Paul
Goble
Staunton, September 22 –Soviet
suppression of Russian Orthodoxy in Central Asia, Stalin’s exiling of representatives
of various Protestant communities to that region, and Moscow’s attempt to replace
religious identities with ethnic ones among the indigenous Muslim population
set the stage for the rise of religious radicalism of all kinds there.
Indeed, Aleksey Sukhov argues in an
article on the Evrazia.org portal, “as a result of the policy of state atheism,
favorable conditions for the activities of supporters of radical Islam and also
various religious sects and new religious organizations (including totalitarian
ones) were in place at the moment of the collapse of the USSR” (evrazia.org/article/2368).
Although he devotes most of his
5,000-word article to the history of Islam and Russian Orthodoxy in Central
Asia in general and Kyrgyzstan in particular before 1917, Sukhov provides one
of the most thoughtful Russian discussions of the highly sensitive issue of
Soviet responsibility for present-day religious extremism.
This is not a simple story, but it
is a critically important one for understanding what has happened and why – and
also for recognizing that many of the same Soviet actions that opened the way
for Islamist extremism also had the effect of equally unintentionally promoting
Christian radicalism as well.
In the early 1920s, the Bolsheviks
were able to use the isolation of the Russian Orthodox Church and the
divisions, religious as well as ethnic, among the indigenous and Islamic
population. At first they hoped to use attacks on Orthodoxy to gain support
from Muslims and then to use the Muslims to spread the revolution to the East.
“However,” Sukhov points out, “they
quickly recognized that danger which the consolidation of Turkestan on a
pan-Islamic basis would represent” and consequently sought to weaken Islam both
by direct attacks on mosques and mullahs and by the division of the region into
ethnically-defined territories.
The Bolsheviks
attacked the Orthodox Church first. They suppressed the local hierarchs and
priests, replacing them with pro-Soviet “renewal” figures from elsewhere, and
closed almost all the churches. By the
1930s, there was only one Orthodox church open in all of Central Asia – the Pokrovsky
Cathedral in Samarkand.
According to Sukhov, the local
Muslims “showed sympathy” to the Christian victims of this anti-religious
campaign, hiding the priests “even at the risk of their own lives.” These priests in turn became an underground or
“catacomb” church, very much cut off from and later at odds with the restored
Patriarchate in Moscow.
After World War II, Sukhov
continued, Kyrgyzstan – and he could have added other parts of Central Asia as
well – became the place of exile of “religious sectarians from the western
oblast of Ukraine and Belarus, Bessarabia, Northern Bukovina, and the Baltics.” These included Jehovah’s Witnesses, various
Pentecostals, Evangelical Baptists, and Seventh Day Adventists.
These groups had the greatest
influence in Slavic communities who had been deprived of a church because of
Moscow’s attacks on Orthodoxy, Sukhov continues. “As a result, and thanks to the deportation
to Kyrgyzstan were rooted many new and hitherto unknown in that religious trends
and sects.”
After 1945, Moscow allowed some of
the Russian Orthodox churches to reopen.
Their number in Central Asia reached 66 in the early 1950s, but most of
them were shuttered again at the end of that decade during Khrushchev’s
anti-religious campaign. Only at the end
of the 1980s did they reopen. In 1990, there were a total of 56 Orthodox
churches there.
During
the Soviet period, Sukhov says, official or institutionalized Islam was
seriously weakened for the same reasons that Russian Orthodoxy was. But just as
the closing of churches had not ended Christianity but driven it underground
and in some cases politicized it, so too the closure of mosques had the same
effect.
Islam remained
an important component of identity, and Soviet campaigns against it “did not
destroy” the faith but rather “drove religious leaders into the deep
underground.” There, they continued to
function, and something else happened as well: this “popular Islam became
something more than a religion;” it became a bastion of national identity and
political resistance.
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