Eurasiatique

EURASIATIQUE VOLUME III

European, Russian, and EurasIan Studies Student Journal

EURASIATIQUE volume III 2015

radicalization IsSue

staff Senior Editors

assistant editors

samuel j. baird

Anastasia Leshchyshyn Connie Lo Cara Poblador Petar Prazic Natalia Talashkevich Joshua Tapper Emily Trudeau

denis kierans gregory kerr hafeeza murji

advisor Edith Klein Program Advisor, Centre for European, Russian, and Eurasian Studies

designer hilary kitz

Š2015 Eurasiatique No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including, including photocopy, or any information storage or retrieval system, without permission from the Eurasiatique Editorial Board.

Permission for reproducing excerpts from this volume can be found at www.ceresgraduatejournal.com.

Inquiries can also be directed to: The Centre for European, Russian, and Eurasian Studies, 1 Devonshire Place, Toronto, ON, M5S 3K7, or by contacting ceresjournal@gmail.com. cover image: Scorched car in Paris Suburb November 2005 by Alain Bachellier - Flickr. Licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons.

Cover and text design by Hilary Kitz, www.hilarykitz.com photos: Unless otherwise specified, all images published in Eurasiatique Vol III are licensed under Creative Commons [CC BY-SA 2.0 or 3.0], sourced via Wikimedia Commons.

ISBN # 978-0-7727-0942-4 Printed in Canada.

contents ARTICLES 12

Anna V. Kirvas

Russian Nationalism Online

20

Emily Trudeau

27

David Martineau

Who Has the Youth Has the Power: Russia’s Nashi as Social Movement

Colombia and Russia: Two Conflicts, One Strategy

38

Marie Macauley

The Rise of Far-right Parties in Contemporary Europe: A Comparative Assessment of France and Hungary

47

Stephen Gellner

A Tale of Two Far-Right Parties: The Political Fortunes of Hungary’s Jobbik & Ukraine’s Svoboda Party

53

Anna Vozna

Russian Speakers’ Attitudes to (Non)-Accomodating Bilingualism in Ukraine

reviews 62

Amartya Biswas

Book Review: Anders Breivik and the Rise of Islamophobia By Sindre Bangstad

64

Rachel Trode

Book Review: Radicalization in Western Europe: Integration, public discourse, and loss of identity among Muslim communities By Caroline Goerzig and Khaled Al-Hashimi

66

Natasha Miletic

Book Review: Constructing Muslims in France: Discourse, Public Identity, and the Politics of Citizenship By Jennifer Fredette (...)

reviews [cont.]

68

Rishen Lord

Book Review: Eurojihad: Patterns of Islamist Radicalization and Terrorism in Europe

By Angel Rabas and Cheryl Benard

70

Isabel Villeneuve

Film Review: How Much Further? By the European Council on Refugees and Exiles, and the Greek Forum of Refugees and Matthias Wiessler

72

Karolina Dejnicka

Film Review: Fascism, Inc. Directed by Aris Chatzistefanou

dispatches 75

Ben McVicker

Letter from Kiev

Acknowledgements

This year’s edition of Eurasiatique would not have been possible without the generous support and contribution from the Centre for European, Russian and Eurasian Studies and its donors at the University of Toronto. The editors would like to specially thank CERES Program Advisor, Dr. Edith Klein for her generous commitment of time, and unwavering support in helping the editorial team to realize this project. A special thank you as well to this year’s contributors, our wonderful assistant editors and fabulous graphic designer for all their hard work and efforts in making this year’s edition a success.

For more information please visit: www.ceresjournal.com. Inquiries and comments may be emailed to: ceresjournal@gmail.com.

foreword Since 9/11, the term ‘radicalization’ has become increasingly mainstream. Frequently used by media outlets, academics, policy makers, think-tanks and governments, the term is widely employed to describe extremist beliefs and behaviour.1 However, there exist tensions in both public and academic discourse as to the proper definition and scope of radicalization, and the term remains ambiguous despite its apparent ubiquity.2 This year’s edition of Eurasiatique explores radicalization as an amorphous and pervasive force in contemporary Europe. Within the European context today, this type of radicalism often finds expression as racial or religious supremacy – ideologies that deny the validity of basic human rights or of fundamental democratic principles.3 Right-wing and far-right nationalist parties from across Europe that embrace these beliefs – including France’s Front National, Hungary’s Jobbik, and the Sweden Democrats – have gained startling ground in recent domestic and European elections. Jobbik, for instance, won 20.2 percent of Hungary’s popular vote in 2014. While party leader Gabor Vona is currently striving to project a more sympathetic image of the party, memories of the Hungarian Guard holding intimidation marches as recently as 2010 in Roma and low-income neighborhoods remain fresh in peoples’ minds. In a similar vein, Greece’s far-right Golden Dawn party has been described as “neo-Nazi,” accused of propagating ideas of the Greeks being a “superior race,” and openly supports anti-immigrant, anti-EU and antiNato policies.4 Despite the party leadership’s many run-ins with the law, Golden Dawn still managed to come in third with 6.3 percent of the vote in the January 2015 Greek election.

Radicalism, however, has multiple theatres, and wears many faces – not all of which are burdened by the concern of electoral appeal. We must here take stock of the tragic events that occurred this year, such as the attack on Charlie Hebdo in France ( January, 2015), the mass shooting at Copenhagen’s Krudttønden cafe at Østerbro (February, 2015), and the massacre of foreign tourists at Tunisia’s Bardo Museum (March, 2015). These have prompted

shock and disgust in audiences around the world.

Anger and fear are never far behind, but often cloud the issues as they are, in turn, harvested for political capital. This begs the eternal question: what is to be done? On the one hand, in their bid to overturn the established order, radical parties make use of the very systems they seek to pervert and destroy; on the other, radical and extremist groups harness the power of social media to attract those left feeling isolated, disenfranchised, and resentful of the status quo, and, having wound them up to the point of fanaticism, unleash them upon unsuspecting victims. In both cases, the tools of democracy have been turned against it, and governments around the world are struggling to face what are arguably ageold challenges under new guises. In many ways, this year’s submissions to Eurasiatique sound the depths of this paradox, and seek to make sense of it.

Despite the best efforts of governments, radical groups and ideologies continue to gain ground. Anna Kirvas explores how nationalist groups in Russia use digital spaces to recruit followers and promote their ideological platforms.

She describes a complex interplay of online and offline nationalist activity as a strategy for these extremist groups to survive and flourish in the face of government crackdowns. Her findings point to the success and resilience of nationalist groups that shuttle between these two spheres, collecting members and attracting media attention in the process. For Kirvas, nationalism and nationalist groups in Russia cannot be pinned down. Rather, they are adapting: migrating to the social domains of an increasingly populous (and hard-to-monitor) online world, while simultaneously dictating the nature of discourse therein.

Emily Trudeau’s contribution discusses Nashi, a pro-Kremlin youth movement in Russia, which was active from 2005 until being officially disbanded in 2013. Trudeau argues that despite being controlled by the Kremlin, Nashi still exhibited a number of traits indicative of traditional social movements. The framework of the article also serves as a stepping-stone for further research in exploring how social movements function in illiberal states.

In a comparative study of Russian counterinsurgency strategies in Chechnya and Colombian actions against Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia (FARC), David Martineau argues that there is a double standard in scholarship on these two themes. Outlining a number of significant similarities between the two cases, Martineau seeks to address, inter alia, the apparent paradox that while the Colombian case is often depicted in a positive manner and is cast as a bid to strengthen democracy, the Russian case is often portrayed in quite the opposite light. The author argues that these two cases ought to be analyzed from the same perspective if scholars are to avoid the kind of double-standards that ultimately impoverish our understanding of these types of phenomena.

Separately, Marie Macauley and Stephen Gellner compare and contrast some of Europe’s most prominent far-right parties. Both take Hungary’s Jobbik as a point of comparison, with Gellner comparing it to Ukraine’s Svoboda, and Macauley to France’s Front National (FN). Though in many ways distinct, their texts are haunted by a common inquiry: to what extent do these parties constitute a serious threat to the established liberal order in Europe?

Ultimately, Macauley warns against dismissing the FN outright or attributing Jobbik’s rise in popularity to a temporary aberration. Instead she argues that Europe should meaningfully engage with the issue of radicalism rather than sweep it under the rug.

Gellner, for his part, contrasts the electoral fortunes of Svoboda, which has seen its vote share drop in the wake of the Ukrainian crisis, and Jobbik, which continues to make political inroads in Hungary. Key to these parties’ success, he suggests, is their ability to monopolize right-wing discourse at the national level, a prerogative Svoboda lost amidst the rising tide of nationalism in Ukraine.

In the wake of the Euromaidan crisis in 2014, conflict along ethnic and linguistic lines in Crimea and Ukraine has become increasingly salient, and has led to the emergence of radical groups such as the Radical Party of Oleh Lyashko, and the AllUkrainian Union Svoboda. Anna Vozna’s article addresses issues of bilingualism and accommodation

in Ukraine, and analyzes how Ukrainian and Russian-speaking politicians are perceived by Russophone audiences. Vozna’s contribution offers some insights into possible strategies for reducing regional strife; aspiring politicians would do well to take note.

Ben McVicker picks up on radicalization in Ukraine from a first-hand perspective. Currently living in Kiev, McVicker’s opinion piece reflects a constellation of radical myths wherein everyday citizens, expats, and politicians struggle to make sense of their uncertain past, present, and future.

He finds that radicalization does not just manifest as the ‘direct action’ of extremists or on Election Day. Neither is it necessarily groomed; its adherents need not always be actively recruited. Rather, McVicker describes how violence, instability, a divided population, and mediocre leadership can foster grassroots, multipolar radicalization among average residents. These largely private vignettes attest to a tendency (if not a preference) for individuals to adopt radical beliefs in order to combat or simply live in what they perceive as an increasingly radicalized and hostile environment.

Radicalism, both within and beyond Europe, is as pressing an issue as it has ever been.

The third volume of Eurasiatique strives to map out this shifting and uncertain terrain. One of the greatest dangers facing the West today is to leave radicalism unexamined, and, in combating it, to conveniently forget that many of “them” were once one of “us.”

Sincerely, The Eurasiatique Editorial Board.

Samuel J. Baird Gregory Kerr Denis Kierans Hafeeza Murji

NoteS 1. Peter R. Neumann, “The Trouble with Radicalization,” International Affairs 89, no. 4 (2013): 873.

2. Ibid., 873-874.

3. Roger Scruton, The Palgrave Macmillan Dictionary of Political Thought, 3rd ed., (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007).

4.

Lawrence Peter, “Greek elections: Jail Fails to Deter Far-Right Golden Dawn,” BBC News Online ( January 26, 2015), http://www.bbc.com/news/blogs-eu-30980002.

Articles

12

russian nationalism onlinE

anna kirvas Discourse on national

identity, national community, sense of belonging, and nationalism has spread beyond print literature, and now fully manifests itself online. Contemporary “virtual communities” not only offer vast amounts of ideologically-driven information, but also serve as a platform for rigorous debate.1 The emergence of printing press capitalism in the eighteenthcentury paved the way for modern-day nationalism, and for the formation of “imagined communities” across the globe.2 Although the relations between cyberspace and nationalism remain unclear, they are undoubtedly complex and far-reaching. The Internet has become an essential part of social interaction. Yet, it is far less regulated than the offline domain. Online communities no longer simply reflect the real world; rather, they influence it in kind. Cyberspace has become a breeding ground for opposition voices,3 a platform for transnationalist

development in diaspora communities,4 a mechanism of identity construction,5 and a tool for leverage in policy making.6 Online activities have aided in the proliferation of social protests and demonstrations, and have taken an instrumental role in their organization.7

To various degrees, Russian nationalistic groups have used online opportunities to disseminate their ideas, promote upcoming events, and attract new members. Some maintain an active online presence through social networks, websites, forums, and blogs, while others employ these tools selectively and/or sparingly. The following review of nationalistic online communities explores the online manifestations of Russian radical nationalism.

Photo: Fist fight at a Nationalist Russian march in Novosibirsk. via the ‘Movement Against Immigration’ website.

anna kirvas

Methodology

Data for this study were collected from the online and offline interactions of radical nationalistic groups operating in Russia in fall 2014. Groups were selected using the SOVA Center’s guide, “Radical Russian Nationalism: Structure, Ideas and Individuals;”8 Wikipedia’s list of Russian nationalistic organizations;9 and a snowballing technique to procure references from online communities. The goal of this data collection exercise was not to compile an exhaustive list of Russian radical nationalistic groups, but rather to map their presence within Russian cyberspace and social networks.

In order to evaluate the impact of these radical online nationalistic resources, they were first categorized according to their online or offline presence. Three types of groups were identified: those that occupy both online and offline spheres, and those that are strictly limited to either online or offline interactions. Next, these three groups were analyzed within the context of their presence on VKontakte,10 the most popular social network in Russia.

Groups with only an offline presence

Some radical nationalistic groups and organizations limit their activities to offline interactions. As a rule, these groups are the most radical, ultra-nationalistic, and neo-Nazi oriented of the nationalistic groups and organizations analyzed.

Often declared “extremist” and prohibited by law, these groups are few and far between. Still, despite the paucity of these groups, both in numbers and online presence, they are quite active.11 Examples include Schultz-88, the Mad Crowd, the Military Terrorist Organization (BTO), and the BorovikovVoevodin group.

These groups often receive publicity postfactum, when indictments are issued and core members are convicted. For example, Schultz-88 was active in Saint-Petersburg between 2001 and 2003, when they spearheaded numerous group attacks, often brandishing improvised weapons. Yet the group’s members gained notoriety among the

russian nationalism online

13

wider public after 2004 when their campaign of violence was cut short by their arrest and trial. The founder of the group, Dmitrii Bobrov, was charged with extremist activities and convicted in 2005.

Likewise, Mad Crowd and the Borovikov-Voevodin group, which operated roughly at the same time and closely cooperated with Shultz-88, became widely known in subsequent years with the arrest and conviction of its members. Aleksei Voevodin and Artem Prokhorenko were sentenced to life imprisonment in 2011 for the murder of Nikolai Girenko, the human rights activist and Russia’s leading expert on racism and discrimination.

Cyberspace has become a breeding ground for opposition voices, a platform for transnationalist development in diaspora communities, a mechanism of identity construction, and a tool for leverage in policy making.

Lacking their own online platform, these groups occasionally announce their upcoming activities using other organizations’ websites and/ or forums. For example, the so-called tribunal judgment for Girenko, which “sentenced” him to capital punishment by firing squad, was published on the website of the Russkaia Respublika organization a week before the actual murder took place.12 Guidance notes, directives, and messages from members already convicted are often reposted on several websites, including the forum of the Movement Against Illegal Immigration (DPNI), as well as numerous LiveJournal accounts and blogs.

In this way, Aleksei Voevodin, associated with the BTO, Mad Crowd, and Borovikov-Voevodin groups, sends his “Sieg Heil” from prison to his sympathizers.13

The decision of these groups not to extend their online presence can be explained by their intention to uphold extraordinary measures of secrecy. There are no instances of public events that were directly initiated or organized by these groups, although their members usually participate in

14

Overall, groups that are active only online tend to serve as conduits for information and platforms for discussion. These Web communities do not initiate widespread public activity, but assist those who do by advertising events of interest to their readership. For example, they provided broad informational coverage for the rally on Manezhnaia Square in December 2010, which was provoked by the murder of Egor Sviridov.22

Groups with both online and offline presence

Russian March 2008 by Dmitriy at ru.wikipedia.

Licensed under CC via Wikimedia Commons.

broader nationalistic demonstrations and meetings, such as the annual Russian March on November 4, and various opposition riots.

Groups with exclusively online presence

On the other side of the spectrum are groups that reside only online. They often unite those members of society who share various ultra-nationalistic views, but opt not to engage openly with established organizations. These groups provide information regarding upcoming large-scale public action, as well as updates on the current developments of their ultra-radical peers.

For example, the Agency of Russian Information, which since 2001 has claimed to be the “national enlightenment portal for ethnic Russians,”14 regularly covers domestic and international events.

It publishes articles on the goals and means of Russian nationalism, and even broadcasts its own radio program. Similar online communities such as Russkoe Delo,15 Russovet,16 and Russkii Forum17 also serve as information and propaganda portals, as well as discussion platforms. Such Web communities usually link readers to institutionalized nationalistic organizations – such as Russkie,18 DPNI,19 Russian National Unity (RNU),20 and the Slavic Union (SS)21 – and report on their activities as brothersin-arms.

The most prominent examples of groups with both online and offline representation include: (1) those of the radical right such as Pamiat, Northern Brotherhood, and Russian National Unity; (2) their offshoot movements like Russkie (which unites forty nationalistic organizations) and the Union of Russian People, a modern monarchic movement; and (3) prohibited organizations such as the DPNI, the Russian All-National Union, the SS, and the National Socialist Initiative.

These groups participate in collective mass actions offline, organize their own events and rallies, as well as maintain regularly updated websites. This category includes the most institutionalized radical nationalistic organizations in contemporary Russia, which are usually not event-driven, but rather have a defined overarching agenda, clear ideology, and an extensive network of sub-organizations and representatives in different parts of the country.

This is the most commonly recognized category of nationalistic groups among mainstream Russian society today, as their activities receive the bulk of media attention and include large-scale public events, such as the Russian March on November 4, the Day of National Unity.23

Their strong online and offline presence allows these organizations to react and adapt to legal interventions. For example, in 2011 the Moscow municipal court officially banned the DPNI, one of the most active nationalistic organizations in Russia at the time. During its official existence, the group organized and coordinated a slew of mass events, pickets, rallies, and marches. Using their website, DPNI provided information, coverage,

anna kirvas

coordination, and anti-migrant propaganda during the Kondopoga pogroms in 2006 in the Republic of Karelia. Its leaders travelled from Moscow to take leading roles at rallies, where they argued for the expulsion of all migrants from the city.24 From 2006, DPNI served as one of the principal organizers of the annual Russian March on November 4. However, in the wake of its prohibited status, the Russian branch of the DPNI announced its “voluntary dissolution.”

The leadership was transferred to the DPNI Foreign Committee and its official website dpni.org now claims that the group acts only outside of the Russian Federation. Notwithstanding, the website features daily news updates concerning Russia, as well as publications, an information database, video content, contact information, and a discussion forum. As such, and despite the court’s ruling, dpni. org was able to serve as one of the coordination platforms – as a mechanism of agitation and as a broadcaster of meeting times and locations of demonstrations across Russia – for the Russian March in 2011, seven months after its indictment and subsequent ban.25

A similar strategy was pursued by the SS, which was banned by the Moscow municipal court in April 2010. It, too, opted to become active through an online domain, namely demushkin.com.26 In order to continue to foster offline activity, Alexander Potkin and Dmitry Demushkin, respective leaders of the DPNI and the SS, founded the coalition Russkie, uniting more than forty nationalist organizations

1990s photo of the Russian National Unity group, via RNU blog, ‘Evil Russia’. src: https://evilrussia.files.wordpress. com/2013/01/0t4xu_w465h262.jpg

russian nationalism online

15

The so-called tribunal judgment for Girenko, which “sentenced” him to capital punishment by firing squad, was published on the website of the Russkaia Respublika organization a week before the actual murder took place. throughout Russia. Under the umbrella of Russkie, DPNI and SS have continued to participate in mass activities throughout Russia and, allegedly, have been able to preserve their former structures.27 Institutionalized groups which boast activity both online and offline are more adaptable and as such have a higher chance of survival; if their offline domain is compromised, they simply shift their weight online, and vice-versa.

Presence in social networks

Acknowledging the opportunities provided by social media resources, radical nationalistic groups have also expanded their online presence to communities in Russian social networks where they are able to gauge popular support. One important feature that distinguishes nationalistic communities in social networks from standalone websites is the lower cost of establishing and maintaining the group in a social network context. Even though there are various free hosting options and weblog publishing tools available, many standalone websites opt for catchy names. Consequently, domain purchase and hosting, as well as website development, requires real investment. On the other hand, communities in social networks can be founded and maintained free of charge. With little at stake they can be created or dismantled in mere seconds. Other advantages include the capacity to share news and events almost instantly with a large audience of potentially interested users.28 As a result, the presence of nationalist groups in social media is prominent.29 Many of these online societies are ‘closed’ to the public and some require an administrator’s approval to access the content.

The majority of the communities serve as discussion

16 Table 1 – Social Network Representation for Off/Online groups Number of Official communities DPNI

1

SS

2

Pamiat

Ethnopolitical unity “Russians”

Northern Brotherhood

National Socialist Initiative

Number of members of Official communities

Approximate number of Sympathizer communities

Approximate total number sympathizers

1,393

152

3,066

and

361

12,688

2,402 1,054

1

3,094

3

588

1

18,282

80

23,000

1

817

7

306

1

8,872

5

3,753

platforms for registered users only. Open groups allow for outsiders to post messages, whereas closed groups have a high level of centralized control over their ideology and propaganda, often verging on outright censorship.

Radical nationalistic communities in social networks vary by their size, their establishing rationale (original/official vs. sympathizer), and by the level of control exercised over the community by its leadership (moderated vs. un-moderated). Of the nationalistic groups and organizations discussed above, those that had a social media presence boasted membership numbers from 3 to more than 100,000.

Generally, these communities were founded in one of two distinct ways, which distinguishes them as either an original or a sympathizer community.

Original communities satisfy all of the following: (1) they claim to be the official representation of the group in the social network; (2) they have a link to their main website (if applicable); and (3) they have far more members/followers than communities with a similar name. Sympathizer communities do not satisfy all of these criteria.

Unsurprisingly, those nationalistic groups that are strictly offline do not have official social network representation. Five sympathizer communities with the name “Mad Crowd,” all of which commemorate Dmitrii Borovikov, the late

founder of Mad Crowd and the Borovikov-Voevodin groups, were identified.30 Their membership is minor, often fewer than 30 participants. Sympathizer communities for other nationalistic groups are also numerically insignificant. One community, “in support of BTO,” and thirteen groups in support of “Dmitrii Borovikov” had memberships ranging from 3 to 20 members, with the exception of the 2,065 members of Dmitrii Borovikov’s fan page. As a rule, the majority of these communities are closed to the public.

Among groups that operate only online, the following sympathizer communities were identified: the Agency of Russian Information – two communities, the most numerous consisting of 2,265 members; Russkoe Delo – three communities, the most numerous boasting 3,382 members.

Russovet had no sympathizer communities. These results were anticipated since the activity of onlineexclusive groups revolves around their own wellmaintained websites. As expected, groups that are active both online and offline are much more widely represented on social networks (Table 1).

Social network communities are either controlled or uncontrolled. Controlled communities require a moderator’s approval to access contents and participate in the discussion. Official communities of the groups that I was able to locate

anna kirvas

were always controlled. Access is granted by one of the administrators and usually requires an applicant to open his/her personal profile for public review.

Additionally, controlled groups carefully monitor the discussion boards. Normally, messages expressing sentiments against the group, its ideology, or its members are immediately deleted, and offenders are banned. Among the sympathizer communities, some are controlled. Others are uncontrolled – they exercise no control over membership and/or the discussion boards.

In addition to communities with eponymous names, VKontakte hosts numerous general groups with radical nationalistic themes. For example, when searching for group tags, “Russia for Russians” turned up 1,705 communities, the largest retaining a membership of 8,191; “Skinheads” returned 1,141 communities with 8,865 members in the most popular group; “Russian nationalism” returned 118 communities, the largest having 58,832 members; and “Russian march” returned 320 communities, the largest of which had 23,737 members.

