The Collapse of the Bipolar World and the New Identity in Eastern Europe and Its Sub-Regions

I.

The bipolar division of Europe refers to a geopolitical situation in which the continent is divided into two dominant ideological, political, economic, and military blocs. The most classic example of this phenomenon occurred during the Cold War, when Europe was split into a Western bloc and an Eastern bloc. The Western bloc, centered around the United States and North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), was characterized by liberal democracy, a market economy, and integration within institutions such as the European Union. In contrast, the Eastern Bloc, dominated by the Soviet Union, consisted of communist countries in Central and Eastern Europe, subordinated to Marxist-Leninist ideology and integrated into structures like the Warsaw Pact and the Council for Mutual Economic Assistance (COMECON).

This division was not only political but also cultural and social, reflecting deep differences in the perception of freedom, individual rights, economics, and international relations. Today, the idea of a bipolar division of Europe resurfaces in discussions about the re-emerging tensions between the West and Russia. Central and Eastern European (CEE) countries often become a battleground for competing influences—pro-Western, represented by the European Union and NATO, and pro-Russian, supported by Moscow. While less pronounced than during the Cold War, this division still shapes the political and social realities of contemporary Europe.

Central Europe is continuously undergoing transformations, with history and historical memory still influencing its identity and consciousness. As Bronisław Geremek (1995:174) argued, it constitutes both a problem for Central Europe and a permanent element in the experience and understanding of its reality. Having been behind the wall for many years, which “froze or at least tried to freeze history,” as Claudio Magris (2016:233) put it, but today—it is in constant flux, unstable, and unpredictable. In 2022, the emergence of a new geography of reality—both physical and mental—could be observed (Brodacka-Dwojak 2023). Today, Central Europe is undergoing profound transformations, deeply rooted in history, yet carrying revolutionary consequences for both the near and distant future. Once again, Central Europe feels the impact of historical events, responding to changes with a sensitivity shaped by the neurotic character of the experiences shared by the nations of this part of the continent. These shared experiences, burdened with history and memory, often become an obstacle in creating a lasting connection to the present and defining the identity (Brodacka-Dwojak 2023). The cycle of repeated attempts at adaptation and reflection on identity seems endless, making Central Europe constantly maneuver between the need for redefinition and the preservation of deeply ingrained patterns of thinking and remembering the past.

Many authors, including Krzysztof Pomian, emphasize that the most vivid memory in Eastern Europe is its relationship with history, which is most palpable there. It is also where politics is omnipresent, “often in its most oppressive form” (Pomian 2009:31). Events such as the collapse of communist regimes and the Soviet Union at the turn of the 1980s and 1990s heralded, on the one hand, a new geopolitical and ideological order that many considered the “end of history.” On the other hand, paraphrasing Jacques Derrida, these events hung over Europe—especially Eastern Europe—like ghosts. In his book Specters of Marx, Derrida introduces the concept of the “specter” as a metaphor for Marxist thought, which—though formally rejected—still haunts and analyzes the concept of the specter as something elusive and mysterious. For Derrida, the specter “wanders,” disrupting the order of things. This ever-returning specter of the past and the specters of the present, descendants of the former, make it difficult to explain what it means to be a resident of this part of the continent and a European in general. Indeed, the experiences and identity of Central Europeans, as well as the cultural entity known as Central Europe, have—as Milan Kundera wrote—fundamental significance for the history of the entire continent.

