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HarvardUkrainianStudies ,no. – (–): –.

An EmpireofSubstitutions: The Language Factor in theRussian Revolution MH G. SH

Russian culturedoesnot live foritself alone.Ithas thegreat calling to serveas bearer and nurturer of thetens of young national cultures of ourUnion. —D.Iuzhin (1930) TH RURSH RUSSER and theSovietUnion displayed a remarkably successful capacity to governinand throughlanguage, to exploit itsstrengthsand weaknesses,its varietiesofwords and grammars,inorder to maintain power over thepolitical spaces they have calledeither Rossiia,orthe , or Evraziia.This is thelanguage factor in theera of thethree Russian revolutions,encompassing some twenty-five years.Inthe first revo- lution of , theconspirators within theRussian SocialDemocratic Labor Party(RSDLP) laid claim to theinheritanceofthe tsaristempire. In thesecond revolution of ,the radical politicians of itsBolshevik faction createda hybrid “nationality”state.Inthe “greattransformation”after ,the Stalinists within thePolitburoset out to modernize whole cultures and economies. They did all of this primarily by wayofthe , althoughsometimes in reciprocal relations with itsneighboring languages, both of whichwere alwayswoven into complexhistories and policies. Throughvariousadvances and retreats,the Russian language displayed aunique resilienceand strategic presence, growing stronger as an imperial relation. The Russian Empireand Soviet Union, so this storyteaches us,werenever anyone thing.Their power layintheir dynamism, their ability to forgeuni- formity throughmultiplicity:tobe, or pretend to be,one thing and many other things. The empirebeganasmultinational (Rossiia), not as ethnic Russia(Rus´), thoughitdependedonitsethnic core tosurvive and govern. Both empireand union wereadept at whatJane Burbank and Markvon Hagen have called: “multiple variantness” (mnogovariantnost´), whichmeant impos- ing “flexible, non-uniform, and inconsistentgovernancetoaccommodate the  SH coexistenceofamultiplicity of social arrangements within asingle state.”This wasa“technology of ruling Russia” by wayof“thesimultaneoususe of different registers forruling differentregions and differentpeople.” In this imperial project, therewas perhapsnomoreimportant,nomoreflexible and exploit- ative (and sometimestreacherous) register than language. Russian stateleaders owedpartoftheir success to their useofwords,spe- cifically their application of thecreative (and destructive) power of metaphor: apowerofsubstitutions.By“substitutions” Imeanseveral processes: first,how theUSSRstate inherited and “took theplace”ofthe Russian Empireinboth literal and figurative ways;second, how it co-opted and adaptedthe imperial “national problem”torevolutionarypurposes;and third, how it exchanged moregenuine nations forhybridones, displaced thenational formoreimperial aims.Inall suchways, theseleaders understood language as a “factor”(faktor) or technology of rule. Theyofferedlanguage rights to thevariousnationalities as anecessaryand benevolentcompromise,but ultimatelyonly as asubstitu- tion fortheir owntruecivil societiesand representative democracies. They conceded theexistential functions and ontologicalforms of national languages, but without theparticipatory “idea” of thenation. Language wasameans,not an end, theway of political calculation, not thesum of self-determination. To elucidatethese trends, Ipropose anew interpretivesemanticsor“metaphorics” of Soviet power.This means investigating language politicsand change through theactualwords that stateadministrators used, that we still use today. After all, we alwaysmakeall our substitutions in and throughwords.Their language factor,inthissense, remains our own.

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The first substitution relates to legacies:how theSoviet Union deliberatelytook theplace of theRussian Empire, primarily throughthe violentinterventions of the revolution and civilwar.Anumber of impressive studieshaveconfirmedthe continuity,withawise comparative approach,weighing similaritiesand differ- ences.Wenow betterunderstand how both of these states commandedtheir nationality parts as agents or collaborators;orhow they sought to civilize and modernize them, or alternatelydiscipline and punish them; or how they both identified and named, counted, and described them. Both were “nationality states,” notnation-states on theFrenchorGerman models,but morelikethe Habsburgmultiethnic empire. These studiesofferfresh newperspectivesover time, breaking out of our isolating academic specialties, all to betterrecognize whatwas shared and whatwas not. The risk of writingabout legacies involvesaquestion of scale,ofcourse. Spacedefeats us,inthe verysizeand scopeofthe Russian EmpireorSoviet Union, as in themapsand charts we makeof“its” languagesorpeoples, which R  SUSUS  reproduceand reifythe veryrelations of empirethatweclaim to objectively study.Theprocess tendstomagnifythe Russian and minimize the “national,” ahistoriographical syndrome that locksour subjects andour arguments into center and peripheries, theone and themany, thebig and thesmall. In studying theempireorunion, we inevitably became imperial and statisttoo,enjoying all theprestige of thebig,avoiding all theprovincialism of thesmall. We ought not to exaggerate influence. Reading backwards, theempirewas not theunion. Language helpsustospotlight thedifferences.TheRussian Muscoviteand imperial states were, in asense, prepositional. We seethisinthe veryplace namesofits expansion: alwaysmoving “toward” or “at”or“through” aseriesofgeographical salients:the Pribaltika and Ukraina,the Zakavkaz and Povol´zhe.Theseweresubstitutions.Wealsosee them in theverylabels that the Tsariststate appliedtothe newpeopleswithwhom it came into contactatits inner and outer edges: people “at that other land”(tuzemtsy,or“outlanders”), people “of that other birth”(inorodtsy,or“aliens”). All of these termswere generics, substituting one name formanynames, collapsing multiplicity into unity.Tsaristagents subjectedthe term inorodtsy to even moresubstitutions, awhole sweepofmeanings. It wasoriginally usedbyMoscow to describe the “littlepeoples” of ,anestateofthe realm owing servicetoitand deserving some privilegesinreturn. But thetermcametomeanalmostall of thesmall “minority”peoplesinhabiting theRussian Empire. By theturnofthe century,inawidening spiral of naming and self-reference, imperial agents and teachers,missionariesand nationality leaders,wereall referring to theethnic peoplesofthe westernand easternborderlandsas“aliens.”  The geographical salients of inorodtsy wereattheedgesofthe “ethnic Rus- sian homeland”(korennaia Rus´). Henceits self-representations as agreat circular state, be it acityorprincipality,tsardom or empire. Leonid Gorizontov hasframedthe empireasacirclewithin acircle: theimperialRussian ethnic core at theSlavichomeland and theouter circleofits farthest expansion. Landscapes and ethnic typesmarkedthe boundaries, as forexample where theforestendedand thesteppes began, or wherethe Russian peasantmor- phedintothe Kalmyk nomad. Language separatedthe circular frontiers as well, whereeven theMuscovite dialect standardlostits forceatKursk, where Russian speakers lost almost all comprehension among theMariorKazakhs. The infamousminister of theinterior and russifier Petr Valuevsaw theempire as just sucha“circular” state(okruzhnost´), joinedbythe centripetalforces holding it together and the “centrifugaltendencies” constantlythreatening it. To Gorizontov’sconcentric pair,then, we ought to add hundredsofintersecting inner and outer circles:the city and countryside dialectswithin theRussian literarylanguage (itself an overarching standard) and themanylanguagesand dialects(both writtenand spoken) of theethnic peopleswithin and just beyond theempire. In itsspacesand sounds, Russian wasaringedstate of rings.  SH

