DEAR READER,

Fifteen years ago, New Eastern Europe sent its first issue to print with cautious optimism: democratisation was underway, the post-Soviet world was finding its footing, and the direction of travel, if not the speed, seemed somewhat clear. Our latest issue asks a simple, uncomfortable question: what if none of that was as linear as it looked?

The anniversary issue is out now, and Europe is dividing again not along the old Iron Curtain, but along new fault lines of threat perception, defence spending, and democratic resilience.

Enjoy reading this week’s “brief”!

— Giorgi Beroshvili, Editor

The East–West divide should not be overstated. Estonia, Romania and Lithuania have generally remained strongly pro-European despite placing considerable emphasis on national independence. Conversely, sovereigntist politicians in Western Europe have achieved considerable political success. Nevertheless, it is primarily in parts of Central and Eastern Europe that states increasingly resemble isolated islands, jealously guarding their borders and defending “go-it-alone” policies in an ever more interconnected and interdependent European environment.

With the fall of the Berlin Wall and the enlargement of the European Union, the East-West divide in Europe appeared to lose much of its significance. Although the Eastern Bloc was highly diverse in terms of size, culture and historical experience, the Soviet grip over its satellite states constituted a powerful unifying factor. The disintegration of the Soviet Union enabled the countries of Central and Eastern Europe to reunite with the western part of the continent, a process that culminated in their accession to the European Union two decades ago.

Admittedly, one can argue that the enlargement process merely created a new division in Europe, leaving parts of the Balkans and Eastern Europe outside the Union. Yet this new dividing line did not appear to be permanent. The European Union repeatedly expressed its intention to enlarge further eastwards and southwards while simultaneously extending its influence beyond its borders through the export of European capital, goods, laws and, more recently, military assistance. As Bill Clinton confidently declared at the Brandenburg Gate:

“Now, together, we can walk through that gateway to our destiny, to a Europe united, united in peace, united in freedom, united in progress for the first time in history. Nothing will stop us. All things are possible. Berlin is free.”

The title of this journal, New Eastern Europe, founded 15 years ago, could therefore be seen as symbolizing Eastern Europe’s return to its western home: a new Eastern Europe emerging after decades of violence, authoritarianism, and isolation that had characterized much of the region throughout the 20th century.

Today, however, this vision appears increasingly outdated, if not altogether naïve. War has returned to Eastern Europe, democratic institutions are under growing strain, and new walls are being erected. As in the past, Russia bears primary responsibility for these developments. Yet much of the damage to the idea of “a Europe whole and free” is also inflicted by domestic political actors campaigning under the slogan of “our nation and state first!” Across much of the continent, and particularly in Central and Eastern Europe, war, nationalism and sovereigntist outlooks are once again driving Europe apart.

The politics of fear

It is often argued that Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022 united and mobilized the EU and its member states. The invasion was met with a swift and decisive response from the EU, which imposed sanctions on Russia, coordinated various forms of assistance to besieged Ukraine, and strengthened its own defence efforts both within and beyond NATO. Yet perceptions of security threats differ markedly between states bordering Ukraine or Russia and those located further south and west. A Pew survey conducted in 2025 showed that around three-quarters of Poles regard Russia as the principal threat, while only about one-third of Italians and Spaniards share this view. In Greece, Turkey rather than Russia is perceived as the principal threat. Among Spaniards, the United States is regarded as posing as serious a threat as Russia.

The nature of these concerns also differs, as demonstrated by an ECFR poll conducted in 2022. Poles are primarily concerned about the possibility of Russian military action and refugee flows. Respondents in Finland, France and Romania expressed particular concern about disruptions to energy supplies and the economic consequences of the war, while cyber-attacks ranked among the dominant concerns in Sweden and France. The ECFR poll also found that respondents in Poland, Romania and Sweden were considerably more willing to make economic sacrifices than those in France and Germany.

Threat perceptions are also reflected in levels of military spending. According to NATO estimates for 2025, Poland currently spends no less than 4.5 per cent of its GDP on defence. The three Baltic states bordering Russia – Latvia, Estonia and Lithuania – each spend more than three per cent of GDP. By contrast, the lowest spenders remain Ireland (0.22 per cent), Malta (0.45 per cent), Luxembourg (0.85 per cent), and Austria (1.10 per cent).

Statistics aside, the most striking difference between the states of Central and Eastern Europe bordering Russia and those located further south and west concerns the prevailing pattern of politics. An outside observer cannot fail to notice that politicians in Poland and the three Baltic states increasingly speak and act as if their countries were already in a state of war with Russia. First, one observes a pervasive sense of wartime anxiety, even though no full-scale war is taking place on their territory and the prospect of one remains hypothetical. Second, external threats are increasingly invoked to legitimize extraordinary measures, including some that appear difficult to reconcile with the principles of liberal democracy. Third, growing hostility is directed by self-proclaimed patriots against alleged “traitors”. Fourth, security considerations increasingly shape socio-economic policy. Fifth, there is a growing conviction that only a strong leader can guide the nation to victory.

Needless to say, these developments have adverse consequences for the quality of democracy, the protection of human rights, media independence, and sound economic governance. Paradoxically, the political responses adopted by those states that fear Russia most may gradually bring certain features of their political and economic systems closer to those of Russia – not by design, but as an unintended consequence of prolonged insecurity. This does not mean that a new Eastern Bloc is emerging. The countries of the region continue to display diverse threat perceptions and political responses. Sweden, for example, shares many of Poland’s security concerns, while Hungary has often portrayed Ukraine as posing a greater threat than Russia. There is little doubt, however, that since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine geography and history have once again become important factors shaping new patterns of convergence and divergence within the EU.

Continue reading in our latest issue…

— Jan Zielonka, emeritus professor of European Politics at the University of Oxford