It can be argued that contemporary CEE identity, as noted by Magdalena Brodacka-Dwojak (2023:15), is a dynamic process—a state that shapes itself in response to “great history,” or significant external events that impact the lives of entire societies. The boundary left by the Berlin Wall is dual and ambiguous—it can serve as a bridge for meeting the other or as a barrier separating Eastern Europe from the West. It is a boundary of otherness—for the East, the West was the “other,” and for the West, otherness meant belonging to the Stalinist empire and inherent ignorance of the West (Magris 2016:254). It seems that today, this boundary once again signifies a separation between East and West—referencing the orientalization of the East in the West and the anti-EU stance in the East. There remains a tendency to identify Eastern Europe with the West, and vice versa, through negative phenomena. Furthermore, it is important to note that the East-West boundary is also utilized in Russian discourse, where the West is associated with what is destructive. Maria Bronowicka (2003:156) describes the people of Central Europe and their identity as an abstract category, an intellectual construct that does not adhere to the materiality of specifics. This identity, as an object of constant change and transformation, takes on different forms depending on the perspective of the inhabitants of Eastern and Western Europe. Eastern Europe, having experienced the direct consequences of communism and its collapse, has developed a different narrative about this past than the West, which remained outside the “Iron Curtain.” According to Leszek Kołakowski (1990), it was the communist era that created a “distinct form of civilization” in Central Europe, which deepened the division between Eastern and Western Europe. To grasp these differences, it is worth comparing, for example, the representations and literary descriptions of the communist era and its end in the texts of writers from Eastern and Western Europe. These literary images, marked by different tones and identity priorities, show not only specific historical experiences but also different relations of both parts of Europe with the idea of Europeanness and belonging to a common history. In his novel Stalin’s Iron Glove, Lithuanian writer Herkules Kunčius (2023) focuses on the complex process of the formation of homo sovieticus and the birth of Bolshevik terror. His story begins with the reflection: “The twentieth century in Europe passed under the sign of two world wars, territorial divisions, and incomprehensible mass crimes. As former states collapsed and new ones arose, as existing empires disappeared from the political maps of the Old Continent, people began searching for their national identity, and they are still searching for it.” Kunčius paints a picture of an individual entangled in the mechanisms of power who at the same time becomes the victim of his own work. His narrative expresses the complexity and tragedy of individual fate in the context of systemic oppression, with deep roots extending back to the Russian Empire. Against the backdrop of this history, he also emphasizes the process of identity search among the inhabitants of CEE countries, highlighting their struggles with the communist legacy and the associated need to redefine their place in the new Europe.

In contrast, Annie Ernaux (2022), in her novel The Years, evokes the specific way in which Western Europeans perceived the East during and after the communist era. Describing Europe, she writes: “Europe was divided in half by the Iron Curtain, in the West, there was sunlight and color, in the East, shadow, cold, snow, and Soviet tanks” (p. 61). She notes that the French were not particularly interested in events behind the Iron Curtain—the Gulag or the Chernobyl disaster did not cause much of an uproar. After the collapse of the USSR, the West began to perceive the East as a place of the “new,” but still from a distance and with superiority. Ernaux describes how, in the eyes of the West, the inhabitants of the East were seen as people lacking “pure and abstract freedom” (p. 165), for whom capitalism and freedom were seen as a civilizational shock. After the fall of communism, the West viewed the East as “vague and undifferentiated spaces ‘behind the Iron Curtain,’” where individual nations were only beginning to emerge (p. 165). Despite democratization and transformation, the West still did not view Eastern Europe as an equal part of Europe (p. 174).

Both authors—Kunčius and Ernaux—highlight different aspects of the past and belonging to Europe. For Kunčius, the key is understanding national identity and the historical traumas associated with the communist legacy, while Ernaux, from the Western perspective, illustrates the skepticism and sense of superiority with which the West approached the East. European belonging and the legacy of communism are therefore understood differently—in the East in the context of the search for and redefinition of identity, and in the West as a kind of exoticization and ignorance of Eastern realities, often tinged with a sense of superiority.

II.