Many of these social network communities, especially those that do not associate themselves with a particular group but have Russian nationalism as their main focus, are quite prevalent and active. Such types of communities have come to replace strictly online groups and have a much bigger audience than standalone websites. VKontakte communities proved to be an effective instrument to publically advertise events organized by groups that have both online and offline representation. For example, the Russian

Photo: Organized marchers, via the ‘Movement Against Immigration’ website.

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17

March of 2011, organized and coordinated by the Russkie group, received significant propaganda from VKontakte communities. More than one hundred meeting pages were created in anticipation of the November 4, 2011 event.

Conclusion

This analysis of the Internet activity of radical nationalistic groups has resulted in a number of findings. We have identified groups that are active either in offline or in online spheres, as well as those that breach these barriers and communicate between these two domains. Offline groups are the most radical and include neo-Nazi and skinhead gangs. As expected, these groups do not maintain websites, nor are they active in social networks.

Those groups that have an exclusive online presence generally act as information and discussion platforms. They do not initiate public mass actions, but actively transmit information on various meetings, demonstrations, and marches organized by a wide circle of Russian nationalists. These groups are not well represented in social media, as their stand-alone websites fully attend to the members’ needs.

Finally, the majority of radical nationalistic groups in contemporary Russia are active in both online and offline domains. All institutionalized multi-branched radical nationalistic groups belong to this category. Their broad scope of activities allows these groups to receive considerably more media and user attention than groups that are strictly offline or online. The above-demonstrated examples of DPNI and SS indicated that by maintaining active, regularly updated websites as well as official communities in the social networks, both groups were able to continue their activities after they were officially prohibited. Mutually shared links to online communities and websites, joint events, and overlapping leadership and members help keep Russian nationalists interconnected and provide wider grounds for information exchange among them. The tendency of these groups to attract a broader audience and diversify their online presence from standalone websites to numerous social media fan communities demonstrates that Russian

18 nationalism cannot be pinned down or easily located. Rather, it is dynamic force that continues to evolve and colonize new domains in order to further its agenda.

Anna V Kirvas is a PhD Candidate in the Doctoral School of Political Science, Public Policy and International Relations at the Central European University in Budapest, Hungary. Her research interests include immigrant-host relations, anti-immigrant hostility, hate-motivated violence, interethnic conflicts, migration, forced migration and refugees.

NOTES 1. Howard Rheingold, The Virtual Community: Homesteading on the Electronic Frontier (Reading, Mass.: Addison-Wesley, 1993), 325.

2. Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism (London: Verso, 1991), 224.

3. E. Anyefru, “Cyber-Nationalism: The Imagined Anglophone Cameroon Community in Cyberspace,” African Identities 6, no. 3 (2008): 253–274.

4. Chandrashekhar Bhat and K. Laxmi Narayan, “Indian Diaspora, Globalization and Transnational Networks: The South African Context,” Journal of Social Science 25 (2010): 13-23.

5. Brenda Chan, “Imagining the Homeland: The Internet and Diasporic Discourse of Nationalism,” Journal of Communication Inquiry 29 no. 4 (2005), 336-368.

6. Shaun Breslin and Simon Shen, “Online Chinese Nationalism,” Asia Programme Paper: ASP PP 2010/03 (2010): 12.

7. Alina Mungiu-pippidi and Igor Munteanu, “Moldova’s ‘Twitter Revolution’,” Journal of Democracy 20, no. 3 (2009): 136-142; Nikolai Petrov, Masha Lipman, and Henry E. Hale, “Overmanaged Democracy in Russia: Governance Implications of Hybrid Regimes,” Carnegie Papers 106 (2010): 40; Jack Linchuan Qiu, “The Changing Web of Chinese Nationalism,” Global Media and Communication 2, no. 1 (2006): 125-128.

8. SOVA Center, “Tsentr “SOVA” Vipustil Spravochnik “Radikal’nyi Russkii Natsionalism: Structuri, Idei, Litsa” (March 2, 2009), accessed January 20, 2015, http://www. sova-center.ru/racism-xenophobia/news/counteraction/2009/03/d15385/.

9. “Russkie Natsionalisticheskie Organizatsii,” accessed January 20, 2015, https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Русские_ националистические_организации.

10. vk.com, formerly vkontakte.ru.

11. Oleg Nikolayev, “Shultz-88: Skovannie Odnimi Naruchnikami,” Freelance Bureau: Agentstvo Federal’nykh Rassledovanii (May 24, 2004), accessed January 20, 2015, http://flb.ru/info/28254.html.

12. V. Iu. Popov, “Tribunal: Prigovor 1,” Russkaia Respublika ( June 12, 2004), accessed January 20, 2015, http://www. rusrepublic.ru/tribunal.html.

13. NS Taiga #1, “Interview s SVRom. (Alekseem Voyevodinym),” LiveJournal (December 3, 2007), accessed January 20, 2015, http://aleks-nn.livejournal.com/1721.html; Roman Tokarev, “Voyevodin ‘SVR’ Aleksei (interv’iu),” VKontakte (February 10, 2010), accessed January 20, 2015, http://vk.com/video58920548_139647534.

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14. Agentstvo Russkoi Informatsii, accessed January 20, 2015, http://ari.ru/.

15. Russkoe Delo, accessed January 20, 2015, http://www.russkoedelo.org/.

16. Russovet, accessed January 20, 2015, http://russovet.org/.

17. Russkii Forum, accessed January 20, 2015, http://rusforce.org.

18. Russkie: Etnopoliticheskoe Ob”edinenie, accessed January 20, 2015, http://rusnat.com/.

19. The movement was recognized by the court as extremist and banned in April 2011. As of August 9, 2011 the court decision has been in effect.

20. Russkoe Natsionalnoe Yedinstvo: Vserossiiskoe Obshchestvennoe Patrioticheskoe Dvizhenie, accessed January 20, 2015, http:// rusnation.org/; An offshoot of RNU, Aleksandr Barkashov, was created on December 16, 2006: Aleksandr Barkashov, accessed January 20, 2015, http://barkashov.net/.

21. On April 27, 2010 the Moscow City Court found the Slavic Union movement to be an illegal extremist group and prohibited its activities on Russian territory.

22. Egor Sviridov, an FC Spartak Moscow fan, was killed on December 6, 2010, during a violent clash between FC Spartak fans and immigrants from the North Caucasus.

23. Examples include news stories about radical organizations being declared extremist, prohibition of DPNI and the SS, discussion of ultra radical groups in talk shows by the most popular TV channels in Russia, ORT and NTV. 24. “4 Goda Nazad Sostoyalsya Narodnii Skhod v Kondopoge,” Movement Against Illegal Immigration (DPNI) (September 1, 2010), accessed January 20, 2015, http://dpni.org/articles/data/17047/.

25. The official website for Russian March 2011 reports that dpni.org provided the official map for the demonstration: “Russkii Marsh 2011: Nachalo Russkoi Vlasti,” Russkii Marsh, accessed January 20, 2015, http://rmarsh.info/novosti/russkij-marsh-2011-nachalo-russkoj-vlasti.html; “10 prichin “za” to, chtoby idti na russkii marsh,” DPNI (November 3, 2011), accessed January 20, 2015, http://dpni.org/articles/novostnaya/27040/.

26. Website unavailable as of late 2011/early 2012.

27. “Vorkutinskie natsional-patrioti prorvali metel’ marshem,” BNK Informatsionnoe Agentstvo (December 5, 2011), accessed January 20, 2015, http://www.bnkomi.ru/data/news/8206/; Maksim Bogatykh, “Novye ‘Russkie’,” Pravda.ru (May 5, 2011), accessed January 20, 2015, http://www.pravda.ru/politics/parties/other/05-05-2011/1075985-russkie-0/.

28. As of March 30, 2015 Vk.com is the second most visited website in Russia (thirty-eighth globally) according to the Alexa web traffic report service (http://www.alexa.com/siteinfo/vk.com). Ok.ru (formerly Odnoklassniki.ru) ranks eighth in Russia (117th globally).

29. On January 20, 2015, the search query for the tag “Russia for Russians” returned 1,705 communities on vk.com (and 204 on odnoklassniki.ru); “14/88” turned up 1,492 (and 23); and “Skinheads” yielded 1,141 (and 22).

30. Ten groups had zero or one member and were excluded from the data set.

20

Who has the Youth has the Future

Russia’s Nashi as a Social Movement1 emily trudeau

21

In response to the involvement of youth

groups in the Serbian, Georgian, and Ukrainian Colour Revolutions of the early 2000s, the Putin administration created in 2005 the pro-Kremlin youth movement Nashi (Ours). Intended to divert the political energies of Russian youth and represent the ruling United Russia party in street politics, Nashi quickly became a vociferous and occasionally belligerent organization.2 The Kremlin adopted a model for Nashi that was quite similar to Eastern European youth movements such as Otpor (Resistance) of Serbia; Pora (It’s Time) and Znayu (I Know) of Ukraine; and Kmara! (Enough!) of Georgia. Kremlin ideologues also based Nashi on its Soviet antecedent, the Communist Youth League (CYL) or Komsomol.3 As a hybrid product of Kremlin ideologue Vladislav Surkov, Nashi evolved into a tool of the state that provided young people with opportunities for political advancement while reinforcing the Kremlin’s ideology of sovereign democracy.4 Though dissolved in 2013, the development and actions of Nashi – as well as those of its successor groups – can inform our view of Kremlin youth policies from the mid-2000s to the present. Using the Dynamics of Contention model developed by social movement scholars Doug McAdam, John D. McCarthy, and Mayer N. Zald, the creation and actions of Nashi will be explored.5 Specifically, this paper focuses on the ways in which Nashi used political opportunities, mobilizing structures, and framing processes to focus the political energies of Russian youth. None of these three components is rigidly defined or hierarchized; instead, I claim, they are mutually reinforcing and equally necessary for the formation and survival of a social movement.

Social movement scholars have traditionally focused on the ways in which social movements are formed and sustained in democratic societies, often in opposition to the government and/or ruling elite. Several scholars, including Hank Johnston, Kevin O’Brien, and Paul Almeida, have studied the role of oppositional social movements in illiberal or authoritarian regimes, but few have explored the role of pro-government youth groups in the twenty-first century.6 Thus, through the frame of the widely accepted Dynamics of Contention

model, and with the incorporation of the work of several other social movement scholars, this paper attempts to demonstrate empirically how a government-sponsored youth group in an illiberal state can be loosely defined as a social movement.

I argue that Nashi conforms to Western definitions of a social movement despite the fact that, because of heavy-handed government oversight, its structure and actions deviate from typical social movement frames.

To demonstrate the ways in which Nashi is a loosely defined social movement, it is necessary to consider the historical and contemporary factors that contributed to its political opportunism, the framing processes it undertook, and its mobilizing structures. First, as a foundation of analysis, the traditional social movement is defined in relation to Nashi. Second, the Dynamics of Contention model is applied to Nashi’s ideology and actions. It is at this stage that the differences between Nashi and traditional social movements become apparent.

Finally, a brief comment is made about Nashi’s instrumentalism and its dissolution.

Nashi as a Social Movement One of the more commonly cited definitions of social movements is that provided by Sidney Tarrow, who defines them as an expression of “collective challenges, based on common purposes and social solidarities, in sustained interaction with elites, opponents, and authorities.” Within this definition, there are four empirical properties: collective challenge, common purpose, social solidarity, and sustained interaction.7 Nashi’s manifesto puts forward a range of common purposes and provides a starting point for defining it as a social movement. The manifesto outlines three main goals: to preserve the sovereignty and integrity of Russia (specifically against the threat of fascism); to support a patriotic, historically optimistic, and strategic leader who will modernize the country; and to form an active civil society.8 As a collective challenge to its members, Nashi’s manifesto makes sweeping statements regarding the movement and its role in ensuring Photo: 2012 Moscow Rally, By Bogomolov.PL (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons

22 the future of Russia. The document begins with a vague proclamation of Nashi’s significance as a “megaproject of Russia,” whose members will have the opportunity collectively to change the world and make Russia a leader in the twentyfirst century.9 Furthermore, as an expression of sovereign democracy, the manifesto emphasizes the individuality of Russia: “Only we should be the masters of our land. Only we should define ‘the rules of the game’ here. Our future should depend only on us.”10 The focus on Russian distinctiveness in this passage establishes two ideas: first, it promotes social solidarity through the creation of a new Russia, for Russians and by Russians; second, it establishes Nashi as a foil to opposition movements, which are labeled enemies by the Kremlin.

Political Opportunities Within the Dynamics of Contention model, and social movement theory more broadly, political opportunities are determined by the interactions between institutionalized political actors and social movements.

In assessing the use of political opportunities by social movement organizations, American scholars have attempted to explain the emergence of social movements based on institutional changes within individual political contexts.11 European scholars, on the other hand, have looked at cross-national similarities and differences in social movements more broadly, and the structures of their respective country’s political system. While different in scope, both American and European scholars are guided by the universal conviction “that social movements and revolutions are shaped by the broader set of political constraints and opportunities unique to the national context in which they are embedded.”12 In Nashi’s case, the theoretical conception of political opportunity does not fully apply. Typically, social movements are provided with the political Image: Nashi members attend Orthodox service at the 2007 Selinger Youth Forum.

space to launch their movement as a result of government or elite actions. As a creation of the state, however, Nashi did not have to wait for such a political opportunity. Moreover, in traditional discourse, the seizing of political opportunities often involves an interaction between state and non-state actors, which did not occur in Nashi’s case.

Instead, Nashi’s formation was in part a reaction to a perceived threat from civil society, completely reversing the typology that is usually ascribed to political opportunities in the social movement field.

Even so, Nashi was still affected by a clear set of political constraints unique to its national context. Nashi’s main purpose was to protect the Kremlin from the influence of successful youth movements outside Russia.

Within Russia, these external movements exerted influence upon political youth opposition groups such as Youth Yabloko, Walking without Putin, and Otpor’s equivalent in Russia, Oborona.

Through conferences and seminars abroad, external organizations – often with the assistance of Westernfunded NGOs – provided oppositional Russian youth movements with moral and technical support. While in the 2000s Russian opposition groups were never as well-organized as groups like Otpor and Pora, the mere existence of cross-national support provided the Kremlin with the political opportunity/threat necessary to form a counter-organization.13 The existence of opposition groups in Russia in the mid-2000s was indicative of a growing civil society, and the creation of Nashi was part of a wider attempt to channel it. In response to the growth of disparate political opposition and the voluntary NGO sector in Russia,the Kremlin created the Public Chamber, a body where citizens are encouraged to provide feedback to the government.14 Similar to Nashi, this space appears to have been created so that NGOs could work more closely with the government instead of working independently or

Emily Trudeau

Who Has the Youth Has the Future: russia’s nashi as social movement

with the opposition. Government-sponsored civil society organizations, such as the Public Chamber and Nashi, establish a dichotomy between those who can legitimately manage society (the ruling elite) versus those who will lead Russia astray (the opposition).

Framing Processes The binary between the Putin administration and the opposition was incredibly important as a framing process. Nashi’s manifesto states that liberals want to sacrifice the freedom of the country in order to guarantee the freedom of the individual, while communists and fascists neglect individual freedoms in the pursuit of a great nation. Nashi distinguishes itself from these forces by claiming to be the only group in Russia that supports the pursuit of both individual freedom and sovereignty.15 Nashi’s oppositional framing demonstrates the threshold that must be reached for movements to mobilize: according to McAdam, McCarthy, and Zald, “at a minimum people need to feel both aggrieved about some aspect of their lives and optimistic that, acting collectively, they can redress the problem.”16 Nashi’s architects, aggrieved by the success of opposition movements in their sphere of influence, created their own youth organization that they hoped would thwart the risk of revolution through collective support of sovereign democracy.

While Nashi ideologues distanced themselves from the ideology of opposition movements, they also paradoxically co-opted several of the successful features of these movements. Like Otpor, Znayu, and Pora, Nashi attempted to establish itself as a ‘cool’ movement for young people.17 According to Ben Judah, from its very inception Nashi was to “have all the camping, sex and rock stars of a revolutionary movement.”18 Moreover, groups such as Otpor, Pora, Znayu, and Kmara believed that their members’ lives would improve only through regime change. Nashi reversed their argument, claiming that the lives of Russians would only be improved through the maintenance of the status quo and the suppression of its enemies, both real and imagined.19 By inverting this ideological goal of opposition movements, Nashi’s framing reinforced the binary between ‘us’ and ‘them.’

23

Other attempts at identity formation within Nashi were also paradoxical. Despite criticizing the communist opposition in its manifesto, Nashi’s identity was made to be heavily reliant upon the historical precedent provided by the Soviet Komsomol. The use of Soviet militaristic themes and images was co-opted by Nashi in a number of their campaigns and protests. According to scholar Marcel van Herpen, “The organization was drenched in Soviet-era nostalgia.”20 Nashi youth wore red jackets or shirts, waved flags reminiscent of the Soviet and Tsarist eras, sang Soviet songs, and frequently undertook mass actions.21 The Soviet symbols employed by Nashi were a foil to symbols that opposition groups used in Serbia, Georgia, and Ukraine. Otpor was the first group to employ a black fist as their symbol, which was subsequently adopted

by Kmara and Pora.22 Otpor was arguably the most successful at popularizing its symbol, putting it on posters, t-shirts, and leaflets in an attempt to create the most popular brand in Serbia.23 In its adoption of Soviet symbols and colours, it is apparent that Nashi attempted to replicate Otpor’s successful branding.24

Typically, social movements are provided with the political space to launch their movement as a result of government or elite actions. As a creation of the state, however, Nashi did not have to wait for such a political opportunity.

When Nashi ideologues defined themselves and their enemies, the framing processes that they employed did not fully adhere to the Dynamics of Contention model. In their articulation of framing processes, McAdam, McCarthy, and Zald rely on the work of Snow et al., who conceive of framing as “the conscious strategic efforts by groups of people to fashion shared understandings of the world and of themselves that legitimate and motivate collective action.”25 Nashi commissars, however, did not socially construct their own ideas or identities, nor did they

24

Nashi members camp at a 2006 referendum in Transnistria CC via www.opendemocracy.net

come together based on a shared understanding of their situation. Instead, their identities were prescribed by Nashi’s ideology and programming.

This ideological prescription is clearly demonstrated

by Surkov’s influence on Nashi’s manifesto and its educational programming; for example, at their annual summer retreat at Camp Seliger in 2006, Nashi members and commissars were expected to attend lectures that addressed the issue of sovereign democracy, with topics such as Putin’s ideology and Russia’s potential as a superpower.26

Mobilizing Structures The annual summer camp at Seliger is an example of one of Nashi’s many mobilizing structures. The Dynamics of Contention model defines mobilizing structures as “those collective vehicles, informal as well as formal, through which people mobilize and engage in collective action.”27 Within this definition, McAdam, McCarthy, and Zald include all mid-level groups, organizations, and informal networks that form the foundations of social movements.28 In mobilizing youth in their organization, Nashi combined informal structures from contemporary opposition movements and formal constructs inspired by the Soviet Komsomol.

Nashi’s methods of mobilization reflect a reinvigoration of Soviet structures. For example, Nashi’s first mass demonstration, staged a few days after Victory Day in May 2005, was designed to symbolize the “passing of the baton” from one generation of anti-fascist fighters to another.29 This action created a connection between the Putin

generation and those who fought in the Second World War, further solidifying Nashi’s anti-fascist frame.30 Moreover, similar to the Komsomol, Nashi members were provided with perks such as a free summer retreat and were also promised the potential for upward social mobility through connections gained through the group.31 According to Judah, soon after Nashi’s founding, “a network of regional commissars were thrown up, teams of local agitators chucked together in all major cities, lecture tours and conferences kick-started with the old ‘pioneer camps’ being reborn as an annual ‘Seliger’ festival.”32 In its programming and design, the Seliger retreat, while structurally Soviet, employed several features of Serbian, Ukrainian, and Georgian opposition movements. In his article on civil society and youth mobilization, Taras Kuzio outlines three strategies that were employed by opposition movements in those three countries to mobilize and engage their members. These three strategies – globalization and modern communication, humour and ridicule, and music and carnivals – were co-opted by Nashi as mobilizing structures.33 Nashi communicated with its members through the movement’s website,34 produced flashy recruitment videos, and even had its own talk show, hosted by commissar Maria Drokova.35 In an attempt to mobilize participants through humour and ridicule, Nashi unsurprisingly targeted opposition leaders. At Seliger, for example, camp participants were greeted with doctored images of opposition leaders’ heads superimposed onto the bodies of scantily clad models.36 Finally, Nashi also encouraged involvement by staging mass actions

Emily Trudeau

Who Has the Youth Has the Future: russia’s nashi as social movement

that featured music and entertainment.37 Notably, during a celebration for Putin’s birthday in 2007, Nashi members performed a rap with lyrics that portrayed Russia as a reinvigorated great power.38 The incorporation of entertainment into political and ideological events was an attempt by Nashi to brand itself and those in power as ‘cool.’

ConcLusion At its core Nashi was a counter-revolutionary tool of the Kremlin,39 but Nashi’s instrumentalism does not, I would argue, discount its status as a social movement. Through the adoption of contemporary and historical elements in its creation and actions, Nashi can still be loosely defined as a social movement.

While Nashi’s structure and actions are sometimes at odds with Western ideas of social movements, its common goals, clearly framed identity, articulated enemies, mobilizing structures, and penchant for mass protest all constitute characteristics of a social movement.

This exploration of Nashi as a social movement makes a distinction between typical social movements, which are partially reliant on organic development, and state-sponsored movements, which are top-down organizations designed to manage civil society. From its founding in 2005 to its dissolution in 2013, Nashi remained a tool of the state. Ben Judah has astutely commented, “By never allowing United Russia or Nashi to develop into real political institutions, never ceding any political policy control over to them, the Kremlin effectively ensured they ended up as patronage networks.”40 Once Nashi’s usefulness had run out, the Kremlin quietly dissolved it. Today, Nashi has been replaced by a new Kremlin patronage network called Set (Network), which hearkens back to the Soviet nomenklatura. In another politically uncertain time, the Putin administration has once again created an organization to channel the political energies of Russian youths.41 An analysis of Nashi through the frame of the Dynamics of Contention model only scratches the surface of social movement frameworks.

Indeed, one could devote an entire paper to the applicability of each pillar of the Dynamics of Contention model, and there are a multitude of

25

frames based on current social movement research through which Nashi could be analyzed. Given the lack of descriptive work on government-sponsored social movements in illiberal states, this paper is a starting point for exploring the role of these groups in authoritarian regimes. In the Russian context, the study of pro-government civil society groups and social movement organizations is increasingly important because they have become the only legitimate forms of civil society in Putin’s Russia.

Considering the current political climate in Russia, it is unclear whether these groups will eventually be reoriented by their members toward revolutionary ends or will remain integral to the maintenance of the status quo.

Emily Trudeau is an M.A. Candidate with CERES at the University of Toronto. She studies intersections between Russian history and contemporary politics, with a recent focus on the structure and efficacy of protest and social movements in Putin’s Russia.

Notes 1. This paper is an expansion and reevaluation of an earlier paper that I completed on the similarities between the early Soviet Komsomol and Nashi. See Emily Trudeau, “Who has the Youth has the Future: Neo-Soviet Youth Groups in Contemporary Russia,” (graduate paper, University of Toronto, 2014).

2. Michael Schwirtz, “Russia’s Political Youths,” Demokratizatsiya 15, no. 1 (2007): 80.

3. Douglas W. Blum, National Identity and Globalization: Youth, State, and Society in Post-Soviet Eurasia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 126; Schwirtz, 73.

