In the decades following the disintegration of the Soviet Union “Eurasia” readily emerged as a convenient (and disputed) term to designate the former Soviet space. For some scholars, it contained the promise of revealing multifaceted cross-cultural (across the Old World) and cross-disciplinary (across disciplines studying the Old World) encounters within that space. For others, “Eurasia” was a geopolitical concept rooted in Russian imperial tradition and its extensive use entailed a recuperation of cultural and political strategies of the former imperial center (von Hagen, 2004a, von Hagen, 2004b, Kotkin, 2007a and Kotkin, 2007b Annual conference of the Havighurst Center, 2006).1 This ambivalence with respect to “Eurasia” continues to draw attention to the legacy of the Eurasianist movement which for the first time employed the term “Eurasia” to describe the former Russian Empire and to endow “Eurasia” with cultural, political and geographical content (Böss, 1962, Glebov, 2008, Laruelle, 1999, Riasanovsky, 1964, Riasanovsky, 1967, Riasanovsky, 1972a and Wiederkehr, 2007).2 Eurasianism as an intellectual and political movement emerged among the émigrés from the former Russian Empire in the 1920s and dissolved in the early 1930s. Central to the Eurasianist ideology was a holistic vision of Eurasia as a geographical system, an ethno-cultural unity, and a political space. Eurasianist thinkers considered this vision both as an outcome of specific historical processes, in particular due to the impact of the Mongol empire which for the first time united in one political entity the Eurasian space, and as a locus of unique, autarkic development. This autarkic development marked Eurasia as a space opposed to the phenomena which the Eurasianists associated with modern Europe, in particular to Europe’s ever increasing individualistic and materialistic spirit. Not unlike their predecessors in the 19th century, the Slavophiles, the Eurasianist thinkers saw Orthodox Christianity as a kernel of Eurasia’s identity. They treated the Russian revolution as a religiously meaningful historical transformation and expected a religious revival among the Russians that would help dislodge the Bolsheviks from power and establish a truly Eurasian government (Glebov, 2003, pp. 293–337).3 Observers, back in the 1920s and now, often found Eurasianism bewildering. If the Eurasianist ideology represented an intellectual turn to Russia’s Asian connections, then how could this turn be reconciled with a stress on Orthodox religiosity so characteristic of Eurasianist thinkers? If indeed, as Nikolai Trubetskoi suggested, “the elemental, national uniqueness and the non-European, half-Asiatic face of Russia–Eurasia was becoming more visible than ever” in the wake of the Russian revolution, then how could the Revolution “be overcome on the firm grounds of Orthodox religiosity?” To answer these questions, I will argue below that the Eurasianist movement offered its own vision of the national mystique, which combined influences of Russian fin-de-siècle modernism, a proto-fascist search for the regeneration of national life, and a peculiar interpretation of Russian history in the wake of the empire’s dissolution.