (Ruthenian Lands) of the Commonwealth, or rather of the Korona (Kingdom of Poland), vis-à-vis the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. Galicia as an Austrian creation included small parts of the adjacent Ruthenian provinces of Podilia (Podole), Volhynia and Belz, (i.e. Galicia proper), and in the west also the province of Cracow, with territorial enclaves, really medieval relics, such as the “Duchy of Oświȩcim [Auschwitz]” and “Duchy of Zator” (i.e. the non-historical “Western Galicia”). Under Austrian rule, Galicia became a common home for Ukrainians (officially called Ruthenians) in the eastern counties and Poles in the western counties. Many Poles lived in Galicia proper. The Polish or Latin-Polish culture deeply influenced the Ukrainian population. However, it stubbornly, though inarticulately, maintained a sense of ethnic community with the Ukrainians who lived under the Russian imperial rule. A prominent Polish historian (and for more than a decade President of the Polish Academy of Sciences in Cracow), Stanislaw Smolka, ascertains the “common features” of the “ethno-historical indivudiuality” known in Polish history as Ruś (Ruthenia) which had been “dormant through the centuries but never moribund [obumarla].” This Ruthenia “at the present attempts to find for herself a new distinguishing name and wants it to be ‘Ukraine'.” He also determines “the historical continuity” in the past of the old Ruthenia of Yaroslav and Monomakh and the “Ruthenian Lands” of the Commonwealth.

The First World War represents a watershed in European women's history. The process of female integration into the industrial economy was both speeded up and given official endorsement as the massive mobilization of soldiers created great manpower shortages. The war seemed to accelerate and legitimate the process of female political integration as well, as most postwar European governments met the basic aims of the women's suffrage movement. Despite these advances, the First World War and the interwar years comprised an era which was fraught with conflicts over women's roles, rights, and responsibilities.

From the year 2000 on, Chechen official international relations – called “paradiplomacy” – have centered around legitimacy-building, security cooperation and investment attraction, priorities set by the republic’s first official, pro-Russian president, Akhmat Kadyrov (in office 2000–2004). Kadyrov’s successors, Alu Alkhanov (2004–2007) and Ramzan Kadyrov (2007–to date) developed Grozny’s international engagements further, introducing new partners – such as China – and new dimensions to the external action – such as militarization. At each step, Grozny operated between full autonomy and collaboration with Moscow, involving itself in high-level diplomacy and furthering Moscow’s agenda abroad, primarily in the Middle East. In this article, I argue that Chechen paradiplomacy is an instrument for the inclusion of Chechnya into the governance structures of Russia’s federal order. The argument rests on two premises: Chechnya’s paradiplomacy is framed by the Kremlin’s proactive support and coordination, and Chechnya’s paradiplomacy is closely connected to the Kremlin’s security priorities. Since reincorporation, Chechen paradiplomacy has not been an addition to Russian federal relations but an intrinsic part of the post-2000 political arrangement between Grozny and Moscow. To empirically ground this argument, I trace the evolution of Chechen paradiplomacy across the three post-incorporation presidencies, ending in 2020.

In the last two decades the Soviet Union has definitively entered the age of television. Although a Petersburg engineer allegedly “laid the foundation of television” (by designing the cathode ray tube!) as far back as the beginning of the century, and a Russian engineer in Uzbekistan reportedly transmitted the image of a human face in 1928, the Soviets lagged well behind the Western world in the development of the new medium through the 1950s. In 1960, however, the Central Committee of the Communist party declared that “television, along with the press and radio broadcasting, is called upon to play an important role in the education of Soviet people in the spirit of communist principles [ideinost'] and morality, of intransigence toward bourgeois ideology and morality, [and] in the mobilization of the workers …. “ Thereafter, Soviet television progressed at a rapid rate. Between 1961 and 1975, the number of television receivers in the country increased more than eleven-fold. The enormous Ostankino Center in Moscow was built to serve as the main production and transmission base, and a network of cables, relay stations and earth satellites was established to carry broadcasts to the far corners of the Union.

This paper examines the history of the restoration, or more accurately, reconstruction of Bagrati Cathedral in western Georgia. Constructed in 1003, Bagrati Cathedral is an important cultural monument in the political and architectural history of Georgia. Destroyed by an explosion in 1691, the cathedral was inscribed on UNESCO's World Heritage List in 1994 in its ruined state. However, the Georgian government under President Mikheil Saakashvili and Georgian Orthodox Church (GOC) officials made the reconstruction and reconsecration of the cathedral a priority. The reconstruction of Bagrati Cathedral, completed in September 2012, brought the differing aims of Georgian politicians, GOC officials, and architectural historians – the major players in the process – into sharp focus. This paper maintains that the rebuilding of Bagrati Cathedral was part of Saakashvili's political agenda, which merged with the interests of the GOC and worked against the objectives of architectural historians and the aims of academic principles of restoration and preservation. The result is that Bagrati has been rebuilt but is under threat of removal from the World Heritage List. The story of Bagrati's reconstruction has implications for the future of monument preservation and restoration in Georgia.

This article presents the case of the Suwałki Triangle region on the current Polish-Lithuanian border to demonstrate how local activists developed a “multicultural” interpretation of social relations to counter previously dominant nationalist narratives. It then contrasts this interpretation with a “decoloniality” framework to illustrate the limits of the multicultural approach. Decoloniality, developed by Walter Mignolo to theorize about Latin American historical experiences, finds continued hierarchies in the apparently plural social landscape, situates identity as a fluid response to these hierarchies, and privileges voices that are “delinked” from them. Decoloniality may explain the complex borderland identifications of the Suwałki Triangle – and potentially other territorialized communities – better than multiculturalism.

