The Soviet population comprises numerous nationalities, but there are differences of opinion as to the exact number. One author claims that there are 128 to 132 nationalities or ethnic groups living in the Soviet Union. The last official figure was issued by the Central Statistical Administration in instructions for the 1970 census. At this time the Administration, in consultation with numerous scholarly institutions, determined that 122 nationalities or ethnic groups resided in the Soviet Union. Comparable information for the 1979 census is not available in the West.

This article examines a text written 100 years ago by Stojan Novaković, a leading Serbian scholar and president of its Academy of Science. Written in a political science fiction genre, it foresees a country of united South Slavs in 2011. Yugoslavia, in the enlightened vision of Novaković, will appear and strengthen due to scientific and economic development on one hand and common culture based on a common vernacular on the other. Elite-driven unification is the only mode for South Slavs to survive facing the challenges of modernization and the territorial threats of their neighbors. Accurate in some and grossly naive in other aspects, this text is a testimony of Yugoslav ideas preceding the actual creation of the state, as shared by the most prestigious among the Serbian intellectual elites.

The multi-national composition of the interwar Polish state was one of its most serious domestic problems. The established supremacy of the Poles in all phases of national life provoked bitter resentment from most of the country's non-Polish inhabitants, who compromised over one-third of its total population. When the Polish government consistently obstructed the attempts of these ethno-religious minorities to preserve and develop their cultural identities, assure their economic well-being, and participate fully in political life, the affected groups responded with a resistance to state authority that intensified with the passing of the two decades of Polish independence. The relationship of the government to a substantial proportion of its citizens had so deteriorated that, on the eve of World War II, a virtual condition of “undeclared warfare” existed betwen the Polish state and the leading minorities. Consequently, Warsaw could not count on any meaningful support from the Ukrainians, Belorussians, or Germans residing within its borders when the Nazi attack fell on September 1, 1939, and the Soviet assault followed on September 17. Unfortunately for these three peoples, the war brought them monumental suffering and an even crueler fate than they had endured under the Polish Republic.

The classificatory efforts that accompanied the modernization of the Habsburg state inadvertently helped establish, promote, and perpetuate national categories of identification, often contrary to the intentions of the Habsburg bureaucracy. The state did not create nations, but its classification of languages made available some ethnolinguistic identity categories that nationalists used to make political claims. The institutionalization of these categories also made them more relevant, especially as nationalist movements simultaneously worked toward the same goal. Yet identification with a nation did not follow an algorithmic logic, in the beginning of the twentieth century, sometimes earlier, various nationalisms could undoubtedly mobilize large numbers of people in Austria-Hungary, but people still had agency and nationness remained contingent and situational.

My argument is that one can determine the kinds of conflicts that are likely to occur by looking at the way in which ethnic groups are placed within the work force. There is a large literature on ethnic competition that suggests that conflict is probable when groups come to compete in the same labor, housing, marriage, or other kinds of markets. This literature indicates that four conditions facilitate ethnic conflict.

This paper questions the effects of the state- and nation-building that occurred in the Kingdom of Yugoslavia during the 6 January Dictatorship (1929–1935) and points to the importance of symbols during this process. By using an ethno-symbolist approach and extending it to “banal nationalism,” the article analyzes some of the most prominent and influential symbols from within an everyday environment. Using the Croatian ethnic space as a framework, the article traces the population's attitudes toward the Yugoslav national flag and representations of King Alexander – two of the most forced symbols in the centralized Yugoslav one state and one nation concept of nation-building. The regime possessed all the mechanisms of power necessary to impose these symbols, though most Croats clearly felt no connection to them. Despite severe penalties, they opposed the regime's plans for national reconstruction of the country by displaying Croatian flags and various symbolic representations of Stjepan Radić – as a martyr of the Croatian nation. By linking this problem to specific studies that deal with the development of nationalism, this paper outlines the struggle between Yugoslavism and Croatianism through acceptance and resistance toward the Yugoslav symbolism.

Why do Balkan wars start and why do they finish? We know that in all Balkan wars there are significant internal factors, among them the various nationalities of the former Yugoslavia who are seeking to establish, consolidate or otherwise enhance their new nation states. However, one should not discount external factors present in the Balkans, such as the interests of other states, in particular imperial interests.

