The Birch Journal Spring 2019 by The Birch Journal

THE BIRCH The Birch Spring 2019

SPRING 2019

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SPRING 2019

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Spring 2019

Contents 1. POLITICS

2. 2

Camille Butera, The Failure of the Zhenotdel: The Bolshevik Government and the Lack of Equity Provided to Russian Women, 1917-1930

Madeline Topor, Nationalism and Archaelogy in Poland

Sabrina Chen, Kosovoâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Surge in Gender Equality Legislation: Pursuing EU Accession

Emily Sandall, Lenin on Sale: Reinterpretations of Socialism in the USSR After World War II

LITERARY CRITICISM Mattingly Gerasimovich, An Analysis of Women and Their Role in the Works of Maxim Gorky, Evgeny Zamyatin, and Mikhail Bulgakov

Liya Wizevich, The Burning Question: Looking for Answers in Moscowâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Great Fire

Grace Docherty, Silent Witnesses: The Role of Materials in Late Imperial-Era Russia Crime Fiction

Grace Docherty, Kuznetskstroi. Sotsialisticheskii gigant.

Anna Box, Making Everybody Go-Gol Wild(e): An Analysis of Fashion, Sexuality, and Nationality in the Lives and Works of Nikolai Gogol and Oscar Wilde

3. 4. 5. 6.

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CULTURE Farid Djamalov, Pavlensky Fixed in History: Contemporary Russian Performance Art Through the Lens of Abjection

TRANSLATION Anya Konstantinovsky, Death of a Government Clerk

CREATIVE WRITING Yulia Alexandr, Poem Number Two

Yulia Alexandr, Poem Number Three

Liza Libes, Сказка, A Tale

ART & PHOTOGRAPHY by Liya Wizevich, Sasha Starovoitov, Wanzhen Jun, and Roman Shemakov

The Birch

Spring 2019

About The Birch Founded in 2004, The Birch is the first national undergraduate publication devoted exclusively to Slavic, Eastern European, and Eurasian studies. The journal is run by Columbia University students and annually publishes work by current undergraduates from many different colleges. We accept submissions of creative writing, art and photography, literary criticism, and essays on the culture and politics of the region. You can find more information about The Birch online on our Facebook page, our website (thebirchonline. org), and by emailing us at thebirchjournal@gmail.com.

Our Staff Editors-in-chief Jack Treval and Liza Libes Treasurer Anya Konstantinovsky Secretary Wanzhen Jun Politics Editors Denis Tchaouchev and Katherine Malus Culture Editor Sabrina Chen Literary Criticism Editor Noa Gur-Arie Creative Writing Editor Sasha Starovoitov Translations Editors Liza Libes and Anya Konstantinovsky Cover photograph by Jack Treval Gergeti Trinity Church above Stepantsminda, the Republic of Georgia, 2018.

From the Editors Dear Readers of The Birch,

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We are excited to present our Spring 2019 issue of the journal! As interest in Eastern Europe and Eurasia continues to grow, we hope that the pieces in the journal will provide readers with a deeper understanding of the cultural and political issues pertaining to the region. The analytical pieces we included this year explore the role of women in classic Russian literature (38), the impact of EU accession movements on progressive legislation (24), contemporary performance art and activism(78), and how fashion features in the work of famous European authors (70), among other topics. In their creative works, contributors write about growing into adulthood (90) and a relationship (93). This issue features a translation of Death of a Government Clerk by Anton Chekov. Also, the art and photography section features impressive original works that capture scenes from various regions. In this edition, we strove to include works encompassing many different regions and time periods. However, we also tried to include contributions from writers and photographers from different backgronds and experience. In doing so, we hope to show a broader range of the large and growing body of students studying Eastern Europe and the region of the former Soviet Union. We would like to thank the contributors to this issue and the editorial staff for their hard work. We hope you enjoy reading this edition of The Birch. Jack Treval and Liza Libes

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This Issue’s Contributors Camille Butera studies Sociology at Smith College · Madeline Topor studies Anthropology, Archaeology, and Polish at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor · Sabrina Chen studies Economics and Political Science at Columbia University · Emily Sandall studies Slavic Studies at Connecticut College · Mattingly Gerasimovich studies International Affairs at the George Washington University· Liya Wizevich studies Russian and East European Studies at the University of Pennsylvania · Yulia Alexandr studies Mathematics at Wesleyan University · Grace Docherty studies Russian and International Relations at the University of St. Andrews · Anna Box studies at the University of California, San Diego · Farid Djamalov studies Art History at Dartmouth College · Anya Konstantinovsky studies Russian Language and Literature at Barnard College · Liza Libes studies English at Columbia University · Sasha Starovoitov studies at Columbia University · Jack Treval studies Political Science and Slavic Studies at Columbia University · Wanzhen Jun studies at Columbia University · Roman Shemakov studies at Swarthmore College

POLITICS

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The Failure of the Zhenotdel: The Bolshevik Government and the Lack of Equity Proved to Russian Women between 1917 and 1930. Camille Butera

One of the promises of the Bolshevik government, upon its implementation in the late 1910s, was that it would provide equity for Soviet women, and improve both their political prospects and quality of life. Focusing on the changes that occurred between 1917 (when the Bolsheviks came to power) and 1930 (when the Zhenotdel, the Womenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s department of the Communist party was shut down as a result of the second Five Year Plan), allows an analysis of how legislature and programs were implemented to change social values that impacted working class women. Improvement is defined as legislation which allowed rights previously not held by women and social attitudes

which permitted full access to these rights. Consideration of both the perspectives put forth by feminist activists of the era and the writings of historians allows a broader picture to be found wherein the early utopian ideals of the Bolsheviks initially provided a variety of rights and social mobility for women. However, due to an inability to undo the patriarchal framework that the government was constructed in, as well as shifting government desires, these rights were slowly supplanted and erased. The arguments put forth by Alexandra Kollontai, one of the leaders of the womenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s movement1 was that the 1

Alexandra Kollontai. â&#x20AC;&#x153;THE SOVIET

government successfully provided an improved quality of life for Russian Women. She argued that the Bolshevik government provided opportunities for women to step outside of traditional limitations. One historian, Galili, argues that while the government had mixed motives for the legislature passed, it did aid women in ways such as creating equal pay in 1917, legalizing abortions in 1920 and allowing women to own land in 19222. Alexandra Kollonati, the Marxist revolutionary and author, in her then contemporary writing, pushed against the idea that the Russian government had ulterior motives, as she was a member of the Zhenotdel and ensured the creation of a socialized welfare system3, where state run daycares and cleaning services allowed women freedom to work and escape pressure of domestic tasks.4 Kollontai also argued that women’s ability to enter labor was revolutionized, as seen by the Zhenotdel’s (a political party for women workers) creation. Clements, a historian who focuses upon the utopianism of the WOMAN-A FULL AND EQUAL CITIZEN OF HER COUNTRY.” Revolutionary Democracy 20:1 (April 2014), 77. (https:// www.galileo.usg.edu) 2 Ziva Galili. “Women and Russian Revolution.” Dialectal Anthropology 15:2/3 (1990): 122. (http://www.jstor.org/) 3 Elizabeth Waters. “The Bolsheviks and the Family.” Contemporary European History 4:3 (1995): 281. (http://www.jstor. org/) 4 Jinee Lokaneeta. “Alexandra Kollontai and Marxist Feminism.” Economic and Political Weekly 36:17 (2001):1409. (http://www.jstor.org/)

Bolsheviks, portrays the zhenodelovkis (Zhenotdel supporters) as pushing for women having an active role, as the new government would restructure women’s roles5, which Professor Goldman, the Paul Mellon Distinguished Professor of History at Carnegie Mellon University, claims failed to happen, due to an uneven distribution of emotional, political, and work-based labor between women and men6. However, Kollontai’s data on the entrance of women into the workforce demonstrates that it did increase from 423,200 to 885,000 over 1923 to 19307. The entrance of women into labor was fraught with conflict, but a notable increase of female laborers can be seen, despite social factors that limited it. Alongside the entrance of women into skilled labor, government publications and legislature fostered positive feelings towards female liberation, and lead to women in more active roles. For example, Russian women’s portrayal within government media (Gork’ii’s Mat) showed women as noble, which fostered a belief that women were able to hold power and contribute to labor and government, at least as figureheads8. 5 Barbara Evans Clements “The Utopianism of the Zhenotdel” Slavic Review 51:3 (1992): 488-489. (http://www.jstor.org/) 6 Wendy Z Goldman. “Industrial Politics, Peasant Rebellion and the Death of the Proletarian Women’s Movement in the USSR.” Slavic Review 55:1 (1996): 59. (http:// www.jstor.org/) 7 Wendy Z Goldman, Women At The Gates (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002): 12. 8 Heather Dehaan. “Engendering a

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Interestingly, Kollontai, in her activism rejected this symbolic representation of women, and instead argued for a cultural recognition of them as autonomous figures instead9. This was reinforced with the Bolshevik Party’s creation of a more open sexual code, which recognized women as women with human desires, rather than just noble ideas made flesh10. The purpose of the Zhenotdel is disputed among contemporary historians, with some arguing that it trained women so they were able to maneuver through the male-dominated government11 and created solidarity to strengthen the movement12, whereas others proposed it created a space for women to be separated from cultural norms13. However, it is still seen as a space that positively contributed to the mental and social welfare of women, and altogether, the positive elements of the Bolsheviks promotion of women can be seen in it. Even if one agrees that there were positive gains from the Zhenotdel, there are disagreements over the angle the Bolshevik Government took and whether People: Soviet Women and Socialist Rebirth in Russia”Canadian Slavonic Papers 41:3/4 (1999): 440-441. (http://www.jstor.org/) 9 Lokaneeta. “Alexandra Kollontai and Marxist Feminism.”,1411. 10 Clements. “The Utopianism of the Zhenotdel.”,491. 11 Clements. “The Utopianism of the Zhenotdel.”, 495. 12 Joan Sangster. “The Communist Party and the Woman Question, 1922-1929.” Labor / Le Travail 15 (1985): 44. (http://www. jstor.org/) 13 Lokaneeta. “Alexandra Kollontai and Marxist Feminism.”,1409.

it was primarily social14 or labor based15. But even with this, a general consensus can be found that the Government intimately changed women’s lives by breaking down pre-existing social problems because of the reconfiguration inherent in Communist governments16. The social breakdown enabled women to access previously unheld rights. While the Bolshevik government intervened to improve the lives of Russian women, the way it portrayed its aid must be contrasted with the actual reach of the aid, to see where it fell short on its promises. It can be argued that the government promised to help women but did not maintain its promises and only made them gain the women’s initial support, as seen in a Bolshevik journal, Kommunistika, which reported in 1928 that work conditions among women had worsened, pointing to discontentment among working women17. In addition, the support Bolsheviks provided to the Zhenotdel and the magazine Woman’s Worker was primarily a tactical consideration due to the need for support in the Bolshevik Revolution’s early days18. Finally, there were failures to 14 Dehaan. “Engendering a People.” 440-441. 15 Kollontai. “THE SOVIET WOMAN”. 16 Clements. “The Utopianism of the Zhenotdel.”,488-489. 17 Anne Gorsuch. “’A Woman is Not a Man:’ The Culture of Gender and Generation in Soviet Russia.” Slavic Review 55:3 (1996): 637. (http://www.jstor.org/) 18 Galili. “Women and Russian

address women’s issue in labor as a separate issue from general laborers issue19 (there were many unskilled women who were not hired20, and only 28.4% of women were employed by 193021), and one can claim that this attitude leads to male members of the Bolshevik party allocating fewer resources to the Zhenotdel during the New Economic Plan, which increased countryside poverty and unemployment of women22, and the Zhenotdel’s dissolution in 1930 as it was believed that equality had been established solely through legislature23. In addition, the legislature and programs passed failed to benefit women and the programs created by the Bolsheviks that were meant to de-genderize the labor force relied upon gendered labor. The historian Elizabeth Waters, who studies the intersection of gender and Soviet history at the Australian National University and is a detractor of Kollontai, said that the primary goal with socializing domestic tasks was to enable women to enter the workforce, not equalize gender relationships, which lead to state institutions that socialized domestic tasks, but still expected them to be staffed by women. However, this freed 9 out of

10 women to work in factories24, which indicates that this action did have some positives and that women were franchised somewhat. The positives of this action were reduced by the fact that the government did not act to remove the societal prejudices that impacted women, and in some ways perpetuated them. Women had the triple expectations to split their time over family, labor and the Komsomol25 (the local party headquarters, which encouraged men to take an active role), while men were simply expected to work26, perpetuating the cultural expectations that existed before the Bolsheviks27. This is a result of the Bolshevik government being created in the framework of a patriarchal culture, with minimal steps taken to restructure how emotional labor was distributed. This concept is supported by the fact that women were often referred to as the ‘otstalyi sloi’, which mean ‘the backwards stratum28. This demonstrates that the cultural understanding of women and how women were interacted with had not shifted beyond the earlier structure of society and that women were still seen as less educated and lower on the social hierarchy than men.

Revolution.”,122. 19 Goldman. “Death of the Proletarian Women’s Movement.”, 55. 20 Goldman, Women At The Gates. 16. 21 Goldman. Women At The Gates, 12. 22 Goldman. “Death of the Proletarian Women’s Movement.”,52. 23 Goldman. “Death of the Proletarian Women’s Movement.”,64.

24 Waters. “The Bolsheviks and the Family.”, 281. 25 Gorsuch. “A Woman is Not a Man.”,643. 26 Gorsuch. “A Woman is Not a Man.”,641. 27 Gorsuch. “A Woman is Not a Man.”,637. 28 Anne Bobroff. “The Bolsheviks and Working Women 1905-20” Soviet Studies 26:4 (1974): 541. (http://www.jstor.org/)

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In addition, a Soviet play titled Inga by Anatolli Glebov had a portrayal of women that was intended to demonstrate the hypocrisy of the Bolshevik government. It showed how the government failed to make its ideals accessible via social reform: women could not access ideas and therefore could not act upon them. In the play, Inga, the titular character, is the ideal of the Soviet woman, was sent to bring a clothing factory in the Soviet era. However, she is met with contestation by both the men and the women in the factory. She is referred to as a “laboratory project” by one man, who argued that while she represents an ideal, most women are content to stay at home and care for children, and ought to29. This represents how men of the era perpetuated an intellectual disenfranchisement of women, that limited their access to the rights that had supposedly been granted to them. A final blow to the idea that the Bolshevik government supported women as autonomous beings and political entities were the motive behind the legalization of abortion. Rather than granting sexual autonomy, the laws were most likely enacted to reduce the population, not to grant equality30. This perspective is reinforced by Goldman’s data on the high population of abandoned children in the early Bolshevik Government31. The act of abandoning 29 Galili. “Women and Russian Revolution.”,126. 30 Waters. “The Bolsheviks and the Family.”, 285. 31 Goldman. Women At The Gates,17.

children indicates that women were unable to care for them, which meant that the state would have to step in. By providing legal abortion, the government could then reduce this issue. While this legislature technically was to help improve the condition of women, it acted as a mode of control over the reproductive rights of women, rather than a way to grant them sexual autonomy. This evidence shows that while the government did feel an obligation to provide equal rights to women out of a nearly utopian idealism32, they failed to adequately act on these obligations, due to more focus being placed on the stabilization of the government and pre-existing biases33. The failure to eliminate these biases placed the difficult expectation for women to undertake a domestic and labor role34. Kollontai, as a political entity, seems oblivious of the social hardships that continued to face women 35 and fails to account for how her philosophy is not applicable to country women unable to leave the culture in which they resided36. The idea that the government provided equity to women fails because society did not become more unbiased during the era, and despite the desire to uphold Bolshevik philosophy, it could not be applied to the 32 Clements. “The Utopianism of the Zhenotdel.”,491. 33 Goldman. “Death of the Proletarian Women’s Movement.”, 55. 34. Gorsuch. “A Woman is Not a Man.”,643. 35 Kollontai. “THE SOVIET WOMAN”. 36 Galili. “Women and Russian Revolution.”,122.

standard woman’s life. While the legislature aided women, the legislature itself was not focused on breaking down social boundaries and was more focused on the creation of a female workforce, with little regard to the harsh social realities faced by women37 and the expectation that women could immediately to enter the workplace at the same level as men despite being untrained38. While the entrance of some women into labor does qualify as an improvement, the failure to actually instill a sense of equity in the workforce kept improvement for women to a minimum. The creation of the Zhenotdel indicates that there was a desire within the government to improve women’s status39. This sentiment slowly faded until the 1930 dissolution of the Zhenotdel40. The government claims it was because equality had been reached, but it was most likely because the government failed to address women’s issues41. The negative cultural environment deprived women of the greater degree of social mobility and effectively limited what they could do within both a political and home life structure. Overall, the government mademinor attempts to improve and change the culture in this era, but they failed to reach their full potential and apply its ideology to a practical reality. 37 Waters. “The Bolsheviks and the Family.”, 281. 38 Goldman. Women At The Gates, 12. 39 Clements. “The Utopianism of the Zhenotdel.”,491. 40 Goldman. “Death of the Proletarian Women’s Movement.”,64. 41 Goldman. “Death of the Proletarian Women’s Movement.”, 55.

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Nationalism and Archaelogy in Poland Madeline Topor

Archaeology provides a way to learn about the past through the study of artifacts, but perceptions of the past can be manipulated through these objects to serve a political agenda. A pattern of altering historical narratives through archaeological evidence emerged during the Romantic period in Poland and continued throughout the following centuries with the rise of nationalism in Poland. To show that ethnic Poles had the ability to govern their own nation-state, the archaeological remains of other groups were disregarded to further support the sovereignty of the Polish state. Nationalists traced the lineage of a single ethnic group and utilized this as compelling evidence to establish an independent nation-state in the territory where they had proof of developing their

culture over time. While many believe that the influence of nationalism is in Polandâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s past, ignoring the prevalence of this movement in the modern political climate will lead to negative consequences in the future when knowledge is controlled to shape public perceptions of history. The political situation within nation-states such as Poland determines how cultural heritage can be manipulated to legitimize political sovereignty; nationalistic biases have led to the misinterpretation of material culture within archaeology in an effort to validate the independence of an ethnic group. The rise of nationalism in Poland today is largely a result of the complicated history of foreign intervention and revolt beginning in the late 18th century. The partitions of Poland by the Russian,

Prussian, and Austro-Hungarian empires in 1772, 1793, and 1795 divided up the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth among the three powers. This complete erasure of the state incited a series of failed revolts that persisted for the following decades, culminating in the January Uprising of 1863-64, which was the last major revolution against the occupying forces during the Romantic period. Poland was partitioned for 123 years until the end of World War I when it was finally restored. However, this independence was shortlived, as the Soviet Union developed a new communist government in Poland following World War II. The modern nation-state of Poland did not arise until the fall of the Soviet Union decades later. This pattern of land partitioning, war, foreign intervention, and revolt has cemented nationalistic policy into Poland’s history, and its influence continues into the present day. Before the influence of Polish nationalism in the archaeological record can be analyzed, it is necessary to define precisely what is meant by nationalism and how it is understood in archaeological terms. Nationalism prioritizes state interests over all other affairs, and the field of archaeology is no exception.1 Although nationalism is a broad term used to acknowledge a political ideology in the field, varying subcategories are used

to differentiate between the objectives focused on by political entities. Civic and ethnic nationalism are distinct, as they are utilized for different goals depending on the ideology of the state. Civic, or inclusive, nationalism defines a state’s population on the basis of citizenship, while ethnic, or exclusive, nationalism defines a population based on ethnic origin.2 Newly established nations often rely on ethnic nationalism to create a common cultural history to validate their newly acquired territory and to enforce their newfound political sovereignty. In the eyes of the state, a long, prosperous history backed by material evidence reinforces the notion that the majority culture is able to effectively govern the new nation. This sense of cultural pride develops within the population when they perceive themselves as having a common language and culture whose origin can be traced back through time; there is frequently a “golden age” within the chronology that the new nation attempts to emulate.3 Accordingly, archaeology’s ability to provide tangible evidence of a cultural presence and a connection to an ancestral lineage makes it a desirable field for state control.4 It is easier to unify a group, such as ethnic Poles (referred to in this essay as people claiming Polish ancestry), when all of its members believe that they can trace their ancestry back to a certain time and place, allowing them to perceive a sense of

1 Victor A. Shnirel’Man, “Nationalism and Archaeology,” Anthropology and Archaeology of Eurasia 52, no. 2 (2013): 13.

2 Shnirel’Man, “Nationalism and Archaeology,” 13. 3 Ibid., 13. 4 Ibid., 14.

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common nationality in the modern state. It is easier to establish credibility and validity for the long history of a cultural group when tangible artifacts and archaeological sites can be used as markers of a people’s heritage. Therefore, archaeologists are used to help form identities that align with state interests, which tend to be nationalistic in Eastern Europe, especially in the case of Poland and the struggle for independence. Material traces of this ancestral activity within the territory of the state are used to legitimize the political entity and create a sense of national pride for past cultural achievements within a population. Demonstrating ancestral achievement is particularly prevalent in nations such as Poland that have experienced historical trauma in the form of land partitioning, revolts, war, rule by foreign nations, and the loss and reinstatement of statehood.5 While cultural achievements are celebrated, “defeat, the idea of heroism and sacrifice, [and] of readiness to give one’s life for the freedom of one’s people” are equally, if not more important.6 In this way, the Romantic themes of sacrifice and revolution popularized in the first half of the 19th century are no longer restricted to literary and cultural practices; instead, they can now be demonstrated in conjunction with archaeological material to promote the struggle for national

5 6

Ibid. Ibid.

