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The article shows that three phases can be identified in the process of the emergence of the modern Polish nation: 1) the post-partition phase, i.e., Romanticism, which was based on the tradition of noble identity (1795–1863); 2) the phase of redefinition of the Polish political nation towards a “triune” nature (1864–1869); 3) the phase of flourishing nationalism (1890–1918). Based on this thesis, the article uses analysis of Lithuanian historiography to show what influence the Polish national project had in each phase in the process of formation of a modern Lithuanian nation. The article concludes that the positive influence of the Polish national project, which also inspired other nations, is noticeable in the first two phases of the development of the modern nation. In the first phase, Polish Romanticism, a romantic version of the Polish nation, had the greatest impact on the crystallisation of the national-cultural interests of these societies, specifically on the production of distinguishing national-cultural features (books, publications on ethnographic themes, folklore, history etc.). The idea of the statehood of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, on which the Polish national project was based until the January Uprising, was very important for Lithuanians. After the January Uprising, when the dominant choice of the nation was based on the nationalist principle and political forces formed on this basis prevailed, the Polish national project rivalled the Lithuanian one. Tensions grew in the early twentieth century, when the Lithuanian national movement formed independent political objectives in relation to the Polish project. During the First World War, this led to open conflict between Lithuanians and Poles.
After the Second World War, the situation of synagogues in Hungary was unique compared to other countries in Central and Eastern Europe. While in Poland, Czechoslovakia or Germany a large number of synagogues were demolished, in Hungary – with the exception of a few cases – such destruction did not take place. Nevertheless, as a result of the demographic catastrophe caused by the Holocaust and the ensuing internal migration and emigration, most of the synagogues in the countryside were gradually abandoned and fell into disrepair. After the 1956 revolution, the National Association of Hungarian Israelites, for various reasons (such as economic considerations, political pressure, etc.), decided in the 1960s and 1970s to sell some 60–70 synagogues to the state or local companies. The authorities then used either the building or the land, intentionally or unintentionally erasing the memory of the once thriving Jewish community. Thus, the transfer of ownership of synagogues during the Kádár era became a widespread phenomenon and even a general policy in the interaction between the state and Jewish representatives. The problem of abandoned synagogues has been on the agenda in Hungary ever since, and various attempts have been made to address the issue over the past seven decades. Based on archival material and oral history interviews, this paper outlines the historical context in which the sale of synagogues took place and analyses how the policy of dealing with the material heritage of the former Jewish communities during the Kádár era and since has been shaped as an act of remembrance.
The Jewish Community of Szeged, Hungary, has a rich cultural and historical heritage dating back two centuries. Like most Jewish cities in Europe, much of Szeged’s Jewish population was destroyed in the Holocaust. It was the main deportation centre for Csongrád County (southern Hungarian settlements) and parts of current northern Serbia (Bačka region). It was also the main deportation centre for southern Hungary. At the end of June 1944, three trains departed from Szeged, deporting the Jewish population from this city and the surrounding villages, totalling 8,617 people in only three days. Approximately half of the deportees were taken to Auschwitz, where most were killed upon arrival; partly unintentionally, the other half ended up at the Strasshof Labour Camp near Vienna, where most people survived. This resulted in Szeged’s Jewry having an exceptionally high rate of survival (an estimated 60%), including children and the elderly. What was the nature of the relationship between Jewish survivors and their non-Jewish neighbours upon their return to Szeged, and what factors contributed to the development of these relationships? What were the experiences of Jewish survivors in attempting to retrieve their confiscated property, and what factors facilitated or hindered their efforts? How did Jewish survivors cope with the challenges of rebuilding their lives in Szeged after the war, and what role did their relationships with non-Jewish neighbours play in this process? The proposed paper presents and analyses the survivors’ fates upon their return to Szeged and their relationships with their non-Jewish neighbours. These narratives include the non-Jewish local population’s reaction to the return of Jews, accounts of attempts to recover looted property, and the depiction of life in Szeged immediately after the war.
