Abstract
Theodore R. Weeks, Across the Revolutionary Divide: Russia and the USSR, 1861–1945, Wiley Blackwell: Chichester, 2011; xiii + 282 pp., 15 illus., 5 maps; 9781405169608, £19.99 (pbk)
Stephen Lovell, The Shadow of War: Russia and the USSR, 1941 to the Present Day, Wiley Blackwell: Chichester, 2010. xviii + 370 pp., 32 illus., 6 maps, 9781405169585 £19.99 (pbk)
These books complete the three-volume Blackwell History of Russia, which started with Elise Kimerling Wirtschafter’s Russia’s Age of Serfdom, 1649-1861 (2008). The series aims to provide a fresh synthesis, incorporating new sources and approaches to represent the ‘kaleidoscopic variety’ of everyday life in the Russian Empire and the USSR; or, as Weeks phrases it, to enable a focus on the ‘lived experiences of everyday people’ rather than ‘traditional’ political history. An unconventional chronology and a thematic approach enable these volumes to explore continuity and change over major chronological divides.
Weeks’ book starts with politics, describing huge changes as Russia moved from autocracy to democracy to communism; yet Weeks also highlights continuities, especially the strong role played by the state throughout this period. Subsequent chapters, though, see an emphasis on change. The second and fourth chapters, for instance, discuss society and modernization respectively. In both, change dominated, even if it remained incomplete. The move from illiteracy to literacy, rural to urban, patriarchy to equality, and identities based on occupation rather than narrow legal definitions were ‘immensely’ significant. Russia also made advances in some elements of modernization – urbanization, industrialization, literacy, and social mobility – but lagged behind in legal and constitutional reform, developing a civil society, and, most obviously, in providing an acceptable standard of living for the population. Weeks also stresses the radical changes in belief systems, from a world view dominated by religion to a society centred on science and rationalism, despite the persistence, against all odds, of the Orthodox Church. Equally, Russia’s position within the world dramatically changed, from the Tsarist regime’s attempts to maintain Russia’s status as a European power, to the Soviet Union’s emergence from the Second World War as a world power. Only in two chapters does change appear muted. There was the continuous problem of nationalism as, despite promoting national identities initially, Soviet policies reverted back to older, authoritarian methods in the 1930s. Even then, Weeks stresses that nationality became a key part of an individual’s identity in Soviet Russia, whilst national boundaries were central to the state structure, whether in terms of administration, educational policy or party organization. Finally, the last chapter, whilst emphasizing huge advances in literacy and technology, and pointing out elements of innovation after 1917, charts a narrowing of cultural activity across the period.
The book finishes with a series of key questions. What changed? A great deal, but people continued to lack basic civil liberties and political power. Did Russia modernize? Not entirely, progress was partial and one-sided. Why did democracy fail to develop? Probably due to a mixture of being one of the most authoritarian regimes remaining in Europe in the early 20th century, facing years of war, revolution and civil war not long after some degree of political freedom had emerged in 1905, and the inevitable problems emerging from Russia’s size and lack of sufficient wealth. Moreover, Tsarist and Soviet industrialization concentrated on heavy industry not consumer goods, fuelling a focus on the material aspects of everyday life over political change, whilst the slow growth of literacy can’t have helped.
Although Lovell is also concerned with issues of continuity and change, he is quick to question accepted ways of thinking, pointing out continuities when it is easier to see change or noting change where most see inertia. The first two chapters – on politics and economics – are quick to highlight obvious continuities across the war, the lack of transparency and accountability in politics, the role of patron–client networks, the inability to distinguish between political, military and economic elites, and economic mismanagement, all of which remain to this day. Yet, much changed: the way that the regime exercised power, the fluctuating relationship between the state and the party, as well as the regime’s priorities. Lovell paints a picture of an increasingly stable political system permitting greater leeway to its citizens as time passed, even if it lagged far behind the West in terms of civil rights. Under this treatment, even Brezhnev’s USSR comes across as far more dynamic (and interesting) than usual.
Lovell excels when assessing the ‘lived experiences’ of ordinary people. Examining structures of society, public and private spheres, centre and periphery, nationalism, and perceptions of the West, Lovell describes a more vibrant and complex society than one might imagine. Society was divided and fluid, with location, education, occupation, age and gender having a significant impact on lives. Increasingly, status and occupation was becoming hereditary, even if no one was completely secure. Society was becoming more modern – urban and secular, with higher life expectancy and lower birth rates. Along with this came the emergence of a personal sphere, which the regime opposed ideologically, but aided through house-building programmes and its acceptance of consumerism. Russians still suffered and repression remained, whilst standards of living lagged far behind the West, but there was slow and steady progress.
