This book explores how the countries of Eastern Europe, which were formerly part of the Soviet bloc have, since the end ...
Ideologies of Eastness in Central and Eastern Europe
This book explores how the countries of Eastern Europe which were formerly part of the Soviet bloc have, since the end of communist rule, developed a new ideology of their place in the world. Drawing on post-colonial theory and on identity discourses in the writings of local intelligentsia figures, the book shows how people in these countries no longer think of themselves as part of the “east”, and how they have invented new stereotypes of the countries to the east of them, such as Ukraine and Belarus, to which they see themselves as superior. The book demonstrates how there are a whole range of ideologies of “eastness”, how these have changed over time, and how such ideologies impact in a practical way on relations with countries further east. Tomasz Zarycki is an Associate Professor and Director of the Robert Zajonc Institute of Social Studies, University of Warsaw, Poland.
BASEES/Routledge Series on Russian and East European Studies Series editor: Richard Sakwa, Department of Politics and International Relations, University of Kent. Editorial Committee: Roy Allison, St Antony’s College, Oxford. Birgit Beumers, Department of Theatre, Film and Television Studies, University of Aberystwyth. Richard Connolly, Centre for Russian and East European Studies, University of Birmingham. Terry Cox, Department of Central and East European Studies, University of Glasgow. Peter Duncan, School of Slavonic and East European Studies, University College London. Zoe Knox, School of Historical Studies, University of Leicester. Rosalind Marsh, Department of European Studies and Modern Languages, University of Bath. David Moon, Department of History, University of York. Hilary Pilkington, Department of Sociology, University of Manchester. Graham Timmins, Department of Politics, University of Birmingham. Stephen White, Department of Politics, University of Glasgow. Founding Editorial Committee Member: George Blazyca, Centre for Contemporary European Studies, University of Paisley.
This series is published on behalf of BASEES (the British Association for Slavonic and East European Studies). The series comprises original, high-quality, research-level work by both new and established scholars on all aspects of Russian, Soviet, post-Soviet and East European Studies in humanities and social science subjects. 1 Ukraine’s Foreign and Security Policy, 1991–2000 Roman Wolczuk
4 Repression and Resistance in Communist Europe J. C. Sharman
2 Political Parties in the Russian Regions Derek S. Hutcheson
5 Political Elites and the New Russia Anton Steen
3 Local Communities and PostCommunist Transformation Edited by Simon Smith
6 Dostoevsky and the Idea of Russianness Sarah Hudspith
7 Performing Russia—Folk Revival and Russian Identity Laura J. Olson
15 Between Stalin and Hitler Class war and race war on the Dvina, 1940–46 Geoffrey Swain
8 Russian Transformations Edited by Leo McCann
16 Literature in Post-Communist Russia and Eastern Europe The Russian, Czech and Slovak fiction of the changes, 1988–98 Rajendra A. Chitnis
9 Soviet Music and Society under Lenin and Stalin The baton and sickle Edited by Neil Edmunds 10 State Building in Ukraine The Ukranian parliament, 1990–2003 Sarah Whitmore 11 Defending Human Rights in Russia Sergei Kovalyov, dissident and Human Rights Commissioner, 1969–2003 Emma Gilligan 12 Small-Town Russia Postcommunist livelihoods and identities: a portrait of the Intelligentsia in Achit, Bednodemyanovsk and Zubtsov, 1999–2000 Anne White 13 Russian Society and the Orthodox Church Religion in Russia after Communism Zoe Knox 14 Russian Literary Culture in the Camera Age The word as image Stephen Hutchings
17 The Legacy of Soviet Dissent Dissidents, democratisation and radical nationalism in Russia Robert Horvath 18 Russian and Soviet Film Adaptations of Literature, 1900–2001 Screening the word Edited by Stephen Hutchings and Anat Vernitski 19 Russia as a Great Power Dimensions of security under Putin Edited by Jakob Hedenskog, Vilhelm Konnander, Bertil Nygren, Ingmar Oldberg and Christer Pursiainen 20 Katyn and the Soviet Massacre of 1940 Truth, justice and memory George Sanford 21 Conscience, Dissent and Reform in Soviet Russia Philip Boobbyer 22 The Limits of Russian Democratisation Emergency powers and states of emergency Alexander N. Domrin
23 The Dilemmas of Destalinisation A social and cultural history of reform in the Khrushchev era Edited by Polly Jones
33 Re-constructing the Post-Soviet Industrial Region The Donbas in transition Edited by Adam Swain
24 News Media and Power in Russia Olessia Koltsova
34 Chechnya – Russia’s “War on Terror” John Russell
25 Post-Soviet Civil Society Democratization in Russia and the Baltic States Anders Uhlin
35 The New Right in the New Europe Czech transformation and right-wing politics, 1989–2006 Seán Hanley
26 The Collapse of Communist Power in Poland Jacqueline Hayden 27 Television, Democracy and Elections in Russia Sarah Oates 28 Russian Constitutionalism Historical and contemporary development Andrey N. Medushevsky 29 Late Stalinist Russia Society between reconstruction and reinvention Edited by Juliane Fürst 30 The Transformation of Urban Space in Post-Soviet Russia Konstantin Axenov, Isolde Brade and Evgenij Bondarchuk 31 Western Intellectuals and the Soviet Union, 1920–40 From Red Square to the Left Bank Ludmila Stern 32 The Germans of the Soviet Union Irina Mukhina
36 Democracy and Myth in Russia and Eastern Europe Edited by Alexander Wöll and Harald Wydra 37 Energy Dependency, Politics and Corruption in the Former Soviet Union Russia’s power, Oligarchs’ profits and Ukraine’s missing energy policy, 1995–2006 Margarita M. Balmaceda 38 Peopling the Russian Periphery Borderland colonization in Eurasian history Edited by Nicholas B. Breyfogle, Abby Schrader and Willard Sunderland 39 Russian Legal Culture Before and After Communism Criminal justice, politics and the public sphere Frances Nethercott 40 Political and Social Thought in Post-Communist Russia Axel Kaehne
41 The Demise of the Soviet Communist Party Atsushi Ogushi 42 Russian Policy towards China and Japan The El’tsin and Putin periods Natasha Kuhrt 43 Soviet Karelia Politics, planning and terror in Stalin’s Russia, 1920–39 Nick Baron 44 Reinventing Poland Economic and political transformation and evolving national identity Edited by Martin Myant and Terry Cox 45 The Russian Revolution in Retreat, 1920–24 Soviet workers and the new communist elite Simon Pirani 46 Democratisation and Gender in Contemporary Russia Suvi Salmenniemi 47 Narrating Post/Communism Colonial discourse and Europe’s borderline civilization Natas˘a Kovac˘ evic´ 48 Globalization and the State in Central and Eastern Europe The politics of foreign direct investment Jan Drahokoupil 49 Local Politics and Democratisation in Russia Cameron Ross
50 The Emancipation of the Serfs in Russia Peace arbitrators and the development of civil society Roxanne Easley 51 Federalism and Local Politics in Russia Edited by Cameron Ross and Adrian Campbell 52 Transitional Justice in Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union Reckoning with the communist past Edited by Lavinia Stan 53 The Post-Soviet Russian Media Conflicting signals Edited by Birgit Beumers, Stephen Hutchings and Natalia Rulyova 54 Minority Rights in Central and Eastern Europe Edited by Bernd Rechel 55 Television and Culture in Putin’s Russia: Remote Control Stephen Hutchings and Natalia Rulyova 56 The Making of Modern Lithuania Tomas Balkelis 57 Soviet State and Society Under Nikita Khrushchev Melanie Ilic and Jeremy Smith 58 Communism, Nationalism and Ethnicity in Poland, 1944–50 Michael Fleming
