The Aurora Review

In Western Europe, people see history as something safely behind them. They mark anniversaries and keep records. They have thoughtful conversations about the past. Then, they get back to discussing economic growth or how to run the place more smoothly. After the Cold War, most folks there assumed Europe had moved into a “post-historical” phase. Borders were set. War was out of the question. Politics got technical and, frankly, a little boring.

Eastern Europe never saw things that way.

From the Baltics all the way down to the Balkans, 1989 wasn’t the end of history. It just changed shape. The past still influences current discussions. It shapes how people think about politics and security. It also affects their sense of identity as a nation. Western Europeans like to talk about rules and institutions. Eastern Europeans talk about memory.

This split goes way back. For much of the twentieth century, Eastern European countries couldn’t decide their own fate. Borders got redrawn, countries vanished and reappeared, and occupation wasn’t just a scary idea—it was real life. When communism fell, they didn’t “discover” independence—they got it back, and that made it feel delicate.

That sense of fragility hasn’t disappeared. People there don’t assume institutions will keep them safe. They know security needs defending, and sovereignty isn’t just a symbol—it’s something you can lose. For them, history isn’t just about remembering—it’s about spotting the same patterns, again and again.

Western Europe built its identity on the idea that you can leave history behind. If countries trade and work together, conflict fades into the background. For a long time, that actually worked. People got richer, borders opened up, and war felt like a thing of the past. History became something that happened “back then,” not something that shake things up now.

This difference runs through almost every argument in Europe today. When leaders in Eastern Europe warn about Russia, they get labeled as nervous. They are perceived as overreacting when talking about security threats. Western governments, on the other hand, see themselves as calm and reasonable when they suggest patience or more talks. Really, they’re both just reacting to their own history lessons.

The war in Ukraine made this split painfully clear. Eastern European countries jumped into action—not out of fear, but because they recognized what was happening. They’d seen this thing before. For them, history isn’t a straight line ahead. It’s something that comes back around.

That doesn’t mean Eastern Europe is stuck in the past, or that Western Europe is clueless. It just means they see risk and time differently. Western Europe puts its faith in institutions. Eastern Europe knows stability has to be protected, over and over.

Europe doesn’t have to pick the past over the future. The real challenge is admitting that history didn’t end everywhere at once—and figuring out how to live with that truth.