LinesofRussification and nativization, of unification and differentiation, intersectedthese imperial circles.Bythe time of thefirst of , thetsarist statehad craftedand tested avariety of Russification pol- icies. Theybeganwithaforward and patriotic “officialnationality”after the Napoleonic wars and Nikolaevanregime of theearly s. Theypeakedwith acoercive “Russification”(obrusenie), largelyinreaction to localnationalisms (likePoland) and foreignthreats (likeGermany), afterthe s. Theyevolved to amoreconciliatoryRussification toward the end of theempire. These are butthree types. To be precise,wewould need to multiply them by their times and places between thesand s, between theBalticsand , and Siberia,factoring in thestrategies and tacticsofany one policy- maker in anygiven situation. From theimperialpointofview, anyofthese Russifications needed to succeed justenough, at theright times, in thetargeted places,toserve multivariant imperial interests. We would also be wrong to separate these strands, forthe coercion enabledthe conciliation, alternating prohibitions with accommodation, violencewithrecognition. Russification had averyrealpresenceinthe literal linesofsettlementinto thewestern borderlands, into theCaucasus(theMugan steppe), and into Central Asia and Siberia.Thehundredsofthousandsof“through-settlers” (pereselentsy,another prepositional) literally made their wayintothe border- landsofempirealong steppesand rivers,highwaysand railroads, with state patronage and support, bringing theRussian language with them, or something closetoit(in their hundredsoflocal dialects), simultaneouslybinding and loosening theRussian language along theway. The power and prestige of theRussian imperial stateand itslanguage also attractedacritical mass of nationality agents,often bilingualPolish,Baltic-German, or Armenian agents serving throughout theempire, who werebound to thesystem, out of fear or respectorameasureofboth, and prosperedenoughfromitall theway to the startofWorld WarI. The coercive variantofRussification (in theformofadministrative decrees, prohibitions,censorships) wasafunction of thetsariststate’s senseofplace andprivilege forthe “GreatRussian”language and cultureinahierarchyof evolving languages; of itsneed to either divide or unitesome of thelanguages and dialectsbeneathit, so as to guarantee itsown priority.For the “autocracy” (samoderzhavnost´) to retain itslegitimaciesand advantagesathome and abroad, it needed to constantlyaffirmits “greatpower”(velikoederzhavnost´) mentality and status.Yet manyrussifiers understood thepractical need to compromise in some waywiththe ethnic particular in order to promotethe ethnic universal (Russian). Nikolai Il´minskiiwas thefounder of one of the most prominentstate-sponsored concessionaryapproaches,asystemofreli- giousconversion and education forthe Volga-Uralspeoples(theMariand Chuvash) and eventually forthe Kazakh too. Hisrivalsappliedablunt “sound” R  SUSUS  modelofforcing spoken Russian upon these minority ethnic students.He basedteaching on newphonetic ,native-language primers and grammars,and cadres of native teachers.Totruly possessafaith, to sense and know it as one’sown,required thesounds and signs of one’sown language. Teachers needed to reachstudents first in thenative tongue, to diagramitas alexical and grammatical foundation forlearning Russian. The native wasan essential conduit toward Russian, an imperative at theheart of laterSoviet nationality policiesaswell. Il´minski’s conciliatorymethods werehardly impartial. He meantthem to create alinguistic wedge within theVolga-Uralspeoplesand do battle with hisgreat rival, theCrimean TatarIsmail Bey Gasprinskiiwho had also mobilizedlinguisticsand language teaching,but to bring theTurkicmasses up to anew national language community of their own, under Tatarrather than Russian hegemony. His “newmethod” (usul­i )was an initiative in linguistic democracy, to bettermatch theteaching and printing of theTurkic languages(whichwereinacommon Arabic script) to nativephonetics—the actual soundsofspeakers.Gasprinski’s ultimate goal wastoraise themasses, throughtheir owndialectsand languages, to acommon “Turkic”(Turki). This goal floundered,though, as hisbestfollowers promoted locallanguagesinstead: GalimdzhanIbragimov,for one, craftedamodified Arabic script forKazan Tatar; M. A. Shahtakhtinskii, amodifiedArabic script and even anew Latin alphabetfor Azerbaijani. These latter linguistic methodswerethe foundations forarenaissancein national literarycultures at theturnofthe century.They helped give rise to national political movements,fortifiedbythe newmanufacturing and com- modity markets;the railroads,telegraph, and telephone lines; and thevarious printmedia (books and newspapers) that now crisscrossed European and Asian Russia. Thankstoall of these,the imperial salients werealready becoming more likenation-states in formation. Just as thearcsofinorodtsy wereexpanding at theperipheriesofempire, they seemedtoexplode into dozens of newnational circles.Theimperialcensusofrecognized these trends. It set out to take ameasureofthe empire’speoplesand parts,but found it in some distress. The Ukrainian people, still countedas“LittleRussians” (malorossy), who spokewhat Russian linguistsand politicians understood to be aconstituentdialect of the “GreatRussian language,”wererising in numbers and national consciousness. Avariety of Muslim and mostly Turkic peopleswererising too, whatimperial agents now paired as a “pan-Islamic”and “pan-Turkic”threat. The “Great ” (velikorossy), numbering but percent of thetotal population, seemedbesieged. The national, rather than theestateorconfessional, was becoming thedom- inantmodeofpolitical discourse, as found in anumberofvenues: thepolitical charters forautonomyand federalism during and afterthe revolution; and  SH thedebates by nationality representativesinthe Dumasbetween and  forfuller democratic and national rights. The nationalitieswereengagedin whatanalystsofthe time called “national construction”(natsional´noestroi­ tel´stvo), meaning the “crystallization”and “differentiation”ofnew linguistic and national communitieswithin theempire. Yetthe tsaristempirewas not necessarily doomedbythistrend. Educators and administrators understood that Russian imperial integration wasfailing in theMuslim “east”(Central Asia)thankstoanoverwhelming language barrier. Most of itsloyal “Russian Muslims” (russkiemusul´mane)did not understand Russian. The empireneeded to go deep.Thesolution wastobridge language communitieswithaneducational system forthe parallellearning of languages, not only with moreindividual translators but with awhole newcultureof translation: reciprocal translations in thepress and publications,along with native and Russian learning in theschools. Imperial agents now put their faith in anew kind of Russification policy: nationality “assimilation”(sblizhenie). This term suggested not forced identity or equivalencebut akind of functional uni- formity,adrawing together centered on thenative and theRussian language. It meantpromoting thenative language as the “single best conduit”to“unite thenative tribes within thestreamofall-Russian civilization.”One publicist discussedall of this in termsofanecessary “accommodation”(prisposoblenie) between theRussian stateand itslocal peoples, to betterintegrate them into a “common home” (obshchezhitie), centered on the “gradual”and cooperative dissemination of theRussian language. The pointwas not “to makeethnic Russians” (russkie)but create new “inter-relations” between “civicRussians” (rossiiskie). The radicalswithin theRSDLP and itsBolshevik nucleus wereone unin- tendedlegacy of these imperial Russification policies. Even when tsaristagents appliedeithercoercive or conciliatorypoliciesto“assimilate” thenationalities, they underminedtheir veryown purposesbyturning their veryown language of imperial rule into alanguage of opposition. The Bolsheviks not only inher- ited thebroad resultsofRussification (thoughtheytookeveryopportunity to criticizethem), they were itsresults. Their partywas classically rossiiskaia,and they wereinsignificantcases russifiednationality representativeseducated in thestate-sponsored schools. Like otherpoliticians,the Bolsheviks used their masteryofRussian to advancepolitical agendas,speaking to each other and to ethnic Russians in an ideology that was “classuniversalist but Russian inflected”—in other words, “Russophone.” Yettheycould also speaktotheir ownnational groupsintheir native languages, disseminating ideology and conspiracyalong theway.These Bolshevikelites enjoyedthisraredoubling power.After ,itwas doubledagain, from subversion within theempireto anew order among theSovietterritories.Yet forminority-nationality Bolshe- viks,Russian washardly aneutral means of communication. It wassomething R  SUSUS  moredetached and utilitarian, their wayoflearning thewritingsofKarlMarx or CharlesDarwin, or thepoliticalidioms of Vladimir Lenin. The Russian language wastheiressential instrumentofrepresentation and eventually rule, a complexlanguage of symbols, empowering theBolsheviksaseducated,mobile, and predatory. Their personal and professional trajectorieswerealwaysaway from theperipheriestowardthe center:russophone meantrussophile and russocentric. Twoleading Bolsheviks,Vladimir Ulianov and Iosif Dzhugashvili, demand abit moreattention. We know them betteras“Lenin”and “Stalin,”two more substitutions.Thoughtheir positions became dominantafter ,atfirst their platformsweremerelytwo variations upon arichand vibrantpolitical ground. Lenin’s ideas,for example, offer an enlightening comparisonwiththe writingsofthe linguist and activistJan Baudouin de Courtenay. ForLenin, born and raisedintoRussian, language wassomething simple, both personally and politically.Itwas essentialand categorical, areflection of therealworld and thereforecoincidentand translatable with it.Itwas themostreliable means by whichpeople identifiedthemselves, and states markedthem, in time and space. Hence: Lenin’s and Bolshevism’s preferencefor native-language rights within state “national-territorial autonomy.”For Baudouin, language wasmuchmore complex. It could be both wonderfully liberating and terribly confining.He warned against governments using language to measureand identifypeople, to markand reducethem. In themultilingualand multiconfessional societ- iesofthe , it made betterand fairer sensetolocatelanguage rights in individualsand small communities, not in state-recognizedgroupsor whole territories.Hewas,therefore(following Otto Bauer and KarlRenner), an advocate of extra-territorial, “national-cultural autonomy” (if with some national-territorial options), meaning therightsofindividualstochoose and use their ownlanguagesatwill within afreer civiccommunity. The spaces between Lenin and Baudouin matter. Theyspotlight achasm between ideology and democracy. Stalin’s ownapproach tothe nationalitieshad itscontemporaryalternative in thewritingsand activitiesofMammad Emin Resulzade, Azerbaijani social democrat and nationalist.Stalin’s “Marxism and theNational Question”() and Resulzade’sessays on nationalism () matched well enough: defining the nation as abond of language and ethnicity,community and territory,history and sometimesreligion. Both valuedlanguage as thecorecomponentofthe national, one of itscentral “terms” (cherty)and “signs” (priznaki). Both men werepositionedsquarelywithin theRussian Empire, seeking thegrounds foramoreliberal “national-territorial autonomy.”TheRussian statewas to become ademocratic federal republic,whatResulzade calledanew “build- ing”(zdanie), an architecture of parts withinwhich each nationality would find an honorable place(each in a “room”orkomnata all itsown). Afterthe SH

