The politics of language identity have figured heavily in the history of the people of the Republic of Moldova. Indeed the region's status as a province of Russia, Romania, and then the Soviet Union over the past 200 years has consistently been justified and, at least partially, manipulated on the basis of language issues. At the center of these struggles over language and power has been the linguistic and cultural identity of the region's autochthonous ethnicity and current demographic majority, the Moldovans. In dispute is the degree to which these Moldovans are culturally, historically, and linguistically related to the other Moldovans and Romanians across the Prut River in Romania. Under imperial Russia from 1812 to 1918 and Soviet Russia from 1944 to 1991, a proto-Moldovan identity that eschewed connections to Romania and emphasized contact with Slavic peoples was promoted in the region. Meanwhile, experts from Romania and the West have regularly argued that the eastern Moldovans are indistinguishable, historically, culturally, and linguistically, from their Romanian cousins.

Kazakhstan has experienced more powerful pressures of migration unlike any other republic of the former Soviet Union. An especially great number of immigrants came to Kazakhstan during the Soviet period. Many peoples of the former Soviet Union, often against their wishes, took up residence in the republic. The recent situation in Kazakhstan is characterized by a further intensification of migratory processes. Their complicated character, both in the past and today, has, in many aspects, influenced the present-day problems of the republic.

This article proposes to look afresh at the legacies of communism in urban spaces in post-1989 Poland. Specifically, it investigates the fate of Red Army monuments and explores how these public spaces have been used in the multifaceted and multileveled process of post-communist identity formation. The article suggests that Red Army monuments constitute sites for the articulation of new narratives about the country's past and future which are no longer grounded in the fundamental division between “us” (the nation) and “them” (the supporters of communism) and which are far from being fixed in the binary opposition of the banished and the embraced past. The reorganization of public memory space does not only involve contesting the Soviet past or affirming independence traditions but is rather the outcome of multilayered processes rooted in particularities of time and space. Moreover, the article argues that the dichotomy “liberator versus occupier,” often employed as a viable analytical tool by scholars investigating the post-communist memorial landscape, impedes our understanding of the role played by Soviet war memorials in the process of re-imagining national and local communities in post-1989 Eastern Europe.

This article compares causes and mechanisms of the mass mobilizations which took place in Kyrgyzstan in 2005 and 2010. The upheavals of 2005, the so called “Tulip Revolution,” led to the ousting of President Akaev who was replaced by Kurmanbek Bakiev. In 2010, Bakiev himself had to flee the country after violent social upheavals. As this analysis shows, the causes for both series of events were similar: neopatrimonial rule and the elite's control of resources together with oppressive tactics stirred up discontent among wide parts of the population and instigated violent protest. The mechanisms of mass mobilization, however, differed considerably. While the revolution of 2005 was carried out as the concerted action of varied political forces and NGOs, which, supported by patronage networks and traditional institutions, offered material and solidary incentives for the crowds, the great mass of people who took part in the 2010 protests were spontaneously mobilized through purposive incentives when news of the killings spread through the media.

Among the most pressing tasks confronting leaders of the Central Asian states is the reconciliation of their desire to expedite legitimation of rule by reifying titular cultural paradigms with the need to construct inclusive civic modes of national self-conception. Kazakhstan is perhaps the best example from the region wherein the construction of a multicultural, inclusive homeland concept is essential to the future of the state. The poignancy of Kazakhstan's situation relates to the fact that its population consists of nearly equal numbers of titular and non-titular peoples, often living compactly in different regions of the state. Large-scale migration of predominately European ethnic minorities from Kazakhstan's territory since the late Soviet period has coupled with high birth rates among ethnic Kazakhs and the “return migration” of diasporic Kazakhs to elevate the titular community to a 53.4% majority (from 40.1 in 1989).

It is estimated that, in 1913, less than 500,000 Muslims lived in the regions ruled by Greece and around 800,000 Muslims in those areas which were under the authority of the Bulgarian state. In the aftermath of the 1923 obligatory Greco-Turkish population exchange the number of Muslims in Greece reduced to approximately 200,000, of which around 180,000 lived in the region of Western Thrace and 20–25,000 Albanian-speaking Muslims, known as Çams, in Epirus and Greek South-West Macedonia. In the same period, the number of Muslims in Bulgaria was between 800,000 and one million people. Meanwhile, during the two Balkan and the First World Wars a hardly definable number of Muslims lost their lives due to starvation, disease, massacres and physical destruction caused by the military and paramilitary troops of the two Balkan states, as well as due to voluntary and forced migration to areas controlled by the Ottoman Empire.

