When I was preparing for a month-long study abroad trip to Hungary and Poland, taking first and second year college students to places they might not visit on their own, I decided to frame the course in terms of empire. For U.S. students even Austro-Hungary may be unknown, but in Budapest there are still physical and architectural traces of that empire, the Ottoman Empire and even the Roman empire. Heading to Warsaw gives me a chance to talk with them about partitioned Poland (1772 through 1918) and to discuss three empires: Russian, Prussian, and Austro-Hungarian. Plenty of fodder for conversation, especially in the context of today's European Union. What did it feel like to be a Polish subject in the Russian empire? A Jew in Austro-Hungary? A Ukrainian living in Warsaw or Budapest today?
The framing is related to my university's general education program, where students are required to take courses that help them think through ideas of citizenship. But it also gives us the opportunity to explore nationalism and identity. I grew up in the 1970s, the era of Roots, when everyone was talking about where their ancestors came from. I don't feel German, but for some reason in those days it was important to state that I am 75% German and the rest Scottish and English. Of course, in my childhood people still told Polack and other ethnic jokes--it wasn't all celebrations of ethnicity, that's for sure. Now, too, Americans are all about identity, though nationality and ethnicity come out mostly in summer festivals of Greek or Hispanic culture. (My favorite is the Columbus Asian Festival, "celebrating the heritage of Asia and the Pacific Islands." Great food, great music, great dance performances.) Or the Ohio State International Festival that takes place every February--Taste of OSU. Again food, music, dancing.
In 2019 my students and I went to an exhibit in Budapest devoted to the centennial anniversary of the end of World War I where we learned about the concept of "Greater Hungary" (Nagy-Magyarország)--Hungary before 1920 when the Treaty of Trianon resulted in a loss of two-thirds of its former territory and half its population. Since then I have come to learn more Serbian history as well, including the concept of "Greater Serbia." No one voluntarily gives up territory, but striving to retain it is costly and often requires inhumane tactics. His attempt to achieve "Greater Serbia" was one of the things that landed Slobodan Milošević at the International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia. Nationalism often goes hand-in-hand with ethnic cleansing.
This ultranationalism focused on ethnicity is dangerous. Also boring. I can't imagine that homogeneity is ever better than complexity, and the best cultural artifacts celebrate just that. A newish example I can recommend is the 2016 film The Constitution (Ustav Republike Hrvatske) about four people in a Zagreb apartment building.
Serbs, Croats, gay, straight, middle-aged and elderly, even war criminals: the film brings together human beings who need each other and helps (some of) them overcome their differences. Not hokey. I promise. (Though the war criminal is irredeemable.)
The novelist Ivo Andrić offers another complex case. Born in Bosnia to Catholic Croat parents, Andrić wrote his most famous novel, The Bridge over the River Drina, about four centuries of history in the town where he grew up, Višegrad. On the outskirts of the Ottoman empire, the town is able to function quite well, with Serbs, Turks, Sephartic Jews and Roma living together more or less peacefully before the 19th century, when nationalist tensions from various directions bring fighting. We remember how that ended for Europe, in the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand in Sarajevo and World War I. More locally, it meant that the Bridge over the River Drina was blown up--a visual for the destruction of connections between peoples of different ethnicities and religions.
If you're more into films than long, drawn-out novels (the pace of Bridge is one of its best features, but it takes some stamina!), I highly recommend Spring on the Last Lake (Proleće na poslednjem jezeru, 2020), which portrays Andrić during World War II, before he wrote the novel. Perhaps some of his wisdom as a novelist came from his experiences as a diplomat, a profession in which things are rarely black and white.
Since 2020 right-wing Serbian politicians have rebranded "Greater Serbia" as the "Serbian World," Srpski svet, which yes, rhymes very much with Putin's "Russian World" (Русский мир). Not a coincidence I'm sure. This desire to "gather the lands" again under one state structure hearkens back to the age of empires and can cause only more strife.
My own expertise lies further north, in Poland, and I think of a concept that emerged in partitioned Poland as one that might be a model for other countries in our current world. Not that I think Serbia or Ukraine or Russia should be partitioned, far from it. But the Poles figured out how to manage the fact that their people had been scattered--by choice or by accident--all over the world: by inventing the idea of Polonia.
If there was no Polish state, what would become of Polish culture? Polish language? Polonia emerges from 19th century Romantic messianic thought, that Poland will rise again if we keep her alive, but in practical terms, especially across the 20th century, it becomes something much more useful: a way to maintain ties between Poles who live in Chicago and Warsaw, Moscow and Buenos Aires. Polonia is an archipelago of Poles sustaining Polish language and culture outside the homeland.
My favorite Henryk Sienkiewicz story, "The Lighthouse Keeper" (Latarnik), features a protagonist who lives near Panama working in a lighthouse, alone, but who suddenly receives a box of Polish books. He loses himself in the beauty of Adam Mickiewicz's poem Pan Tadeusz ... and tragically fails in his duties, forgetting to light the lamp. Sienkiewicz had described the man's life as a "half-death" until Poland found him, thus highlighting the long reach of Polonia and the inability of Poles to live without it. The fact that a love of Poland causes a shipwreck and destroys his life as he loses his job and is cast back into the world points to the negative aspects of nationalism.
In the 20th century, though, Polish and some other cultures have been able to cultivate a healthier version of love of homeland that does not require obsession but enhances one's life. As I think about how badly Russia has muffed the 21st century, with its aggressive actions toward neighboring countries and its hostility to Europe that has only damaged its economy and reputation, I wonder about a much smarter alternative: a "Greater Russia" on the model of Polonia.
Imagine a healthy multi-ethnic, multi-lingual, multi-confessional state that has a network of well-wishing former citizens across the world. Talented IT workers in Dubai and San Jose, actors in New York, Tel Aviv and Tbilisi, bankers in London and Tokyo, professional athletes in Barcelona and Denver. All who love Russia, perhaps even love Russian language and culture, perhaps share this love with their neighbors in all those many places. More tourists come to explore this fascinating country. Students at schools and universities study its history and economy. Ballet companies tour, art works are shared, scientific innovations emerge from collaborative international laboratories.
We can't use the words "Russian World"--they have been tainted by Putin in his insane expansionist efforts via soft power (such as the Belgrade Church of St. Savva, funded in great part by him and his cronies) and all-out destructive war in Ukraine. And perhaps the ethno-nationalist term "Greater" (as in Hungary, Serbia) is also off limits. The current regime in the Russian Federation has destroyed Russia's reputation abroad--and frankly Russia itself--for the foreseeable future. But in a post-war post-imperial world, could Russia be bolstered and supported internationally by a Russia Abroad that consisted of friendly emigres, descendants of people from former Russian and/or Soviet spaces, lovers of Russian language and literature? Why make enemies and isolate yourself when you can build bridges and create cultural and even economic connections? Why destroy, when you can thrive, and allow others to thrive alongside you? Russia + Russia Abroad. It's a good idea.
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