Russian revolution of ,several of Stalin’s alliesturnedthismetaphor into theinfamous “communal apartment.”So, their words werealmost thesame. Yetthe meaningsand purposes werecompletelydifferent. Stalin wasalready thinking from thecenter, about how to governanew kind of state, dependent on language (Russian and non-Russian) as atoolordiscrete “form”ofthe proletarian imperial. Resulzade wasthinking forwardabout how to rule from an independentnation, with Azerbaijani Turkic as themarkerofidentity and destiny. Forhim, language wasboththe “external form and internal world”of thenation, aforum forthe civicnational.

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The second substitution involvesaquestion of surrogacies, thewaysbywhich Soviet party-state leaders co-opted and reconfigured the “national question” forworld revolution. WorldWar Iand theRussian revolution, culminating in theBolshevik coup of October,transformedthe political landscapes, revealing thenew mobilizing power of ethnicity and language: in armies, mili- tias,and political partiesonthe ground; or in categoriesofenemyaliens;orin prisonersofwar and in displacedpersons.Theravagesofmilitaryinvasion and occupation drew Russians together in battlefront advances;orjoinedPolesand in defenseand counterattack; or shaped Russians and Armenians in Christian allianceagainst theMuslim Turks. Politicsnow happenedbetween combatants and besiegedcivilians who did not necessarily look or actthe same but who usually spoke(or sometimesprayed) alike. Language was themedium that enabledanew politicsofwartime ethnicity. The Bolsheviks inherited theempire’smobilizedethnicities, along with its “root”or“radical problems” (korennyevoprosy): problems with women andwithpeasants,withreligiousand with nationalitygroups, and how to betterintegrate them into public life. But theBolsheviksalso refittedthese problems forthe Russian and world revolutions.HenceStalin’s rather strange formulaofequivalences,really aset of substitutions: “thepeasantquestion is a national question is acolonial question.” Thisideologicalformula predicated Bolsheviksuccess upon several broadinitiatives. One wastoturn “backward” (otstalye)peasants into modernRussians,toreach out to thealien “locale” (mest´) and bring it closertothe center(tsentr). Another initiative was to gradually assimilatethe “backward” nationalitiesintoamodernist all-, to drawthe rural “borderlands” (okraina)closertothe center.Athird initiative, dependentonthesuccess of thefirst two, wastopromoterevolution abroad, especially in thecolonial east,wherethe oppressedrural and ethnic masses werealso readying forrevolution. All of these newagents of historical change weresurrogatesfor theabsentRussian proletariat,ofcourse, and helped to turntheir spokesman, Stalin, into Lenin’s ultimate surrogate and successor. R  SUSUS 

