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.

This article covers the preconditions, causes, and consequences of the famine of 1921–1923 and of the Holodomor of 1932–1933. Significant attention is paid to the geography and scale of the famine. For the first time in the historiography of the famine of 1921–1923, a thorough assessment is conducted of the demographic loss of population for Ukraine as a whole, seven oblasts, and the Moldova Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic (ASSR). A comparative analysis of the research results of the 1921–1923 famine and the Holodomor of 1932–1933 is presented. The discussion consists of three parts. The first part addresses the famine of 1921–1923. It examines the historico-political and economic context of the famine, its scale, and its uneven effect on different parts of the country. Special attention is paid to the sanitary-epidemiological situation which was closely tied to the famine itself. The second part is devoted to the Holodomor of 1932–1933. A comparative analysis of losses during the famines of 1921–1923 and 1932–1933 is presented in the third part.

China’s most prominent dissident, the late Liu Xiaobo, criticized the Chinese Communist Party’s efforts “to promote what he considered a toxic mixture of traditional culture and modern patriotism.” He worried more about “a mentality of world domination” characterized by a “thuggish outlook.” Quoted in Orville Schell and John Delury’s (2013) book Wealth and Power, this statement reveals the culmination of some 150 years of nation-building, which now encapsulates what is probably the strongest and potentially most explosive primordial nationalism in the region since Imperial Japan. This article examines the sources of Chinese nationalism and gauges the extent to which Chinese nationalism contributes to cooperation or confrontation in China’s foreign relations.

This article analyzes Hungary’s kin-state policy starting from the premise that the concept of collective narcissism most succinctly captures its emotional foundations. I look to substantiate this claim by examining at a wide range of sources on how Hungary feels toward neighboring states and show the preponderance of emotions connected to collective narcissism. The real-life consequences of collective narcissism are demonstrated through a case study of the relationship between Hungary and Ukraine before and after the Russian attack of 2022. Overall, I find that anger is the master emotion of Hungary’s kin-state policy, resulting in a lack of solidarity and characteristic self-centeredness in Hungary’s foreign policy, which cannot be explained by rational factors alone.

The COVID-19 pandemic was a critical event that has challenged regionalist-secessionist parties to maintain their dominance at the regional level, because it has questioned the attractiveness of the idea of independence for the electorate. Nevertheless, the results of the regional elections 2021 in Catalonia and Scotland brought about the success of regionalist parties with secessionist demands. This study analyzes regionalist parties’ strategies in the 2021 regional elections in Catalonia and Scotland, advancing our understanding of their strategic choices to get/remain in office. This study employed the Regional Manifesto project methodological approach to perform a manual content analysis of party positioning and selective emphasis. Additionally, it advances the distinction between blurring and subsuming strategies through a frame analysis of electoral campaigns. The results suggest that regionalist parties mainly use subsuming and two-dimensional strategies to gain electoral success and that the exact strategic choices depend on the structure of the competition. The research confirms the framing of territorial demands primarily in socioeconomic rather than political terms, as proposed by the FraTerr Project. However, regionalist parties have avoided radicalizing their social demands owing to the influence of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Legal narratives about collective violence have given an outsized explanatory role to propaganda in conflicts such as the Rwandan genocide and the Yugoslav Wars. While post-conflict ethnographies have examined what Rwandans remember about propaganda and collective violence, similar studies have not been undertaken in territories of the former Yugoslavia. The present ethnographic study fills this gap. After introducing the theoretical and empirical problems that have stemmed from recent speech crime trials in international criminal law, I examine the causes of collective violence in the Yugoslav Wars as remembered by former combatants, survivors, and the greater populations of post-conflict regions in Bosnia-Herzegovina, Croatia, and Serbia. I show that remembered causes, including the role of propaganda, vary significantly between former combatants and the greater populations. Nevertheless, local perspectives, especially among former combatants and survivors, converge on the effects of populist movements following Yugoslavia’s economic crisis and the rise of ethnic, religious, and nationalist leaders who engaged in inflammatory rhetoric and misinformation to mobilize war efforts. This article thus corroborates key findings from other post-conflict ethnographies which show that propaganda plays a secondary but significant role in the cultural manufacturing of state-sponsored ethnicity and cultural logics of violence.