4. Seth Bernstein, Communist Upbringing under Stalin: The Political Socialization and Militarization of Soviet Youth, 1934-1941 (PhD. Dissertation, University of Toronto, 2013), 353, used with author’s permission; For a thorough explanation of sovereign democracy, see Philip Casula, “Sovereign Democracy, Populism, and Depoliticization in Russia: Power and Discourse during Putin’s First Presidency,” Problems of Post-Communism 60, no. 3 (2013): 3-15.

5. The basis for this frame is found in Doug McAdam, John D. McCarthy, and Mayer N. Zald, Comparative Perspectives on Social Movements (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996).

Emily Trudeau

Who Has the Youth Has the Future: russia’s nashi as social movement

6. Dana A. Moss has studied the range of repressive tactics used by illiberal regimes and has encouraged scholars to look beyond violence as the only type of repression.

See Dana M. Moss, “Beyond the Repression-Dissent Nexus: Putting Violence in Its Place,” Mobilizing Ideas (May 1, 2014), accessed March 11, 2015, https:// mobilizingideas.wordpress.com/2014/05/01/beyondthe-repression-dissent-nexus-putting-violence-in-itsplace/; Additionally, Regina Smyth, Anton Sobolev, and Irina Soboleva have recently studied the symbolism behind pro-Putin rallies during the 2011-2012 Russian election cycle: See Smyth, Sobolev, and Soboleva, “A Well-Organized Play: Symbolic Politics and the Effect of Pro-Putin Rallies,” Problems of Post-Communism 60, no. 2 (2013): 24-39.

7. Sidney G. Tarrow, Power in Movement: Social Movements and Contentious Politics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 9.

8. “Politics in Translation: Nashi: Russian Youth Movement,” trans. Dayna Spencer and Michael Smeltzer, The School of Russian and Asian Studies (December 6, 2011), accessed March 1, 2015, http:// www.sras.org/nashi_russian_youth_movement.

9. Ibid.

10. Ibid.

11. McAdam, McCarthy, and Zald, 3.

12. Ibid.

13. Schwirtz, 76-80.

14. Graeme B. Robertson, “Civil Society and Contentious Politics in Russia,” in Developments in Russian Politics 8, eds. Stephen White, Richard Sakwa, and Henry E. Hale (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2014), 121.

23. “Whither the Bulldozer? Nonviolent Revolution and the Transition to Democracy in Serbia,” United States Institute of Peace (August 6, 2001), accessed March 1, 2015, http://www.usip.org/sites/default/files/resources/ sr72.pdf, 6.

24. Arguably, however, Nashi was not nearly as successful at branding itself as Otpor was. In a September 2005 survey conducted by the Levada Centre, only 12 percent of youths aged eighteen to twenty-four had heard of Nashi.

See Schwirtz, 78.

25. McAdam, McCarthy, Zald, 6; For more information, see David A. Snow, E. Burke Rochford Jr., Steven K. Worden, and Robert D. Benford, “Frame Alignment Processes, Micromobilization and Movement Participation,” American Sociological Review 51 no. 4 (1986): 464-481.

26. Sean Guillory, “Camp Nashi,” Sean’s Russia Blog ( July 24, 2006), accessed March 1, 2015, http:// seansrussiablog.org/2006/07/24/camp-nashi/.

27. McAdam, McCarthy, and Zald, 3.

28. Ibid., 3-4.

29. Robert Horvath, “Putin’s ‘Preventive CounterRevolution’: Post-Soviet Authoritarianism and the Spectre of Velvet Revolution,” Europe-Asia Studies 63, no. 1 (2011): 16.

30. Hemment, 46.

31. Judah, 108.

32. Ibid., 88. Emphasis added.

33. Kuzio, 374-380.

34. www.nashi.su

15. “Politics in Translation: Nashi: Russian Youth Movement.”

35. Putin’s Kiss. Video. Directed by Lise Birk Pedersen.

(2012). Kino Lorber Incorporated.

16. McAdam, McCarty, Zald, 5.

36. “Putin’s Patriotic Youth Camp,” Time, accessed March 21, 2015, http://content.time.com/time/ photogallery/0,29307,1646809_1416353,00.html.

17. Taras Kuzio, “Civil Society, youth and social mobilization in democratic revolutions,” Communist and Post-Communist Studies 39 (2006): 366.

18. Ben Judah, Fragile Empire: How Russia Fell In and Out of Love with Vladimir Putin (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2013), 108.

19. Ibid., 108-109.

20. Marcel H. Van Herpen, Putin’s Wars: The Rise of Russia’s New Imperialism (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2014), 126.

21. Ibid; Julie Hemment, “Soviet-Style Neoliberalism?

Nashi, Youth Voluntarism, and the Restructuring of Social Welfare in Russia,” Problems of Post-Communism 56, no. 6 (2009): 45.

22. Kuzio, 371.

26

37. Putin’s Kiss.

38. Zygmunt Dzieciolowski, “The future’s ours: Russia’s youth activists,” Open Democracy ( January 19, 2008), accessed March 21, 2015, https://www.opendemocracy. net/article/the_future_s_ours_russia_s_youth_activists.

39. Oleg Belov, “Nashi versus Nazi: Anti-Fascist Activity as a Means of Mass Youth Mobilization in Contemporary Russia,” trans. Dmitry Borodin, Anthropology of East Europe Review 26, no. 2 (2008): 49.

40. Judah, 185.

41. Alec Luhn, “Vlad is Rad: Meet the hipster wing of Putin’s propaganda machine,” Foreign Policy (October 11, 2014), accessed March 21, 2015, http://www. foreignpolicy.com/articles/2014/10/11/vlad_is_rad_ russia_putin_set_network_youth_nashi_hipsters.

27

Colombia and Russia: Two Conflicts, One Strategy david martineau In the study of international relations, it is generally believed that after the Second World War, civil conflicts have replaced traditional inter-state conflicts.1 Nevertheless, the post-9/11 period marks a new trend in conflict management. The American-led ‘global war on terror’ gave many countries the opportunity to restore their territorial sovereignty and reinforce their authority over regions or groups that have been problematic for decades. States reframed internal problems to legitimize their use of violence against opponents now labeled as terrorists. There are many examples of such instrumentalization of terrorism to serve national interests.2 However, this paper focuses on the Russian counterinsurgency strategy in Chechnya (1999-today) and the Colombian strategy against the Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia (FARC) (2002- today).

Zhani-Vedeno ambush, Chechnya, March 2000

Photo: “После боя. БТР, подбитый боевиками” by Svm-1977 - Own work.

David martineau

These cases are compelling, as both countries have had recent successes in re-establishing control over regions that have historically been under the influence of insurgents. While the Russian strategy is often portrayed as violating democratic standards, President Alvaro Uribe’s ‘democratic security’ plan is seen by many scholars as a step in the right direction. If this dichotomy depicted in the literature is accurate, we would expect both strategies to be fundamentally different. By looking more attentively at both cases, however, one can find that this is not necessarily the case.

This paper argues argue that, in light of the discrepancy between literature and reality, the Russian strategy in Chechnya and the Colombian strategy against FARC have much in common and should therefore be seen as part of the same pattern of counterinsurgency. One of the implications of this argument is a call for more consistency in the type of normative conclusions drawn in studies of counterterrorist strategies. If the Russian strategy is seen as undermining democracy, the Colombian one should be analyzed from the same perspective.

If Uribe’s democratic security plan can be applied as a potential strategy for the war in Afghanistan, as will be discussed below, then Putin’s intervention in Chechnya should be similarly assessed. The goal of this paper is not to take a position in this debate, nor to analyze the validity of these strategies. Instead, it attempts to discuss these double-standards and to invalidate the inherent contradictions encountered in the academic discourse by looking more broadly at counterterrorism.

Methodology

Most recent work on counterinsurgency has been completed through case studies, with only a very limited number of cross-regional comparative studies and none comparing Russia and Colombia.

Consequently, scholars have a detailed and accurate understanding of both cases, but no tools to analyze how they relate to each other. To compare these cases, I will use ‘comparative process tracing,’ much inspired by Peter Hall’s ‘systemic process analysis.’3 This narrative will trace the process that both countries took to achieve relative control over the insurgents. While I am aware that this is

Colombia and russia: two conflicts, one strategy

28

stretching Hall’s vision of systemic process analysis, it is the best way to test my initial hypothesis and to provide a basis for the construction of a model of counterinsurgency. The main weakness of this approach is that my interpretation of both cases could influence the results of this analysis. However, since major discrepancies are needed to invalidate the hypothesis, minor interpretation biases can be tolerated.

Review of the Literature

As Grenoble and Rose point out,“Colombia’s counterinsurgency has not yet received due attention from the academic community.”4 In spite of the limited attention it has received, most who study Colombian counterinsurgency share an optimistic vision. Some scholars describe the Colombian approach to counterinsurgency as a “success story”;5 others claim it should serve as an example for troops in Afghanistan.6 While yet other scholars recognize the Colombian strategy as far from perfect, they do acknowledge a number of successes: promising results due to the decreasing popularity of FARC and the government’s commitment to peace7 or present the military approach as a short-term success, even if there are doubts about its sustainability;8 and make note of national economic gains.9

In contrast, scholars tend to be much more critical of Russian counterinsurgency strategies.

For them, Russia’s actions are a “chaotic form of domination” that are illegitimate and proof that Russia is drifting further away from democracy;10 demonstrate a connection to organized crime; are genocidal;11 and are responsible for the radicalization of the region – in other words, the government created the terrorists it is trying to fight.12

Although these examples are not representative of all of the literature on Colombian and Russian counterinsurgency strategies, they provide a clearer understanding of the opposition present in the interpretations of both counterterrorist strategies. With this foundation, it is possible to examine the Colombian and Russian approaches to determine their similarities and differences.

29

Comparison of Counterinsurgency Strategies In this section, I discuss three periods in the implementation of counterinsurgency strategies: the initial situation, the solutions, and the consequences.

In each section, several criteria are used to compare the actions of Colombia and Russia, demonstrating the extent to which their strategies are similar.

Initial Situation

It would certainly be misleading to claim that both situations were identical. Many factors differentiate the two countries: cultural heritage, scale of economy, and sphere of influence, to name a few. Moreover, the Chechen movement was a nationalist group seeking independence, while FARC was initially an ideological guerrilla group fighting for a socialist revolution. Despite their different geopolitical contexts, the two countries do share some similarities. In the 1990s, both states were challenged by an organized guerrilla group that undermined territorial integrity. Both governments tried without success to negotiate with the enemy in order to stop the increasing violence.

In this unstable situation, a charismatic leader won elections by promising stability and security.

The Opponents

Both conflicts stem from a history of belligerence and socioeconomic inequalities.

The civil war that struck Colombia from the late 1940s to 1950s – often referred to as La Violencia – exacerbated the political, social, and economic difficulties of the country, propelling the vast majority of peasants toward supporting the left-wing revolutionary groups who claimed to represent their interests.13 Similarly, the deportation of Chechens during Stalin’s rule and the repression of Muslim movements strengthened nationalist aspirations in the Caucasus.14 The collapse of the Soviet Union and the political and economic chaos that followed created the first opportunity for Chechens to organize themselves. Grievances were put forward by poor peasants and unemployed people, who wanted to remove the inequalities between poor Chechens and Russians, who hold the majority of

Mikhail Evstafiev - Chechnya Prayer

30 jobs in key sectors, including gas and petroleum.

As a solution, the nationalist movement proposed independence of the Chechen republic.15

Initially, both groups also began with a clear political message that slowly eroded over time.

Since the 1980s, FARC’s political involvement has become less important and the movement’s raison d’être has become less clear as group structure and activities have become more diversified, with tensions arising between the objectives of being a narcoterrorist or political guerrilla organization.16 The same transformation occurred within the Chechen movement, whose main goal was independence from the Russian Federation. Once they achieved it after the First Chechen War (1994-1996), the core principles of the group began to change.The Chechen president, Dzhokhar Dudayev, could not deliver the economic and political changes promised. In subsequent years, radical Islamist ideology became increasingly influential and, similar to FARC, the Chechen rebels became less homogenous, drifting away from political nationalism to a more complex form of jihadism.17

Finally, both groups have used banditry, violence, and criminal activities to strengthen their economic and military power. For FARC, the drug

industry, weapons smuggling, and robbery financed their war on the state18 while the Chechens took advantage of the chaos to become economically independent generating profits from “mafia-like” activities such as: “arms trafficking, illegal banking transactions, illegal international flights, etc.”19 They also robbed the population (especially ethnic Russians) and used kidnapping and other forms of violence to extract money.20

Territorial Integrity

Another feature common to both initial situations was the threat to the state’s territorial integrity. Since its decision to get involved in drug trafficking, FARC significantly increased its fighting capacity. Consequently, the proportion of the territory under their influence went from 13 percent in the 1980s to approximately 50 percent in 1998.21 Similarly, Russia in the 1990s had all the characteristics of a weak state. The humiliation of ‘losing’ Chechnya during the First Chechen War greatly affected the support of the Yeltsin government and inspired neighbouring regions to undertake secession. For example, in a congress of the people of Chechnya and Dagestan, plans were made to fight for a pan-Caucasus Islamic republic including other Russian republics such as Kabardino-Balkaria, Karachaevo-Cherkessia, and Ingushetia.22 In short, the counterinsurgency strategy in both countries aimed to regain the territorial integrity of the country.

InCreasing Violence

Photo: Chechnya Palace Gunman by Mikhail Evstafiev.

Not only were both states struggling to maintain their territorial integrity, but their opponents were increasingly provocative, resulting in higher levels of violence. In Colombia, there were only ninety-four confrontations between guerrillas and the central army in 1985, but by 2002 that number had increased to 2,000.23 During the 2002 elections alone, FARC insurgents killed twelve mayors and sixteen local council members in addition to the 300 people forced to quit politics because of intimidation.24 The economic crisis and the job shortage convinced many young unemployed males to join the guerrillas.25 The escalation of violence is also evident in the Chechen case. In this post-

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Soviet space, ethnic tensions have been prominent; there have been three civil conflicts in neighbouring Georgia and a war between Ingushetia and North Ossetia.26 Compounded by the First Chechen war in 1994, the Russian authorities have struggled to keep pace with the violence. As in Colombia, economic precariousness led many to join the Islamic training camp for Jihadists in the region which paid a decent salary and provided food for their families.27

Unsuccessful Negotiation Before the more radical solution of counterinsurgency, both countries tried to negotiate peace with the enemy. Colombian presidents Virgilio Barco (1986-1990), César Gaviria (1990-1994), and Andrés Pastrana (1998-2002) proposed compromises and negotiations with FARC, which subsequently collapsed.28 Similarly, after the first war in Chechnya, both sides signed the Khasavyurt Peace Agreement, agreeing to conform to international law and to stop the use of force in the dialogue toward a future agreement.29 The agreement was supposed to be the basis for lasting peaceful relations; however, the region was destabilized through the radicalization of the Chechen Movement, the region’s increasing economic precariousness, and agitations by the Russian secret service (FSB).30

Populist Leaders with an Aggressive Message It is within this chaos that Vladimir Putin (1999) and Alvaro Uribe (2002) were elected to office in Russia and Colombia. Elected in similar circumstances, the two politicians have much in common. They both based their political campaigns on the conflicts affecting their country. Like Uribe’s anti-FARC ‘democratic security’ offensive,31 expressed through neo-populist rhetoric and appeals to better living conditions,32 Putin successfully built his popularity on his intransigence against Chechen rebels and their nationalist discourse.33 Much like Uribe’s slogan, “mano dura, corazón grande” (firm hand, big heart), Putin explained his leadership philosophy as a kind of necessary and generous paternalism in the face of disorder, violence, and chaos.34

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Solution to the Problem

After they took office, both Putin and Uribe engineered similar counterinsurgency strategies to address their country’s critical positions. Their strategies share five main features: an aggressive approach without any compromise with the enemy; negotiations limited to those who will support the existing regime; discourse inspired by the ‘global war on terror,’ with conflicts being reframed and subsequently legitimized; increasing investments in the military; and the rebuilding of social infrastructure to create a semblance of normal life in affected areas.

Much like Uribe’s slogan, “mano dura, corazón grande” (firm hand, big heart), Putin explained his leadership philosophy as a kind of necessary and generous paternalism in the face of disorder, violence, and chaos.

The Aggressive Approach

After many years of attempting a softer approach, both newly elected governments proposed an aggressive and intransigent strategy to deal with security issues. Amongst Uribe’s priorities were democracy, transparency, equity, and state efficacy, with security being the keystone in achieving these transformations.35 Thus, Uribe proposed a strategy of mano dura, mainly directed against FARC, in order to regain authority in every region of the country via military power.36 A few days after being elected, Uribe declared a ‘state of internal unrest,’ which granted police officers and the military extensive powers over citizens, journalists, and militants alike – all necessary conditions to regain authority over the Colombian population.37 As Prime Minister, Putin proposed a similar approach in 1999, which he carried out after becoming President in 2000: in violation of international conventions, a full-scale military intervention was furnished with illegal weaponry,

32 such as thermobaric bombs, which swiftly ended the compromise embedded in the Khasavyurt Peace Agreement. The words “strong hand” were also used to identify this increasingly violent project of punishment in Chechnya,38 as the movement of citizens, journalists, and (of course) militants was heavily restricted. Putin’s strongman actions are well illustrated by his famous quote: “Terrorists must be destroyed at their bases,” and if necessary, he would track them into the washrooms.39 Similar to the Colombian case, Russian counterinsurgency measures were an aggressive attempt to re-establish state authority over an unstable territory.40

Forgiving Repentant Opponents

Even if their approaches excluded negotiation with terrorists, in both cases insurgents who were repentant and wanted to support state efforts played key roles in the military success. Additionally, both governments advocated regionalization and decentralization of the coercive apparatus. Uribe demobilized the paramilitaries and signed an agreement forgiving past terrorist actions, recasting insurgents as, in many cases, key government officials.41 By the same token, repentant Chechens were integral to the Russian plan for stability after their October 1999 initial crackdown on Grozny.

Putin slowly tried to remove the Russian forces from the territory and to transfer the coercive power into the hands of regional leaders. Putin named Ramzan Kadyrov – who fought against Moscow during the first war – as head of the Chechen republic. Kadyrov subsequently formed a regional militia whose goal was to neutralize the separatists with methods including kidnapping, murder, and intimidation.42 Many key government positions were thus granted to combatants from the first war who had changed sides. By doing so, Moscow tried to convince guerrilla groups to support the central state’s authority.

Reframing the Message

Reframing the government’s official message to depict enemies as terrorists has played an important role in legitimizing state violence in the eyes of the international community. By capitalizing on post-9/11 language, these governments cast

In a short period of time, terrorists from both countries allied themselves with those in power. themselves as part of the ‘global war on terror.’ No longer were Colombians fighting narco-traffickers or communists. Instead, FARC was reframed as a terrorist group, which the United States classified as an international terrorist organization.43 As foreign journalists were denied access to conflict zones, the government could portray the conflict as a legitimate war against a demonized enemy.44 The Kremlin undertook a similar approach during the Second Chechen War. After 9/11, the Kremlin partnered with the West in the ‘global war on terror.’45 Framing the Chechens as part of the Islamic international jihad helped Russia gain support for its counterterrorist strategy. For Western governments, the silence surrounding Russian violence was the price to pay for Russian support in the war in Afghanistan. Notably, Russia assisted the United States in bargaining with Kyrgyz officials for military bases in Central Asia.46 Moreover, censorship was often used to control information, a strategy sadly demonstrated in the murder of Anna Politkovskaya – a journalist investigating the misbehaviour of the Russian troops – and in the intimidation and limitations affecting foreign journalists.47

Military Investments

For both countries, an increasingly aggressive military approach led to ballooning military spending at the national and regional levels. In Bogota, increased military spending was made possible because of American aid. Indeed, in 2002 the Bush Administration unblocked US$6 billion between 1990 and 2007 to fight FARC in Colombia.48 Furthermore, the Colombian government also attempted to finance the counterinsurgency with a ‘war tax’ on wealthy individuals and businesses, generating more than one billion dollars within a few years.49 The result of these measures was the creation of an army of 200,000 soldiers and police

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forces with more than 160,000 people.50 A similar path was taken by Moscow, doubling military investments in 2000.51 The total cost of the Second Chechen War is estimated at between US$2-3 billion in the most conservative evaluation and US$11 billion in the most critical ones.52 Increased spending allowed Russia to send more than 120,000 troops into Chechnya, compared to only 40,000 in 1994.53

Investing Money in the Mirage of Peaceful Life

Investments in the region were used not only for military means, but also to rebuild cities and reassert central state control over the breakaway regions.

Consolidating public services in all the regions of the country and assistance for those who had been affected by war were important parts of the ‘integrated approach’ of the Uribe government.

Uribe’s mandate to restore “a semblance of normal life”54 constituted an investment that was three times larger than military expenditures.55 One of the components of this plan encouraged regions to develop their economy autonomously by increasing their own power in exchange for their loyalty.56 A similar decentralized socio-economic strategy was implemented in Chechnya. Nearly US$233 million were invested in 2000 to rebuild the republic.57 These investments, increasing to US$6.6 billion between 2007 and 2010, rebuilt the destroyed capital of Grozny and established a decentralized power structure by giving considerable autonomy to Chechen leader Kadyrov. Today, Moscow provides up to 80 percent of Chechnya’s annual budget.58 Scene from a 2010 Bogotá protest against a series of unresoluved murders tied to the Uribe government. The rumour was that government officials were luring away civilians, murdering them, and claiming they were captured FARC members. -ed.

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Consequences: Military Success, Social Disaster

Militarily, counterinsurgency strategies were a success in Russia and Colombia. The governments’ actions have successfully stabilized the concerned regions. On the social and humanitarian level, however, the results are not as impressive. Even if their strategy had both military and social dimensions, the former monopolized the attention of both Putin and Uribe, leaving social considerations an afterthought. The lack of balance between these two factors is the result of their inherent contradiction.

One key aspect of the stabilization strategy is the pact made between the state and those who were considered as terrorists. In Colombia, those who were responsible for most of the violence in the country were legitimized and took control of up to 33 percent of the national congress.59 Similarly, ‘freedom fighters’ from the First Chechen War took control of the republic by swearing their unconditional support to Moscow. In a short period of time, terrorists from both countries allied themselves with those in power.

This contradiction of course cannot be without consequences. By establishing relationships with former enemies, the state sacrifices civil liberties in the name of national stability and sovereignty. It is not surprising, therefore, that these regions still see high levels of violence, human rights violations, and endemic corruption amongst regional leaders.

Stability without Security

In Colombia, as violence perpetrated by the so-called enemies of the state decreased, abuse of power by regional leaders became increasingly common. Former paramilitary fighters who have been integrated in the state’s coercive apparatus have not changed the ways in which they exert authority. For example, in the year after their official demobilization, more than 2,000 homicides were

34 perpetrated by these guerrilleros.60 While Bogota is proud of improvements in cities, rural areas still struggle with intimidation, kidnapping, and physical abuse.61 The disappearance and murder of innocent civilians is often advantageous to regional leaders, who can be promoted or provided with economic incentives based on the number of terrorists or collaborators they detain.62 The institutionalization of paramilitary tactics has been demonstrated by scholars, who argue that paramilitaries have been remobilized because of the growing number of pacts between the paramilitaries and regional leaders.63 This is comparable to the situation in Chechnya, where the systematic elimination of political opposition has become common practice.64 For example, the assassination of two key figures of the Islamic movement, Shamil Basayev in 2006 and Zelimkhan Yandarbiyev in 2004, allowed Kadyrov to further consolidate power. Even if the region is now more politically stable, it does not mean that there is less violence.65 Indeed, the unorganized opposition still strikes more than twenty times a week with small-scale attacks such as suicide bombings or the targeting of key officials.66 The state-sponsored paramilitary and the FSB usually respond to these attacks with complete disregard for civilians.67

Human Rights Abuses

The decision to favour state stability at the expense of civil liberties was not always a popular choice in Russia and Colombia. Nonetheless, both countries have tried to discourage criticism voiced by human rights advocates, denouncing and arresting them as supporters of terrorism,68 limiting access to foreign journalists, and ramping up censorship policies. In Colombia, between 2002 and 2004, some 6,300 people were arrested – more than twice the number recorded between 2000 and 2002.69 The state cannot identify the complexity of its problems of governance, including its lack of control on regional militias, without undermining its own legitimacy. Governments in both countries maintain a dichotomous vision of ‘us’ versus ‘them,’ where the enemies are simply identified as terrorists.

