The Russian invasion of Ukraine and the ongoing war highlighted the continuing struggles in fostering democracies in the countries of Central and Eastern Europe (CEE). Given the significance of transitional justice, identity politics, and historical memory within these processes, memory legislation has become one of the key tools used in national governance and international politics. Dovile Sagatiene, a postdoctoral scholar at the Memocracy project since 2022 and until October 2024, and a legal historian, reflects on the challenges posed by the Russian invasion of Ukraine to the international legal balance, memory governance, and academic knowledge production in and around the CEE. With expertise in legal history, Dovile Sagatiene delves into the questions of establishing transnational solidarities within democratization efforts, developing legislative frameworks for addressing historical responsibility, and strengthening connections between academia and decision-makers.
Kateryna Osypchuk
Since October 2022, you have been a postdoctoral researcher at the Memocracy project of the Centre for Military Studies at the University of Copenhagen. We would like to start by discussing the project’s initial conception, development, and the entanglements between collective remembrance, governance, and law that the project addresses in articulation with fostering democracies in Central and Eastern Europe. Since its establishment, how has the project addressed the democratic dilemmas that arose considering the memory governance in the CEE, and what key insights emerged regarding the impact of these laws on the democratization processes in the region?
Dovile Sagatiene
Let us begin with the simple things. The simplest thing is that we live in a matrix, which is like a fabric made from different narratives, memories, and histories. This is an important part of our decisions, especially when considering whether to support or not to support Ukraine or defend or not to defend NATO members. The world is built on narratives, which have been clashing, especially over the past 30-40 years, as people remember—or choose to remember—things differently. How did we start to regulate memory? It sounds tricky—why do we regulate memory at all? Memory regulation began in Germany, rooted in the trauma of the Holocaust, after which this nation, as perpetrators, had to confront its past. In the 1980s, two generations after World War II, some people started to claim that the Holocaust had never happened. Once something like that is denied, it is much easier for it to be repeated. Still, some in Europe and elsewhere denied the Holocaust or claimed that it was not as big as Jewish communities were portraying it. As a result, Germany, bearing moral responsibility for the Holocaust in addition to financial and political responsibilities, decided to defend the historical truth and memory of the Holocaust. To sanction those who denied the Holocaust, they began to adopt memory laws. Under the leadership of Germany in 2008, the EU Framework Decision on Racism and Xenophobia 2008/913/JHA was adopted by the EU Council, which defines a common criminal law approach to certain forms of racist and xenophobic expressions within EU member states. As a consequence, Member States must ensure that some forms of intentional conduct are punishable when directed against a group of persons or a member of such group when defined by reference to race, religion, descent, and national or ethnic origin.
This is a so-called “punitive memory law,” the hardest and most intrusive one: when you sanction people not only by fine or administrative restrictions but also by criminal law—the ultimate measure. It was enacted because Germany felt that they needed to do something more, and that education alone was insufficient.
Now, everything is reshaping. It is amazing to see what the three Baltic states did after 2008 when that Framework Decision was adopted. Latvia and Lithuania incorporated into their criminal codes not only punishment for the denial of the Holocaust, as did other European Union member states, but also the denial of Soviet crimes. And I think you can understand why they did that—because Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia lived through two occupations, Nazi and Soviet, not just one like the rest of Europe.
And if we talk about Ukraine, that experience should be very similar because you also had both Nazi and Soviet occupations. In Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia, the Soviet occupation lasted for 50 years and Nazi occupation for three years (1941-1944). So, after the 1990s, the main pressing issue was to deal with the legacy of Soviet crimes. There was no accountability for Soviet crimes, neither in Lithuania nor in Latvia, Estonia, Poland, or Ukraine. Russia was on the winning side of World War II, so they were not under trial; there was no Soviet Nuremberg after 1990. For this reason, after regaining independence, the Baltic states opened the topic for broad discussion, with Ukraine joining them shortly after. You [Ukrainians] have a remembrance tradition, with the Holodomor recognized as a genocide at the national level, but you also have memory laws as a result of two difficult occupations. And with Russia in orbit, it was even more difficult for you than for us: in the Baltic states, we knew clearly where we wanted to go—we wanted to go to NATO and the European Union. And Ukraine drifted for some time in that regard, at least till the Revolution of Dignity in 2013.
Kateryna Osypchuk
The Baltic states were among the first actors to officially recognize the Holodomor as a Soviet genocide both at the state (Estonia in 1993) and the international (the Baltic Assembly in 2007) levels. Given the significance of transitional justice in the democratization process at the national level, what role do international solidarities play in developing legislative frameworks for these processes and strengthening democracies in the region?
