A History of Europe Fraught in Contradictions: 1989–2021

Photo: AndyLeungHK (CC) / pixabay

Already in December 1988 I had meetings in Riga and Tallinn, albeit in secret locations, with female activists fighting for their countries independence. Andrei Sakharov who only a short while ago had been vilified and exiled to Gorky (today renamed Nizhny Novgorod) challenged the communist’s one-party-rule. In Poland, the campaigners for civil liberties forced the authorities to agree to the Round Table talks, which led to the negotiated but lightning-quick abdication of the communist party. Adam Michnik later told me that normally the Archangel Gabriel would have climbed down from heaven and, his sword drawn, would have driven the Soviets out of Poland. However, a miracle occurred and the Soviets simply withdrew. The Polish elections in June 1989 were another important turning point. Only a few months later the Berlin Wall fell. My children, who were toddlers at the time, chiselled little pieces from it; I keep these to this day.

Words instead of bullets

Europe, all of Europe, changed after the fall of the Iron Curtain. Nations and societies that were previously considered powerless developed irresistible strength against regimes that had seemed invincible. Power relations were reversed. The drama of events was only surpassed by the self-discipline of the actors, who for their part were able to refer back to the political philosophy of the civil rights and dissident movements of the past decades. Personified in the names Larisa Bogoraz and Sergei Kovalev in Moscow, Lech Wałęsa and Solidarność in Poland, the philosophers Jan Patočka in Prague and Ágnes Heller in Budapest (to name just a few), by renouncing violence they worked out a strategy of “evolutionism” (Adam Michnik), of “anti-politics” (György Konrád), of the “power of the powerless” (Václav Havel) or of the “self-limiting revolution” (Jadwiga Stanizkis) that would write world history. The revolutionaries of 1989 had no guillotine. Their weapon was the word, not the bullet. In this respect, they added a civil, a peaceful option to the concept of revolution. France’s great historian François Furet said that exactly 200 years after the French Revolution, the events in Central and Eastern Europe carried the message of the European Enlightenment further, other social scientists, however, spoke of a new figure of thought in history: a negotiated revolution. For me personally, the fact that I was an eyewitness to these developments and talked to many of those who shaped them is one of the most exciting experiences of my professional life.

Mikhail Gorbachev

Of course, looking back at the historical upheavals of these years, at their almost inexhaustible social creativity one cannot and must not lose sight of the change in the centre of the Soviet empire. Mikhail Gorbachev, who became the general secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union in 1985, wanted – in his own words – to fundamentally modernise the rule of his communist party, even to “democratise” it, but he also wanted to hold on to the Soviet system. To achieve this it was necessary to give back freedom of speech and to create room for a society that had been bullied into silence for decades – hoping to use criticism “from below” to pressure the sclerotic and degenerate power apparatus into accepting the necessity of reform. This concept of socialism as a self-correcting system completely failed. While societies (and peoples) used their unexpected freedom at their own discretion and not according to the general secretary´s calculations Gorbachev remained trapped within the power structures. In desperation he accumulated more and more formal power which at the same time de facto slipped from his hands. The initiator of change became a hapless mediator between spheres that he could not hold together.

Gorbachev was more successful on the international stage. The initiative in world politics passed to Moscow. Gorbachev managed to stop the murderous arms race between the East and the West. It was not without good reason that he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1990 – 15 years after Andrei Sakharov and seven years after Lech Wałęsa. Above all, however, he realised that the peoples of Eastern Europe, who had been regarded as “satellites” of his country for almost half a century, were entitled to self-determination and to their own choices. As the Soviet Union withdrew its guarantee to back the communist regimes, their abdication was a foregone conclusion. Fifty years after the outbreak of the Second World War and the onset of foreign domination, Central Europe was able to decide its own fate. In Germany the Berlin Wall came down.

But more than that: The USSR itself – albeit a superpower armed to the teeth – fell apart. Gorbachev had no answers to the national question in his own empire. While his reform project was thwarted by the very power structures he wanted to rebuild, it set free movements that pursued different goals from his own. The prospects of freedom were more tempting than the promise of reforming socialism which obviously could not be reformed. Indeed, Gorbachev’s claim to historical greatness lies not only in what he started, but more importantly in what he did not undertake to do. Although the bloody events in Tbilisi and Vilnius, for which the Soviet military was responsible, occurred during his term in office, Gorbachev ultimately did not violently oppose history when it passed over him.

A new world and the legacy of the old one

The Cold War was over. Already in 1990 the “Charter of Paris” laid the foundations for a new Europe that no longer would be divided in “East” and “West”. The collapse of the Soviet Union at the end of 1991 resulted in the emergence of a multitude of new (and old) states that began a networking process with the idea of “One World” in mind. My generation who grew up in the Federal Republic under the conditions of the “Iron Curtain” and ignorance about the eastern half of the continent, had to rearrange their mindset.