59 Democratic Elections in Poland, 1991–2007 Frances Millard 60 Critical Theory in Russia and the West Alastair Renfrew and Galin Tihanov 61 Promoting Democracy and Human Rights in Russia European organization and Russia’s socialization Sinikukka Saari 62 The Myth of the Russian Intelligentsia Old intellectuals in the new Russia Inna Kochetkova 63 Russia’s Federal Relations Putin’s reforms and management of the regions Elena A. Chebankova 64 Constitutional Bargaining in Russia, 1990–93 Institutions and uncertainty Edward Morgan-Jones 65 Building Big Business in Russia The impact of informal corporate governance practices Yuko Adachi 66 Russia and Islam State, society and radicalism Roland Dannreuther and Luke March 67 Celebrity and Glamour in Contemporary Russia Shocking chic Edited by Helena Goscilo and Vlad Strukov
68 The Socialist Alternative to Bolshevik Russia The Socialist Revolutionary Party, 1917–39 Elizabeth White 69 Learning to Labour in Post-Soviet Russia Vocational youth in transition Charles Walker 70 Television and Presidential Power in Putin’s Russia Tina Burrett 71 Political Theory and Community Building in Post-Soviet Russia Edited by Oleg Kharkhordin and Risto Alapuro 72 Disease, Health Care and Government in Late Imperial Russia Life and death on the Volga, 1823–1914 Charlotte E. Henze 73 Khrushchev in the Kremlin Policy and government in the Soviet Union, 1953–64 Edited by Melanie Ilic and Jeremy Smith 74 Citizens in the Making in Post-Soviet States Olena Nikolayenko 75 The Decline of Regionalism in Putin’s Russia Boundary issues J. Paul Goode
76 The Communist Youth League and the Transformation of the Soviet Union, 1917–32 Matthias Neumann 77 Putin’s United Russia Party S. P. Roberts 78 The European Union and its Eastern Neighbours Towards a more ambitious partnership? Elena Korosteleva 79 Russia’s Identity in International Relations Images, perceptions, misperceptions Edited by Ray Taras 80 Putin as Celebrity and Cultural Icon Edited by Helena Goscilo 81 Russia – Democracy Versus Modernization A dilemma for Russia and for the world Edited by Vladislav Inozemtsev and Piotr Dutkiewicz 82 Putin’s Preventative Counter-Revolution Post-Soviet authoritarianism and the spectre of Velvet Revolution Robert Horvath 83 The Baltic States from the Soviet Union to the European Union Identity, discourse and power in the post-communist transition of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania Richard Mole
84 The EU–Russia Borderland New contexts for regional cooperation Edited by Heikki Eskelinen, Ilkka Liikanen and James W. Scott 85 The Economic Sources of Social Order Development in Post-Socialist Eastern Europe Richard Connolly 86 East European Diasporas, Migration and Cosmopolitanism Edited by Ulrike Ziemer and Sean P. Roberts 87 Civil Society in Putin’s Russia Elena Chebankova 88 Post-Communist Poland – Contested Pasts and Future Identities Ewa Ochman 89 Soviet Economic Management under Khrushchev The Sovnarkhoz reform Nataliya Kibita 90 Soviet Consumer Culture in the Brezhnev Era Natalya Chernyshova 91 The Transition to Democracy in Hungary Árpád Göncz and the post-communist Hungarian presidency Dae Soon Kim 92 The Politics of HIV/AIDS in Russia Ulla Pape
93 The Capitalist Transformation of State Socialism The making and breaking of State Socialist society, and what followed David Lane 94 Disability in Eastern Europe and the Former Soviet Union History, policy and everyday life Edited by Michael Rasell and Elena Iarskaia-Smirnova
95 The Making and Breaking of Soviet Lithuania Memory and Modernity in the Wake of War Violeta Davoliu-té 96 Ideologies of Eastness in Central and Eastern Europe Tomasz Zarycki
Ideologies of Eastness in Central and Eastern Europe
Tomasz Zarycki
First published 2014 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN and by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2014 Tomasz Zarycki The right of Tomasz Zarycki to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patent Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Zarycki, Tomasz. Ideologies of eastness in Central and Eastern Europe / Tomasz Zarycki. pages cm. - - (BASEES/Routledge series on Russian and East European studies ; 96) Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. National characteristics, East European. 2. National characteristics, Central European. 3. Group identity- -Europe, Eastern. 4. Postcommunism- -Europe, Eastern. 5. Europe, Eastern- -Civilization. 6. Group identity- -Europe, Central. 7. Post-communism- -Europe, Central. 8. Europe, Central- -Civilization. I. Title. DJK26.5.Z37 2014 320.540947- -dc23 2013040876 ISBN: 978-0-415-62589-0 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-315-81900-6 (ebk) Typeset in Times New Roman by Taylor & Francis Books
Contents
List of figures Acknowledgements 1 Central and Eastern Europe and the idea of the East
xii xiii 1
2 Central and Eastern Europe in a center-periphery perspective
16
3 The dependence doxa: Western hegemony and its naturalization in Central and Eastern Europe
32
4 The intelligentsia doxa: the hegemony of the intelligentsia and its naturalization
64
5 Post-colonial theory in the Central European context
89
6 The Kresy (old borderlands) discourse and its critics
115
7 The new borderlands discourse
152
8 Constructing new identities for Eastern Poland
175
9 Belarussian, Lithuanian and Ukrainian reactions to Polish discourses on the East
229
10 Conclusions: critical theory in the Central European context
255
References Index
267 285
List of figures
2.1 Visions of relations of domination of the two principal political camps of Poland 2.2 Visions of relations of domination of the two principal political camps of Ukraine 2.3 Visions of relations of domination of the two principal political camps of Russia
21 22 23
Acknowledgements
I have been working on the book in the Robert B. Zajonc Institute for Social Studies at the University of Warsaw. I would like to thank my colleagues and the staff of the Institute for their support of my project. I am also very grateful to all representatives of several other institutions who supported my research, in particular, to those of them who shared their advice and agreed to be interviewed for the purposes of my research. I am particularly/especially grateful to all my interlocutors and all those who helped me during my research trips to Białystok, Lublin, Rzeszów, Vilnius, Kyiv, Lviv, Brest and Minsk. The list of persons who influenced my work intellectually would be too long to fit in this place. Here, however, I would like to mention Tomasz Warczok and thank him for the intellectual stimulation and his precious advice. He is actually the person with whom I have developed the Model of the field of power in a peripheral setting presented in this book. However, neither he nor any other person besides me, bears any responsibility for the way in which ideas in this book have been presented. I would like to thank Marian Stefan´ski of the University of Economics and Innovation in Lublin for granting me his permission to reproduce parts of two chapters from books edited by him: Zarycki, T. (2010) ‘Orientalism and images of Eastern Poland’, in M. Stefan´ski (ed.) Endogenous factors in Development of the Eastern Poland, pp. 73–88, Lublin: Innovatio . Press Wydawnictwo Naukowe Wyzszej Szkoły Ekonomii i Innowacji. ——(2011) ‘Eastern Poland in a center-periphery perspective’, in M. Stefan´ski (ed.) Strategic issues of the development of the Lublin region, pp. 95–112, Lublin: Innovatio Press Scientific Publishing House University of Economic and Innovation in Lublin.
These two texts have been partly used in Chapter 8. The research I present in this book was financed by the National Science Center of the Republic of Poland (Narodowe Centrum Nauki—NCN) within the framework of a project entitled: “Critical Analysis of the Polish Discourse on the East” (“Krytyczna analiza polskich dyskursów o ‘wschodzie’”; 2009–12, No. 4264/B/H03/2009/37).