Dovile Sagatiene
Lithuania and other states recognize the Holodomor as a genocide at the political level, which is different from the legal level. Achieving the legal level of recognition is almost impossible due to many reasons. You can see what is happening now with the special tribunal for Russia—it is still not there, since this requires a lot of compromise with all the interested parties and balancing legal issues, too. Nevertheless, political recognition is important—it is a symbolic gesture that we recognize you: we see that you are victims, see the injustice, and know who is accountable. This is the beginning of any legal action that might have been taken to prove or recognize the Holodomor as genocide. I can give you an example of Lithuania, because it is the only country claiming that the Soviet genocide happened, that the Soviet crimes were not just crimes against humanity, which is awful enough, but genocide. Why was Lithuania the only one claiming the concept of genocide? Because the concept of genocide is very powerful. You can feel that when talking about the Holodomor: it’s the crime of crimes. For Ukraine and Lithuania, it was important to say that the Soviet genocide happened; it was not just an international crime. Genocide is a legal concept adopted in 1948 by the United Nations; it defends or protects certain groups, not individuals, from destruction.
Russia’s current political leadership claims Ukraine isn’t real and has no right to exist, implying only major powers deserve that right. The genocide convention protects smaller nations’ rights to exist—like Lithuanians, Estonians, and Ukrainians—regardless of their size. This is why the concept of genocide is so important in the context of this war for Ukraine—and for other states, such as the Baltic countries.
Nataliia Shuliakova
Indeed. And that prompts another question: the one of political memory, of not being held accountable for the crimes that you commit. We’ve discussed how international debates and the recognition of Soviet crimes as genocide has influenced international solidarity and the pursuit of justice for the current Russian war crimes. Genocide is a big debate in academia now, especially in legal studies. And it is thought to be a crucial matter to name something genocide, as you said, and not to label the event as “war crimes,” “crimes against humanity,” or “mass atrocities.”
Dovile Sagatiene
The concept of genocide is a legal concept and the trick is, that it is very hard to prove. The only case held before the European Court of Human Rights that successfully attained a symbolic recognition of Soviet victims as victims of genocide, was the case from Lithuania, achieved in 2019. Stanislovas Drėlingas was convicted by Lithuanian national courts of the crime of Genocide for arresting Lithuanian partisans who had been tortured and killed. Lithuanian courts decided that it was genocide against the national group because the partisans in question were effectively representing and fighting for the Lithuanian nation in general. His conviction was held not to be in breach of ECHR, meaning symbolic recognition of Soviet victims as victims of genocide.
More has to be done everywhere among the supporters of Ukraine, NATO members, and allies to understand that Ukraine, Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia are Europe. We are not post-Soviet. In the mindset of some decision-makers, we are still a part of Russky Mir, and Russia is doing a lot to maintain that narrative and expand it. We are still regarded as not real nation-states: last year, China’s representative in the European Union said that the issue of the Baltic states’ statehood is not solved yet. After 34 years, China, an enormous player in global politics, says the status of the Baltic states is not settled yet. That’s what I mean when saying that we need mental decolonization.
Kateryna Osypchuk
Talking about one’s past and being heard is a big component of the decolonization processes: mental decolonization and the decolonization of history, memory, and identity. In this context, language immensely impacts the interpretative framework we use and the findings we reach. It is important to tackle this issue of the “post-Sovietness” that you mentioned earlier. You actively criticize this term, highlighting its colonial implications and inability to capture the ongoing political struggles in the region. Could you elaborate on the possible alternatives to acknowledge the agency of the states that formerly constituted the Soviet Union?
Dovile Sagatiene
If you open any media outlet—BBC, CNN, all the leading mass media news outlets—you will see that they are writing about our region using the term “post-Soviet.” It is not true anymore because “post-Soviet” is a Cold War term. And after 34 years, I think we cannot refer to European Union (and indeed NATO) members, as post-Soviet, because they are not post-Soviet anymore. They are already de-Sovietized or formerly Sovietized countries.
We have a long history of monarchies, independence, and duchies—it’s not true that we are Soviet, and, as a matter of fact, the term “post-Soviet” implies that we had no agency. We were not in the Soviet Union voluntarily, we were occupied.
“Formerly Soviet-occupied countries” would be a better alternative. Some de-Sovietisizing countries are still going through that process; the first case is Ukraine, then probably Kazakhstan and Georgia.
Kateryna Osypchuk
Do you see any potential value in using this “post” as a marker of the uneven power distribution? There is scholarship that converges “post-colonial” and “post-soviet,” and it does accentuate the power imbalances while still using this lexis. What do you think about it?