In Colombia, for example, Uribe’s government was unwilling to acknowledge the violence and abuses

Ciudad Bolívar, Bogotá, in 2007.

Photo credit: Alison McKellar, via Wikicommons [CC]

perpetrated against civilians, or the use of children in regional armies.70 Official silence is even more evident in Russia, where violence against activists or journalists is routine. The iconic case of Anna Politkovskaya – a journalist who was covering the war in Chechnya and who was extremely critical of Kadyrov’s regime – is far from being an isolated one.

Others who have tried to denounce the abuses in the region, such as Umar Israilov – a former Kadyrov bodyguard who confessed to a New York Times journalist to some of the atrocities committed by the regime– was also assassinated in 2009.71 To further maintain the silence surrounding allegations of state-sponsored violence, the Russian government tries to limit access to foreign journalists in the North Caucasus by telling them that it cannot guarantee their security.72

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Endemic Corruption

Acting in self-interest, Putin and Uribe have failed to address the endemic corruption that characterizes their countries. Local authorities and the central governments alike benefit from the informal economy and the transparency deficit. The accord signed between paramilitaries and the Colombian government exemplifies the transparency deficit, as it unofficially guaranteed the paramilitaries a large proportion of seats in the congress and forgave previously committed crimes.73 Paramilitary individuals now possess a large portion of the telecommunications industry and are involved in private protection companies.74 Meanwhile, these individuals have managed to maintain their possession of illegally obtained weapons and continue to benefit from the illegal, albeit stable, drug industry.75 Corruption is also rampant in Chechnya, where the army is underpaid and relies on bribery as a substantial part of its monthly wages. Members of the army profit from the release of potential terrorists,76 the sale of weapons to Chechen insurgents – the same people they are fighting – and by stealing from lower ranked troops.77 Corruption does not just benefit the army, it also guarantees the authority of the central government over the region via coerced voting and electoral manipulation.78 This may explain the recent election results where 99.48 percent of Chechens supported Putin’s Edinaya Rossia (United Russia): a surprising result for a region that was engaged in a civil war less than a decade ago.79

In short, the regionalization and decentralization of power implicit in these counterinsurgency strategies allow local leaders to rule through corruption and coercive methods.

Central governments also benefit from the decentralization of power, since it stabilizes regional conflicts and, thus, confirms their authority over the region.

Conclusion

It is now clear that the double-standard in the analysis of the Colombian and Russian counterinsurgency is unfounded. I have argued

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that the counterinsurgency strategies of Colombia and Russia belong to the same pattern of post9/11 counterinsurgency. This conclusion can be tested on other cases with a similar foundational context, where the state does not control part of its territory because of an organized guerrilla movement, when the level of violence is increasing between the militia and the state, and where a new charismatic leader takes power. The examples of Chechnya and Colombia help us to understand the costs of an aggressive approach based on the regionalization of the army, decentralized powersharing, and the creation of a dichotomy between the so-called terrorist enemy and the state which wears a façade of democracy. To sustain this approach, significant investments in both military and social infrastructures are needed. Still, even if such an approach has proved effective in stabilizing the state and reasserting territorial integrity, it does not necessarily improve the conditions of the affected populations. Indeed, providing autonomy to regional leaders has allowed them to maintain networks of corruption and to use arbitrary and/or abusive violence to control their population. Often, in asserting control over their regions, these leaders violate the human rights and individual freedoms of their constituents.

By comparing the cases of Colombia and Russia and identifying a number of similarities between the two countries, it can be concluded that scholars who have focused on Chechnya have paid too much attention to the social and humanitarian consequences of this strategy at the expense of the military efficiency. On the other hand, those who have studied the Colombian case – especially scholars in the field of international relations – have tended to overemphasize successes at the state level, which have overshadowed numerous societal consequences. This conclusion highlights the need for more cross-regional and cross-disciplinary comparative work on counter-insurgency strategies.

David Martineau is an M.A. candidate at the Center for European, Russian and Eurasian Studies at the Munk School for Global Affairs (University of Toronto). He now works as a consultant at the International Organization for Migration in Geneva (Switzerland) focusing mainly on questions of migration and development.

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Notes 1. Kal J. Holsti, “War, Peace, and the State of the State,” International Political Science Review 16 (1995): 319-339.

2. For example, on the colonization of Palestine by Israel, see Derek Gregory, “Palestine and the ‘War on Terror’,” Comparative Studies of South Asia, Africa and the Middle East 24, no. 1 (2004): 183-195; on the Bosnian plan to strip ethnic minorities of their citizenship as part of the global war on terror see Karmen Erjavec, “The Bosnian ‘War on Terrorism’,” Journal of Language and Politics 8, no. 1 (2009): 5-27; and on the counterterrorist attacks of the Sri Lankan government on the Tamil Tigers in 2006 see Neil DeVotta, “The Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam and the Lost Quest for Separatism in Sri Lanka,” Asian Survey 49, no. 6 (2009): 1021-1051.

3. Peter A. Hall, “Systematic Process Analysis: When and How to Use It,” European Management Review 3 (2006): 24-31.

4. Alexander Grenoble and William Rose, “David Galula’s Counterinsurgency: Occam’s Razor and Colombia,” Civil Wars 13, no. 3 (2011): 281.

5. Nicholas R. Burns, “Building Blocks for Colombia,” Journal of International Security Assistance Management 29, no. 2 (2007).

6. Thomas A. Marks, “A Model of Counterinsurgency: Uribe’s Colombia (2002-2006) vs FARC,” Military Review 87, no. 2 (2007); Robert Haddick, “Colombia Can Teach Afghanistan (and the United States) How to Win,” Air & Space Power Journal 24, no. 2 (2010).

Indiscriminate Violence Incite Insurgent Attacks?: Evidence from Chechnya,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 53, no. 3 (2009); Pavel Baev, “Examining the ‘Terrorism–War’ Dichotomy in the ‘Russia–Chechnya’ Case,” Contemporary Security Policy 24, no. 2 (2010).

13. Felbab-Brown, 77.

14. Yagil Henkin, “From Tactical Terrorism to Holy War: the Evolution of Chechen Terrorism, 1995–2004,” Central Asian Survey 25, no. 1/2 (2006): 194.

15. Valery Tishkov, Chechnya: Life in a War-Torn Society (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2004), 66.

16. Daniel Pécaut, Les Farc, une guérilla sans fins? (Lignes de Repères: Paris, 2008), 33.

17. Robert Schaefer, The Insurgency in Chechnya and the North Caucasus (Santa Barbara: Praeger, 2011), 165.

18. Felbab-Brown, 78.

19. William Hayden, “The Political Genesis of the Conflict in Chechnya, 1990–1994,” Civil Wars 2, no. 4 (2007): 36.

20. Tishkov, 65.

21. Felbab-Brown, 8.

22. Emma Gilligan, Terror in Chechnya: Russia and the Tragedy of Civilians in War (Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2010), 30.

7. Grenoble and Rose.

23. Felbab-Brown, 85.

8. David Garibay, “Le conflit armé interne en Colombie: échec des solutions négociées, succès apparent de la solution militaire, poursuite des violences,” in Résistances, insurrections, guérillas, ed. Corentin Selin (Rennes: Presses universitaires de Rennes, 2010); Peter DeShazo, Tanya Primiani, and Phillip McLean, Back from the Brink: Evaluating Progress in Colombia, 1999-2007 (Washington D.C.: CSIS Press, 2007); and Felbab-Brown, Shooting Up: Counterinsurgency and the War on Drugs (Washington D.C.: Brooking Institutions Press, 2010).

24. Cristina Rojas, “Securing the State and Developing Social Insecurities: the Securitisation of Citizenship in Contemporary Colombia,” Third World Quarterly 30, no.

1 (2009): 228.

25. Forrest Hylton, Evil Hour in Colombia (New York and London: Verso, 2006), 79.

9. James Henderson, “Plan Colombia’s Place in the Democratic Security Program of Alvaro Uribe Vélez,” The Latin Americanist 55 (2011).

27. Gilligan, 29.

10. Jakob Rigi, “The War in Chechnya: The Chaotic Mode of Domination, Violence and Bare Life in the Post-Soviet Context,” Critique of Anthropology 27, no. 1 (2007).

29. Juliette R. Shedd, “When Peace Agreements Create Spoilers: The Russo-Chechen Agreement of 1996,” Civil Wars 10, no. 2 (2008): 95.

11. James Hughes, “The Chechnya Conflict: Freedom Fighters or Terrorists?,” Demokratizatsiya 15, no. 3 (2007).

30. Bruno Coppieters, “Secession and war: a moral analysis of the Russian-Chechen conflict,” Central Asian Survey 22, no. 4 (2003): 386.

12. Brian Glyn Williams, “From ‘Secessionist Rebels’ to ‘Al-Qaeda Shock Brigades’: Assessing Russia’s Efforts to Extend the Post-September 11th War on Terror to Chechnya,” Comparative Studies of South Asia, Africa and the Middle East 24, no. 1 (2004); Jason Lyall, “Does

31. Daniel James Hawkins, Reconfiguración del estado colombiano: el difícil balance entre consenso y coerción,” Íconos 35 (2009): 106.

26. Ingushetia and North Ossetia are part of the Federation of Russia while Abkhazia is now a de facto independent republic, de jure part of Georgia; Hayden, 27.

28. DeShazo, Primiani and McLean, 8.

32. Henderson, 4.

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33. Michael McFaul, “Russia Under Putin: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back,” Journal of Democracy 11, no. 3 (2000); Hughes; Gilligan; John Russell, Chechnya – Russia’s ‘War on Terror’ (London and New York: Routledge, 2007).

34. For example, Putin’s New Year’s Eve speech, 1999: “For Russians, a strong state is not an anomaly, not something that must be grappled with, but on the contrary, it is the source and guarantor of order, the initiator and main driving force of any change” (author’s translation) (“Крепкое государство для россиянина не аномалия, не нечто такое, с чем следует бороться, а, напротив, источник и гарант порядка, инициатор и главная движущая сила любых перемен.”) Vladimir Putin, Russia at the Turn of the Millennium (1999), accessed March 23, 2015, http://www.ng.ru/politics/1999-12-30/4_millenium.html.

Colombia and russia: two conflicts, one strategy

55. DeShazo, Primiani and McLean, 45.

56. Rojas, 237.

57. Pavel Felgenhauer, “The Russian Army in Chechnya,” Central Asian Survey 21, no. 2 (2003): 664.

58. Charles King and Rajan Menon, “Prisoners of the Caucasus,” Foreign Affairs 89, no. 4 (2011): 30.

59. Rojas, 235.

60. Ibid., 236.

61. Salim Elhawary, “Security for Whom? Stabilisation and Civilian Protection in Colombia,” Disasters 34, no. 3 (2010): 395; Rojas, 236.

62. Rojas, 241.

35. Rojas, 232.

63. Ibid; Elhawary, 401.

36. Ann Mason, “Colombia’s Democratic Security Agenda: Public Order in the Security Tripod,” Security Dialogue 34, no. 4 (2003): 391; Rojas, 232.

65. Ibid.

37. Grenoble and Rose, 296.

38. Russell, 78.

39. Vladimir Putin, cited in Gilligan, 33.

40. Russell.

41. Rojas, 235, 236-240.

42. Brian D. Taylor, “Putin’s ‘Historic Mission’: State-Building and the Power Ministries in the North Caucasus,” Problems of Post-Communism 54, no. 6 (2007): 9.

43. Brian Stokes, America’s Other War: Terrorizing Colombia (New York: Zed Books, 2005), 106.

44. Grenoble and Rose, 296.

45. Gilligan, 178.

46. Russell, 96.

47. Ibid., 98.

48. DeShazo, Primiani and McLean, 4.

49. Ibid., 12.

50. Grenoble and Rose, 298.

51. Stephan Blank, “Russia’s Ulster: The Chechen War and its consequences,” Demokratizatsiya 9, no. 1 (2001): 13.

52. Russell, 102.

53. Gilligan; Eugene Miakinkov, “The Agency of Force in Asymmetrical Warfare and Counterinsurgency: The Case of Chechnya,” Journal of Strategic Studies 34, no. 5 (2011): 653.

54. Marks, 55.

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64. Schaefer, 218.

66. Ibid., 238 67. Mark Kramer, “Guerrilla Warfare, Counterinsurgency and Terrorism in the North Caucasus: The Military Dimension of the Russian-Chechen Conflict,” Europe-Asia Studies 57, no. 2 (2007): 5.

68. Hawkins, 113.

69. Rojas, 235.

70. Ibid., 237.

71. Schaefer, 220.

72. Felgenhauer, 665.

73. Hylton, 119; Elhawary, 395.

74. Rojas, 236.

75. Hawkins, 113.

76. Felgenhauer, 660.

77. Tor Bukkvoll, “Their Hands in the Till: Scale and Causes of Russian Military Corruption,” Armed Force & Society 34, no. 2 (2009): 262.

78. Phyllis Dininio and Robert Orttung, “Explaining Patterns of Corruption in the Russian Regions,” World Politics 57, no. 4 (2005): 514.

79. Moscow Times, “Chechnya Backs Ruling Party 99.5%,” Moscow Times (December 6, 2011).

The Rise of Far-right Parties in Contemporary A Comparative Assessment of Europe: France and Hungary

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The recent rise

in popularity of farright parties in Europe leaves many wondering why ideologically-driven hatred keeps intensifying in a continent haunted by the tragedies of the Second World War. In countries like France, Greece, the United Kingdom, Hungary, and others, the rise of once marginal far-right parties has become an indisputable phenomenon. This shift seems to suggest that some people feel that the most effective means to achieve change is by voting for a radical party. With this shift, several questions arise: what are the main factors that lead people to vote for farright parties? What does the rise of the political far-right mean for the future of Europe? Should this rise be perceived as a fundamental threat to the values of liberal democracy? In seeking to answer these questions, this essay will focus on two farright parties—France’s Front National (FN) and Hungary’s Jobbik. The interest in comparing these two parties stems from the fact that, while both have gained popularity in recent years and can be considered “far-right,” their beliefs and ideologies vary greatly. This essay will be divided into three parts: first, I will establish a clear definition of what I mean by “far-right party,” and will advance a distinction between the concepts of “right-wing populism” and “far-right”; second, I will briefly discuss these two parties’ histories and compare and contrast their respective ideologies, political programs, and electoral bases; finally, in light of this analysis, I will assess the extent to which these parties pose a fundamental threat to the European Union and its values.

The terminology employed in the discussion of right-wing parties varies greatly between authors. In this essay, I will draw upon an understanding of “far-right” or “extreme-right” articulated by Sarah Harrison and Michael Bruter, who state “the extreme-right is neither more nor less than an analytical category, which corresponds to a more or less clearly perceived segment of the political spectrum.”1 This comprehensive definition eschews the narrowing of the meaning of far-right. However, because far-right parties are highly heterogeneous, a few clarifications are in order. First, certain elements, or “building blocks,” are inextricably bound to the concept of

“far-right,” such as nation, national identity, family values, and religion.2 Some of these elements, which are constitutive of nearly all parties of the extreme-right, may nevertheless vary in substance from one party to the next. These differences will inform this essay’s appraisal of the kind of threat radical parties in France and Hungary pose to the current system. Second, the concept of rightwing populism, or “neo-populism,” appears more and more frequently in academic and journalistic writing, especially since the latest elections to the European Parliament in May 2014.3 In this respect, it is important to clarify what constitutes a “populist party,” and to determine whether or not the Front National or Jobbik fall under this category.

There is “on the one hand, the ‘classic’ extreme-right, vicious, anti-Semitic and sometimes violent.” In this category, the author includes Hungary’s Jobbik party.

According to Jean-Yves Camus, there is no precise definition of “populist parties,” but there are three distinct types of populism: extremeright, extreme-left, and agrarian.4 According to these parameters, populism does not necessarily translate into right-wing ideology. Populism “is a political doctrine that seeks to defend the interests of ‘the people’ against an egoistic elite.”5 Many nationalist parties tend also to be populist, and are often grouped under the category of extreme- or far-right politics. Acknowledging the heterogeneity of radical-right populists, Patrick Moreau offers the following typology of such parties: 1) “dinosaur parties,” such as the Austrian FPÖ and the French FN; 2) the Nordic model, with parties such as the Danish People’s party and the True Finns; 3) regional parties, such as the Belgian Flemish Interest and the Italian LN; and 4) Eastern European parties, such as Jobbik in Hungary and the Greater Romania Party, united by their openly anti-Roma and antiSemitic views, acceptance of violence, and disdain for democracy and the rule of law.6

40 to distance her party from the classic themes of the extreme-right, the founding principles that continue to appeal to many voters and militants of the FN have not simply disappeared.11 The ideology of the extreme-right continues to influence the FN, and Le Pen’s party colleagues are still known to make racist, homophobic, and anti-Islam remarks despite her efforts to suppress them.12

There is disagreement among scholars as to the FN’s rightful place according to this typology.

For instance, Stéphane François, a political expert who stresses the difference between populism and extreme-right, explains that there is “on the one hand, the ‘classic’ extreme-right, vicious, antiSemitic and sometimes violent.” In this category, the author includes Hungary’s Jobbik party, “a party that pleads the return of Christian values, of family values and of authority.” This first category is, however, in decline in Western Europe, according to the author. There is, “on the other hand, the emergence of so-called ‘neo-populist’ parties, which take a greater part in political life and governments. The latter type thrives on two elements: the economic crisis and the fear of losing one’s identity in the face of immigration and Islam.”7 To illustrate his point, François points to the Swiss People’s Party, which initiated a referendum against the construction of minarets; the Party for Freedom in the Netherlands; and the Progress Party in Norway, a party that uses strong anti-Islam rhetoric.8 The French Front National is, for François, a party that originally belonged to the classic extreme-right, but has, under Marine Le Pen, transitioned into a neo-populist party.

It is unclear, however, whether or not the Front National is merely putting on a façade of change as an electoral strategy.9 Tellingly, the current FN leader Marine Le Pen has endeavoured to rid the FN of its “extremist” and “radical” image, insisting instead that it is a “mass” or “popular” party in a populist vein.10 Even though Le Pen has tried Front National Demonstration, 2012 By Gauthier Bouchet (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0]

Stéphane François’s assessment of Jobbik as a party “in decline” in Western Europe runs counter to Jobbik’s success today. The party continues to grow, and its ideology does not differ greatly from that of other far-right parties in Western Europe. François’s main assumptions have proved to be inaccurate: first, the decline of the far-right that he predicted in 2012 simply has not occurred, as far-right parties have, quite to the contrary, experienced a dramatic rise in popularity; second, categorizing certain parties, such as Jobbik, as the “classic extreme-right” is not particularly useful in helping to explain these parties’ success and tactics. Accordingly, the next part of this essay seeks to unravel this contradiction.

Though Le Pen has tried to distance her party from the classic themes of the extreme-right, the founding principles that continue to appeal to many voters and militants of the FN have not simply disappeared On October 5, 1972, Jean Marie Le Pen created the “Front National pour l’unité française” (the National Front for French Unity).13 The party’s rise to prominence in 1982 was an exceptional occurrence in Europe at the time.14 Today, the popularity of far-right parties is no longer an exception in Europe, but rather a spreading phenomenon and, for many, a source of worry.

The founding principles of the FN’s platform have since evolved from economic liberalism and

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little government control to social protection and the championing of a strong state. While such developments have rendered the FN difficult to classify according to the far-right typology discussed above, certain themes have nevertheless remained constant. The FN’s articulations of French identity, for example, are still strongly imbued with anti-immigrant sentiments. The hotly debated issue of French identity is, in fact, where the FN collects a great deal of its support. The FN’s rhetoric is reflective of widespread fears sparked by the real and perceived influx of immigrants, particularly Muslims, in many European countries.15 Béatrice Giblin notes that although the majority of the members of France’s dense “black and Arab” population are French citizens, they are still perceived by many as “different,” and therefore as a threat to the French nation.16 The FN attributes many of France’s greatest problems to immigration: unemployment, crime, and social welfare deficits, to name only few.17 This type of anti-immigrant sentiment was emboldened by the terrorist attacks of 2001. This has aided the Le Pens; first the father, in 2002, who reached the final round of the presidential elections, then the daughter, who captured nearly 18 percent of the popular vote in the 2012 presidential elections.18 Recent elections have shown that the FN’s electorate is growing. According to Brigitte Beauzamy, “two kinds of FN voters should be distinguished: the ideological hardcore who support conservative or reactionary authoritarianism, and protest voters reacting to immigration issues.”19 Though the rate of vote abstention in France is very high, Marine Le Pen strongly believes that she can and will persuade non-voters to start voting for the FN.20 In this following section, I will apply the same parameters of study to the analysis of the Jobbik party, thus enabling a clearer understanding of the similarities and differences between the FN and Jobbik. Jobbik, or the Movement for a Better Hungary, was created in 2003, and is thus a much younger party than the FN (1972). The leader and creator of Jobbik is Gábor Vona. The party’s platform is anti-capitalist, anti-globalist, and anti-Semitic. It advocates strong Christian values, government control, and a protectionist economy.21 In foreign affairs, Jobbik is very hostile toward the European Union, the United States,

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In the 1930s, Hungary’s farright movement was oriented toward the underprivileged; today, it addresses a broader audience, whose members it calls the “losers of globalization.” and Israel. Jobbik’s chief concerns are border security and the defence of the Hungarian nation against perceived intruders such as the Roma, who represent approximately 7.5 percent of the Hungarian population with a total of 750,000 people, according to a study directed by the Council of Europe in 2012. One of the more salient differences between the FN and Jobbik is the latter’s fascination with Islam. Unlike the FN, Jobbik sees Islam as one of the “last standing pillars of society.”22 András Kovács explains that Jobbik’s discourse strives to reposition the country in the East-West scheme: “While the dominant discourse of the transition is organized around such objects as ‘returning to Europe’ and ‘becoming part of the West’, Jobbik regularly uses anti-American, anti-Israel, pro-Russian, pro-Palestinian, and pro-Iran rhetoric.23 On Jobbik’s official website, Gábor Vona states “Africa has no power… SouthAmerica [suffers] from perplexed identity due to their much congested societies, […] Considering all this, there’s only one culture left which seeks to preserve its traditions: It is the Islamic world.”

Jobbik is known to revere the Islamic community: in 2003, Gábor Vona participated in the proSaddam symposium in Yemen. Jobbik often invites diplomats from Arabic countries and even has a Persian advisor who has organized official visits in the past between Iranian politicians and far-right representatives.24 This point is important when trying to analyze the strategic weaknesses in the broader radical right movement in Europe.

Indeed, it highlights an area of fundamental disagreement, a point of tension that could prove detrimental to the formation of cross-party and cross-national alliances, as will be shown in the third part of this essay.

