Multipolarity Then and Now: A Macedonian Perspective

MULTIPOLARITY THEN AND NOW: A MACEDONIAN PERSPECTIVE

Official seal of the 1878 Macedonian Uprising

Making sense of today’s global turbulence is no easy task. For scholars of international relations, it often feels as though we are caught in a laboratory experiment gone awry—where the variables keep shifting, the outcomes are unpredictable, and no one is quite sure who is in charge. Events unfold with dizzying speed, as if we’re trapped in a ‘perfect storm’. In such a moment, the quest to impose meaning on chaos becomes both urgent and elusive. Without historical distance, it’s nearly impossible to assess the present objectively. And yet, the need to try is inescapable.

It is for this reason that seemingly distant anniversaries—such as the Nevesinje Uprising of 150 years ago—deserve our reflection. The revolt, led by Serbs under Ottoman rule, inspired uprisings across the Balkans, including the Razlovci Uprising in Macedonia and later the Kresna/Macedonian Uprising, sparked by the injustices of the Congress of Berlin. These revolts are well known in Macedonian historiography. They are commemorated, sometimes solemnly, sometimes perfunctorily. But the ideals that animated them are not lived today. They do not inspire the current political class, which seeks security not through struggle, but by clinging to NATO’s protective umbrella—believing it offers safety, dignity, and perhaps even meaning.

In a recent academic presentation—and in the forthcoming article it will grow into—I tried to bring together two seemingly incompatible themes: the idea of multipolarity and the Macedonian perspective. At first glance, the contradiction is obvious. Can there even be a “Macedonian perspective” when the very existence of Macedonians is still contested? Furthermore, the Macedonian state leadership deems multipolarity a dangerous taboo.

Today, some neighboring states continue to insist that Macedonians are an “invented” nation, created by Tito or “misidentified” from their rightful national affiliation. As if nations are natural products with fixed origins. To add insult to injury, in the 21st century—even as an independent state and NATO member—Macedonia has outsourced its own history to an EU-brokered commissions (with Greece and Bulgaria). It is these bodies—not historians, not citizens—that now determine whether figures like Dimitar Pop-Gеоrgiev Berovski (the uprisings’ military leader) or any others were “ours” or “theirs.” We seem to have reached a point where historical identity is negotiated like a trade agreement, or worse, subjected to bureaucratic DNA testing.

So yes, we are “sovereign,” but only in name. In practice, Macedonia is treated—much like it was in the late 19th century—as a pawn on a chessboard of greater powers. Our sun officially rises in the West, and our political elite have been more than willing to sacrifice language, history, even the country’s name, in order to gain admission to NATO’s club. They did so in the belief that once inside, we would be safe. But safety has proved elusive, and dignity even more so.

It is actually striking how little has changed. Over a century and a half has passed since Macedonia first emerged as a geopolitical question within the Eastern Question. Yet the “Macedonian Question” remains unresolved (or better, it is intentionally kept open). It is still a site of dispute, denial, and deferment. Even today, the ghost of San Stefano’s Greater Bulgaria and the legacy of the 1878 Congress of Berlin continue to hang over us like Damocles’ sword. And the same great powers who once redrew Balkan borders with imperial ease now watch, indifferent, as one EU member vetoes another’s history and identity.

In the Cold War era, we at least knew the world’s contours: it was bipolar, and Yugoslavia—non-aligned and proudly sovereign—navigated between East and West with relative finesse. Then came the triumphalism of the unipolar moment, when American hegemony seemed absolute. Now, as that hegemony fractures and the contours of a multipolar world begin to emerge, Macedonia finds itself once again in a familiar position: on the periphery of global power, caught between interests it cannot influence and alliances it dare not question.

And yet, the world itself seems less certain. The West, once seen as a unified bastion of liberal values and order, now shows signs of internal decay and disunity. With Trump’s return to power, transatlantic relations are strained, NATO is uncertain of its future, and the liberal international order looks increasingly like a relic of the past. The Global South—or better, the Global Majority—has grown louder, more confident, and less willing to take instruction from a declining West. And yet, in Skopje, we remain anchored to a unipolar fantasy, oblivious to the tectonic shifts around us.

Our foreign policy has placed all bets on one option. All the eggs are in one basket—Washington’s. If there's any “hedging” within that framework, it’s toward the U.S., not away from it. And this comes at a time when U.S. foreign policy itself appears erratic, punitive, and at unmoored from international law. Macedonia, in other words, is all-in on a system that may be collapsing.

What makes the situation even more tragic is the absence of resistance. Unlike the 19th century, when leaders like Berovski took risks for a vision of justice, today’s political class offers only resignation and compliance. They genuinely believe they’re doing what’s best for the people—even as they hand over national interests in exchange for vague promises of progress. Today’s imperialism often doesn’t come with boots and bayonets. It comes with conferences, partnerships, and “technical assistance.” It is neocolonialism in a tailored suit—and our elites, from politicians to academics, serve as its local translators.

To be fair, it’s not just the weak who are confused. Even the powerful no longer seem to know where they’re headed. Antonio Gramsci once said that in moments when the old world is dying and the new cannot yet be born, we witness an interregnum marked by morbid symptoms—and monsters. This is our moment.

The post-WWII order, built on the UN Charter and the illusion of global consensus, is disintegrating. And while some countries resist with arms, others surrender with pen strokes. Ukraine was told: resist at all costs—because justice is on your side. Macedonia was told: surrender your name and your past—and you’ll be rewarded. But the conscience aches just the same.

If there is any solace, it is that nothing lasts forever. Not even empires. My generation has lived through three global orders—the Cold War, unipolar hegemony, and now this unstable transition. Perhaps the next generation will rediscover the meaning of dignity, autonomy, and resistance—not as nostalgia, but as a necessity.

Until then, we watch the old monsters return, and new ones emerge. However, nothing is eternal. Including the US Empire and NATO.