The Czech philosopher Tomáš G. Masaryk was a scholar and nation-builder; the Romanian historian Nicolae Iorga was a scholar and nation-builder; the Ukrainian historian Mykhailo Hrushevs'kyi was a scholar and nation-builder; Paul Robert Magocsi is a scholar but not a nation-builder. Unlike the first three distinguished figures, the North American Magocsi never lived in any country among any people that was in need of being “built.” At best he may be considered an advocate or a promoter of a nationality; that is, a people in search of a distinct identity recognizable to themselves and to others.

Providing support to “civil society” in the form of funding to non-governmental organizations (NGOs) became a central aspect of development engagement in Kyrgyzstan and other post-socialist countries in the 1990s, seen as a means of ensuring “good governance,” promoting participation, and providing a safety net of sorts to those who were left vulnerable by the market reforms that followed the collapse of Communism. Since then, donor engagement in Kyrgyzstan has led to the development of a thriving NGO sector, taken to embody “civil society” and to be a sign of the country's democratization, in comparison to its neighbors. However, this sector is dependent on support from international donors, and faces increasing hostility for supposedly representing outside interests, rather than effectively addressing the needs of the Kyrgyzstani population. This is particularly the case in regard to work on women's rights and gender equality. Based on interviews with 16 self-described activists working on gender issues, this paper explores what it is like to “do” gender activism in this practical and discursive environment. For my respondents, activity in the NGO sector emerges as not only a process that goes far beyond the straightforward implementation of donor agendas, but also one that does not necessarily “fit” with dominant understandings of what constitutes civil society activism.

In 1929–1934 Galician intellectuals who emigrated to Soviet Ukraine from abroad were subject to mass repression. This article demonstrates how the party and the Soviet secret police discredited and eliminated this intelligentsia. Leading party officials perceived Galicians as possessing a strong sense of national identity and internal unity, and therefore an obstacle to plans for homogenizing Soviet Ukraine. The research draws on Ukrainian periodicals published in the early 1930s, on files relating to two major group criminal cases that were conducted in the early 1930s and that are now available to scholars in the Security Service archives of Ukraine (the former Soviet secret police archives), and on recent scholarship in the field. The archival evidence demonstrates that the cases were fabricated and the charges against Galicians were constructed as part of a planned “anti-nationalist” campaign.

Introduction

The Estonian Rural Center Party (ERCP) was established on April 7, 1990. It is participating in the international network of centrist parties and political movements (INC).

The role of social media as a tool of mobilization, communication, and organization of social movements has been well documented since the Arab Spring. The public information posted on social media sites also presents researchers with a unique tool to study protests movements from within. The proposed study utilizes the theoretical foundation of issue framing literature and examines the social media framing of the Ukrainian Euromaidan protest movement. The original dataset traces the activities of the users on the social media site Facebook from 21 November 2013 to February 2014. While foreign media sources portrayed the Ukrainian crisis as a geopolitical struggle, the results of our analysis show that the participants of the protest conceptualized their movement in terms of domestic issues and an anti-regime revolution rather than a geopolitical crossroad between the EU and Russia. This study contributes to our understanding of the role social media sites play in the activities of protest movements, such as Euromaidan. Furthermore, it highlights the importance of social media as a tool of issue framing on par with the traditional sources of framing such as mass media and political elites.

King Alexander's dictatorship in Yugoslavia (proclaimed in January 1929) was an expression of a real political need for consolidation in the country; however, in essence, it was an autocratic and repressive regime. More decisive moves toward a return of democracy did not occur, even later, after the replacement of his regime in June 1935. The political methods in the internal political life followed the pattern from the first half of the 1930s to the very eve of World War II. Such a situation also defined the relationship between the Slovenes and Yugoslavia. Slovene politics continued to look at the state from two angles – a unitary/centralist angle on the one hand and an autonomist/federalist angle on the other. Both camps (as well as other Yugoslav political players), however, failed to create an environment that would enable truly democratic compromises. The state was stuck at a “standstill,” but in spite of all its flaws, in the view of the Slovene political groups it represented the most suitable environment for the political and national life of Slovenes. Any serious political calculations that would go beyond this framework hardly existed.

On December 1, 1918, as Regent Alexander proclaimed the creation of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes, the latter entered the new state under pressure from manifold motives. Besides the desire for Slavonic solidarity, there was also a more prosaic need that made them take that step. Following the disintegration of the Habsburg monarchy, in which they had lived for centuries, they emerged in the international political arena completely alone and inexperienced “as political children.” They had no borders confirmed by history, and no army apart from a handful of volunteers. For a neighbor, they had victorious Italy with the London Treaty in its pocket, in which the Great Powers promised it a large portion of Slovene territory for its participation in the war. The only power which it was possible to rely upon at that moment was Serbia, which, in turn, dictated its own conditions for the unification. The future state was to become a monarchy under a Karadjordjevich dynasty and was to be centrally structured, irrespective of the ethnic and historical distinctions among various “tribes” making up the new state. The fact that the three constituent entities of the Kingdom were lowered to the level of tribes is clearly indicative: it proclaimed the belief in the existence of a single South-Slavic nation which, although cleft into three branches by events in the past, was to reach its initial unity again, in line with the principle: one state, one nation.

The concept of “Western Ukraine” is not entirely a static one. As a valid unit of historical analysis it first appears in the late eighteenth century, when the Habsburg monarchy added Galicia (1772) and Bukovina (occupied 1774, annexed 1787) to its collection of territories; already part of the collection was the Ukrainian-inhabited region of Transcarpathia (depending on how one counts, it had been Habsburg since as early as 1526 or as late as the early eighteenth century). Of course, one can also read back certain features unifying Western Ukraine prior to the 1770s, such as the culturally formative influence on all three regions of the medieval Rus’ principality, later kingdom, of Galicia and Volhynia, as well as the presence of the Carpathian mountains, which was much more than a matter of mere geology (hence the Russophiles’ preferred name for Western Ukraine—Carpathian Rus'). Still, in the centuries prior to their incorporation into the Habsburg monarchy, the three regions had experienced such disparate political histories—Galicia as part of Poland, Bukovina of Moldavia, and Transcarpathia of Hungary—that there is little validity in treating them then as a historical unit.

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.