Christos Mantas and Konstantina Oikonomou are Visiting Researchers at the Department of Political Science and International Relations of the University of the Peloponnese. Their current research project, “Liminal Spaces and Identity at the Margins: The North Azovian Greeks of Ukraine (Urums and Roumeans) in Conflict and Transition,” examines the historical vulnerability and contemporary fragmentation of this minority group within the broader context of war, forced displacement, and contested memory. The project will be presented at the upcoming 12th European Workshops in International Studies (EWIS), where Konstantina serves as convenor of the workshop “Exploring Liminal Spaces in International Politics and International Law: Critical Perspectives on Conflict and Transition”.

For the interview responses, 'CM' refers to Christos Mantas and 'KO' refers to Konstantina Oikonomou.

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Where do you see the most exciting research/debates happening in your field?

CM: My field of research is on AI and its acceptance and usage, which is indeed an exciting field. However, I have an interest in politics and in the Northern Azovian Greek community, which is suffering from the impact of a brutal invasion and the lack of research or interest from the Greek side on this topic. The knowledge I have personally gained in crowdfunding for Ukraine, and my interactions with North Azovian Greeks, have sparked my interest in this research.

KO: My work lies at the intersection of International Relations and International Law, with a particular focus on the theoretical and critical debates that animate both disciplines. Some of the most exciting research in these fields today emerges at the intersections between disciplines, geographies, and epistemologies. A growing body of work interrogates the colonial foundations of the international order, questions the supposed universality of international norms, and foregrounds structural asymmetries in global governance. This scholarship challenges the boundaries between law and politics, theory and practice, centre and periphery, and it often draws on critical traditions that had long been marginalised within mainstream IR.

The study of the North Azovian Greeks exemplifies why these in-between spaces matter. This community, comprising two distinct linguistic groups — the Urums and the Roumeans — has historically occupied a liminal position at the intersection of overlapping sovereignties and conflicting national narratives. Their experience shows how communities and identities that exist in between often reveal the tensions and contradictions embedded in the structures of norms and governance. In this sense, liminality is not just a descriptive label: it becomes a conceptual and analytical tool that exposes the structural gaps that persist even where formal recognition exists. For example, while the North Azov Greeks fall under Ukraine’s formal category of ethnic minorities, and thus within the scope of instruments like the FCNM and Article 27 ICCPR, these frameworks primarily guarantee individual rights exercised in community — they do not provide robust collective guarantees such as self-determined governance or the right to free, prior and informed consent. In contrast, regimes governing indigenous peoples’ rights, such as UNDRIP or ILO Convention No. 169, enshrine collective entitlements that can offer stronger safeguards for cultural survival and community agency.

This is not just a conceptual exercise: it reveals how partial recognition — for example, when a community is formally acknowledged as a minority but denied collective rights and indigenous status — reproduces structural liminality within legal systems that claim universality, yet leave such communities functionally under-protected. This kind of research, which situates micro-level lived experience within the macro-level contradictions of international law and governance, is where I see some of the most urgent and generative debates unfolding in our field today.

How has the way you understand the world changed over time, and what (or who) prompted the most significant shifts in your thinking?

CM:  I wouldn’t say that my understanding of the world has fundamentally changed, but rather that it has been profoundly enriched — especially in light of the war in Ukraine. Before, I might have seen global conflicts more abstractly, as distant geopolitical struggles shaped by history, diplomacy, or economics. But the war made me confront, in a deeply human way, how fragile security, identity, and belonging can be. It exposed how quickly everyday life can collapse and how individuals and communities are forced to navigate displacement, fear, and the struggle for survival.

Perhaps the most significant shift in my thinking came through listening to people directly affected — whether displaced Ukrainians, Russian dissidents, or ethnic minorities like the Crimean Tatars. Their stories challenged simplified narratives and showed me how war distorts truth, reshapes memory, and reveals the limits of international institutions. It made me more aware of the emotional dimensions of geopolitics — trauma, resilience, nostalgia — and more critical of black-and-white thinking. So, while my worldview wasn’t overturned, it became more layered, more skeptical of easy answers, and more attuned to the voices that are often left out of dominant narratives.

KO: Over time, my understanding of the world has shifted from an initial belief in the coherence and emancipatory potential of international norms and institutions to a more critical awareness of the disjuncture between their proclaimed ideals and their material effects. While I was first drawn to international law for its promise of order, justice, and accountability, deeper theoretical engagement and empirical observation revealed how legal frameworks often serve to stabilise inequality, obscure structural violence, and reproduce hierarchies under the guise of neutrality. A significant shift occurred through my encounter with critical international theory, which challenged the compartmentalisation of law and politics and revealed their entangled role in the maintenance of global power. Equally transformative were encounters with lived experiences of war, displacement, and dispossession, which rendered abstract principles inadequate and called for a form of scholarship that is ethically attuned, reflexive, and attentive to the real-world consequences of legal and political structures.

How did Greek communities come to form in the Northern Azov region of Ukraine, which includes cities like Mariupol?

CM: Greek communities in the Northern Azov region of Ukraine, particularly in and around cities like Mariupol, were established primarily in the late 18th century as a result of forced migrations and imperialist policy during the time of the Russian Empire, so as to “Russify” the Crimean Peninsula – essentially, a form of ethnic cleansing of Greeks, Tatars, Germans and other people who lived in Crimea. It is essential to note that prior to the 18th century, a substantial Greek population resided in the Crimean Peninsula, comprising descendants of ancient Greek colonists, Byzantine settlers, and later migrants. These Greeks — known as Crimean Greeks — had lived for centuries under the Ottoman Empire and later under the Crimean Khanate, a vassal state of the Ottomans. They practiced Orthodox Christianity, spoke Greek or Turkic dialects (notably Urum), and maintained distinct cultural and religious........

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