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When the Cold War came to a sudden end thirty years ago, the two halves of the continent declared in unison their intention to overcome the legacy of the division. Eastern Europeans appeared eager to ritually condemn, if not to critically examine, their recent past and were especially keen on asserting and proving their ‘Europeanness.’ Westerners, too, hoped to see the countries of the former Eastern bloc transformed and potentially absorbed into an enlarged and ever deeper project of political integration. Mutual ignorance and deep-seated misperceptions seemed a temporary hindrance on the path towards the unification of the continent.
After 1989, the conviction became common that the Cold War had been an anomaly. The Iron Curtain may have enforced a perception of stark differences between the two halves of the continent, and may even have turned such differences into a fact for more than a generation, but the distinction between East and West was said to be little more than a symbolic construct. It was repeatedly asserted that the boundary separating the two halves of the continent was fluid, negotiable, and subject to deconstruction. Yet the integration projects launched during the early postwar decades, which despite being restricted to one side of the Iron Curtain made increasing claims to represent Europe as a whole, drew on long-standing traditions in western European thought that marginalized and even excluded the experiences of the continent’s eastern half. And it was similarly overlooked that structural differences between various macro-regions of Europe had a history stretching back much further than the Cold War.
If the integration of an enlarged Europe was to stand any chance of success in the post-Cold War period, a more inclusive narrative of the recent past and a more equitable present was required. Not only was, as post-colonial authors asserted, a thorough decolonization of the dominant Eurocentric visions of the world called for after centuries of colonialism. Also, as critical scholars from eastern Europe noted, a simultaneous de-provincialization of western Europe needed to accompany European unification in order to avoid reproducing developmental-civilizational hierarchies and stigmatizations within the continent.
The hopes and ambitions of those heady days for a fast and successful merging of Europe’s East and West can today be viewed as unrealistic at best. The financial and economic crisis of 2008 led to a crisis of the eurozone, which – beyond painfully reopening a North-South divide – halted or may even have reversed the process of economic convergence in the East. The increasing confrontation between Russia and the West in recent years has challenged Europeans’ confidence in a peaceful future. The global revival of authoritarianism has engulfed several eastern European states, including EU members, while xenophobic forces and nationalist politicians enjoy growing support across the continent.
The past decade of crisis and turmoil appears to have frustrated the great expectations of the turn of the millennia for a free, borderless and social Europe. With the elevation of controversial projects in the eastern member states to models for their western counterparts (an unexpected reversal in the transfer of political ideas and styles), the possibility of convergence between Europe’s two halves is increasingly perceived as a threat rather than a promise. These trends make it all the more urgent to ask what happened to the legacy of the East-West division in the three decades since the end of the Cold War and the implosion of the communist regimes.
How have the perceptions and misperceptions between the two halves of the continent changed since 1989? Is it justified to talk of a new East–West divide? If so, how can one characterize it and why has it re-emerged? Conversely, how have hopes of overcoming the divide been met over the past three decades?
Together with its Slovene partner journal Razpotja, Eurozine is posing these timely questions to a host of prominent intellectuals, who share their insights and assessments in the essays here. We will be continuing the conversation through further contributions throughout the year. We wish you a stimulating read.
Luka Lisjak Gabrijelčič, Razpotja
Ferenc Laczó, Maastricht University
How we mark historical anniversaries says as much, if not more about our perception of the present as it does about the past. This familiar axiom has interesting results when we apply it to how the revolutions of ’89 have been remembered in each decade since.
The perpetual transition in eastern Europe has led to the spread of an angst-ridden politics. While the derailing of imported western institutions calls into question the project of Europeanization, transnational solidarity remains possible and necessary.
Clear ideological differences between East and West may be long gone. But recently solidarity itself seems to have become a thing of the past too. Public debate in Europe is now riven by a new volatile set of polemics about the European Union, the memory of the Holocaust and of communist crimes, nationalism and multiculturalism.
There is a certain type of post-Soviet anxiety that manifests itself in fear of state authorities, border controls or even doormen. The memory of 1989 may have largely faded, but the feeling of being ‘eastern’ has stayed with many – not least those who have built up lives and careers in the West, writes Júlia Sonnevend.
Born in the ’80s in eastern Europe, I grew up among unkept promises which everybody refused to be accountable for. We were told we were going to be free, and later this alleged freedom was used as an argument to shut us up when criticizing political misrepresentation.
The legacy of division: Editorial
East and West after 1989
When the Cold War came to a sudden end thirty years ago, the two halves of Europe declared in unison their intention to overcome the legacy of the division. Today, the hopes and ambitions of those heady days can be viewed as unrealistic at best. But is talk of a new East–West divide justified?
Just because the map says so, doesn’t mean it’s true
Thirty years after 1989, from an island perspective
The workings of western capitalism were almost as unknown in the Eastern Bloc as the everyday realities of ‘real socialism’ were among western Trotskyists. Then, after ’89, eastern Europe disappeared off the political map of the left. Nowhere was this more so than in Britain, writes Owen Hatherley.
With the fall of the Berlin Wall, the unification of Germany, and the EU’s enlargement, the East-West divide has lost its meaning. Moreover, post-communist countries have been more vigilant in keeping their accounts in order than many of their western European partners. So why not put the ghosts of communism to rest and build a united Europe?
The comeback of ethnocentric populism is disquieting, but does not necessarily mean the end of the liberal engagement the revolutions of 1989 inaugurated. It may as well be a short-lived return of repressed emotions and phobias, an effect of the disenchantment that follows almost every revolution.
As of this year, Germany has been united for a longer time than the Wall and its barbed wire stood. Yet despite 30 years of the Solidarpakt, social differences have not been evened out as hoped, and the division is tangible in political leanings as well.
Instead of overcoming the division of East and West after 1989, the West embarked on a programme of expansion and Russia began to create an alternative world order. Yet as economic power shifts from the Atlantic to the Pacific basin, this is just one aspect of the current clash of world orders.
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