The first Soviet state, theRussian Soviet FederatedSocialist Republic (RSFSR), was not an empire, by itsown definition. But it was still “civicRussian” (rossiiskaia), and in itsfederal structurewas initially composedofthe empire’s provincialunits, eventually also composed of nationality autonomousrepublics and regions (the Tatar-Bashkirwas thefirst in ), and with all varieties of recognized “national minorities” (natsional´nyemenshinstva), each with formal and attractive rights for “native language” (rodnoi iazyk)development. As liberal and progressive as these initiativesmight seem, they werelittle morethan areturntothe statusquo ante bellum:tothe late imperial callsfor some kind of autonomousfederalism and consensual assimilation to revive theRussian state. The novelty of this newRussiawas in itsmostcreative territorial and linguistic substitutions.Thetsaristempire, we have seen, was prepositional (geographic,rounded, and dynamic). The RSFSRwas morenominal and appo- sitional (constitutional, squared, and static). It wasdefinedbyits formalities and forms, by nouns bearing names(nominals) and by accompanying nouns renaming them (appositionals): Russian, soviet and federated, socialist and republic.Ispotlight theRSFSR—reduced to itsown stub, eresefeser by popular usage, another substitution—because it came first in .Itwas theinspi- ration forrenaming theBolshevik Partyasthe Russian Communist Partyof Bolsheviks (RKP[b]), yetanother substitution. It waswhatthe new regime and RedArmykilledand diedfor in thecivil war. The RSFSRwas also themodel forhow thecoming Union of Soviet Socialist Republics(USSRoreseseser) organizedits federal parts and wholes, itslesserand betterportions.Its Peo- ple’sCommissariatfor theNationalities(Narkomnats), agovernmentbody that wasadministrative rather than deliberative, wasthe modelfor thelarger andequally bureaucratic USSRNationalitiesCouncil of theCentral Executive Committee(TsIK). The Azerbaijani case isagain instructive. Forashorttime, concurrent with thefirst years of theRSFSR, an independentrepublic ruledthere: theAzerbai- jani Democratic Republic (ADR,–).Wetend to read thesovereignstates of thecivil warperiodascounterfactuals,somehow comical or false,besetby anarchy. Yettheywererealalternatives, either livedorpromised. The ADR’s promotions of theAzerbaijani language in thegovernment, media, and schools, definedas“turkification”(tiurkifiktasiia), with thegoalofreducing Russian to merelyone of anumber of foreignlanguages, wererevolutionarypossibilities compared to thelater Soviet model. Azerbaijani leaders also sought to create agenuine linguistic democracy, joining thefreewordwiththe ideaofafree nation, centeredoncivic participation and pluralism. Resulzade calledthisa political system “synonymous” with itsown peoples. The national wasabout being,not about seeming. When theBolshevik regime and theRed Army invadedand occupiedthe  SH countryinApril,theyoverthrewalegitimate governmentand established anew proxyregime: theAzerbaijani “Soviet Socialist Republic”(azeseser), thefirst of itskind in alonger line to come. It wasindependentdejure, but lockedbytreatyand de factocontrol to theRSFSR,soonfoldedintothe new USSRstate,and foratime into theTranscaucasianSovietFederatedSocialist Republic (teesefeser). Within its “jurisdiction”(likeother union and autono- mous republics) werethe Nakhchivan AutonomousSovietSocialist Repub- lic,the Nagorno-Karabakh Autonomous “Region”and even aKurdistanskii “District,”along with hundredsoflessercouncilsand villagesand schoolsfor Armenian, Lezgin, and Talysh “national minorities.”Thenew statealso enjoyed itsveryown Azerbaijani Communist PartyofBolsheviks(AKP[b]), by form independentbut in reality ruledfromthe Transcaucasus Regional Committee (Zakraikom) of theRKP(b), under ’s locallead, Moscow’s man in Baku. Whatadizzying newhierarchyoftoponymsfromabove, all to replace Resulzade’s “synonym”frombelow.Therewas something almost magical to all of this,asifthe Soviet regime could simply name places and people into existence, objects of pureform, each with itsown acronym. With theRSFSR and USSR, with theRKP(b)and itsaffiliates,and with all these placenames, we arecertainly not in theRussian Empireanymore. But we arestill very much in theimperial, in anew and complexSovietset of imperial relations.It amountedtoacomplexprocess of naming,ofidentification and categorization, of locking places and people into setsand subsetsofother places and people. The empireofsubstitutions wasbynecessity an empireofrepetitions,bound to theverymultiple nationalitiesaround ethnic Russia. Butinall these cases, thenational wasdescriptive morethan constitutive. Closelyrelated to thesenew formal nameswereaseriesofgeneric labels or hypernymsfor thenationalities, termsthatgathered themanyintoone and turned multiplicitiesintounities. We might also call them falseuniversals, unitiesthatonly made senseinthe isolated imperial universeofthe USSR.For example, partyand stateleaders replaced thenegative “aliens” (inorodtsy)with amoreneutral “other nationalities” (inonatsional´nosti)by, thepreferred term of use into thes. It matched betterwiththe newconstitutional met- aphor of theSovietregime as a “socialist fatherland,”one that gave birth to a new “family”(rod)or“brotherhood”ofpeoples, astaple of Bolshevikliberation ideology.ThePeople’sCommissariatofEducation (NarkomprosRSFSR)also createdafascinating newcatch-all label, “people of thenon-Russian language” (narody nerusskogo iazyka), soon reduced to theall-inclusive and manageable “non-Russians”(nerusskie). These termsweremeant to be neutraland objec- tive. Yettheycollapsedvariety and autonomyunder statecontrol. Therewas also aconstanttrend to the diminutive and pejorative. Soviet publicists inventedanefficientifrather insulting shorthand: “natslangs” (nats­ R  SUSUS  iazyki)for thenationality languages, “bashlang”(bashiazyk)for theBashkir language, or kir´iazyk forKirgiz,and dagiazyki forthe manylanguagesof . Termslikethe “national throngs” (natsionalnye nizi)orthe “locals” (mestnie)werecommon. The category “national minorities” (natsional´nye menshinstva)referredtoaspecific kind of non-Russian, someone living in a larger majority-nationality territory,thoughpublicists oftenusedittorefer to anynon-Russian anywhere, enoughtoeventually becomethe common and derogatory natsmen. Publicists oftenreferred to the nationalitiesas “outlanders” (tuzemtsy). In one article alone, forexample, we canreadofthe “outlander population,” and the “outlander working masses,”and the “outlander half-proletarianmasses.”  It was as if thewriterwas drawing from anomencla- ture system of interchangeable parts.Inmoments of stressand hatred,Russians could also call up anyofanumber of termsofabuse,racialslurs utteredunder one’sbreathorbehind thescenes, thoughnever in print. Beyond these names, another older usage became morewidespread: the nominalization of verbal forms, especially by joining anoun (often aforeign word) with thesuffix “ization”(-izatsiia). The Russian Revolution sawaflood of theseforms in theofficialidiom (party and statedocumentsand themedia): termslike intesifikatsiia, proletarizatsiia,and sovetizatsiia.They werepart of broader Soviet preferencefor nominalizations in syntax,all to lock read- ers and listeners into fixed ideologicalmeanings, accentuating conformity, inevitability,and thetotality of completion. In earlynationality policy, the favoritetermofuse was “nationalization”(natsionalizatsiia), or morepar- ticularly suchderivativesasUkrainization or Tatarization or Uzbekification. These meantthe promotion of native languagesinthe schoolsand media, as well as thepromotion of nationality representativesintothe Soviet partyand stateadministration. Democratic in principle, nationalization washardly so in practice. Often it wasmoreabout reducing rather than raising thenation, as in thecaseof whatwas calledthe “differentiation”(differentsiatsiia)ofthedialect groups and classstrata within anational language community.This wasall about demarcating thelower working classes in national life, along with their popular dialects, and distinguishing them as newparty and statecadres,against the established “nationalist bourgeoisie.” Oncedifferentiated,the Soviet regime marshaledthese communitiesfor the “realization”(realizatsiia)oftheir native languagesinnational life. Thisterm, whichdated back to thebureaucratic initiativesofthe GreatReforms of thes, meantpreparing these cadres forthe apparat, througheducation in theschools and throughpromotion into theworkplace. “Realization”ofalanguage demandedthe parallel “translation” (perevod)ofadministrative “paperwork” (deloproizvodstvo)fromthe Russian into thenative language (and sometimesbackagain). It meantrelegating the nationality language to filesand folders. Both “differentiation”and “realiza- SH tion”had less to do with democracy, and morewiththe newdemography of identifyingand counting both socialand nationalgroupings. These wereterms of administrative practice, not self-government. The NarkomprosRSFSR was essential in theseprocesses of nationalization, differentiation, and realization. Itsscholars and linguistswereresponsible forearmarkingthe lower dialectsfor promotion in scriptsand grammars, theschools and printcultures.Its administrators and educators createdthe curriculums forlanguage education, oftendefinedasthe “differential method” and “comparative approach,” meaning acalibratedstratagem as to when and how to transfer instruction from thenative language to Russian. These policies established thenational languagesinthe grade schoolsand mediaoutlets, but never beyond acertain ceiling.Thenative language, in essence, wasoften littlemorethan avehicle (ortemporarysubstitution) foreventual proficiency in Russian. Narkomproswas also notorious, in one of themostsignificant substitutions of them all, fordefining educational and cultural policiesnot just forthe RSFSRbut forthe whole USSR. The sourcesrevealaconstantblending and mixing of thetwo states:for example, administrators appliedblanket terms likethe “national borderlands” (natsional´nyeokrainy)or“natsregions of the Soviet East”(natsraionakh Sovetskogo Vostoka)inreferring to all non-Russian territories everywhere. Such terms made no sense, of course, outside of the imperial universeofthe USSR. Amid all of these appositionalsand nominals, theregime also revivedanew kind of prepositional power,muchmoreforcefulthan anything late imperial agents ever attempted. Bolshevikideologues now appliedthe perfective aspect in ,joining prepositions to verbsofmotion, in avariety of essential terms: “involvement” (vovlechenie), “attraction”(privlechenie), “draw- ing together”(priblizhenie), “assimilation”(sblizhenie), “absorption”(vtiago­ vanie)and “promotion”(vydvizhenie). These weresignal termsbridging theearliest years of Soviet power with the lateryears of theStalinist “great transformation.”They threadedpolitical manifestosand partytranscripts, educational tracts and newspaperarticles. The prepositions and perfective aspectsinthese nouns werethe perfectexpressions of theSovietregime’s ideologicalmission forthe nationalities, of itsmobilizing power and reach. Theyweremeant to unitethe peripheriesand their peoplestothe Soviet state apparatus, to theRussian proletariat,toMoscow’s control. Theyrepresented intransigentexpectations and inevitable outcomes. Theywereanew grammar of transformative change, metaphors about thecertainty of stateunification in spaceand over time. At times, forthe fullest effect, writers even joinedthe perfective aspect with thenominalizedverb, as in thecaseofthe demand for the “drawing together [priblizhenie]ofthe stateapparatustothe localpop- ulation by wayofthe realization [realizatsiia]ofthe native language.” Such phrases offered no choices,onlypredetermined results. Theycomprisedan idiom of patronageand benevolence, not independenceand self-determination. R  SUSUS 