The spirit of environmentalism generated some of the most memorable images of the eastern and central European independence movements of the late 1980s and early 1990s. In 1988, protesters formed a human chain around the Ignalina nuclear reactor in Lithuania. That same year, thousands of Hungarians marched through downtown Budapest to rally against their government's prospective participation in the construction of a dam on the Danube River. The environmental movements in the former eastern bloc marked the beginning of the end of Soviet era communism in Europe. However, many commentators have implied that environmental protest was a proxy for other, more politically explosive grievances. Environmentalism was decisive, it is argued, because it provided a release valve for pent-up frustrations and repressed nationalistic ardor. Re-examining the independence movement in Estonia, this article contends that environmentalism was not incidental to citizens’ larger aims. The specific, environmentally destructive activities people condemned embodied many of the features of the Soviet system that people despised generally. Resource-intensive and pollution-prone projects proposed by Moscow provoked a broadly conceived environmental revolt rather than environmental protest “in name only.” The environmentally related constituents of Estonia's independence movement included citizens’ opposition to pollution of the environment and waste of natural resources; perceived “mindlessness” of industrial policy in Estonia; the promise of new Russian-speaking immigrants to work in environmentally unfriendly industries; and economic exploitation of natural resources in Estonia for the benefit of other Soviet republics, especially the Russian RSFSR.

This article surveys the official narrative on representation of Estonian identity and Estonianness through the tourism strategy implemented by Estonia from 2007 to 2015. Gathering material from brochures and documents targeting foreigners produced by the Estonian Institute and “Enterprise Estonia” (EAS) and analyzing the logic behind the interior design of Tallinn Airport, we engage with current debates on identity construction in post-Soviet spaces. In particular, we suggest that along with an established body of literature looking at the role of state actors in the construction of identity, studies should consider the role of nontraditional or non-state actors in identifying and promoting identity markers.

Freedom from the Soviet empire created an opportunity for elites of each former Soviet Socialist Republic to “nationalize” their newly independent state. Most observers of contemporary Kazakh politics would agree that Kazakhstan has taken advantage of this historic opportunity, and can thus be classified as a nationalizing state. For Rogers Brubaker, a nationalizing state is perceived by its elites as a nation-state of and for a particular nation, but simultaneously as an “incomplete” or “unrealized” nation-state. To resolve this problem of incompleteness and to counteract perceived discrimination, Brubaker argues, “nationalizing elites urge and undertake action to promote the language, culture, demographic preponderance, economic flourishing, or political hegemony of the core ethnocultural nation.” While the foundation of any Soviet successor state's nationalization program is a cluster of implemented formal policies that privilege the titular nation, these policies are often reinforced by informal practices, primarily discriminatory personnel practices, with the same function. Much has been written about Kazakhstan's nationalization strategy, and not surprisingly scholars rely on what they know about formal policies and informal practices to characterize that strategy. Little has been written, however, about the “Pugachev Rebellion” in Ust'-Kamenogorsk, Kazakhstan, and nothing has been written about the relationship between the official Kazakh reaction to what I call the “Pugachev incident,” and Kazakhstan's nationalization strategy in general. This article sorts out confusing events surrounding the Pugachev incident, and offers an interpretation of the official Kazakh reaction, which is best understood when situated in the broader context of Kazakh nationalization, to the incident.