liberation.7 Archaeological finds are frequently used to define a state’s territory and can become national symbols for asserting rights to independence.8 This use of artifacts for what Shnirel’Man calls ideological propaganda demonstrates how nationalistic beliefs can manipulate images of the past to be used as key symbols of a culture.9 As a result, there is a complicated relationship between the archaeological record and the state that is heavily influenced by nationalism and varying political interests. The development and very definition of a nation-state is inextricably linked to cultural heritage and archaeological material, allowing the state to influence archaeology and create negative extremist biases. A nation-state is a population sharing history, language or traditions organized under one political system, and the modern nation-states in Eastern Europe were generally established based on populations of ethnic groups that seemed to share a common heritage.10 The search for this “direct evolutionary descent between modern nations and the populations of the distant past,” including “mythical peoples,” leads the state to accept and even prefer pseudoscientific narratives, which tend to be based on the 7 Ibid. 8 Ibid., 15. 9 Ibid. 10 Aleksandr Diachenko, “Archaeology and the Nation State. The Case of Eastern Europe,” Archaeological Dialogues 23, no. 1 (2016): 4.

archaeological evidence with a falsified or exaggerated account detailing the history behind it.11 State authorities then use these narratives for national politics and the education of the public.12 In this way, they control the available knowledge and determine how it is perceived by the public. Archaeological sites and artifacts possessing symbolic meanings of cultural heritage are manipulated in politics to further increase nationalistic sentiment, creating biases within the discipline that strictly adhere to the subversive goals of the state. These goals are often connected to local archaeology, which deals with restoring genealogy and tends to be more emotionally charged, enabling this subfield to align closely with nationalistic aims since it is based on ethnic nationalism.13 An even more precise term, nationalist archaeology, has been developed to better explain this phenomenon. States, especially those that have recently formed, create political goals that utilize archaeological research for nation-building and the formation of national identity.14 This emphasis on state development results from a country’s (in this case Poland’s) need to prove itself as capable of independently developing and managing the new state form of government. The rise of Romanticism in 11 Diachenko, “Archaeology and the Nation State. The Case of Eastern Europe,” 6. 12 Ibid., 6. 13 Shnirel’Man, “Nationalism and Archaeology,” 24. 14 Ibid., 24.

the early 19 century and its basis in nationalistic sentiment influenced the development of archaeology as a field used to support the formation of a common cultural heritage. The Romantic movement emphasized emotion over reason, individuality, and revolution. Andrzej Walicki describes Romantic nationalism in Poland as promoting the idea of a national goal which encompasses the spirit of self-sacrifice as a national virtue.15 Romantic nationalism makes “peoples” the primary focus in the field; this focus on particular ethnic groups historically living in a territory was used to fight for and justify the right to statehood.16 This pattern is again witnessed with the rise of communism in Eastern Europe in the 20th century, when countries like Poland were trying to free themselves from foreign intervention in state affairs. Along with the widespread theme of sacrifice and martyrdom prevalent in the Romantic era, antiquarianism became part of the intensified national movement. The study of the ancient past, along with its customs and relics, closely tied antiquarians to the field of archaeology. Increased interest in antiquarianism and artifacts developed around the same time as the Romantic movement as a way to strengthen a narrative of national identity. The sudden disappearance of the country as a result of the partitions fostered a “sudden interest th

15 L. R. Lewitter, The Historical Journal 26, no. 4 (1983): 1030-032. 16 Shnirel’Man, “Nationalism and Archaeology,” 17.

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in the past of the Polish nation, including the local antiquities.”17 Therefore, the shared goal to eventually establish Polish independence links the movements of Romanticism and antiquarianism through both of their efforts to create cultural unity and develop a national mythology. A popular view was spreading that a nation that understands its past and preserves its cultural practices can endure without statehood.18 The Positivist movement in Poland advocated for this idea, believing that “organic work,” or labor in place of uprisings, would build the foundations of a Polish society. While the Romantic literary sources are vital for perpetuating mythic retellings of historical events to advocate for revolution, particularly Adam Mickiewicz’s Konrad Wallenrod and Books of the Polish Nation and the Polish Pilgrimage, archaeological material is critical when it comes to providing the physical evidence that is needed to form a chronology for an ethnic group; however, the analysis of this evidence is heavily biased by nationalistic goals and is primarily used to establish statehood. This is because the whole premise of antiquarianism is based on the collection of antiques rather 17 Włodzimierz Rączkowski, “‘Drang Nach Westen?’: Polish Archaeology and National Identity,” in Nationalism and Archaeology in Europe, (UCL Press, 1996), 192. 18 Rączkowski, “‘Drang Nach Westen?’: Polish Archaeology and National Identity,” 192.

than objective research. Archaeology was greatly influenced by the Romantic movement and, subsequently, the rise of antiquarianism in the 19th century that allowed nationalists to alter the discipline to pursue their own goals of national independence. The legitimization of political sovereignty through archaeology is best exemplified by the Polish national struggle to claim Slavic descent. In particular, the partitions of Poland sparked development in the study of Slavs and the collection of national mementos. The sudden loss of statehood could contribute to the loss of Polish cultural identity, so while the nation had no physical borders, Poles attempted to maintain the state culturally. Archaeology provides a viable solution for the search for past ancestors. Therefore, the Slavs’ historical importance to Polish heritage was enthusiastically recognized to a great extent; however, these claims were not critically evaluated. During this time, it was common practice to believe that all artifacts, features, and sites that were found in areas where Slavs were thought to have lived were Slavic relics. Chronology was not considered, making the process of developing false histories for the sake of a unifying national mythology considerably easier.19 The blatant rejection of objective and thorough analyses again supports the idea that during the era of the partitions, archaeology was valued because it could fulfill political goals. Other explanations 19

Ibid., 193.

for recovered archaeological material were ignored because the “relics” were necessary in the “process of creating Polish national identity and of establishing the right to possess territory.”20 Also, some believed that a more convincing case could be made for the liberation of Poland if the Polish people could lay claim to a pre-existing culture that they could prove they were descended from. This allowed the political situation within the lost nation-state to control the manipulation of cultural heritage and to demand territory that was supposedly held by the ancestors of the Polish people. Besides focusing strictly on the material remains of the Slavs, archaeologists often concentrated on indicating differences between Slavs and Germanic peoples. This occurred for two main reasons: to emphasize the common relationship between Slavs, and to support anti-Germanic attitudes. Again, these ideas stemmed from the Romantic period and stressed the unity of Slavic nations, calling for a common fight for freedom and independence.21 The shared heritage of languages, tradition, customs and social organization is used as a foundation for the unification of a culture that is unsure of how to define itself without a political presence.22 This concept became influential because it helped to establish what it meant to be “Polish” when people could no longer rely on the nation-state as a source of

20 21 22

Ibid. Ibid., 197. Ibid.

heritage. The unclear past of the Slavs was appealing simply because it was so unclear: nationalists could construct a mythology based around fragmentary evidence that would serve their political goal of finally achieving an independent state. This was the primary goal of archaeology during this time, but a great deal of artifact interpretation resulted from the desire to contradict German views.23 While there was an ongoing rivalry between Polish and German archaeologists to identify “nicer” or “more valuable” artifacts as belonging to either group, archaeological discoveries and analyses were conducted largely to contradict German views on ethnic questions.24 This generally occurred through stereotypes and material culture because “material culture with symbolic meaning is… an integral part of power relations, as symbols of ethnic identity appear [to be] aimed at group mobilization.”25 The interpretations of archaeologists were frequently influenced by national and independence movements, which perpetuated stereotypes that idealized one group while criticizing the other. It was a widely-held belief that the Germanic people were “aggressive plunderers striving after the domination of the world,” while the Slavs were “hardworking, ‘cherishing peace and housework,’ 23 Florin Curta, “Medieval Archaeology and Ethnicity: Where are we?” History Compass 9, no. 7 (2011): 538. 24 Curta, “Medieval Archaeology and Ethnicity: Where are we?” 538. 25 Ibid.

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helpful and hospitable.” These popular stereotypes were invoked by nationalists to criticize the German oppression and promote the liberation efforts, creating negative views of the Germans that would persuade more Poles to fight for freedom.26 In this way, Poles used the material culture and ongoing archaeological debate within Eastern Europe to seek independence. In addition, archaeology was used to mobilize those claiming Polish heritage and descent from the Slavs against the common Germanic enemy who was responsible for the partition of land and foreign rule. These trends can still be observed in Poland long after the Romantic period ended through a visible resurgence in nationalism in the field of archaeology. After the new borders were established following World War I in 1918, the political goals of the new nation changed, altering archaeological practices with it. There was a focus on changing the borders to favor Poland and stop the intrusion of German culture.27 As seen before, archaeologists played a prominent role in supporting these goals, as their research often aligned to discredit German arguments. After the war, Polish archaeologists could work in entirely Polish scientific institutions, contributing to a sense of national pride while also further isolating research and scientific study to the goals of the state.28 26 Rączkowski, “‘Drang Nach Westen?’: Polish Archaeology and National Identity,” 198. 27 Ibid., 202. 28 Ibid., 203.

Shortly after, the arguments of the previous century were resumed, taking on a more emotional and nationalistic character, highlighting how controversial these debates over cultural heritage still were.29 It is interesting to consider the fact that these same arguments over nationalism should come to the forefront again, especially since the independent nation-state of Poland has finally been achieved. However, even though Poland was an established political entity, there was a need to prove that the state had historical rights to regained territories (particularly after World War II). Along with this, some tried to convince Poles that the new territory was final, since it was the result of “historic justice.”30 Archaeologists continued to serve the needs of the government because they believed that they were assisting society and proving their patriotism. While independence had been achieved, nationalist attitudes prevailed to show that Poland should remain independent. The archaeological record was used to support this by searching for evidence of Polish settlement and the development of culture in various areas of the state. While these areas of research were eventually suppressed under communist rule, this ongoing trend can still be observed in the 21st century, proving just how deeply nationalism affects archaeology in Poland.

29 30

Ibid. Ibid., 209.

As the archaeological record is used to support ideas of ethnic homogeneity within a region, minority groups coexisting with the majority ethnicity often receive the most detrimental effects from nationalistic ideology. In varying political situations, archaeological data is treated differently depending on the group it is aimed at, either portraying the “dominant” group in a positive light or criticizing minorities. For example, before there was a push in the 20th century to discredit German ideas on ethnicity, Polish archaeologists would interpret any artifact coming from around the territory as evidence of Slavic occupation. This was no longer the case after the world wars when only the “more valuable” artifacts were seen as Slavic, while the “lesser” objects were representative of Germanic inferiority.31 This issue manifests itself in field methodology when archaeologists influenced by nationalistic political views “uncover material evidence important for the nation as quickly as possible.”32 The national perspective often has a very different concept of what is “significant,” and this gives certain artifacts or features preference in research.33 This leads to further issues of bias in the field because small finds that reveal everyday life are disregarded for objects that have supposed “national significance,” ignoring 31 Curta, “Medieval Archaeology and Ethnicity: Where are we?” 538. 32 Shnirel’Man, “Nationalism and Archaeology,” 23. 33 Ibid.

the influence of the lives of average groups of people.34 Along with limited studies of archaeological material directed towards daily life, the heritage of minorities within the proclaimed territory of the majority ethnicity are frequently ignored or disparaged. This occurs primarily during excavations when material from layers that are thought to be “uninteresting” is not recorded properly, if it is acknowledged at all.35 This shows how nationalistic motives in archaeology fail to recognize the multitude of ethnic groups and the wide availability and diversity of the artifacts associated with them. The intentional loss of material evidence representing various other cultures also serves to establish the “superiority” of the nationalist group because they can then claim that other groups failed to independently develop their own cultural achievements. The establishment and destruction of monuments, and the process of determining their significance, was another factor that worked to shape Polish national identity. The physical destruction of a monument representing some aspect of a group’s heritage serves to erase any memory of the “enemy,” while also removing evidence of diversity within a given territory.36 While it is possible to sustain the traditions of an ethnic group through cultural practices even if 34 35 36

Ibid. Ibid. Ibid., 26.

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there is no nation-state, it is much more difficult to retain those practices when the physical cultural representations of a group’s heritage are gone. The complete destruction of Warsaw after World War II best represents how a majority group chooses to recognize monuments and other ethnic groups. Polish resistance fighters argued that Warsaw’s architecture represented the Polish nation and needed to be rebuilt. As the city was being rebuilt after the war, many of Warsaw’s citizens chose to reconstruct the city according to how it looked before the war. This conscious decision to recreate the city the way it had been before the war became a statement memorializing the elements of Polish culture that had been established years prior. While the Poles, being the majority ethnic group within the new nation-state, elected to design the city to reflect their past cultural achievements, their view on the physical remains of minority groups living within the borders vastly differed. For example, the Jewish quarter in Warsaw was not rebuilt, representing the recurring issue of determining what is significant.37 While nationalism was driving politics in this period before the war, the quarter was also not rebuilt because of low levels of Jewish engagement following the war. From the dominant nationalistic viewpoint, the heritage of groups that could not be ancestrally traced to Poles or even Slavs was not relevant for fulfilling 37

Ibid.

the goals of the state. Although often portrayed negatively during the intense period of nationalist influence, minorities are represented in the archaeological record, showing how the material culture of minority groups was overlooked or misinterpreted to serve the dominant group. This recurring fear of other ethnic groups undermining the political legitimacy of Poland is part of the complex historical relationship between nationalism and archaeology that remains an issue in the field to this day. After many of the newly formed states in Eastern Europe tried to validate themselves through appeals to the distant past in the postwar era, the subsequent communist rule suppressed these attempts in nations like Poland. While many scholars such as Rączkowski have argued that archaeology stopped being a part of the process of creating national identity in the 1970s because of communism, the growth of right-wing nationalism in Poland today is reflective of the pattern that emerged during the Romantic period and the wars of the 20th century. The drive by nationalists in the 21st century to maintain a nation of ethnic Poles free from foreign influence shares direct ties with the goals of previous nationalist movements. Therefore, even though it may seem as though archaeology had become a more objective discipline that recognizes the value of all archaeological research, the political situation within Poland is reminiscent of

previous eras that used this field to serve their own nationalistic goals. Even today there is a general fear of Western interpretations, explanations, and fieldwork being conducted within the boundaries of the nation.38 There is also a tendency to focus on regional studies within Poland and a bias towards nationalistic narratives in archaeology.39 This shows nationalism’s long-standing effects on the discipline that grow in prominence as nationalist views in Poland remain uncontrolled. This is partly reinforced by a lack of access to English (the language most archaeological research is published in) publications in parts of Eastern Europe and, in some areas, more restricted access to recent literature.40 This makes it easier for nationalist influences to isolate archaeologists to the study of only their own presumed heritage. In addition, the academic sector has less control over the field because private commercial firms dominate the archaeological contract market.41 Political leaders in Poland today can use and manipulate the archaeological material to influence the cultural politics of the nation-state to fulfill their aims. Again, if this trend in archaeology continues, there will be future issues in education when falsified histories are treated as 38 Diachenko, “Archaeology and the Nation State. The Case of Eastern Europe,” 9. 39 Ibid. 40 Ibid., 8. 41 Arkadiusz Marciniak, Contemporary Polish Archaeology in Global Context (New York: Springer, 2011), 179-194.

fact, causing the next generation to hold the same prejudices that develop with extreme nationalism. Outside of education, archaeology will lose credibility as a discipline when the popularization of the false narratives among the public causes the field to be seen as a source of biased information. These are potential risks that will create a negative impact on the future of modern Poland if the legacy of past events continues to perpetuate nationalism in the archaeological record. While nationalism within the field of archaeology in modern Poland is not viewed as a developing problem, the pattern of negative effects resulting from this extremism has been seen multiple times throughout Polish history. In an attempt to validate the competency of ethnic Poles in governing their own nation-state, to recognize the material culture of other groups has prevailed. This has led to debates over the significance of monuments and identity of minority groups living alongside Poles. A vast change in the way the archaeological record is interpreted is necessary in Poland’s future if these nationalistic biases are to be avoided. Archaeology is valuable for gaining insight into the past, but this value is greatly diminished when the field is used to develop one-sided historical narratives that determine the public’s perceptions of history to enforce a nationalist viewpoint.

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Spring 2019

Kosovo’s Surge in Gender Equality Legislation:Pursuing EU Accession Sabrina Chen

Since declaring independence on February 17, 2008, Kosovo has experienced a surge in its legislative emphasis on gender equality, anti-discrimination laws, and measures to prevent violence against women and children. Despite the patriarchal gender norms entrenched in Kosovar culture and society, Kosovo has made significant legislative strides toward gender equality since 2008. Ranging from new legal provisions for gender equality to Constitutional amendments, these advancements have risen exponentially over recent years amid Kosovo’s ongoing pursuit of EU accession. Given the social norms and traditional gender stereotypes embedded in Kosovo society, what has catalyzed this legislative shift toward more gender-equal, anti-discriminatory

policies in Kosovo since its declaration of independence? In this paper, I will examine Kosovo’s recent surge in gender equality policies and analyze the social and institutional factors that have prompted this shift. By assessing the impact of European Accession requirements, I will argue that pressures to join the European Union have significantly contributed toward Kosovo’s increase in gender equality policies over the past decade. In particular, I will trace Kosovo’s recent strides in legislative amendments in antidiscrimination and gender equality to the Stabilisation and Association Process (SAP) of 2014 and demonstrate that its recent legislative changes have been driven by requirements for EU accession.

I will begin by giving brief introduction to Kosovo’s historym regarding its status in the Socialist Federated Republic of Yugoslavia and subsequent declaration of independence from Serbia. Then, I will consider the legislative changes in gender equality in Kosovo that have occurred since 2008, in conjunction with Kosovo’s path to EU accession. Rather than attribute these legislative changes toward shifts in public perceptions or the presence of other international institutions, I will argue that Kosovo’s national priority of EU accession has been the primary factor in advancing Kosovo’s focus on gender equality policies and recent changes in legislation. A Brief History of Kosovo Over the past two decades, Kosovo has made significant strides toward gender equality legislation and policy reforms, despite the entrenched cultural and societal norms surrounding gender that still pervade Kosovo today. Originating as a Serbian-dominated region in the 7th century, then occupied by the Ottoman Empire from the 14th to 19th century, Kosovo became a shared territory between Serbia and Montenegro during the First Balkan War in 1912–13. After its assimilation into the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes after World War I, it transitioned into a Serbian autonomous province within the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia after World War II.1 The following decades were wrought 1

Office of the Historian, Bureau of

with ethnic tension between the ethnic Albanians and Serbians in Kosovo, and climaxed during the 1980s, when the dictatorship of Slobodan Milosevic brought Kosovo under direct control of Serbia once more. During this period, Serbian police forces and security personnel subjected Kosovar Albanians to mass repression, especially in employment and education. This led to a period of rampant Albanian nationalism in the 1980s, followed by numerous insurgency and counterinsurgency campaigns between Albanians and Serbians in Kosovo, which climaxed in the displacement of over 800,000 ethnic Albanians in the year of 1998-99.2 Eventually, this culminated in a three-month NATO airstrike operation against Serbia to end the conflict, leading to the transitional administration of the UN Interim Administration Mission in Kosovo (UNMIK). Put in place by the UN Security Council Resolution 1244 in 1999, the UNMIK lasted until Kosovo’s declaration of independence in 2008.3 Only after Public Affairs United States Department of State. “A Guide to the United States’ History of Recognition, Diplomatic, and Consular Relations, by Country, since 1776: Kosovo.” U.S. Department of State. 2018. https:// history.state.gov/countries/kosovo. 2 Central Intelligence Agency. “The World Factbook: Kosovo.” Central Intelligence Agency. November 30, 2010. http://www.cia.gov/library/publications/theworld-factbook/geos/be.html. 3 Central Intelligence Agency. “The World Factbook: Kosovo.” Central Intelligence Agency. November 30, 2010. http://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-

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emerging from the interim administration of the UNMIK that had been put in place did Kosovo begin shifting its domestic priorities away from nationalist insurgency,and instead toward autonomy and integration into the Eurocentric, Western world. Given its status as a disputed territory, Kosovo faces significant pressure from its ethnically Albanian majority to achieve international recognition as a sovereign entity. Such recognition would not only strengthen Kosovo’s presence in diplomatic affairs, but also allow it to gain full independence from Serbia instead of being an autonomous province of such a culturally asymmetric country. As Serbia has rejected Kosovo’s independence since 2008, one of Kosovo’s top priorities today is to join the EU as a first step toward broader international recognition. Emerging out of centuries of ethnic conflict, Kosovo entered its current status as a multi-ethnic, parliamentary republic after the United Nations Peacekeeping Mission (UNMIK) ended its period of Supervised Independence in 2012 and shifted central rule to Kosovo’s parliamentary authorities. Thus, although Kosovo is currently recognized as a sovereign nation by 113 nations, it continues to seek EU integration in order to gain broader recognition from the international community and seek full independence from Serbia.4 In addition world-factbook/geos/be.html. 4. Ibid.

to gaining international credibility, EU accession would also expedite Kosovo socioeconomic development by giving it access to Western trading markets. Thus, EU accession is one of Kosovo’s foremost national priorities today, and consequently serves as a guiding force behind many of the country’s domestic policies and legislative changes today. As stated in the Treaty of the European Union, a country must satisfy two major conditions to be considered for EU membership: first, it must fulfill rigorous approval procedures which prove its compliance with all EU rules and standards, called the “EU acquis.”5 In particular, this refers to the “Copenhagen criteria” of accession as defined in 1993: including “stable institutions guaranteeing democracy, the rule of law, human rights and respect for and protection of minorities.” Second, it must obtain the consent of EU institutions, member states, and citizens through parliament or referendum.6 Further, as Kosovo is part of the Western Balkans, it must satisfy additional EU accession criteria that are specific to its region. This is known as the “Stabilization and Association Process” 5 European Commission. “Conditions for Membership.” December 06, 2016. https:// ec.europa.eu/neighbourhood-enlargement/ policy/conditions-membership_en. 6 European Commission. “Stabilisation and Association Process.” European Neighbourhood Policy And Enlargement Negotiations. December 06, 2016. europa.eu/neighbourhoodenlargement/policy/glossary/terms/sap_en.