We canreturntoAzerbaijan to surveysome of theeffectsofthese policies and to remind us of how people experienced them on theground in their very lives. Here, as in other parts of theUSSR, themajoritiesofethnic peoples alwaysspoke theirnativelanguagesthroughthese years.Thenational language remainedalatent, cultural-intellectualcapital: in how people talked asbefore; or in how they represented their speechinnew alphabets and grammars and themostbasic of printcultures.Yet in AidynBalaev’sjudiciousperspective, we arestill dealing with negativesand absences.Thenative language was under theconstantpressureofshortage and meager result.TheAzerbaijani literary language failedtodevelop along morenatural paths, lostits Persian and Turkic words,and acquired Russian ones, turning it into something less than truly Azerbaijani. Moscow deprivedthe language community of genuine national leaders,offullertruth in afreepress and creative literature. The native language becameathreadbarecurrency, good only locally:inhomesand schools, in pro- vincialtowns and rural areas, in departmentsoflanguagesand literatures. The Russian language, on theother hand, became acurrencyofconsiderable value, enjoying aprestige without limits, good everywhereinthe USSRand among all people who knew it.Russian enjoyedthe inherentvalue of thesingular,of theabove and in between, as against theplurality and equality of everything else “not Russian”(nerusskii).

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The thirdsubstitution points to aseriesofdependencies, how already in the “liberal”s, an imperial Soviet power superseded thenational parts within it.TheAzerbaijani case study again offers perspective. Beginning in ,the veryyearthatSoviet “national policy” premiered on thepolitical stage, thecommunist partylaunchedtwo focusedattacks against thenational- communist leaders Nariman Narimanov and EyyubKhanbudagov as purveyors of national “deviations” (uklony). These campaigns wereclosely related to the attack on theKazan TatarcommunistMir Said Sultan Galiev, who had lev- eragedhis own “national”leadership over theanticolonial revolution in the “east.” Each of these men now namedand criticized Moscow’s nationality policiesassomething false,assubstitutions,and littlemorethan screens for central control: “nationalization”asakind of Russification. The Azerbaijani SSRwas not acenterofits own, Narimanov argued,but remainedaperiphery to Moscow,especially underStalin’s and SergoOrdzhonikidze’srussifying policies. Khanbudagov spotlighted how the “natives” weresopoorlyrepre- sented in meaningfuleducational, management, and governmentalroles. Both understood that theNationalitiesCouncil of TsIK,orthatnationality territories and native-language concessions (tiurkifikatsiia), did not makethe “nation.” The ideaand practiceofanation mattered. True revolutionaryprogressmeant theself-determination and sovereigntyofits speakers.  SH

These critiquesofearly Soviet nationality policiesmay have found their most poignantconfirmation in an unlikelyplace:the statepolicy of “” (korenizatsiia)thatgradually replaced nationalization into thelater s, with full effectinthe cultural revolution and thepoliciesofcollectivization and industrialization after.Scholars tend to use korenizatsiia retrospectively, to mean thelinguistic and administrative policiesofthe veryearly s, or even thewholeseventy years of theSoviet regime. The term underliesthe elegant multilingualmapsofthe USSR, or itsorderly charts of nationality territories. It framesthe USSRasthatneutral and hopeful “stateofnations” foundedinthe earlysand revivedinthe laters. Yetinits origins and most significantmeanings, korenizatsiia is arather small and confining term. The best evidencereveals,asTerry Martin first noted,thatitcame into wide- spreaduse only in thelater s. We will never be able to find theveryfirst spoken use of theterm;thatwill remain one of language’sgreat mysteries. But I have found at leastone of itsfirst public usesinOctoberof, in theleading journal of theSovietstate administration, appropriatelytitled Soviet Power (Vlast´ sovetov). Bureaucrats deriveditfromanimperialadministrative phrase, the “nativepopulation”(korennoenaselenie), first appliedtothe “little” Siberian tribes but expandedunder Soviet bureaucrats to all ethnic groups. It wasa tsaristthrowback,referring to these distantpeoplesasindigenes, objects of political promotion and assimilation, or of academic study,something likethe aboriginesofAustraliaorthe Amazon. When we use theterm, especially in itsanthropologicalsenseas“indigenization,”wereplicatethisRussian statism and orientalism, we diminish thenationalities. In our ownact of substitution, we take thepart, korenizatsiia,for thewhole, Soviet nationality policy. Sometime in themiddle s, some unknownSoviet statebureaucrat decidedtomarry theadjective, korennoe,tothe verbal suffix, izatsiia,tocoin thenew term, korenizatsiia.True, it had aneutral, objective sensibility.It certainly soundedbetterthan, say, tuzemnizatsiia.But it wasalsoone more in aseriesofgeneric labels that theSovietregime appliedtoits plural nation- alities. It wasalso aconvenientbureaucratic substitutefor “nationalization,”a perfecteuphemism to mean less,not morenationalization; and more, not less centralization of efforts.Itsignaledthe institutionalization of thenationalities in theroutine of theapparatrather than anyelaboration of national or local interests. Korenizatsiia threadedstate power downwardasitraisedselect nativesupward: it wasthe “workofnativizing theSovietapparatusand drawing it toward thenative population”(vdele korenizatsiisovapparataipriblizheniia egokkorennomunaseleniiu); and the “promotionofworkers from thesphereof thenative population”(vydvizhenie rabotnikovizsredy korennogo naseleniia). As aneologism, so one observer noted,the term wasatfirst strange and “cutting to theear.” It had an artificialand foreignring.But over theyears, between  and ,the term wasdisseminatedinever wider circles out of R  SUSUS  thestate bureaucracyand into mediaoutlets andpublic conversations.Com- munist ideologues hadtoteach thetermtotheir owncadres.They wroteof “so-called korenizatsiia”; or