At the Fence of Metternich's Garden. Mykola Riabchuk

Europeans can make to this stance has been unofficially (as yet) formulated by the Polish President Aleksander Kwasniewski: “There is no argument not to open negotiations with Ukraine. The question is of time, of procedures, but not why or if” (United Press International, 2 February 2005). Giscard d’Estaing and his colleagues may have a different opinion, but it is up to Ukrainians to prove they are wrong.

      2005

1 Quoted in “New Neighbourhood—New Association. Ukraine and the European Union at the beginning of the 21st century,” Policy Papers 6. Warsaw: Stefan Batory Foundation (March 2002): 11.

2 As reported by Varfolomeyev, O. 2002. “The EU’s Unwanted Stranger?” Transition Online. July 12.

3 Symptomatically, the geopolitical preferences of both Ukrainians and Russians in western Ukraine clearly differ from the geopolitical preferences of both Ukrainians and Russians in the east. In other words, “regional rather than ethnic affiliation determines geopolitical preferences” (Reznik, O. 2001. “Zovnishniopolitychni oriyentatsiyi naselennia,” in Vorona, V., Shulha, M. (eds.), Ukrayinske suspilstvo: desiat rokiv nezalezhnosti. Kyiv: Instytut sotsiolohiyi NANU: 243.

(4) ‘Eurasian’ Othering

      The term ‘Eurasia’ has many meanings but all of them can be subsumed under two main rubrics. The first is purely geographical, referring to a formidable landmass stretching from the Atlantic to the Pacific and considering Europe and Asia as a single continental entity, with the former as a peninsula of the latter. The second meaning is much more versatile but in all its multi-faceted representations it refers typically to a Greater Russia, to some space dominated historically by the Russian Empire and its Soviet (and post-Soviet) reincarnation. The term is rather political, cultural, and ideological than purely geographical. It entails not only the idea of Russian political dominance, whether justified or not, whether legitimate (in terms of mission civilisatrice and/or ‘liberation’ of neighbors from somebody else) or illegitimate (in terms of imperial conquest and subjugation). It also promotes the idea of the cultural/civilizational peculiarity of the region, suggesting that it is neither Europe nor Asia but some mixture of both that represents a separate and very special ‘Eurasian’ civilization. Its essence is Russian culture—but rather imperial than national. The common imperial past and some imprints of Russian imperial culture are the only thing that draws together the nations that otherwise are worlds apart in all possible terms, like the Ukrainians and Turkmens, or the Moldovans and Chukchi, or the Belarusians and Buryats. It would be rather impossible to pack them all into one bag if there were not a common denominator—a Greater Russia.

      One need not be an expert in critical discourse analysis to figure out that such a labeling is highly harmful in both political and cultural terms for all the parties involved. First, it mystifies the reality. It features the Russian/Soviet imperial legacy and post-imperial influence as the only or the main factor that determines virtually everything in today’s (under)development of post-Soviet republics. In some cases this factor is really important, in other cases many more historical and present-day variables are involved that, unfortunately, are neglected or undermined. Secondly, the ‘Eurasian’ labeling implicitly encourages Russian imperial feelings and great-power politics, endows it with some international legitimacy, and discursively resonates with the most chauvinistic, crypto-fascist tenets of today’s Russian ‘neo-Eurasianists’. And thirdly, it discursively excludes all the European nations of the former Soviet empire from Europe and effectively marginalizes pro-European forces in all these countries (including Russia itself), making them easy prey for Russian/pro-Russian profoundly anti-Western nationalists.

      In other words, the term ‘Eurasia’ lacks not only precision (which is hardly achievable in any taxonomy) but also impartiality—and this is a very serious flaw in international politics, especially where it plays into the hands of a former empire that still seeks to re-establish its neocolonial dominance. Indeed, the main thing that the ‘Eurasian’ countries have in common (at least in the European realm of the former Soviet empire) is their profound internal divide between pro-Western and anti-Western forces—a divide that reflects not only opposite geopolitical orientations but also systems of values, historical narratives, and, still worse, national identities.

      In this regard, Ukraine, and Moldova, and Belarus can be considered as ‘not-quite-European’. There is nothing wrong in admitting this fact—as an important factor that precludes their European integration and, probably, modernization. But labeling them ‘Eurasian’ is another matter. It means, in fact, interference in domestic ideological infighting and taking the side of ‘Eurasian’, pro-Russian, profoundly anti-European forces. It helps to shift a tough balance between rival parties in the ‘Eurasian’, anti-Western direction. No alternative to the term ‘Eurasian’ is perfect but, in most cases, the term ‘post-Soviet’ looks more precise and far more neutral than the term ‘Eurasian’.

      Taking the Russian side

      The power of labeling, othering, and exclusion inherent in presumably neutral geographic terms was noticed long before the classical studies by Edward Said, Larry Wolff, or Maria Todorova were published. Milan Kundera and his colleagues from Poland, Hungary, and Czechoslovakia had desperately rebelled against the term ‘Eastern Europe’ as allegedly excluding them from Europe as a family of free nations and placing them implicitly into a legitimate Soviet sphere of influence. ‘Eastern Europe’ became like a stigma that signified the inferiority of the region, its primordial backwardness, lack of political freedom, civic liberties, rule of law. To escape from this dangerous, disreputable place they invented the term ‘Central East Europe’, which included primarily Poland, Hungary and Czechoslovakia but was embraced also in Romania, Yugoslavia, West Ukraine, and the Baltics by local dissenting intellectuals.

      It was a just attempt to overcome an exclusion imposed upon them by the dominant West European discourse. But their own discourse proved to be equally exclusivist vis-à-vis other East European neighbors. Slovenians claimed they had nothing to do with the ugly ‘Balkans’ because they had always been Central European. Croatians followed suit by becoming ‘Mediterranean’. The Balts declared they were ‘Nordic’ and certainly should not belong to the post-Soviet club since they had been occupied by the Soviets (as if Georgia or Ukraine or anybody else had joined the USSR voluntarily). All this made the renowned Canadian historian John-Paul Himka quip: “What’s the new geography? Western Europe, Central Europe and … Eurasia. Europe has a West, it has a Center, but holy cow! it has no East. Foucault would have loved this geographical gaping wound.”

      Today [2010], as all the non-Soviet countries of the former Communist block have been either admitted to the EU or placed on a firm track towards membership, the process of othering and discursive exclusion/inclusion has changed its forms but not its essence. ‘Eurasianism’, in this respect, can be defined in a Saidian way as an attempt to control and manipulate the so-called ‘Eurasia’, which is merely a code-word for the post-Soviet republics. Russian ‘Eurasian’ discourse is aimed primarily at dominance over and re-integration of the post-Soviet space. Western ‘Eurasian’ discourse is aimed primarily at marginalization of the post-Soviet republics, their exclusion from the European project, and placing them within the Russian sphere of influence and, presumably, responsibility.

      Ignorance might be one reason for such a Western approach. Neither Ukraine, nor Georgia, nor Belarus have ever existed on the mental maps of the Europeans. All these nations have been always perceived through the lenses of Russian historical myths broadly accepted in Western media and academia as ‘scientific truths’. The imperial likeness of big Western powers has also facilitated their uncritical acceptance of Russian imperialistic views of the ‘near abroad’. The alternative views and voices of the subaltern nations have been silenced, marginalized, or discredited as ‘nationalistic’.

      Yet Realpolitik and, in particular, a