Soviet scholars basing themselves on the assertion in the Program of the CPSU that “peaceful coexistence of states with different social regimes does not means a diminution of the ideological struggle,” severely criticize those Western authors who in their works throw light upon the shadowy aspects of theory and practice of the ruling party in the USSR. Utterances of Western scholars which express doubt about the veracity of data contained in documents of the CPSU and the accuracy of theses and positions based on these data are rejected as totally unfounded inventions. Scholars of countries with the same social regime as in the Soviet Union are subject to no less severe attacks if they contest in their works, directly or indirectly, the theses and positions worked out by Soviet authors. While the Western scholars concerned are termed bourgeois falsifiers, the unfavored scholars (and political leaders of the socialist countries) are categorised as revisionists, a no less pejorative term in Soviet parlance: thus, for example, “the powers of international imperialism,… leaning on services of revisionists of various strains”; or “to expose contemporary bourgeois and other falsifiers of history.”

The most important issue in today's Estonia is undoubtedly everyday security in the streets and at home. As there has been an explosive growth in crime and particularly serious crime, the police often lack the resources (both time and people) to tackle petty crime which affects the man on the street most directly. Most of the serious crimes are connected with the settling of accounts among criminal gangs which can affect ordinary citizens too, since they are often accidentally caught up in such conflicts. Organized crime is directed at making new successful businessmen pay “taxes,” which in future can slow down economic activity, although this is not happening yet. Currently, part of the “successful” criminal structures try to secure positions in legal economic structures (by money laundering), and there are clear indications that at least some of them have succeeded. The main roots of organized crime are in the former Soviet Union, and insufficient border control contributes to its penetration into Estonia. The criminal gangs of the former Soviet Union are not just a problem for Estonia or the Baltics but also for the police in Central and Western Europe. Besides, the spread of organized crime may rest on structures created on the instructions and financing of the KGB, and that in certain situations these structures may serve political orders.

The aim of this essay is to present a brief overview of the treatment in post-Soviet culture and the media, especially in literature, film and publitsistika on historical themes, of certain aspects of the perennial debate about “Russia and the West.” I will ask whether the West is still regarded as Russia's “Other,” or whether, in a period when Russia has been more open to the West than ever before, and Western and Russian tastes in historical and other fiction appear to be converging, such a polar opposition can now be seen as fundamentally outdated.

The relationship between peasant and Jew in Poland has presented a complex picture of mutual dependency and ambivalent feeling for centuries. Each needed the other for economic survival, yet simultaneously they often regarded each other with suspicion, mistrust, and, occasionally, loathing and fear. Nonetheless, until the emergence of a formally organized peasant movement in the late nineteenth century, it was extremely difficult to measure the actual perceptions and attitudes the peasantry held regarding the Jews. This essays traces the evolution of the stance toward the Polish Jews adopted by the peasant movement in the independent Polish Republic between the two world wars. It notes the passage of this stance from varieties of political indifference and economic concern through a phase of overt anti-Semitism, to the final stage of de-emphasizing the “Jewish Question” as a major factor in the political program and strategy of the movement.

Shortly before the Christmas of 1860, the major bookstores in Prague put on display a German-language booklet entitled Bohemian Sketches: By a Native Writer. Although the book was published anonymously, its author soon became well known: he was Jan Palacký, the son of the prominent historian and leading Czech politician Frantis̆ek Palacký. But even his famous name did not spare the young man from stormy, harsh criticism that followed after the publication of the book. For weeks the newspapers both in Prague and in Vienna scrutinized the rhetorical nuances of the book, pointing out the author's national and political biases. Surprisingly, neither of the Czech-language newspapers, Národní listy nor C̆as, that had recently entered into the public arena, stepped forward in defense of the author. The critical response in the press raises one's curiosity: what was wrong with Jan Palacký's arguments? How could someone so closely connected with Czech national leaders write such a controversial account? Moreover, considering the censorship practices and vigilant police supervision of the time, it is also worth asking how the publication could have escaped the attention of governmental surveillance.

Although the Tuvinskaya ASSR is one of the latest and, in fact, the largest of the territorial acquisitions of the Soviet Union (its area exceeds that of all three Baltic states at 170,500 sq. kilometers), there are few, if any, detailed accounts of its annexation in 1944.