This article explores the Holocaust, German Karaite Policy, and Jewish–Karaite relations in Melitopol’ region during the Nazi occupation. The author uses unpublished sources from Ukrainian, Israeli, German, and Lithuanians archives, as well as oral history testimonies from his private collection to demonstrate that Jews in Melitopol’ were murdered by the Germans and their collaborators throughout the entire period of occupation, with the culmination of this policy occurring in the first days of the Wehrmacht’s arrival in Melitopol’. The property of the murdered Jews was confiscated by the local administration and handed over to the German army. Jews who concealed their nationality and went into hiding in Melitopol’ or nearby villages were persecuted by the Germans and their collaborators throughout the entire period of occupation. Local Karaite activists, with the support of local self-government officials, managed to convince the employees of SK 10A that the local Karaites had nothing in common with the Jews and were in fact a Turkic people professing “their own religion”. Close examination of the archival materials reveals that the Karaite narrative in Melitopol’ had already fallen under the strong influence of Karaite Turkic nationalism in the pre-war period. Within this narrative, there was an attempt to eliminate any Jewish elements from the everyday culture of local Karaites. The Holocaust is mentioned in this narrative only in general terms, most often in the context of the fact that the Germans sought to eliminate the Karaites, but the latter managed to convince the former that they were a separate ethnic group altogether. The research demonstrates that the subject of the Holocaust is practically absent from the postwar trials of collaborators in Melitopol’, as evidenced by the trials of members of the local self-government, Andrei Putov and Vasilii Perepletchikov. The documents prove that representatives of the Melitopol’ local administration participated in the looting of Jewish property after the first mass executions. However, the role of the local government in the first and bloodiest Aktion remains unclear. The Ilarion Kurylo (Krymchak) trial highlights the role that members of the rural self-government played in not only the persecution but also the rescue of Jews, as well as attempts to influence the local administration of OUN (b) and OUN (m).
The national question in the Soviet Union was one of the main topics of discussion between Polish and Russian émigrés in the late 1940s and early 1950s. Polish and Russian émigré circles’ attitudes towards Promethean peoples, described by the Russians as separatist, were key to the political concepts promoted by these circles. Both émigré groups sought to win each other over to their point of view and vied with each other for influence with the political elite in the US. After the Second World War, the Russian side presented a number of collaboration proposals to Polish political circles, seeking to draw the Poles away from both the pursuit of the Intermarium idea and collaboration with subjugated nations. In my article, I argue that the dominant anti-imperialist stance in Polish politics and the growing support for Ukraine’s independence after the war influenced the thinking of Russian democrats. As a result, and also because of international developments, the Russians were forced to modify their political programmes. From 1918, Russian émigré circles moved from questioning the very existence of subjugated nations to recognising their cultural distinctiveness and (in the case of some socialists) acknowledging their right to determine their fate through plebiscites. The Poles’ promotion of the idea of freedom for “Promethean” peoples also undermined the one-dimensionality of the American (and not only American) view of the Russian problem, dominated as it was by the Russian narrative. Drawing on an analysis of the activities of the most influential Polish and Russian political circles, I answer several crucial questions: How did these two émigré groups influence American politics? Was the Polish side’s refusal to cooperate with the Russians relevant to the development of the cause of the subjugated nations? Finally, how did the Poles contribute to the spread among Russian émigrés of the idea of the independence of Promethean nations?  
Władysław Sikorski’s visit to the Soviet Union in 1941 was one of the most important events in relations between the Polish government-in-exile and the Kremlin. Soviet diplomats prepared for the arrival of this Polish guest with great care. This was demonstrated by a special memorandum prepared on General Sikorski by the Fourth European Department of the People’s Commissariat for Foreign Affairs for their superiors, tracking his whole life and emphasising his anti-Piłsudski and anti-German stance. The deputy head of the Soviet diplomatic apparatus, Andrey Vyshinsky, shouldered the burden of contacts with Poles on behalf of the foreign affairs ministry. The Polish side did not manage to use Sikorski’s visit to ensure that the Soviets fulfilled their commitments resulting from bilateral pacts signed in summer 1941: accelerating the process of freeing Polish citizens from jails, gulags and special settlement areas; employing all those fit for military service to form an army; redeployment of the army being formed to areas where it would be easier to obtain British provisioning aid; and evacuation of 15,000–20,000 soldiers to the United Kingdom and Egypt. The Soviet dictator, Joseph Stalin, was personally involved in hosting General Sikorski as this was a very important visit to him. This was expressed in the granting of loans to Poland to organise an army in the Soviet Union and aid for Polish citizens, as well as a number of minor concessions. A declaration on friendship and mutual support was ceremonially signed. The Soviet side ensured that Sikorski’s visit was publicised in the press and on the radio, even filming the more important events for propaganda purposes. His radio address was translated into many foreign languages. This was important for Stalin, who exploited the visit of this Polish guest to reduce anti-Soviet moods, not only among Poles living in the Soviet Union, but also among Soviet citizens mindful of the scale of repressions in the 1930s. In reality, the alliance with Poland, including the formation of a Polish army in the Soviets, had been a burden on Stalin from the outset. However, Sikorski’s visit at a time of particular danger to the further existence of the Soviet state suited him well. Hence the hypothesis that the Soviet dictator treated his Polish partner as the titular “ally for show”, both for his own citizens and for international opinion.