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1
Central and Eastern Europe and the idea of the East
One of the key assumptions in this book, an assumption already discussed by several authors, posits that contemporary Central and Eastern Europe is a prisoner of what Edward Said called Orientalism. The region can be seen as both a victim of external orientalization and, at the same time, as a locus of intensive production of orientalist discourses. Moreover, as I am arguing, it is practically impossible to imagine this region without falling into the trap of Orientalism. Given such pessimistic assumption, I am not proposing any simple recipes of overcoming that orientalization. What I want to do instead is to understand the mechanisms which stand behind the discoursive stigmatization of that part of Europe. I am analyzing diverse discourses dealing with the Eastern identity of the region and its sub-regions. They range from local adaptations of post-colonial theory to discourses of regional identity developed in specific metropolitan centers. I consider all of them as constituting “Ideologies of Eastness” and try to elucidate them as ways of facing and responding to mechanisms of orientalization. At the same time, I will attempt to demonstrate how these ideologies themselves reproduce orientalist schemes. To achieve my aims, I will analyze selected discourses by presenting them in a wider context, one going much beyond the textual or symbolic dimension of social life. In particular, I propose a view on Central and Eastern Europe inspired by a broadly defined school of dependent development as well as by Stein Rokkan’s analysis of political cleavages. First of all, however, I am relying on Pierre Bourdieu’s theory, in particular, on his concepts of capitals and of the field of power. Using insights from these and selected other methodological approaches, I attempt to develop a model of orientalism in Central and Eastern Europe in which discoursive and symbolic processes are linked to economic and political developments. In doing so, however, I am trying to avoid not only what could be called discoursive reductionism, but also economic or political determinisms. I accomplish this, first of all, by proposing a model of a peripheral field of power through which mechanisms of dependence as well as diverse social forces, including cultural, economic and political processes, are mediated. At the same time, I suggest to view the peripheral field of power and its ideologies through the lens of critical theory, in particular, critical sociology which I clearly distinguish from public sociology. As I am arguing,
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the peripheral field of power generates two parallel reinterpretations of global and native discourses which I identify as liberal Euro-enthusiastic and conservative Euro-skeptical discourses. My thesis is that both of them are susceptible to the Orientalizing rhetoric and are not able, as they often claim, to distance themselves from structures of economic and political hierarchies and interests. Since Orientalist biases and dependencies on dominant social hierarchies are much more transparent and obvious in conservative discourses, I am devoting greater attention to the analysis of liberal discourses. My critical attitude to these liberal discourses is largely based on a conviction that calls for equality, dialogue or diversity, no matter how sincere and worthy of respect and support, are alone in themselves not capable to produce an ideal society. At the same time their practical implementation besides positive effects may generate new, non-obvious and often hidden inequalities and hierarchies. In this book, I will attempt to show how it may happen. The main case studies used in this book include Polish discourses of Eastness; more specifically those refereeing to and coming from Eastern Poland. I am, however, trying to show the wider context of these discoursive structures and to locate them within the structures of Central and Eastern European hierarchies of power. In the Polish case, I am focusing on two implicit assumptions of the dominant discourses of Eastness which I call doxa of dependence and doxa of the intelligentsia. While their roles may be different in particular Central and Eastern European countries, I believe that the model presented below will appear inspiring for students coming from other parts of the region and at the same time will stimulate discussion on restrictions and challenges to the application of critical theory outside its original Western context. Edward Said introduced the notion of Orientalism a couple of decades ago (Said, 1978). Said’s book gained a wide recognition in the world of academia and beyond, and defined a new notion of orientalism. Although Said’s Orientalism was confronted by numerous critiques and triggered several debates in which many of Said’s assertions have been challenged, the basic thesis of the book has been widely recognized. In particular, Said was credited for pointing to and labeling a specific mode in which the Middle East has been depicted in Western literature and other Western discourses, a mode which can be seen as biased in systematic and predictable ways. Shortly thereafter, the success of Said’s book inspired attempts at tracing similar structures in Western discourses referring to other areas of the world. One of these areas included Central and Eastern Europe. As a region being very close to the Western core, or even constituting a part of it or its “internal periphery”, Central and Eastern Europe may be seen as a real testing ground for Said’s model and, in a broader sense, for post-colonial theory. Lessons from this confrontation may in turn serve a wider goal of reflection on modern critical social theory. Therefore, in this book I want to reflect on how Orientalism, and, more generally, postcolonial theory function in reference to East Central Europe. In addition, I would like to offer my perspective on how this confrontation of Western and peripheral intellectual concepts with semi-peripheral social and political
The idea of the East
3
realities as well as with local intellectual contexts may be seen as inspiring for wider global audiences. One of the arguments I present in this book is that in the semi-peripheral conditions of Central Europe it is practically impossible to avoid discussing the identity of the region without falling into the trap of some form of what Said called Orientalism. Any contemporary discourse on this part of Europe will have to refer explicitly or implicitly to its semi-peripheral or dependent position in relation to the Western core. At the same time, by such a reference, this type of discourse will contribute to the reproduction of the region’s subordinate position and part of the “orientalist stereotypes”. I will, therefore, argue that any project which targets the symbolic emancipation of Central and Eastern Europe, in particular if defined uniquely in discoursive terms, will always prove to be impossible. Moreover, as I will try to exemplify by discussing several cases taken from the region, any such attempt could be considered as a proof of the above thesis. In other words, any discourse on the place of the region of Central and Eastern Europe in the contemporary political, economic and symbolic relations’ order, will have to be partly based on assumptions which can be considered orientalist to some extent. All such discourses could be called “ideologies of Eastness”. This book itself could not be considered free of such assumptions. There are, however, different ways of approaching the problem of the region’s dependence, and in effect, different ways of naturalization of its subordinate, weaker position. While this book can’t pretend to be uninvolved in the process of reproduction of the region’s orientalist stereotypes, it will try to build a reflexive perspective on these clichés by juxtaposing several positions which may mutually deconstruct their own limitations. However, as will be argued in the following chapters, without a comprehensive attempt at reconstructing the mechanism of economic, political and cultural relations within the global system of power, any intellectual attempt at overcoming the orientalist perspective on the peripheral region of Central and Eastern Europe will prove restricted. My main object of study in this book will be discourses on Central and Eastern Europe, both those which can be called “internal” as well as those which can be labeled “external”. However, one must be aware of the highly relative nature of distinctions between “inside” and “outside” discourses, particularly in the case of this region so closely linked to Western Europe. Its definitions and borders are stakes in symbolic and political games, and its location within the hierarchies of the wider European space are highly contested. Central and Eastern Europe is known for being simultaneously “inside” and “outside” Europe, as will be discussed at length later in this book. In any case, the discourses in question will be considered here as representing “ideologies of Eastness”, that is, as ways to address the “eastern” aspects of identity formed by communities located in this part of Europe. I will use the term “ideologies” in reference to a wide spectrum of discourses ranging from political speeches and media, through intellectual debates up to academic theories. This choice is based on my conviction that no clear boundary can be