(SAA), or additional requirements imposed on Western Balkan countries7 to become candidates for accession, including “promoting peace, stability, freedom and economic prosperity” and upholding “good neighbourly relations.” For Kosovo, this involves certain criteria such as EU-facilitated dialogues with Serbia, autonomous trade measures to stimulate economic growth, and the incorporation of gender equality into its national policies and legislation.8 When Kosovo began the Stabilization and Association Process in July 2014, this marked the beginning of its EU accession process, and inaugurated a series of rapid gender equality reforms. Based on the change in its legislative patterns before and after the SAA, the rise of gender equality policies after 2014 suggests a significant role of EU accession criteria in motivating these changes. National Legislation: Before and After the SAA At a September 2018 meeting of the EU-Kosovo Stabilization and Association Parliamentary Committee, Nataliya Apostolova, Head of the EU Office in Kosovo described EU accession as a primordial “path for Kosovo,” and urged government leaders to focus on SAA and EU accession requirements as “the driver”

7 Albania, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Croatia, Macedonia, Montenegro, Serbia, Kosovo. 8 Ibid.

for legislative changes (EEAS). Currently, Kosovo’s central legislation is comprised of its Constitution and 57 Strategic Documents, serving as guidelines for self-governance on behalf of the Office of the Prime Minister and 15 local Ministries. While Kosovo’s earliest national laws and strategies tended to focus on education, infrastructural development, and crime prevention (2007-2012), more recent legislation focuses on humanrights-based concerns such as combatting human trafficking (2015), protection from domestic violence (2016), and preservation of women’s property rights (2016). As these human rights-based laws primarily originated at a time when Kosovo began pursuing EU accession, this suggests that the SAA and the pressure to abide by EU accession requirements played a vital role in catalyzing gender-equitable reforms, rather than a shift in public perceptions on traditional gender roles. Prior to the SAA negotiations, Kosovo’s national laws primarily reflected its goals of building its infant economy and infrastructural development, with social provisions for human rights or equality remaining a lesser priority.10 9

9 In particular, Apostolova urged Kosovo leaders to mold their institutional and policy reform around the “European Reform Agenda” – a three-point agenda for EU accession requirements, based on rule of law; economic competitiveness; and employment and education, containing a focus on gender equality and human rights. 10 Kosovo. Assembly of Kosovo. Office of the Prime Minister of Kosovo. List of Valid

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Hence, the years 2008-2010 saw such legislation as action plans for forestry development, land consolidation, and preuniversity education. Later, with the onset of organized crime and border violence, the period of 2011-2013 saw national legislation on crime and terrorism enacted, as well as migration and reintegration strategies of repatriated persons and integrated border management. As Kosovo was still struggling to assert its newfound independence from Serbia, its priorities at this time were centered on de-escalating the interethnic tension and backlash among its minority communities – much less on challenging the traditional gender stereotypes entrenched in Kosovar society since pre-Yugoslavia.11 Only when Kosovo began its EU accession process in 2014 did its legislation begin to take a new direction. In 2014, when Kosovo and the EU initiated the Stabilisation and Association Agreement, this represented a landmark achievement in promoting Kosovo’s global engagement, by initiating its path to EU integration and enabling it to become a potential candidate for accession.12 Since the SAA serves as the first port of entry for Strategic Documents. 2018. 11 “Gender Equality and Inequality in Kosovo.” Gender (In)equality and Gender Politics in Southeastern Europe, 2015, 14768. doi:10.1057/9781137449924.0015. 12 European Commission. “Conditions for Membership.” https://ec.europa.eu/ neighbourhood-enlargement/policy/ conditions-membership_en.

Kosovo to join the EU, this inauguration of Kosovo’s accession process immediately catalyzed a shift in Kosovo’s national legislation to fulfill EU accession standards such as “respect for human dignity, freedom, democracy, equality [and] human rights.”13 Through a series of reforms that lasted through the SAA’s negotiation phase and into its implementation, Kosovo began to shift its legislation away from infrastructural development or domestic concerns of terrorism and crime prevention in 2014, and toward human rights-based goals such as gender equality. As little had changed in Kosovo’s domestic perception of gender roles by 2014, compared to the patriarchal values that had taken root since before Yugoslavia, the significant increase in gender equitable laws after 2014 further emphasizes the role of EU accession in Kosovo’s gender equality legislation. According to a report by Kosovo Women’s Network, gender-based violence is still prevalent in Kosovo today, with 68% of Kosovar women experiencing domestic violence in their lifetimes as of 2015, or over twice the global average.14 Further, sexual harassment and genderbased discrimination are still common in public and private life, with 30% of men 13 European Union. Treaty of Lisbon. Article 7. December 13, 2007. 14 National Coalition Against Domestic Violence. “NCADV Statistics.” The Nation’s Leading Grassroots Voice on Domestic Violence, National Coalition Against Domestic Violence. 2018. ncadv.org/statistics.

considering “being a man” to be a defining quality of leadership.15 As traditional gender norms and standards of male superiority still pervade the majority of the Kosovo public today, this suggests Kosovo’s recent surge in gender equality legislation is not derived from shifts in public perception. Rather, as these changes emerged after Kosovo began its path to European integration, this corroborates EU accession and the SAA as primary motivators of these legislative shifts. After the SAA was initiated in 2014, Kosovo entered a period of significant legislative reforms, despite the ongoing backdrop of gender norms entrenched in society. During the intermediary years of 2014-2016, from initial SAA negotiations to its official implementation, Kosovo held a comprehensive revision of its 2004 Law on Gender Equality to further align its policies with criteria for EU accession. Among its major changes, the revised law prohibited “indirect gender discrimination [of] women for reasons of pregnancy and maternity” and established the Agency for Gender Equality within the Office of the Prime Minister to ensure that workplace recruitment upholds equal representation of women and men – measures to satisfy gender equity criteria of the SAA.16

Further, by asserting its compliance with the International Convention on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women, as well as five Directives on Gender Equality by the European Commission (one of the deciding bodies regarding the status of EU accession candidates) this legislative revision reflects the early influence of EU accession requirements in shaping Kosovo’s national legislation.17 When the SAA formally entered force in April 2016, its official implementation further advanced gender equality legislation. Within the next few months, several national laws protecting women’s rights were drafted and implemented, each fulfilling gender equality requirements and human rights standards for EU accession. In particular, two national strategies emerged – one for protection from domestic violence, and the other to protect women’s property rights.18 As these key legislative developments occurred shortly after the SAA’s implementation, amid a domestic backdrop of traditional public mentalities regarding gender norms, this suggests that EU accession and its socioeconomic goals were major factors in motivating Kosovo’s surge in gender equality legislation since 2016.

15 UNDP Kosovo. UNDP Kosovo Gender Equality Strategy 2014 – 2017. UNDP Kosovo. UNDP Kosovo. 16 Kosovo. Assembly of Kosovo. Office of the Prime Minister of Kosovo. Law No. 05/L -020 On Gender Equality.” Law No. 05/L

-020 On Gender Equality. Articles 4, 5. 2015. 17 Ibid., Article 1. 18 Kosovo. Assembly of Kosovo. Office of the Prime Minister of Kosovo. List of Valid Strategic Documents. 2018.

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In early 2016, the Office of the Prime Minister released Kosovo’s National Development Strategy for 2016-2021 as a guiding document for the country’s social and economic development, which further corroborates the role of the SAA implementation in legislative changes. By proposing reforms that serve the broader picture of EU integration, the National Development Strategy (NDS) presents a four-pillared approach to accelerate socioeconomic development and EU accession from 2016-2021, using gender equality policies to attain economic goals put forth by “common axis” of the SAA. From its introduction, the document describes Kosovo’s main priority as to “orien[t] its development agenda towards European integration in all areas,” through gender-equitable reforms in the labour market, rule of law sector, infrastructure, and competitive market.19 In particular, NDS proposes to combat factors impeding socioeconomic well-being that are “synchronized” with necessary steps for Kosovo’s EU integration, through reforms in employment, education, and women’s property rights.20 While these gender equality policies may seem prompted by a shift in gender roles, the external stimulus of EU integration grows apparent when realizing that these gender equality policies are treated as instruments to achieve EUoriented economic growth, instead of arising out of a concern for human rights. 19 20

Ibid., 4. Ibid., 5.

For example, in proposing a reform for women’s property rights, the NDS’s rationale reflects economic motivation associated with EU accession requirements, rather than a human rightsbased incentive. As Kosovo currently faces significant property rights violations, specifically from men violating women’s inheritance rights, the NDS proposes a new gender equality law to ensure that women receive their inheritance as enshrined in the Kosovo Constitution. Rather than being stimulated by rights-based concerns, however, or a shifting public will for gender equality, the NDS states that this policy stems from the government’s economic desire to “increas[e] the potential for investments” through securing women’s inheritances, thereby “providing more opportunities to citizens to use property as collateral and access to funding,” rather than from a human rights-based motive of protecting women’s entitled rights.21 By arguing that Kosovo’s current property rights system “discourage[s] investment and limit[s] the citizens’ opportunities to get investment loans by leaving property as a collateral,” the NDS suggests that invasion of women’s property rights has the major effect of impeding businesses from using public funds to fulfill economic development agenda. Hence, rather than be driven by gender equality concerns, the incentive for increased women’s property rights is rooted in desires for economic development that align with EU 21

Ibid., 25.

accession requirements. This treats gender equality not as an end in itself, but rather a “pre-requisite to economic welfare of a country,” in order to advance Kosovo’s EU integration.22 As the NDS itself was directly designed to advance Kosovo’s EU accession requirements, this further reflects the deepseated role of EU accession in undergirding legislative changes after Kosovo’s declaration of independence. According to Kosovo’s Strategy for Improvement (2016-2018), the NDS itself was designed to fill a gap in the government’s planning and coordination processes, directly in response to combat the “technical state of core planning,” which was “falling short of the necessary standards … for EU integration” as of 2016.23 Thus, rather than emerge out of human-rights based concerns or shifts in the public perception regarding education and the labour market, the NDS was formed to assist Kosovo’s government in EU accession prospects: making the EU an underlying motivator behind gender-equitable policies in the NDS, which were designed to promote economic growth in the first place. Moreover, apart from these two pillars of human capital and property rights, gender equality policies are absent from the rest of the National Development Strategy, which further speaks to Kosovo’s prioritization of socioeconomic incentives that expedite its EU accession process, instead of gender 22 23

Ibid., 11. Ibid., 6.

equality as an end in itself. Although these development initiatives result in positive spillovers for Kosovo in terms of gender equality, the Office of the Ministry suggests that measures in the NDS were primarily taken in the interest of the European Reform Agenda, and “synchronized with priorities of economic and institutional reforms necessary for Kosovo’s integration into the European Union.” Thus, although certain measures may lead to gender equality benefits, the impetus for gender equality is largely based on EU integration incentives rather than the country’s change in mindset. As Kosovo’s recent surge in gender equality policies occurred amid a backdrop of traditional gender norms, this dynamic suggests that a shifting public perception was not the primary cause of legislative changes in recent years. Rather, the prioritization of European integration in Kosovo’s recent National Strategies and laws suggests that SAA criteria and Kosovo’s pressures to join the European Union are underlying stimuli for Kosovo’s recent gender equality reforms, even undergirding related institutional reforms in gender equality. A decade after declaring independence from Serbia, Kosovo continues to pursue widespread international recognition in order to secure the full effects of its declared autonomy. Through its legislation in gender equality, Kosovo has continued to advance along its path toward European integration, prioritizing EU accession as the first step to fully actualizing its sovereignty.

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Spring 2019

Lenin on Sale: Reinterpretations of Socialism in the USSR After World War II Emily Sandall

The history of the Soviet Union from World War II until its collapse in 1991 was marked by significant redefinitions of socialism by the policies of each of the USSR’s three major regimes: anti-Stalinism under Nikita Khrushchev, “developed socialism” under Leonid Brezhnev, and Perestroika under Mikhail Gorbachev. Examining the factors behind these redefinitions, however, elucidates why such rapid change was both culturally and politically justifiable; and moreover, close study of the nature of each regime’s version of socialism reveals the fallacy in conceiving of each one simply as a “redefinition.” Khrushchev, Brezhnev, and Gorbachev’s philosophies were not created in isolation but rather were reactionary to one another and to contemporaneous cultural and geopolitical factors. Most

importantly, each philosophical iteration did not alter the foundational content of socialism – only its manifestation in Soviet society. The constant reinterpretation of socialism in the second half of the twentieth century, therefore, does not indicate socialism’s lack of efficacy but its extreme flexibility as a guiding ideology: without rewriting Marxism-Leninism, Soviet leaders were able to adapt socialism to a wide range of conditions, and by extrapolation socialism would be feasible in most any socioeconomic environment. If any event in Soviet history approached a true “redefinition” of socialism, it would be Khrushchev’s denunciation of Stalin during his speech to the Twentieth Congress of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union (CPSU) in 1956,

but even this shift was framed with language maintaining the ideological consistency of socialism. For instance, on multiple occasions during his speech, Khrushchev impugned Stalin for deviating from ‘true’ Marxism-Leninism, citing “an entirely different relationship with people,” and an ignorance of “the norms of party life and… the Leninist principle of collective Party leadership.” He further emphasized Stalin’s mismanagement of socialism by affirming that his regime would seek to “[correct] the widely spread erroneous views connected with the cult of the individual” and “[restore] completely the Leninist principles of Soviet socialist democracy.”1Clearly, Khrushchev did not see the issues the USSR faced under Stalin as faults with socialism itself, but rather problems off what he saw as Stalin’s misinterpretation. Instead, he saw task of “building communism” as simply needing to be steered back in the right direction. It is crucial to realize that Khrushchev never accused Stalin of redefining socialism – Stalin had simply abused and misunderstood it. However, even Stalin’s interpretation of socialism had its place and time: World War II. Stalin’s infamously ruthless and dictatorial regime can be viewed as a reaction to the years of food shortage and subsequent war that had occurred on Soviet soil. Indeed the historical question of Stalin’s personal efficacy is undermined by the immense

amount of faith most Soviet citizens people placed in him during the war. Wartime was likely the only environment where a culture of hero-worship and material deprivation could thrive. After the war was over, however, such a political culture became unsustainable, and issues relating to economic status rose in importance. The Soviet government recognized this, and even before Stalin’s death, the state had begun to address the Soviet Union’s material problems, particularly the living standards of its citizens. Under Khrushchev this effort expanded with mass housing construction and a new cultural emphasis on interior decoration, a notable contrast from the spartan aesthetics of the early socialist movement. Yet this deviation did not necessarily represent an ideological departure from socialism itself. For instance, some observers, such as historian Susan Reid, have argued that domesticity became integrated into expressions of socialist integrity as “a site for self-projection and aesthetic production.”2 Comfort no longer was seen as a concession to capitalism, in contrast to how it was viewed under Stalin. Earlier understandings of socialism in the early 1920s had left room for human comfort within the political sphere, and Khrushchev’s positive attitude towards creature comforts in the 1959 “Kitchen Debate” with Nixon only reaffirmed (at least rhetorically) Nikolay Chernyshevsky’s idea

1 Nikita Khrushchev, “Speech to the th 20 Congress of the CPSU” (speech, Sub Archive of Soviet Government Documents, 1956), 1-58.

2. Susan Reid, “Communist Comfort: Socialist Modernism and the Making of Cozy Homes in the Khrushchev Era,” Gender & History 21, no. 3 (November 2009): 465-498.

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that socialism and material comfort could exist hand in hand. The concept of “developed socialism” promulgated under Khrushchev’s successor Leonid Brezhnev was a logical economic successor to socialist comfort. Brezhnev himself defined the conditions of developed socialism as “the constant growth of the whole national economy, the combination of scientific and technological revolution with the advantages of the socialist organization of society,” and “a perceptible swing of the economy towards ever fuller satisfaction of… diverse material and cultural requirements.”3 This materialistic vision of socialism may also be conceived of as part of a larger state drive to remain culturally and economically abreast of the capitalist West. Just as the Kitchen Debate had pitted Soviet and Western technology against each other, the invasion of Western culture challenged the state to find viable socialist alternatives: for example, in an attempt to counteract the growing influence of “bourgeois” rock music from western Europe, the state created its own pop bands, called Vocal-Instrument Ensembles, to produce rock music that was Western in aesthetic but socialist in theme.4 3 Leonid Brezhnev, ”A Historic Stage on the Road to Communism,” 17 Moments in Soviet History, 15 May 2018, http:// soviethistory.msu.edu/1980-2/our-littlefather/our-little-father-texts/brezhnev-onthe-theory-of-developed-socialism/ 4 Choi Chatterjee et al., Russia’s Long Twentieth Century: Voices, Memories, Contested Perspectives (New York: Routledge, 2016): 207.

Despite the dramatic economic and cultural shifts that took place under its aegis, the policy of developed socialism remained entirely grounded in the ideology of Marxism-Leninism. Brezhnev believed that the Soviet Union had finally fully completed the apparatus of socialism, paving the way for the ultimate withering of the state, which Brezhnev saw as the fulfillment of a progression described in foundational Communist theory, writing: “Already at the dawn of Soviet power, Lenin spoke of ‘accomplished,’ ‘full’ and ‘developed’ socialism as the perspective, the goal of socialist construction that had been launched.” Brezhnev further cited economic development, obliteration of labor distinctions, and mass political consciousness to conclude that “developed socialism has now been built in the USSR.”5 The truth of his assertions is virtually impossible to verify (indeed, it is debatable whether Marx’s original vision of socialism was ever fully manifested in the Soviet Union). Nevertheless, they illustrate Brezhnev’s continued faith in the same definition of socialism that had motivated every prior regime. What Brezhnev praised as the completion of socialist construction, Mikhail Gorbachev denounced as “social corrosion.” By the end of his tenure, Brezhnev’s clumsy 5 Leonid Brezhnev, ”A Historic Stage on the Road to Communism,” 17 Moments in Soviet History, 15 May 2018, http:// soviethistory.msu.edu/1980-2/our-littlefather/our-little-father-texts/brezhnev-onthe-theory-of-developed-socialism/

attempts at creating a cult of personality as a return to Stalinist corruption, and as such his platform of Perestroika hinged on returning political power to the people. In a 1987 speech, Gorbachev described Perestroika as “reliance on the creative endeavor of the masses, an all-round extension of democracy and socialist selfgovernment” and stressed that “Perestroika itself is possible only through democracy and because of democracy.”7 By restoring the ascendancy of the masses, Gorbachev also hoped to reinvigorate popular investment in revolutionary politics. Soviet culture in the 1970s and 1980s suffered from a blight of apathy in comparison with pre-war decades, and thus the cultural manifestation of Perestroika was an effort to re-engage people with the socialist project. As the continued increase in Communist Party membership attests, this attempt was largely successful, and a wealth of records in the form of letters and editorials illustrates a renewed effort by Soviet citizens to place their lives within revolutionary context.8 6

6 Choi Chatterjee et al., Russia’s Long Twentieth Century: Voices, Memories, Contested Perspectives (New York: Routledge, 2016): 197. 7 Mikhail Gorbachev, “On Socialist Democracy,” in 1989: Democratic Revolutions at the Cold War’s End; A Brief History with Documents, ed. Padraic Kenney (Boston: St. Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2010), 5154. 8 “Letters on Politics,” in Dear Comrade Editor: Readers’ Letters to the Soviet Press Under Perestroika, ed. Jim Riordan and Sue Bridger (Bloomington: Indiana

Perestroika and its accompanying policy of glasnost, appear at their core to be genuine attempts at restoring the vision of socialism that had existed under inaugural Soviet leader Vladimir Lenin. Before his death, Lenin had envisioned moving the Soviet Union towards true dictatorship of the proletariat, with complete political transparency and total popular engagement. Although Gorbachev did not see his own vision of Perestroika accomplished due to the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, his unfulfilled rhetoric revealed a deep commitment to Leninism. Gorbachev referred to the “democratic forms inherent in socialism” as justification for his intended reforms and advocated for a higher tolerance towards political discourse on the basis that “such an attitude to criticism has nothing in common with our principles and ethics.”9 While Gorbachev’s adherence to the trend of economic privatization stood out as strikingly anti-Leninist, he was by no means the first to experiment with capitalist elements – Brezhnev and Khrushchev had introduced germinal commercial elements decades prior – but he did manage to justify that privatization within the context of turning over power from the state to the individual. The visions of socialism spread by Khrushchev, Brezhnev, and Gorbachev (and University Press, 1992), 16-40. 9 Mikhail Gorbachev, “On Socialist Democracy,” in 1989: Democratic Revolutions at the Cold War’s End; A Brief History with Documents, ed. Padraic Kenney (Boston: St. Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2010), 51-54.

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arguably Stalin) were heavily informed by the sociopolitical conditions in which they emerged as well as the established legacies of their predecessors. More importantly, those conditions only changed the form that socialism took, not its fundamental content. Although some interpretations of socialism were not as true as others to what is commonly perceived as “Leninism,” they were all grounded (or thought themselves to be grounded) in the original philosophy of the Bolshevik Revolution, and therefore socialism as a guiding ideology was – and continues to be – anything but limited in efficacy. The ability of different leaders to fit socialism to the needs of their respective eras does not diminish its value, but rather proves its flexibility. Since it can be adapted to such a wide range of political environments without abandoning its foundational philosophy, socialism holds virtually endless potential.

