Sandra Gaučiūtė. Today, it’s about choosing what’s right, not what’s convenient
Sandra Gaučiūtė, Head of International Projects at the Open Society Foundations, is interviewed by the partners of the Transition Dialogue project from Germany about the end of World War II and its repercussions in today’s processes.
Can we speak today of a shared European understanding of the consequences of World War II?
A common European understanding of the consequences of World War II is still in the process of formation, and arguably, this process is progressing too slowly. Diverse historical experiences, especially in former Soviet bloc countries, lead to varying interpretations of the war and differing memory politics. While European values such as peace, democracy, and human rights are often proclaimed, their implementation remains inconsistent. Russia’s aggression against Ukraine serves as a painful reminder that the lessons of history have not been fully learned—not only in some EU countries but also in the broader European and global context. Today, populist narratives are increasingly prevalent, calling for a return to a supposed “golden past,” while ignoring or deliberately overlooking historical violence, injustice, oppression, and deportations.
In the political and public spheres, concerning signs are evident: restrictions on civil society in Serbia, Hungary, and Georgia; weakening of free press; and the undermining of independent institutions. All these indicate that the roots of totalitarianism have not been entirely eradicated. Even more troubling is that an increasing number of people are turning away from fact-based history and historical memory—partly due to information warfare, but also because of growing social inequality and disillusionment with democratic systems. This fosters radicalization, the spread of conspiracy theories, and historical distortions, thereby altering the perception of the long-term consequences of World War II.
We often lack decisive support for countries currently defending the foundations of democracy—not only Ukraine but also regions where the pursuit of freedom is becoming increasingly vulnerable. A shared European historical memory can only be established when there are no “convenient silences,” and when the historical experiences of each nation are acknowledged, reflecting their sovereignty rather than adhering to a colonial narrative, and are integrated into a common narrative. This requires the courage not only to speak about the past but also to act in the present—not only at the political level but also within our society, which often becomes indifferent.
How are the lessons of World War II, particularly the understanding of the tragedy of war and the crimes of totalitarian regimes, being reinterpreted today in Ukraine, Belarus, Lithuania, Germany, and Poland in the light of Russia’s aggression against Ukraine?
The current war in Ukraine has revived painful memories of historical oppression throughout the Eastern European region. In Lithuania, we particularly recall that, although World War II officially ended in 1945, for us, it did not conclude—it was followed by nearly fifty years of Soviet occupation, repression, deportations, and suppression of national consciousness. This experience is still not fully understood or acknowledged in many Western European countries, often leaving our historical voice marginalized in Europe context.
Due to this historical experience, there is a growing awareness in Lithuania that the lessons of history must not only be remembered but actively defended—through actions against aggression, disinformation, and nostalgia for totalitarianism. The crimes of totalitarian regimes in our region are not merely historical issues—they are evidently relevant today, especially as we witness the same repressive models being applied against Ukraine’s statehood and society.
This explains the sincere and profound solidarity of the Lithuanian people with Ukraine. We often hear surprise from other countries: “Why does such a small nation support Ukraine so strongly?” The answer is simple—our history does not allow us to remain indifferent. We see ourselves in Ukraine—fighting for freedom, dignity, and the right to exist. Therefore, many Lithuanians say: “With Ukraine—until victory.” This is not just a political slogan—it is a moral stance arising from an experience shared with all nations that have endured Soviet oppression.
After World War II, the Soviet Union was internationally recognized as one of the world’s superpowers, primarily due to its decisive role in defeating Nazi Germany. Western countries, especially through the Yalta and Potsdam conferences, acknowledged the USSR’s sphere of influence in Eastern Europe. The USSR was often referred to as a liberator; however, especially today, words matter. The USSR was not a liberator but an occupier that came and forgot to leave. We are witnessing the same situation in Ukraine today.
How does the experience of the war against Ukraine affect the reinterpretation of symbols, commemorative dates, and memory of the past in your societies?
The war against Ukraine has accelerated processes that were already underway—a growing disassociation from Soviet and other totalitarian symbols, which were long presented as signs of “victory over fascism.” More and more people now clearly identify and speak out that May 9th, as “Victory Day,” essentially symbolized not liberation but the replacement of one totalitarian regime with another. Soviet victory rhetoric is increasingly losing its meaning, as it is based on historical distortion and selective memory.
A significant portion of our society never felt respect for these Soviet symbols—especially those who directly experienced occupation, deportations, or repression. Another segment, particularly those socialized during the Soviet era or part of the Russian-speaking community, long felt a certain loyalty to this symbolism—often not due to ideological conviction but due to cultural inertia. With Russia’s initiation of the war in Ukraine, the reevaluation of symbols, language, commemorative dates, and the assessment of ethnic minorities has become a source of internal tension: differing experiences, identities, and sometimes miscommunication have clashed, posing a threat to social cohesion. Therefore, we are currently learning the importance of patient, inclusive dialogue and clear value-based policies that do not stigmatize but invite choosing the side of freedom and democracy.
In Lithuania, which today, after 35 years of independence, can consider itself a full-fledged member of the European Union, May 9th—Europe Day—is becoming more significant not only as a historical date but as a value-based choice: for peace, reconciliation, democracy, and human dignity.
What role does the rethinking of May 8th play in shaping contemporary political culture and memory of the war?
The geopolitical reality in which Lithuania is wedged between two aggressive authoritarian regimes—Russia and its ally Belarus—only underscores further that the reassessment of history is not merely a matter of the past. It is a question of present and future security, of value-based choices, and of identity. Lithuania has never felt entirely secure, and our politicians and society have long warned that Russia’s aggression is not a temporary deviation or an isolated tragedy, but a systemic, long-term threat to the entire region.Today, these warnings are confirmed not only by the brutal war in Ukraine but also by Belarus’s hybrid attacks—from the instrumentalization of migration to sustained disinformation campaigns against the West. In this context, the meaning of May 8th becomes vivid and urgent. It is no longer just a commemoration of a historical date but a moral compass: are we ready to recognize threats, defend our values, and truly learn from the past? In Lithuania, there is a growing understanding that we must distance ourselves from Soviet memory narratives that glorified the “capitulation of one aggressor and the victory of another,” while remaining silent about repression, occupation, and the loss of independence. For us, May 8th signifies not only the end of the war but also the beginning of a new chapter in telling history—one that reflects truth, acknowledges painful fates, and embeds democratic values as part of our shared foundation.
A message from you to Germany and Europe on 8th/9th of May 2025
Today, as the shadows of war once again fall upon the European continent, our gaze on May 8–9, 2025, must return to the past—not out of nostalgia, but out of responsibility. Only by remembering past mistakes and learning from them can we build a Europe where aggression, revanchism, and contempt for human dignity have no place. This is not just a history lesson—it is a commitment to present and future generations.
Political will today is not silent acquiescence to threats but the courage to name them, resist, and act together. Political morality is the ability to choose not what is convenient but what is right. Faith in politics arises when words align with actions, when values are not mere declarations but the foundation of decisions. Let our memory turn into action—for freedom, truth, and human dignity. Only in this way can we build a Europe that can be believed in again, because states are not defeated when tanks roll in, but when people, citizens, cease to strive for them.