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set between specific types of discourses Specifically, no academic discourse can pretend to have a status of neutral, non-ideological description of the social world. All of these discourses are deeply entrenched in the wider universe of social texts and their “ideological” character can be studied as is the case with all other types of discourses. Moreover, as selected examples from Central and Eastern Europe will illustrate, academic discourses are easily adopted in political and other fields. In addition, ideas developed in the framework of critical theory may suddenly migrate from academic texts, aspiring to analyze social processes, to a public discourse, including political speeches and media texts. Therefore, in this book, no clear distinction will be recognized between the “ideological” discourses of Eastern Europe and their “objective” analyses. I will look at a diverse spectrum of voices dealing with the problem of “eastness” in this part of Europe and try to contextualize them, more specifically, to examine their relationship to the symbolic forces of Orientalization that permeate the social space of this part of the continent. One of the crucial differences between East Central Europe and Said’s and other orientalists’ Orient is the ambiguity of the relationship towards Europe, which both regions have. While the old Orient was clearly separated from Europe and defined as fundamentally different, East Central Europe’s position is always unclear. It is constantly on the margins, on the verge of Europe. It is simultaneously an indelible part of Europe, and outside of Europe. The border between Western Europe that is “true” Europe and Eastern Europe is relative, contested and has an infinite number of incarnations. Maria Todorova has pointed to a similar pattern whereby the South-Eastern periphery of Europe was assigned an ambiguous status (Todorova, 1997). She contrasted Said’s Orientalism model based on the rule of binary opposition to discourses about the Balkans and their supposed ambiguity. Such a situation offers simultaneously advantages and disadvantages. While in classic post-colonial context hierarchies, at least these produced in the West, are clear and borders between nations, states, historical heritages, cultures or races are defined, stable and uncontested, in Central and Eastern Europe the very existence of difference becomes an object of dispute. As we know, even the very existence of the region, in particular that of Central Europe, is constantly questioned. Regions such as Central Europe, Central-Eastern Europe or the old Mittle Europa (Mittel Europa) and others are often considered “imagined”, artificial or temporal. As Atilla Melegh has noticed, we can even encounter acts of “denial” of their “real existence” as those who are in a midway of the eastwest hierarchy (Melegh, 2006). This turns our attention to a number of metaphors like “surface”, “fake”, “non-authentic”, “imitative”, “Potemkinvillage like”, and many others which are often applied to the region’s modernity and Europaness, qualities that as appear to be, as always, not genuine. Another kind of metaphor, which emphasizes a similar ambiguity is that of a lack of maturity, of a childish character. Yet another popular way of representing Central and Eastern Europe is linked to “liminality”. The region may be referred to as an “interface zone between civilizations”, however, it is the
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5
notion of a borderland which seems to best reflect this trend. This notion will be discussed in more detail in one of the following chapters. Marina Blagojevic´ argued that the indefiniteness of Central and Eastern Europe, and the vagueness of its position, may be related to the notion of the semi-periphery as it is understood in world system theory (Blagojevic´, 2009). As she wrote: in this reading then, the semi-periphery is a space located close to the core yet not the core itself, always “lagging behind” yet not distant enough to develop an alternative scale of evaluation, hence forever measuring itself with the yardstick of the core. Positioned between the center and the periphery, it has characteristics of both. It cannot be subsumed under the postcolonial subject, because, from the viewpoint of the periphery, it is “too white”, too industrial, too developed, and, most importantly, not eligible for claiming victimhood due to the absence of colonial experience. (Blagojevic´, 2009: 38) In its Balkan version, the region may play the role of Europe’s “internal Other” (Todorova, 1997) and its inhabitants may be perceived as “non-’White’ whites, non-European Europeans” (Blagojevic´, 2009: 27). To quote Ivana Spasic´, “the inhabitants of the semi-periphery have the option of recognizing themselves (partly) in Western ‘superiority’, but, not being ‘white’ enough, they cannot help feeling their collective self to be chronically deficient” (Spasic´, 2011: 275). Matthias István Köhler reminds us that in Wallerstein’s perspective, semi-peripheries serve as a buffer between the core and the peripheral areas, and prevent the core states against an uprising of the periphery. What is keeping together societies at the semi-periphery, is the ideology of catching-up with the core states (Köhler, 2012). Thus, most discourses on Central and Eastern Europe may give an impression that the region has a radically unclear definition, extremely complex relations with the Western world stemming from it being simultaneously inside and outside of this world, incomprehensible internal structure, multidimensionality of dependence, etc. At the same time, however, it would be difficult to question the fact that the region is structured by and can be assigned a position in a clear and almost universally recognized hierarchy. Atilla Melegh called it an “east-west slope”; József Böröcz used a notion of a “rule of the European Difference”; Merje Kuus wrote about “varying degrees of Europeanness and Eastness” (Kuus, 2004a); Marko Živkovic´ used a notion of “gradients of depreciation” (Živkovic´, 2011). This turns the region into a laboratory of exclusions and, more generally, of a symbolic violence based not so much on binary divisions between “us” and “them” but rather on hierarchies which are seemingly blurred, not easily admitted, implicit rather than explicit. The ambiguity of those hierarchies does not make them any less central for the organization of social life. I will, therefore, argue in this book for the crucial and often neglected role of hierarchies in an analysis of
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dependencies. The emphasis on hierarchies should, in my view, become much more central in the agenda of contemporary critical social theory. The region of Central and Eastern Europe with its specific forms of orientalism seems to illustrate this point well. Social hierarchies are often complex, ambiguous, contested and informal. This is what makes them so useful in reproduction and naturalization of power relations. While binary divisions are much more visible because of their well-defined character, complex hierarchies may be presented as irrelevant or “subjective”, which makes their work much more subtle. Interestingly, for different reasons, according to particular social norms requiring the formal recognition of an equal status of a given community’s members, including norms of politeness, because of the informal and contested/ disputed character of some of the hierarchies and many other reasons, on many occasions naming social hierarchies is not accepted in the public sphere. For instance, it is usually not accepted, at least in the broadly defined liberal discourse, to name dominant hierarchies of cultures, nations, religions, races or sexes. Alluding to them requires sometimes a negative form, that is, they may be mentioned only through their criticism, and presented as unjust inequalities or stereotypes. On the other hand, however, public discourse is permeated with discussions of hierarchies relating to the economic sphere. Often hierarchization is expressed in indirect forms, in particular, it can be transmitted through the hidden assumptions of many statements. Interestingly, however, there are several spheres in which open hierarchization is socially accepted and does not require use of indirect discoursive techniques. For instance, countries, regions and cities, as well as companies and individuals, are constantly compared and ranked according to their economic performance, attractiveness or innovativeness. Cultural institutions and artists can also be publicly ranked, just as parties and politicians are on scales of people’s support, or universities and academics are on scales of professional excellence, measured for example by citation indexes and other more complex indicators. These former hierarchies are publicly legitimized and spreading them is usually not perceived as a reproduction of stereotypes or inequalities. One could thus distinguish between spheres in which hierarchies are allowed to be publicly discussed, and those, where hierarchies are usually silenced and pushed into the sphere of implicit and informal forms of communication. Of particular importance in such context seems to be the border between these zones and the power of its delimitation. The power to determine which of the hierarchies are permitted to be named publicly and which should remain silenced allows certain hierarchies to be hidden by presenting them as unjustified and harmful to those who appeared in the bottom part. This does not necessarily mean that such a silencing will reduce their salience, in particular because they may be inherently related to socially recognized hierarchies which are considered “objective” and “rational” even if cruel. Thus, for instance, while hierarchization of national cultures may not be widely accepted in the modern public sphere, hierarchization of national economies is at the center of public discourses. Because of the common link of these hierarchies to the general
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status hierarchies of countries, an implicit ranking of national cultures, even if theoretically assumed as equal, is possible. Therefore, we could note that the liberal principles of equality and those of political, religious or racial neutrality or fairness are in practice applied quite selectively in particular fields. On the one hand, there are those fields where these liberal principles are interpreted as a requirement for silencing any public references to dominant hierarchies which could be considered unjust and whose naming might heave performative effects. On the other hand, there are fields where the dominant hierarchies can be openly discussed. Naming them in such contexts is often seen as a positive incentive for all those seen as involved in a democratic and more or less just competition. We could note that in the modern Western culture one of the criteria used to legitimize the above mentioned border between fields where open hierachization is recognized and those where it is taboo-ized, is the assignment of agency. Those objects which are assigned agency and thus can be considered free to develop their status are usually “rankable”. Features and objects which are considered “given”, stable, those which cannot be changed by free actors, are usually considered as being politically incorrect to be ranked. Such distinctions, however, in particular when attribution of agency is concerned, may be very arbitrary. Moreover, hierarchies, which are considered “natural” and thus “irrelevant”, that is, requiring silencing, are usually strongly related to those which are publicly recognized. Most importantly, however, one could argue that the fact of silencing politically incorrect hierarchies does not make them disappear. It is, of course, a highly contested issue to what extent silencing unwanted hierarchies reduces their impact. On the one hand, we can argue that the very act of naming some hierarchies reproduces them and, in effect, reinforces their impact. On the other hand, silencing some hierarchies may be seen as resulting in masking them and in this way, making their impact less visible but possibly more penetrating. The communist period in Central and Eastern Europe provides a wide number of spectacular examples of bans on publicly discussing hierarchies which existed in the informal sphere despite official declarations of equality for all citizens. One could note that using such a perspective, in which symbolic depreciation may be an aspect of a much wider power relations structure, implies a need for a more reflexive use of such notions as “stereotype”, “myth” or “inferiority complex”. As it may appear, the later notion may refer to weaknesses of nations, regions or other communities, which have much deeper roots beyond the surface symbolic depreciation. In many instances, as in the case of Central and Eastern Europe, we may deal with cases of what could be called “actual inferiority” in the sense of its non-purely psychological or cultural character, but particularly pertaining to the region’s economic and political domain, or low symbolic status. This “actual inferiority” notion could be condemned on moral or other grounds, but is widely recognized and can be considered as a social fact. One of the important assumptions of the liberal approach to social order is that the political and, especially, economic weakness of specific actors
