This article examines the origins of the nonviolent resistance movement in Kosovo in the early 1990s, with the purpose of explaining the dynamics that led to the emergence of the so-called “parallel state” of Kosovo Albanians.

Die Geschichte der deutsch-ukrainischen Beziehungen seit dem Ersten Weltkrieg ist nicht unkompliziert. Mit der deutschen Unkenntnis über die Ukraine paarten sich vom Militär und dem Auswärtigen Amt vertretene Ausbeutungsabsichten, die nur wenig verstellt eine Kolonisierung der Ukraine anstrebten. Ihnen standen bei denselben Instanzen Pläne zur Revolutionierung (und Ausschaltung) des Russischen Reiches zur Seite. Politische Kreise hofften auf eine Mithilfe der “Randvölker” dabei und gewannen deren Nationalisten als Verbündete. Aber ebensowenig wie Alfred Rosenberg im Zweiten Weltkrieg von altruistischen Erwägungen geleitet war, wurde hier auch nur für einen Augenblick der Primat des Eigennutzes außer acht gelassen. Mit den Parteigängern der ukrainischen Selbständigkeit kämpfte zudem auch die “russische Schule” des Otto Hoetzsch, die gemeinsame Interessen der starken Großmächte Rußland und Deutschland postulierte.

David Brandenberger argues that contemporary Russian identity was mainly a result of a “historical accident.” He maintains that this national identity was a product of the twentieth century rather than the nineteenth, which is more commonly cited, and that in terms of the state formulating a conception of what it meant to be Russian, the first decade of the Soviet period achieved little. However, by the late 1920s Soviet ideologists began to seek something more appealing than the mundane party slogans and eventually added non-proletarian, historical Russian heroes to the Soviet pantheon, particularly after the purges when the latter group was sorely depleted. This campaign was largely successful in inducing an understanding of national identity from a non-proletarian past as is evident today. He perceives this process as the formation of a Soviet populism, designed to mobilize society “on the mass level” and compares Stalin's USSR with Latin American dictatorships in this regard. Stalin, he argues, “was an authoritarian populist rather than a nationalist.” By 1953, Russians had a much better idea about their identity than in the period before 1937.

After Slovakia and the Czech lands separated in 1993, concerns arose regarding Slovakia's ethnic Hungarian, or Magyar, minority. There were concerns about the Slovak government's attitude toward its considerable Magyar population as well as worries about the Hungarian government's stance regarding Magyars in Slovakia and the Slovak-Hungarian border. Frequently over the past decade, the topic of the Hungarian minority in Slovakia has been manipulated by politicians. In both Slovakia and Hungary, Slovak and Hungarian politicians alike have tried to expose “injustices” or “excesses” for political gain. Indeed, the maneuvering of national politicians might lead one to perceive that the reality of contemporary Slovak-Magyar relations was tenuous and acrimonious. But politics aside, what does the average Slovak think of the Magyar minority and Magyar-Slovak relations generally? To what extent do the political debates encompass their actual concerns and deeply held views?

After the collapse of communism in Russia, which is the home of more than 14 million Muslims, there has been an Islamic revival that has been part of the process of political and intellectual liberalization of society. The major Islamic enclaves of the Russian Federation are located in the Volga-Urals, the North Caucasus, and central Russia. Russian Muslims are concentrated in the eight autonomous republics of Tatarstan, Bashkortostan, Adyghea, Kabardino-Balkaria, Karachay-Cherkessia, Ingushetia, Dagestan, and Chechnya. Most Muslims belong to the Hanafi madhhab (the juridical school) of Sunni Islam, although Dagestani and Chechen Muslims adhere to the Shafii madhhab of Sunni Islam. There is also a small Shia community in southern Dagestan. A large number of Dagestanis, as well as Chechens and Ingushes, profess Sufism—a mystical form of Islam, which is also known as parallel Islam.

This article examines the impact of nationalism theory, and specifically the theory of national awakening, on Kurdish historiography. Kurdish experts cite several famous nationalism theorists, but seem most impressed by Anthony Smith's model of a singular transformation in which a not-yet-national community becomes a proper nation. Kurdish experts do not always use Smith's terminology, however, and often invoke other scholars in support of the singular transformation model. Kurdish historiography disagrees what the singular transformation entails, and different thresholds of nationalism imply wildly different dates for the birth of Kurdish nationalism. Stage theories of national awakening have had little impact, and ought to be reconsidered.

If those interested in Soviet affairs were to confine their reading to the official Soviet press, they would perhaps conclude that all is quiet behind the Soviet front. However since a large body of underground literature has reached the West in recent years, observers have learned of numerous protest activities against the Soviet regime by various groups in the USSR. We know, for example, that liberal intellectuals are criticizing the Soviet leadership for its rigid control over the literary and scientific life of the country. Various religious groups are protesting against the closure of churches, imprisonment of believers, and restrictions on baptisms, proselyting, and religious instruction of the young. Similarly, certain members of national minorities are demanding more linguistic, educational, and cultural autonomy for their nations. Some of these minority nationalities, such as the Jews, Volga Germans, and Meskhi, have formed repatriation movements in order to obtain permission to settle in those areas which they regard as their homelands.

The collapse of the three great multi-national and multi-ethnic empires—the Czarist Russian, the Ottoman Turkish and the Austro-Hungarian—was an immediate consequence of World War I and the ensuing revolutions. Of these three, only the empire of the Habsburgs was really considered to be an integral part of nineteenth-century European developments. Although historians and contemporaries may have questioned its modernity and viability, few would have challenged its credentials as part of Europe. Yet its demise was rooted—as for the other empires—in the unresolved nationality questions which still bedevil the region in our own time.

The relationship between Orthodox Christianity and national identity has been one of the most contended issues in modern nationalism. The dominant religion in the Balkans, Orthodoxy has transported the identity of ethnic groups into the modern era and political leaders have employed religious institutions according to their own political agendas in the construction of “imagined communities.” Orthodoxy has a particular perception of the political field. Based on the concept of symphonia, which dates back to the Byzantine Empire, the Church claims that religious and political offices are equal and have similar responsibilities. Religious and political rulers have the mission to guide the people and the Church and state should collaborate harmoniously in fostering identity. Political leaders refer to the nationalist discourse of the Church in order to induce national cohesion. From this perspective, the relationship between religion and the construction of the nation in the Orthodox space differs from that in the Catholic or Protestant world where Churches are supranational or sub-national institutions.

Worldwide, ethnopolitics takes on various shapes. Yet, while politics involving ethnicity can be either conflictual, competitive, or cooperative, analysts typically focus either on instances of conflict or ignore the multiethnicity of states by sticking to “the comfortable integrationist presumptions of the 1950s.” All too rarely does one find analyses of policies that work in difficult situations. This global trend is intensified in the case of Eastern Europe. As this region has suffered instances of ethnic politics gone wrong—most recently in the former Yugoslavia—many analysts assume that constructive approaches to ethnic relations are impossible, even though they are needed more than ever. Here, I outline a model of ethnopolitics which is both democratic and constructive, has been used in East Central Europe in the past, and has potential for the future. In presenting the case for ethnopluralism, I outline a promising alternative to ethnic conflict or neglect.