The Forgotten Parallel: Novgorod and Ukraine's Struggle for Sovereignty
History repeats itself - Russia’s drive to crush independent states is nothing new. From the medieval fall of Novgorod to today’s war in Ukraine, the battle for sovereignty has played out with brutal consequences. Cemil, V24 follower, shares his thoughts on the striking parallels.
Cemil Kerimoglu
Feb 9, 2025 - 2:41 PM

Ukraine vs. Russia: A Medieval Struggle Reborn
To fully grasp the deeper metapolitical significance of Ukraine's current struggle against Russia, we must look back to a pivotal confrontation that occurred in the 15th and 16th centuries between the Republic of Novgorod and Muscovy in northeastern Europe.
Russia's obsession with Ukraine and its invasion cannot merely be attributed to territorial ambitions. This conflict runs deeper, symbolizing a clash of fundamentally different and mutually exclusive civilizational paths. It represents a struggle for the future of Eastern Europe, pitting Western Civilization, embodied by Ukraine, against the Asiatic brutality and primitivism represented by Russia.
A historical parallel of this civilizational clash can be seen in the confrontation that transpired in the Middle Ages between the Republic of Novgorod and the Grand Duchy of Moscow. Russia's current aggression against Ukraine echoes the 15th-century conquest and destruction of Novgorod by Muscovy. By understanding this historical context and progression, therefore, we can gain valuable insights into today's events.
Novgorod vs. Muscovy: A Clash of Civilizations
The Grand Duchy of Moscow (Muscovy), the precursor to the Russian state, began as a minor vassal of the Mongol Golden Horde. Through cunning diplomacy and submission to the khans, its rulers exploited Mongol power to expand their own, absorbing neighboring principalities and forging a militarized autocracy. With their grip on the northeast secure, they turned their ambitions toward the Republic of Novgorod.
Unlike Muscovy, Novgorod remained untouched by Mongol rule. By the 14th and 15th centuries, it was a flourishing and sophisticated republic, deeply integrated into European trade and culture. Its people prized their freedoms, governing themselves through the veche, a popular assembly akin to the Norse "thing" or Swiss cantonal councils. The veche bell, ringing from the market square, symbolized their rights as citizens. Power was balanced among elected officials – the mayor (posadnik), the archbishop, and the grand prince – ensuring no single ruler could dominate.
Muscovy, by contrast, was steeped in despotism. Servility defined its people, its rulers wielded unchecked brutality, and its society mirrored the authoritarian traditions of the Golden Horde. While Novgorod thrived in prosperity and intellectual vibrancy, Muscovy remained impoverished and backward.
Culturally, politically, and even in self-perception, Novgorodians saw themselves as part of Western Civilization. They traded with the Hanseatic League, maintained alliances with Lithuania and Poland, and scorned their eastern neighbors as crude and uncivilized. Their disdain for Muscovy was crystallized in a saying: Muscovites wear woven sandals (lapti), but we, Novgorodians, wear boots. This echoes a sentiment still alive today, in a different but related confrontation – just as Ukrainians see themselves as an integral part of the West, standing in stark contrast to Russia’s backwardness and despotism.
Envy, Paranoia, and the Inevitable Clash
Throughout the 15th century, Muscovy sought to subjugate Novgorod, but the republic resisted, fiercely defending its sovereignty. Novgorod’s wealth, freedoms, and ties to Western Europe enraged the Muscovites, who could not tolerate the existence of a more prosperous and sophisticated Slavic neighbor. The same resentment would drive their descendants – modern Russians – to wage war against Ukraine centuries later.
Paranoia, a defining trait of Muscovites and later of their descendants – modern Russians, fueled accusations against Novgorod. Its independent diplomacy, especially its relations with Poland, Lithuania, and the Teutonic Order, was seen as treachery. Wild claims spread that Novgorodians had betrayed Orthodoxy, sold themselves to the “Latin king”, and were leading a “Latinist expansion” into Rus’ – an eerie precursor to Russia’s present-day rhetoric, branding Ukrainians as agents of NATO and Western “decadence”.
Of course, Novgorod had no intention of abandoning Orthodoxy or threatening Muscovy; it simply sought to preserve its European identity and cultivate its own alliances – just as Ukraine today wishes only to define its own path, free from Moscow’s grip. Then, as now, Muscovite accusations reflected not reality, but deep-seated envy and resentment toward a freer, more prosperous Slavic neighbor choosing a superior civilizational course.