8
The idea of the East
should not be used as a basis for making any moral judgments about those actors, in particular, implying their cultural inferiority. It would be indeed hard to question, in particular, from the point of view of most systems of European values, a view that human dignity should not by denied to anyone, and thus, the act of suggesting moral inferiority on the basis of economic or political status is condemnable. However, one can’t deny the inherent interdependency between spheres of culture and moral judgments, on the one hand, and those of economics and politics, on the other hand. Thus, while the assignment of equal dignity to all human beings may be a respectable ideal and a recognized political value, for an empirical researcher it seems important to distinguish between his/her political and moral convictions, and his/her duty to reconstruct the actual mechanisms of the social world, in particular, to study the processes producing actual differentiations in terms of one’s moral status in dominant hierarchies of prestige and culture. Such studies involving the reconstruction of actually existing hierarchies of not only economic and political, but also cultural and moral character, should not be produced with an intention of using them as a basis of legitimization of these hierarchies. On the other hand, one has to recognize that any attempt at addressing inequalities implies a risk of reinforcing these very inequalities simply by an act of discussing them in public, even through a critical perspective. This is due to the mechanism of a social production of facts, the so-called performative aspect of discourse, which refers to the fact that any act of naming an object is also reinforcing its social existence. One can’t exclude the possibility that even this book, despite its author’s best intentions, may also have some unintended effects of this type. The author has already experienced on several occasions that his earlier texts have been quoted as arguments confirming the relevance of some type of inequality or stereotype, while the author’s original intention was to simply identify persistence of some social hierarchies and often, even to criticize them. I would argue that such risks appear in particular when we attempt to confront inequalities uniquely in the discoursive dimension. Thus any attempt at challenging social hierarchies should, as it seems, involve a distinction between at least the three fundamental spheres of social life which could be related to the three types of capital identifies by Bourdieu: economic, cultural and political (social). In this context one could also quote Larry Wolf ’s analysis of the discourse of Western media on Central and Eastern Europe as a good example of the above discussed ambivalence (Wolff, 2012). Thus, for instance, he discussed a cover of the Economist weekly from the early 1990s depicting “Eastern Europeans” impatiently waiting to be admitted to the European Union. Eastern European nations have been symbolized as clearly poor and uncultured peasants standing at the door of a rich mansion in which the leaders of Western European countries were enjoying a lavish dinner. For Wolf such a provocative picture was an unacceptable manifestation of orientalism, or even racism, towards Central and Eastern Europeans. One could, however, argue that the cover of the Economist was a very frank recognition of the deeply seated orientalist notions of the Westerners
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and, therefore, an excellent critique of that phenomenon. In other words, the picture in question would be only a reflection and, at the same time, a critique, given its ironic character, of a symbolic inequality that has a much deeper character and should not be silenced, as Wolf would suggest, but discussed in public. Such a contextual approach to inequalities implies my specific attitude towards the notion of a stereotype. Stereotypes in such context could be defined as politically incorrect generalizations or non-legitimized cultural interpretations. Assuming such a distanced stance towards stereotypes could imply that their analysis should be based on identification of dominant rules defining specific generalizations as “stereotypical” and, in particular, condemnable. This would specifically imply a focus on the mechanisms of constructing borders between the academic field and the domains of informal opinions as well as other domains lacking sufficient symbolic legitimization. These borders seem to constitute key points of reference for producing a distinction between “stereotypes” and “factual statements”. At the same time, the borders may be seen as an area of constant negotiations generating numerous ambiguities and open conflicts. The region of Central and Eastern Europe seems to provide many examples of the ambiguity of interpretations regarding its status or nature, which, for some, can have a “stereotypical” or “mythical” character, while for others, those interpretations may constitute “objective” cultural or historical facts. In particular, they may be seen in the case of questions dealing with historically defined visions of the region’s backwardness, and of those referring to “psychological” or “mental” factors. The hypothesis that will be presented in this book is that the world of academia is strongly involved in the process of reproduction of images which are often considered as stereotypical, in particular, of orientalist character. More specifically, the academia is providing visions of the world in which economic and political inequalities are being naturalized particularly in cultural, psychological and historical terms. In this way, these visions serve as a legitimization for domination over the region, both on a continental scale, as well as on numerous lower level dimensions. When we move, however, from the communist period with its clear-cut rules and well defined institutions such as censorship, to the contemporary post-communist world of liberal values and fewer formal restrictions imposed on academic or media discourse, the analysis becomes much more difficult. A good example of such a trend is the view presented by Gerard Delanty, who suggested that: the core–periphery distinction is no longer the only model available for understanding marginality and patterns of growth and change in Europe today. Europeanization and globalization have, to an extent, eroded the core–periphery distinction insofar as this was a simple polarity. ( … ) What has emerged instead is a more complicated spatial structure, which could be understood in terms of the notion of a network; a structure that
10
The idea of the East is more polycentric and which entails a basic pluralization of the core– periphery relation. In this sense, then, the older core–periphery relation is one that was more a feature of the pre-1989 model of Western Europe, while the advent of a post-Western Europe signals a different spatial dynamic in which cosmopolitan orientations are present. ( … ) It would be tempting to suggest that the appropriate metaphor for the European border, and of Europe itself, is not the fortress, but the Deleuzean notion of a post-imperial ‘Empire’ as theorized by Hardt and Negri (2000): the lack of frontiers and a movement that has no territorial limits and which is not spearheaded by a state-led project. (Delanty, 2009: 248)
One could argue, however, that in many aspects, the territorial hierarchies did not weaken, even if the nature of domination has largely changed, in particular, in the dimension of institutionalized politics, economy and culture. Taking the case of the European continent, its present day arrangement could be seen as much more strongly hierarchically organized around one single dominant Western core area than ever before. In contrast, before 1989, the Soviet Union could be seen as an attempt of building an alternative center pole, which even if eventually waned, exerted strong impact on the European space, altering the traditional core-periphery structures. The ambiguity of the latter was particularly high in Central Europe, a region which can be now seen as much more clearly subordinated to the single Western European core. An interesting case in point is a study of border discourses which Ulrich Best conducted regarding the Polish–German borderland (Best, 2007). As Best argues, an image of the enlarged European Union as a borderless, permeable space can be considered to become a dominant paradigm in recent years. Its organizes the discourse of government agencies, mainstream media, EU institutions and, last but not least, of most of the social sciences, including political geography and border studies literatures that deal with this part of Europe. In these narratives the notion of “border as a barrier” has been replaced by phrases such as the “space of flows”, “spirit of transgressions”, “interaction and cooperation”. Ulrich Best shows that in such a context where crossborder cooperation has become mainstream politics, a new structure of power has emerged. Border-transgression, which used to be a critical benchmark of state sovereignty, has now been incorporated into its ruling structures. At the same time, power relations between the states are still in place but operate through such arrangements as “cooperation projects” guided by formal rulebooks, which define “good practices” for every encounter with the “Other”. As Best suggests, practices of resistance to the former constellation—what used to be transgressive—have now been turned into practices of power in the new constellation. Thus, the proliferation of discourses on “inclusion”, “opening” and “integration” is accompanied by new increasing inequalities which in most cases work in much more subtle ways. Usually, they are based on local hierarchies reproduced and imposed through a myriad of institutions,
The idea of the East