LITERARY CRITICISM Spring 2018 2019 Spring

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An Analysis of Women and Their Role in the Works of Maxim Gorky, Yevgeny Zamyatin, and Mikhail Bulgakov Mattingly Gerasimovich

Introduction and Women in Soviet Society The establishment of the Soviet Union resulted in a period of great social and political uncertainty. Anxious to throw off the influence of the old regime, social relationships radically changed throughout the early 1920s to reflect the new communist ideology. The high rate of change was in part a result of ambitious Bolshevik reforms targeted at what party members viewed as sources of inequality. Amongst those sources of inequality was the treatment of women in Russian society. At a speech delivered at the Fourth Moscow City Conference of Non-Party Working Women in September 1919, Soviet Premier Vladimir Lenin said, “the building of socialism will begin only when we have achieved the complete equality of women and undertake the new work

together with women who have been emancipated from that petty, stultifying, unproductive work.”1 The Bolsheviks believed that the poor treatment of women in other countries and in tsarist Russia should be corrected immediately under a political system that theoretically rejected exploitation of labor and inequality. The writers in pre-Soviet and early Soviet era of literature of Russian were heavily influenced by the ideals of the political philosophy of the time. Many of these writers were involved in the Bolshevik revolutionary movement, and while some would later become disillusioned with the system, they 1 V.I. Lenin, “The Tasks of the Working Women’s Movement in the Soviet Republic,” in On the Emancipation of Women (New York: International Publishers, 1966), 69.

generally believed in the core tenets of gender equality that made up its philosophy. This belief is evident in the ways that these writers portray women and their roles throughout the literary works of the early Soviet era. For instance, Maxim Gorky, Yevgeny Zamyatin, and Mikhail Bulgakov all portrayed women as knowledgeable and independent figures in their works. These writers essentially spoke out against what they viewed as the unjust treatment of women, and challenged many of the preexisting norms about women through their writing. Women and their Role in Maxim Gorky’s Works Perhaps no other early Soviet writer could claim the level of prestige in their lifetime as Maxim Gorky, who Soviet critics often considered the founder of Soviet and proletarian literature.2 He was particularly popular with the working class in Russia, who were growing disillusioned with the current capitalist system. His popularity in this revolutionary period was due to the themes in his stories. They made it so he, “emerged as the champion of the underdog; his stories were seen as a protest against the existing social and economic order and as a revolt of the individual rising to defend his rights.”3 Many of his works, particularly his earlier ones, reflect 2 Vyacheslav Zavalishin, Early Soviet Writers (New York: Frederick A. Praeger Publishers, 1958), 61. 3 Tovah Yedlin, Maxim Gorky: A Political Biography (Westport: Praeger Publishers, 1999), 26.

the societal oppression that women face in Russian society, and Gorky portrays women as strong characters who have the ability to transcend this oppression. Maxim Gorky’s short story, “Twenty-Six Men and a Girl,” is perhaps his best example of a female character transcending societal oppression. In this story, Gorky depicts a group of pretzel makers that are worn down by long hours and poor working conditions. The only thing they look forward to is seeing the 16-year-old maid-servant named Tanya, who works in the gold-embroiderer’s shop on the second story of the house. The men’s favorite part of the day is the few minutes that Tanya comes down to get free krendely, or sweet pretzels and sushki, or crunchy tiny bagels, to eat.4 Her role, as seen by the narrator, is to bring the men joy and to help lift their spirits during the workday. While it may appear that she is participating in a patriarchal dynamic, it is important to note that Tanya goes down to visit the workers simply because she wants to. There is no evidence to suggest that Tanya does this out of any feeling of obligation to the men making the krendely and sushki, but rather comes downstairs because she enjoys the snacks. Tanya has the ability to leave the basement whenever she pleases, and always ignores the advice that the men give her when she goes to visit, frequently 4 Maxim Gorky, “Twenty-Six Men and a Girl,” in The Collected Short Stories of Maxim Gorky, ed. Avram Yarmolinsky and Baroness Moura Budberg (Secaucus: Citadel Press, 1988), 174-191.

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not dignifying them with a response, and referring to them as “little prisoners.”5 In this instance, she is portrayed as a comparatively free and independent character in the story. The men, however, are unable to leave the basement during work hours because they need to continue making krendely and sushki. As a result of her position in the social hierarchy of the story, the men begin to idolize Tanya. The narrator recounts how, “we took on ourselves in turns the duty of providing her with hot pretzels, and this became for us like a daily sacrifice to our idol, it became almost a sacred rite, and every day it bound us more closely to her.”6 The role of Tanya begins to morph from a girl who works for the goldembroiderer to one who has the ability to relax them during a grueling work day in poor conditions. As this begins to happen, the men reveal their preconceived notions about how they believe an ideal woman in society should behave. For instance, their idolization of Tanya rests almost entirely on the men believing in her sexual purity. When a former soldier who works making rolls in the other bakery comes to talk to the pretzel makers, they tell him about Tanya. As his pride rests on his ability to seduce women, he makes it his goal to seduce Tanya. The men don’t believe that it is possible for Tanya to be seduced due to their unrealistic expectations and veneration of her. When she does 5 6

Ibid. Ibid, 179.

ultimately sleep with the soldier, the pretzel workers berate her and verbally abuse her. Tanya, however, does not stand for this, as the narrator says, “walking out of our circle without turning round, she added loudly, with pride and indescribable contempt: ‘Ah, you scum – brutes.’ And – was gone, erect, beautiful, proud.”7 There is a clear dissonance in this scene between how the works want Tanya to act and what she actually does. It is important to note that although Tanya is idolized by these men, she is a very particular case. The narrator recalls that, “generally we spoke about women in such a way that sometimes it was loathsome to us ourselves to hear our rude, shameless talk.”8 The men idolize Tanya because of the circumstances of their work, in which they have relatively little contact with other people, especially other women. It is extremely significant that although the narrator perceives Tanya as the exclusive deity figure of the pretzel workers, she acts as an individual throughout the story and is under no obligation to the men to behave any certain way. Her decision to walk away from the verbal assault from the men at the end of the story represents not only an act of individual freedom, but also a continuation of her very much individualistic character that is present throughout the story. She is shown as a character that is able to transcend the oppressive expectations that men in 7 8

Ibid, 191. Ibid, 178.

Russian society at the time placed upon women. Women and their Role in Yevgeny Zamyatin’s Works Yevgeny Zamyatin wrote his most famous piece of literature, the science fiction novel We, in 1921. In the novel, Zamyatin details a totalitarian state that controls nearly every aspect of its citizens’ lives to systematically and mechanically produce happiness. This work is one of the first dystopian novels in world literature, and was one of the first major works of fiction to be censored by the newly established Soviet government.9 While the Soviets censored this work for its anticommunist sentiment, the roles of women in the text in some ways reflect the changes that Lenin theorized would come about in a classless society. The novel does not fully depict a classless society, as those who do not serve in the government experience very similar, standardized oppression. As a whole, this work differs from Maxim Gorky’s work because of the source of the oppression. In Gorky’s works, the societal structure oppressed the women, whereas in Zamyatin’s We, the state is the oppressive force. Zamyatin’s We is centered around the relationship between the government of the One State and the citizens that it governs. The state controls everything that the citizens do through the use of a

timetable known as “The Table of Hours.” The novel is told in diary format from the perspective of the main character, D-503, who is a builder on the spaceship known as the Integral. D-503’s scientifically-oriented mind initially works very with the One State’s mechanical approach to life. His thinking is only challenged when he meets a woman named I-330, who consistently opposes the practices of the One State throughout the course of the novel. This type of thinking is extremely new to D-503, and he remarks after his first conversation with I-330 that, “the effect of that woman on me was as unpleasant as a displaced irrational number that has accidentally crept into an equation.”11 At this point in the novel, D-503 is still firmly planted in his way of thinking, and even uses mechanical and mathematical language to describe how his interactions with I-330 make him feel. Throughout the novel, I-330 acts as a catalyst for a change throughout the entire society, and helps to alter D-503’s thinking. I-330 is shown as a natural leader and, as a result, gets unwavering loyalty from her followers, including unlikely characters such as D-503. His exposure to illegal pleasures introduced to him by I-330 acts as a catalyst for his new way of thinking and questioning of the world around him. For instance, I-330 introduces D-503 to drinking liquor and smoking. The One

9 Julia Vaing, “Human Machines and the Pains of Penmanship in Yevgeny Zamyatin’s We,” Cultural Critique 80 (2012): 108.

10 Yevgeny Zamyatin, We (New York: Random House, 2006), 12. 11 Ibid, 10.

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State has outlawed both of these practices, but I-330 is able to take advantage of the early stages of D-503’s inner-battle between freedom and oppression to entice him to drink. These experiences with I-330 have a revolutionary effect on D-503, further contributing to his internal struggle. After drinking with I-330, he says , “what if suddenly the fine crust of the earth under our feet became glass, and suddenly we could see… I became glass. I saw into myself, inside.”12 This night with I-330 results in a transcendental experience for D-503. At this point, he has fully relinquished power to I-330. The power that she has over D-503 is very complex. On the surface level, D-503 is attracted to I-330, and certainly feels sexual desire for her throughout the novel. On a deeper level, I-330 acts as someone who can challenge D-503 intellectually and emotionally. By framing her critiques in the mathematical language that D-503 is comfortable with, I-330 is able to challenge the underlying assumptions of his worldview. Because of her effective and persuasive arguments, D-503 views her as a mentor that can help guide him through his emotional and intellectual changes. I-330 is able to use the combination of sexual and psychological factors to keep D-503 coming back and doing favors for her, ultimately using him to help carry out her attempted revolution against the state. I-330 has a large effect on D-503 individually, but her effect on the society 12

Ibid, 50

as a whole is arguably more significant. I-330 is consistently portrayed as someone who challenges the conventional way of thinking in the One State. Through her underground organization known as MEPHI, I-330 organizes thousands of citizens in the One State to vote against their ruler, the Benefactor, in elections that had always been unanimous. Her public defiance plays into her theory that, “there isn’t a final [revolution]. Revolutions are infinite. Final things are for children because infinity scares children…”13 I-330 is a truly revolutionary character, shown as incredibly capable and determined to lead another revolution. She challenges the One State’s logic that the revolution that put it in power was the final one, and does not accept the status quo as acceptable. Zamyatin portrays I-330 as someone who is intelligent enough to think critically about the One State’s dogma, and as someone who is able to effectively take action to enact change. The true power of I-330 is revealed with the ending of the novel. After D-503 is forced into getting a lobotomy to make him once again subservient to the state, he turns I-330 and her accomplices in to the state. All of them confess to the Benefactor after being subjected to various methods of torture, but D-503 recalls that, unlike the others, “they dragged [I-330] out, quickly brought her back to her senses with the help of electrodes, and then put her back under the Bell 13

Ibid, 153.

Jar. They repeated this three times and she still didn’t say a word”14 In the last chapter of the novel, I-330’s strength is shown not only to be her intellect, but also her physical strength. She is shown to be exceptionally strong, outlasting all of the other men and women through the torture under the Bell Jar, even though she knows that the One State will kill her and all of her accomplices regardless. In comparison to Gorky’s portrayal of women, Zamyatin shows women in roles that are much more powerful. This is primarily because Zamyatin’s novel is not rooted in any specific time period, but rather shows a time in the future. In contrast, the roles of women in Gorky’s works often reflected their frustrations with the discrimination of the pre-Soviet time period. Both of these writers personally believed in the goals of equality that the new communist system (while not necessarily supporting the resulting state structure), and that is reflected in their work. The difference is that the women in Zamyatin’s work have more of an opportunity to pursue these opportunities because they live in a society where gender is not a criterion for discrimination. Women and their Role in Mikhail Bulgakov’s Works Mikhail Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita depicts supernatural occurrences grounded in a strikingly realistic depiction of Moscow in the 1920s. The devil himself appears in Moscow with an entourage of characters determined to challenge the 14

Ibid, 203.

dogma-driven thinking of the members of the Soviet system, as well as those who seek to benefit through greed and selfishness. Throughout the course of the novel, the only character that is shown to possess the selflessness that the devil values is Margarita, a woman in her early 20s that is trapped in an unhappy marriage. Upon her encounter with the devil, he sees her devotion to the man she truly loves, referred to as the Master. Her beloved has gone missing and her loyalty to him matters more than any material possessions or societal expectations. Her strength and determination earn the respect of the devil. Throughout The Master and Margarita, women are frequently used as a test for the dichotomy between selfishness and selflessness. The devil, who takes a form of a foreign professor named Woland, and his entourage show up in Moscow to test the authenticity of the new Soviet system which boasts the selflessness and unity of its citizens. One of the clearest examples of the devil testing whether the system had actually changed the citizens is when Woland and his accomplices put on a black magic show at the Variety Theatre in Moscow. He tempts the women in the crowd by magically making appear displays of free women’s clothing. The stage became full of “hundreds of ladies’ hats, with feathers and without feathers, and – with buckles or without – hundreds of shoes, black, white, yellow, leather, satin, suede, with straps, with stones.”15 When 15 Mikhail Bulgakov, The Master and Margarita (New York: Random House, 2016),

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the women rush on stage to take as many of the items as they could, the reader sees the materialism that still plagues Soviet society, despite all its so-called reforms and ideals. Woland’s performance shows that even though the Soviet rhetoric claims that its citizens are happy living modestly and “equally,” this hypocrisy still prevails. This particular scene is very much in line with Bulgakov’s overall worldview that Soviet society still possessed many individualistic aspects that according to official ideology and rhetoric it should not. While the black magic performance seeks to scold the hypocrites in the crowd of the show, Bulgakov does not believe that every woman, or that every person in Soviet society is selfish. The character who best exemplifies a selfless nature and ability to transcend traditional societal values is Margarita. She renounces the materialism that having a rich husband brought her, choosing happiness over her possessions.16 She yearns for a relationship with the Master even after he is taken away to an asylum after his writing career had been ruined and a neighbor falsely reports him to the police. Margarita helps the devil host a ball with the spirits of dead murderers and criminals as guests, hoping that the devil would eventually return the favor and help her see the Master again. Throughout the night, Woland and his entourage continuously test Margarita to see if she really is as pure and selfless as 125. 16

Ibid, 215-216.

she seems. To further prove that she is not selfish, Margarita refuses to ask the devil for what she truly desires even after he gives her permission several times to do so.17 The ability to resist her inner selfish temptations shows that Margarita is one of the few pure people in the society. Although the events in the novel happen within the Soviet system, Bulgakov does not seem to imply that Margarita’s selflessness has anything to do with the system itself, but rather is something that she is born with. The Master and Margarita satirically criticizes the Soviet Union for continuing to uphold many of the same and values that were present in prerevolutionary Russia. For instance, while Bulgakov is most likely not dismissing the validity of the institution of marriage, he certainly is criticizing the practice of marrying someone for economic benefit. While the reader is not given all of the details behind Margarita’s first marriage, Bulgakov’s narrative shows that he does not believe that status alone can make someone happy. He could be implying that there is something more to happiness that cannot always be explained, and that the culture in the Soviet Union’s rigid philosophy did not make room for exploration of personal happiness. The overall message throughout the novel is that the Soviet system did not change the traditional and individualistic values it sought to get rid of, but rather veiled these values under a new doctrine. 17

Ibid, 261-275.

Conclusion and Final Comparisons Each of these three writers takes a different approach to writing about the roles of women in their works, but ultimately agrees with the goal of equality for women. In each of the works discussed previously, female characters are shown to be strong enough to overcome various obstacles in order to change things about her current situation that benefit either herself or her community. In Gorky’s “Twenty-Six Men and a Girl,” Tanya is able to throw off the oppressive social standards projected onto her by the men working in the pretzel shop and experience sexual freedom, and to continue living her life without making her decisions in accordance with what the men around her believe is best for her. In Zamyatin’s We, I-330 builds an underground resistance movement to challenge the existing state structure that oppresses not only her, but all of the citizens living in that society. In Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita, Margarita earns a wish from the devil through her selflessness in order to secure her eternal life with her true love. Rather than accepting the continuity of oppression, each of these women makes some sort of sacrifice in order to improve their position in society. These women are therefore shown to be the bringers of change, either in society, or on a more individual level. All of these writers align with the thinking in Lenin’s writings about the liberation of women to some degree. Gorky and Zamyatin both agree that

women face some sort of barriers in their current position, and that it should be changed. The difference between these writers is that in Gorky’s early works, he believed that this oppression came from the economic system, while Zamyatin viewed the totalitarian state structure as the mechanism of oppression. In this sense, the early works of Gorky are most in line with Lenin’s thinking than both Zamyatin and Bulgakov. While Zamyatin personally believed in the socialist goals of equality, his disagreements with Lenin arose over how to achieve them, but not necessarily their philosophical underpinnings. In contrast to these two writers, Bulgakov’s portrayal of women in his works in much more in line with pre-revolutionary thinking. While he does believe that women can have an innate propensity for selflessness and other natural traits, he does not believe that socialism in the Soviet system has the ability to produce those traits in people. The willingness of these authors to engage in a critical examination of Soviet political philosophy through their literature shows an intelligentsia committed to change. While the authors may not each agree with all the tenets of Bolshevik ideology or the outcome of its implementation, their portrayal of women in their works marks a clear shift towards more progressive and free representation in Soviet literature.

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The Burning Question: Looking for Answers in Moscow’s Great Fire Liya Wizevich

On September 15, 1812, Napoleon and his Grand Army entered an all but abandoned Moscow. He found no representatives waiting to welcome him to the great Russian metropolis, and quite the opposite as nearly everyone had fled in the preceding month. What Napoleon found was a hollow shell of a spiritual and cultural capital, with only a few thousand of the 275,000 original inhabitants remaining. Those who did were either too destitute to leave, clinically insane or recently incarcerated. Along with this shock, Napoleon received news that a devastating fire had broken out: “The catastrophe actually started as many small fires, which promptly grew out of control

and formed a massive blaze.”1 From the Kremlin, where he had established himself, Napoleon surveyed the disaster unfolding before him and his army. This paper examines three accounts of the burning of Moscow: Philippe-Paul de Ségur’s Defeat, Leo Tolstoy’s War and Peace, and Dominic Lieven’s Russia against Napoleon. The three versions vary in significant details, including the assignment of blame for who caused the fire, the possible motivation for the setting of the fire, and the perceptions of both the Russians and the French (including the Grand Army). Despite these variations, with certain accounts blaming Russia in general, others blaming the

1 “Napoleon’s Invasion of Russia 1812.” Napoleon, His Army and Enemies.

French in general, all seem to agree that Rostopchin, Moscow’s governor, played a significant role. The paper will explore the literary treatment of the Russians, Napoleon’s army and the city of Moscow as a setting in the three works, and specifically look at how one man, Governor Rostopchin, bridged all three works as a figure of suspicion and blame. The contrast of the three accounts underscores the confusion, chaos and miscommunication at the time of the fire, leading to markedly different explanations and portrayals in literature and historical accounts. Moscow: the Russian cultural capital, abandoned but occupied The Russian General Kutuzov decided to abandon Moscow in the interests of a longer term strategy in the campaign against Napoleon. The city was evacuated by the thousands. Lieven, a professor of Russian history at the University of Cambridge, in the first western account of Napoleon’s invasion of Russia told from the Russian perspective, explains this arduous decision by Kutuzov: “there remained the difficult task of getting the exhausted and somewhat demoralized army with all its baggage and some of its wounded through the streets of the great city. With the enemy on their heels this could be an extremely dangerous enterprise. Matters were not helped by the fact that the news that Moscow was to be abandoned had broken on the civilian population very late. As the army passed through Moscow on 14 September a mass

civilian exodus was still under way.” The scene was one of confusion and fear. The last minute decision to evacuate left was heavily controversial, as if they were simply surrendering their great capital to the enemy. Despite the anguish of the Russians, the Grand Army saw it differently. Ségur, a French general and a historian, wrote his book as a memoir and first hand account of life in Napoleon’s Grand Army. He spoke of Moscow in somehow exotic terms, an illustrious foreign prize, the final crowning jewel on Napoleon’s European empire: “here was Asia with its religion, at first victorious, than vanquished, and after that the crescent of Mohammad, with the cross of Christ triumphant over all.”3 He noted the Asiatic features with excitement, and looked disdainfully upon the city’s inhabitants, “the great battle had been lost and people were already starting to abandon their capital”4 Expecting a warm welcome, Napoleon instead encountered a derelict, abandoned city, the opposite of a warm welcome of the long extinct Boyar elite expected by Napoleon, and the beginning of further troubles. Napoleon marched into the city determined still to make Moscow his own, and “with regard to supplies for the army, Napoleon decreed 2

2 Dominic Lieven, Russia against Napoleon: The True Story of the Campaigns of War and Peace (New York: Viking, 2010), p. 211. 3 Philippe-Paul de Ségur, Defeat: Napoleon’s Russian Campaign. (New York: NYRB, 2008) p. 89. 4 de Ségur, Defeat: Napoleon’s Russian Campaign p. 91.

