About fifty men dance on a Bulgarian mountain meadow full of trampled cow dung horo, a traditional round dance. They spin around to the folk music, arms intertwined, while a soloing clarinetist glides feverishly across the scales. The gathering at the foot of the Balkan Mountains resembles a traditional Bulgarian feast. But the participants wave Russian flags in addition to Bulgarian flags. Photos of Putin and Stalin adorn banners and T-shirts. A few hold up the letter ‘Z’ demonstratively.
Symbols associated with the violence of war, destruction and genocide elsewhere in Europe flutter happily at the annual meeting of the National Movement of Russophiles near the town of Kalofer. About a thousand people (according to the organization there are three times as many) today celebrate the Russian-Bulgarian relationship. “I’m here because I love Russia,” says 44-year-old Sonja Vaseva, dressed in a baggy sweater with Goofy on it. She carries the Russian and Bulgarian flags. “Russia has given everything for us. Where would Bulgaria be without Russia?’
Unsurprisingly, love for Russia takes off at a gathering of Russophiles. Beyond that, Bulgarian society is divided on the issue. In the elections next Sunday, Russia is the elephant in the room: none of the major parties wants to burn its fingers on the polarizing topic. In the fragmented political landscape, every vote counts. Bulgarians are also reluctantly going to the polls. It is the fourth election in two years, after two formations collapsed and a pro-European government fell in June.
Branches on the same tree
About a third of Bulgarians have strong sympathies for Russia, said Todor Galev, director of the Center for the Study of Democracy in Sofia. Before the Russian invasion of Ukraine, this proportion of the population was greater. ‘After February 24, Russia’s popularity declined rapidly. But this development seems to be reversing in recent months.’ Galev blames this on the “wave of Russian disinformation” that is sweeping the country and capitalizing on pro-Russian sentiment among the population.
The historical connection of both countries is a commonplace in Bulgaria. “We are both Slavic peoples, branches on the same tree,” says 65-year-old Valina Georgieva. She has a Russian flag and wears a T-shirt with the text Dream your way. ‘I feel deeply connected to Russia. The language, the alphabet, the literature…’ And don’t forget the Orthodox Church. “Russians think like us.” Like most visitors, she is against the war in Ukraine. ‘It’s a political affair,’ says Georgieva, while the folk music is exchanged for a singer who plays Russian tearjerkers. “I feel connected to the people.”
The idea of this friendship of peoples dates back to the 19th century. Russia wanted to increase its influence in the Balkans and expel the Ottomans. That went with soft power – strengthening ties with national movements in the Balkans, such as the Bulgarians – and with hard power: war. During one of these campaigns against the Turkish sultan, in 1877-1878, Bulgaria managed to break away from the Ottoman Empire with Russian help. Since then, the Russian-Bulgarian friendship has been a fact, many Bulgarians say. The reality was messier. The newly independent Bulgarian elites were reluctant to exchange the Ottoman yoke for the Russian one.
Attract and Repel
Until the Second World War, the relationship between the two countries was a process of attraction and repulsion, with Bulgaria looking east as well as west. But under communism (1944-1989) this complex history was erased. Bulgaria fell within the sphere of influence of the Soviet Union, so there was only room for the positive aspects of Russia. The goodness of the ‘big brother’ grew to mythical proportions. This can still be found in some textbooks. After the fall of communism, Bulgaria again looked west with one eye and east with the other.
Through this history, pro-Russian sympathies find fertile ground in Bulgaria, says Dimitar Bechev, a political scientist at Harvard. In 2017 he published the book Rival Power on Russian influence in the Balkans. ‘A substantial part of the population supports Russia. But these are mainly the older people. There is also a strong pro-European movement in the country.’ After demonstrations in front of Russia this spring, thousands of Bulgarians took to the streets in May in solidarity with Ukraine.
When Russia fired missiles at Kyiv, Sofia was home to a prime minister who was critical of Russia: Kiril Petkov. He fired a defense minister who called the war a “special operation,” traveled to Kyiv, supported sanctions and, to top it off, expelled 70 more Russian diplomats before his government fell. “Petkov certainly represents a break with the past,” says Bechev. Previous governments often ate from two sides. Boyko Borissov (three times prime minister between 2009 and 2021, red.) showed the EU its most western face, but at the same time gave Russian business interests free rein.’
Graffiti guerrilla in Sofia
The division about Russia is also reflected in the discussion about the many Soviet monuments in Bulgaria, which has flared up again since the invasion. Such as the large monument to the Red Army in Sofia, an imposing column with a Russian soldier on top. ‘Down with Putin’, it reads in red letters, yet another sign of the graffiti guerrilla war in the Bulgarian capital – elsewhere Ukrainian flags are painted with the letter Z.
“That’s not a civilized way to express your opinion,” says Svetanka Neshkova (71) disapprovingly of the slogan on the statue. By the way, the soldier can stay. ‘History is history. You won’t change that.’ The war, which her husband with a cough calls a “special operation,” saddens her, she says. “But as Bulgaria we should not interfere, we are only a small country.” She therefore finds it wrong that the previous government was so vehemently against Russia.
24-year-old Ivan Ivanov sits with two girlfriends in the shadow of the statue. The International Relations student believes that the Bulgarian relationship with Russia is separate from the conflict in Ukraine. “They liberated us from five centuries of Turkish rule.” He is against the war, which he says is not about Ukraine at all. “It’s a battle between the United States, NATO and Russia.” He concludes this on the basis of his own research on the internet, because ‘the media do not tell everything by far’.
Russophobia
Bulgaria is gripped by russophobia, you also hear at the russophile festival in Kalofer. And elated as the visitors are about Russia, they are so gloomy about Bulgaria. ‘We are at the bottom of every list. The only thing Bulgaria excels at is the number of dams per capita,” laments 65-year-old Georgieva. Bulgaria wants to become a richly developed country, she says. ‘But the EU and America are blocking that, they want to make us dependent on their Western companies. They treat us like second class citizens. But I’ve always felt equal with Russia.’
Bulgaria is a low trust society, explains Galev of the Center for the Study of Democracy. Trust in the institutions and the media is low. Russian disinformation has free rein: the cynical messages magnify existing contradictions in society and target an audience that no longer believes in anything.
Back in the heart of Sofia, Paraskieva Fortunkova (71) sells brooches and jewelry at a flea market. Her stall overlooks Aleksander Nevsky Cathedral, which was built in honor of the 200,000 Russian soldiers who died in the 1878 campaign for Bulgaria’s independence – Russian rulers have always been lavish with soldiers’ lives. She has not had a good word about Russia since the beginning of this year. “How can I say anything positive about that country when you see what they are doing in Ukraine?”