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procedures and micro-interactions. While formal borderlines are being diluted, the process of tracing exclusion, hidden in naturalized hierarchies, becomes more and more difficult. This insight into the new technologies of power for which hierarchies appear critical, which can be gained in Central and Eastern Europe, can be used in discussion with Chantal Mouffe’s critique of the rhetoric of modernity presented in her book On the political (Mouffe, 2005). Mouffe is inspired by Carl Schmidt’s argument regarding the inalienability of the friend-enemy distinction. Mouffe argues that the modern liberal project is based on false claims of overcoming that political distinction, and, more generally, the we/ they distinction, foundational for any political community. The new enemy of the political community, as Mouffe argues, are “traditionalists” and “fundamentalists”, who are excluded and denied civil rights as enemies. What Mouffe seems to ignore is the growing role of formal and informal hierarchies. The changes she describes, such as proliferation of ideologies of individualization, cosmopolitism or reflexivity, not only deny the existence of the we/they divisions, but at the same time create new important hierarchies which serve as tools of power and domination maintenance. As “cosmopolitanism”, “dialogism” or “reflexivity” became a norm, the problem is not only that their rejection implies exclusion. More importantly, their recognition implies assignment to a certain position on scales of formal and informal hierarchies. As it appears in practice, it is difficult to be always and in all respects recognized as fully cosmopolitan, fully dialogic and open or selfreflexive. In effect, new hierarchies emerge, those which measure the degree of mastery of the new attitudes and cultures of openness. There are those who are higher and lower within the hierarchies created by these norms. Thus, the term “agonism” proposed by Mouffe as an alternative to “antagonism”, seems to ignore the problem of proliferation of new hierarchies and their often hidden character. Moreover, it may itself become a new hierarchy of status allowing a privileged status to those recognized as displaying agonic attitudes over those who would be seen as prisoners of antagonistic thinking. We, therefore, seem to observe a tendency in liberal academic discourses to replace openly recognized divisions by implicit hierarchies, including those build by the new “emancipatory” discourses, and where, in effect, exclusion or the definition of “enemy” becomes less visible because becoming one is a matter of degree. This tendency seems to be well visible in Central and Eastern Europe where local attitude towards the notion of “east” seems to be an excellent example of that tendency. While the “east” is in most cases not rejected in identity discourses of the region, which usually refer in some other indirect forms to “eastern” motives, one can trace systematic tendencies of distancing oneself from the “east” and assigning “full Eastness” to significant negative others. The above-mentioned process of masking hierarchies of power and domination is, of course, not specific of the region of Central and Eastern Europe. Its manifestations in Eastern Europe may be seen as symptoms of a much
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The idea of the East
more general tendency to restructure mechanisms of power in the contemporary Western world. One of the pioneers of analysis of the informal and often invisible mechanism of power in modern societies is, of course, Michel Foucault. His notion of “governmentality” referring to such techniques of power as producing citizens best suited to fulfill governmental policies and organized practices (mentalities, rationalities, and techniques) through which subjects are governed, seems to describe well the above mentioned process of redefinition of functioning of the social hierarchies. It entails a move of mechanisms of power to lower levels of social organization, at which they are no longer perceived as mechanisms of power, but rather as “natural” everyday practices. In effect, they become masked under seemingly neutral distinctions imbedded in these practices, such as distinctions between “rational” and “irrational”, “future oriented” and “past oriented”, “clear-headed” and “emotional” or “coherent” and “chaotic”. That process of redefinition of mechanisms of social control may be also related to the processes of transformation of modern Western societies, in particular, to what has been called by Luc Boltanski and Ève Chiapello the “new spirit of capitalism” (Boltanski and Chiapello, 2005). One of its elements in this new dominant vision of a social world, is the idea of “flexible networks” as the imperative and ideal to be reached. This implies a wider tendency of producing a vision of post-hierarchical, de-centralized forms of social organization, in which explicit references to most of the key social hierarchies often becomes a taboo. These hierarchies remain hidden in discourses of inclusion, which implicitly order fields of power according to their unspoken criteria. These new mechanisms of power, in which hierarchies become masked by visions of “network society”, “openness” or “transgressions”, seem to be particularly important as they become key elements of the apparatus of control over the region of Central and Eastern Europe. Former communist-states of the region are in their majority formally considered as equal to all other members of the European Union. The exercise of power between them and the core of the Western world is more and more redefined into a sphere of governmentality. Actors in the region are increasingly disciplined by discourse and psychological techniques such as responsibilization and normalization. Analyses in this book will attempt to provide a number of examples of these processes. The problem of analyzing implicit hierarchies may be also related to the key dilemmas of the critically oriented social sciences. In particular, public sociology is naturally tending to emphasize the value of equality. Naming hierarchies, in particular, those hidden, may be problematic from such a point of view, given the performative nature of any act of naming. As mentioned above, only by identifying some hierarchies in the public discourse, we may indeed risk being accused of their legitimization. This is a cost of social inquiry which may be difficult to avoid. One could refer in this context to the famous Werner Heisenberg’s “uncertainty principle”, which is a form of a more general effect in physics, called the observer effect, which notes that measurements of certain systems cannot be made without affecting other
The idea of the East
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systems. In a similar way, any act of referring to a certain dimension of inequality, in particular, one located in a symbolic dimension, may also lead to its reproduction. This seems to be an aspect of a wider dilemma between political ideals of equality or justice and academic ideals of objectivity, truth and empiricism. While the former lead towards a normative stance and involve aspiration of societal improvement, the latter lead towards a descriptive stance which involves reconstruction of social relations irrespectively of the consequences which their public portrayal may cause. In this book, I lean towards the latter approach, which tends to be closer to the paradigm of critical rather than public sociology, as they have been defined by Michael Burawoy (Burawoy, 2005a). That is, I lean towards a sociology which, according to Burawoy, “examines the foundations-both the explicit and the implicit, both normative and descriptive – of the research programs of professional sociology”, rather than public sociology, which according to him “strikes up a dialogic relation between sociologist and public in which the agenda of each is brought to the table, in which each adjusts to the other” (Burawoy, 2005b: 10).1 In this context one could also relate to an opposition between two visions of society, on the one hand, those based on ideas of consensus and harmony, while, on the other hand, those based on irreconcilable differences of interests and conflicts, although not necessarily leading to direct violence. Martti Siisiäinen demonstrated how these two opposite approaches translate into two understandings of the notion of social capital (Siisiäinen, 2003). The two emblematic figures who can be considered good representatives of these approaches, are respectively Pierre Bourdieu (earlier also Carl Schmitt) and Robert Putnam. One can note that the conflict-based vision of society, which will be emphasized in this book, is much more open to reconstruction of formal and informal hierarchies, considered in this approach as innate elements of a social system. At the same time, the integration and consensus-based vision of society tends to minimize their role and avoid their open discussion, since the opposite is seen as a factor hindering the implementation of the conflict-free visions of social order. One of the reasons why hierarchies may be perceived as hidden, invisible or implicit while simultaneously being able to reproduce themselves and to have considerable impact on other social processes, lies in their embeddedness in wider social structures. These structures may be composed of interrelated power structures defined in diverse dimensions, or, to use Pierre Bourdieu’s language, in different fields. This argument may also pertain to workings of orientalism towards and within Central and Eastern Europe. The dependent status of a region may be seen as constructed of several layers and in such context its discoursive aspects may be seen as only some of its multiple dimensions. One could thus argue that it would be impossible to challenge or even understand any discoursive marginalization simply on a discoursive or cultural level. Moreover, as argued above, such a strategy of a narrow focus on discoursive aspects of social reality may make key power hierarchies even less visible and, in effect, more effective. This is the context in which I will
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The idea of the East