affixeditasthe “natsionalizatsiia(korenizatsiia)” of theparty and stateapparatuses;ortranslateditas a “bolshevization.” But once this learningprocess wascomplete, korenizatsiia became afavoriteterm of partydiscourse, especially as acomplementtocollectivization and indus- trialization, to “tractorization”and “passportization,”tothe “liquidation”(of thekulaks) and the “signalization”(of partydoctrine). These wereall projects out to reengineer all-Russian societyin“radical ways”(korennymobrazom), makea“radical break” (korennaia lomka)withthe past,and lead to “radical socialist reconstruction”(korennoesotsialisticheskoe pereustroistvo). Koreni­ zatsiia wasthereforeanew kind of nationalization, one suited to theStalinist greattransformation, implying aradicalization of thelocal non-Russian rank and file, by wayofBolshevik ideology. As asignal to prepare Stalinist cadres formodernization, korenizatsiia meantcreating anew generation of translators,young people proficientin both thenative and Russian languages. By birth and placetheywerelocal res- idents of an assignednationality,native speakers of thenative language. Their preferredname was “promotees” (vydvizhentsy), thoughtheywerealsocalled “communist nationals” and “workernationals,”the “national”signifying the nativelanguage they spokeand usedatwork. Theyweretorepresent thelocal population in the “lower apparat” (village soviets, cooperatives, grade schools, and collective farms), registering items suchasbirthsand marriagesand deaths, or thereceipt and paymentofloans,orthe organization of civillawsuits. They weretodisseminate communist ideology yetalso to actas“barometers” of the popular mood (one of Stalin’s terms). But by status and purpose they also had to be bilingual. Their essentialtaskwas to master “parallel” administrative paperworkinboththe native and theRussian language, or whatwas often called “universal technical ” (vseobshchaia tekhnicheskaia gramotnost´). Korenizatsiia,inthese terms, wasanativization forRussification. Or as one writer put it rather heftily,the newtimesdemandedthe “nativization of the Soviet apparatusbyway of theinvolvement[vovlechenie]ofthe working masses of theformerly backward nationalities in themanagementofthe Soviet state.” If this policyofkorenizatsiia wasarooting of theparty-state into thelives of localpeople and their languages, aradicalization of their cultures and econ- omies, it was also akind of uprooting,aplayonone meaning of “to root” (korenit´)—in other words “to root out.” Therewas no korenizatsiia without adisplacement, without theeradication of theold national bourgeoisie, and their dialectsand printcultures,infavor of thenew Soviet promotees. Kore­ nizatsiia wasalwaysabout replacing theold independentnational elites with newdependentSoviet ones.Inthese ways,itwas also closelyrelated to the Soviet policyofthe “latinization”(latinizatsiia)ofthe Arabic alphabets for  SH thepeople of the “east.” Both werea“policy” (politika)meant to create new literate cadres and printcultures,based on newalphabets,orthographies, lexicons,and grammars,all alignedtothe actual soundsand speechpatterns of most speakers.But both werealso a “politics” (politika)whichdemanded the “displacement” (vytesnenie)ofrival national literaryand political elites in theprocess. Latin meantreducing themasses to anew autonomy, anew literary regime with alphabet primers,textbooks,schools,and newspapers, butwithout thetreasuryofArabic-script literature. Thatautonomyalso made them liable to Soviet ideologicalcommands. Both korenizatsiia and latinizatsiia highlight therelegation of thenational language to an instrumental “factor”inSovietpolitics, rather than as aforum forgenuine national sovereignty. Leadingparty andstate administrators made this pointtime and again. The veteran Narkomnats and TsIK executive I. Arkhincheevcautionedthatlatinization (likethe national language) was “not agoalorend in itself but ameans,atool, amethod” (ne tsel´ ilisamo­ tsel´,asredstvo, orudie,metod), in other words “themostimportant factor” (krupneishii faktor)inSovietnationality policy. “The native language is not an end in itself,”wrote I. D. Davydov,directorofthe Council of National Minori- ties(Narkompros). It wasmerelya“pedagogicalprinciple.”OrasG.Togzhanov, aKazakhnational-communist,wrote: neither language nor alphabetwere “endsinthemselves,”but rather means forthe “initiation”(priobshchenie)of non-Russians into theRussian language community,the font of “proletarian all-international culture.” In all of these ways,both korenizatsiia and latinizatsiia wereutilitarian “grammars” of akind; means by whichthe Soviet regime translatedits political, economic,and cultural power into thenationality peripheries. Imeangram- mar in aliteral sense: small worldsofrepresentations and rulesthatgoverned theusagesofthese termsand all their verbal constructions.D.N.Ushakov’s ExplanatoryDictionary of the RussianLanguage () even offered asmall grammar lesson for korenizatsiia,explaining how to decline and properly use it in asentence. But Ialso mean grammar in afigurative sense: as apolitical grammar,relating to awhole set of people and things, subjecttowell-defined and controllingregulations and techniques. Korenizatsiia and latinizatsiia represented language as atechnology of rule, amechanism of power. These termswerealsoprecedents fortwo powerfulmeans of forced Rus- sification in thelater s: thestandardization of terminologies and literary languagesunder aRussian standard; and theconversion of all Soviet alphabets (exceptGeorgianand Armenian) to Cyrillic bases.Herewerethe ultimate kindsofimperialtranslation: as identification with and transliteration from Russian. However static and squaredinits appositions and toponyms,the Soviet Union still yetexpressed adynamism and mobilizational power by way of korenizatsiia, latinizatsiia, standardizatsiia,and kirillizatsiia.Herewas R  SUSUS  asupreme confidencethatlanguage could be knownand manipulated;that thevastlydifferentforms of languages, in their lexicons and grammars,were nonethelessmutually intelligible in translations,partofauniversal stockof meaningsordainedbyhistory,and by Marxand Engels,byLenin and Stalin.