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that all the troops in turn should enter Moscow à la maraude to obtain provisions for themselves, so that the army might have its future provided for.”5 And he set up his own camp in the Kremlin, the seat of centuries of Russian tsars, while the Russians retreated out and the air was heavy with disappointment on every side, but it soon also became heavy with smoke. The Russians: Masterminds or Victims? Across the three accounts the Russians are represented quite differently; in Ségur, they are the masterminds behind the great fire and their objective was to throw this blame onto Napoleon for their own national interests. Ségur looks at Rostopchin, the governor of Moscow as the one true culprit, a cause to be developed on his own, a separate entity from Russia or France . Says Ségur of Rostopchin, “Governor Rostopchin… was supervising the manufacture of an immense quantity of explosives and combustibles, but Moscow herself was to be a great infernal machine who’s sudden explosion that by night would destroy the Emperor and his army”6 Despite Ségur’s belief that the orders came from high up in Russian command, most likely Rostopchin, Ségur admitted some questions still shrouding the monarch of Russia: “The silence of Alexander leaves some doubt to whether he approved this momentous decision or not. The part he played in this catastrophe is still a mystery to the Russians, who either do 5 6

Ibid., p. 102. Ibid., p. 103.

not know or do not say- the consequence of despotism, which enjoins ignorance or silence.”7 Ségur criticizes the monarchy, an institution that was swept out France in the French Revolution. Ségur writes that Rostopchin and his lackeys stirred up trouble such as encouraging the destitute (who could not leave the city, and some of whom Rostopchin had recently released from prison) to do the work for him: “The prisons were opened, and a dirty, disgusting mob poured out. These miserable creatures rushed into the streets with ferocious joy”8 with his ultimate goal in mind for destroying Moscow. Ségur fans the flames, so to say, of the rumors that Rostopchin was the architect of the great fire, “That night therefore secret agents went about knocking at every door, giving notice of the conflagration. Bombs were slipped into every available opening.”9 He further emphasized his theory, stating, “Russian policemen had been seen stirring up the blaze with tarred lances. Treacherously placed bombs had been placed in several stoves of the houses, wounded soldiers crowding round them for warmth”10 thereby absolving the French of blame, painting them as the miserable victims of a hostile city. Rostopchin didn’t only involve his police; he decided to open the prisons, and as the prisoners flooded out of their jails, “these wretched creatures drunk with wine and the success 7 8 9 10

Ibid., p. 93. Ibid., p. 95. Ibid., p. 95. Ibid., p. 107.

of their crimes, no longer attempted to conceal themselves, but raced in triumph through the blazing streets.”11 Blaming the destitute and indefensible could be a reasonable observation, but Ségur ignored the possibility that in these scenes of chaos anyone, including a rogue from his own army could be at fault as well. Nevertheless, hee had good reasoning for Rostopchin’s guilt saying, “it would only be too easy to lay the blame for the holocaust on Napoleon’s army, as the enemy had done when they burned their own cities; and the horror of so great a disaster would arouse all Russia”.12 He says here that the reason Rostopchin burned his own city wsas to get a monumental reaction from the Russians against the French in hopes of inciting more anger and action against the Grand Army from all levels of Russian society. Ségur depicts the suspicion of the French army, camped out in a strange city:“A grave suspicion took possession of all of our minds, that the Muscovites, aware of our carelessness and negligence contrived the burning of Moscow with our soldiers besotted with fatigue and sleep.”13 And as the rumors spread, so did the hatred for the Russians for leaving the French embarrassed and alone, against the traditional rules of war in which they should have been welcomed in as glorious victors. Lieven tries to mediate between

the Russians and the Grand Army blame and give a truthful historical account of the fire. Though he too fixates on Rostopchin as a possible antagonist, he admits, “what caused the fire has always been a source of dispute. The one certain point is that neither Alexander nor Napoleon ordered the city to be burned. Rostopchin said before the city’s fall that the French would only conquer its ashes. He evacuated 2,000 men of Moscow’s fire brigade and all its equipment.”14 Lieven believes that Rostopchin was aggressive enough to see his city finished at the hands of Russians and not allow it to fall to the French. While fixing blame on Rostopchin, he simultaneously absolves regular Russians, even including the view of Russian soldiers, trying to prove these men had no part in any such burning. The soldiers he recounts felt heartbroken to see their city was engulfed in flames: “A staff officer wrote that the sight of Moscow on fire, though initially contributing to the gloom, soon transformed it into anger: ‘in the place of despondency came courage and a thirst for revenge: at that time on one doubted that the French had deliberately set fire to it.’”15 Lieven treats the Russians in a gentler manner, showing the humanity of the army, though he hints at the ulterior motives of their governor. The French: Arsonists, Careless Occupiers or Innocents?

11 12 13

14 213. 15

Ibid.,p. 59. Ibid., p. 91. Ibid., p. 106.

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Lieven, Russia against Napoleon, p. Ibid., p. 235.

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Lieven’s account of the anonymous and innocent soldier illustrates that not all accounts lay the culpability with the Russians. Indeed, the Russians themselves could see no other possible explanation then their enemy coming in and destroying their ancient cultural capital, for they themselves as individuals found no reason to burn their home. A record from the diary of a second anonymous soldier recounts the incident with equal part horror and wonder: “The earth’s burning, the sky’s on fire, we’re drowning in a sea of flame.”16 Although the nationalistic Russians blamed Napoleon, it is possible that these orders did not come from the French emperor directly. Such orders may have never been given at all by the French command, but the fact remains that there were thousands of deliriously tired and hungry soldiers turned loose in an empty city, warming themselves in abandoned homes and empty barns. Tolstoy explains in War and Peace the inevitability of a fire breaking out in such circumstances: “In peacetime it is only necessary to billet troops in the villages of any district and the number of fires in that district immediately increases. How much then must the probability of fire be increased in an abandoned, wooden town where foreign troops are quartered. ‘Le patriotisme féroce de Rostopchíne’ and the barbarity of the

16 Alexander Martin, Enlightened Metropolis: Constructing Imperial Moscow, 1762-1855 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), p. 19

French were not to blame in the matter. Moscow was set on fire by the soldiers’ pipes, kitchens, and campfires, and by the carelessness of enemy soldiers occupying houses they did not own. Even if there was any arson (which is very doubtful, for no one had any reason to burn the houses—in any case a troublesome and dangerous thing to do), arson cannot be regarded as the cause, for the same thing would have happened without any incendiarism.”17 Tolstoy in his accounts does not directly blame Napoleon (or any other figure in command for that matter), instead he portraying him as a somewhat hapless fool that can not control his marauding army: “Napoleon had passed the Arbat more than four hours previously on his way from the Dorogomilov suburb to the Kremlin, and was now sitting in a very gloomy frame of mind in a royal study in the Kremlin, giving detailed and exact orders as to measures to be taken immediately to extinguish the fire, to prevent looting, and to reassure the inhabitants.”18 While Tolstoy himself doesn’t make his own thoughts clear about who burned moscow, he writes the French as blaming the Russians in his novel, “‘That will teach them to start fires,’ said one of the Frenchmen.”19 The French embrace this 17 Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace, trans. Louise and Aylmer Maude, rev. Amy Mandelker (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010), p. 963. 18 Tolstoy, War and Peace, p. 938. 19 Ibid., p. 971.

role of policing the fire, desperate to find a culprit. In Dialogue’s with Dostoevsky’s chapter “The Ethics of Vision,” it says, “Pierre, alone in Moscow after the battle of Borodino is arrested by the French as an incendiary. Fearing for his life, he conceals background and precipitates a crisis of identity.”20 In a dramatic scene where Pierre is almost executed but suddenly spared after being arrested on suspicion of lighting fires, we learn that the French are actively seeking the causes of the fire and ruthlessly rounding up these destitute remaining in Moscow. Napoleon is so convinced the Grand Army had no fault that he even expresses this to the Russian Emperor Alexander: “With regard to diplomatic questions, Napoleon summoned Captain Yakovlev, who had been robbed and was in rags and did not know how to get out of Moscow, minutely explained to him his whole policy and his magnanimity, and having written a letter to the Emperor Alexander in which he considered it his duty to inform his Friend and Brother that Rostopchin had managed affairs badly in Moscow, he dispatched Yakovlev to Petersburg.”21 Napoleon appeals to his enemy, referred to as a “friend and brother” now in an attempt to quell the rumors of Napoleonic guilt. Tolstoy then writes that “Having similarly explained his views and his magnanimity to Tutolmin, he 20 Robert Jackson, Dialogues of Dostoevsky: The Overwhelming Questions (Stanford: Stanford University Press,1993) p. 59. 21 Tolstoy, War and Peace, p. 1013.

dispatched that old man also to Petersburg to negotiate. With regard to legal matters, immediately after the fires he gave orders to find and execute the incendiaries. And the scoundrel Rostopchin was punished by an order to burn down his houses”22 further linking Rostopchin to the fire. Between the two extremes of Segur and Tolstoy, Lieven writes, “Although French carelessness and plundering undoubtedly may have contributed to the city’s destruction, it was undoubtedly the Russians who were most responsible for what happened. What mattered at the time however was the perception that Napoleon was to blame and that the city’s destruction was a huge sacrifice to Russian patriotism and Europe’s liberation”23, though he admits, some definite intention of Napoleon that had previously been unseen, nearly a month after the 9-day fire, “On 19 October (Napoleon) left the city with his army’s main body, leaving a substantial rear guard behind to complete the evacuation and blow up the Kremlin.”24 Lieven agrees that the Russians suspected Napoleon, though no direct blame can be traced back to him of the fire; he likewise echoes Tolstoy’s belief that the fire was begun because Moscow was empty and because the simple mention of the Grand Army wandering these streets were desperate. Rostopchin cuts through the varying rumors to be a chief suspect among all the authors. 22 23 p.255. 24

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Tolstoy, War and Peace, p. 949. Lieven, Russia against Napoleon, Ibid.,, p. 256.

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Rostopchin: Arsonist, negligent leader, or history’s scapegoat? In all accounts, Rostopchin is portrayed very negatively. In the book Romantics, Reformers, Reactionaries, the author Alexander M. Martin writes “Rostopchin never wavered in his belief that the French must be defeated, and was willing to go to great personal lengths to achieve this, especially if it kept him in the limelight. His role in the great fire that destroyed much of Moscow remains in dispute, but he did, in a typical and theatrical gesture, set fire to his own estate at Voronovo, leaving behind only a defiant message. This scorched-earth patriotism did not fail to impress the French.”25 This ruthless burning of his own estate undoubtedly contributed to the suspicions cast his direction. His attitude was ruthlessly cutthroat, hoping to achieve his goal by any means necessary understanding not only the necessary nationalism for his own people but the ideals of the Napoleonic army at the same time, “Rostopchin’s actions reflected a ruthless pragmatism. He hoped to preserve the social order by redirecting popular aggression onto the French… he grasped one important consequences of the French Revolution; total war, waged with every weapon and on every front.”.26 In Lieven, 25 Alexander Martin, Romantics, Reformers, Reactionaries: Russian Conservative Thought and Politics in the Reign of Alexander I (Dekalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 1997) p. 130. 26 Martin, Romantics, Reformers,

he is said to be narrow minded and driven to the aim of destroying what he cannot save, “The governor did not desire any treaty. He foresaw this populous capital, which Russians themselves considered the oracle, the mouthpiece of the empire, Napoleon would have to recourse the to the weapon of revolution, the only one remaining to him, to complete his victory. For that reason he decided to erect a barrier of fire between this great capital and all weaknesses whatever they might be.”27 Tolstoy says the French attributed the Fire of Moscow “au patriotisme féroce de Rostopchíne,” and while he himself does not affix blame in this way, he still portrays Rostopchin as an unlikeable, ruthless and irrational man. In one terrible scene Rostopchin callously sacrifices a political prisoner to a mob of angry people to divert blame on the crumbling of Moscow from himself in his typical egocentricity, “‘This is what they have done with Russia! This is what they have done with me!’ thought he, full of an irrepressible fury that welled up within him against the someone to whom what was happening might be attributed. As often happens with passionate people, he was mastered by anger but was still seeking an object on which to vent it. ‘Here is that mob, the dregs of the people,’he thought as he gazed at the crowd: ‘this rabble they have

Reactionaries, p. 131 27 Lieven, Russia against Napoleon, p. 93.

roused by their folly! They want a victim,’ he thought as he looked at the tall lad flourishing his arm. And this thought occurred to him just because he himself desired a victim, something on which to vent his rage…. ‘I have killed two birds with one stone: to appease the mob I gave them a victim and at the same time punished a miscreant.’”28 As Rostopchin is shown diverting the blame in such a ruthless way upon an undeserving young man, Tolstoy hints at the volatile and callous personality of this potential arsonist. Finally, The translator of Ségur’s work, J. David Townsend, added a clause, “It is quite possible that Ségur had firsthand information, his nephew having married Rostopchin’s daughter.”29 Possibly due to this connection, Ségur’, as explained by his translator, firmly places the blame on Rostopchin. In the end, over 200 years later, there can be no conclusive answer about who, if anyone, ordered that first fire to be lit, and we are left wondering, who knew the situation best- a question possibly left in the archives of time. However, from looking at the accounts of what happened on those nine days in late September of 1812 we find that through the slandering, the blaming and the fear, the name of the governor of Moscow, Rostopchin, comes to the forefront across the narratives. Though the evidence is ultimately inconclusive that

28 Tolstoy, War and Peace, p. 25. 29 de Ségur, Defeat: Napoleon’s Russian Campaign p. 105.

he gave the orders, his uncontested actions did not help his cause. He made threats before the abandonment regarding his refusal to let the French have the city, and in an act of defiance even burned down his own estate. He was responsible for opening up the prisons that let the criminals out on the streets and he left his city for ruin as he rode away in his carriage. This is not to say, of course that it was just him; his police enforcers and his newly released criminals may have done the dirty work for him. It is also possible French soldiers, wittingly or not, started the fire in this abandoned/ occupied city; they were an unsupervised army swarming about, emboldened by Napoleon’s assent that they could forage, loot and destroy. They made fires to warm themselves wherever they could in the emptiness of the streets and homes, and for these starving preoccupied exhausted men it is not inconceivable that some of these campfires spread through the uncoordinated efforts of all the destitute on all sides from soldiers to inhabitants both of the Grand Army and of Moscow. Despite the variation in the literature on the burning of Moscow, the three accounts do with varying valence encourage the possibility that the governor Rostopchin was ultimately responsible, creating distrust amongst the Russian at towards the French who they see as using them as a scapegoat for their own crimes, and amongst the French who realizes there is a tenacity from the Russian’s they had not counted on as they entered the abandoned capital.

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Silent Witnesses: The Role of Materials in Late Imperial-Era Russian Crime Fiction Grace Docherty

This study will offer a close focus on the material agent’s role in collections held by detectives within particular literary criminal investigations. The texts considered in this work are “Grob s dvoinym dnom” (1908) by R. L. Antropov (1876-1913) as well as A. E. Zarin’s (1862-1929) “Poterya chesti” (1909). While the role of materials has been previously examined in other national traditions of the crime fiction genre, the Russian tradition offers works not previously studied in this manner. The texts featured here are largely undiscussed within the field but offer new insights into not only the Russian tradition of crime fiction but also the literary detective’s interaction with the material world around him. This essay is an extract from a larger work.

Late Imperial-era Russian crime fiction (1860-1917) arose after the judicial reforms of Alexander II, beginning in the early 1860s, favoring post-Enlightenment ideas such as empirical truth and objectivity. These reforms resulted in the creation of the judicial investigator position, similar to the Western police detective, and led to the Russian tradition of the genre.1 Within crime fiction, the literary detective’s authority is derived from society’s belief that he employs a particular method and possesses a special ability, above that of the regular police force, to remain objective in order to discover the truth within criminal cases. Through methods of observation, he is able to determine what is significant in a 1

Whitehead, The Poetics, p. 4

particular case and possesses the authority to label what will be considered evidence. A key part of his method includes the use of technologies in order to deduce the truth. The use of instruments has been discussed within the crime fiction genre especially in the Anglo-American examples of Doyle and Poe. For instance, Thomas focuses on the ways in which the AngloAmerican literary detective secures authority “through the scientific devices…with which he discovers the truth and establishes his expertise.” 2 These instruments “extended the power of the human senses to render visible and measurable what had previously been undetectable.”3 Similarly, Sweeney notes that “Poe’s rudimentary investigating protagonists and brilliant detective heroes must rely on various techniques, devices, or mechanical air to enhance their eyesight.” 4 She describes the use of various optical technologies such as a pair of green spectacles or a telescope, which allow the detective to “detect, some distance away, a human skull that would be invisible under other circumstances.” 5 Both Sweeney and Thomas crucially point out that, without these various technologies, the literary detective would otherwise not be able to locate clues throughout their investigation and, eventually solve, the case. These instruments are therefore significant in the detective’s process of criminal investigation. However, instead of simply 2 3 4 5

Thomas, Detective Fiction, p. 1 Ibid, p. 6 Sweeney, The Magnifying Glass, p. 3 Ibid, p. 4

highlighting the importance of the use of materials in crime fiction, as do Thomas and Sweeney, my aim here is to explore authority in the genre “beyond the life-matter binary” 6 from a New Materialist perspective. Latour argues that “any thing that does modify a state of affairs by making a difference is an actor—or…an actant.” 7 Therefore, physical materials can be viewed as actants rather than simply passive instruments. Jones and Boivin claim that if we accept the concept of agency then we must accept the concept of material agency, arguing that “one cannot be treated as self-evident, while the other is treated as absurd or bizarre. Such a position simply re-enacts the distinction between animate human subjects that exercise agency and inert material objects that are acted upon.”8 New Materialism questions what is treated as self-evident and offers “new thoughts about how inanimate objects constitute human subjects, how they move them, how they threaten them, how they facilitate or threaten their relation to other subjects.”9 In other words, bodies are affecting and being affected by other bodies; people and things are intertwined10 This is what Bennett calls an assemblage, that there is “not so much a doer (an agent) behind the deed…as a doing and an effecting by a human-nonhuman assemblage.”11 She Bennett, Vibrant Matter, p. 20 Latour, Reassembling the Social, p. 71 Jones and Boivin, The Malice of Objects, p. 342 9 Brown, Thing Theory, p. 7 10 Bennett, Vibrant Matter, p. 22 11 Ibid., 28

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6 7 8

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describes agency as distributed along a continuum, that an actant never acts alone but that “agency always depends on the collaboration, cooperation, or interactive interference of many bodies and forces.”12 Understanding action outside of a singular agent recognises the agency of other types of forces. In Latour’s explanation of Actor Network Theory, he views materials as participants in the course of collective action. He writes that “by collective we don’t mean an action carried over by homogeneous social forces, but, on the contrary, an action that collects different types of forces woven together.”13 However, this does not mean that these participants determine the action but rather “might authorise, allow, afford, encourage, permit, suggest, influence, block, render possible, forbid, and so on.”14 If action is an interaction of various forces and materials, then in the solving of a crime, the material engages in this action in concert with the detective. These theoretical assumptions will underpin the exploration conducted here of the role of materials in late Imperialera Russian crime fiction. The “material” can be understood to signify any physical matter, living and nonliving, human and nonhuman, for we are also material. Within the boundaries of this particular work, reference to “the material” refers to what might have been previously referred to as “object.” However, the term “material” 12 13 14

Ibid, p. 21 Latour, Reassembling, p. 74-5 Ibid, p. 71-72

is given preference here due to the connotation that “objects” are passive rather than active. These materials of a crime scene can be considered as both witnesses of and participants in a crime. In addition, the materials involved in a criminal investigation are engaged in the process of solving of a crime with the detective. Therefore, authority can be attributed to both the detective and the material through an interaction, signifying an action in concert with the material rather than through its use, which suggests its passivity. Therefore, the detective does not use materials to gain authority for himself, but rather, authority is mutually constituted. Conventional criticisms of crime fiction operate under the assumption that the detective is positioned at the top of a hierarchy, whereas this study will examine how the detective is not necessarily the ultimate authority, but rather that materials are equally important arbiters of authority. Collections In The Comfort of Things, Miller discusses an anthropological study of homes in London, focusing on how they are decorated, what was kept and displayed, and their significance to the collector. He writes, “these things are not a random collection. They have been gradually accumulated as an expression of that person or household. Surely if we can learn to listen to these things we have access to an authentic other voice.”15 Similarly, Gould 15

Miller, The Comfort of Things, p. 2

writes that the science of classification is “truly a mirror of our thoughts, its changes through time [are] the best guide to the history of human perceptions.”16 Therefore, in detective fiction, collections of items can be considered as expressions of significance to the detective. Cardinal and Elsner state that classification precedes collection, that there must be a taxonomy before something can be identified as collectable.17 This means that with a collection, there must also be a method of classification, signifying the application of a positivist science by the literary detective when collecting. This section will focus on examples of collections held by a detective within Zarin’s “Poterya Chesty” and Antropov’s “Grob s dvoinym dnom.” These collections are defined by the collecting and sorting of various crimerelated materials by the detective. While these separate collections are different in their contents and presentation within the texts, both use the methods of categorization and relate to specific fields of scientific study. Due to the scientific nature of these collections, they can be seen as a physical manifestation of detective authority which is mutually constituted by the detective and the materials within the collection. Zarin’s “Poterya chesti” begins with a visitor, Kolichev, entering detective Patmosov’s office. The interior layout is described in great detail, listing furniture positioned around the room, including 16

Purcell and Gould, Illuminations, p.