attempt to adapt an interdisciplinary approach to the problem of orientalism and ideologies of Eastness. While my focus will remain at the level of discourse, and the critical discourse analysis will be my key tool of analysis, I will try to avoid what can be called discoursive reductionism. I will attempt this by linking discoursive analyses to insights from economic and political geography, sociology of knowledge, sociology of elites, economic analysis, and, last but not least, critical geopolitics. This approach will rely primarily on Wallerstein’s world-system perspective, in which Central and Eastern Europe is seen as a semi-periphery dependent on the Western core. In addition, it is inspired by the work of Ernesto Laclau and Chantal Mouffe who suggest that the whole social space is engaged in the process of creating meaning and, therefore, is of discoursive character (Laclau and Mouffe, 1985). A distinction between the discoursive and the non-discoursive is consequently seen by them as obsolete. I consider this a radical view and therefore prefer to adapt a more contextual approach. This approach would be based on an assumption that while the distinction between the discoursive and non-discoursive aspects of the social world is relative, it may be observed in particular social practices and should be studied as a social fact. At the same time, I will follow their view on language and practice as forms of discoursive signification and creation of meaning. Following Bourdieu, I will try to overcome John Austin’s semiotic reductionism, referring to a perspective that views the pragmatic power of linguistic utterances as being dependent mainly on their form and on the intentions of participants in given interaction sequences. Instead, I will look at the broader social context location where this type of power is defined by the power of particular actors, by their location in specific fields as well as by the linguistic and symbolic features of discourses they use. A particularly important dimension of that context for the analysis of discourses like those addressed in this book, is the location of speakers in the general geopolitical space, or to use a vocabulary inspired by Wallerstein, their location in the hierarchies of the world system. Jan Blommaert pointed out that this key dimension is usually neglected in most schools of critical discourse analysis (Blommaert, 2005). An inspiring approach which can be seen as a way of challenging the restrictions of semiotic reductionism or, what might be called, ‘discourse-imperialism’, is Cultural Political Economy (CPE) proposed by Bob Jessop. He imagines it as means both to critique and to contextualize recent claims about ‘culturalization’ of economic life in the new economy. According to his proposition: CPE critiques the categories and methods typical of orthodox political economy and emphasizes the inevitable contextuality and historicity of the latter’s claims to knowledge. It rejects any universalistic, positivist account of reality, denies the facticity of the subject-object duality, allows for the co-constitution of subjects and objects, and eschews reductionist approaches to economic analysis. But it also stresses the materiality of social relations and highlights the constraints involved in processes that
The idea of the East
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operate ‘behind the backs’ of the relevant agents. It is especially concerned with the structural properties and dynamics that result from such material interactions. It thereby escapes both the sociological imperialism of pure social constructionism and the voluntarist vacuity of certain lines of discourse analysis, which seem to imply that agents can will anything into existence in and through an appropriately articulated discourse. In short, CPE recognizes both the constitutive role of semiosis and the emergent extra-semiotic features of social relations and their conjoint impact on capacities for action and transformation. (Jessop, 2004: 3) Following these suggestions made by Jessop, I will try to relate the ideologies of Eastness, discussed in this book, to the economic process, or to see them as related or as a part of what Jessop called “economic imaginary”. As Jessop posited, an economic imaginary should be “capable of translation into a specific set of material, social, and spatio-temporal fixes that jointly underpin a relative ‘structured coherence’ to support continued accumulation. If this proves impossible, the new project will prove ‘arbitrary, rationalistic, and willed’ rather than ‘organic’” (Jessop, 2004: 3). As I will argue below, most of the ideologies of Eastness in Central and Eastern Europe could be seen as synergic with economic processes and dependencies observed in the region. Their relations may not be simple and obvious—for example, some of the discoursive structures may be seen primarily as tools for naturalizing or masking economic dependencies. Nevertheless, it seems that the study of these relations, even if not leading to a comprehensive reconstruction of social relations in this part of Europe, may provide important insights into the wider context and functions of identity discourses in the region.
Note 1 Let me remind the reader here that Burawoy’s two criteria of this “division of sociological labor” were the questions “for whom” and “for what” do we pursue sociology? These two questions defined two dimensions of his typology. The first one pits sociology for academic audience (professional and critical sociologies) against sociology for an extra-academic audience (policy and public sociologies); the second one opposes the production of instrumental knowledge (professional and policy sociologies) to the production of reflexive knowledge (public and critical sociologies).
2
Central and Eastern Europe in a center-periphery perspective
The perspective on the mechanism of production of what can be called “ideologies of Eastness” in Central and Eastern Europe, adopted in this book, is based on a center-periphery paradigm. The proposed frame of reference will be based on a combination of Pierre Bourdieu’s relational analysis and theories of dependent and path-dependent development, primarily those put forwards by Immanuel Wallerstein and Fernand Braudel. As far as the Bourdieu’s approach is concerned, I am particularly inspired by his vision of the social world as composed of multiple fields where actors accumulate and exchange different types and sub-types of capital. As far as dependence theories are concerned, I primarily draw on the Wallerstein’s world-system theory and Stein Rokkan’s analysis of political cleavages. Let me remind the reader that Bourdieu proposed a distinction between three fundamental forms of capital: economic, cultural and social. A specific form of social capital in Bourdieu’s perspective is political capital (Bourdieu, 1986). In his model each type of capital can attain status of symbolic capital, which is a situation where it acquires extra efficiency based on its recognition as legitimate. Bourdieu’s assumption is that possession of capitals, in particular those being simultaneously recognized as symbolic capital, allows the exercise of symbolic violence towards others. It may help build what may be called a symbolic hegemony, that is, a state of affairs in which the dominant actor is able to present his/her own values and goals as universal. These mechanisms modeled by Bourdieu, mostly in terms of relations between actors located within one nation-state, can be related to structures of global interdependencies, in particular, to their model proposed by Wallerstein. The power of the core regions within the world-system in such a view could be defined in terms of their resources of different types of capital. Wallerstein argued that the core countries are characterized by strong state machinery and high levels of national culture integration. These can be interpreted, in Bourdieu’s language, as, respectively, large, coherent and state supported and legitimized assets of political and cultural capital. Strong states at the core of the world system have a particular ability to mark their resources of economic and political capital with a status of symbolic capital making them attractive and respected beyond the borders of their native states. When exported to the peripheries, these capitals often enjoy honored
A center-periphery perspective
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status of resources perceived as prestigious and, at the same time, as representing universal values. In this way national currencies may attain a role of global currencies, national cultures and their languages become universal, while national political cultures are transformed into universal models of ideal political systems. Stein Rokkan’s studies on modern state building processes focused on the development of political cleavages and electoral geographies on a mostly national level (Rokkan, 1970). However, Rokkan also looked at broader structures of European dependencies, in particular, at heritages of empires and other greater political entities. As Stein Rokkan and Derek Urwin argued, any analysis of the peripheral regions is partial without taking into account their relations with their respective centers. More specifically, Rokkan and Urwin (Rokkan and Urwin, 1983), in their analysis of geographical patterns, distinguish three dimensions of state organization which correspond to the tree types of capital proposed by Bourdieu. They include an economic system, an administrative system and a cultural system. In a way similar to Bourdieu, Rokkan and Urwin identified the economic dimension of the social system as a dominant one in modern Western European societies. Consequently, they saw economic processes as embedded in wider social systems, but largely shaping political dynamics (key example is the emergence of nation states) and cultural developments (key example is the Reformation). Wallerstein’s perspective on peripheries and semi-peripheries as areas dependent on centers may be seen as being complementary to Rokkan’s scheme. Dependence in both of these models can also be framed in terms of Bourdieu’s capitals, the unequal distribution of which defines more central and more peripheral regions of the world. What is of importance in both approaches is that the specific status of individuals, groups or regions and their capital assets can be analyzed in a historical perspective, one taking into account the genesis and the changing context of their concentration. From a world system theory perspective, the countries of Central and Eastern Europe are usually classified as semi-peripheral in relation to the Western and, in particular, the West European core. Wallerstein devoted particular attention to the status of Poland in the world system and its historical roots (Wallerstein, 1974b). The semi-peripheral status of the entire region seems obvious, in particular after the fall of the communist system and the Soviet Union’s demise. Russia is still a relatively influential and powerful country, in particular in the context of the region, but its dependence on the Western core is considerable, in particular in the economic and cultural dimension (Kagarlitsky, 2008). I will not try to assess the exact position of specific countries of the region and, in particular, to establish which of them firmly belong to the “semi-peripheral” zone, and which are closer to the more distant peripheral region. In some contexts, such distinctions may, of course, be relevant. In this book however, references to such a detailed model of the world-system do not seem indispensable. Here, I won’t attempt to provide an overview of the geopolitical history of Central and Eastern Europe either. Later in the book, a short summary of the
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A center-periphery perspective