42 Hungary’s history is quite different from France’s, which makes the two countries all the more interesting to compare. In the 1930s, Hungary’s far-right movement was oriented toward the underprivileged; today, it addresses a broader audience, whose members it calls the “losers of globalization.”25 As early as the 1930s, the far-right was very popular: the Party of National Unity supported the adoption of anti-Jewish laws.26 At that time, both France and Hungary had anti-Jewish laws: France under the Vichy government and Hungary under the direct control of the Nazis. The postwar communist takeover, however, reversed the fortunes of Hungary’s radical-right movement.

The resurgence of the right occurred only in 1990 with the ratification of the bilateral HungarianUkrainian treaty on borders in 1993, which proclaimed the inviolability of borders and ensured that ethnic minorities would enjoy the state’s protection.27 This event led to the creation of the MIÉP, the Hungarian Justice and Life Party, an extreme-right party and predecessor to Jobbik. In 1998, MIÉP received 248,901 votes (5.47 percent), which made it possible for the party to send 14 deputies to Parliament. Although in 2002 MIÉP won nearly as many votes as four years earlier, due to the high turnout, its 245,326 votes (4.37 percent) were not enough to reach the 5 percent threshold. After MIÉP failed to reach the threshold needed to win seats in Parliament at

The Hungarian Guard singing in Békéscsaba. [CC]

the national elections in 2002, a group of radical right-wing students established an organization with the name Right-Wing Youth Association/ Jobboldali Ifjúsági Közösség ( JOBBIK).28 A year later, in 2003, Jobbik became an official political party. In 2006, Jobbik and MIÉP formed a coalition and attempted to run jointly in the elections in order to accumulate more votes. Their scores were extremely low, averaging 2 percent.

Jobbik ran again independently in 2009, without MIÉP, and was able to achieve a 14 percent score.

The MIÉP was not able to garner significant electoral support after these elections, and collapsed in 2012.29 One of the sources of Jobbik’s rapid success is the way it capitalized upon an issue that other parties had neglected: the Roma. Jobbik presented the presence of Roma peoples in Hungary as a major problem, with distinct social, economic, and cultural dimensions.30 Although the FN also pursued an anti-Roma campaign, the ways in which the two parties have acted upon their respective anti-Roma commitments differ greatly. Jobbik created the Hungarian Guard, a paramilitary organization whose purpose is to keep Hungarians safe from “gipsy crimes.”31 As Mihai Varga explains, “what is relevant here is […] the actual strategy pursued by Jobbik to secure the far-right vote in the EP elections not by relying solely on electoral campaigning, but by setting up a parallel paramilitary organization, signaling

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to the wider radical nationalist movement how serious Jobbik is about solving the country’s problem.”32 Unlike Jobbik, the FN has not gone to such lengths in fulfilling its anti-Roma policies, but has merely stated, both in speeches and on its official website, what should be done, namely the immediate expulsion of Roma from Hungary and the restriction of their movement in Europe. Two points can explain this variance. First, the Roma population in France is quite small in comparison with that of Hungary. With a total of 400,000, they account for 0.62 percent of the population, according to a study directed by the Council of Europe. Second, the existence of core differences in the values and political systems of Hungary and France: democratic values, for instance, are far more entrenched in France’s history and public consciousness than in Hungary’s. The French government simply would not allow a party to create a parallel paramilitary organization.

In Hungary, despite attempts made by the government to outlaw the Hungarian Guard, Jobbik almost doubled its number of votes in the ten months after the Guard was finally banned.

Mihai Varga suggests that this turn of events was facilitated by a broadening of Jobbik’s platform to include pressing economic issues alongside its longstanding anti-Roma commitment.33 As previously discussed, Jobbik has since put forward an economic plan that, like the FN’s, seeks to remedy the grievances of the so-called “losers of globalization.”

Jobbik has also repeatedly engaged in hatemongering against incumbent political elites, upon which the party heaps blame for all of Hungary’s ills. In 2006, a leaked document revealed that Prime Minister Ferenc Gyurcásny complained to his fellow socialist party members that he had to lie about the country’s finances [to the public] “day and night.”34 Jobbik subsequently sought to exploit the scandal, and the anti-establishment rhetoric it deployed helped it to pick up votes. Indeed, the party’s electoral success has made it the third most important party in the Hungarian Parliament, and second in the European Parliament: 3 out of 21 of Hungary’s seats belong to Jobbik, while a similar proportion of France’s belong to the FN (3 out of 74).35 Despite the popularity of both parties in their respective

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Prime Minister Ferenc Gyurcásny complained to his fellow socialist party members that he had to lie about the country’s finances [to the public] “day and night.” Jobbik subsequently sought to exploit the scandal countries, the electoral bases of Jobbik and the FN differ in significant ways. The percentage of 18-35 year-olds among Jobbik supporters, for instance, is higher than 40 percent, against 30 percent for the FN. This margin is minimal compared to the recent past, when the majority of FN voters were well over 35 years of age.36 Jobbik’s supporters are surprisingly young, are mostly male, vary from moderately to well educated, and are described as being broadly anti-establishment.37 Contrary to what one might expect, those who vote for Jobbik do not, for the most part, live on the margins of society. The majority of its supporters report being affected by economic hardship due to globalization and other issues that Jobbik stresses, namely the Roma: one study has identified a positive correlation between a Hungarian’s likelihood to vote for Jobbik and the number of Roma people living in his or her area.38 A similar situation is found in France, where support for the FN is higher in areas with larger Arab populations.

The final part of this essay takes its cue from the foregoing analysis in seeking to understand why far-right parties pose a threat to the established order if they are not contained. There is no scholarly consensus concerning the severity of the threat posed by the FN to the other mainstream parties in France.39 In the case of Hungary, on the other hand, all agree that the level of violence endorsed

by Jobbik is extremely worrisome. It is nonetheless worth asking whether it is realistic to speak of a fundamental threat to the status quo, or whether the recent successes of far-right parties such as the FN and Jobbik can be considered merely ephemeral.

This would certainly depend on the ability of farright parties to attract an even greater share of

44 voters—particularly those who would traditionally vote for other parties. For this to occur, far-right parties would undoubtedly need to cooperate with one another. As previously mentioned, collaboration, or rather lack thereof, between farright parties could affect their overall legitimacy.

If far-right parties cannot successfully collaborate in the EU parliament, they could, in the long run, potentially lose votes to bigger parties who already possess a broader electoral base. Moreover, if farright parties cannot agree on a common platform, their role inside of the EU will be very limited. A recent example is the outright refusal of France’s FN and Austria’s FPÖ to ally with Jobbik.40 The basis for this refusal was that the FN deemed Jobbik too radical. An alliance would have allowed the group to obtain certain types of funding,41 but would also have re-branded Le Pen as a radical, something which she is desperately trying to avoid.

Indeed, the FN leadership has embarked on a program of “communization,” referred to in French as “dédiabolisation” or “banalisation.”42 By shedding the trappings of radicalism, Le Pen and her party colleagues hope to make significant electoral gains. For many, however, her tactics are simply subterfuge: the FN’s core ideology remains radical despite the party’s outward “commonization,” and those who are members of her party still adhere to radical beliefs, to which they sometimes give voice in unguarded moments. So far, it would appear that the threat has been contained. The costs of that containment, however, must also be considered.

The popularization of the far-right could lead to what some scholars have called “the end

While it is hard to imagine France, a country with a strong socialist background, voting for Le Pen on the second ballot, the fact that the current government has nearly hit rock bottom presents the FN with a perfect opportunity to make electoral inroads.

of tripartition.”43 This phenomenon refers to the idea that the foundation of the electoral order in France relies on “tripartition”: the left, the right, and the far-right. This tripartation has experienced an “electoral break” between the Union pour un Mouvement Populaire (UMP) and the FN, in the sense that the FN has sought to distinguish itself from other right-wing parties. If the FN remains an independent force, the UMP will likely have to move its platform to the right in order not to lose votes to the FN. Doing so, of course, requires it to move closer to the FN, and therefore evolve into a more radical party. Similarly, in Hungary, the Fidesz party will have to make concessions to the right if it does not want to bleed votes, particularly since Jobbik won more than 17 percent of the popular vote in the last legislative elections. Some believe that far-right forces have only limited appeal in Central Eastern Europe “because mainstream parties pro-actively court the far-right electorate.”44 Another concern is that if the FN or Jobbik were to ascend to power in their respective countries, they

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would attempt to force an exit from the European Union. In France’s case, Le Pen has already declared in many speeches and on her party’s website that, should she be elected president, she would hold a referendum on France’s continued membership in the European Union. Many believe that the erstwhile alliance with the EU would be reoriented eastward, as Russia continues to court far-right parties and would be happy to have them on its side.45 The global context only feeds such anxieties.

With the current French government at one of the weakest points of its history, the FN has come for many to resemble an attractive alternative. In Hungary, on the other hand, the conservative Fidesz party remains strong despite Jobbik’s continued growth. On the digital front, both the FN and Jobbik have learned to use new technologies to their advantage, attracting more and more voters through the use of the Internet and social media.46 While it is hard to imagine France, a country with a strong socialist background, voting for Le Pen on the second ballot, the fact that the current government has nearly hit rock bottom presents the FN with a perfect opportunity to make electoral inroads. Tamir Bar-On explained in 2007 that the greatest danger facing Europe was the steady slide toward an “antiimmigrant, white, fundamentalist, protectionist Europe through metapolitical, democratic, and legal means.” The danger remains identical today. As BarOn adds, “the danger has expanded to more solidly Photo: Two women of varying enthusiasm, at a Front National Rally [Gueorgui Tcherednitchenko/Flickr]

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social democratic nations from the Scandinavian countries […] as well as Central and Eastern European countries such as Hungary, Romania and Russia, where the radical and revolutionary right-wing milieu have made impressive gains in parliamentary elections and the general political culture of those states.”47 It is difficult to determine whether the rise of far-right parties in Europe constitutes a serious threat to the status quo, or more of a temporary outburst against the system.

However, it is important not to underestimate the power of far-right parties as was done in the past.

With far-right parties gaining electoral support and representation in the European Parliament, talks of anti-EU laws and restrictions on immigration and free movement are bound to increase. The European Union was founded on principles that seek to promote what far-right parties are attempting to dismantle. This paper endeavored to explain farright parties’ ability to mobilize a significant number of people, whether it is through an extremely swift rise, in the case of Jobbik, or by adopting a thin veneer of political propriety in order to garner votes, in the case of the FN. This trend is currently reverberating across Europe, where many countries have witnessed a rise in the popularity of far-right parties. Such a phenomenon should, at the very least, not be dismissed as fleeting.

Marie Macauley is an M.A. Candidate at the Centre for European, Russian and Eurasian Studies at the University of Toronto. Her research background is varied and includes humanitarian crises, Arctic governance and more recently Hungarian politics and Russian-Hungarian relations.

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Notes 1.

Sarah Harrison and Michael Bruter, Mapping Extreme-Right Ideology: An Empirical Geography of the European Extreme-Right (Houndmills, UK: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011), 1.

2.

Béatrice Giblin, “Extrême droite en Europe: une analyse géopolitique,” Hérodote 144, no. 1 (2012): 4; Erwan Lecœur, Dictionnaire de l’extrême droite (Paris: Larousse, 2007), 172.

3.

Pascal Hérard, “Populistes, nationalistes, extrême droite: quelles différences?,” TV5 Monde, May 26, 2014, http:// information.tv5monde.com/info/populistes-nationalistes-extreme-droite-quelles-differences-1841.

4.

Jean-Yves Camus, interview by Pascal Hérard, “Les partis populistes gagnent du terrain en Europe,” TV5 Monde, L’oeil de la redaction, April 19, 2011, http:// information.tv5monde.com/info/populistes-nationalistes-extreme-droite-quelles-differences-1841.

tombe dans les bras du FN,” L’Express, November 28, 2014, http://www.lexpress.fr/actualite/politique/fn/ cette-france-qui-tombe-dans-les-bras-du-fn_1618575. html#52AvBkfh4ePUHXBF.99 21. Ablonczy Balázs and Ablonczy Bálint, “L’extrême droite en Hongrie. Racines, culture, espace,” Hérodote 144, no. 1 (2012): 49.

22. Ibid., 51.

23. András Kovács, “The Post-Communist Extreme-right: The Jobbik Party in Hungary,” in Right-Wing Populism in Europe, eds. Ruth Wodak, Brigitte Mral and Majid KhosraviNik (New York: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2013), 227.

24. Balázs and Bálint, 51.

25. Mihai Varga, “Hungary’s ‘Anti-Capitalist’ Far-Right: Jobbik and the Hungarian Guard,” Nationalities Papers 42, no. 5 (2014): 798.

5.

Gergely Egedy, “Political Conservatism in Post-Communist Hungary,” Problems of Post-Communism 56, no. 3 (2009): 48.

6.

Tamir Bar-On, Rethinking the French New Right: Alternatives to Modernity (Abingdon: Routledge, 2013), 218.

7.

Stéphane François, interview by Laura Raim, “Montée de l’extrême droite en Europe: des origines diverses,” Le Figaro, April 28, 2012, http://elections.lefigaro.fr/ presidentielle-2012/2012/04/26/01039-20120426ARTFIG00521-montee-de-l-extreme-droite-en-europe-desorigines-diverses.php.

29. Balázs and Bálint, 46.

Ibid.

34. Varga, 795.

8.

9.

Ibid.

10. Bar-On, 217.

11. Giblin, 4.

12. Hérard.

13. Erwan Lecœur, 35.

14. Giblin, 5-6.

15. Edouard de Mareschal, “Ces électeurs qui ont fait du Front National le ‘premier parti de France’,” Le Figaro, May 26, 2014, http://www.lefigaro.fr/ elections/europeennes-2014/2014/05/26/0105320140526ARTFIG00014-ces-electeurs-qui-ont-faitdu-front-national-le-premier-parti-de-france.php.

16. Giblin, 7.

17. Lecœur, 174.

18. Bar-On, 233.

19. Brigitte Beauzamy, “Explaining the Rise of the Front National to Electoral Prominence: Multi-Faceted or Contradictory Models,” in Right-Wing Populism in Europe, eds. Ruth Wodak, Brigitte Mral and Majid KhosraviNik (New York: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2013), 179.

20. Élise Karlin and Tugdual Denis, “Cette France qui

26. Ibid.

27. Balázs and Bálint, 42-43.

28. Kovács, 223-224.

30. Ibid., 48.

31. Varga, 795.

32. Ibid.

33. Ibid.

35. Le Monde, “Extrême-droite: le Jobbik hongrois qualifie le FN de « parti sioniste »,” Le Monde, June 26, 2014, http://www.lemonde.fr/europeennes-2014/ article/2014/06/26/rififi-a-l-extreme-droite-europeenne_4446210_4350146.html.

36. Lecœur, 293.

37. Balázs and Bálint, 54-56.

38. Ibid.

39. Beauzamy, 177.

40. Le Monde.

41. Ibid.

42. Giblin, 11.

43. Gougou Florent and Labouret Simon, “La fin de la tripartition?,” Revue française de science politique 63, no. 2 (2013): 282.

44. Varga, 793.

45. Giblin, 10.

46. Balázs and Bálint, 53-54.

47. Bar-On, 233.

A Tale of Two Far-Right Parties The Political Fortunes of Hungary’s Jobbik and Ukraine’s Svoboda Party

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48

Since the Ukraine crisis began in late

2014, the monopoly held by Svoboda, a rightwing nationalist party—over Ukrainian political nationalism has dwindled as rival parties have incorporated anti-Russian discourses into their platforms. In Hungary, however, the primary farright party, Jobbik, continues to expand its share of the electorate, by successfully projecting antiRoma and anti-establishment discourses. This essay analyzes the electoral situation of these two far right-wing parties in Europe by focusing on three themes common to both: how national media and mainstream political actors have legitimized Jobbik and Svoboda platforms; how the two parties use xenophobic and anti-immigrant discourses; and how both parties monopolize far-right political activity in their respective countries.

This essay begins with a brief history of Ukrainian and Hungarian far-right movements.

I will then turn to Jobbik, analyzing how the party successfully promotes itself as the sole antiestablishment force in Hungarian politics and capitalizes on mainstream anti-Roma sentiment, positioning itself as the party most capable of tackling Hungary’s Roma question. My analysis of Svoboda focuses on the party’s shift from the political fringe into mainstream respectability, ultimately addressing its lost stature as the preeminent pro-Ukrainian nationalist party amid a widespread increase in anti-Russia fervor.

The first Hungarian far-right parties emerged following the collapse of communism in 1989. In many instances, they garnered significant patronage from Hungarian nationals living abroad.

The first powerful far-right party to emerge was the Hungarian Justice and Life Party (MIÉP), founded by Istvan Csurka, who had been expelled from the former governing Hungarian Democratic Forum Party in 1994.1 Far-right parties often put ethnocentric concerns at the forefront of their political agenda and seek to reorganize the system of relations between ethnic groups, prioritizing the interests of one at the expense of the others.2 MIÉP followed this trend and established the dichotomous discourse of their (MIÉP’s) struggle as the national forces of resistance against the governing forces of the country – viewed by MIÉP

as “anti-Hungarian.” MIÉP was chiefly made up of older, male Hungarians; younger nationalist voters, primarily students, formed their own party ( Jobbik) after MIÉP’s failed parliamentary bid in 2002. Four years later, the two parties ran as a coalition, but garnered only 2.2 percent of the vote. After that election, Jobbik split from MIÉP.3

In Ukraine, a similar pattern emerged. Farright groups formed immediately following the collapse of the Soviet Union, but proved even more marginal than MIÉP in Hungary. In almost all cases, Ukrainian nationalist parties are clustered in the Western region of Galicia.4 Western Ukrainians are not inherently xenophobic, but their territory has historical ties to the Ukrainian nationalist Stepan Bandera and the Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists (OUN), which fought a guerrilla war against Polish and Soviet forces in the 1930s, as well as the Nazis during World War II.5 Out of the OUN grew the Ukrainian National Assembly, notorious for its aggressive anti-Russian stance and clashes with Soviet police, and the Congress of Ukrainian Nationalists, seen as the direct heirs to Bandera’s OUN faction through their party leader Slava Stetsko, the widow of OUN leader Yaroslav Stetsko.6

Jobbik’s popularity grew as a result of its vehement antiRoma politics Jobbik’s popularity grew as a result of its vehement anti-Roma politics, which resonated with many Hungarians, and of its self-promotion as the party most capable of dealing with Hungary’s so-called “Roma problem.”7 Hungarian media sensationalized the murder of a teacher in the town of Olaszliszka committed by ethnic Roma in 2006, which brought the term “Gypsy crime”— the notion that Roma commit an unusually high number of crimes—into mainstream public discourse. Jobbik exploited the media frenzy and apparent normalization of anti-Roma discourse.8 In mainstream Hungarian politics there is little denunciation of such rhetoric9—for fear of alienating voters who share anti-Roma sentiments.10 This

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The spectacle of Hungarian Guard members marching up and down streets in Roma neighbourhoods, wearing black uniforms, won Jobbik political capital.

apathetic response to, if not outright support for, anti-Roma views by mainstream parties has given passive legitimacy to Jobbik. They are the party most vocal in driving public debate on the Roma issue.11 Hoping to avoid overly racist debates, liberal media outlets discussed Roma integration without referring to Jobbik’s radical views. This openness about the Roma question, however, unintentionally created a “legitimized” public arena for racist discourse.12 These political debates normalized an “usversus-them” mentality in Hungary—“them” being Roma and their sympathizers and “us” the ethnic Hungarian majority.13 This dichotomy became more pronounced as the Roma began to participate in debates. Media picked up on the arguments put forth by some Roma intellectuals for a “unique Roma civilization,” as well as for recognition of their historical identity as “deliberate outsiders.”

Nationalist groups, including Jobbik, pointed to such statements as ethno-cultural arguments for why Roma could never be integrated into Hungary.14 Jobbik, however, had an answer to the “Roma problem.” Jobbik’s paramilitary wing, the Hungarian Guard, patrolled Roma neighbourhoods in the name of defence and security of all Hungarians, drawing significant media attention to the Roma issue.15 The spectacle of Hungarian Guard members, marching up and down streets in Roma neighbourhoods, wearing black uniforms, won Jobbik political capital.

Their actions simultaneously created an atmosphere of fear and security.16 The Guard’s demonstrations suggested only Jobbik could effectively deal with the

“Roma problem”; indeed, the party’s communitybased force would be responsible for Hungary’s collective security.17 Jobbik popularized a narrative in which Hungary was a chaos-stricken country polluted by Roma.18 Security concerns fed into the “us-versusthem” mentality, the “us” in need of protection from “them,” who are perceived as a threat. Violent actions against the threat are, therefore, justified in the name of societal defence.19 This explains the receptiveness of Hungarian society to anti-Roma sentiment, and the deliberate and calculated ‘othering’ of the Roma people that Jobbik has benefitted from.20

After the fall of Communism, the governing elite alienated many Hungarians by failing to convince them of the need for reforms or the benefits of EU accession, instead leaving a legacy of broken promises and endemic corruption.21 Much of Jobbik’s electorate comprises the “losers” of the post-Communist transition. Supporters are individuals who lost their social status, have poor job prospects, and suffer from the declining quality of services that the state is no longer providing. Resulting popular discontent leads to broad anti-establishment sentiment among the general electorate.22 Furthermore, social alienation and economic frustration led to friction between Hungarian institutions and the people they served.23 Jobbik capitalized on this tension. In addition to its anti-Roma platform, the party positioned itself as the Above: Jobbik marches through a Roma neighbourhood.

Photo credit: Leigh Phillips, via https://gyongyospatasolidarity. wordpress.com/category/hejoszalonta/

50 anti-establishment force in Hungary, speaking for the disillusioned and disenfranchised.24 The Roma are no longer a main feature of Jobbik’s political agenda. Instead, the party platform is now focused on the economy and social services.25 Jobbik continues to position itself as anti-establishment by pointing out the ruling Fidesz party’s failure to adequately tackle poverty, state welfare, and unemployment issues.26 Anti-establishment rhetoric has allowed Jobbik to unify those with anti-Roma views and the economically strained Hungarians.27 Svoboda was previously called the Social National Party of Ukraine (SNPU). The name reveals a great deal about the party’s ideological foundations. It bears similarity to the National Socialist Party, better known as the Nazi Party, and the SNPU’s symbol was the Wolf ’s Hook, a symbol used by the Nazi SS.28 Like many far-right parties, the SNPU was seen as too radical and fringe ever to be considered a serious contender in national politics. But, unlike other Ukrainian nationalist groups, the SNPU moderated its platform to secure mass appeal.29 In 2004, at its annual convention, the SNPU adopted a more moderate party platform, dropped the Wolf ’s Hook, disbanded its paramilitary wing, and renamed the party Svoboda, the Ukrainian word for freedom.30

Svoboda’s first real breakthrough came in Ternopil oblast’s early local elections of 2009. The elections had been called early due to political infighting of the two major “Orange Revolution” parties: the Tymoshenko Bloc and Our Ukraine.

