Paul
Goble
Staunton, June 15 – Many scholars in
Russia, the Middle Volga and the West view the jadidist or “modernist” movement
among Muslims in 19th century Russia as the great hope for the
development of that community that was broken off by the Bolsheviks and to
which the Muslims of the region should return.
But this image of jadidism has
become “a curse” for the nations of the Middle Volga, Alfrid Bustanov, a
professor at St. Petersburg’s European University, because its black and white
assumptions that the jadids were totally different from their traditionalist
opponents and were responsible for all movement forward there (realnoevremya.ru/today/33803).
The reality is very different, he
argues. But so far, a more nuanced picture of the jadids has not passed from
the academic community to the broader one. Bustanov suggests that among the
best reviews of new studies has been provided by Indiana University professor
Devin DeWeese in his “It was a Dark and Stagnant Night (‘til the Jadids Brought
the Light),”Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient, 59:1-2
(2016), pp. 37-92.
One
of the reasons that society at large has not yet accepted the more nuanced
view, Bustanov says, is that “it is difficult to find a more politicized and
all-embracing misconception that the story about jadidism as a triumphal
struggle of enlightenment figures for progress against backwardness, for a secular
world against religious obscurantism” and so on.
The
jadids themselves and many historian since then have insisted that somehow
miraculously arose “new people” in a backward and “dark ‘traditional’ society”
and they rushed to accept and spread “advanced Wester though in Russian or
Ottoman translations” and to promote “the inevitable modernization and
Europeanization of society.”
The
jadids presented themselves and their opponents almost as caricatures. They
were “clean-shaven, in European dress, hat and classed, were concerned about
being useful to the people, and spoke Russian well.” The kadamists, in
contrast, are typically presented as in medieval dress “with the remains of
plov in their beards.”
A
few scholars challenged that imagery but until recently not many, and as a
result, “jadidism [remained] a story about inevitable progress” and thus
attracted students who viewed it as “opposed to everything ‘backward.’” But now, as DeWeese, shows, this simplified
and incorrect image is in the course of being overthrown.
For
far too long, Bustanov says, “the jadids were interesting because they were
like us. Everyone who read about them saw in them something close and
understandable. In other words, interest in (imagined) Islamist reformism was
and is explained not by the unique qualities of local culture … but by its
similarity and closeness to European values.”
The
debates of other Muslims about the voiced or unvoiced zikr seem “an improbable
exoticism” to most today; but the jadids’ interest in theater, their role in
the Russian State Duma, their willingness to take pictures of women, and their
essays in Russian – all this is “close, understandable and accessible.”
But
that very accessibility is a problem, Bustanov says, because it means that
there is “a shocking imbalance” in understanding societies of a century or so
ago: “We do not know almost anything about Muslims in [tsarist] Russia except
the struggle for reform” and thus about the jadids rather than about the Muslim
community as a whole.
Indeed,
he says, it has turned out that in the minds of most there was nothing worth
attention before the jadids because those Muslims lived entirely in “a kingdom
of darkness” where people recited texts they did not understand and engaged in
archaic practices which now are fortunately gone.
That
view has led to a related one that “the jadids brought with them something
completely new and totally distinguished from those around them and their
predecessors. Such a focus on innovation in the search for progress completely
isoaltes those whom we call jadids from any context in either space or time.”
“Even
their opponents,” Bustanov suggests, “the traditionalists become interesting to
us only when they enter into disputes with the jadids. In all other cases, the
traditionalists are weighted down with the darkness” of the past, and the only
two dates people in the Middle Volga talk about are 1552 – the Russian sack of
Kazan – and 1789 – the establishment of the Orenburg Mohammadan Assembly.
And
all this leads to an even greater mistake, the St. Petersburg scholar says. It
means that “conversations about jadidism are always a discussion of the present
and the future rather than the past, of hope for a special path of
modernization which was interrupted by the Bolsheviks.”
“Certain
people even associate themselves with the jadids and present them as a black
and white world of progress versus stagnation.”
The divide between the jadids and kadamists was not as sharp as they
imagine, something they could glean from new books like Liliya Gabdrafikova’s
2015 study, Tatar Bourgeois Society: Life
Style in an Era of Change (the Second Half of the 19th and beginning
of the 20th centuries (Kazan, in Russian).
“But
the chief obstacle on the path to a reconsideration of the jaded heritage,”
Bustanov says, “is the limited nature of our knowledge,” the lack of easily
accessible digitalized texts of cultural figures across the ideological
spectrum. Jadid texts increasingly are
available that way; those of others need to be. Otherwise “the curse of
jadidism” will continue.
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