This article analyzes the ideas of Adolf Fischhof (1816–93) on the nationalities question in the Habsburg Monarchy. Throughout his career Fischhof argued that the survival of the multiethnic Habsburg polity required the strengthening of each nationality's separate consciousness as an ethno-cultural unit. In terms of the reform plan he espoused, he was perhaps more supportive of the rights of the non-German peoples of Austria than any other German liberal politician of the post-1848 era. Nevertheless, Fischhof's rationale for proposing such reforms, namely that they would lead the Monarchy's Slavs to reject the notion of ethnic kinship with Russia and instead join the civilized, European (read: German) side in its inevitable clash with barbarous Muscovite tyranny, revealed a clear belief in the supremacy of German Kultur and in a German-centered mission for the Austrian state.

This article is based on the assumption that norms can help better understand one of the expressivist aims of transitional justice, that of building a new narrative about the past. The main argument is that focus groups, as an interactive method of inquiry, are well suited to investigating how this “judicial” narrative interacts with the official and dominant war narrative in Croatia. Focus groups are more adept at this than other methodological approaches since they can effectively reflect independence of opinion; they lead to more truthful answers through spontaneity; they effectively probe taken-for-granted concepts; and they can more easily overcome distrust in post-conflict societies, especially with ex-combatants. The approach faces new challenges in such a situation since recruitment problems, insider/outsider status, and posttraumatic stress disorder, among other ethical concerns, present problems that often arise due to the group process. The powerful and unpredictable effect of the group dynamic can, therefore, provide a deep exploration of social norms, but it can also cause significant upset among participants. In this instance the methodology explores how widely accepted the war narrative is, how it is constructed, and how important the public believes it is not to question it.

In discussion of ethnic minorities in Eastern Europe, one hears regularly of appalling official misbehavior—not just about attempted genocide (though that too), but also about bureaucratic cruelties inflicted in every field of human activity and at every level of control. Nonetheless, it is always useful to have a measurable basis for assessing unfairness; and historians have the special task of inquiring rationally why and how unfairness came about. Hence the following paper, which attempts not just to condemn, but to explain and evaluate the Hungarian and Czechoslovak official treatment of the Gypsies in recent decades. As is fairly well known, this treatment has included not only harassment of populations which presently exceed 600,000 people in each country, but also (in both countries) systematic abduction of children by the state from unwilling Gypsy parents, and (in Czechoslovakia) equally systematic sterilization of Gypsy women.

Since the point of the paper is to reach beyond mere indictment, I will use a comparative method. Specifically, in recounting each stage of the development of policy towards the Gypsies I will compare what was being done to two other groups: the Jews, on the one hand, and the physically disabled on the other.

In the original plan (and original drafts) of this paper the attention was focused quite narrowly on colonial policies and the years 1878–1917. However, in the course of research and writing I became convinced that the period I chose to cover was not quite as felicitous, or convenient, as I believed it would, for unless I had access to archival material and put the primary emphasis on the bureaucratic (and mostly local) decision-making level I would not be able to carve for myself a field of research that could be presented in a comprehensible fashion. At the same time, while delving deeper and deeper into the subject, I confess that my interest shifted away from bureaucracy and its colonial policies to colonialism in the broader sense as an expression of certain cultural and demographic trends. My interest shifted because, first, I found it repeatedly difficult to distinguish between what could legitimately be labeled as policy and what was or may have been (who knows really?) merely an arbitrary decision, a momentary whim, of some guberniia or uezd potentate, or perhaps not even his but of his secretary who prepared the document and just pocketed a bribe of a few rubles in exchange for twisting the legal meaning of the decision one way or another. Second, even if I raised my focus above the local bureaucratic level, there would still not be much to chew intellectually. Poland, the Balkans, Central Asia, the Far East–yes, these were areas which attracted the attention of the more powerful minds in and outside of government and policies toward them were formulated in the context of interesting debates. But Bessarabia? Except for a few individuals who, especially at the time of its annexation, had high hopes for the role it might play in the future expansion of Russia, hardly anyone bothered with it. Why, until the turn of the century the St. Petersburg bureaucrats had a hard time even placing it on a map; they thought it was somewhere north.

During the twentieth century the region of Subcarpathia belonged to several different states: the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy, Czechoslovakia, the independent Carpatho-Ukraine, the Hungarian Kingdom, the Soviet Union and finally to Ukraine. Today it borders four member states of the European Union (Poland, the Slovak Republic, Hungary and Romania), and due to its history several ethnicities and languages, religions and cultures live side by side in this region. However, as a consequence of the different language and minority policies in Subcarpathia, we cannot find a common language that everybody knows regardless of age, gender, education, religion or place of residence. The lack of a lingua franca makes dialogue between ethnicities difficult, sometimes even impossible. In this article we outline the main features of the regional, minority and language policies of the different states that existed at the various historical stages. We believe that the in-depth analysis of the history of this region can help find a model that could be useful not only in the region but also in the wider context of similarly multinational, linguistically diverse, culturally colorful territories in the Carpathian Basin and states in East-Central Europe.

When we talk about Slovenia in Europe, we are talking about a two-way relationship: what does Slovenia mean for Europe? and, what is Slovenia's place in Europe? The first question requires an answer to an additional question: what is Europe, and where is its development leading? As part of Europe, and as a part of its system, Slovenia must also be in harmony with it or, rather, Slovenia's attributes must not be in conflict with those of Europe, otherwise Slovenia would not integrate properly. Europe could not then accept it as a composite part, for Slovenia's development would not align with the direction in which Europe is moving.