This paper explores the development of the German minority community in Postcommunist Poland, focusing specifically upon the Opole Silesia voivodship. I argue that the minority's successful engagement within democratic fora at all spatial scales allowed the minority to voice its concerns and secure funds to develop its community infrastructure. However, as the 1990s progressed, the minority's ability to manipulate a politics of scale declined as the policy objectives of key allies were achieved or reformulated. Furthermore, the changing contours of the minority–majority relationship within Poland have exposed significant cleavages within the minority, bringing into question the continued relevance of the German minority political party for the constituency it claims to represent.

Although there is indisputable evidence of hostile perceptions, the gulf between ethnic groups has not yet caused any substantial violence between Turks and Bulgarians. Compared not only with former Yugoslavia but also with Romania, this must be upheld as a genuine success story in the endeavor to cope with ethnic tensions in post-Communist Eastern Europe. (Wolfgang Hoepken)

The fall of communist regimes and the breakup of the multinational Soviet and Yugoslav states produced a remarkable experiment in regime change. Twenty-eight old, new and revived states emerged. While most adopted democratic institutions, many others evolved new variants of authoritarian rule. Some new democracies maintained much higher standards in upholding formal democratic rules and complementary freedoms of the press and political organization. How is this variation in initial democratization to be explained? Among countries that initially adopted democracy, how is variation in the survival and development of democratic freedoms to be explained?

Troeshchyna is a down-at-the-heels late Soviet moonscape that happens to be located on the fringe of Kyiv, though it is indistinguishable from hundreds of other socialist neighborhoods built in the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s anywhere between Berlin and Beijing. This Brezhnev-era district has almost no distinguishing features other than the Ukrainian capital's most robust and scraggly markets. Walk by one of Troeshchyna's neighborhood elementary schools, such as School 247, and something looks not quite appropriate for this part of the world. The school's playground will be chock full of kids from countries and cultures not traditionally associated with the central Dniepr, including children from Afghanistan, Angola, Korea, Mongolia and Vietnam.

In a world of presumed nation-states nation has been, and still is, an intrinsic part of political legitimization. The claim of nationality has played an important role in such legitimization for the last two centuries. More than this, it has also constituted a fundamental collective entity for an individual's understanding of who they are in relation to those who are perceived as not sharing the nationality. This is nothing new, but in an era of globalization we are witnessing the rebirth of nationalism and nationality (Castells, 1997), where the power struggle over the political agenda will increasingly be about the struggle for the right to identity and the risks of exclusion from the national community. Even if this is the case it stands clear that everyday nationalism and nationalist struggles take different forms in different parts of the world.

In the years that have passed since NATO forcibly compelled Yugoslavia to withdraw its military and police forces from Kosovo and the province was placed under U. N. guardianship, the Kosovo crisis of 1999 has been examined from a variety of angles. Although many insightful analyses have documented the horrific and deplorable events that led up to the crisis, one important factor that has received relatively short shrift is the way in which the U. S. was drawn into the conflict. In particular, it has remained overlooked that the United States, qua superpower, had a significant impact on the policy formulations of the belligerent parties. This essay is based on the proposition that the United States does not formulate policy and operate in a vacuum, but rather that the U. S. is itself a critical factor in the calculations of other actors in the international system. These actors make strategic calculations based upon their expectations of American actions and reactions. The U. S. policymaking community, on the other hand, seems to formulate policies without considering the implications of the fact that other actors might anticipate U. S. actions or even attempt to provoke a desired response.

Konrad Henlein founded the Sudeten German Heimatfront (SHF) in October 1933 and in less than a year and a half it would become the largest party in the First Czechoslovak Republic. This achievement is all the more remarkable in light of the initiative undertaken by the Czech and German Social Democrats, as well as the Communists to have the SHF banned in the year before the elections. This initiative would most likely have succeeded had the matter not been referred to Czechoslovakia's ailing President, Tomáš Masaryk. After the state had banned both the Sudeten German Nazi and Nationalist parties on account of their alleged ties to Hitler, Masaryk concluded one month before the 19 May 1935 general elections that the SHF should be allowed to campaign.1 Masaryk, however, mandated that the Heimatfront must change its name to the more democratic “Sudeten German Party” (SdP). Despite the specter of a ban that still haunted the party in the month before the election, the SdP succeeded in transforming itself from a political pariah into a majority German party by using the legal protections and security forces of Czech democracy to wage a legalistic campaign against the state. In light of this stunning success, how then did the party leadership perform this act of political alchemy and what strategies did it deploy in campaigning against the state?

The organizers of the international conference entitled “The Cultural Contexts of Kazakhstan: History and Contemporaneity,” held in Almaty between 7 and 10 September 1997, chose as the logo of their conference one of the stills from Rustam Khalfin's film Lazy Cinema (Lenivoe Kino). It was the still representing a handful of earth. The choice was far from whimsical, for, as the writer Auezkhan Kodar, one of the organizers of the conference noted, the intention was “to underline the amorphous state of contemporary culture which needs to acquire a precise shape, characteristic to Kazakhstan alone.”

The three eastern Slavic states—Russia, Ukraine and Belarus—have virtual foreign policies towards each other that are a product of weakly defined national identities inherited from the former USSR. In addition, this virtuality has been compounded by the presence of centrist, former high-ranking nomenklatura elites who have led all three countries at different times since 1992. Former “sovereign communist” centrist oligarchs are ideologically amorphous, in both the domestic and foreign policy arenas.