The infighting brought an end to the majority coalition, resulting in political deadlock and snap elections. Protesting the election, Prime Minister Yulia Tymoshenko’s party refused to campaign, with the result that more media attention was focused on Svoboda than expected.31 Svoboda won 34 percent of the vote, the biggest victory of any far-right party in Ukrainian history.32 Svoboda’s success was sensationalized by the media, especially outlets linked to Viktor Yanukovych, leader of the opposition pro-Russian Party of Regions, who was thought to have wanted to exploit Svoboda’s triumph as a way of dividing his opposition.33 Svoboda was invited to one out of every two political debates thereafter, despite holding no seats in parliament.34

During parliamentary elections in 2012, Svoboda won 10.5 percent of the vote. It became the first far-right party to enter Ukraine’s parliament.35 There are three key explanations for this success: Yanukovych’s pro-Russian policies since 2010 angered Ukrainians, who protested by voting for Svoboda; strategic voters wanted to ensure the disciplined pro-Ukrainian and antiYanukovych faction would cross the 5 percent threshold required for representation in Parliament; and the aforementioned media influence.36 Once in Parliament, Svoboda cooperated with other opposition parties, including Batkivshchyna and UDAR. In Ukraine, there was no cordon sanitaire, so common across Europe, separating the far-right from mainstream parties. This cooperation no doubt legitimized Svoboda. But in trying to capitalize on Svoboda’s wider, more mobile and committed network of activists, opposition parties offered support only out of self-interest.37 Ukrainian opposition parties whitewashed Svoboda’s neo-

Photo credit: Roman Kutzowitz, 2008 www.romankutzowitz.com

Stephen gellner

fascist past, improving its reputation among Ukrainians.39 Svoboda is no longer the sole nationalist party in Ukraine, and it has suffered losses in recent elections. At its outset, Svoboda took advantage of a pathological fear among some Ukrainians who believed Russia would compromise Ukraine’s autonomy.40 Svoboda was seen as the most effective nationalist force in Ukrainian politics.41 With the coming of the EuroMaidan revolution the position of Svoboda changed dramatically. As stated above, many voted for

Svoboda is now but one of many mainstream parties marshalling pro-war rhetoric.

Svoboda as they represented the stiffest opposition to the pro-Russian Yanukovych. When Yanukovych relinquished office, Svoboda lost its identity as the anti-Yanukovych party.42 Other nationalist groups began to surface: Right Sector, a union of fringe ultranationalists, emerged in response to police violence during EuroMaidan,43 providing an ultranationalist option for those who wanted to take up arms. While Svoboda members were involved in protest violence, the party officially refused to take part.44 And although the party was more popular than Right Sector in the early parliamentary elections of October 2014, Svoboda officially lost its monopoly as the only nationalist party—the splitvote cost Svoboda parliamentary representation.4546 After failing at the polls, Svoboda, once the political bastion of Ukrainian patriotism, lost that status as well. Ukrainians have grown frustrated with the war against pro-Russian separatists in the Eastern Donbas region and have demanded a stronger response. Where a boost in popular patriotic sentiment should have helped, Svoboda is now but one of many mainstream parties (along with Batkivschyna, Radical Party, People’s Front) marshalling pro-war rhetoric.47 The Radical Party, a pro-war organization involved in vigilante antiterrorist activities in Donbas, is one party that has benefitted from this new reality. Radical Party leader

A tale of two far-right parTies

51

Oleh Lyashko’s militarism mixed with populist rhetoric has garnered votes on both the left and right.48 The formation of Azov Battalion, perhaps the most overtly fascist volunteer battalion, is an example of an alternative response by Ukrainian nationalists seeking to oppose Russia’s aggression not tied to any particular party.49 With the crisis in Ukraine and Russia’s annexation of Crimea and support for separatists in the Donbas, Ukrainian patriotism grew substantially.50 This means that Svoboda should have gained support when Russia invaded, but the crisis caused a much deeper polarization of Ukrainian opinion, shifting politics in a more patriotic direction that deprived Svoboda of its “uniqueness” among parties. With mainstream parties becoming more patriotic, the introduction of an even more radical nationalist group (Right Sector) deprived Svoboda of any sort of monopoly on nationalism that it once enjoyed. Until Svoboda can reclaim a niche on the political spectrum, it will likely remain marginalized at the polls.

In contrast, Jobbik has been able to build on its successes. Both parties enjoy legitimacy in the eyes of the public, but Jobbik is far more versatile in its ideology and able to maintain its strong position on the far right of the political spectrum.

It is the primary motivator behind discourse on the “other,” be it against the Roma or the political establishment, finding adherents among the disenchanted Hungarians.

Stephen Gellner is an M.A. Candidate at the Centre for European, Russian and Eurasian Studies at the Munk School of Global Affairs (University of Toronto). His research interests include: contemporary Ukrainian nationalism; Ukrainian nationalist ideologies and political manifestations and subsequent impacts on present day Ukrainian society.

Stephen gellner

A tale of two far-right parties

52

Notes 1. Andras Kovacs, “The Post-Communist Extreme Right: The Jobbik Party in Hungary,” in Right Wing Populism in Europe, eds. Ruth Wodak, Brigitte Mral and Majid KhosraviNik (New York: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2013), 223.

2. Mihail Varga, “Hungary’s ‘Anti-Capitalist’ Far-right: Jobbik and the Hungarian Guard,” Journal of Nationalism and Ethnicities 42, no. 5 (2014): 792.

3. Kovacs, 223.

4. Andreas Umland and Anton Shekhovtsov, “Ultraright Party Politics in Post-Soviet Ukraine and the Puzzle of the Electoral Marginalism of Ukrainian Ultranationalists in 1994–2009,” Russian Politics and Law 51, no. 2 (2013): 50.

5. Timothy Snyder, “The Causes of Ukrainian-Polish Ethnic Cleansing 1943,” Past and Present Society no. 179 (2003): 205.

6. Umland and Shekhovtsov, 39.

7. Manuel Mireanu, “The Spectacle of Security in the Case of Hungarian Far-Right Paramilitary Groups,” Journal of Comparative Fascist Studies 2 (2013): 80.

8. Zsuzsanna Vidra and Jon Fox, “Mainstreaming of Racist Anti-Roma Discourses in the Media in Hungary,” Journal of Immigrant and Refugee Studies 12, no. 4 (2014): 440.

9. Paul Lendvai, Hungary: Between Democracy and Authoritarianism (New York: Colombia University Press, 2012), 190.

10. Vidra and Fox, 452.

11. Lendvai, 194.

12. Vidra and Fox, 449.

13. Ibid., 444.

25. Varga, 798.

26. Ibid., 797.

27. Kovacs, 230.

28. Umland and Shekhovtsov, 44.

29. Ibid., 36.

30. Anton Shekhovtsov, “From Para-Militarism to Radical RightWing Populism: The Rise of the Ukrainian Far-Right,” in Right Wing Populism in Europe, eds. Ruth Wodak, Brigitte Mral and Majid KhosraviNik (New York: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2013), 255.

31. Ibid., 258.

32. Ibid.

33. Ibid., 260.

34. Ibid., 259.

35. Andreas Umland, “A Typical Variety of European Right Wing Radicalism?,” Russian Politics and Law 51, no. 05 (2013): 86.

36. Andrew Kramer, “Unease as Opposition Party Stands Out in Ukraine’s Protests,” New York Times, December 13, 2013.

37. Volodymyr Ishchenko, “Maidan, the Right-Wing and Violence in Protest Events Analysis,” (paper presented at the Annual Danyliw Research Seminar, Ottawa, Ontario, October 30-November 1, 2014) http://links.org.au/ node/4155#!volodymyr-ishchenko/czo7.

38. Umland, 92.

39. Ibid., 88.

40. Shekhovtsov, 256.

41. Shekhovtsov and Umland, 62.

14. Ibid., 450.

42. Lucan Way, “Civil Society and Democratization,” Journal of Democracy 25, no. 3 (2014): 38.

15. Mireanu, 90.

43. Shekhovtsov and Umland, 63.

16. Ibid., 89.

44. Ibid., 59.

17. Ibid., 90.

45. Ibid., 63.

18. Ibid., 89.

46. Tadeusz Olszanski, “Ukraine’s Political Parties at the Start of the Election Campaign,” Ośrodek Studiów Wschodnich, 2014.

19. Ibid.

20. Lendvai, 181.

21. Kovacs, 225.

22. Ibid., 224.

23. Ibid.

24. Ibid., 229.

47. Charles McPhedran, “Thug Politics, Kiev,” Foreign Policy, October 9, 2014.

48. Alec Luhn, “Preparing for War with Ukraine’s Fascist Defenders of Freedom,” Foreign Policy, August 30, 2014.

49. Umland and Shekhovtsov, 49.

53

RUSSIAN SPEAKERS’ ATTITUDES

TO (NON-) ACCOMMODATING BILINGUALISM IN UKRAINE

Anna vozna

The language situation in Ukraine,

particularly the interactions between Russianand Ukrainian-language speakers, presents an interesting site for inquiry. Since the first waves of the political crisis in Ukraine in fall 2013, the language issue, namely, the tensions around the status of the Russian language in Ukraine, has continued to be contentious for politicians. This article analyzes different types of language behaviour exhibited by Ukrainianlanguage speakers, in an attempt to answer the question of whether it is beneficial for them to switch to using Russian in interactions with speakers of Russian in Ukraine. Temporary switches to the preferred language of the interlocutor will not provide an ultimate solution to the language issue in Ukraine, but may at least help avoid conflicts triggered by what can appear to be inappropriate language choices.

“Eternally Together!”: a 1954 Soviet poster made for the 300th anniversary of Ukraine’s entry into the Tsardom of Russia.

The start of a long-standing suggestion that Krushchev’s ‘54 transfer of the Crimea to Ukraine was an act of paternal kindness. -Ed.

Mutual intelligibility of both languages serves as a precursor to nonaccommodating bilingualism: the practice of responding in Russian to both Ukrainian and Russian speakers, and vice-versa, responding in Ukrainian to both Ukrainian and Russian speakers, is a common convention in contemporary Ukraine.1 Nevertheless, speakers occasionally accommodate their interlocutors by using the latter’s language of preference, so as to gain favour with them. Giles suggests that these efforts at convergence pay off and accommodating speakers eventually become more favourably evaluated by their interlocutors.2 Although this may be true

54

Mykola Azarov chose to use Ukrainian for his speeches, despite his lack of fluency in it. As a result, there was a wave of public resentment among Ukrainians, who created Internet resources that, parodying the speech of the prime minister, suggested translating Russian or Ukrainian into “his language.” elsewhere, the language situation in Ukraine is such that instances of accommodating bilingualism can at times be evaluated negatively. Several observations illustrate this point: one is of the former Russianspeaking prime minister of Ukraine, Mykola Azarov, who chose to use Ukrainian for his speeches, despite his lack of fluency in it. As a result, there was a wave of public resentment among Ukrainians, who created Internet resources that, parodying the speech of the prime minister, suggested translating Russian or Ukrainian into “his language.”3 Another is the campaign that was held in Lviv on February 26, 2014, urging Ukrainian-language speakers to show solidarity with Russian-speaking citizens by using the Russian language for an entire day. However, these efforts at accommodating bilingualism also failed; pro-Russian groups and activists expressed distrust with the experiment via social media outlets, claiming that it was an attempt by Ukrainian-language speakers to detract attention from the language problem in Ukraine.4 Other similar instances of failed accommodating bilingualism, combined with a tendency for many Russian speakers to perceive the Ukrainian language as inferior,5 suggest that attitudes toward accommodation and non-accommodation can be very complex.

The research presented in this article analyzes the attitudes of Russian-language speakers in Ukraine to instances of accommodating and non-accommodating bilingualism by Ukrainianlanguage speakers. The aim of this inquiry is to discover which form of bilingualism is favoured by Russian speakers.

An uncomfortable Mykola Azarov.

I have elected to carry out this investigation by examining the attitudes of Russian-language speakers toward cases of accommodating bilingualism in the political talk-show “Shuster Live.” This particular show was chosen because its format allows us to analyze the audience’s response to the politicians’ speeches. The show’s audience is chosen by Ukrainian sociologists so as to reflect the topic discussed each episode; people are selected according to characteristics relevant to the focus of the program. The participants represent two dichotomous groups (e.g., policemen and criminals, doctors and patients) who may or may not have a similar stance on the question discussed. While the politicians speak, audience members express their agreement or disagreement with the speakers using a clicker. Every person in the audience repeatedly answers the question: “Has the speaker persuaded you?” by choosing from two possible options (yes or no). In turn, these responses are displayed on the screen as a total percentage throughout the duration of the show.

For this research, I examined one particular episode filmed on March 7, 2014. The show’s focus that day was on the current situation in Crimea, and the possible outcomes of the upcoming Crimean status referendum which was to take place on March 16, 2014. The audience consisted of two groups: native Crimeans currently residing in Crimea and native Crimeans currently residing in Kyiv. The attitudes of both groups were displayed separately which allows us to analyze the position of Crimean Russian-language speakers.

Anna vozna

russian speakers’ attitudes to (non-) accommodating bilingualism in ukraine

This particular episode is of interest because it contains instances of both accommodating and non-accommodating bilingualism. Ukrainian politicians who usually speak Ukrainian varied their choice of language during the episode discussed: some of them continued to speak Ukrainian, while some chose to speak Russian.6 This variance allows us to compare the reaction of the audience to the two practices. The “Persuasion” variable displayed throughout the program served as the basis of analysis. I analyzed how the audience supported the three different groups: Russian-speaking politicians, Ukrainian-speaking politicians, and those Ukrainian-speaking politicians who chose to speak Russian.

In this process, it is necessary to eliminate other factors, beyond the language of use, which could account for the speeches’ appeal to the audience. I attempted to limit the influence of two major factors that can result in support of the politicians.

The first factor – the popularity of particular politicians – was limited by the scope of the guests invited to this show. First, most of the guests invited would not be considered popular political figures in Ukraine. Even those who occupied significant positions either prior to or at the time of the episode’s filming did not have a high degree of popularity among Russian-speaking Crimeans: Leonid Kravchuk, the former president of Ukraine, was supported by fewer than 10 percent of Crimeans during the election in 1991. The former minister of defence, Anatolii Hrytsenko, also suffered from a low rating (never above 10 percent) during the most recent presidential campaign. Refat Chubarov, the head of the Mejlis of Crimean Tatar People, the executive body of the Crimean Tatars, was supported only by the Crimean Tatar population, which, according to the latest census, constituted 12 percent of the overall population of the Crimean Peninsula. Sergei Aksenov, prior to becoming the self-proclaimed prime minister of Crimea, was a leader of the party Russkoe Edinstvo, which received only 4 percent of Crimean votes. Other politicians7 invited to the program did not occupy significant positions in Ukraine or in Crimea. Thus, as the participating politicians represented a broad

55

spectrum of perspectives, the audience’s sympathies to the politicians were accordingly evenly distributed; therefore, this factor should not have significantly influenced the results of this research.

In order to eliminate the influence of the second factor – audience support for the ideas expressed by the speakers – I grouped their positions into two major categories: pro-Russian and, alternatively, pro-Ukrainian attitudes to the Crimean crisis. The analysis of the ideas expressed by politicians to determine whether they were pro-Ukrainian or pro-Russian was carried out by means of juxtaposing them with Ukrainophile and Russophile interpretations of events in Crimea based on analyses of positions expressed by officials and the media. Only audience responses to ideas from the pro-Ukrainian category were analyzed as only pro-Ukrainian ideas were expressed by politicians from all of the groups that are the focus of this research.

A tendency for many Russian speakers to perceive the Ukrainian language as inferior, suggest that attitudes toward accommodation and nonaccommodation can be very complex.

In order to outline what constituted proRussian and pro-Ukrainian positions regarding Crimean history at the time of the episode’s filming, I analyzed articles in Ukrainian and Russian newspapers, online-editions, and news reports. Due to the rapid change of events during the period discussed, only materials from between February 20 and March 7, 2014 were analyzed. Ukrainian sources were chosen from the “white list” of Ukrainian media created by activists of Euromaidan in January 2014, which was distributed in proUkrainian online communities. Sources from this list were deemed trustworthy and objective by the activists; the activists endorsed them as sources of information on Ukrainian events. Next, I selected

56 sources outlining the pro-Russian position. After having analyzed what constituted a pro-Ukrainian position I searched for Russian sources discussing similar issues: preference was given to major TV channels, especially those broadcast in Ukraine. The official positions of the two states were also taken into account.

Russophiles have long claimed that the transfer of Crimea to Ukraine was a gift from Nikita Khrushchev, presented with the underlying purpose of saving Ukraine from the disastrous state in which it found itself after World War II. ProRussian media continued to develop this point of view during the Crimean crisis in 2014: Vesti. ru perpetuated the popular myth that Khrushchev executed the transfer of Crimea only because he was “under the influence,” but simultaneously promoted the view of a “cunning” Khrushchev who wished to gain the support of Ukrainian officials with this action.8 Ukrainophiles, on the other hand, claim that this decision was made to save the stagnating Crimea by attaching it to Ukraine’s prospering economy, emphasizing that after the native Tatar population was deported, the emigrant Russian population was unable to build a working infrastructure in geographical and climate conditions that were foreign to them.9 Ukrainophiles’ allegation about the economic benefits Crimea received after its transfer was denied by the Russophiles, who deem this claim amusing and naive.10

Photo credit: Ben McVicker

Ukrainophiles’ allegation about the economic benefits Crimea received after its transfer was denied by the Russophiles, who deem this claim amusing and naive.

Further differences in the two positions arose over questions regarding the present situation in Crimea. Ukrainophiles saw the Crimean economy as dependent upon Ukraine in such aspects as electricity, water, and social payments.11 The proRussian position, on the other hand, emphasized the dependence of Ukraine on Crimea and predicted negative outcomes for the Ukrainian economy after the annexation of Crimea.12 Russophiles claimed that the situation on the peninsula was peaceful and predicted the usual influx of tourism.13 Conversely, Ukrainophiles described the peninsula as potentially unsafe and, thus, assumed a decrease in tourism.14

The Russian president, Vladimir Putin, during a conference on March 4, 2014, regarding the situation in Ukraine, denied reports of the illegal presence of Russian military troops in Crimea, stating that those who blocked Ukrainian military posts in Crimea were representatives of a local military unit to which Russia had no ties.15 According to the Russian perspective, the Crimean status referendum to be held on March 16, 2014, was legal. Pervyi-Kanal reinforced this claim in other news-reports, by emphasizing the legitimacy of the Supreme Council of Crimea which initiated the referendum.16 Contrarily, the Ukrainian position on the same question was the opposite: lawyers claimed that the referendum was illegal since the organ that initiated the referendum had no legal rights to such actions.17 Supporters of the Russian position claimed that the results of the referendum would be fair, and that Crimean officials would uphold the elected outcome.18 Ukrainophiles deemed the Crimean referendum to be a tool of the Russian apparatus, implemented as a façade, to ease the annexing of the peninsula, an outcome which would be achieved regardless of the results of the vote.19 Ukrainians foresaw future ethnic conflicts in

Anna vozna

russian speakers’ attitudes to (non-) accommodating bilingualism in ukraine

Crimea and hinted at potential problems with the Tatar population,20 whereas the pro-Russian media claimed that this problem was largely exaggerated by the opposition.21

One of the central issues which constantly arose in discussions about Crimea was the language issue, and the perceived socio-lingual problems faced by ethnic Russians in Ukraine. In 1998, Roman Solchanyk conducted a study of the Russian media and newspapers decrying the “forced ukrainization” and “ethnocide” of Russians in Ukraine, particularly in Crimea.22 This view of events was further supported by pro-Russian media during the events in Ukraine in 2014. In contrast, the Ukrainian side claimed that Russians have never been oppressed in Ukraine, and indeed, Ukrainians and Crimean Tatars are both discriminated against by the local Russians.23

After having determined what constituted pro-Russian and pro-Ukrainian positions I analyzed speeches given by all of the speakers by juxtaposing the ideas they expressed with the information outlined above. Special attention was paid to the audience’s attitude toward pro-Ukrainian ideas since all three above-outlined groups of politicians expressed them. Three major groups of Ukrainian politicians expressing pro-Ukrainian ideas can be differentiated in this episode: Russian speakers

Pro-Ukrainian ideas expressed

by Russian-speaking politicians received 63 percent audience support. speaking Russian, Ukrainian speakers speaking Ukrainian, and Ukrainian speakers speaking Russian. Politicians from the latter group are wellknown to speak Ukrainian in political contexts, so some of them expressly emphasized their decision to speak Russian at the beginning of their speeches. This group exemplifies the practice of accommodating bilingualism.

Certain ideas recurred among speakers from the different groups expressing pro-Ukrainian

57

ideas. The idea that the referendum to be held on March 16, 2014, was illegal was shared by both the Ukrainian- and Russian-speaking politicans. Refat Chubarov, a Ukrainian-speaking politician, said that due to the absence of Ukrainian legislation on local referendums this referendum could not have been legally announced.24 Andrii Pishnii, a Ukrainian-speaking politician, who opted to speak Russian, supported this idea, by emphasizing that this referendum would be breaking eight articles of the Ukrainian Constitution.25 The idea that the results of the referendum were predetermined also came up in the speeches by both Refat Chubarov and Mykola Katerinchuk, a Ukrainian-speaking politician who chose to speak Russian.26 Russianspeaking politicians also expressed distrust in the referendum, and agreed that it should not be carried out: Vadim Miroshnichenko and Inna Bogoslovskaya both claimed that the referendum’s results would not be acknowledged by the international political community. Therefore, there is a certain degree of similarity in the ideas expressed by the different groups of politicians.

Given that the politicians invited to Shuster Live on March 7, 2014, had a comparable degree of confidence among the population of Crimea and the fact that ideas expressed by the different groups of Ukrainian politicians on this particular episode of the program were similar, we can argue that the influence of factors other than language choice on the level of audience support was minimal. Thus, we may assume that the figures of support expressed by the Crimean audience of Shuster Live reflect the attitude of this audience to the language choice.

In my analysis of the level of support given to different groups of Ukrainian politicians, I noticed a slight audience tendency to prefer ideas expressed in Russian. Pro-Ukrainian ideas expressed

by Russian-speaking politicians received 63 percent audience support. Similar ideas expressed by Ukrainian-speaking politicians who spoke Russian for this episode were supported by 62.1 percent of the audience. Ukrainian-speaking politicians were supported least, with 60.4 percent audience support.

Based on these figures, we can see that Russian speakers appreciate bilingual accommodation by Ukrainian speakers.

58

Support given to pro-Russian ideas was predictably high. When expressed by Ukrainian politicians speaking Russian, these ideas were supported by 70.9 percent of the audience. When Russian politicians in the studio expressed these ideas, they were supported by 70.4 percent of the audience. Since Russian politicians were not adequately represented in this episode of Shuster Live the data regarding them cannot be considered reliable; they are provided only for the purpose of an overall comparison.

NOTES 1. Laada Bilaniuk, “Language in the Balance: The Politics of Non-Accommodation on Bilingual Ukrainian–Russian Television Shows,” International Journal of the Sociology of Language 201 (2010): 105-133.

2. Howard Giles, Nikolas Coupland, and Justine Coupland, “Accommodation Theory: Communication, Context, and Consequence,” in Contexts of Accommodation, eds. Howard Giles, Justine Coupland and Nikolas Coupland (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 1-68.

Since the influence of other factors on audience support given to the different groups of politicians cannot be totally eliminated, the results of the research are inconclusive. Moreover, differences in values of support given to politicians based on language usage are not significant.

Although a slight tendency can be seen in the attitudes of Russian-language speakers toward their native language, further research is needed to analyze whether this tendency can be observed on a regular basis, and whether it developed alongside the conflict in eastern Ukraine. As I mentioned, the particular episode of Shuster Live that was analyzed here is unique due to the fact that only people from a particular Russian-speaking region were invited to be in the audience. If episodes of this program or other programs providing similar data appear in the future, they could be analyzed and their results compared with the ones obtained here, in order to provide more nuanced conclusions regarding overall tendencies in Russian speakers’ perceptions of accommodating and non-accommodating bilingualism in Ukraine

3. “Online Perekladach na Azirivku: Vchimo Azirivku Razom,” accessed January 24, 2015, http://azirivka.org.ua.

Anna Vozna is an M.A. student at the Russian and Slavic Studies department of the University of Arizona. Her research interests include teaching culture in language classes and teaching literature in undergraduate classes.