Early commentators on the newly independent Belarusian state of the 1990s indicated that there was something lacking in Belarusian identity. The people did not seem to respond powerfully to the new symbols of the state, use of the national language intermingled with Russian, and economic concerns appeared to trump popular concerns with promoting Belarusian language or culture. Other former Soviet states were embracing ethnic national ideals, and as such, many assumed that Belarus should follow a similar path. However, as an examination of the history of the Belarusian territory demonstrates, a national ideal based on ethnicity was problematic in Belarusian society, and as such, the ethnic notions of Belarusian identity forwarded by some Belarusian elites failed to appeal to the masses. Instead, Belarus seems better suited to a more inclusive civic identity than an exclusive ethnic one. This research examines the nature of contemporary Belarusian identity, with particular attention to the civic versus ethnic aspects of that identity. We argue that although Belarusian identity is obviously in flux and subject to heavy debate, it is currently demonstrating more civic aspects than ethnic ones. This finding is based on original survey data obtained in Belarus in 2009 and 2010.

The Pussy Riot story is clearly a story the West wanted to hear. Western journalists, politicians, and celebrities were unanimously inspired by the youthfulness and rebellion of courageous Russian feminists. Their life experience perfectly resonates with the core of these young women's messages. For Russians, however, even for those who share the most liberal values, it is not so simple. Public polls and several months of heated debates have shown that virtually everyone in this deeply conservative country has struggled to make sense of the Pussy Riot performance. So, what do Westerners not understand about Russia and what are the problems of translating feminism(s) into different cultural contexts? How does feminist protest deprived of its roots function here, and why do women in Russia not understand that Pussy Riot's story personally concerns all of them? This essay outlines the difference between Russian and Western readings of the Pussy Riot performance and, using the case of public response in Russia, contemplates the reasons for the failure of feminism in this part of the world.

South Tyrol (Italy), with its three officially recognized language groups (Germans, Italians and Ladins), is a successful model of how a minority problem can be solved. It is based upon the principle of dissociative conflict resolution, which means separating the language groups as much as possible between themselves, as well as the principle of consociational democracy, which focuses primarily on the cooperation between the language groups’ elites. In the last few years it has been observed that while the institutional frame has not changed, society has, thereby starting to undermine the existing political and institutional system from below. This concerns mainly the ethnic division, which is being questioned more and more by civil society, as well as aspects of cooperation between the elites. As a consequence of this process, South Tyrol's autonomy is moving toward further integration, with the latter again translating into strengthening the two factors of territoriality and identity.

As is generally known, the contemporary demographic situation in Estonia is fundamentally different from that of the prewar period. The autochthonous minorities who lived in the prewar Estonian Republic—Germans, Jews, Swedes, Finns, but also native Russians (living in the northern and southern areas of the Peipsi lake)—were lost after World War II together with a change of Estonia's eastern border by Soviet authorities in 1945. This left Estonia a very homogeneous country where Estonians formed some 97% of the population and where the entire population was made up of Estonian-speakers.

The European Parliament (EP) adopted, between 2004 and 2009, a series of resolutions calling for recognition of Communist crimes and commemoration of their victims. This article focuses on an overlooked aspect of anti-Communist activism, the awareness-raising activities carried out by some Central European Members of the European Parliament (MEPs) to perpetuate the cause through networks that enable them to exchange institutional credibility, scientific legitimacy, and policy-oriented knowledge with Institutes of National Memory, parts of academia, and victims associations. Although they use the techniques of expertise and scandalization that are often effective in European institutions, these memory entrepreneurs have largely failed to further their claims in the European Union (EU) after 2009. In line with the turn toward “practice” in EU studies and the increased attention paid to agency in memory politics, this article contends that the conditions of production of their narrative of indictment of Communism accounts for this relative lack of success. Because their demands produced a strong polarization inside the EP while colliding with established Western patterns of remembrance, these MEPs’ reach remains limited to their Conservative peers from the former Eastern bloc. This weak national and ideological representativeness hinders their capacity to impose their vision of the socialist period in the European political space.

Germany's role as a kin-state of ethnic German minorities in Central and Eastern Europe stems from a number of factors. At one level it is part and parcel of a unique historical legacy. It is also inextricably linked with the country's foreign policy towards this region. The most profound policy that the Federal Republic of Germany developed in this context after the early 1960s was Ostpolitik, which contributed significantly to the peaceful end of the Cold War, but has remained relevant thereafter despite a fundamentally changed geopolitical context, as Germany remains a kin-state for hundreds of thousands of ethnic Germans across Central and Eastern Europe, particularly in the former Soviet Union, in Poland, Romania, and Hungary. As such, a policy towards these external minorities continues to form a significant, but by no means the only, manifestation of Ostpolitik.

