Paul
Goble
Staunton, October 3 – In the late
1980s, the National Geographic Society in the United States published a map of “The
Peoples of the Soviet Union.” Around the
map of the USSR as it then was were portraits of representatives of some of its
nations. The Ukrainian was shown in a peasant dress, the Latvian in a pre-war
military uniform, and the Uzbek in a long traditional coat.
But the Russian, identified as such,
was shown in a space suit, the only one who looked to be contemporary. That
image, one that was typical in imperial times in which the Russians were viewed
as another European nation while the rest were seen as backward peoples or even
aborigines, faded in Soviet times but has returned with new force in Putin’s
Russia.
In Soviet times, communist ideology
had a vested interest in presenting the modernization of non-Russians as one of
the regime’s great achievements. Consequently, its treatment of such groups distorted
them in another way, focusing on industry and housing blocs and downplaying
culture and language.
Such imagery was wrong, but now it
has been replaced by the imperial one that in many ways is even worse and
certainly more dangerous as far as the futures of the non-Russian nations are
concerned, peoples whose “primitive” and “backward” nature means they should
acculturate and assimilate to the Great Russian nation.
Now, however, the imperial attitude
has returned in force, with Russians viewed as a modern nation and the others
as primitive and backward whose pasts as cultures and language communities
should be sacrificed in the name of acculturating and assimilating to the Great
Russian nation.
In a commentary for the IdelReal
portal, Chuvash historian and journalist Timer Aktash focuses on an example of this
attitude, a new film on the history of that Christian Turkic nation that was
made not by a Chuvash studio with Chuvash directors and actors but rather by people
in Moscow with a very different sensibility (idelreal.org/a/30187239.html).
The film, called Etker (which
in Chuvash means “dignity” or “heritage”), is being promoted by a picture from
the end of the Russian imperial period showing two obviously poor Chuvash peasant
girls, an image that reinforces the view many have that that nation like other
non-Russian peoples is backward and should give up its backwardness and become
Russian.
In Soviet times, Aktash says, such
images would have been offered only as “the before” in a before-after story,
contrasting what the Chuvash lived like under the tsars with how much better
they lived under the communists, even though the Soviets routinely trivialized
the cultural and linguistic aspects of Chuvash identity.
But now in a post-Soviet film, made
in Moscow, the message is different, Aktash says. The Chuvash are to be treated
as backward then and still backward, even as their language and culture is
denigrated and attacked. That may not
both Russians or others, just as the National Geographic map didn’t in the
main, but it is an insult that justifies assimilation.
“To again show on the centenary of
the Chuvash autonomy of 2020 poor and barefoot rural Chuvash girls of the 19th
century is not very logical. This negative image does not correspond to the new
realities. Chuvash in Russia and beyond its borders long ago acquired a new
contemporary visage.”
“Now the task of the nation is to
preserve its native Chuvash language and the nation itself from assimilation,”
Aktash says; but the spread of such imagery means that Chuvash are being
encouraged to view themselves as something less than the Russians, a perspective
that only “accelerates assimilation.”
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