10. Kondrashov

4. Denis Nizhegorodtsev, “Zhiteli Lvova Reshili Odin Den Govorit Po-russki,” VZGLYAD (February 26, 2014), accessed January 23, 2015, http://vz.ru/ news/2014/2/26/674423.html.

5. Anna Fournier, “Mapping Identities: Russian Resistance to Linguistic Ukrainisation in Central and Eastern Ukraine,” Europe-Asia Studies 54, no. 3 (2002), 415-433.

6. A few Russian politicians also participated in the show.

They are not important for the purpose of this article but will be mentioned again. When referring to ‘politicians’ in this paper, Ukrainians are the default unless otherwise specified.

7. These are Oleksandr Chaliy, Oleksandr Martynenko, Volodymyr Lytvyn, Yuriy Miroshnichenko, Vyacheslav Kyrylenko, Mykola Rudkovskii, Inna Bohoslovska, Svyatoslav Vakarchuk, Voldymyr Makeenko, Sergey Markov, Mykola Katerynchuk, Andrey Illarionov, and Andriy Pyshniy.

8. Andrei Kondrashov, “Podarok Hruscheva: Istoricheskii Tryuk,” Vesti.ru (March 2, 2014), accessed January 23, 2015, http://www.vesti.ru/doc.html?id=1339759.

9. Petro Volvach, “Podarunok Hruscheva. Yak Ukraina Vidbuduvala Krim,” Istorychna Pravda (March 3, 2014), accessed January 23, 2015, http://www.istpravda.com.ua/ articles/4d61ab91438ae/.

11. “Vazhkii Vipadok Pana Putlera,” Economichna Pravda (March 3, 2014), accessed January 23, 2015, http://www. epravda.com.ua/publications/2014/03/3/423962/.

12. Iliya Iliin, “Natsionalizatsiya Krima,” Gazeta.Ru (March 6, 2014), accessed January 23, 2015, http://www.gazeta. ru/business/2014/03/06/5938501.shtml.

13. Sergei Pikulin, “Turisti Edut v Krim Nesmotrya Na Ukrainskii Krizis,” NTV.Ru (March 6, 2014), accessed January 23, 2015, http://www.ntv.ru/novosti/853096/.

14. “Vazhkii Vipadok Pana Putlera.”

Anna vozna

russian speakers’ attitudes to (non-) accommodating bilingualism in ukraine

59

15. “ Vladimir Putin Otvetil Na Voprosi Zhurnalistov O Situatsii Na Ukraine,” Prezident Rossii (March 4, 2014), accessed January 23, 2015, http://kremlin.ru/news/20366.

16. Dmitrii Kochetkov, “Eksperti Schitaut Reshenie Vlastei Krima O Referendum Konstitutsionnim,” Pervii Kanal (March 6, 2014), accessed January 23, 2015, http://www.1tv.ru/news/polit/253618.

17. Victoriya Matola, “Yurist: VR Krimu Ne Mae Povnovazhen Ogoloshuvati Referendum Shodo Status Avtonomii,” Tyzhden (February 27, 2014), accessed January 23, 2015, http://tyzhden.ua/News/103480.

18. “Vitse-premier Krima: Vhozhdenie v Sostav RF Budet Zaviset Ot Itogov Referenduma,” NTV.Ru (March 6, 2014), accessed January 23, 2015, http://www.ntv.ru/novosti/853158/#sel=10:1,10:2.

19. Andrii Demartino, “Krim Yakii Mi Vtratili?,” Ukrainska Pravda (March 5, 2014), accessed January 23, 2015, http://www. pravda.com.ua/articles/2014/03/5/7017599/.

20. Ibid.

21. “Razberyomsya S Krimom – Dvinemsya Na Ukrainu,” Gazeta.Ru (March 6, 2014), accessed January 23, 2015, http:// www.gazeta.ru/politics/2014/03/06_a_5938049.shtml.

22. Roman Solchanyk, “Russians in Ukraine: Problems and Prospects,” Harvard Ukrainian Studies 22 (1998): 539-553.

23. Ibid.

24. Shuster Live (March 07, 2014), video, 28:42, http://3s.tv/MAIN. 25. Ibid., 4:32:48.

26. Ibid., 3:33:30.

Reviews

62

BOOK REVIEW Anders Breivik and the Rise of Islamophobia Sindre Bangstad London: Zed Books, June 2014, pp. 286, ISBN: 978-1-78360-007-6

amartya biswas In the wake of Anders Behring Breivik’s

killing spree around Oslo on July 22, 2011, which claimed the lives of 77 Norwegians, international attention centred on the rambling, 1500-page manifesto he published online the day of his rampage, “2083: A European Declaration of Independence.”

Breivik’s apocalyptic interpretation of contemporary Europe was laid bare in “2083.” Norway, and much of the rest of Europe, was besieged by Muslim immigrants, and an armed uprising was needed, along the lines of a reincarnated Knights Templar from the Middle Ages, to push back the Islamic “colonization” of Europe.

After Breivik’s arrest, Norwegian courts were so concerned with his mental state that they ordered two psychiatric examinations to determine his fitness to stand trial. During this time, the media probed Breivik’s troubled childhood, suggesting his past was tied to the Utøya island massacre, where 69 people at a youth summer camp were among those he murdered. Several scholars, including Aage Borchgrevink and Åsne Seirstad, have embraced this explanation, arguing that Breivik’s actions stemmed from lasting childhood trauma, including intense emotional abuse by his mother. (At his August 2012 trial, Breivik was declared sane and sentenced to 21 years in prison.)

For Sindre Bangstad, a social anthropologist at the University of Oslo and expert on Muslim integration in Europe, Breivik’s psychological state

explains only part of the story. In Anders Breivik and the Rise of Islamophobia (2014), Bangstad examines how prevailing Norwegian social and cultural norms influenced Breivik’s actions and, more specifically, how far-right views on Islam had gained legitimacy in Norwegian popular discourse, thus emboldening the killer and amplifying his motives.

To contextualize Breivik’s actions, Bangstad traces popular xenophobia in Norway back to Christian IV, the late-seventeenth-century monarch who enacted a ban on Jews (repealed only in 1851) in the Kingdom of Denmark-Norway. In addition, a ban on Jesuits stood until 1956, and the Norwegian government barred foreign labour migrants from 1975 until 2001, when Norway entered the Schengen Area. While there was no institutional opposition to Muslims as a category at first, there were instances of racial attacks specifically targeted at Pakistani Ahmadis in schools and mosques since the 1950s, and at Somali refugees, following the influx of their arrival in Norway in the early 1990s.

Shifts in public discourse toward opposition to “Muslims” surfaced after the Rushdie affair in 1989, and from that point Turkish, Moroccan, Pakistani, and Somali immigrants all found themselves the targets of anti-Muslim discrimination in the mid1990s. Like much of the rest of Europe, antiMuslim discrimination ramped up in Norway in Photo: Day after Oslo bombing, Johannes Grødem [CC BY-SA 2.0] via Wikimedia Commons

amartya biswas

the aftermath of 9/11.

Bangstad writes that anti-Muslim discrimination in Norway is predicated on the “fear of small numbers” theory, which he borrows from the cultural anthropologist Arjun Appadurai. In this framework, there is increased uncertainty about meanings of national belonging when the forces of globalization, such as increased immigration and increased mobility in the economy, blur the lines between majority and minorities. According to Bangstad, certain sections of the Norwegian majority have feared the Muslim minority due to what they perceive as a rapidly increasing, but threatening presence.

Eurabia writers argue that European political elites entered into a “devil’s pact” with illiberal Muslim states.

Data on the actual number of Muslims living in Norway are ambiguous because of varying levels of religiosity and the use of different measures of Muslim identification (i.e. questions such as “were you born Muslim” vs. “do you still consider yourself Muslim”). Yet, to Bangstad, the influx of Muslims and spread of Islam in Norway have been exaggerated since 9/11, giving “the fear of small numbers” no logical basis. By the mid-2000s though, Islamophobia, predicated on the “fear of small numbers”, was espoused by a handful of prominent Norwegian bloggers, tabloid newspapers, and politicians from the nationalist Progress Party, of which Breivik was once a member. These views nevertheless resonated with Breivik, who lifted words from Islamophobic speeches and articles, particularly from “experts” in the conservative weekly, ‘Dag og Tid’ and from the blogger ‘Fjordman,’ in writing “2083.”

Moreover, Bangstad argues that Breivik was heavily influenced by so-called Eurabia thinkers, like Bat Ye’or, Bruce Bawer, and, to a lesser extent, Canadian author Mark Steyn. Eurabia writers also draw on the “fear of small numbers” theory, but,

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as Bangstad explains, add that European political elites entered into a “devil’s pact” with illiberal Muslim states, which would establish a Muslim political presence in Europe, and eventually spiral into the impending establishment of a new Islamic caliphate on the continent. Above all—as described

by Bangstad—Eurabia theorists identified those responsible for the Muslim threat in Norway and, without their social input, Breivik would not have specifically targeted youth members of the governing Labour Party in his attack. Bangstad notes that Eurabia theorists have defended their Islamophobic views under the banner of freedom of expression, and so his final plea is for arguments of freedom of expression to be qualified, and for the media and political actors to mitigate the spread of intolerance.

Bangstad’s book provides an in-depth examination of Breivik’s manifesto and wellresearched analysis of how institutions in Norway and elsewhere in Europe have enabled Islamophobic thought to proliferate since the mid-2000s. He also rightly concludes that hate speech must not go unchallenged lest it lead to further radical violence. Yet, Bangstad struggles in his critique of the role Norwegian media and political actors played in the spread of radical Islamophobia and their responsibility for the events of July 22, 2011.

Bangstad vacillates over whether the media and political parties could have filtered out the views of Eurabia thinkers, or whether Islamophobic social impact could have been moderated through public debate. Bangstad should have insisted that restricting Islamophobic discourse would weaken European democracy as it perverts freedom of expression, a fundamental tenet of liberal democracies like Norway.

Amartya Biswas is an M.A. Candidate at the Centre for European, Russian and Eurasian Studies at the University of Toronto. His current research interests focus on migration rights, advocacy and social justice.

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BOOK REVIEW radicalization in western europe: integration, public discourse, and loss of identity among muslim communities Caroline Goerzig & Khaled Al-Hashimi

Philadelphia, Temple University Press, 2014, 228 pp.

ISBN 9781439910290.

rachel trode Caroline Goerzig

and Khaled AlHashimi’s book Radicalization in Western Europe: Integration, public discourse, and loss of identity among Muslim communities seeks to answer the question: how does the radicalization of Muslims in Western Europe take place? The authors specifically examine the process of radicalization (defined as an increasingly extreme identification with Islam) of second- and third-generation Muslim communities in France, Germany, the United Kingdom, and, the Netherlands, using discourse analysis and interviews.

The book is organized into nine chapters. The introductory chapter presents the puzzle of radicalization of second- and third-generation Muslims in Western Europe. Following this, Chapters Two, Three, and, Four provide the theoretical background to the study by situating the work in the current literature on radicalization, defining the concept more thoroughly, and outlining the methodological approach. Chapters Five, Six, and, Seven function as the empirical sections of the book.

Chapter Five explores the relationship between European Muslims’ private and public identities by analyzing the public discourse surrounding the headscarf debate. Goerzig and Al-Hashimi argue that public discourse creates the perception of

Photo: 2011 Incendie Charlie Hebdo Paris XXe 07, Pierre-Yves Beaudouin / Wikimedia Commons. Licensed under CC BYSA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons.

the incompatibility of private Islamic identities of European Muslims as intolerant, religious, oppressive, medieval, and uneducated, vis-a-vis the tolerant, secular, free, enlightened, and educated values of the Western European public sphere. This perceived incompatibility forces European Muslims to choose between their two previously mutually held identities which, “naturally”, results in the choice to identify with their Islamic private self. This private Islamic identity then replaces the Western European public identity and signifies the first step in the radicalization spiral.

Chapter Six focuses on the relationship between European Muslims’ public and political identities through the Western European public discourse concerning and specifically cartoonists’s portrayals of the Prophet Muhammad. The authors argue that by portraying European Muslims’ criticisms of the cartoons as contradictory to the principles of free speech and religious equality in liberal democracies, public discourse creates a dichotomy between the moderate, democratic, tolerant West and the oppressive, totalitarian, intolerant nature of Islam. In doing so, this discourse robs European Muslims of the choice of neutrality, creating a confrontation between their now Islamic public identity and their Western liberal democratic political identity. When faced with such a decision, Euro-

rachel trode

Goerzig and Al-Hashimi argue that by framing the War on Terror as a war on an ethnicized version of Islam, in which citizens are either with or against the state (or the democratic, free, Christian West more broadly) the discourse further deprives European Muslims of the opportunity to adopt a neutral position pean Muslims “naturally” select their more personal Islamic identity over their liberal democratic identity, therefore progressing further down the radicalization spiral.

Finally, the last empirical chapter analyzes the relationship between European Muslims’ political and national identities through Western European public discourse about the War on Terror.

Goerzig and Al-Hashimi argue that by framing the War on Terror as a war on an ethnicized version of Islam, in which citizens are either with or against the state (or the democratic, free, Christian West more broadly) the discourse further deprives European Muslims of the opportunity to adopt a neutral position and as such they are once again forced to choose between their now Islamic political identity and their Western nation-state identity. Again, selection is made in favour of their Islamic identity resulting in an over-identification with the “Islamic Nation” and thus, the final level of radicalization in the radicalization spiral. Goerzig and Al-Hashimi argue that this final tier of radicalization is more prevalent in countries that pursue proactive policies of integration. Moreover, European Muslims, born into and encouraged to see themselves as part of the nation, felt a greater sense of betrayal if their adopted state participated in the Second Iraq War than if it chose not to, such as France and Germany While Goerzig and Al-Hashimi’s analysis presents an interesting theoretical model of radicalization by linking public discourse, identity, and, integration, they fail to explore fully how the choice

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65

between identities is made. The authors state that the choice between an Islamic private identity and Western European public identity is made “naturally”, as the Islamic identity is considered to be more personal. However, this work seeks to specifically address the radicalization of European Muslims who were born in their respective European countries and thus at one point possess both their Islamic and Western European identities. By privileging their Islamic identities over their Western European identities without significant justification, the authors perpetuate the idea that European Muslims are inherently predisposed to reject liberal democratic values. In what situations do European Muslims choose to identify with their Western European identity rather than their Islamic identity?

Additionally, Goerzig and Al-Hashimi do not examine instances where European Muslims do not radicalize at all. By specifically addressing the issue of choice in identity formation the authors could significantly enhance their argument.

Rachel Trode is an M.A. candidate at the Centre for European, Russian and Eurasian Studies at the University of Toronto. She obtained her Honors Bachelor of Arts from the University of Toronto in 2014. Her research focuses on the social history of Southeastern Europe in the nineteenth century.

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BOOK REVIEW Constructing Muslims in France: Discourse, Public Identity, and the Politics of Citizenship Jennifer Fredette

Philadelphia, Temple University Press, 2014, 228 pp., ISBN 9781439910290.

natasha miletic

Jean-Léon Gérôme, Arab Woman in a Doorway.

[Public domain]

Jennifer Fredette’s Constructing Muslims in France identifies an inherent contradiction within France’s ‘difference-blind’ republican model of citizenship. Instead of fostering an all-encompassing form of citizenship, the belief that all French citizens become homogeneously French paradoxically supports a narrow, exclusive French identity. In the view depicted and enforced by the French elite, to be a French citizen means to be sexually liberal, irreligious, culturally uniform, and inconspicuous. This notion of citizenship creates insider-outsider ideologies. For Fredette, this interpretation of French citizenry is highly limiting; it marginalizes French individuals who are not heterosexual, irreligious, The belief that all financially secure, French citizens become white, and male, resulting in a homogeneously French caste-like system. paradoxically supports a Ironically, efforts to narrow, exclusive French assimilate citizens identity. under France’s model of laïcité have fostered minority exclusion. Fredette argues, for example, that banning the hijab does not eliminate prejudice, but rather seeks to minimize cultural diversity and perpetuate prejudice. The author focuses her analysis on the ways in which France’s elite breed hostility and marginalize French Muslims within the spheres of education, employment, and housing. Admittedly, Fredette’s analysis does little to persuade readers that populist charges of misogyny and violence levelled against Islam itself are unfounded. Still, she does explain that the anti-Muslim discourse proffered by the French elite fuels the mistreatment and marginalization that French Muslims face within these three policy areas. Elitist rhetoric precludes balanced analysis and resolution of major shortcomings in education, employment, and housing by portraying Muslims as citizens undeserving of French citizenship.

Indeed, Fredette’s focus on the French elite is unique in that most scholarly analyses regarding French integration neglect elite-level discussions and their subsequent influence on public opinion. At the same time, her analysis also reveals structural flaws in France’s assimilation model, which have

natasha miletic

review: constructing muslims in france: discourse, public identity, and the politics of citizenship

little to do with the country’s elite discourse.

Rather, they are expressed within the French legal system, education system, labour economy, and housing model. In stressing the role of the elite, Fredette’s analysis does not sufficiently disentangle these interrelated issues found within France’s institutional sphere. For example, she explains that French minorities find it difficult to take issues of discrimination to court due to the structure of France’s legal system; and that due to the structure of the education system, young French Muslims are discouraged from pursuing higher education and, as a result, minorities are not adequately represented within the French political elite.

Similarly, Fredette groups the various concerns of French Muslims together rather than examining the intersectionality between religion, race, women’s rights, socio-economic class, and immigrant concerns. Although she acknowledges that Muslims do not share one unifying identity, her frequent use of the term Muslim as an allencompassing term for minority is problematic.

Beyond simply exposing the attacks of the French elite against Muslims, Fredette’s analysis speaks to the challenges that minorities face in speaking out against majority narratives due to the structure of French institutions, the weakness of civil society groups, and the failure of constitutional rights to address social inequalities. Foreign Affairs contributor Kenan Malik notes that “real integration is rarely brought about by the actions of the state; it is shaped primarily by civil society, by the individual bonds that people form with one another, and by the organizations they establish to further their shared political and social interests.”1

Fredette’s contribution may well motivate civil society groups in France to challenge discrimination in and of the courts to expose these structural flaws.

French policy-makers should heed Fredette’s implied warning: the State has not adapted rapidly

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“Real integration is rarely brought about by actions of the state.” enough to the dual challenges of mass migration and economic turmoil. With de-industrialization and the influx of mass migration, re-structuring France’s exclusionary system is necessary in order to tackle economic and social inequality successfully.

Meanwhile the social, economic, and political capacities of French Muslims continue to be handicapped from the outset by institutionalized educational segregation in the grandes écoles.

Reinforcing the marginalization of French Muslims (or minorities) will only continue to push young minorities into professional or technical jobs which are no longer relevant in the knowledge-oriented industry toward which France is slowly evolving.

With a declining population and increasing levels of immigration, structural change is inevitable and necessary. Although it remains to be seen which group or institution will precipitate this change, Fredette’s contribution speaks to its growing urgency.

Natasha Miletic is a grad student at The Centre for European, Russian, and Eurasian Studies within University of Toronto Munk School for Global Affairs.

Notes 1. Kenan Malik, “The Failure of Multiculturalism: Community versus Society in Europe,” Foreign Affairs Magazine (March-April 2015): 32.

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EUROJIHAD:

BOOK REVIEW

Patterns of Islamist Radicalization and Terrorism in Europe Angel Rabasa and Cheryl Benard, New York, Cambridge University Press, 2015, 245 pp., ISBN 9781107078932.

Angel Rabasa and Cheryl Benard present the following as a warning: “Europe will continue to face an Islamic terrorist threat for the foreseeable future.”1 In Eurojihad, the two authors argue that this threat will persist against the backdrop of a fearful Europe, where radical jihadists press ahead, abandoning their former lives to embrace a “culture of violence.”2

Rabasa and Benard take two approaches to the understanding of Islamic radicalization: qualitative and quantitative. First, the authors explore cultural trends, including those of first- and second-generation North Africans in Europe as well as disgruntled second- and third-generation Southeast Asians in the United Kingdom. Second, the authors discuss statistical patterns that indicate that it is in fact those who are well integrated into society that are most likely to radicalize.3 The authors distinguish their work from popular approaches that focus on structural variables such as income and education, or the “integration deficit,” as strong indicators of radicalization.4 For example, the perpetrators of the Madrid and London Bombings came from a middle-class background.5

Radicalization has less to do with Islam than with the ideology of radicalization.

For Benard and Rabasa, radicalization is a “rejection of the key dimensions of modern, democratic culture that are at the centre of the European value system.”6 In their research, the authors note how radical Islamists tend to preach a sense of order,

rishen lord belonging, and spirituality that they claim are absent from Western culture. However, the authors argue that radicalization has less to do with Islam than with the ideology of radicalization. There is a growing attraction to a “radicalization lifestyle,” which promotes a sense of belonging, brotherhood, and identity as part of the “imagined” worldwide Muslim community. The authors also challenge the notion that radicalism is fostered in mosques via religious sermonizing, arguing instead that radicalism in mosques does not result from theology or sermons, but develops rather as a result of social connections.7

For the authors, one of the many threads woven into the narrative of jihad is the call for a fight against Western infidels and other Muslims who do not subscribe to their extremist beliefs. As enticement, recruiters evoke romantic images of martyrdom, paradise, and armed jihad in Muslim history to persuade potential converts and expand their ideology. In this they have been remarkably successful—more Muslims but also ethnic Europeans are joining the fight against the West.8 Radical strategists also take aim at foreign policy. In response to American-led interventions in Iraq and Afghanistan, the attacks in London and Madrid served to create tension between the US and its European allies and attest that global jihad is a long-term movement.9Benard and Rabasa make good use of case studies, examples, and statistical data to identify patterns and trends of terrorism in Europe. The book includes ‘homegrown talent’ that is often difficult to trace by national intelligence networks, particularly when radicals have no prior

rishen lord

book review: eurojihad: Patterns of islamist radicalization and terrorism in europe

European response to Eurojiad and the culture of violence it propogates has been ineffective.

history of violence.10 This culture of violence draws in individuals who are “psychologically isolated,” socially alienated, and harbour resentment toward the West.11 On the whole, the European response to Eurojihad and the culture of violence it propagates has been ineffective. Despite Europe’s history of terrorism, the inconsistent counterterrorism strategies of its Member States and the EU’s lack of an executive mandate to deal with the fight against terrorism continue to frustrate European anti-radicalization and anti-terrorism objectives.12 The authors explain that the EU’s inability to address the terrorist threat can in part be attributed to its democratic agenda. For example, the legal regimes in Europe, which provide their citizens and residents with various privacy rights and liberties, allow terrorists to mobilize in an ideal environment in which to plan attacks, shore up support, and maintain the secrecy of their operations.13

Complicating matters further for European intelligence networks is the fact that training for terrorist operatives in most cases occurs abroad and the Eurojihad movement is taking advantage of new marketing schemes and strategies. More and more the internet is utilized as a primary means for information dissemination to communicate, inform, and recruit interested parties to the movement.14 To curb further growth and retract new followers to Jihadi movements, the authors recommend that counter-intelligence agencies work alongside mainstream Muslims to act as interlocutors. Benard and Rabasa cite the example of British authorities who partner with moderate Islamic organizations to work alongside their intelligence agencies. 15 The authors also caution, however, that this may motivate radicals to create parallel societies within European societies. The authors place greater emphasis on extending computer surveillance, strengthening European anti-terrorist legislation, and deepening the focus of European intelligence agencies on

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prevention, improved intelligence gathering, and community vigilance.16

In sum, Eurojihad successfully parses the key features of Islamic radicalization in Europe.