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By theearly s, throughall of thesevariedcontexts, centered on an “empire of substitutions,” theSovietUnion had become less of aserene multilingual stateand moreofaregime of forced bilingualisms—without choiceorfull reciprocity.Multilingual, yes:but only in thesenseofforcedbilingualism multipliedbythe Soviet Union’s variousparts; as thesum of itsmanysmallish parts.Inthe end, all of itssubstitutions—aslegacies,or surrogacies,ordependencies—mayadd up to one overarching substitution: theSovietstate as amassive projectoftranslation. It wasatranslatio imperii, a “transfer”ofrule from one empiretoanother.But itsfounders also createda powerfulmetaphor of traditio imperii,a“translation”or“duplication”(duplic- ity) within theempire, an interdiction between thelanguagesofempire. It was, in effect, amassive projectofdiscrete translations.This impliedanequality of languages, as all translation does.This assumedamutualgive and take,a transferring and giving up of words and meanings. But this also all addedup to alossand again, atranslation for Russian. Both thetsaristand Soviet states wieldedthe creative and destructive power of prepositionalsand appositionals, of genericsand hypernyms: moving and occupying places and peoplesbyway of territories,byway of languages. We areleftwithasurprising paradox: Soviet “nations” werelessgenuine thankstoSoviet language policies, whichraisedthem to some linguistic auton- omyand self-representation, while at thesame time denying them political sovereigntyand self-determination. The language factor and itslinguistic markers helped Soviet nations seem legitimate,but only seem so.Awhole set of other factors intervened: theprotocols of theCommunist Party, the pseudo-constitutional strictures of theSovietstate,the economic demandsof collectivization and industrialization—all in and throughthe Russian language.

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. D. Iuzhin, “Za chistotu russkogo iazyka,” Krasnaia gazeta,  January, . .Jane Burbank and Markvon Hagen, “Coming into the Territory,”inRussianEmpire: Space,People,Power,–,ed. Jane Burbank,Markvon Hagen, and Anatolyi Remnev(Bloomington: Indiana University Press, ): –. .See,for example,Juliette Cadiot, Le laboratoire imperial: Russie­URSS, – SH

(Paris:CNRS, ); and Nicholas Breyfogle, “Enduring Imperium,” Ab Imperio  (): –. .JohnW.Slocum, “Who, When, and Wherewerethe Inorodtsy?” RussianReview  (April ): –. .Leonid Gorizontov, “The ‘Great Circle’ of Interior Russia,”inBurbank et al., Russian Empire, . .Aleksei Miller, The RomanovEmpireand Nationalism (Budapest: Central European University, ), ch. .AndreasKappeler, “The Ambiguities of Russification,” Kritika ,no.  (): –. .WillardSunderland, “The ‘Colonization’Question,” Jahrbücher fürGeschichte Osteuropas ,no.  (): –. .AnitaPavlenko, “Linguistic Russification in theRussian Empire,” RussianLinguis­ tics  (), –.Stephen Velychenko, “Identities, Loyaltiesand Servicein Imperial Russia,” RussianReview  (): –. .S.N.Abashin et al., eds. Tsentral´naia aziia vsostave rossiiskoi imperii (Moscow: Novoeliteraturnoe obozrenie, ), –.Mikhail Dolbilov and Aleksei Miller, eds. Zapadnyeokrainy rossiiskoi imperii (Moscow: Novoeliteraturnoe obozrenie, ), –. .RobertGeraci, Window on the East (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, ), – , ;Elena Campbell, The Muslim Question andRussian Imperial Governance (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, ), –. .A.I.Kastelianskii, ed., Formynatsionalnago dvizheniiavsovremennykhgosudarst­ vakh (St. Petersburg:ObshchestvennaiaPol´za, ), . .S.M.Iskhakov, Pervaiarusskaiarevoliutsiiaimusul´mane rossiiskoi imperii (Moscow: Mysl´, ), –;Christian Noack, Muslimischer Nationalismus im Russischen Reich (Stuttgart:Steiner, ), –. .Kastelianskii, Formynatsional´nago dvizheniia, –. .Mustafa Tuna, “Imperial Russia’sMuslims,” (PhD diss., Princeton University, ), –, , .JörnHappel, “‘Allesinrussicher Eintracht?’ Die zarische Ver- waltung in Kazan´ und der tatarische Einfluss in Zentralasien,” Asiatische studien ,no.  (): –;Marco Buttino, La rivoluzione capovolta (Naples: L’An- cora, ), –, –. .Kastelianskii, Formynatsional´nago dvizheniia, , . Also seethe reportsin “Musul´manskaia periodicheskaiapechat´,” MirIslama , no.  (): ;and , no.  (): ;Z.Avalov, “Pis´ma onatsional´nostiakhioblastiakh,” Russkaia mysl´(): –. .Liliana , The Bolsheviks andthe RussianEmpire (NewYork: Cambridge Uni- versity Press, ). .OnLenin and Baudouin, compareCraig Brandist, The DimensionsofHegemony (Leiden: Brill, ); with JanBaudouindeCourtenay[I. Bodeun de Kurtene], Natsional´nyiiterritorial´nyipriznak vavtonomii (St. Petersburg: Stasiulevich, ), , –. R  SUSUS 

.Iosif Stalin, Marksizminatsional´no­kolonial´nyivopros (Moscow:Partizdat, ), ;also seeYuriSlezkine, “The USSRasaCommunal Apartment, or Howa Socialist StatePromoted EthnicParticularism,” Slavic Review ,no.  (Summer ): –.For Resulzade’sessays,see AidynBalaev, Mamed Emin Resulzade (Moscow: Flinta, ), –;and seehis quotes in Shafiga Daulet, “The First All Muslim Congress of Russia, Moscow,– May,” Central AsianSurvey , no. (): –. .EricLohr, Nationalizing theRussian Empire (Cambridge: HarvardUniversityPress, ). .See Molodaia gvardiia – (): .Iamparaphrasing from Stalin’s comments between and  giveninStalin, Marksizm inatsional´no­kolonial´nyi vopros, ,,; andinDesiatyi s˝ezdRKP(b): Martgoda (Moscow: Gos- izdat,), –. .M.E.Resulzade, “Natsional´noedvizhenie vAzerbaidzhane (),” Voprosy istorii  (): .Dzhamil´Gasanly, Russkaia revoliutsiiaiAzerbaidzhan (Moscow: Flinta, ). .For these terms, seeStalin’s usages in Marksizm inatsional´no­kolonial´nyivopros, ; Desiatyis˝ezdRKP(b), ;and Dvenadtsatyi s˝ezdRKP(b)–aprelia  goda (Moscow: Gosizdat,), .Also seeNarkomnats, Politika sovetskoi vlasti po natsional´nomuvoprosu za trigoda (Moscow: Gosizdat,),–. . Vlast´ sovetov (): ;  ():–; Sovetskoe stroitel´stvo (): . . Sovetskoe stroitel´stvo – (): –. .A.G.Gornfel´d, Novyeslovechkiistaryeslova (St. Petersburg:Kolosa, ), ; S. I. Kartsevskii, Iazyk, voina, irevoliutsiia (Berlin: RUI, ), ;Patrick Seriot, Analyse du discours politique soviétique (Paris:Institut d’étudesslaves, ). .See Ia.N.Gibadulin, ed., Tainynatsional´noi politiki TsKRKP:Chetvertoesove­ shchanieTsK RKP (Moscow: INSAN, ), –, , , –, –; and Vlast´ sovetov (): ;and – (): . .Onthe origins of theterm, seeI.Dal´and JanBaudouin de Courtenay[I. Boduen de Kurtene], eds., Tol´kovyislovar´ zhivogo russkogo iazyka,  vols.(Moscow: OLMA,  [reprint of – edition]), :.For its useinthe earlySoviet period,see Vlast´ sovetov  (): –;  (): ;and Sovetskoe stroitel´stvo  (): , . .MichaelG.Smith, Language andPower in theCreation of the USSR,– (Berlin and NewYork: Mouton de Gruyter, ), –, –; Prosveshchenie natsional´nostei (): –;and (): –;and  (): . . Prosveshchenie natsional´nostei  (): –;and – (): ;and  (): . Revoliutsionnyivostok – (): ix;and (): . .For vovlechenie,for example, seeStalin’s comments in Desiatyis˝ezd RKP(b), –;aswell as Sovetskoe stroitel´stvo ():;and Revoliutsionnyivostok – (): . . On themeaningsoftheperfective aspect,see Laura Janda, “AMetaphor in Search  SH

of aSource Domain,” Cognitive Linguistics ,no.  (): –;and Michael S. Flier, “Remarks on Russian Verbal Prefixation,” Slavic andEastEuropeanJournal ,no.  (Summer ): . . Sovetskoe stroitel´stvo – (): . .AidynBalaev, EtnoiazykovyeprotsessyvAzerbaidzhane (Baku: Nurlan, ), .For similar trendsinUkraine,see Matthew Pauly, Breaking the Tongue:Lan­ guage, Education,and Power in Soviet Ukraine, – (Toronto:University of TorontoPress, ), –. .JörgBaberowski, DerFeind istÜberall:StalinismusimKaukasus (Munich: Anstalt, ), –;Stephen Blank, “Stalin’sFirst Victim,” RussianHistory ,no.  (): –. .Terry Martin, The rmAffi ative ActionEmpire (Ithaca: CornellUniversityPress, ), .For oneofthe first usesofthe term,see “Korenizatsiiasovetskogo apparata,” Vlast´ sovetov  (): ;A.M.Selishchev, Iazykrevoliutsionnoi epokhi (Moscow: Rabotnik prosveshcheniia, ), ;Dal´ and BaudouindeCourtenay, Tol´kovyislovar´, :–. . Vlast´ sovetov  (): ;  (): ;  (): . .Iuzhin, “Za chistotu russkogo iazyka,” ; Bolshevik,no.  ( November ): –; andno.  ( June ): –. .Stalin, Marksizminatsional´no­kolonial´nyivopros,. .See Bolshevik  ( November ): –; (January): –;and  ( June ): –.For similar pronouncements,see Partiinoe stroitel´stvo (): –; – (): ; – (): –;(): –;and Revoliutsiiai natsional´nosti  (): ;  (): –;and – (): . .Quotedfrom Revoliutsionnyivostok – (): ;and also see – (): ; and (): . . Revoliutsiiainatsional´nosti  (): –;and  (): .Onthismeaning of korenit´, seeDal´and Baudouin de Courtenay, Tol´kovyislovar´, :. .See Arkhincheev’s quoteinBolshevik  ( June ): –;and  ( July ): –;aswellasRevoliutsiiainatsional´nosti  (): .Davydov’s and Togzhanov’s claims areinProsveshchenie natsional´nostei (): ;and – (): . .D.N.Ushakov, ed., Tol´kovyislovar´ russkogo iazyka,  vols. (Moscow:OGIZ, ), :. .For aculminating scholarly surveyofthese processes, seeV.M. Zhirmunskii, Natsional´nyiiazykisotsial´nyedialekty (Leningrad: Gosizdat,).