Ultimately, the clash between Muscovy and Novgorod – like today’s war between Russia and Ukraine – was not merely about land or power. It was a fundamental, metaphysical battle between two irreconcilable worldviews: the despotic, Asiatic backwardness of Muscovy versus the European spirit of Novgorod. And as history has shown, Muscovy would not tolerate such a rival indefinitely – violence was inevitable.
The Fall of Novgorod: A Civilizational Tragedy
By the mid-15th century, Muscovy’s relentless ambition clashed head-on with Novgorod’s defiance. In 1456, Grand Prince Vasiliy II launched a military campaign, forcing Novgorod into the punitive Treaty of Yazhelbitsy – stripping it of independent diplomacy and placing it under Moscow’s suzerainty. Yet, Novgorod resisted. A movement led by Marfa Boretskaya sought an alliance with Lithuania to restore its freedom, provoking Muscovite fury. In 1471, Ivan III struck back, devastating Novgorod and unleashing a campaign of terror – mutilating captured soldiers and sending them back as harbingers of fear.
The final blow came in 1477–78. Muscovy sacked Novgorod, massacring its people and exiling its elites. The city’s cherished veche bell – symbol of its democratic traditions – was ripped away, its institutions erased. To ensure its subjugation, Ivan III repopulated Novgorod with Muscovites, a tactic repeated in future Russian conquests. The jewel of northeastern Europe had been crushed.
Yet, despite the genocide, Novgorod’s spirit endured. Its cultural identity, too strong to erase, even influenced its new settlers. This only deepened Muscovite paranoia. A century later, Ivan IV (“the Terrible”) launched another wave of terror, determined to annihilate any lingering vestiges of Novgorod’s European legacy. In 1570, he and his oprichniks ravaged the city, executing entire families by drowning them in the Volkhov River, looting monasteries, and torturing prominent citizens – cruelty that foreshadowed the Red Terror and Stalin’s purges centuries later.
Muscovy’s destruction of Novgorod sealed the fate of the future Russian state, ensuring that despotism, rather than republicanism, would define the Eastern Slavic world for centuries. The same pattern of savagery would later resurface in Russian atrocities in Bucha, Izyum, Mariupol, and other places in Ukraine – proof that Muscovy-Russia’s instinct to crush, rape, and terrorize has never faded.
Had Novgorod survived, an alternative Russia might have emerged – a Baltic-Orthodox state akin to Prussia or Scandinavia, deeply integrated into European civilization. But history took another path. Novgorod’s destruction was not merely conquest; it was ethnocide – the extermination of a nascent European identity in the northeast, leaving only Muscovite despotism in its wake.
Ukraine: The Heir to Novgorod’s Struggle
Today, Ukraine stands as Novgorod once did – an Eastern Slavic beacon of European civilization, defying the darkness of Muscovy’s successor state, Russia. Just as Novgorod’s prosperity and freedoms enraged Muscovites, Ukraine’s vibrant human capital and Western orientation provoked Russian resentment. The savagery of Russia’s war – its rapes, tortures, and mass executions – mirrors the brutal fate Novgorod suffered centuries ago.
Muscovy relied on the Golden Horde’s resources to destroy Novgorod, just as modern Russia exploits its Eurasian empire and allies – conscripting Buryats, Yakuts, and North Koreans, and seeking aid from China and Iran to fuel its war. Even Russia’s hysterical propaganda – accusing Ukraine of spearheading “NATO expansion”, and the spread of “Nazism” and “LGBT ideology” – echoes Muscovy’s past paranoia over Novgorod’s alleged Catholic “betrayal”. Then, as now, Moscow cannot tolerate an independent Slavic state forging ties with its natural allies in the West.
But history need not repeat itself. Novgorod’s allies in the 15th century were too weak, or too indifferent, to save it from Muscovy’s wrath. Today, the West is stronger – and must remain resolute. Ukraine’s victory over Russia would achieve what Novgorod could not: anchoring the Eastern Slavic realm firmly within European civilization. A Russian triumph, in contrast, would plunge the region back into tyranny and darkness.
Moreover, to dismantle Russia’s imperial legacy, the lands of historic Novgorod – where Muscovy’s conquest first set Russia towards its imperial path – must be reclaimed for European civilization. Only by undoing this foundational trauma can the Eastern Slavic world, under Ukrainian leadership, rediscover its rightful place in the West.

Cemil Kerimoglu
Software Engineer | Eastern European History Enthusiast