Notably, it places the movement’s allure in the ideology of Islamic radicalization rather than Islam itself and contradicts the popular belief that recruits of the Eurojihad movement stem from immigrant, marginalized, or disadvantaged groups. To support these arguments, the authors exemplify the capacities and successes of radicalization movements in Europe and Europe’s intelligence efforts to repel the Eurojihad threat, and in so doing admonish the EU for not being able to deal effectively with the issue at hand.

Rishen Lord is an M.A. candidate at the Centre for European, Russian, and Eurasian Studies at the University of Toronto. His research interests include EU security policy, EU enlargement, andcounter-terrorism.

Notes 1. Angel Rabasa and Cheryl Benard, Eurojihad: Patterns of Islamist Radicalization and Terrorism in Europe (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 192.

2.

Ibid., 6.

4.

Ibid., 192.

3.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

Ibid., 6, 192.

Ibid., 2.

Ibid., 3.

Ibid., 103.

Ibid., 33.

Ibid., 38, 89.

10. Ibid., 49.

11. Ibid., 73.

12. Ibid., 189.

13. Ibid., 154-155.

14. Ibid., 120.

15. Ibid., 180.

16. Ibid., 183.

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FILM REVIEW How much Further?

Created by the European Council on Refugees and Exiles, and the Greek Forum of Refugees and Matthias Wiessler Photo: Immigrants without papers imprisoned in Evros, Greece.

[CC BY-SA 2.0] via Wikimedia Commons

isabel villeneuve

Filmed in Athens

between October 2011 and February 2012, the documentary How Much Further? delves into the plight of the thousands of migrants from places such as Afghanistan, Somalia, and Sudan, who seek refuge in Europe. The film was produced by the European Council on Refugees and Exile (ECRE), the Greek Forum of Refugees, and the filmmaker Matthias Wiessler, with support from the European Programme for Integration and Migration (EPIM). It premiered simultaneously in Brussels and Athens on World Refugee Day 2012 ( June 20).

Clocking in at only forty-seven minutes, How Much Further? addresses an abundance of issues surrounding the current state of asylum seekers in the EU, with a special focus on Greece.

Interviews with migrants in Athens reveal the hardships and dangers that these individuals face when they are forced to abandon their home country for an overburdened asylum system in Greece. The political will to address migrants’ needs is so low in Greece that an NGO worker interviewed in the film characterized the state’s response to the growing crisis as “faceless.” Indeed, Adawallah, a refugee from Sudan now in Athens, reiterated this sentiment: “even officials don’t welcome us here.”1

How Much Further? illustrates the obstacles these asylum seekers encounter en route to Europe, whereby many are left with no other option than to put themselves in the hands of smugglers. Even those who manage to obtain asylum papers often end up living on the streets, where the rise of rightwing extremism and incidents of racist violence against migrants have collided. Yet, these acts often go unreported, as many migrants fear going to the

police.

Interviews with European Commission and NGO representatives highlight the paradoxes and complications that plague the asylum systems of EU member states. The EU’s Dublin Regulation, which may be the biggest stumbling block to reform, requires migrants to claim asylum in the first European country they reach. This has obligated the poorer, border countries of the EU, including Greece, to manage a disproportionally large share of EU asylum claimants with insufficient support from their wealthier Northern neighbors. As a result of this legislation, migrants who end up on Europe’s Southern shores find themselves in a precarious, often dangerous, situation. As the film correctly points out, “the Dublin system is based on the false assumption that all European countries offer the same level of protection.”2

“Even officials don’t welcome us here.”

While this documentary provides a breadth of information on the current challenges faced by asylum seekers in Europe and policy makers in search of solutions, its ambition to address such a wide swath of issues is often at the expense of analytical depth. One might say that forty-seven minutes is too little time to accord these many concerns their due attention. Public discourse surrounding asylum seekers, including the use of terms such as “bogus” and “economic migrant,” is addressed only

isabel villeneuve

Poorer, border countries of the EU, including Greece, manage a disproportionally large share of EU asylum claimants in passing. The viewer may have benefitted from further discussion of what scholars term the “asylummigration nexus,” whereby the “distinction between asylum seekers and undocumented migrants has become blurred.”3 This nexus also suggests that immigration and asylum policy are inextricably linked, which has led public opinion to question the validity of asylum claims, especially in the context of the recent economic crisis. Such considerations are certainly germane to any film on migration that aspires to educate beyond the polemical and cursory, already so abundant in the media.

The current EU effort to encourage burden-sharing among member states is another topic that How Much Further? addresses without requisite depth. The non-binding nature of EU policies and the hostility of some member states toward a common EU-wide asylum regime could have been explored in more detail. For example, one burgeoning area of scholarly analysis is the “securitization of migration” – partly a response to 9/11.4 The increasing number of EU agencies and information systems such as Europol, Eurojust, Frontex, and Eurosur – organizations designed to both combat and manage cross-border crime and irregular migration – have been used as evidence of the securitization of the EU’s borders.5 Recent conflicts, including the War on Terror, the Arab Spring in Tunisia, armed conflict in Libya, and the Syrian war, have resulted in large-scale migration movements. In addressing this mass movement of people, EU member states have often forgone collective action in favour of unilateral operations to restrict the flow of asylum seekers toward their borders. Member states appear to have a vested interest in retaining control over asylum seekers in their territory, though this attitude runs counter to the fact that scholars argue that asylum remains “a form of uncontrolled migration.”6

Thus, so long as political will continues to remain low among the member states, it is unlikely that we will see effective policy changes in the near future. To this point, a European Commission

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representative in the documentary hopes that “maybe if the Greek government showed that they are willing to do their part, then maybe other member states would be willing to do more.”7 The political blame-game continues with human lives hanging in the balance.

In brief, the team behind How Much Further? may have been overly ambitious with this documentary; forty-seven minutes is not enough time to tackle such a breadth of issues. Nevertheless, this film does provide a base level of balanced insight into the European asylum system – itself a scarcity in light of the highly fractious nature of contemporary migration discourse – that should be of great benefit to audiences in Europe and abroad.

Isabel Villeneuve is an M.A. Candidate at the Centre for European, Russian and Eurasian Studies at the Munk School of Global Affairs (University of Toronto). Her research interests include migration, EU asylum policies, and issues surrounding labour migration recruitment and regulation.

Notes 1.

ECRE, European Council on Refugees and Exiles, Greek Forum of Refugees EPIM, and Matthias Wiessler. How Much Further? (Athens, Greece, 2012).

2. Ibid.

3. Stephen Castles and Sean Loughna,“Trends in Asylum Migration to Industrialized Countries, 1990-2001,” in Poverty, International Migration and Asylum, ed. George J. Borjas and Jeff Crisp (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005), 40.

4. Christina Boswell and Andrew Geddes, Migration and Mobility in the European Union (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011), 162-163.

5. Alex Balch and Andrew Geddes,“The Development of the EU Migration and Asylum Regime,” in Migration and the New Technological Borders of Europe, eds. Huub Dijstelbloem and Albert Meijer (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011), 26.

6. Mathew Gibney and Randall Hansen, “Asylum Policy in the West: Past Trends, Future Possibilities,” in Poverty, International Migration and Asylum, ed. George J. Borjas and Jeff Crisp (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005), 71.

7. ECRE, EPIM, and Wiessler.

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FILM REVIEW fascism, inc Directed by Aris Chatzistefanou

Karolina Dejnicka

Fascism Inc. is documentary film-maker Aris Chatzistefanou’s third crowd-funded film to deal with the current Greek Crisis. While Debtocracy (2011) traced the origins of Greece’s economic crisis to the 1970s, and Catastroika (2012) looked at the implications of the current privatization of Greece’s public assets, Fascism Inc. (2014) is concerned with the relationship between right-wing movements and big business.

The film begins with a brief analysis of the Nuremberg trials, and asserts that due punishment was not meted out to the economic elites who had facilitated the Nazis’ rise to power and who had enthusiastically collaborated with the regime after 1933. From there, the film takes the viewer through a brief history of fascism in Mussolini’s Italy and Hitler’s Germany. The point is made that in both instances prominent bankers and industrialists actively funded the movements in order to secure favourable conditions for conducting business, and supported the fascist fight against workers’ rights and attacks on trade unionists. The narrator tells the audience that, “Fascism and Nazism offer the paradise that industries and banks dream of in a dictatorship context.” He further notes that, “democracy did not die in the hands of Mussolini and Hitler…it was clinically dead before they came to power.”

Photo: Protest at European Central Bank headquarters, Frankfurt am Main, Germany, JIP - Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons

karolina dejnicka

The documentary subsequently focuses on the history of fascism and dictatorship in Greece.

It states that the bourgeoisie in Greece had sought to finance right-wing parties as long ago as the late nineteenth-century, demonstrating how dependent dictatorial regimes, such as that of the Papadopolousled junta, were financially supported by the business elite. Arriving at the present day, the focus shifts to Golden Dawn. The documentary claims that several prominent businessmen, particularly those from the shipping industry, as well as their affiliated TV stations and newspapers, provided financial backing for the party. This support was, however, revoked when party supporters killed the rapper Pavlos Fyssas.

Here, Chatzistefanou does a commendable job exposing ties between the Greek mass media and various industries. Nevertheless, his emphasis on the role of business elites negates other factors, which contributed to the rise of fascism.

Chatzistefanou argues that Hitler’s failed Beer Hall Putsch exemplifies the fact that fascists have never come to power without the help of the economic elite. This analysis not only overemphasizes the topdown influence of money, but also fails to explore any other factors that may have worked to favour their political ascent. Further, fascists have never come to power without popular support, an idea which the film appears to concede when it brings up the failure of Oswald Mosley’s 1936 fascist march in London, where a few thousand supporters were rebuffed by 100,000 anti-fascists.

At the end of the film, Chatzistefanou captures a quote from a stage actor who asks, “How can anyone tell the truth about fascism unless they are willing to speak about capitalism which brings it forth?” as though fascism were the inevitable outcome of a capitalist system. In addition, the film’s conclusion notes that the European Union shares the blame for the rise of fascist parties under its purview. Although the film acknowledges that the EU’s culpability is more modest than that of the Nazis, it is “in subtle ways the same.” This is because, in an effort to impose its own geopolitical and economic agendas, the EU has supported a Greek coalition government which includes the

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Chatzistefanou captures a quote from a stage actor who asks, “How can anyone tell the truth about fascism unless they are willing to speak about capitalism which brings it forth?” as though fascism were the inevitable outcome of a capitalist system.

Popular Orthodox Rally (LAOS), and a coalition in Ukraine which includes Svoboda, both of which are controversial right-wing parties. The language of the film is polemical by choice, occasionally to the distraction of the viewer.

Still, the film’s shortcomings do not negate its valuable points. It is important to examine ties between business interests and party-funding everywhere. In the United States, the rightwing Tea Party movement seemed to balloon after appearing out of nowhere as a grassroots movement. Since then it has become apparent that various organizations which are part of the movement have received astronomical donations from elites such as the billionaire Koch brothers.

It is then perhaps unsurprising that the industrial heavyweights in Greece seek to manipulate the big news agencies – all of which they own – to fulfil an economic agenda. In this film, Chatzistefanou gives us an invaluable lesson in heeding the agendas of major media outlets, as well as a reminder always to “follow the money.”

Karolina Dejnicka is an M.A. Candidate at the Centre for European, Russian and Eurasian Studies at the Munk School of Global Affairs (University of Toronto). Her research interests include modern Turkey, Kurdish minority rights, Ottoman, Balkan and Eastern European history.

dispatches

letter from kiev

75

Ben mcvicker Last year I departed for the Russian Feder-

ation with a one-way ticket, and seven months of tumultuous travels and research ensued. My return to Canada in early September brought five months’ siesta, some catching up, and some maintenance appointments. But, as Anton Chekhov so phrased it, “Any idiot can face a crisis. It’s this day-to-day living that wears you out.” And so, having worn out in the familiar setting of Toronto, I relocated to Ukraine on February 7, 2014. It is an interesting if unpredictable time to be here. The War in Donbass (a.k.a. Donetsk, Lugansk, and Mariupol) is 700 kilometres east of Kiev, where I reside, and appears to be winding down. Its long-term consequences remain up in the air, with some people speaking of yet another revolution if things do not improve.

The first event that I attended in Kiev was a ceremony to mark the 26th anniversary of the Soviet-Afghan War’s conclusion on February 15.

Held at a monument not far from the World War II Museum, many people gathered to pay their respects, a short service was held, and veterans met at nearby tents after. Mercifully, the cast of Afghan veterans twice my age who I chatted with preferred cognac to vodka. Near the end, I bumped into a fellow whose height matched Zdeno Chara’s (for any Bruins or Senators fans out there). He turned out to be the Mayor of Kiev and former

boxing champ, Vitali Klitschko, who had arrived for a quick laying of flowers at the Afghan war monument with President Petro Poroshenko and Prime Minister Arseniy Yatseniuk. All went well until twenty minutes after the politicians left: a series of papers was laid out on the monument and its ten grave stones (one for each year of the war), decrying the veterans for “killing 2.5 million people” (quite inflated) and comparing their war to Russia’s actions in Chechnya, Transnistria, South Ossetia, etc. Shaking with rage, an Afghan veteran snatched one of the pieces of paper as I inched my way through its Ukrainian and crumpled it. “This must be Putin’s doing,” he fumed in disbelief. My landlord later remarked that there had been a movement to tear down the war monument and deem Russia responsible for the 160,000 Ukrainian veterans’ pensions. The sentiment must still be there for some, as the Afghan monument in Lviv was vandalized twice in April. Twenty-six years after the war’s conclusion it remains a sore spot for many.

On February 20, I attended the one-year anniversary of the Maidan Revolution. Throughout Maidan Square there are flowers, red candles of remembrance, and makeshift tributes to those killed February 18–23, 2014, and in the war that has followed. President Poroshenko gave a ten-minute

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First and facing page: Graffiti around Kiev. Above: tanks in Kiev with anti-Putin flyers stuck onto them.

Photo credit: Ben McVicker

speech to mark the occasion, focusing more on Russian aggression than his government’s achievements one year on. Reception seemed mixed. A nearby lady in her fifties joked that they should take Poroshenko off the stage and bring out Dmitro Yarosh (a favourite of Russian propagandists for his quotable nationalist rhetoric), who would at least be entertaining. Poroshenko spoke about unity between east, west, north, and south Ukraine, but it seemed a questionable statement to make.

Pensions for those in Donbass, for instance, have been halted for months to prevent the occupying forces from collecting funds. This has left the people dependent on fleeting savings, improvisation, and half-hearted “fraternal aid” from Russia. It will be difficult for Kiev to make amends, if and when Putin abandons his interest in the self-proclaimed republics. The music performed after Poroshenko’s speech was much better than the speech itself, especially when it got to the Ukrainian compositions near the end. Much like Slavic literature, the

“That’s not true. It was the Russians who invaded.”

“No, the EU conducted a detailed investigation after and determined that Saakashvili fired the first shots.”

“That never happened. I have a friend from Tbilisi. He told me how it was. I believe him.” songs are incredibly sad, but come with sparkles of positive notes that give them a sense of brilliance.

Here are a few sketches from my time here over the last three months:

Sveta was originally from Moscow, but has called Kiev home for a long time. The past year’s events left her very suspicious, whether we spoke of pol-

BEN MCVICKER

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iticians or day-to-day encounters on the subway.

She disliked both Poroshenko and Yatsenyuk, but bristled when I asked about parties of the far-right such as Svoboda. Sveta was particularly irate over Russia’s propaganda deeming Maidan supporters banderovtsy, referring to Stepan Bandera – a man worshipped by some and condemned by others (including the European Parliament), who led a Ukrainian nationalist army against the Soviets during World War II, periodically supported by the Nazis. “If the Russians see that you’ve got a stamp from Ukraine on your passport, they’ll start calling you Kanadskii-Banderovtsy,” she laughed.

The Old British Guy was an interesting expat to run into. He’d been in the British Army for about 15 years, and had spent a lot of time facing off with the IRA. He spoke of being at the front of the protest crowd when things got violent last February. He was also personally acquainted with Dmitro Yarosh, the leader of Right Sector. He insisted that despite the man’s outlandish statements for publicity (e.g., praising Chechen militants for “opening a second front against Moscow” after the December shootout in Grozny), he is quite sensible, disciplined, and well-organized.

Oksana was in Maidan Square when the shots

rang out. Her brother was killed, as was his friend.

Luckily, she was only grazed by a bullet. Still, a noggin bleeds quickly, and the first thing we did was compare scars. She was a vocal supporter of Yarosh and Right Sector, seeing them as the only alternative to the corrupt political parties. As with others, Oksana was swift to deny some things. I mentioned my disdain for Mikheil Saakashvili, the ex-President of Georgia who thought it was a good idea to fire artillery on South Ossetia after cozying up with NATO in 2008. Consequently, a few dozen civilians and fifteen Russian peacekeepers were killed, prompting military intervention.

“That’s not true. It was the Russians who invaded.”

“No, the EU conducted a detailed investigation after and determined that Saakashvili fired the first shots.”

“That never happened. I have a friend from Tbilisi.

He told me how it was. I believe him.”

The KGB Archive

During my first visit to Russia in 2006, a classmate insisted that within the KGB’s Moscow headquarters (the Lubyanka) there lay a small museum dedicated to their history. We tried three or four doors before finding one that would open, and went on to wander down a hall as gormless tourists, eventually being taken aside by a suited employee. Upon asking about a museum, we received a sharp bellow of “Nyet!” and were promptly shown the exit. In hindsight, we were probably lucky to have had such naive charm.

The headquarters of the SBU (Ukraine’s successor to the KGB) may be a bit more run down inside (the cloakroom still has a ‘Viktor Yushchenko 2004’ sticker in it) but it is much more pleasant to deal with than its Russian counterpart. A considerable number of KGB documents have been declassified, and if you choose the right theme or time period, you can even get them as scanned files on a USB stick the day after requesting them. It is far ahead of the Russian archives with their draconian photocopy rules, and points to what is arguably the biggest difference between the two countries that I have seen to date: technology, efficiency, and convenience. Who would have thought?

Looking through a hefty stack of files, it was striking to see how often Canada surfaced on the KGB’s radar. Many times over, there are grum-

78 bling reports on “extremist” Ukrainian groups or “banderovtsy” enjoying sponsorship on Canadian soil. Even Prime Minister Joe Clark gets redflagged for having “participated in a gathering of Ukrainian nationalists in Toronto” and delivering “a slanderous attack on Soviet foreign policy… drawing an analogy between ‘the suppression of the Ukrainian People’s Republic in 1920’ and the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan.”

Boris Nemtsov

The killing of Boris Nemtsov on February 28, 2015, caused a tremor in Ukraine. I don’t think it would be a stretch to say that he is more missed in Kiev than in Russia, as he was a staunch supporter of Ukraine joining the European Union. President Poroshenko and Prime Minister Yatseniuk hailed him as proof that one could be a patriot of Russia and a friend of Ukraine, posthumously awarding Nemtsov the Order of Liberty. Tributes, candles, and flowers were laid on Maidan Square, and his unsolved murder continues to receive television

Above: Russian munitions in Kiev. Credit: Ben McVicker

coverage. Ukraine’s disdain for Putin, though quite justified, colours a lot of the media and discussion on the topic. Anyone I’ve spoken to insists that the Russian president must have given a direct order for the killing – no ifs, ands, or buts. Kiev also has a dark sense of humour, with this being a joke I’ve heard recently:

“Did you hear that Vladimir Putin is so well mannered that he called Boris’ wife to offer his condolences over his murder?”

“Wow! Really?”

“Yes! In fact he’s so polite he called her twenty minutes before it happened.”

Another dose of dark humour came with Vladimir Putin’s ten day disappearance in March 2015: a wreath with a few choice words on its ribbons was

BEN MCVICKER

placed outside the Russian embassy here in Kiev, with a mock funeral held for Putin shortly thereafter. Wishful thinking for many.

Politics President Poroshenko and Prime Minister Yatseniuk have both seen their ratings tumble since I arrived in February, as have those of government organs in general. For a change, the United States’ Congress can brag of an approval rating twice as high as that of its allies: in a recent poll on the news, only 8 percent of Ukrainians actually trust their political parties. There is a wealth of grievances going around. Some are particularly disgruntled over the Poroshenko government’s failure to hunt down any of those responsible for the killings in Maidan Square, one year later. And it is not for lack of evidence or witnesses. One expat told me of being booted from his posh hotel room by a group of snipers who set up shop at his window. Surely the security cameras were working that day. Others feel frustrated with the lack of radical reforms; others still, are incensed by the raised tariffs and cuts to wages in the past year, with the Svoboda opposition party leading a protest outside parliament earlier in early April.

Oligarchs Igor Kolomoiskii, a bearded, pot-bellied oligarch worth up to US$7 billion depending on whom you ask, was a frequent star in the headlines last month.

Following the Maidan uprising he helped foot the bill for four or five militias, including the Russian media’s favourite recycled-footage stars, the Azov Battalion with the inverted Wolfsangel on their flag. Kolomoiskii recently took exception to the government’s efforts to crack down on corruption.

Some members of Dnepr-1, one of his militias, showed up at Ukranafta (Ukraine’s biggest oil and gas company) headquarters here in Kiev to put up a surrounding metal fence – or, as Kolomoiskii termed it, to carry out “routine anti-raider activity.”

In this case it seems that the “raiders” were government lawyers and tax collectors, trying to reel in some money from an individual with a 43 percent share in the industry.

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It seems that the “raiders” were government lawyers and tax collectors, trying to reel in some money from an individual with a forty-three percent share in the industry.

Kolomoiskii was shunted from his governorship of Dnepropetrovsk by executive order and no gunshots were fired. But it showed what a fragile state the government is in. If an oligarch is booted from the ring, ceases his funding of militias, and leaves them better armed than the malnourished Army, is this a risk that Ukraine can take? I feel sorry for President Poroshenko, as he has no easy answers to choose from.

All in all, Kiev is a lovely city in a difficult

time. While unified against Russia (at least in the West), peoples’ support for the post-Maidan government seems quite grudging, and I cannot imagine it holding out for a four-year term. I was reading Peter Pomerantsev’s Nothing Is True, And Everything Is Possible on my flight overseas, which discusses Russia’s willingness to live with myths, rather than truths, as propagated on television.

So far Ukraine has given me a similar impression, the difference being that the assorted myths come from the people instead of the fragile state.

Ben McVicker is an alumni of CERES and a Ph.D. candidate in History at the University of Toronto.

He is currently stationed in Keiv, Ukraine, researching the cultural and political representation of veterans of the Soviet-Afghan War. Three months in, he has not encountered any juntas or neo-Nazis.

Photo credit: Ben McVicker

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About Eurasiatique

The Eurasiatique annual graduate journal is a publication that is organized, designed and implemented by graduate students at the Centre for European, Russian and Eurasian Studies (CERES) at the University of Toronto. Each edition examines interdisciplinary themes bringing together graduate work from CERES and its international partner institutions.

Eurasiatique accepts submissions of creative and engaging work from various disciplines that enhances dialogue and understanding of the regions of Europe, Russia and Eurasia. For more information please visit: www.ceresjournal.com. Inquiries and comments may be emailed to: ceresjournal@gmail.com.

About CERES

The Centre for European, Russian and Eurasian Studies is one of North America’s leading academic institutes for the study of the member states of the European Union, Central, Eastern and Southeastern Europe and countries of the former Soviet Union.

Part of the Munk School of Global Affairs at the University of Toronto, the Centre promotes interdisciplinary scholarship and teaching in the social sciences and humanities.

Photo: “Sloviansk standoff - 18-20 April 2014 - 04” by Aleksandr Sirota[CC].