Dovile Sagatiene
It’s still talking in Cold War terms. During the Cold War, it was simple to draw the line—you were either Western or Soviet. After the Soviet Union collapsed, it got tricky because every country was in transition on different levels, in different spaces, paces, and stages. Different countries had different paths, and it’s difficult for Western scholarship: now they need to address the Baltic states, Ukraine, Kazakhstan, Azerbaijan, and many more—these are very different countries with different cultures and backgrounds.
Many Western universities have a department focused on Eastern European studies, but somehow, still, only Russians are there. That also feels like the lack of mindset shift regarding who we are. I understand that you cannot have a department for the Baltic states, or a department for Ukraine, but you can have a department for formerly Soviet-occupied countries, if you want to bring them all together. All these terms are better than just referring to us as Russian/Slavic/Eastern European studies. Eastern Europe isn’t just about Russia—there are many nationalities and complex histories. I understand it’s challenging, but it’s our right to exist, and we want to be acknowledged on every level. There is an initiative called RUTA (Association for Central, South-Eastern, and Eastern European, Baltic, Caucasus, Central, and Northern Asian Studies in Global Conversation) that aims to unite and represent everyone under one banner.
There are already some efforts, and, as an academic, I believe that every small step counts. Last year, when I published a blog on the term “post-Soviet”, I was contacted by a scholar from a Canadian university, who said that she wanted to change the department’s name after reading my blog. It’s easy for academics and students to become pessimistic—I see students in the auditoriums feeling lost and thinking they can’t make a difference or that these narratives are already settled.
Nataliia Shuliakova
There has been an extensive effort from academics dealing with Ukrainian studies to integrate Ukrainian or regional studies into the syllabuses of American institutions. Here, we either have a Russian department or an all-encompassing Slavic department, and the only possibility to teach about Ukraine is to teach there. But how do you do that in a sensitive way that acknowledges the agency of the state, especially when you don’t have access to all the resources translated from the source language? One of the common approaches in rethinking the post-Soviet framework is to appeal to the region not in terms of physical or temporal space, but regarding the power distribution. Do you think we should use this methodology in some cases or give it up completely?
Dovile Sagatiene
No, the correct term is “formerly Soviet-occupied countries.” It’s the minimum. There was occupation, and there were satellite states. It’s not “post-Soviet” because this term is dragging us behind, even now, in the discussions regarding whether to support Ukraine among NATO allies. When engaging with a broader Western audience, we don’t blame them for their ignorance; instead, we ask them to make an effort to understand. This is important because many decisions are based on their ingrained frameworks and subconscious vocabularies. We should encourage efforts to understand us and our history better.
However, a tricky issue is that many so-called experts on Eastern Europe are often Russian. The voices discussing the region are not typically Lithuanians, Estonians, or Ukrainians, but established Russian scholars. Therefore, to ask Western audiences to make an effort, we need to speak their language.
It is a crucial issue as Western scholarship has jargon, and we need to know it. Now we have very few national or local experts from Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, Ukraine, and Georgia, who talk in their native language and communicate clearly what we are saying. From Estonia, of course, it’s Maria Mälksoo. Other local scholars are just beginning to find their voices, present strong arguments, and conduct impactful research to ensure their audiences hear them. As academics, our role is to craft arguments that are understandable, clear, and acceptable.
Kateryna Osypchuk
Thinking about these changes, we see many examples of the departments just being renamed, while the policies, the professors, and the syllabi remain the same. These changes are often focused on titles but rarely reflected in the contents, and it is important not only to get behind—meaning to get to the decision-making—but also to get beyond the surface and have a more meaningful impact. Would you say that the key aspects of talking in a way to not only get behind but to get beyond are the language we use, and the self-organized associations?
Dovile Sagatiene
It takes time and new people to bring change, especially in academia, where funding is essential for forming new departments. Securing this funding is challenging, which means new networks must often be established, and that takes time. After the Russian war in Ukraine started, many Ukrainian academics joined Western universities—thousands, in fact. However, this window is closing as emergency funding for one or two years is running out, leaving many Ukrainian scholars struggling to remain in Western academia.
I can share a noteworthy paper by Olga Burlyuk, who writes about the challenges faced by Ukrainian scholars since the war. Her paper, published in a top journal and now nominated for awards, highlights the important work that still needs to be done.