The article is an attempt to observe the evolution of the role of the Soviet factor in British-Czechoslovak relations during the Second World War. In the months  preceding and at the beginning of the war, its influence was barely noticeable. The USSR then acted as an ally of Germany. Only in August 1940 did the FO note attempts to establish cooperation between the Soviet government and the Czechoslovak Provisional Government. From the fall of 1940, contacts were developed between the Soviet and Czechoslovak intelligence services. The role of the Soviet factor in Czechoslovak policy began to grow rapidly from the summer of 1941 – the entry of the USSR into the war with Germany and Moscow's full recognition of the Czechoslovak government in exile. The USSR's position on this matter forced Great Britain to similarly recognize the Czechoslovak authorities. Since then on, the Soviet factor as a lever for achieving political goals in relations with the British was used permanently and on an increasing scale by Czechoslovak diplomacy. Moscow's support (this time ineffectively) was also used to force the British to recognize the pre-Munich borders of the ČSR and the so-called ʺRevocation of Munichʺ – thus recognizing the invalidity and illegality of the Munich Agreements of 1938 from the very beginning of their existence. London observed with concern the decline of Czechoslovak diplomacy into the position of a Soviet vassal, especially clearly visible in the  forced abandonment of its plans for federation with Poland demanding by Kremlin. From these positions, the FO opposed Beneš's visit to Moscow, which was expected already in April 1943 and which threatened to deepen Poland's isolation after the Soviet authorities broke off relations with it. Beneš tried to discredit the opinions about the Soviet invader policy and eventually paid a visit to Moscow and led to the signing of the Czechoslovak-Soviet alliance agreement, but only in December 1943. From that moment on, ČSR was perceived on the Thames as a country in the Soviet sphere of influence and the structures of the Czechoslovak authorities in exile were considered to be infiltrated by communists – and therefore by Moscow. When withdrawing its opposition to the Czechoslovak-Soviet Treaty, the British government simply drew pragmatic conclusions from the fact that the Red Army, as an ally in the war with Germany, was a fundamental factor in bringing about the defeat of the Third Reich and as such was needed by London, and from the belief that then the Soviets will occupy the Czechoslovak lands and in any case they will have a huge influence on the decision regarding them. This belief also largely determined the British activity towards the uprising in Slovakia in 1944 and Prague in 1945. It was considered that this was a ­Soviet zone of military responsibility and only occasionally any military activity was undertaken there, encountering reluctance from the Soviet side. The title of a voluntary vassal of the USSR permanently stuck to the Czechoslovak government in exile. This situation strengthened the FO's tendency to reduce interest in Czechoslovak affairs. Beneš's capitulation to the occupation and annexation of Transcarpathian Ruthenia to the USSR confirmed, in the eyes of the FO, the thesis that the Czechoslovak authorities were subordinated to Stalin's orders. This became fully visible after the ČSR authorities returned to the country via Moscow, where the government was reconstructed, giving most of the influence to the communists. Attempts to persuade the Americans to outdo Soviet troops in taking Prague, as well as hopes of maintaining British influence in post-war Czechoslovakia, turned out to be in vain.