Long live the constitution! Long live the republic! Long live the people! Perish the nobility and the rank of the czar!

Nationalism in the East has long been considered to be different from nationalism in the West. Although Hans Kohn's famous dichotomy has been challenged, it still determines the way most people look at Eastern nationalism. Nationalism in the East is seen as authoritarian, ethnic and cultural in contrast to the democratic, civic and political nationalism of the West. According to the common view, Western nationalism is based on modern liberal, constitutional ideas, which makes it democratic, while Eastern nationalism is based on cultural belonging, which makes it conservative or regressive and hostile to foreign influence.

The population of the North Adriatic area has always been linguistically mixed. Slovene, Croatian and Italian populations have lived here for 14 centuries; German people moved here in the period of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries the city of Trieste became the official harbor of the Empire, and, as a consequence, the town grew, attracting others immigrants: Greeks, Jews, Serbs, and so on. Linguistically three main groups lived in Trieste: German, Italian and Slovene speakers. The Slovenes in Trieste owned many important activities, such as banks and trading companies. They were organized in the fields of education and culture with their own theater, private schools, library, daily newspaper and magazines. The Slovenes in Trieste also had their own political movement electing some representatives to the Parliament in Vienna. On the whole, they were considered a very well organized linguistic group. The Italians in Trieste were similarly well organized, and many supported a strong irredentist movement, economical and political organizations, as well as the theater. The German speakers were mostly immigrants who had moved to Trieste for business reasons or as civil servants.

In the administrative usage of the Soviet Union, the category “minor peoples of the North” embraced 26 ethnic groups of the North and the Far East. According to 1989 data, the populations of these groups ranged from 179 to 34,190 and together totaled 181,500. In addition to being small in numbers, the common denominators of the groups include a northern location and dependence on such sources of livelihood as hunting, reindeer herding, and fishing. Furthermore, some of these peoples remain nomadic or semi-nomadic.

This article asks why a popular bar named after a criminal Soviet secret police organization has not provoked the outrage of the developed world's intellectual and artistic elites, who would surely condemn an SS Bar. It attributes this moral blindness to the Holocaust's centrality in Israeli, German, and American national discourse and the resultant binary morality that ascribes collective innocence to all Jews at all times and in all places and collective guilt to all Germans – and potentially to all non-Jews – at all times and in all places. The moral logic of the Holocaust thus transforms Jews into victims and non-Jews into victimizers; the moral logic and reality of the Gulag transform everybody into both victim and victimizer. The binary morality of the Holocaust insists that all human beings be heroes; the fuzzy morality of the Gulag recognizes that all humans are just humans constantly confronted by moral ambiguity. But because the Gulag's moral ambiguity concerns non-Jews and Jews, the Gulag undercuts binary morality. The Holocaust and the Gulag are not just incompatible moral tales; they are incompatible and intersecting moral tales. As a result, they cannot co-exist. We therefore fail to respond to the KGB Bar because to recognize the Gulag as a mass murder worthy of categorical moral condemnation would be to challenge the sacred status of the Holocaust. Ironically, the KGB Bar is possible precisely because an SS Bar is impossible.

The Karaites are a schismatic Jewish sect which severed itself from the Babylonian Jewish community in the eighth century of the Common Era. The Karaites contended that the Rabbinites, the adherents to the Rabbinic tradition of Judaism, had perverted the Torah (Pentateuch) by superseding it with the Talmud (the compendium of the oral tradition of Jewish law). As a result of this theological argument, the Karaites adopted a fundamentalist approach to scriptural exegesis. The two groups differed in such areas as: observance of religious laws, the order of prayers, dietary laws and determining the dates of Jewish holidays.

The conventional distinction between Soviet and Western uses of the term democracy juxtaposes socioeconomic against political considerations— that is, for the former the stress is upon social equality and economic security, whereas for the latter it is upon civil liberty and political freedom. The tone and character of the Bolshevik approach to institutions which in the West are associated with liberal, parliamentary democracy can best be captured in the words of Lenin himself:

Before the 1980s one hardly spoke of any significant social movements in the Baltic republics. Political apathy, bordering on hopelessness, as far as the masses were concerned, and an emphasized apoliticism of the intelligentsia, whose members never tired of stressing that their only concerns are professional, cultural, maybe aesthetic, but not at all political—that was the social situation in the Baltic states most of the time under Soviet rule.