The main problem is how do we, as academics and researchers, get to the decision-makers, those who are distributing funding and deciding what to support? How do we show our expertise and say what is relevant and worthy of funding? As far as I know, after 2000, many German institutions focused on Russian/Soviet studies were closed, because they were not considered to be relevant anymore in the political context of deeper cooperation with Russia. If Germany had kept all those departments and experts, maybe someone might have warned it against starting Nord Stream and pointed out that, after Crimea, more territorial claims would follow, and that maybe it is a good idea to stop flirting with Russia. After the Crimea annexation, Lithuania’s sitting president, Dalia Grybauskaite, called Russia a terrorist state. There was a huge fuss among the European allies. Sometimes, drastic political gestures are necessary. Grybauskaite was right, and the Baltic states were right when we were saying that after Georgia in 2008, it would be Ukraine, then probably the Baltic states, and after the Baltic states, it would be Poland. That is why it is our job to get to the decision-makers at any and every level.
Nataliia Shuliakova
Speaking of flirting with Russia, you have probably heard about the recent precedent with Putin’s trip to Mongolia. It struck me, because, despite the ICC issuing the arrest warrant for Putin, Mongolia didn’t enforce it. I understand their relationship with Russia is complex due to dependence on fuel and financial ties. I’m not a legal historian, but I believe they were supposed to follow the Rome Statute. This makes the Statute seem more like a symbolic gesture of solidarity rather than a law that one is bound to enforce whenever Putin enters their territory. Given Mongolia’s reliance on Russian fuel, do you see potential for alternative, maybe legal mechanisms that could strengthen accountability? Do you think the Rome Statute and similar legal actions are merely symbolic gestures of international solidarity, or do you believe we can bring about change through them?
Dovile Sagatiene
As a legal historian, I look at it from the perspective of international criminal law created at the beginning of the 20th century. Before that, we had nothing similar. Everyone was just taking their armies and going to war. But in the 20th century, and especially after the Nuremberg trials, we had a political-legal balance settled. Everything in global policy is balanced, and for a long time, that balance worked. Now, the balance is on the side of Russia. It is not on the side of the United States or the Nuremberg legacy, because if the balance were on the right side, Russia wouldn’t be able to attack Georgia, annex Crimea, and attack Ukraine. It is a question of political balance, and Mongolia feels that. They feel that they can ignore that ICC warrant, because there is no legal mechanism enforcing its implementation: the country can only voluntarily do so. Will somebody take an army and go to Mongolia to arrest Putin? No, because this is sovereign respect between states, which is part of the balance I mentioned.
However, the international legal framework is very fragile, it has no police or armies to implement such warrants. That’s how international criminal law looks right now—there is no international officer who would oversee the implementation of the warrants.
Nataliia Shuliakova
Hopefully, we can end on a positive note with this question. Considering the extensive documentation of Russian war crimes by Ukrainian and international NGOs, as well as submissions to the International Criminal Court, what are the realistic prospects for achieving justice for the victims? While some suggest that Ukraine may have to accept that not all perpetrators will be punished, not all victims will receive assistance, and not all stories will be acknowledged, is it possible to hold all perpetrators accountable? Additionally, could recognizing Soviet-era crimes as genocide impact the dialogue surrounding accountability for Russia’s current actions?
Dovile Sagatiene
Well, if we look at what happened, for instance, with the Nazi crimes, we had the Nuremberg trial that was regarded to be successful, but still not all top-level Nazi officials were punished. Hitler killed himself, and other Nazi leaders managed to flee to other countries, such as Argentina. We know that Israel put Eichmann on trial. Mossad kidnapped Eichmann in Argentina and brought him back to Israel to convict him. If we look at history more generally, it’s never punished at the full-scale true justice would require. Still, looking from the perspective of legal history, it’s a huge development compared to what we had before. So, we shouldn’t be disappointed in what we are doing as academics, as people who want to make perpetrators accountable. We shouldn’t lose hope, and at least we will do something instead of doing nothing.
Victims can also seek symbolic justice. Victims usually don’t want money or their belongings back. What the victims want is moral recognition. They want recognition that they are indeed victims, that they are not the ones to blame for what happened to them, because the actual perpetrators committed, and are solely responsible for, that crime. So, the recognition of victims is possible on many levels: political and legal. If you go with the legal level, you know that there are many cases from Ukraine pending right now before the European Court of Human Rights.
Even though this Court does not deal with reparations, accountability, and criminal punishments, it deals with human rights in Ukraine. So, the minimum Ukrainians will get would be the recognition as victims, and recognition of who is accountable. Looking ahead, we must focus on combating disinformation, which is closely tied to memory wars and understanding global perspectives. Many in the Global South are uncertain about Russia’s actions in Ukraine, viewing them as a fight against so-called Western imperialism. Each individual and state has its own interests, and we must navigate these complexities. My advice is never to lose hope and remember that every individual matters.
Nataliia Shuliakova
Each person matters. We did end on a positive note.