The article touches on a concept that was in the very essence of imagining relations between Ukraine and Russia: “The Friendship of People.” The historical imagination had a tangible impact on Russian politics, and no political concept has ever been so damaging for Ukraine as this one. This concept undermined Ukraine’s subjectivity and led to the “rewriting” of Ukrainian history. Monuments dedicated to the “friendship” of these two peoples reveal the centrality of this notion in Soviet politics toward Ukraine. Notably, these monuments appeared only in Ukraine – there are none in Russia. The article analyses the erection of these monuments and how they have been dealt with since the start of the Russian war in Ukraine in 2014. It also shows how monumental art is used to foster specific interpretations of the past to define the present and future, and how this particular story of monuments and narratives has always been problematic in Ukraine. The article questions the homogeneity of Soviet political monumental heritage, presenting the complexity of monuments that depict national and Soviet narratives. These monuments and their interpretations should be discussed in the framework of a political campaign aimed at tying Ukraine to Russia. Therefore, the Ukrainian perspective on the notion of “friendship” and its memorialization is fundamental.
This conversation between Igor Janke and Jakub Kumoch is an important source for research into the beginning of the Russian–Ukrainian war and the role of Polish diplomacy in the winter and spring of 2022. After all, it is not often that direct participants in high-level international talks share their memories of key historical moments, along with many important details and observations, less than a year after the events themselves. This is what Jakub Kumoch does – and he does it in a colourful way. A Polish political scientist and diplomat who has served as Poland's ambassador to Switzerland, Turkey and other countries, Kumoch was State Secretary for International Affairs in the Chancellery of the President of the Republic of Poland from 2021 to 2023. During this time, he was in close contact with many governments, including those of Ukraine, the United States, France and Germany. In the form of a long chat between two friends, he shared his memories of this period with Igor Janke, a well-known Polish journalist. This conversation is also extremely interesting because it vividly illustrates the thinking in Polish government circles about the challenges to regional and global security associated with Russia's war against Ukraine and the future of Polish–Ukrainian relations, including the historical dialogue.  
Alexandru Burian is a doctor of law, professor in the Department of International Law and External Economic Relations Law of Moldova State University, and pro-rector of the University of European Studies of Moldova. He is the author of more than 250 pieces of scholarly writing, including 6 monographs and 12 university textbooks in the fields of public international law, diplomatic and consular law, geopolitics, diplomatic protocol, and etiquette. In 1988–1990, he was a Senior Scientific Assistant in the International Department of the Central Committee (CC) of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union (CPSU), and Senior Researcher in the International Relations Department, Institute of Marxism–Leninism of the CPSU CC (Moscow). In 1990–1994, he was a Member of Parliament of the Republic of Moldova. In 1993–1994, he was the Chairman of the Commission for International Relations, and the head of the Moldovan parliamentary delegation to PACE. In 1994–1995, he was Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Republic of Moldova. Burian was the head of Moldovan government delegations in negotiations with Iran, Cuba, China, Romania, Russia, Italy, Mexico, Peru, Bolivia, Argentina, and Malta. In 1995–1997, he was the Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary of the Republic of Moldova to the Federal Republic of Germany, the Kingdom of Spain, and the Kingdom of Denmark. In 2002–2003, Burian was the Head of the Protocol Sector of the Parliament of the Republic of Moldova. In 2005–2009, he was the Director of the Institute of History, State and Law at the Academy of Sciences of Moldova. 
International relations suffer from a plethora of pseudo-theoretical approaches. Some of these approaches claim the right not only to explain but also to shape the international reality. These will quite often become instrumental in the legitimization of a given state’s policies. Nuances, caveats, and an awareness of limitations give way to simplicity, unambiguity and self-confidence. The aim of this article is to critically deconstruct certain ways of thinking about inter-state relations and international policy that are usually attributed to advocates of geopolitics and naïve realism. What makes vague but attractive geopolitical jargon, belief in determinism, enchantment with maps and admiration for the ‘concert of powers’ so popular, and what consequences might the adoption of geopolitical assumptions have for contemporary political practice? The popular mono-causal approaches that are full of hasty but firm generalizations about the laws of history have the upper hand over pluralist ones that look for a multitude of usually inconclusive explanations. The reason for this might not simply be analytical laziness; the fact is that the aforementioned popular, simplistic, even trivial observations dressed in quasi-scientific costume serve as a convenient source of legitimacy for revisionist leaders who wish to be seen as defenders of the status quo. Keywords: geopolitics, determinism, concert of powers, maps, legitimization