The euphoria did not last. All too often politicians of the (old) West celebrated the achievement of freedom in the East as “their” victory. When we spoke of having won the race between the systems, we in the West were usurping the performance of those nations who, in a historically unique mixture of desire for freedom and self-discipline had risked everything. At the same time the parameters shifted. High costs had to be tackled, i.e. the costs resulting from the legacy of the old order and, added to this, the costs of building the new order. Millions of people with biographies however fractured, but who had worked hard throughout their lives broke under these conditions. Following 1991/92 everyday life was no longer dominated by ideals of freedom but rather by the economy. Shock therapies, the flooding of the market with (cheaper) western products and the careers of new oligarchs swamped the freedom surge. The bloody Balkan Wars revealed a terrifying potential for violence as well as the equally terrifying powerlessness of the new order.

The EU – and the nations in Eastern Europe

Nevertheless, NATO offered an American perspective to the Central European countries, and the EU a European one, i.e. goals that were either desirable or indispensable. They promised security, influence and a substantial amount of money. On the other hand, already soon after Poland was admitted to the EU, I met with concern in Warsaw that Brussels might compromise the country’s newly gained sovereignty. This resulted in tensions between Europe and Polish national pride, which continue to this day. Given the economic preponderance of reunified Germany, historical resentment could easily be whipped up. This could happen even though neighbourhood links between the two countries today are closer than ever before. In more general terms: with its enlargement the European Union has lost its homogeneity and appeal. Through infighting and internal rivalry it forfeited much of its external attraction and influence. The curtailment of universal human and especially women´s rights and the partial abolition of the separation of powers in individual member states substantially endanger the European project, which traces its origins back to the European Enlightenment. Poland and Hungary, i.e. those societies that were especially active in bringing about the changes in 1989, today put the brakes on a Europe of tolerance and openness. Their governments and supreme courts, which are dependent on their respective government, increasingly challenge the unified Europe. Even some of the European founding members in 1957, among them the Federal Republic after the unification of Germany, lost some of their unconditional orientation towards Europe. Nobody can predict whether the EU will regain its momentum.

Russia after 1991

Today’s Russia poses no less of a problem. Although it is not a member of the European Union, it nevertheless is part of Europe. While Gorbachev’s Soviet Union had made a significant contribution to peaceful change in the world, and even initiated this in “high politics”, Putin’s Russia today furthers power politics, even including military actions. In internal politics the president’s monopoly is expanded, the instruments of repression against dissenters are tightened and the West is being redesigned as an ideological enemy. In foreign policy Putin is increasingly willing to use military means to assert Russia’s interests. This policy is justified by the insinuation that the country is being encircled. In reality, however, Russia has to face the devastating record of Soviet politics. That it oppressed its neighbours over many decades makes it seem understandable that these countries want to place themselves under the protective shield of the US or of the West, the former opposite side. Who is entitled to negate the emphatic vote of the Central European nations? The enlargement of NATO was not a western strategy against Russia, but the will of peoples living there and a consequence of their bitter experiences with the collapsed Soviet Union and earlier with the Tsarist Empire. It is not for the first time in history that the costs of imperialism have to be paid at a later time.

Russia’s two Chechen Wars in 1995 and 1999/2000 which were both started by Boris Yeltsin, severely damaged Russia’s image as a reforming country, and NATO’s war against Serbia in 1999 called the Western alliance’s claim to peaceful aspirations in question. Nevertheless, it seemed that the new Russia which emerged after Putin became president in 2000, while gradually establishing internal autocratic rule, might in its external relations come to an arrangement with the West: modernisation was the magic word.

The social protests in 2011 represented a turning point. Putin stabilised his regime with increasing repression, but above all he unleashed a Russian nationalism that was meant to neutralise potential opposition on the part of civil society. With success. The annexation of Crimea earned him high approval ratings. The covert war against Ukraine and the support of Alyaksandr Lukashenka’s terror against his own people in Belarus reveal new as well as old imperial features in Russia’s policy, which are incompatible with the “Charter of Paris”. By making the use of force a “legitimate means” in Moscow’s politics the principles of détente are nullified. The economically weak Russia triumphs as a military power and strengthens its international influence through the use of force. Are those not Soviet patterns? Bombardments of hospitals and the use of mercenary troops in Syria and the eastern Mediterranean bear witness to this. The hunt for Alexei Navalny and internal voices of opposition increase the risk of a presidential dictatorship. Thirty years after the peaceful revolution, how is this dismal situation to be dealt with?

A review: the German policy of détente in historical perspective

Germany today claims that there is no alternative to a policy of dialogue in line with Willy Brandt’s “Ostpolitik” half a century ago. Even then, it is said, the Soviet Union was not a democratic state, but détente contributed significantly to the change in Eastern Europe up to 1989. In 1972, just 30 years old, as a young scholar I fought enthusiastically for Willy Brandt’s policies, but with arguments that were completely different from those that are interpreted into it today. Willy Brandt, an emigrant in the resistance against Hitler, now West German chancellor – that equalled liberation. His so-called “opening to the East” continued Konrad Adenauer´s policy of rapprochement with the West: For the first time we, the Germans, admitted our historical debt to the peoples of Poland and the Soviet Union and declared our willingness “to pay” for it.

