A review of George Orwell and Russia. By: Masha Karp, published by Bloomsbury Academic

The Estonian song festival, Laulupidu, has taken place every five years for over 150 years. It is one of the largest choral events in the world and involves almost all of Estonia. The festival embraces the power of singing, which has become a national symbol for Estonia, especially in the most troubling of times.

That recent stormy night in Europe’s eastern frontier still reverberates for a 19-year-old student and much of her country. It happened during the closing hour of Laulupidu, Estonia’s biggest national gathering, a quinquennial choral event that had helped Estonia free itself from communism. Under pouring rain that July 2nd, before a crowd, Hanna Grete Rebane stood in a choir of 23,000 young Estonians singing poetic verses about yearning for one’s homeland despite hardships. As darkness began to settle, the audience began to sway with the singers; people held hands and wept, waving the Estonia flag.

In the semi-autonomous Moldovan region of Gagauzia, young people seem to be at a crossroads, grappling with issues of identity. The direction the region will take depends on finding a balance between preserving independence, heritage and tradition and embracing opportunities for growth and cooperation at both regional and international levels.

Gagauzia, a little-known semi-autonomous region covering 1,848 square kilometres in Moldova's south, comprises a cluster of cities, towns and villages amongst mainly rural and agricultural landscapes. This unique region is predominantly inhabited by an ethnic Turkic group whose origins remain somewhat enigmatic. Presently, facing significantly worse economic conditions than Moldova's capital (Chișinău) and limited opportunities, young Gagauzians find themselves torn between preserving their community and embracing a more European-aligned lifestyle and outlook.

The ongoing war in Ukraine has forced many refugees to make tough decisions about their future. This is particularly true in neighbouring Moldova, where many Ukrainians are deciding to settle on a more long-term basis. Despite the difficulties of this new life, a large number of refugees are trying to make the best of the situation.

Olena Mustiats, 41, had only the most basic requirements when she fled Ukraine with her six-year-old daughter last March: safety, affordability and a local language she knew. Leaving from her native Odesa, in Ukraine’s southwest, Mustiats settled on Moldova and headed to the capital, Chișinău. “I chose Moldova because it’s closer [to Odesa] than Poland, they speak Russian there, and because prices at the supermarket are cheaper than in Poland,” Mustiats said. A year and a half later, Mustiats and her child are still in Moldova, with no plans, and limited options, to go anywhere else.

The LGBTQ+ community faces discrimination and stigmatisation in most countries in Europe. Belarus is no exception. Recent research by the “It’s OK” initiative, however, shows that the scale of the threat faced by the LGBTQ+ community is much greater in Belarus than other countries in the region. This is also related to Russian state policies against sexual and gender minorities.

According to the European Union Agency for Fundamental Rights, more than 50 per cent of LGBTQ+ people in European countries have faced discrimination based on their sexual orientation or gender identity. This includes such forms of discrimination as insults, bans on employment or career advancement, denial of accommodation and access to health care, and physical and psychological violence.

The documented history of Jews in the Balkans can be traced back to the early Middle Ages and has been studied by researchers from diverse perspectives. Undoubtedly, it is a vibrant, dynamic and tumultuous story, set at the crossroads of multiple intersecting cultures and social groups. Although the Second World War profoundly impacted the Jewish world, it did not bring about its end.

In less than three years, we have lost three women who had made a tremendous impact on Balkan Jewish culture. The first to pass was Flory Jagoda, who died in January 2021. Born in 1923 in Sarajevo (Bosnia and Herzegovina) as Florica Papo, Flory emigrated to the United States after the Second World War. She was an accomplished singer and composer devoted to the preservation of the Ladino and Sephardic traditions.

The story of local Belarusians who collaborated with Nazi Germany is often a forgotten page of history. Yet, their brutal tactics and participation in the extermination of Jews and other populations are a sad reminder of life under occupation, as was the case of the Barysau police officers.

I remember when I was a small boy, I used to ride my bike with my grandfather. In one village near Babruisk, my grandfather would start a conversation with a local resident. The villager would ask, “Are you interested in the history of the war?” “Do you see the house on the left? A policeman lived there. So there was a lot of blood on the hands of this policeman. He shot Jews and Soviet POWs. He didn’t run away with the Germans; he was hiding here. Caught, and tried. Got a quarter, 25 years. No one else had seen him here.”

Vladimir Putin’s recent orders to return artefacts to “Golden Ring” cities around Moscow only further reveal the Kremlin’s attempts to tie present issues to the past. Possessing histories stretching back to the time of the Rus’, these cities are once again playing a highly important role in Russian identity.

“This is Trinity”, a religious icon painted in 1420 by Andrey Rublev, is about as high profile as icons come in Russia. The Russian president’s order in May to move it back to the Trinity Lavra Monastery in Sergiev Posad was neither accidental, nor anecdotal. Its connection to war, the idea of Russia and the bonds between church and state run much deeper than most realised. The defiance of the Tretyakov Gallery, which said it would not be moved, was symbolic in its own right – though not how one might assume.