In Osteuropa, Polish literary historian Przemysław Czapliński returns to Milan Kundera’s 1983 essay ‘A kidnapped West: The tragedy of central Europe’, which ‘had a similar impact for Central Europe as Francis Fukuyama’s The End of History had for international politics’.
Indeed, Kundera’s vision of a Central Europe united with the West though a shared cultural tradition seemed to have been realized in 2004, when Poland, Hungary, Czechia and Slovakia were admitted into the European Union. That all four have ‘slipped back into a pre-democratic stage under nationalist right-wing governments should give us pause’.
Part of the problem was Kundera’s ‘negligent mapping’ – his decision to define Central Europe not as the totality of states under Soviet domination. He saw Poland, Hungary, Czechoslovakia as embodying the European ideal of ‘maximum diversity in a minimum of space’ as well as an idea of culture as ‘social bond’ and ‘expression of communal aspirations’.

But by ‘defining European identity on the basis of an ‘authentic culture’ – rather than on European Union norms such as ‘the language of law’ and ‘adherence to democratic processes’ – Kundera gave the members of his Central European triumvirate license to internalize an image of themselves as ‘more European than Europeans’.
In recent years this attitude has curdled into a chauvinistic condescension vis-à-vis the EU. Hungary’s Viktor Orbán routinely invokes the ‘moral superiority’ of Hungarians over the ‘decadent West’ while the former Polish President Andrzej Duda has called the EU an ‘imaginary community of little significance for Poland’. In the name of a ‘true Europeanism’, emboldened demagogues ‘speak manipulatively of sovereignty in order to avoid applying European laws’ and ‘strive for a position of maximum benefits with minimum responsibility in the EU’.
Helsinki’s legacy
As young Slovak dissident, the Helsinki Accords seemed to Martin M. Simecka merely to cement the status quo. He was proven wrong. Fifty years later, however, it is clear that the power of the declaration was confined to its historical moment.
‘In 1975, an international declaration was signed that opened up space for dissidents in eastern Europe who, thanks to their imagination, were able to use it effectively. The moment in history in which we live today also requires the imagination of those who care about democracy. But the essence of imagination lies in coming up with something new. Old formulas no longer work; the past cannot be repeated.’
Latvia’s demographic suicide
Investigative journalist Maria Kugel reports on Latvia’s slow-motion demographic suicide. Having lost a fifth of its population over the past twenty years owing to a stubbornly low birthrate and high levels of emigration, it has nevertheless adopted one of the European Union’s harshest stances on immigration.
‘In Latvia, an absolute majority of the population views immigration as a threat to national identity’, writes Kugel. Not only was the country ethnically homogenous up until independence in 1991, it was also forced to accept around seven hundred thousand Russian immigrants during Soviet occupation. Recently, the tense geopolitical situation in the wake of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has engendered a cynical attitude in which potential asylum-seekers are seen as pawns in Russia’s (and Belarus’s) campaign to undermine Latvia’s sovereignty.
Though Latvia has taken in only a handful of asylum-seekers over the years – a mere 713 from 1998 to 2024, according to Kugel – a strident xenophobia characterizes the national discourse around immigration. The state of emergency declared in 2021 after a large group of mostly Iraqi and Afghani refugees attempted to enter from Belarus was soon codified into law, making it possible for the authorities to introduce a ‘tightened border regime’ at the merest provocation.
The few to have been granted residency face daunting challenges. ‘The authorities tend to hinder integration rather than promote it’, writes Kugel. For example, though Latvian society places a premium on acquiring competence in Lettish, the native tongue, demand for language courses far outstrips supply. Kugel cites this as a leading reason why the vast majority of foreign students studying at Latvian universities have no plans to stay in the country after graduation, exacerbating the country’s drastic shortage of skilled workers.
Unwilling to integrate the ‘right’ people, the Latvian government recently complained in an open letter that the European Convention on Human Rights is hindering its ability to expel ‘the wrong people’ – only accelerating the demographic death spiral.
Russia’s policing problem
Pseudonymous author Kurt Haven describes the parlous state of Russia’s national police force in an era of wartime mobilization and in the wake of massive bureaucratic reform.
In 2011, the national criminal police force was centralized under the umbrella of the Interior Ministry, Russia’s largest non-civilian authority. In terms of investigative priority-setting, this led to a loss of regional autonomy and meant that policemen could be called upon to assist the Federal Security Service (FSB), Russia’s domestic-security apparatus, as well as other organs of domestic political repression.
The restructuring has also spawned a hierarchical system in which superiors are held personally responsible for the conduct of their subordinates, a dynamic that has incentivized the hushing-up of abuses. And ‘if corruption or excessive violence does come to light … the superior will deny his orders and blame the incident on his subordinates, presenting it as a one-off incident for which he cannot be held responsible’.
The constant need for reinforcements for the war in Ukraine has been something of a bonanza for chronically underpaid policemen. Instead of sending convicted criminals to prison, they can pack them off to the front instead, thereby earning a commission.
Although the 2011 reforms did increase policemen’s pay, the job is still unattractive. Veteran investigators have been quitting in droves, and as a result the entire country suffers. Into the breach have stepped young women, who make up the majority of new hires, lured by the generous maternity-leave allowance. Most, however, leave the service before long.