Brandt´s foreign policy revolutionised German domestic politics – it liberated us and gave us a new perspective on our history. By not only dismantling enemy images within Germany but also signalling to the countries of the Warsaw Pact, that the Federal Republic no longer had any territorial claims and, being aware of German atrocities, was looking for an understanding, Brandt´s foreign policy gave Warsaw, Prague or Budapest more room to manoeuvre vis-à-vis Moscow. Even under the conditions of Soviet domination it eroded discipline within the Eastern Bloc. The “Ostpolitik” of the former détente provided a liberating stimulus both internally and externally. In conversations with Willy Brandt I realised that he always also paid attention to the struggle for civil rights and freedom within the communist-ruled countries. He always remembered his own resistance to the National Socialist dictatorship. Basic ideas of this dual strategy of change – increased cooperation between states as well as their internal opening up – were reflected in the Helsinki conference in 1975.

But I do not want idealise Brandt’s politics. It was based on “hard facts” and on interests. Economically the West was vastly superior, and it was infinitely more attractive in terms of its way of life, whereas the East could not overcome its crises. Reforms that were imperative from an economic point of view were not risked because of the political hazards associated with them. The “Prague Spring” of 1968 was the writing on the wall. Therefore import of capital and technology from the opposing side was meant to compensate what the own system was unable to provide for. The West (especially the Federal Republic), conversely, was looking for new markets; détente therefore took place against the background of a tremendous imbalance of capabilities. While Willy Brandt forced post-war German thinking to open up, he at the same time demonstrated the superiority of western economic power. Nevertheless he remained convinced that the total renunciation of force in interstate relationships as well as in domestic relationships was imperative.

Détente in the 1980s – a commitment to the status quo

In the late 1970s and 80s politics shifted once again. The arms race accelerated, the USSR waged war in Afghanistan, in Europe civil rights movements questioned the sole right of representation claimed by their dictatorial governments; in Poland Solidarność formed itself as a democratic opposition movement. German politics, however, lost sight of the social dimension of détente as a strategy for change. What in the beginning was essentially conceived as a policy of opening up, was captured by the state and became a policy of leaps and lurches within the status quo. During these years I often visited Prague and Warsaw, Budapest and Moscow. What there emerged in intellectual and dissenting circles that searched for political alternatives, was not reflected in German foreign policy and had no impact on it. By unthinkingly holding on to the powers that be for a long time, it did not realise that these were already being dismantled. As late as autumn 1988 a top Social Democratic delegation visiting Moscow refused to meet dissidents and independent thinkers of perestroika – because they had, after all, been invited by the Central Committee of the CPSU. No, fundamental change in Eastern Europe was not a result of western diplomacy, but an act of the East European societies themselves. Timothy Garton Ash was right in his criticism of German politics in particular.

Back to the present: what follows from this for today’s politics?

The “dialogue” that is invoked over and over again cannot be the solution, even though it seems reasonable to continue to talk. Unconditional commitment to nonviolence is essential for every partnership. Russia’s policy towards Ukraine is an existential issue for Europe. Anyone who uses force to assert his interests is not a “difficult partner”, as diplomats like to put it, but challenges the partnership and ceases to be a partner. We cannot want that, but we must not ignore reality. With this in mind, North Stream 2 is a mistake.

As much as the EU achieved in its almost 65-year history, and continues to achieve – its internal discord is enormous, common European values are not only violated by individual governments, but openly denied. In the European Council (the heads of government) the interests of individual member states often dominate. As a teenager I was firmly convinced that one day I would live in a “European state”. Loving French or Russian literature, European cities like Prague, Kraków or Venice I dreamt of Europe as a larger nation. Today this seems simply utopian. By its lack of transparency the Brussels bureaucracy, even though it works tirelessly, stirs up unease. How do we get out of this predicament?

The European Parliament provides an anchor of hope, but is too weak in its institutional structure. In the decades ahead it might therefore be an important mission to create a European general public out of the different societies – a European general public referring back to the values of Enlightenment. There still exist 27 different publics most of which are defined by their national frame of reference. What we need is a movement of citizens of all nations of this continent, who converge, take interest in events beyond their own frontiers and mutually support the struggle for self-determination – e.g. of the women in Poland: where could we witness powerful solidarity actions in Germany or in France? In 1968, during his very first visit to New York, Václav Havel demonstrated his solidarity with the ongoing revolution in American theatre. Did we join demonstrations in Warsaw last summer? As a historian scepticism is part of my profession. I realise that we have to think in long periods of time. But we can learn from the experiences of Solidarność in Poland in the 1980s or of Charter 77 in Prague. When they began to fight for their rights without resorting to violence, no one would have given them a chance. In fact, they have rewritten history. Nowadays we see Europe in its entirety. We can learn a lot from the women in Belarus and from Memorial in Moscow. The European Solidarity Centre in Gdansk is a source of ideas and a junction where open-minded people, independent critical thinkers meat to discuss and promote new political concepts.

Wolfgang Eichwede is a German historian, founder and director (until 2008) of the Research Centre for East European Studies at the University of Bremen and professor emeritus of political science and contemporary history.

Collapse of the USSR, Eastern Europe