Afew years after the dissolution of Czechoslovakia in 1993, known as the “velvet divorce”, the newly independent Slovakian state to the south was already a cause of concern. The US secretary of state at the time, Madeleine Albright, called it “the black hole” of Europe. Eventually, in 2004 Slovakia joined the EU and Nato. The assumption then in the west was that the country, finally, had a settled identity and a settled set of alliances. Then came Robert Fico, a prototype populist. He was an early embracer of identity politics: the good men and women of toil in the small towns and villages versus the metropolitan elite in Bratislava, the capital, with their imported ideas. As prime minister between 2006 and 2010 and then 2012 to 2018, he fulminated against the west for his domestic audience, exploiting the insecurities of many in central Europe after the financial crash. Now, with Fico in a parlous condition, this country of 5 million people stands on the brink. Whether or not the prime minister survives and is able to resume his office, the divisions already laid bare could lead to widespread civil unrest. It is still possible that the shock of Wednesday’s assassination attempt may enable wiser heads to prevail, for a government of national unity to be formed and for hostilities to be toned down. Given the statements of several of Fico’s ministers, blaming “the media” and hostile elements, the omens do not look promising. Slovakia is no stranger to violence. In February 2018, Ján Kuciak, a young investigative journalist who had been looking into corruption involving Fico’s government, EU subsidies and the Italian mafia, was gunned down by contract killers at his flat outside the capital. His fiancee, Martina Kušnírová, an archaeologist, was murdered with him. Their deaths shook Slovakia to its core. In the biggest demonstrations since the velvet revolution that brought down communism in 1989, tens of thousands of Slovaks took to the streets to express their fury. Eventually, Fico and his entire cabinet were forced to resign – not before he accused the US billionaire George Soros of fomenting the protests. Hope arose from the horror, but that hope did not last long. In June 2019, an environmental activist and lawyer, Zuzana Čaputová, sensationally won the presidential election. Months later a new government was voted in, presaging change. Within weeks of it taking office, however, the pandemic began, and so did its troubles. Slovakia had four prime ministers in four years. Successive coalitions came and went, each struggling to cope with Covid, inflation, the energy crisis and the war in Ukraine. Cue a remarkable return for Fico, who models himself on his friend Viktor Orbán, the leader of neighbouring Hungary. Like Orbán, he spent his most recent period in opposition moving further to the right, railing against the decision by the Slovakian government to send weapons to Ukraine. Per capita, Slovakia was one of Kyiv’s staunchest backers, becoming the first Nato country to send fighter jets. While making a BBC radio documentary on the parliamentary elections in September 2023, I was struck, visiting several different regions, by the atmosphere of them-or-us denunciation and competing truths. One leading Fico ally, Ľuboš Blaha, told me in an interview for the programme that the Ukraine war was based around competing cultural values. Slovakia, he declared, did not want to be swayed by pro-gay “liberal fascists” defending Ukraine. Blaha is now deputy speaker of parliament. Fico called Čaputová, his own head of state, an “American agent”. She in turn warned of an “information storm” from the right, supported by Russia. Ominously, after initiating legal action against him, she declared she had had enough and would not stand for a second presidential term. The election campaign was dominated by two entirely separate narratives – Fico the putative dictator and Fico the proud patriot. The result was close, but he prevailed, his Smer-SD party winning the largest share of the votes and leading a rightwing coalition. Within weeks it became clear that many of the worst fears of liberals were going to be realised. Fico carried out a 180-degree turn on Ukraine, stopping weapons sales (although, to be fair, Slovakia had given away all its existing stock, and that was replaced by more modern weaponry courtesy of Nato). In Orbán and Fico, Putin now has two sympathetic leaders in the heart of Europe. Neither have any intention of leaving Nato or the EU, preferring to be an internal thorn. The battle for Slovakia’s future will continue to be fought for and through the media. Liberal outlets are already feeling the pressure. The most heated battle, very much ongoing, is the government legislation to replace the public broadcaster, RTVS, with a more pliant, “patriotic” one. Demonstrations against the move were scheduled for Wednesday evening and hastily cancelled after Fico’s shooting. The tragedy for Slovakia is that many of its young mobile workforce are choosing to leave. Some are going across to the border to its neighbour, where the contrast is stark. In 2023, the Czech Republic elected as its president the staunchly pro-western Petr Pavel. For the moment at least, the bigger brother has chosen a different course. John Kampfner is an author and broadcaster, and made the BBC World Service documentary Slovakia Divided