Introduction

Among the nationalist revolutions that spread across Eastern Europe in the late 1980s and early 1990s, Latvia seceded from the Soviet Union through a relatively benign process marked by the virtual absence of violent conflict. Several issues were conflated in this movement. Latvia's independence was about democracy, historical redress, and national autonomy. Yet, each of these areas included an ethnic component. Would a Latvian democracy make room for Russians? Would Latvians seek revenge against Russians for the Soviet annexation of the Baltic republics? In the event of conflict between Moscow and Riga, whom would Russophone residents of Latvia support? The demographic situation of Latvia—featuring a near balance of Latvians and mostly Russophone non-Latvians at the time of independence—suggested the potential for ethnic conflict. The forecast of conflict, though, oversimplified the roles that ethnicity and national identity play in affecting political actions. The potential for conflict was predicated on the assumption that individuals naturally identify primarily with others within their ethnic group and act competitively against members of the ethnic “other.” The fact, then, that Latvians and Russians did not clash violently during Latvia's “Singing Revolution” begs the question why inter-ethnic conflict did not occur in this case. This article explains this lack of conflict by focusing on the formation of Latvian identity in the period immediately preceding independence. I argue that individuals in nationalizing states intentionally act with reference to their national identity, and this sense of national identity is not some fixed, exogenous variable. Instead, it is socially constructed. We cannot hope to explain ethnic conflict processes without first understanding the factors that drive ethnic and national identity during chaotic times of change.

This article situates the development of the kin-state politics literature within the context of post-Cold War scholarship on ethnicity, nationalism, and conflict. It outlines how an increasingly mature literature emerged around the domestic political and foreign policy drivers of kin-state politics as scholars drew from a number of perspectives, from the literature on irredentism to that on diaspora politics and transborder nationalism. The article then evaluates scholarship on the drivers and impacts of kin-state politics, with a focus on the consequences of kin-state politics for the cultural and political landscape of external kin communities and the impact on regional security and stability. While a rich and nuanced literature has helped to contextualize the tensions and complexities of the former, I argue that the latter needs to be developed further. Careful work needs to be done to more precisely establish the conditions under which kin-state politics constitute a security threat. Future scholarship should bring together a more ground level perspective of how kin-state policies are perceived, utilized, and/or instrumentalized by their intended subjects with a critical understanding of how the “game” of kin-state politics is played within the home state and the kin-state.

The article analyzes, from a historical and institutional perspective, the sociopolitical cleavages existing between ethnic Macedonians and ethnic Albanians in the Republic of North Macedonia. Although primarily ethnic, the division between the two groups is deeply connected to state ownership and the official status each group occupies and wishes to occupy in it. By scrutinizing both groups’ claims, standpoints, and dissatisfactions, the article asserts that the implementation of consociationalism in 2001, through the de facto institutionalization of ethnicity, has partly soothed both groups’ frustrations, using the pragmatic exploitation of the existing ethnic divide as a proxy for “state sharing” in addition to power sharing.

This article focuses on problems of the national movement of the Circassians – a small nation in the Caucasus, most of whose population is dispersed all over the world. The paper researches the development of the Circassian movement from 1989–2000 and its contemporary structure since 2005. The modern Circassian movement as a whole has never been approached from a political science viewpoint. This research aims to answer several core questions: What are the different strands of the movement? What principles are they based on? Who are the participants? What political forces support them? How do these political forces interact with each other?

The article explores the “fear of Islam” through a specific series of political debates about Islam and the future of the Greek-Orthodox national identity. The analysis is based on the method of qualitative content analysis, which makes use of thematic categories and draws on the proceedings of the Greek parliament. The main questions the article will try to address are: How have Greek political parties reacted to public demand for the construction of a mosque? What have been the rhetorical tropes they use? How have they capitalized on current and old fears about Islam? What have been the implications of this discourse on state policies toward Islam? Have there been any differences in this discourse over time? The analysis highlights the role of historical interpretations of Greek national identity and contemporary problems related to new waves of migration due to Greece's place on the border with Turkey and with the broader Islamic world.