14 17 Elsner and Cardinal, Cultures of Collecting, p. 1

“по углам два высоких, узких дубовых шкафа, которые Патмосов звал своим «архивом»” (there were two tall, narrow oak cabinets in the corners that Patmosov called his “archives.)18 Of all the furniture listed here, from chairs to tables and their styles, these cabinets are uniquely described beyond their physical appearance, denoting a relationship with the detective. By possessing the name “archive,” these cabinets are not just tall, oak pieces of furniture, but significantly take on a role of holding knowledge for the detective. The reader assumes that within these cabinets there are materials such as documents, case files, or other detective records, which are deemed valuable and are organized to some degree, warranting the distinction of archive. His office is further described: “все четыре стены комнаты были увешаны портретами негодяев и преступников, пойманных и обличенных им, спасенных им жертв, благодарных клиентов и снимками картин преступлений. Патмосов с любовью сортировал их, и на каждой стене развешаны были фотографии своей категории” (Portraits of scoundrels and criminals he had caught and convicted, victims he had saved, grateful clients, and pictures of crime scenes covered all four walls. Patmosov lovingly sorted through them on each wall were pictures in their respective categories.) (Zarin, 394). Patmosov’s photographs are not 18

Zarin, Poterya chesti, p. 394, all future references will be included in parentheses.

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simply filed away with other case-related materials, but they have been sorted through and separated based on a taxonomy of criminal, crime scene, victim, and patron. Patmosov finds these photographs valuable enough to keep once a crime has been solved and has even classified them “with love.” This intimacy between the detective and his accumulated evidence can be linked back to Miller’s concept of personal expressions through collecting. However, this intimacy can also be seen as interfering with objectivity and professionalism, making this interaction more pseudo-scientific than strictly positivist. This is highlighted in the use of inverted commas around “archives” suggesting that while the collection emulates a scientific method, it is not totally legitimate. However, the photographic display certainly shows the existence of a taxonomy as well as the significance of its application. Though the inside of the archival cabinets are not described in much detail, its inner filing system is unknown, it is significant that the detective chooses to store certain materials unseen within the archives while displaying others. This photographic collection on display represents the physical manifestation of detective expertise. When Kolichev enters Patmosov’s office, he immediately “рассматривал фотографии, висящие над диваном,” (examined the photographs hanging above the bed) before even shaking his hand. Here, a client’s attention is struck more by the collection than by the detective himself. The two shake hands and exchange pleasantries but again the visitor’s attention is drawn

back to the photographs: Колычев опустился в кресло и еще раз взглянул на стену. —Однако у вас коллекция!—сказал он. —И чисто ангельские и исполненные благородства лица — и тут же бритые головы и зверские физиономии. Скажите, это все преступники? Патмосов улыбнулся. —Много обличенные и схваченные. Здесь много интересного для физиономиста! (Kolichev sank into a chair and looked again at the wall. — I must say, you have quite a collection!— he said. — And such angelic faces, so full of nobility and then you have shaved heads and savage faces. Tell me, are these all criminals? Patmosov smiled. —Many that are convicted and captured. There’s a lot here that may be interesting to a physiognomist!) (Zarin, 394) Kolichev seems to understand that this collection is not merely a display of cases solved, but that it has a scientific purpose even before Patmosov mentions physiognomy. The discussion of scientific study coincides with that of the photographs as well as their impressive quality. Here the collection and the collector gain authority from their scientific and positivist activity. The authority of scientific endeavours is conveyed in Kolichev’s impression and interest. The collection reflects the skill and dedication of the detective in categorising

the materials, while the materials themselves are the subject of value and authority. Patmosov’s choice to display photographs rather than other mediums of knowledge is significant due to photography’s status as a young science in Russia at the time. Therefore, this reflects Patmosov as being both modern and scientific. By using the medium of photography, it is suggested that Patmosov possesses the authority to capture and suspend reality in a positivist pursuit of truth. In displaying these photographs, he keeps the criminals always visible, himself in a position of authority as the observer. Foucault writes that someone suspended under observation “is seen, but he does not see; he is the object of information, never a subject in communication.”19 The photograph, in this case, is the mechanism which captures so that Patmosov can observe the subjects. They work in unison to suspend and render visible the subjects and the information they hold. Subjects within the photographs will remain in “permanent visibility,”20 granting power to the observer. Later in the story, Patmosov encounters difficulty in his investigation and turns to his collections for help: Он заперся у себя в кабинете и отдался любимому своему занятию: пересмотру архива и составлению записок. Сколько интересных дел! Какая находчивость! 19 200 20

Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. Ibid, p. 201

Какая смелость и сообразительность! (He locked himself in his office and surrendered himself completely to his favorite occupation: reviewing the archives and compiling notes. So many interesting cases! What resourcefulness! How resourceful! What courage, what cleverness!) (423-424). Reviewing cases he has solved, Patmosov gains inspiration from his past work and from the archives themselves. The act of sorting through materials and revisiting their contents is essential to the detective’s creativity and confidence. His archives contain his past successes and remind him of his abilities as well as his authority as a detective; therefore, Patmosov interacts with the material in this scene in order to better understand the current case. This shows the value these documents have and that the study of past criminal documents and evidence is crucial to the solving of future crime. Patmosov finds greater truth value in reading images compared to “bookish” information; however the practice of pouring through encyclopaedic knowledge remains. Patmosov can be seen as moving into a new era where new forms of information have value. He views these archives as the key to knowledge, on the basis of which he can deduce truth. In Antropov’s “Grob s dvoinym dnom” detective Putilin and Dr. Z, his assistant, are attempting to catch Dombrovsky, an elusive and skilled thief. Their plan involves luring Dombrovsky to a replica of the coffin used in his latest crime, which is stored in what Dr. Z calls

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the “detective museum” within Putilin’s offices. They place an ad suggesting that he accidentally forgot one of his stolen gems inside the coffin, enticing him to visit the office in order to recover it. The collection of materials within this “museum” allows the pair to catch Dombrovsky and solve the case. Materials are a central focus within these scenes and exhibit their significance to detection as well as their interaction with the human characters. Readers are introduced to this room by Dr. Z, who claims: тот, кто никогда не бывал в «сыскных музеях», не может себе представить, какое это мрачное и, вместе с тем, замечательно интересное место! Мрачное потому, что все здесь напоминает, вернее, кричит о крови, ужасах преступлений, самых чудовищных; интересное потому, что тут вы наглядно знакомитесь со всевозможными орудиями преступлений. (anyone who has never been to the “detective museums” cannot imagine what a gloomy and, at the same time, wonderful and interesting place it is! It’s gloomy, because everything here brings to mind, or rather, screams about the blood, the horror of the most monstrous crimes, But it’s interesting because here you are closely acquainted with every imaginable instruments of crime.)21 Museums represent a locus of authoritative 21

Antropov, Grob s dvoinym dnom, p. 46, all future references will be included in brackets.

knowledge within society, therefore, labelling this room as such compares it to institutions which collect on the basis of a taxonomy and then categorise in order to claim a particular knowledge of the world. This collection of criminal materials is suggested to be scientific in following a similar method. Dr. Z describes these materials in more detail: Какая страшная коллекция криминально -уголовных «документов». Чего тут только нет! Начиная от простой «фомки» и кончая самыми замысловатыми инструментами, на некоторых из них зловеще виднеются темно-бурые, почти черные, пятна старой запекшейся крови. Ножи, револьверы, кинжалы, топоры, веревки, мертвые петли, «ошейники», пузырьки с сильнейшими ядами, шприцы, с помощью которых негодяи травили свои жертвы, маски, фонари с потайным светом. О, всего, что тут находилось, немыслимо перечислить! (What a terrible collection of criminal “documents.” What can’t you find here! Starting from a simple “crowbar” and ending with the most intricate tools. On some of them dark-brown, almost black, spots of old dried blood are ominously visible. Knives, revolvers, daggers, axes, ropes, loops, “collars,” vials with the strongest poisons, syringes, with which the scoundrels poisoned their victims, masks, lamps with a secret light. Oh, it’s impossible to list all that was here!) (46) Dr. Z does not explain precisely how the

instruments are sorted but still suggests a taxonomy of some kind. There is a differentiation between large instruments and intricate ones, some covered in varying amounts of blood. His long list resembles a catalogue, beginning with conventional criminal weapons and eventually growing more obscure. This is a similar phenomenon to Patmosov’s scientific collecting and categorizing; however, Putilin’s collection is presented in a sensationalist manner by Dr. Z. The collection, therefore, is not only scientific, but evokes a sense of horror and mystery conveyed by Dr. Z’s emotive language. Though Patmosov’s collection is also described with emotion, he possesses a more personal love towards the more scientific and cold medium of photography. Patmosov’s display is impressive to his visitor due to scientific interest, whereas Putilin’s collection appears to have the kind of gory shock value of a house of horrors, both chilling and titillating. The sensationalism surrounding these instruments detracts from the objective, scientific method of categorization, making the collection almost pseudo-scientific. This is reflected in Dr. Z’s use of inverted commas when labelling the room as a “detective museum” which contain “criminal “documents,” implying the collection’s unofficial and quasi-scientific nature. However, it still possesses scientific value, exhibited by Dombrovsky, who, in order to gain access to this museum, poses as “Профессор Етторе Люизано: Член Римской Академии Наук, занимающий кафедру судебной медицины Рим”

(Professor Ettore Luisano: a member of the Roman Academy of Sciences, serving as the chair of Forensic Medicine in Rome). He visits Putilin’s office under this disguise “с просьбой осмотреть, научных целей ради, [их] криминальный музей” (with a request to examine [their] criminal museum for scientific purposes) (48). Though he is not an actual professional, the fact that this disguise would allow him confident access into Putilin’s museum shows that collections such as this have scientific value and would be of interest to an actual forensics professor. His choice to emulate an Italian professor specifically perhaps links to Cesare Lombroso (1835-1909), Italian professor of Forensic Medicine, founder of the Italian School of Positivist Criminology, and himself a collector of criminal anthropologic artefacts. This reference to Italian criminology further signifies the scientific value of the collection through Dombrovsky’s disguise. Similar to Kolichev in “Poterya Chesty” both Dr. Z and Dombrovsky remark on the impressiveness of the museum. Upon entering, the “professor” remarks, “о, какая прелесть у вас тут!…Какая блестящая коллекция!” (Oh, it’s so lovely here!...What a brilliant collection!) (49). Acting as a forensics professor would, Dombrovsky reacts to the collection, signifying its authority and value within scientific study. Dr. Z is simultaneously horrified and fascinated by the instruments, but there is an overall sense of awe towards them. The instruments “напоминают, вернее, кричат о крови, ужасах преступлений,

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самых чудовищных,” (bring to mind, or rather, scream about the blood, the horror of the most monstrous crimes,) using active verbs rather than passive, suggesting that they have experienced the crimes they were involved in and are retelling their experience. In addition, one is able “наглядно знакомитесь со всевозможными орудиями преступлений” (closely acquainted with every imaginable instruments of crime.), further portraying these materials as actively interacting with their environment. One does not just observe the instruments, but rather directly engages and becomes familiar with them. There is a kind of intimacy between Dr. Z and these devices which he expresses, stating “в сотый раз я осматривал знакомые мне до мелочей страшные орудия «музей»” (for the hundredth time I examined in detail the frightening instruments of the “museum” so familiar to me) (48). This notion of repetitive, affectionate interaction is similar to Patmosov’s loving categorisation and revisitation of archives. Though it is not made clear whether Putilin acts alone in his collecting, given Dr. Z’s frequent visitation to the museum and familiarity with its contents, readers can assume he plays some role in it. For Dr. Z, being inside this room is haunting and intimate, overall suggesting an interaction taking place rather than a one way acting upon. His regular use of emotive descriptions as well as its relation to institutions of science conveys the significance of these instruments. Collection and categorisation in these texts imply the application of a method

and thus a level of scientific authority. Putilin’s and Patmosov’s collections preserve documents and instruments from past cases for their own private reference and as an expression of their expertise. These instruments are also shown as having value to the detective and wider society due to the scientific authority they possess. Both texts directly reference areas of scientific study, physiognomy, and forensic science, in relation to the collections. This shows that they have scientific value and their collective body can be studied in order to gain further knowledge in the area of criminology and detection. Physiognomy and forensic science specifically focus on material evidence as representing truth in a physical form. Therefore, within both texts, scientific authority possessed by the detective is centred around the material, which also has authority. These texts suggest a kind of intimacy and interaction between humans and collections, which creates a relationship of value. Returning to Bennett’s idea of assemblages, the collection is an assemblage which expresses the mutual authority of human and non-human actors. The detective and the material are involved in the making of a collection, which then conveys the expertise of the detective as well as the significance of the material. In conclusion, within the works covered in this project, materials play an equally important role in constituting authority in a criminal investigation, an assertion which strives to completely deconstruct the assumption that the detective as a human actor is the highest

authority within the narrative. This study serves as merely a brief introduction, leaving many areas unexplored in terms of the relationship between human and nonhuman actors within late-Imperial Russian crime fiction. In order for this project to reach its full potential, a wider range of works from this period and the materials they cover must be examined. A more substantial project may even incorporate the significance of space in which materials are positioned and how this relates to authority. This will no doubt have an impact on the way authority is considered within the Russian tradition of crime fiction as well as the crime fiction genre more broadly.

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Kuznetskstroi. Sotsialisticheskii gigant Grace Docherty

If children can be interested in firetrucks and spaceships, why not metallurgical plants? While state policy within the Soviet Union did establish an accepted standard of art and literature through the Union of Soviet Writers, to equate government oversight with the absence of any artistic endeavor of value could not be further from the reality of Soviet art or children’s literature. The presence of overt messages in Soviet children’s literature does not negate that of rich aesthetics. Illustrations within Gurevich and Igumnov’s Kuznetskstroi. Sotsialisticheskii gigant,1 1

Gurevich, M. and A. Igumnov, Kuznetskstroi. (all page numbers correspond with the database’s page numbers), (all future references will be included in brackets.)

prove that creativity, ideology, and artistic value not only coexist but are also mutually enriching. Kuznetskstroi. Sotsialisticheskii gigant, published in Moscow in 1932, explores the socialist worker’s community of Kuznetsk, centered around a metallurgical plant. The Kuznetsk Basin was one of the main producers of coal for the Soviet Union, supporting various areas of industry. Its industrial capabilities were highlighted in support of the first Five Year Plan. The book begins by introducing children to Kuznetskstroi, “стройка металлургического завода-гиганта, который будет одним из крупнейших заводов во всем мире” (the construction site of a giant metallurgical plant, which will be one of the largest in the world; 1). The use

of the future tense budet in the context of the construction site focuses on the plant’s potential rather than its unfinished status, for example “в цехе будут установлены блюминг,” (in the plant, a blooming mill will be installed) and “рельсо-балочный стан будет выпускать ежегодно рельсов на 8-9 тысяч километров пути”2 (the rail-beam mill will annually produce 8-9 kilometers of rails; 1). This expectation of achievements also directs the reader’s imagination toward the future. In order to shape the future generation, there is a particular focus on defining ideal Soviet identity in which the creation of enemies and heroes is a crucial part. Throughout the book, the workers are heroes and the religious are their enemies. Soviet potential is presented as at-risk because “попы и сектантские проповедники яростно выступают против строительства социализма и против свободного, коммунистического труда. На борьбу против...пьяных религиозных праздников выступают ударные безбожные бригады рабочих и колхозников” (priests and sectarian preachers fiercely oppose the construction of socialism and free, communist labor. Atheist brigades of shock workers and farmers act in the fight against drunken religious holidays; 7). Religion and the festival culture associated with it are denounced as luring the labor force away from work and therefore threatening the success of the Five Year Plan. Fortunately, 2

emphasis added.

the future is secured “благодаря героизму комсомольского коллектива рабочих и инженеров...активно борются против религии, мешающей строительству социализма” (thanks to the heroism of the Komsomol team of workers and engineers... actively fighting against religion, which prevents the construction of socialism; 9). This anti-religious sentiment recurs throughout Kuznetskstroi as the greatness of Soviet industry is promoted through the symbol of the metallurgical plant while religion is condemned as a threat to that greatness. Therefore, the heroes of the Soviet future are shock workers and the “pionery i shkol’niki” (pioneers and schoolchildren) who help them (7). These heroes are role models for children to aspire to be in the future and mimic in the present. Soviet heroes exist in the industrial space, where readers were intended to direct their imaginations. A Soviet socialist ideology is clearly present within this book, labeling heroes and enemies within the context of securing a defined economic goal of industrialization. However, the message within Kuznetskstroi does not impede the existence of artistic illustrations, but rather directs the focus that its illustrations take. The text within the book, though important, is visually dominated on every page by illustrations of the Kuznetsk metallurgical plant. On the first page, text and illustration overlap, leaving the words lost within a sea of streaky pink foreground. The construction site is placed above the text, meaning the foreground is somewhat unnecessary to the integrity of the focal

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point. The red industrial frame would still stand out to the reader and show what the construction looked like without extending the illustrated space to the edges of the page. However, the foreground is not only present but overwhelms the text, making it less clearly visible to the reader. Through the foreground, the reader is drawn into the illustrated space of the construction site rather than to the text. This dominance of illustration is consistent throughout the book, where pictures take up over half of the physical space. On page 9, the picture is so large that only one or two lines can be squeezed in at the bottom. Here, text takes the status of captions as the focus is clearly directed toward the image. In addition, while text follows the rule of moving topdown on each physical page, continuing onto the subsequent page, the illustrations span the entire width of a double page spread. When the book is opened to any page, an entire scene is shown in a complete composition rather than icons illustrating bits of text. Aesthetics of composition, therefore, have clearly been a main focus for the bookâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s creators. The space allocated to image in the book allows the illustrator to represent massive industrial structures, compared to which surroundings seem minuscule and insignificant. Even the hero shock workers appear to be the size of ants, suggesting that their individual efforts are insignificant while their collective efforts in industry will play a greater role in socialist history. Though workers are defending the future through their labor, industry and

state must take center stage. The gigantic metallurgical site extends to the edges of the page, suggesting its infinite existence into the future, that the Soviet Union will live on for centuries to come. Endless horizons and soft, undefined surfaces encourage the readerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s imagination. At the same time, on page 9, the space is endless in some areas but confined in others. This illustration takes the reader within the semi-enclosed metallurgical structure where lines converge at what appears to be a foundry ladle pouring out molten metal. There are workers pouring metal and shoveling in visually undefined grey piles. In the distance, through the thick support beams, more industrial structures are spanning the horizon. The reader is confined within the foundry but has the ability to see a vast space beyond, suggesting that there is endless potential which must be directed in certain ways. Together, defined lines and closed spaces direct the imagination toward industry while more ambiguous areas allow a freedom to foster creativity. Some compositions show the plant from afar and illustrate the scene as a city, allowing the reader to explore the industrial site like a cityscape with houses and smaller buildings lightly surrounding it like suburbs or neighborhoods. The homes are loosely defined, playing a less important role than the plant, reflecting the role of the ant-like workers discussed above. These city-like scenes show the ways in which everyday life was meant to focus on the plant, but also that the plant is the foundation for broader community life. Page 7 particularly depicts

various elements of a cityscape. There are multiple modes of transport, trains, cars, and horse-drawn carriages, moving in different directions around the plant and through the town in the background. Similar to a city, the industrial site is the center of bustling movement and political action. In the foreground, an anti-religious parade demonstration walks across from the right–hand page into the center of the left, breaking the conventional left–to–right movement of reading a page. This parade disrupts the flow of text, leading the reader’s eye in the opposite direction toward a large banner reading, “с этим социализма не построишь!” (you cannot build socialism with that!), and eventually into the metallurgical town center. Visual disruption reflects the values of a state founded by socialist revolution: pushing against the cultural traditions of Orthodox religion, the crowd is pushing the reader towards a symbol of Soviet industrial culture. Workers are unified with industry through the repetition of color present across the entire scene, animate and inanimate objects alike. The man on the banner throwing down the Orthodox cross is the same size and is level with the plant, signifying that believing in Soviet ideology and contributing to the workforce are equally important aspects of socialist life. Within this scene, the metallurgical plant becomes a cultural site as well as an industrial one. The plant is the center around which political, cultural, and economic forces gather. It is the hearth of the collective workers’ community in Kuznetsk.

Conversely, another illustration of the plant is reflective of an agricultural scene (5). Rows of grey pipe and grids act like rows of crops while cement machines resembling old–fashioned hand plows and giant siloshaped structures stand in the background. This page demonstrates creativity in taking the familiar and reimagining it into new forms. Workers appear to cultivate the earth like farmers but instead lay concrete over it. Similarly, Soviet children’s literature at the time portrayed nature as a force to be harnessed and manipulated by humans. The illustration reflects this by showing the earth covered with concrete and mined for natural resources like coal in order to achieve industrialization. The shock workers show “образцы нового, коммунистического отношения к труду, — к труду на самих себя, а не на эксплуататоров” (examples of the new, Communist attitude to work — to work for themselves, not for exploiters; 5). Their labor is described in a cultural and historical context, reflecting on the progress of workers over time. The turn from entirely agricultural to an increasingly industrial economy is aided by historical revolutions and liberations of the workers, from the emancipation of the serfs to the Bolshevik revolution in 1917. Shock workers of Kuznetsk represent the freedom of socialist labor, a freedom which must be constantly protected from ekspluatatory. The book directly promotes socialist industrialization and stresses that religion is not only an obstacle but also an active threat to the success of the Soviet Union. However, it is interesting that despite

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a clear political and economic objective within the text, only one illustration is outwardly political, the parade on page 7. Other scenes depict somewhat ordinary situations of an industrial site: workers smoothing concrete, pouring metal, and using a crane. I described the text as being caption-like earlier in the essay as a way to simply compare text and image size. However, if we treat certain pages as being a captioned picture where the text directly explains or describes what is occurring in the image above, a significant message within the book becomes clearer. Read for text only, this book depicts an ongoing battle against a threat. Illustrated, this battle is fought by shock workers through their everyday labor within industrial plants. Instead of battles in farâ&#x20AC;&#x201C;off fairytale lands between a good and an evil which represent socialist and religious parties respectively, this book works within the realm of the industrial site, inside the Soviet Union, and on the everyday scale. Returning to the analogy in the beginning of this essay, from a non-essentialist position, the culture that makes fire trucks fascinating to children is the culture that makes firefighters heroes. In the Soviet case, literature is used to create a new socialist culture in which shock workers are heroes; therefore, metallurgical plants and other industrial elements can be fascinating spaces which children can direct their imaginations and explore. The animate and inanimate, the natural and unnatural, and the real and the imaginary are all depicted as cohesive and unified within the collective workerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s

space. Here the earth is pink and there the towers are grey, but here the worker is grey and there the pipes are pink. Kuznetskstroi. Sotsialisticheskii gigant is an imagined space that plays with notions of the imaginary from the very first page when yet unaccomplished production statistics are drowned in a pink foreground. The presence of both confined and undefined industrial boundaries is reflective of the nature of Soviet childrenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s literature, where creativity and imagination are also simultaneously confined yetendless. Gurevich and Igumnov use art to imagine the yet unmade socialist future and children are encouraged to direct their imaginations to objectives useful to the state. This does not mean there is an absence of creativity but a creativity which is directed towards a culturally specific goal. Through the exploration of illustrations within Kuznetskstroi. Sotsialisticheskii gigant, it is clear that aesthetic compositions can exist alongside an overtly political and economic text while successfully conveying a depth of meaning and symbolism which warrants appreciation.