One of the distinct characteristics of the 1932–1933 famine is that between 65 and 80 percent of all famine-related deaths (direct losses) in rural areas of Soviet Ukraine (UkrSSR) and its oblasts and some regions of the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic (RSFSR) occurred during the first six or seven months of 1933, and that in all oblasts of UkrSSR and some regions of RSFSR the number of famine losses increased by a factor of six to 15 between January and June–July of 1933. The historical explanation of this sudden explosion of deaths is critically examined, and a more comprehensive explanation is proposed. We show that the regional variations in these increases in losses are correlated with four factors: extensive household searches for grain with all food taken away in many instances, closing of inter-republic borders and limitation of internal travel by peasants, resistance to collectivization and grain requisitions and repressions, and the “nationality factor.” Analysis of the monthly dynamics of rural losses during the first half of 1933 suggests a possible independent confirmation of the hypothesis that during the searches for “hidden” or “stolen” grain, all food was taken away in many households.

After first outlining the notion of anti-Semitism, the predominant survey method used for researching it, and the history of the presence and the current (near) absence of Jews in Poland, this article gives the results of different surveys of various kinds of anti-Semitism in this country, including the authors’ own, and discusses the findings of their qualitative study – focus group interviews with members of three different Catholic communities from three different cities. The qualitative study confirmed the hypothesis that imagined and stereotypical rather than real Jews are the objects of modern anti-Semitism in Poland, while real historical and stereotypically perceived Jews are the objects of its religious and post-Holocaust variants. The roots of religious anti-Semitism lie in the not entirely absorbed teachings of the Catholic Church on the Jewish deicide charge. Religious anti-Semitism supports modern and post-Holocaust kinds of anti-Semitism. Modern anti-Semitism is rooted in poor education, lack of interest in the Jewish history of Poland, lack of inter-group contact, and persisting stereotypes of Jews. Among the various Catholic communities of Poles, there are considerable differences in attitudes to Jews. The qualitative study also revealed a methodological deficiency in the standard survey questions intended to measure anti-Semitism, which are sometimes understood as questions about facts rather than about opinions.

The establishment of the Nemzeti Casino (National Casino) in Pest helped establish civil society in nineteenth-century Hungary. Count István Széchenyi, hoping to modernize Hungary on the English model, established the casino in 1827 as a public forum for the Hungarian nobility. By transcending caste divisions between nobles and bourgeois elites, Széchenyi's casino served as an unofficial parliament and stock exchange, and generally helped cultivate Hungarian patriotism. The Pest Casino inspired a nation-wide trend for casinos, which in turn formed a civil society in opposition to Habsburg absolutism. Yet when the casino movement spread to Hungary's minority nationalities, Jews, Slovaks, Romanians, and particularly Croats, the casino also contributed to national divisions in Hungary's ethnically diverse population that affected the course of the 1848 Revolution.

Scholars of nation-building and secession tend to prioritize elite or broader nationalist activism when explaining the proliferation of nation-states. Yet, recent historical research reveals a major finding: the influence of great powers tended to eclipse nationalist mobilization for new states in Latin America, the Balkans, Anatolia, and Central and Eastern Europe. Drawing on recent trends in historical research largely unknown in other fields, this article examines context, timing, and event sequencing to provide a new approach to multi-case research on nation-state proliferation. Major power recognition of new states in the Balkans also emerges as transformational for the post-World War I replacement of dynastic empires with nation-states in Europe. These findings suggest a shift of focus to the interplay of nationalist activism and great power policy for explaining the spread of nation-states.

Across Europe and North America, political leaders and elites use ethnoreligious appeals based on white supremacist ideology with increasing success. Yet this rhetoric frequently includes positive references to Jews and Israel. What explains this pivot away from the historic reliance on the so-called “nefarious, menacing Jew”? Rather than interpret the transformation of the white supremacist Jewish trope as an ideological shift, this article demonstrates that the transformation reflects a mainstreaming of white supremacist discourse. More specifically, as white supremacist discourse increasingly finds a home in successful nativist political parties, framing Jews as a religion rather than a race sidesteps hurdles to attracting votes. Second, positive references to Israel rather than Jews demonstrates the evolution of an identitarian strand within white supremacy rather than a de-escalation of racist ideology. A comparison of the German AfD and the American Republican Party, two parties that increasingly employ white supremacist rhetoric alongside pro- Jewish rhetoric, illustrates the phenomenon. Within a larger political context, the de-racializing of Jews in white supremacist discourse reflects a shift in twenty-first century nativism from a preoccupation with race and nationality, to a focus on civilizational, cultural, and religious identities.

Changing through the Ages

Over different historical periods the Estonian economy has exhibited quite a different character in terms of its international context. To be more specific, we can mention the medieval flourishing of the free Hanseatic towns of northern Europe when Tallinn and other Estonian Hanseatic centers played an important role in trade between the east (Novgorod) and the west (basically towns of northern Germany and the Netherlands). Later, after an intervening period when Estonia was part of the Swedish Kingdom, it evolved as a western region of Tsarist Russia with its own specificity, somewhat different from the rest of Russia.