In Vladimir Putin’s interpretation, the West is not only limited to European territories but also extends to all regions west of Russia, including the Americas. Putin has long viewed the West as an adversary in a multidimensional war—political, economic, social, and even cultural. In his assessment, this war began as early as 2011–2012, when protests broke out in Moscow’s Bolotnaya Square. Putin interpreted these events not as a manifestation of public dissatisfaction with a falsified political system, but as evidence of a hybrid war (Russian: gibridnayavoina) being waged by the West. In his narrative, both the Arab Spring protests and the “color revolutions” in Georgia (2003), Ukraine (2004), and Kyrgyzstan (2005) were the result of different actions in the Western world (Galeotii 2024). Putin’s narrative of hybrid warfare is not limited to events in former Soviet states or the Middle East. It is also reflected in attempts to destabilize Central Europe, where historical divisions and contemporary tensions create fertile ground for pro-Russian propaganda and political manipulation. A particularly striking example is Slovakia, where anti-American sentiment has gained significant traction in part of society, and pro-Russian sympathies influence political decisions.

Slovak anti-Americanism is unique within the region. Unlike the Czech Republic or Poland, which have strong pro-Western traditions and view the United States as a guarantor of security, Slovakia’s hostility toward the United States permeates various social layers, regardless of the administration in Washington. Robert Fico and his party, Smer, strategically exploit these sentiments to build their political base. At the same time, despite sympathies with Russia, his government purchases American military equipment and refrains from openly sabotaging European Union decisions regarding sanctions against Russia. Slovakia fits into a broader divide in Central Europe, where countries such as Poland and the Czech Republic consistently advocate for a pro-Western orientation, while Hungary and Slovakia drift toward pro-Russian stances. This rift is particularly dangerous in the context of the war in Ukraine, which, on one hand, has united many European countries, but on the other, has exposed internal tensions in the region. Poland and the Czech Republic play a leading role in supporting Ukraine, viewing it as a key partner in countering Russian expansion. Warsaw sees the United States as its primary military ally, while Prague, despite internal divisions, strengthens its cooperation with the European Union. Meanwhile, Hungary, under Viktor Orbán’s leadership, has become one of Russia’s biggest allies within the European Union. Orbán openly criticizes sanctions against Moscow, sabotages joint EU actions, and blocks military aid to Ukraine. Slovakia, under Fico’s government, somewhat follows a similar path, though it is more cautious in openly supporting Russia (Šimečka 2024).

The division of Central Europe has not only political but also cultural and social consequences. Russian propaganda skillfully exploits these differences, amplifying distrust toward the West and the European Union. Anti-Americanism in Slovakia and pro-Russian stances in Hungary weaken the region’s collective actions, reducing its ability to effectively respond to threats such as Russian aggression or internal tensions within the European Union. The future of the region depends on whether Central European countries can overcome their divisions and strengthen cooperation. A crucial test will be continued support for Ukraine and the response to challenges related to democratic regression and the influence of authoritarian regimes. Otherwise, Central Europe may become an arena of deepening rivalry between East and West, making it more vulnerable to destabilization.

III.

Subregions in Eastern Europe are geographical, historical, cultural, and political units that stand out due to their distinct characteristics within the broadly understood space of Eastern Europe. They form parts of a larger area that, due to its diversity, cannot be treated as a homogeneous region. The division into subregions is the result of both historical factors and contemporary political, social, and economic processes.

One of the key subregions is Central and Eastern Europe, encompassing countries such as Poland, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, and Hungary. This region has historically been marked by struggles for sovereignty between dominant powers such as Germany and Russia, and today, it is largely integrated into the European Union and NATO.

Another subregion is Eastern Europe in the strict sense, including countries like Ukraine, Belarus, and Moldova, which remain in a geopolitical tension zone between the West and Russia. These countries are characterized by a complex history of dependence on the Soviet Union, with subsequent challenges in implementing democratic and economic reforms.

A distinct character is also attributed to the Baltic States, comprising Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia. Positioned at the intersection of Central and Eastern Europe, these countries have historically been subjects of rivalry between Russia and the Scandinavian countries or Germany; today, they are integral parts of Western structures such as NATO and the European Union.