Making Everybody Go-Gol Wild(e): An Analysis of Fashion, Sexuality, and Nationality in the Lives and Works of Nikolai Gogal and Oscar Wilde.

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Anna Box

When examining the broader life and oeuvre of Nikolai Gogol, it is easy to pinpoint certain writers Gogol had direct relationships to, whether he inspired or was inspired by them: Alexander Pushkin, Fyodor Dostoevsky, and Vladimir Nabokov immediately come to mind, though countless others could be discussed and considered. But, while understanding Gogol’s direct literary influences and impacts is undoubtedly useful and imperative, it is equally beneficial to study and compare Gogol to parallel figures— those who directly mirror Gogol without ever intersecting with him. None seem so apt for comparison as prolific Irish writer Oscar Wilde. Between inherited beliefs from their mothers and complex literary inspirations, admirable use of humor, use

of fashion and performance of identity, and perhaps most of all their much debated nationalities, Gogol and Wilde’s lives and resulting works of literature inform each other through shared experiences and mirrored lives. First and foremost, it is important to establish Wilde and Gogol’s relationships with nationality, and why it impacts and connects them so deeply. Wilde’s nationality is ultimately easier to understand, though no less interesting; an Irish nationalist, Wilde was quoted as saying “it is my own belief that Ireland should rule England” and teaching his children to follow the same ideals, to the point where his oldest son Cyril became upset with a visiting poet for being a

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potential Home Ruler1. Wilde’s nationalism, which was strange for the middle-class Protestant gentry he grew up in (normally supporting English rule), was inherited from his mother Jane and her “patriotic prose” under the name Speranza. Jane, however, was “Anglo-Irish” by class, and leaned towards the contradictory in her political views, enjoying the benefits of English aristocracy while supporting and inspiring Irish revolutionaries2. While this will be discussed more in depth later, it is important to note for now the ways Jane sponsored Wilde’s own embracing of the ironic and contradictory. Gogol’s national identity was much more fraught and widely debated; seemingly every scholar that graces the topic holds a different opinion on Gogol and his Russian-Ukranian loyalties. When examining Gogol’s physical appearance and fashion in relation to his nationality, Richard Gregg leans towards Gogol as Russian primarily—in education, language, and the entirety of his oeuvre—with an “abiding attachment to his native customs and culture” that faded after flirtations with Ukraine in his early fiction and attempts at both teaching and writing Ukranian history that ultimately failed3. Roman Koropeckj and Robert Romanchuk seem to agree, citing Gogol’s assertion to his mother that 1 McCormack, Jerusha. “The Wilde Irishman”, 82. 2 McCormack, Jerusha. “The Wilde Irishman”, 82-83. 3 Gregg, Richard. “The Writer and His Quiff ”, 66.

“Everyone here is taken up with anything that is Little Russian” after asking her for details of Ukranian “customs and beliefs to names of games and articles of clothing”4. Edyta Bojanowska, however, has a different perception of Gogol’s Ukranianess, which she concludes in the following quote: “...Gogol’s notions of what constitutes a worthy, viable nation were rooted in his conception of Ukraine, as he developed it in the years 1830 to 1836. When trying to create a sympathetic image of Russianness, Gogol kept reaching for the Ukrainian particulars that he held dear: folk songs, love of revelry, Cossack abandon, variegated southern nature. His lifelong cultural belonging to Ukraine contrasted with his civic commitment to Russian nationalism.”5 Bojanowska’s idea suggests that, while Gogol felt duty-bound to Russia, he nevertheless felt a natural love for Ukraine and an inherent foreignness to Russia. Gogol and Wilde’s identities perhaps make more sense together than apart. The countries they wrote in, during their active years, were towering empires bent on victories and colonization; from 4 Koropeckj, Roman and Robert Romanchuk. “Ukraine in Blackface”, 528. 5 Ilnytzkyj, Oleh S. “The Nationalism of Nikolai Gogol”, 371.

1826 to the 1840s, Russia participated in several winning wars and crushed colonial revolutions after defeating Napoleon in 18126. Similarly, Great Britain’s imperial presence was dominant and widespread in the 1880-90s, winning the second Boer War in South Africa7. Wilde and Gogol, however, were not true Englishmen or Russians—no matter their loyalties to their respective birthplaces, whether national pride or forced disinterest, they were from the very colonies of these massive empires, and the colonies closest to the center. Despite this, they shared ambitions of being great writers within these empires; as a result, much of their lives and works were shaped by their relations to nationality and how their ethnic backgrounds were viewed by “the center.” Further exemplifying their relationship to the culture of “the center” are their relationships to major national poets: for Wilde, young Romanticist John Keats, and for Gogol, the prolific Alexander Pushkin. Wilde’s idealization of Keats never lead to any sort of successful imitation of Keats’s style; despite his dedication, his attempts at writing inspiring, nationallyadmired works failed. Gogol’s relationship with Pushkin similarly reflected a difference in background and style, an obstacle Gogol could not overcome in attempting to reach Pushkin’s status. Gogol and Wilde, the outsiders in these literary 6 Meyers, Jeffrey. “The World of Nikolai Gogol”, ix. 7 Fletcher, Angus. “The World of Oscar Wilde”, ix.

circles, would each turn to controlling their public image through copious changes to physical appearance, name, and presentation of their works. Both Wilde and Gogol’s new public images stem from this outsider identity and reactions to what was considered a “national”, upstanding poet. Wilde’s performance of personal identity was marked most notably by his dandyism, driven by his anarchist beliefs and desire to critique the same upper-class Victorian English culture that mocked Irish immigrants. On this subject, McCormack says: “Despising the society into which he seeks initiation, the dandy takes his revenge by creating himself in its image, miming its clothes, its manners and mannerisms. (‘Imitation,’ as Wilde observed, ‘can be made the sincerest form of insult.’) Inherently exaggerated, such mimicry exposes the fissures of its own performance: the double standards on which it rests.”8

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This is a perfect example of the paradox Wilde has mastered; just as he uses paradoxes and irony in his domestic, English-based plays—especially The Importance of Being Earnest (often with the subtitle “A trivial comedy for serious 8 McCormack, Jerusha. “The Wilde Irishman”, 89.

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people”) —to upend Victorian traditions and values, he uses his performance as the dandy to “[become] more English than the English,” proving the supposed inherent qualities of the aristocracy to be null and able to be manipulated by anyone, even a “lazy, improvident” Irishman9. Wilde even went as far as shortening his birth name and “abandon[ing] his Irish accent”10 in the pursuit of this performative irony. Similarly, Gogol is identified as a dandy by many, including Gitta Hammarberg in her essay “Sartor Resartus: Gogol’s Overcoats.” Gregg notes Gogol’s many strategies for controlling his physical appearance and artistic identity as he rose to prominence in Russian literary circles, his “concern for his public appearance… almost obsessive”: Gogol meticulously styled his hair in a quiff or khokhol, and cared deeply about fashion and trendiness11. More notably, though, is Gogol’s name change; the name Gogol is not his at all, but the result of his grandfather claiming relation to a “Ukranian Cossack army officer,” which Gogol then took on to replace his former surname Ianovskii12. Gregg also argues that, despite Gogol’s move towards Russianness and Russian fashion, he still had deep connections to Ukraine that may be seen by his wearing of the khokhol, 9 McCormack, Jerusha. “The Wilde Irishman”, 89. 10 Ibid, 89. 11 Gregg, Richard. “The Writer and His Quiff ”, 65. 12 Ibid, 65.

typically associated with Ukranian men to distinguish themselves from Russians; though this may seem contradictory, Gregg cites this in accordance with Gogol’s tendency for “hidden exposure,” and his paradoxical habit of secret-keeping alongside his love of flashiness in clothing and behavior13. Hammarburg’s supposition that Gogol also disliked fashion and dandyism as seen in his treatment of Akakii Akakievich in “The Overcoat” only furthers this argument; Gogol, while enjoying fashion and desiring status in Russia, punishes Akakii for doing the same, implying some form of guilt over his actions, especially his exploitation of all things Ukranian14. Beyond interest and aesthetic, fashion could also indicate Gogol and Wilde’s greater roles in dandyism. Romanchuk and Korepeckyj note the dandy’s role in presenting the traditional minstrel show; the dandy is used to frame the performance in literary or visual representations, giving the audience a figure to identify with15. While they argue that Gogol uses the “elite Russian reader” to frame the ridiculous Dikan’ka, as he asks “What oddity is this?”16, it is also easy to see how Gogol’s own persona was meant to be a part of this reading as the dandy 13 Ibid, 66. 14 Hammarberg, Gita. “Sartor Resartus”, 395. 15 Koropeckj, Roman and Robert Romanchuk. “Ukraine in Blackface”, 532. 16 Koropeckj, Roman and Robert Romanchuk. “Ukraine in Blackface”, 538.

who frames these tales he tells, presenting them as quaint and comedic. The irony, of course, is Gogol’s own Ukranianness: he is the very thing he taunts, dressed up to avoid association yet unable to escape his distance from “the center.” While Wilde did not use his Irishness in the way Gogol exploited his Ukranian ties, his success mainly came from his “domestic” plays and domestic caricature of the Englishman. The plays utilize Wilde’s unique sense of humor and irony while nevertheless critiquing Victorian culture, and in many ways, they mirror Wilde’s performative identity as a dandy. Wilde presents Englishness with mimicry and mocking—yet nevertheless, he is seen as the lower being by his English audience. Despite somewhat different approaches, Gogol and Wilde were now both outsiders who created a unique role for themselves—court-jester like figures known best for their humor instead of their earnest dramas in the spirit of Pushkin or Keats. Many of Wilde and Gogol’s works taken together can be seen as commentaries on these created personas and the internal issues they caused. Notably, the themes of mirrors, conflicts with identity, and gothic body horror appear in both Gogol and Wilde’s oeuvres; Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray shows young Dorian exchange his soul for eternal youth and beauty, while his portrait shows the grotesque picture of his decaying body and morality. The Importance of Being Earnest concerns concealing one’s identity for romantic and financial gain. Several of

Wilde’s other plays are noted for characters that are not “natural”17. Gogol, of course, has much of the same: “The Nose” shows Kovalyov’s nose coming to life and acting independent of him, while The Government Inspector features foppish Khlestakov, once again, concealing his identity to gain fortune. “The Portrait”’s Chartkov is offered a deal similar to Wilde’s Dorian, this time on the basis of art: Chartkov can either make his way in the world with his own talents, or be guaranteed fame and fortune at the cost of his artistic integrity. Dead Souls is perhaps the most significant; Gogol takes care to show the way Chichikov shifts personalities between each potential seller of dead souls he comes across, and Kathleen Manukyan even calls Chichikov a “human mirror”18. If nationality and appearance distance Gogol and Wilde from the rest of the “center,” then their sexualities only further this “outsider” perspective and enhance the ability to critique heteronormativity and the culture of marriage. Wilde’s queerness is well known from his 1895 trials for “gross indecency” and is seen in many of his works. Wilde’s critiques of marriage are also widespread; each of his domestic plays shows the nonsensical, shallow, or complicated nature of marriage. While Gogol’s queerness is much less blatant, it is nevertheless existent, as argued by 17 Ellerman, Richard. Oscar Wilde, 314. 18 Manukyan, Kathleen. “From Maidens to Mugs”, 281.

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Simon Karlinsky. Karlinsky, through close readings of Gogol’s texts, argues that Gogol’s homosexuality is the “missing link” in his personality that perhaps makes his works and life more understandable. Karlinsky argues that Gogol also could not accept himself—as we see in his national identity as a borderline Russian-Ukrainian and a self-hating dandy19. His critiques of marriage are similarly widespread, from Paraska’s inevitable turn from beautiful maiden to wicked old hag after marriage to the notable absence of love interests in many other works. Finally, Gogol’s creative decline, as commonly known, more or less began with Pushkin’s death, after which Gogol was known as the greatest living Russian writer. At this crowning, Gogol felt a spiritual obligation to educate Russia on how to live a moral life in a world without morality20. But, as acknowledged, Gogol himself was at odds with his own identity in many, if not all, aspects; his nationality, sexuality, and relationship to fashion and aesthetics were all fraught with indecision and conflicting feelings. Thus, Gogol’s attempts to educate the Russian reading public caused nothing but stress from the incredible and most likely impossible task; if Gogol could not decide morality for himself and clear truth, how could he decide it for a nation? This new drive to morally instruct the public also lead to a break in Gogol’s well-made 19 Karlinsky, Simon. The Sexual Labyrinth of Nikolai Gogol. 20 Meyers, Jeffrey. “The World of Nikolai Gogol”, ix.

identity—since Gogol’s public persona was so carefully crafted, the insistence of change muddled and confused him, and perhaps caused him to feel the same guilt evident in his portrayal of Akakii Akakievich21 and aided in Gogol’s attempts at faithfulness under Moscow priest Matvey Konstantinovsky. Gogol’s maddened death by starvation suggests that salvation was not reached, and that the pressure of becoming the new face of Russian literary morality was suffocating and impossible to meet22. Wilde’s own social and creative decline was, again, triggered by a loss in control of his identity; while Wilde maintained a cool, languid persona, it may also have led to his downfall in the trial against the Marquess of Queensbury, where it is noted that his “flippancy” was often used against him to the benefit of his persecutors23. Once Wilde was sentenced to jail for two years’ hard labor, his image was destroyed; his hair was cut, his fashion forgone, and the calm arrogant disposition he once cultivated as London’s most popular playwright was replaced by the public’s scorn24. Similar to Gogol’s hopes of moral teachings, this event caused a spiritual change in Wilde’s writing, as he

21 Hammarberg, Gitta. “Sartor Resartus”, 395. 22 Meyers, Jeffrey. “The World of Nikolai Gogol”, ix. 23 Foldy, Michael S. The Trials of Oscar Wilde. 24 Old Bailey Proceedings Online. “Trial of Oscar Wilde.”

himself says: “I entered prison with a heart of stone, thinking only of my pleasure, but now my heart has been broken; pity has entered my heart; I now understand that pity is the greatest and the most beautiful thing that there is in the world. And that’s why I can’t be angry with those who condemned me, nor with anyone, because then I would not have known that at all.”25 Wilde seems to have found the spiritual salvation that Gogol strove for; De Profundis and “The Ballad of Reading Gaol”, though mostly published after Wilde’s death, are considered highly emotional texts with great philosophical value, unlike Gogol’s Selected Passages, which was seen as preaching and blindly in favor of the government and church instead of showing Gogol’s own personal life and beliefs. Gogol and Wilde, in both their works and their lives, share many similarities: from the perspectives and criticisms they offer on Russian and English societies, to their humor, to their constructed identities and even their relationships with and image in relation to their literary inspirations. It is my belief that these similarities, and the nature of their differences to the societies and 25 Wilde, Oscar. Only Dull People Are Brilliant At Breakfast, 27.

cultures they wrote in, connect Wilde and Gogol across literary movements--they are the queer, dandiacal humorists and foreigners to their respective Russia and England, taking the same inspirations and making genre-defying, grotesque content that mirrors one another. They are the court-jesters and minstrel-show dandies presenting the absurd. But beyond understanding Gogol and Wilde is understanding a broader view of literature; if Gogol and Wilde are relatively unique and strange in their own literary circles, but incredibly similar to each other, do they make up their own cross-cultural movement, and if so, are they the only members? If Gogol and Wilde are outsiders in their own literary circles, then do outsiders make more sense together—and if so, do they offer a new view of the queer, dandyish other, from the “quaint colony” that is close to home for the center of an empire but nevertheless ostracized? And, most importantly, if Gogol and Wilde make their own genre and literary conventions, are they alone in this invented category? Whatever the answers may be, it is doubtless that Gogol and Wilde together are better understood than apart, and offer new, exciting potential for understanding two figures often surrounded by mystery and debate.

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CULTURE

Pavlensky and Nenasheva Fixed in History: Contemporary Russian Performance Art Through the Lens of Abjection

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Farid Djamalov

On the chilly day of November 10 , 2013, most Russian policemen surrounded themselves with the warm presence of those close to them to celebrate National Police Day. Unfortunately, a hapless few did not get to enjoy serenity – worried calls about a case on the Red Square put a damper on those policemen’s plans. Petr Pavlensky, an infamous actionist, found the national occasion to be an opportune moment for his art performance Fixation (2013). This seminal artwork radicalized Russian performance art to an unprecedented extent. In this paper, I will relate Pavlensky’s Fixation to Cargo 300 (2018), a performance by the younger artist Katrin Nenasheva, to rationalize the radicalization of Russian performance art through Julia Kristeva’s th

post-structuralist concept of “abjection.” I will first discuss Pavlensky’s work by contextualizing it with background on his education and his view of Russia’s current political landscape. Once the artist’s rationale is clear, I will explicate the motifs he draws upon in his performance and explain why he chooses to implicate authorities as part of his performance. By introducing Cargo 300, a work by Nenasheva, I will demonstrate the trend of radicalization in Russian performance art and juxtapose the ways both artists implicate their audience. I will conclude by tying in Kristeva’s concept of “abjection” to both artists’ works to explain why this shift in Russian performance art is necessary. Fixation is one of the many radical art performances Pavlensky has executed.

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While the artist acquired international fame during the Pussy Riot trial when he sewed his lips shut in solidarity with the punk group, his body of work includes wrapping himself naked in barbed wire in front of Saint Petersburg’s Legislative Assembly, cutting off his earlobe on the roof of the psychiatric Serbsky Center and setting FSB doors on fire. For his performance Fixation, Pavlensky went for a stroll on the Red Square in broad daylight, stripped his clothes in under a minute, sat on icy cobblestones in front of Lenin’s Mausoleum and nailed his scrotum to the ground. Unsuspecting onlookers loitered around the performance with either curiosity, disgust or second-hand pain. When the policemen arrived, they ordered Pavlensky to stand up in order to take him for interrogation. Pavlensky did not speak. Once the policemen realized in horror that the man was fixed to the ground, they threw a blanket over him. They called for an ambulance prior to taking him into questioning. Contextualizing Pavlensky’s art education and his view of modern Russia helps better understand Fixation. Pavlensky dropped out of the Saint Petersburg Art and Industry Academy after having described it as a “disciplinary institution that aims to make servants out of artists” (Walker). His attitude towards the art school should not be written off as a denunciation of the school’s traditional approach – a common trope among forward-thinking artists in history. Instead, Pavlensky laments the clerical ideology his classmates

unquestionably absorbed and believes that “art is [being] used as an instrument for ideology and propaganda” (Bachina). As he aptly says himself, “I realized that I don’t want to allow the instrumentalization of art and to allow myself to be used to execute someone else’s ideological goals” (Bachina). It is under this light that one understands how Pavlensky has come to create his emblematic antiestablishment performance artwork. Pavlensky is interested in engaging those who are indifferent to art or poitics in his performances. As he points out in his artist statement for Fixation, he tugs at “the apathy, political indifference and fatalism of contemporary Russian society” (Walker). He likens the country to a big prison that sustains itself through the indolence of its own inhabitants: As the government turns the country into one big prison, stealing from the people and using the money to grow and enrich the police apparatus and other repressive structures, society is allowing this, and [sic] forgetting its numerical advantage, is bringing the triumph of the police state closer by its inaction (Eshun). In other words, Pavlensky believes that people are complicit through their inaction, allowing the government to strengthen the police’s grasp of its people. This situation results in the government’s enforcement of other repressive structures that diminish the freedom and rights of citizens. Pavlensky’s metaphor of Russia as a large prison helps his audience to

best understand why the artist nails his scrotum. While accounts vary, the most plausible explanation for the artist’s inspiration locates it back to his brief stay in a prison cell after his Carcass (2013) performance. During his overnight stay, he met a fellow inmate who shared stories from his gulag experience. By this man’s account, prisoners would resort to nailing their scrotums to trees when prison authorities would not respond to their more peaceful protests against the inhumane conditions (Walker). Pavlensky’s work is best understood as a play on the gulag tradition – the Russian government has imprisoned all of its inhabitants and the artist nails himself to the ground in desperation. Of course, the symbolism of the Red Square onto which he fixes himself amplifies Pavlensky’s cry. While Pavlensky’s predecessors, such as Pussy Riot, Voina and Ekspropriatsiia territorii iskusstva, tapped into the Red Square’s ideological potential to attack the government with art, Pavlensky is a hopeless gulag inmate representing the last straws of defiance (Eshun). In Pavlensky’s opinion, “political art means revealing the levers and mechanisms of power” (Langemann). He elaborates, “I show the relationships between those in power and society. My task is to articulate what is going on.” This performance is not directed toward the government, but to society at large as a reminder that it is impossible to live in the middle – the choice for citizens is to leave, go to prison, or join those in power either directly or through inaction.

