This article is taken from the July 2023 issue of The Critic. To get the full magazine why not subscribe? Right now we’re offering five issues for just £10.

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Eastern Europe, the term itself, is a dead stereotype. To give a catch-all name to the multi-layered melting pot of the dozens of ethnic groups from Poland to North Macedonia, and all countries in between, is a lazy Western construct that bears no resemblance to history. It certainly doesn’t do the land or the people justice.

Amidst the highly-charged political debate in the United Kingdom about immigration from Eastern Europe, Jacob Mikanowski’s debut is a much-welcomed historical analysis of the region. “For centuries, Eastern Europe has been a place of seekers. Less economically developed than the West, but open to a wealth of religious and messianic traditions … Eastern Europe is, above all, a land of small states with complicated fates.” Indeed.

It is a captivating land — vast tracts of farmland, mystic forests inhabited by werewolves, primordial swamps, high mountains and immense arterial rivers — that has hosted dozens of migratory peoples who developed their own beliefs, traditions and culture over thousands of years.

This dark, forbidding territory has been criss-crossed, influenced and defined to a degree by war, and certainly by empires, over the centuries. As Mikanowski states, “much of their history was written in the imperial capitals of Vienna, Istanbul and St Petersburg (and later, Berlin and Moscow)”. His revelatory and superbly-written narrative reveals the fascinating strata of history, community and personality about which we in the West are largely unfamiliar.

Mikanowski has a personal stake in this story, hailing from a small community of Polish-speaking, Jewish intelligentsia. This allows him to approach the subject less through nation states, which are ever-changing, than through the basic concept of faith in all its forms and the desire to seek a better or higher life, peace of mind, or even redemption. He decorates his gripping narrative with an array of characters, events, lost communities, cities and religions.

After 1989, the West’s welcome of a reunified Germany was mirrored by the Soviet Union’s demise, as Mikhail Gorbachev lost control of the communist republics, including the Russian federation. To their west, both Yugoslavia and Czechoslovakia broke apart, the former amidst a bitter and barbarous war whose fault lines are still in existence. To their southeast, North Macedonia continually feels the weight of history as its Balkan neighbours vie for allegiance. Its entry into NATO in 2020 was smoothed only by accepting Greece’s demand that it cut all historic claims to ancient Macedonia and Alexander the Great.

Keeping the narrative up to date, Mikanowski’s epilogue wastes little time in bringing the story round to the war in Ukraine. He sensibly compares its post-Cold War journey with that of neighbouring Poland, which could yet play a significant role in determining how the conflict will end. Both countries have endured long and fractious relationships with Moscow, especially the catastrophes of 20th century warfare — including the Polish-Bolshevik War of the early 1920s.

One can easily find oneself on the wrong side of history

These countries share a deep-rooted desire to preserve a historic identity that roots their respective people in their own land, as well as giving them clear, unambiguous profiles on the international stage.

This can and has come at a human cost — one can easily find oneself on the wrong side of history. It is here that Mikanowski’s personal family history shines a spotlight on the key challenge for present-day governments in Warsaw and Kyiv: bringing all sides of the argument with them. Old religious, traditional and cultural ties are strained, in many cases severed, by politics and war. The past always reaches out to have its say.

Since gaining its democratic freedom after the Orange Revolution of 2014, Ukraine has struggled to find a single specific version of its recent past that satisfies all its constituent parts. That past is a toxic mixture of nationalism (many Ukrainians fought for the Nazis against Joseph Stalin during the war), a longing for closer ties with Russia (millions more served in the Red Army) and a desire to accept the great horrors of Soviet rule, specifically the millions who died of famine during the Holodomor of 1932–33.

Ukrainians are now liable for prosecution should they deny this fact of genocide, which did not go without comment from Vladimir Putin, who denies it ever took place. The irony is that recent events show he now seems bent on implementing his own version.

Mikanowski’s timely book pours iridescent light on the lands and peoples of Eastern Europe, who co-existed for centuries before Western culture dismissed them as existing beyond the frontier of civilisation.