This overall image of apathy, complacency, and acquiescence was, however, not entirely correct. Underneath there were many things happening, as very few Balts indeed were total conformists and total loyalists of the Soviet regime. Most of them were, rather, “conservationists.” That is a special term I use for people outwardly loyal to the Soviet system, working within that system, trying to comply with the rules of the system, but at the same time using whatever position in the system they have to preserve their nation's economic, cultural, and historical heritage. They were trying especially hard to safeguard their nation's economic well-being, ecological situation and, of course, spiritual identity and heritage, by promoting art, literature and other activities, mainly under the slogan “national in form and socialist in content,” but more and more national in form and less and less socialist in content, as far as the circumstances allowed it. These people wore the disguise of Soviet loyalism for the benefit and the advantage of their own nation; that was the attitude I call conservationism in the Baltic states and that was the attitude that was prevalent among most native Balts.

For most North Americans demography is an esoteric subject more often tied to marketing than to social and political changes. In Latvia, as in most of Eastern Europe and the USSR, demography has long been placed on the forefront of public attention. This wave of attention in the case of Latvia is not a fad of short duration which will be readily displaced by other popular topics. On the contrary, demography has had, is having and will have a tremendous impact on a very broad range of policies and on the long term survival of the Latvian nation. Thus, in order to understand the social and ethnic tensions, the labour squeeze, and the welfare burden of Latvia, it is necessary to understand the multifaceted demographic processes: the real matrix of the political and social environment. This paper reviews the pivotal demographic role of the First and Second World Wars and analyzes population size, sex balance, age structure, urban-rural residence, nuptiality, birth and death rates, migration patterns and ethnic balance.

In early 1983 I concluded my book on Iu. V. Andropov with the prediction: “This is how Andropov's country will advance toward its own 1984 which hopefully will not correspond to Orwell's description.” Scarcely one year later the Soviet Union did actually enter 1984 — both in the chronological and in the profounder sense — but without Andropov. And it probably happened against Andropov's desires and expectations.

The fate of the Hungarian minority in Romania is closely linked to the political situation in that country, its economic development, and its geopolitical location. This was the case before 1989 and remains so today. On the other hand, the Hungarians of Romania are an important factor affecting the internal and the external political relations of the country. This was dramatically confirmed by the revolution of 1989 which had been triggered by ethnic unrest. This study will focus on major political and economic developments from December 1989 until December 1993, analyzing them in terms of their impact on the Hungarian minority.

Among social psychologists, there has long been a debate over the concept of the stereotype. Are stereotypes meant mainly for consumption by an in-group or are they designed by and for curious outsiders? Are they primarily individual or collective? Are they benign generalizations and categories that make it easier for individuals or groups to perceive and organize the world around them? Or are they insipid and unsustainable generalizations, based on false information, exaggeration, unfairly rigid conceptual categories, or even the observer's laziness? Do they beget understanding or prejudice? These questions, many of which were first raised by Walter Lippmann when he published Public Opinion in 1922, still polarize the psychological profession today. They also continue to confound politicians who wish to construct coherent, distinct, and vibrant identities for their nations.

A world in which every nation has become a state, that is, a world in which cultural and political units coincide, would be a very different world from the one we know. There are now close to 200 political units recognized as states in the international system. Nations, understood as cultural units, are not as easily identified. Taking only language as a defining criterion, one could count some 6,000 linguistically defined groups. Many of these groups number so few speakers and are so close to extinction that their future can be discounted. If one turns to other cultural markers, however, from religion (or church) and ethnicity, in the sense of common origins, to “a shared style of expression,” the number of cultural groups may well be almost unlimited. Many such groups would call themselves “nations” as a dignified form of self-designation.

In 1994, after the enactment of Hungary's Minority Rights legislation (herein the Act), representatives from India rather than Roma themselves were invited to represent the Roma at the signing ceremony, against the request of Roma leaders. During an interview in August 2000, former member of Parliament and Roma leader Aladar Horvath describes the events this way: