Patriotism of Despair a Volume in the Series Culture and Society After Socialism Edited by Bruce Grant and Nancy Ries
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The PaTrioTism of DesPair A VOLUME IN THE SERIES Culture and society after socialism edited by Bruce Grant and Nancy Ries A list of titles in this series is available at www.cornellpress.cornell.edu The Patriotism of Despair Nation, War, and Loss in Russia serguei alex. oushakine Cornell University Press Ithaca and London Repeated efforts were made to obtain permission to include previously published materials. If acknowledgment has been omitted, rights holders are encouraged to notify the publisher. Copyright © 2009 by Cornell University All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in a review, this book, or parts thereof, must not be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, address Cornell University Press, Sage House, 512 East State Street, Ithaca, New York 14850. First published 2009 by Cornell University Press First printing, Cornell Paperbacks, 2009 Printed in the United States of America Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Ushakin, S. (Sergei), 1966– The patriotism of despair : nation, war, and loss in Russia / Serguei Alex. Oushakine. p. cm. — (Culture and society after socialism) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-8014-4679-5 (cloth : alk. paper)—ISBN 978-0-8014-7557-3 (pbk. : alk. paper) 1. Post-communism—Social aspects—Russia (Federation)—Barnaul (Altaiskii krai) 2. Political culture—Russia (Federation)—Barnaul (Altaiskii krai) 3. Patriotism—Russia (Federation)—Barnaul (Altaiskii krai) 4. Social change—Russia (Federation)—Barnaul (Altaiskii krai) 5. Ethnology—Russia (Federation)—Barnaul (Altaiskii krai) 6. Barnaul (Altaiskii krai, Russia)— Civilization. I. Title. II. Series: Culture and society after socialism. 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Cloth printing 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Paperback printing 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 For Kim Lane Scheppele Contents Acknowledgments ix Introduction: “We Have No Motherland” 1 1 Repatriating Capitalism: Fragmented Society and Global Connections 15 2 The Russian Tragedy: From Ethnic Trauma to Ethnic Vitality 79 3 Exchange of Sacrifices: State, Soldiers, and War 130 4 Mothers, Objects, and Relations: Organized by Death 202 Conclusion: “People Cut in Half” 259 References 263 Index 293 Introduction “We Have No Motherland” On December 25th 1991, the headline in Komsomolskaia Pravda, a major Soviet daily newspaper, reflected the nation’s shock at the just-announced dissolution of the USSR: “I woke up, and I am stunned—Soviet power is gone” (Ia prosnulsia—zdras'te! Net sovetskoi vlasti! ). In a week, the system of state-controlled prices in Russia would be gone too, and very soon inflation would reach 2,000 percent per year. Within next few years, the Communist Party would be banned (but legalized later), and many other traditional in- stitutions associated with state socialism would fade away. The collapse of state ideology and the attendant dismantling of the elab- orate system of state domination were a significant part of the story of the dissolution of the Soviet Union. But they were not the whole story. Ampli- fied by the corrupt privatization of national assets and a massive transfor- mation of existing norms and conventions, this collapse produced a lasting impact on individual and collective identities, modes of social exchange, and forms of symbolization. Usually framed as a “period of transition,” the 1990s were quickly dubbed by Russians as the time of bespredel, a word that means a lack of any visible obstacles or limits but also an absence of any shared rules or laws. Apart from this institutional dimension, for many ex-Soviets the collapse of the USSR had a more personal meaning, too. For several generations, the Soviet past and personal biographies had become indistinguishable, and the disappearance of the Soviet country often implied the obliteration of individual and collective achievements, shared norms of interaction, estab- lished bonds of belonging, or familiar daily routines. The abandoning of old institutions and the erasing of the most obvious traces of Communist 2 The Patriotism of Despair ideology did not automatically produce an alternative unifying cultural, political, or social framework. As a result, the trope of loss turned out to be the most effective symbolic device, one capable of translating people’s So- viet experience into the post-Soviet context. In the summer of 1992, when I visited Barnaul, the administrative center of the Altai region that became the main field site for this book, I encountered a striking example of these attempts to articulate a new life in terms of absence. Along a main road that runs from downtown to a suburb there was a huge link of a metal pipe, left behind by gas workers some years earlier. A dozen meters long, the pipe was also very high, and local kids used to hide inside it. During that summer, someone used the pipe for a graffiti display. Facing the road, large white- washed letters announced simply: “We have no Motherland” (Nyet u nas Rodiny). I could not tell whether the statement was an ironic comment, an outcry, or a line from a famous Russian poem. Perhaps the sign, addressed to no one in particular and to anyone who passed, combined all of these. This book grew out of those pipe graffiti—as an attempt to under- stand how people in Russia explained their sudden “loss” of motherland, how they reconciled their personal lives with dramatic social and political changes. The project was originally aimed at documenting the local prac- tices through which people tried to restore their feeling of belonging once Soviet power and the Soviet motherland were “gone.” The book traces how Russians in a Siberian province filled up the vacant place left behind by the collapsed socialist order and how they reconfigured, reimagined, and objec- tified their connections with the new nation and the new country. When I returned to Barnaul in 2001 to do fieldwork, the pipe was gone, and the city had also changed. Yet, in contrast to some of the more promi- nent Russian cities, there was no radical erasure of the important cultural objects of the past. No revolutionary memorials had been destroyed, no streets renamed. The main city boulevard, fittingly named after the Bol- shevik leader, is still punctuated by three old statues of Lenin (one every two miles). The Soviet background persisted, or rather, it silently offset the emerging signs and symbols of new post-Soviet reality. In 2003, during my fieldwork, another striking juxtaposition of these two culturally distinct periods caught my eye: a clumsy local billboard in a Barnaul neighborhood invited people to celebrate Independence Day on June 12.1 Its surroundings, however, added an ironic twist. Behind the bill- board an old Soviet building bore a reminder of a very different political 1. The day was introduced in 1994 to mark the Declaration of Sovereignty adopted by the Russian parliament on June 12, 1990. It was the first new official holiday in post-Soviet Russia. Introduction 3 Fig. I.1. “With love to Russia”: a poster for Independence Day with nonfunctioning neon signs celebrating the seventy-third anniversary of the October Revolution in the background. Barnaul, 2003. Photo by author. event. On the roof of the building, nonfunctioning neon combinations of the number 73 and red carnations referred to the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917 (Figure I.1). Originally erected in 1990 for the last widely celebrated anniversary of the October Revolution, the sign had been neither removed nor replaced, freezing in time and space the power that had been gone for more than a decade. In his study of liminality, Victor Turner reminded us that a temporary suspension of semiotic and discursive activity of the “liminal personae” is one of the typical features of a liminal stage (Turner 1969, 103). Nonfunc- tioning revolutionary signs were indeed an example of this temporarily halted semiotics. Ignored yet not removed, they continued their tacit life as a part of the symbolic landscape. Having lost their primary meaning, these “suspended” signs nonetheless retained their ability to demarcate the line be- tween the present and the past, to remind about a past that had become irretrievable yet not erased. 4 The Patriotism of Despair Despite their implicit and even explicitly nostalgic undertones, these remnants of the disappeared Soviet state were far from being just an indi- cator of a conservative clinging to the totalitarian past or another reflection of “path dependence,” blocking the steady movement toward a bright neo- liberal future. If the post-Soviet period can teach us anything, it is, perhaps, that during times of comprehensive social and political transformation cul- ture matters more than ever. In this book, I show how such traces of loss, the remains of objects and histories that had disappeared, helped sustain con- tinuity in people’s lives during a time of personal or collective transition. By analyzing narratives collected in Barnaul, I identify symbolic anchors— “transitional objects” as Winnicott (1971) called them—that provided the liminal subject with a minimal set of navigation tools in the fragmented and disorienting post-Soviet landscape. With no predictable beginning and no expected end, Russia’s post-Soviet transition came with no clear set of rules or paths to follow. Individual and group liminality of the 1990s coincided with the liminality of the so- ciety at large: communities had to be created, new systems of values had to emerge, and traditions of discursive interactions and social exchange had to be invented.