As the prolific Russian art collector Igor Tsukanov notes, “In Russia you have to be either brave, or be silent. There is no middle” (Brown). Pavlensky’s date selection demonstrates intentionality in implicating the police, but it is crucial to understand how and why Pavlensky makes policemen active participants in Fixation. If other “artivists” like Pussy Riot try to run away from the police, Pavlensky extends his performance to incorporate the policemen’s reaction. As Pavlensky claims himself, “Whenever I do a performance like this, I never leave the place. It’s important for me that I stay there. The authorities are in a dead-end situation and don’t know what to do” (Walker). Pavlensky’s approach places police officers in comical predicaments. For instance, in Stitch (2012), Pavlensky is physically unable to answer police officers during interrogations with his mouth sutured, thereby forcing the officers to become participants in his performance (Langemann). This idea of incorporating authorities into the performance is also manifested in Fixation. When policemen come and order the artist to stand up, they are baffled when they realize that he is fixed to the ground. The confused officers throw a blanket over the artist and call an ambulance. Pavlensky is brought to the police station and is released in the evening. However, a few days later they open a case of “hooliganism motivated by hatred of a particular social, ethnic

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or religious group.” (Walker). Pavlensky’s performance, however, does not end at the detainment. Since Pavlensky refuses to give a testimony, the prosecutor is inevitably required to grapple with his art and ruminate on art’s goals while working on the paperwork for the case. Pavlensky believes that: The task of art is the destruction, discrediting and disabling of the decoration behind which the administrative grimace of power hides itself. We have to force these machines to work for the goals of art, and against the narrative of power (Spieker, 220). The prosecutor is required to construct a story through Pavlensky’s actions and the paperwork becomes part of the storytelling. Former chief investigator Pavel Jasman, who was fired for being unable to contain the Pavlensky fiasco, says of the artist: “I think he is unique. There are many dissenters, but none of them would go to the Red Square to nail themselves to it” (Langemann). Juxtaposing Pavlensky’s Fixation to Katrin Nenasheva’s Cargo 300, the budding artist presents an alternate way of implicating an audience that does not spotlight policemen. However, it is important to first contextualize her background to understand how she came to create this performance. Nenasheva, a 24-year-old artist, rose to fame in 2017 with her performance in which she walked around Moscow with a VR headset that allowed her to peer into the daily life in a

psychiatric clinic. The artist was detained for hosting a “non-sanctioned spontaneous performance” – a charge pinned to many dissenting artists like Pavlensky and Pussy Riot (Leonova). Nenasheva has been detained multiple times, and in these detainments, she has been tortured. Most notably, in May of 2018, Nenasheva traveled to Donetsk with a friend to see her relatives only to be arrested without reason her second day there (Bolchek). Police officers had hunted her down with her photograph from the Garage Museum’s Triennial. After spending time at the police station, a group of men in masks stormed in and put bags over her and her friend’s heads and handcuffed them. They brought the two into a truck and beat them, threatening to kill them. They tortured them for details about their next performance. After a day and a half of this torture, the kidnappers let them go. It is in reference to this torture that Nenasheva created her performance Cargo 300. In this performance, the artist, clad in a flesh coloured unisuit, places herself in a polyethylene lined animal cage for hours outside of an FSB building. As she sits motionless, passersby are unsure of whether the body is alive or not. Upon closer inspection, a subtle poster reads: In this cage is a body. The body that was tortured. Torture in Russia occurs daily – behind the closed doors of prisons, police stations, psychoneurological institutions, psychiatric hospitals. When I was tortured, I felt like I

was in a cage – lonely, powerless, lost, shrunk. I was absolutely helpless, but most importantly – I was invisible. There are hundreds of such “invisible” people in Russia. It is hard to integrate back into reality after being tortured. Torture becomes the cargo you carry inside yourself, on yourself, with yourself. Someone is being tortured in Russia right now, this very minute, this very second (Basov; my translation). Nenasheva’s performance artwork draws on a similar metaphor to Pavlensky’s view of Russia being a big prison. Nenasheva literally places herself into a cage. Pavlensky is also a victim of torture in detainment. He has broken his knee, fractured a rib and suffered internal bruising in Moscow jail cells (Volchek). Through her work, Nenasheva grapples with her experience of torture and attempts to demonstrate to the public that anyone could become a target of Russia’s repressive, quasi-prison operating regime. Nenasheva implicates the audience in Cargo 300 in ways similar to Pavlensky in Fixation. Rather than focusing on how the police reacts, however, Nenasheva studies the same apathy in Russians but through the reactions of passersby. She does not expect a singular reaction but requires people to reflect on how they react to the motionless body in a cage. The crowd of those who stumble upon this performance span from the endearing babushkas who rush to warm Nenasheva’s

hands, to the worried parents who call the police, to the knowledgeable Westernizer familiar with terms like “performance,” to the sadist who tries to burn her heel (Bolchek). Even those who simply pass by the performance are implicated in the artwork as they actively choose not to respond. As Nenasheva elaborates: Our hands are being tied, our legs are being fastened, we walk around the city like zombies. The third wave of actionism, after Pussy Riot, after the first actions of Pavlensky, is about interacting with people (Bolchek; my translation and italicization). While many were worried by the sight of what appeared to be a corpse, the most widespread reaction was to call the police or ambulance. This reaction was a way to shift the ethical burden to officials, despite the reactor’s inevitable inkling that police officers would not handle the situation in the best way. Even though the kindest souls remained when police arrived and stayed to warm her, whispering “Не переживай, сейчас всë закончится, всë будет хорошо,” (“Don’t worry, everything will end now, everything will be okay,”) these people were unwilling to try to stop policemen from detaining her. The artist wonders, “will there be a case when people will interfere with the police?” (Bolchek). The post-structuralist concept of “abjection” coined by philosopher and literary critic Julia Kristeva helps understand why Pavlensky’s and Nenasheva’s radical, interactive

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performances are crucial contributions to contemporary Russian performance art. In Powers of Horror, Kristeva discusses “abjection” in terms of the visceral horror one experiences when the distinction between subject and object, self and other, collapses. Kristeva exemplifies this concept best in a person’s traumatic realization of death’s eventuality when observing a cadaver. As Kristeva puts it, “the corpse, seen without God and outside of science, is the utmost of abjection. It is death infecting life. Abject” (Felluga). This crude memento mori, a material embodiment of the abstract concept of death, elicits an abject response. When one grapples with abjection, they have no choice but to be “draw[n toward] the place where meaning collapses” to confront this reality (Felluga). However, abjection simultaneously prevents absolute realization of existence as one is repelled by the object. As a result, abjection exists in a liminal space between the subject and the object. One can experience abjection in other situations, such as when observing open wounds or bodily fluids. Kristeva relates this theory to art by claiming that “the various means of purifying the abject – the various catharses – make up the history of religions, and end up with that catharsis par excellence called art” (Felluga). Many contemporary artists like Andres Serrano have played with the tensions in abjection by choosing not to purify the abject. In 1987, Serrano controversially photographed a small crucifix submerged in a glass of urine. By introducing bodily fluids, the artist

transgresses the norm of art being cleanly and evokes abjection within viewers. When speaking of modernist literature, Kristeva favors works that transcend the linguistic binary of self and other by exploring the abject. For Pavlensky and Nenasheva, eliciting abjection is a crucial component to their performances. It is important for them to appeal to the more atavistic drives of viewers in order to combat the aforementioned “apathy, political indifference and fatalism of contemporary Russian society.” By nailing his scrotum, Pavlensky makes the connection of his performance to Kristeva’s concept clear. With a blurred sense of self and other, the viewer grapples in Pavlensky’s work with what it is like to be a desperate gulag inmate nailed to the ground in desperation. Cargo 300 is less crude in its display of self-harm, but the element of abjection is equally present. Nenasheva requires viewers to wrestle with the fact that they could become subjects of torture just like the object trapped in the cage in front of them. As she lies motionless in a cage, she confronts viewers as an object of torture that may or may not be alive. In Pavlensky’s performance, the abjection is triggered by the artist’s real pain, whereas in Nenasheva’s case, it is driven by the perception of a potential corpse. Pavlensky’s and Nenasheva’s employment of abjection is necessary, as viewers are forced to react and reflect on their passivity in the Russian regime. The modern populace’s apathy has resulted

in the fact that the very fears Soviet people had harbored in relation to their repressive government still chime with the fears Russians experience today. As one of Russia’s first actionists Oleg Kulik says, “Everything that was there under Stalin is there now. The experiment with Lenin is not over. Lenin sits there and watches everything, he is alive” (Brown). Pavlensky’s and Nenasheva’s simple gestures are a potent symbol of protest. Their art is driven by desperation rather than experimentation, and by employing abjection, they force Russians to confront their apathy that empowers the repressive government. With this trend of radicalism in Russian art, Russians will have no choice but to reflect and change the status quo.

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TRANSLATION

The Birch

A.P. Chekhov Death of a Government Clerk Translated by Anya Konstantinovsky

One lovely evening, a no less

person, looked around him: had he

lovely government clerk, Ivan Dmitrich

disturbed anyone with his sneezing? But

Chervyakov1 sat in the second orchestra

now, disconcertment was unavoidable. He

row and looked through his binoculars at

saw that a little old man sitting in front

“The Bells of Corneville.” He looked and

of him, in the front row, was carefully

felt himself to be at the height of bliss. But

wiping his bald head and neck with a

suddenly…One often encounters a “but

glove, muttering something to himself.

suddenly” in stories. Authors are right:

Chervyakov recognized the Counselor

life is so very full of the unexpected! But

of State Brizhalov,2 who served in the

suddenly…His face crinkled, his eyes

Department of Railways.

rolled up, his breathing stopped…He

“I sprayed him!” Chervyakov

drew his opera glasses away from his eyes,

thought. “He’s someone else’s boss, not

bent over and…Achoo!!! As you can see,

mine, but nevertheless it is awkward. I

he sneezed. Sneezing is not forbidden to

must apologize.”

anyone, anywhere. Peasants, police chiefs,

Chervyakov cleared his throat,

sometimes even privy counselors, sneeze.

leaned forward and whispered into the

All people sneeze. Chervyakov was not

general’s ear, “I am sorry Yr’xellency that I

at all abashed. He wiped his face with a

sprayed you…It was unintentional.”

handkerchief and, like any well-mannered

1. The name Chervyakov comes from the Russian “chervyak,” meaning “worm.”

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“It’s alright, it’s alright.” 2. The name Brizhalov originates from the Russian “brizgat’” which means to spray and “bruzhat’” which mean to grumble.

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“For heaven’s sake forgive me. After all…It’s not like I meant it…” “Oh, please do sit quietly! Let me listen!”

it seemed to him, was too cavalier about what had happened. She was frightened at first but calmed down when she learned that Brizhalov was someone else’s boss.

Chervyakov grew flustered, grinned stupidly, and looked back at the

apologize,” she said. “He’ll think you don’t

stage. He watched, all traces of bliss gone.

know how to behave in public!”

His anxiety was starting to torment him.

“That’s exactly it! I apologized but

During the intermission he walked over

then he was so strange…didn’t say a single

to Brizhalov, passed him a few times and,

sensible word. Besides, there was no time

having overcome his timidity, mumbled: “I

to talk.”

sprayed you, Yr’xellency…Forgive me…you see…it is not that…” “Oh, enough… I had already

The next day Chervyakov put on his new uniform, got a haircut, and headed over to Brizhalov to explain himself.

forgotten, and still you are going on

Walking into the general’s reception room

about it!” the general said, his bottom lip

he saw many petitioners and, among

twitching with impatience.

them, the general himself who had already

“He ‘forgot’, ’ but his eyes are full

begun hearing requests. Having questioned

of spite,” thought Chervyakov, glancing

several petitioners, the general lifted his

suspiciously at the general. “He doesn’t

gaze to Chervyakov.

want to talk either. I need to explain to him

“Yesterday in the Arcadia, if you

that I really didn’t mean it…it’s a law of

recall, Yr’xellency,” the clerk spoke as if

nature, or else he’ll think I wanted to spit

he was giving a report, “I sneezed and…

on him. If he’s not thinking it now, he’ll

accidentally sprayed you… Forg–”

think it later!...” Once home, Chervyakov told his wife about his breach of etiquette. His wife,

“Nevertheless, you should go and

“What nonsense…God knows what! Alright, what do you need?” the general moved on to the next petitioner.

“He doesn’t want to talk!” thought

the general. He thought and thought and

Chervyakov, paling at the idea. “He’s angry,

could not think of what to write. Thus,

which means…No, I simply can’t leave it

it was necessary to go the next day and

like this…I’ll explain to him…”

explain in person.

When the general had finished

“Yesterday I came to trouble

his conversation with the final petitioner

you, Yr’xellency,” he mumbled when the

and was about to go headed to his private

general had raised his eyes at him with

rooms, Chervyakov followed him and

a quizzical expression, “not in order to

mumbled:

mock you, as you put it. I apologized for

“Yr’xellency! If I dare disturb

when, as I sneezed, I sprayed you…I did

Yr’xellency it is only out of a feeling of…

not even think to mock you! Dare I laugh?

may I say, repentance!... It was not on

If we laugh, then, uh, any respect toward

purpose, as you yourself know!”

dignitaries… will be gone…”

The general’s face assumed a pained expression and he waved his hand. “But, my dear sir, you must be

“Get out!” suddenly barked the general, turning purple and shaking.

mocking me!” he said, disappearing behind

“What?” whispered Chervyakov,

the door.

growing weak in the knees from horror.

“What mockery?” thought

“Get out! ” the general repeated,

Chervyakov. “There’s no mockery

stomping his feet.

here at all! He’s a general and still can’t

Something ripped in Chervyakov’s

understand! If that’s the way it is, I won’t

stomach. Seeing nothing, hearing nothing,

keep apologizing to this braggart! Let the

he edged toward the door, walked out to

devil take him! I’ll write him a letter, but I

the street and trudged off. Arriving home

won’t come back! God knows I won’t!”

mechanically, he lay on the couch without

So thought Chervyakov as he

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taking off his uniform and… died.

walked home. He did not write a letter to

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CREATIVE WRITING

Стихи Yulia Alexandr Poem #2 Он, наверно, и знать-не знает, когда смотрит в мои глаза, что (нечаянно?) подрезает мои мощные тормоза и, сжимая мое плечо так, что тепло в животе искрит... превращает меня в девчонку, у которой моря внутри, в ту, что пишет стихи о лете, верит в карму и прочий джаз, носит чувства с собой (в секрете) и смущается каждый раз, когда кто-то, о ком все рифмы, спросит, как у неё дела. Прошлое — карандашный грифель:

He probably doesn’t even know that when he looks into my eyes, he (by chance?) makes me forget to brake and, squeezing my shoulder, sо that the warmth in my stomach sparkles… turns me into a little girl who has oceans inside of her -- into one who rhymes about summertime, believes in karma and other sorts of jazz; she carries feelings with her (secretly) and blushes every time he, the one her rhymes are about, asks her how she’s doing. The past is like a slate pencil:

Я однажды такой была. Только выросла, стала сильной (ну, пришлось, скажем так), смелей, в сердце был долгожданный штиль, но...

I used to be that girl. But I grew up, became stronger (well let’s say, I had to), bolder, reached a long-awaited calm in my heart, but then...

...он пришёл и назвал своей.

89 Spring 2019

The Birch

...he came around and called me his.

He, holding me in his arms tightly, Он, сжимая в объятьях туго, без effortlessly takes away my shield and труда отнимает щит, и моя self- my self-hand-made chain mail bursts hand-made кольчуга по невидимым at its invisible seams... and I’m scared швам трещит; и мне страшно, что that it will hurt, but still I stand there, будет больно, но стою, из осколков all in splinters... вся... God, please give me just a tiny drop of Боже, дай мне хоть каплю воли — will -- do not let me slip into the past. мне в былое никак нельзя.

The Birch

Spring 2019

Poem #3

Summer will be over, honey, dreams Лето кончится, солнце, мечты will die, умрут, Leaving a hole inside your chest. Оставляя дыру в груди. And on the roofs of houses so strange И по крышам домов, где тебя не to you now, ждут, The rain will start to drum. Барабанить начнут дожди. He, of course, will leave, embracing Он, конечно, уйдёт, обнимая ночь, the night, Волоча за собой закат. Dragging the sunset behind him. И ты сразу, конечно же, все And you will at once will understand: поймёшь: He will not be coming back. Больше он не придёт назад. And suddenly it will start burning, И внезапно зажжет, заболит внутри As if someone threw more wood into Будто кто-то подкинул дров. the fire. Эта осень заставит тебя из рифм This fall will have your building Строить щит от лихих ветров. A shield from rhymes against the wind. И посыпятся звезды с твоих небес, И разрушится мир вокруг... And the stars will fall from heavens, Ты поймёшь, что он вовсе не бог And the world will collapse around... тебе, You will realize that he is not a god to Не любовник, не муж, не друг. you, Not a lover, not a husband, not a friend. Он был рядом с тобою, чтоб ты могла He was with you so that you could Отыскать свой особый слог, Find your special writing style, Научится любить - и любить сполна, Learn to love -- and to love fully, Среди боли и между строк. Among the pain, between the lines, Не терять в себя веры - идти вперёд, Осознать, что ответ - в пути... Что пустыни, бураны и тонкий лёд Лишь причины себя найти...

To not lose faith in yourself -- go forth, Realize the answer is in the path... That deserts, storms and the thin ice Are only reasons to find yourself...

Он тебе о свободе, о жизни пел, О любви, что дана судьбой... Оттого ли глядишь ему долго вслед, Что он жизнь твою взял с собой? Что свобода твоя испарилась вмиг, Когда свой он ускорил шаг? О таком, дорогая, не пишут книг... Только ямбом. И чуть дыша.

He told you about freedom, he sang you of life, About the love from fate to us given... Is this why you watch as he walks away -Because he took your whole life with him?

91 Spring 2019

The Birch

Did your freedom dissipate The moment he increased his pace? Он был послан судьбою - сэнсэй, One does not write books about this, палач, dear, Как угодно теперь зови; Only poems, barely breathing, written Он тебе объяснил - сколько ты ни in iambic meter. прячь, И ни прячься... не скрыть любви, He was sent to you by fate -- Sensei, executioner, Как не скрыться от горечи и потерь, Call him now what you would like; От сквозящей дыры в груди, He explained to you: no matter how Когда в окна чужие тебе теперь you hide, Барабанят всю ночь дожди. Or do not hide... you cannot hide your love. As you cannot hide from bitterness, from loss, From the hole inside your chest... When in the windows so strange to you now The rain is drumming all the night.

The Birch

Spring 2019

Сказка – A Tale Liza Libes Сказка

A Tale

Попросила, очень мило Ваше мнения сказать. Упрекнула просто В том что сказки не любили. Голоса моего вам не хватило. Вот и все—мы разошлись. Попросила отзыв— А вы всё прячетесь, молчите: Видно ненависть безумная научила Ловко напрягаться и лгать.

An endearing plea For your opinion; A simple accusation of Neglecting fairytales. For you my voice could never be Enough. So there you have it, We have split. A simple note of recognition? You were always locked away, Studying some frenzied hatred, Skilfully to strain yourself, to lie.

Скажите, это вы решили, Так спонтанно, В мгновение букву написать. В этот день мне подарили шутку (жестокую) С счастьем вы решили поиграть. Ничего такого не сказали. Стенки мне и так передают привет. Я на вас глядела, Чувство ваше я читала— Бессердечный только был ответ.

Tell me, was it perchance Your decision, In a moment, so erratic, To greet me with a letter, lo, surprise? You gifted me this mockery, (So cruelly) Presupposing a flirtation With my final happiness. I should have known you wouldn’t Sever ties with silence; The walls say more in lieu of a hello. I stare perusing All of your opinions, And the heartlessness that came of your reply.

Как сказать, Дела не очень. Это вы пришли мириться? Страшно мысль любую показать. И видать вам больно... Восхищенная могу я с вами поболтать (Вам не на вы? Ну так уж быть!) И кто из нас тут потрезвее? Я много выучила от вас. Оказывается нам ошибки не прощают! Но видать, те кто делают ошибки Вот именно они—ой, мой маленький кошмар! Страдать всегда легко, А попроси меня как жить! Только может глупый человек. (Это я наверное стащила от Толстого. Слишком элегантно для меня звучит сейчас.) Могущество не может быть для всех. Всегда я знала ты ведь бросишь... Ты просишь все-таки мое прощение? Простить тебя—это улыбка. И я когда-то буду сильной— И может попрошу чтоб ты простил меня.

How should I say, I am not well. Have you arrived to reunite your thoughts with mine? I live in fear of manifesting feelings. Oh, and so you have been hurt… A dialogue of us shall be delightful. (Formality too keen? Well now you see!) Which one of us is more the sober? I have taken many lessons from your tongue.

93 Spring 2019

The Birch

It appears mistakes are seldom Overlooked. But to see that the mistakened, Simply they—oh, my little horrid dream! Suffering has always come too easy, But ask me now how I must live! You must inquire of the fool. (Quite possibly I lifted that from Tolstoy, It came out phrased too well, too elegant.) The mighty cannot be so omnipresent. I always knew that thereof you were able… And so you’ve come to seek out my forgiveness? Forgiving you—that’s just a smile. But someday when I find the strength in me— Well maybe then I’ll ask you to forgive me too.

Spring 2018

Spring 2019

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