Several chapters stress that some of Russia’s contemporary concerns – regionalism, nationalism and her position in the world – have been problematic throughout. The Soviet regime never fully controlled its regions and local independence accelerated rapidly in the 1990s, exacerbating ethnic tensions in places like Tatarstan and Chechnya, which remain, despite recentralization under Putin. Lovell agrees with Weeks that the USSR fostered national identity, but it could only contain national aspirations whilst the political system remained strong. As soon as it weakened in the 1980s, nationalism proved to be a major destabilizing force. Nevertheless, given that over 50 ethnic groups had territorial rights within Russia, and that numerous Russians lived in newly-independent republics after 1991, Lovell suggests that instability and violence in the Caucasus, whilst dominating the media, is actually the exception rather than the rule. There was potential for far greater conflict.
Lovell places contemporary Russia in context. Flawed democracies, he contends, are more common than stable ones and even the latter can act illiberally to defend their interests. The USSR was the largest empire in the world by the 1950s and he suggests that concepts of empire and decolonization might be applied productively to Russia. All empires found it difficult to divest themselves of their colonies. By 1980, the USSR was in imperial overstretch, applying decolonization internally (by granting its people greater rights), but refusing to relax its control over areas such as Eastern Europe. This helps explain 1991, but the humiliation and turmoil of a collapsing empire did much to alienate ordinary Russians from political pluralism, whilst imperial mentalities persisted in respect to Chechnya and elsewhere. For Lovell, therefore, 1991 was not a quest for a liberal democracy, as much of the West still assumes, but a quest to forge a viable Russian nation state out of the wreckage of empire.
When it comes to ‘traditional’ political history and discussing what happened when, this series cannot match the older, seven-volume Longman History of Russia (1983–96), but all the volumes paint a much more vivid and complex picture of Russian and Soviet society. That said, Lovell’s book is far more satisfying than Weeks’. In part, this is hardly surprising as Lovell’s volume is significantly longer, but Lovell is determined to question and interrogate, not just summarize and adjudicate. His analysis is thought provoking and will stimulate specialists as well as other readers. Otherwise, the absence of detail on specific events is more evident in Weeks. His chapter on politics is, quite simply, too brief to convey the political context needed to construct the framework in which to read the other chapters. There is the revolutionary movement of the 1860s–70s, for example, without Chernyshevsky, Lavrov or populism; industrialization in the 1890s without Witte; Marxism without Plekhanov, Menshevism and Socialist Revolutionaries, and so on. Some of these gaps are filled later (Witte and Chernyshevsky, for instance), but by then the discussion is firmly wedded to a particular theme.
This has contributed to further problems in Weeks’ work. First, explanations are missing; for example, Trotsky’s Menshevik past is noted as a problem in the 1920s (41), but Menshevism has not been mentioned thus far and, indeed, is never described. Lovell also succumbs to this occasionally, not explaining, for instance, the 1944 percentages agreement before mentioning it (255), but not as frequently as Weeks. Second, Weeks’ brevity has led to the odd misleading statement. For a historian of 1917, the claim that ‘the leftist parties (including, though reluctantly, the Bolsheviks) attempted to grab power in July [1917]’ (34) is confusing at best, given that the ‘leftist’ parties were in government by this stage. Finally, for those who want to examine specific topics, several chapters are needed. This is unavoidable in a thematic approach, yet it seems less of a problem in Lovell (or in Wirtschafter’s earlier volume) as topics are allocated to a particular theme rather than spread out among several.
Lovell also outlines the existing historiography more effectively, utilizing Russian-language studies (unlike Weeks) and even PhD theses, enabling him to survey the most recent thinking. In contrast, Weeks often fails to mention important recent studies (for example, on 1917) or even allude to contentious debates (such as whether Russia was revolutionary on the eve of 1914). The problem is exacerbated by a bibliography arranged by author, not thematically to tie in with the book’s structure, as in Lovell. These issues diminish the book’s value for students in particular. Weeks’ volume would have benefited from a more substantial chapter on politics, thereby creating a stronger framework for subsequent, excellent chapters, particularly on belief, modernization and nationalities.
In the end, for this series to supersede earlier textbooks for students, lecturers will have to do two things: embrace the unconventional chronology with the same enthusiasm as the authors and adopt a thematic approach to their teaching. Another option, the one I intend to adopt, is to assign particular chapters as reading alongside the ‘traditional’ sections in the Longman series. The publisher will not want to hear this, but it will undoubtedly be of great value to students, who will benefit from the perceptive and judicious analysis of Weeks and Lovell, whilst obtaining the chronological framework to best appreciate them. This should not, however, hide the fact that individually these books have contributed to a broader understanding of the period. Lovell, in particular, has written an accomplished and stimulating book.