This article follows earlier discussions about the current status of Romani refugees and migrants within Europe and the role of human rights in the process of accession of Central European states to the European Union (EU), in the Cambridge Review of International Affairs, Volume 13, Number 2. Romani migration opens up central issues of democratisation in Eastern Europe and of the role played by the EU in shaping that process. Human rights appear to have been accorded secondary importance and were replaced by the political doctrines of accession as efforts to manage and control migration, particularly of so-called undesirable migrants, such as the Roma, have reached a hiatus. The argument offered here is that discrimination of the Roma has been defined as no more than a social problem so that governments, both East and West, can proceed with the political agenda of enlargement. To demonstrate this point, the article reviews some Czech governmental documentation related to the treatment of Roma and places it within the context of the debate around accession within the broader framework of EU harmonisation of immigration policies.

Unlike in some other former Soviet republics, when Kyrgyzstan achieved independence in 1991 its government granted citizenship to all residents, regardless of ethnicity or language. The government hoped this would help to quell incipient ethnic tensions in the country before they got out of hand. It was argued that, in a constantly changing ethnic landscape, citizens' identification with the country above all other considerations, including ethnicity and religion, would introduce a degree of stability—a common denominator for all residents of Kyrgyzstan, where there is a relatively high level of ethnic diversity (see Table 1).

In February 1944, as the victorious Red Army was preparing to clear the Nazi German forces from the rest of the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic, a surprise official announcement stunned the population. The radio and the newspapers announced amendments to the Soviet constitution, which would enable the union republics to establish their own armies and maintain diplomatic relations with foreign states. While the Kremlin did not elaborate on the reasons for such a reform, Radianska Ukraina, the republic's official newspaper, proceeded to hail the announcement as “a new step in Ukrainian state building.” Waxing lyrical, the paper wrote that “every son and every daughter of Ukraine” swelled with national pride upon learning of the new rights that had been granted to their republic. In reality, the public was confused. In Ukraine's capital, Kiev, the secret police recorded details of rumors to the effect that the USA and Great Britain had forced this reform on Stalin and that Russians living in Ukraine would be forced to assimilate or to leave the republic. Even some party-appointed propagandists erred in explaining that the change was necessitated by the fact that Ukraine's “borders have widened and [it] will become an independent state.”

A world in which every nation has become a state, that is, a world in which cultural and political units coincide, would be a very different world from the one we know. There are now close to 200 political units recognized as states in the international system. Nations, understood as cultural units, are not as easily identified. Taking only language as a defining criterion, one could count some 6,000 linguistically defined groups. Many of these groups number so few speakers and are so close to extinction that their future can be discounted. If one turns to other cultural markers, however, from religion (or church) and ethnicity, in the sense of common origins, to “a shared style of expression,” the number of cultural groups may well be almost unlimited. Many such groups would call themselves “nations” as a dignified form of self-designation.

In contrast to most other analyses of Romani migration, this article is based on a series of interviews conducted with Romani migrants which formed part of an International Organisation for Migration (IOM) survey. The survey results suggest that socioeconomic factors are an important catalyst in the emigration of Slovak Roma. After providing a background to the migrations, the article analyses the Communist regime's policy towards the Roma, and its impact on their socioeconomic status both prior to and after the changes of 1989. The authors identify a “Romani socialist-style middle class,” created primarily by these policies, which constitutes the primary group of migrants. Reasons for their migration include limited chances for personal development, a perception of being discriminated against and a lack of focus on developing local responses. Their migration signifies an attempt to escape from social exclusion. The article further considers the reasons why migration is seen as a preferable solution, and then moves on to an analysis of both Romani and majority perceptions of the migrations. The authors conclude with a set of recommendations for policy-makers and non-governmental organisations.

This article examines the criticism that we received regarding our article “Romani Migrations and EU Enlargement” which was published in Volume 13, Number 2 of the Cambridge Review of International Affairs (CRIA). In this reply we seek to clarify our position, pointing to distinctions between advocacy and policy analysis, between descriptive and normative statements, and to a need to examine not only the problems that the Roma face, but also those that their situation poses to policy-makers.

In 1994, after the enactment of Hungary's Minority Rights legislation (herein the Act), representatives from India rather than Roma themselves were invited to represent the Roma at the signing ceremony, against the request of Roma leaders. During an interview in August 2000, former member of Parliament and Roma leader Aladar Horvath describes the events this way:

In the final decades of the nineteenth century, nationality as an “ordering principle” became for the first time a significant factor for Russian imperial policy. Among the most thorny issues facing the imperial bureaucracy was the delimitation of the boundaries of the “Russian nation.” As is well known, St Petersburg never accepted either Ukrainians (at the time more often referred to as “Little Russians”) or Belarusians as separate nations. On the other hand, official Russia also did not deny the linguistic and cultural difference of these two groups entirely. Categories used in the 1897 census reflect this: under the category “mother tongue” (not surprisingly, no specific category of “nation” or “ethnicity” was included), those surveyed could respond “Great Russian,” “Little Russian,” or “Belarusian.” All three of these categories were then, however, subsumed into the larger category “Russian.” In a similar way, Russian officials never denied that Belarusians were in certain respects different from their brethren in central Russia. They did, however, indignantly reject the idea that these differences were so great as to exclude Belarusians from membership in the Russian nation.

While accounts of the end of the Ottoman and Hapsburg empires have often stressed the rise of Turkish and German nationalisms, narratives of the Romanov collapse have generally not portrayed Russian nationalism as a key factor. In fact, scholars have either stressed the weaknesses of Russian national identity in the populace or the generally pragmatic approach of the government, which, as Hans Rogger classically phrased it, “opposed all autonomous expressions of nationalism, including the Russian.” In essence, many have argued, the regime was too conservative to embrace Russian nationalism, and it most often “subordinated all forms of the concept of nationalism to the categories of dynasty and empire.”