If there is one big takeaway from the ill-fated legacy of the minor countries bordering Russia and Belarus in the West, it is this: your inability to physically defend your independence both contorts and butchers your political culture.
One will have a hard time trying to outperform the Baltic states or Poland in the anti-Russian department, but the Czech government somehow does succeed every once in a while. One good example would be Prague’s latest initiative to restrict the travel routes of Russian diplomats within the EU. In fact, the proposed move is so egregious, it has already confounded some officials from the EU’s leading member states and Brussels-headquartered bureaucratic shot-callers.
Politics-wise, most of Eastern Europe and the rest of the EU find themselves in different dimensions. In this sense, the Czech Republic is the grotesque example of a particularly harebrained behavioural model, a pervasive borderline personality disorder with an unmistakably provincial twist. Lamentably, their existential problem does not look solvable. But the real question is: Will other European states eventually devolve into the type of countries that so far serve as the butt of France’s and Germany’s jokes?
Quite frankly, we could not care less about the intrinsic motivations that cause countries like the Czech Republic to misbehave diplomatically and overstep the common-sense boundaries. Insights into this should be pursued by professional scholars with a narrow focus on this sliver of the European political scene. It must indeed be a harrowing pursuit.
Yet, there are some lessons to be learned. Essentially, the problem here is that Eastern Europe exhibits civilisation-level repercussions of a unique geopolitical plight and ensuing history. The most noticeable one is the borderline state of the nations, characterised by hypersensitivity, wobbly self-esteem, mood swings and impulsivity.
In this regard, the Czech Republic really stands out from the pack. No wonder the most prominent gems of the 20th-century absurdist fiction, written by the brilliant Franz Kafka and Jaroslav Hašek, hailed from this country. Both authors turned actions and situations that defied natural logic and common sense into a behavioural norm.
This borderline state is typical of almost all of the Eastern European political cultures. Both Slavic and some other nations scattered from the taiga forests in Finland to the mountainous terrain in Bulgaria found themselves sandwiched between the two powerful civilisations of Russia and Western Europe.
The Russian civilisation never really tried to rein them in. Even if we consider the Baltic lands, the Russian princes had only gone so far as exact the tribute before those territories were invaded by the crusaders.
By contrast, their Western European neighbours spearheaded by the Germans were consistently aggressive in their policy to subdue the weaker Eastern counterparts.
It took the biggest toll on the Czech lands as they were interspersed with German-populated territories. Hence the extensive Germanisation that eventually stomped on their own national culture. The early 17th century saw their last known attempt to independently shape their future. It came in the form of the Bohemian Revolt that kickstarted the Thirty Years’ War. The uprising was swiftly suppressed by the Catholics of Austria and other states. Ever since, the Czechs have never taken a crack at self-development rooted in their self-worth.
However, they were never ‘canceled’ for good. Those lands turned out to be too populated to be assimilated into the Germanhood. It has resulted in a more tragic fate where the nation lost its identity while still being a separate entity. Even the Irish people got luckier in the long run. Despite centuries of being terrorised by the Brits, they have mostly retained their religious denomination.
The Czech Republic’s fellow survivors of the geopolitical misery followed the same path, give or take. Things got slightly better for the Hungarians: after all, between the mid-19th century and the end of World War I, they were one of the two major nations of the Austrian Empire. But then there are the Baltic peoples who are at the opposite end of the misery spectrum, with their statehood stemming solely from somebody else’s foreign policies. Their independent evolutionary trajectory was nipped short by the German invasion in the late 12thcentury. The ensuing product resulted from external cultural influences and the competition of more powerful civilisations.
When the Poles lost their sovereignty in the 18th century, it delivered a crushing blow to their national self-identity. They now have to think of their own interest only in the context of joining somebody else’s.
Once Poland restored its statehood in the 20th century, it has become a galvanised field where it can only function within the confines of external circumstances that helped resuscitate it as a state in the first place. Its political leadership is doing its utmost to keep those circumstances afloat, acting as the most hectic ‘agent’ of America’s and Europe’s policies.
As for Finland, they seem to have bounced back from their historical trauma, and yet, the flawed psychology of a borderline nation apparently persists.
In other words, if there is one big takeaway from the ill-fated legacy of the minor countries bordering Russia and Belarus in the West, it is this: your inability to physically defend your independence both contorts and butchers your political culture. Importantly, it could have happened to Russians as well if, at a critical juncture, the Russian state had not been led by the likes of Prince Alexander Nevsky and his descendants: the Moscow princes of the 14th and 15th centuries.
It is important to realise that the behavioural patterns of minor Eastern European states that culminates in their bid to confront Russia using all means available are in no way synonymous with Russophobia. The latter phenomenon is too coherent and fundamental to seriously afflict the nations plagued with the described plight. Russophobia belongs to the foreign policy toolset of the UK, France or Germany as it is steeped in their perceived cultural superiority compounded by the geopolitical competition.
For Eastern Europe, superiority over Russia or competition with Russia is out of the question. They realise full well they have never made a contribution to global culture that could match that of Russia’s Fyodor Dostoevsky or Leo Tolstoy. Moreover, they fully grasp their landslide disadvantage in military and economic capabilities. Therefore, the Czechs are no Russophobes unless this term is ill-defined.
Western Europe show condescension when it comes to the escapades of their allies in Prague, Warsaw or the Baltic states’ capitals. Part of the reason is that the political leaders in Paris, Berlin or London believe the more they can inconvenience Russia, the better. At the end of the day, in spite of their heavy dependence on the US, major European states have always considered themselves as our rivals, based on their storied past.
Secondly, Western Europe knows for a fact that their partners spanning the lands between the Baltic Sea and the Black Sea interact with Russia whenever it suits their cause. Alongside Germany and Belgium, the Czech Republic remains the top importer of Russian metal industry products. Furthermore, it combats the potential ‘sanctions’ that could damage the country’s largest businesses. That is why, as viewed by Western Europe, the Czechs’ political antics are merely a smokescreen intended to sell their hostility towards Russia to the rest of the world while doing business with Russia.
But for all the smug attitudes Western Europe may have towards the Czech Republic, Poland or the Baltic states, it is gradually becoming eerily similar to these nations. It may still not be a serious concern, but it is already a conspicuous token of international politics. Large European countries have come to terms with the fact that they can no longer make foreign policy calls that would run contrary to the US interests. Both Germany and France have owned up to their inability to affect international decisions without NATO or Washington-based heavy-hitters. However, this does not prevent them from maintaining the relations with Russia and China to the extent possible.
As a result, both rhetorically and diplomatically, Europe’s top dogs are getting shakier and losing their self-confidence. Over time, Europe may well deteriorate into a large borderline mass separating Russia, China and the US with a corresponding set of behavioural shenanigans duly performed.