evolution of Eastern Poland’s position will be provided as a case study, which can illustrate the approach adopted in this book. Here let me only remind the reader that the region’s peripheral location in relation to the Western European core has a clearly historical genesis. This has been made especially clear in the classic Wallerstein study. In his seminal “Modern World-System”, Wallerstein estimated the roots of dependence of Central Europe, in particular of Poland, as going back to at least the seventeenth century (Wallerstein, 1974b). Another specific historical process was the emergence, in the eighteenth century, of a relatively strong peripheral empire, namely Russia. Russia consequently became a secondary (in relation to the Western core), but, at times, a powerful second pole of power in the region. For the entire nineteenth century, the Russian Empire controlled much of Central Europe, while its remaining parts were under the control of the Austrian and Prussian empires. After transforming itself into the Soviet Union after the First World War, by 1945 Russia managed to take under its control a considerable part of the continent, in particular, the entire area of Central and Eastern Europe. At the same time, one could argue that the Soviet Union remained in many aspects dependent on the core of the world system and, in effect, peripheral to it in different aspects. Therefore, the region of Central Europe remained constantly under dual dependence of changing proportions. Finally, about 1990, the Russian/Soviet grip over Central Europe weakened and eventually waned, while a major part of the region returned under the direct influence of the Western core. The process of changing the balance of forces over the region, in particular, the cycle from the moment of expansion of the Soviet Block into Central Europe in 1945 to its demise in 1989, was labeled by Iván Berend a “detour from periphery to the periphery” (Berend, 1996). József Böröcz in turn noted that the withdrawal of the Soviet Union from Central Europe in 1989 produced what he called a “property vacuum”, soon filled by Western capital (Böröcz, 1992). However, the dynamics of these processes was quite different in specific parts of Central and Eastern Europe. While the entire region of Central and Eastern Europe can be seen as currently strongly dependent on the Western core, the nature of this dependence is different in its different parts. In this book, I will divide the region into three basic zones in order to make the discussion about the basis mechanisms of its dependence more clear. The three regions I will distinguish, differ by their degree and nature of Western domination, but also by their construction of political scenes, which translates Western domination and Western discourses, including critical such discourses, in very different ways. Let me characterize them in the following way: The first zone is the so-called Central Europe, consisting of the former “socialist” or “communist” states remaining under Soviet control until 1989. The zone is currently an internal periphery of the European Union, and the domination of the Western core is most clear in that region. The political scenes in the countries of the region evolved, as it will be discussed with more detail below, from oriented towards the former Soviet
A center-periphery perspective
19
domination in the direction of being oriented towards Western domination. Hungary and Poland seem the most illustrative cases for this group of states, where cleavages pitting anti- and post-communists have been replaced by cleavages pitting liberal Euro-enthusiasts and conservative Euro-skeptics. The second zone is a transitional sector between the European Union and Russia. Ukraine is probably the most representative state for that region. A common trait of the countries of that zone is the legacy of being a part of the former Soviet Union. Therefore much stronger current Russian economic, cultural and, at times, political influences can be observed in this region than in the countries included in zone one. The so called Baltic States of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania may be seen as located on the verge of zones one and two, as they share the Soviet legacy with current membership in the European Union. Belarus is a borderline case between zones two and three. In the third zone Russia is the main actor, forming a semi-autonomous peripheral pole on the eastern verge of the region. The third zone is characterized by the most restricted influence of the Western core. Here, the relatively strong states of Russia, to a lesser extent Belarus which could be seen as belonging to both zones two and three, are resisting in many aspects the influences of Western European institutions and the global system of power. The relative political autonomy of this zone is also protecting this area from the forces of the global economic system. In contrast to zone one, key sectors of the economy, including extraction of natural resources and banking, remain under the control of the state. Still, the pressure of the global system is very clear and it produces a structure of the political scene similar to those of zone one. The political scene is dominated by a cleavage developed as a result of a reaction to Western domination. The main difference is, however, that the Euro-skeptic camp in Russia is, first of all, much more radically critical of the West as such, than the conservatives of Central Europe (zone one) who basically accept the membership of their countries in the European Union, while demanding more privileged conditions of that membership. Second, Russia’s conservative camp is the ruling group, relying on the considerable political and economic resources of its semi-authoritarian state. At the same time, the liberal pro-European camp, which is currently (in 2013) a ruling camp in countries like Poland, in Russia is clearly marginalized, and has a very restricted impact on political institutions. The intermediary zone two, while under growing Western influence, remains strongly dominated by contemporary Russia and the heritage left by Soviet domination. Political scenes here are, in effect, organized predominately by a reaction to Soviet and Russian domination, that is, they are based on cleavages pitting anti-Russian anti-communists to neo-communists and pro-Russian forces. Liberal pro-European forces are often allied with conservative anticommunists, as it has been the case in zone one until recently. In other words,
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A center-periphery perspective
Western domination in zone two produces a tension between Euro-enthusiastic liberals and conservative nationalists, known from zone one and three. This cleavage is, however, eclipsed by the pro-vs. anti-Soviet/Russian cleavage, which is particularly visible in the case of Belarus. One could note here that zone one’s Euro-enthusiastic vs. Euro-skeptic cleavage is also strongly influenced by the heritage of the Soviet domination. However, this influence can be seen as not so much structural, as in the case of zone two, where the current pressures of Russia can be seen as crucial for the political, economic or cultural spheres. In zone one, its impact may be seen in the reproduction of what could be called discourse of post-communism as the dominant ideology of Eastness. In other words, what could be otherwise interpreted as an underdevelopment stemming largely from a dependence from the Western core, is almost universally interpreted as a backwardness resulting from the historical colonization and exploitation of the region by the Soviet Union. In effect, the Western core remains as a positive point of reference and a lighthouse of economic, political and partly cultural development, while the negative effects of European integration are assigned to vestiges of the communist past. While the Euro-skeptic camp of zone one sees many of the downsides of the inclusion into the European Union, it does not blame them so much on the Western side, as on the Euro-enthusiastic camp. The latter is supposedly mismanaging the process of integration and is even accused of treason due to causing a re-integration of the region into the global economic system on conditions perceived as unfavorable to the Euro-skeptics. This alleged disloyalty or lack of patriotism on the part of liberals is interpreted by Euro-skeptic conservatives as resulting from the liberals’ post-communist beliefs and/or even links to present day Russian influences. The liberals in turn blame most of the problems of their countries on Euro-skeptic conservatives, allegedly hindering the modernization of their countries by their parochial identity and fear of Western culture. These attitudes are allegedly produced by the post-communist heritage, which in effect is seen as the fundamental source of most problems of countries in zone one. This may be seen as a paradoxical outcome. Zone one, where Western domination is most obvious and acute, simultaneously appears as a region, where it cannot be easily criticized or even analyzed within the framework of the two dominant political discourses of the liberal and conservative camp. Such language of direct criticism of Western domination is practically offered only by the conservative, neo-Soviet camp of zone three, which is also partly present in zone two (particularly in Belarus, and to a lesser extent, in Ukraine). This broad stream of anti-Western discourses ranging from purely neo-Soviet, to neo-imperial and nationalistic is, of course, hardly acceptable in zone one countries, as well as in Western Europe itself. The most legitimate way of criticizing Western domination over Central and Eastern Europe, and over any other region in the Western world itself, is the discourse of critical theory strongly linked to the left side of the Western political spectrum. This type of critical discourse has been, however, largely delegitimized in most of Central and Eastern Europe. It is, in particular, hardly acceptable in
A center-periphery perspective
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countries of zones one and two, where only politically marginal leftist circles use it in their closed circuits. In effect, the mainstream political forces, using the discourse of post-communism as their key ideological framework, are not able to relate to most of the critical discourses of the West. Paradoxically, they appear more attractive to Russian neo-Soviet, communist or even conservative circles, which perceive Western capitalism as their main opponent. Let me try to present a synthesized model of the dominant ways in which geopolitical dependences are perceived according to the logic of the dominant political cleavages of the three zones. Its basic structure is presented in the three figures below. In zone one (Figure 2.1), the liberal camp is perceiving and, at the same time, critically assessing the forces of its national opponent, that is, the conservative camp. The latter is presented as a dangerous nationalist camp trying POLAND'S CONSERVATIVES' VIEW The West
Zone One
Zone Two
Zone Three
POLAND'S LIBERALS' VIEW
Figure 2.1 Visions of relations of domination of the two principal political camps of Poland (arrows symbolize external domination and their size is proportional to its perceived power, flashes symbolize local nationalisms and their size is also proportional to their perceived strength)
22
A center-periphery perspective UKRAINANS CONSERVATIVES' VIEW
UKRAINIAN LIBERALS' VIEW
Figure 2.2 Visions of relations of domination of the two principal political camps of Ukraine
to impose an authoritarian nation state discipline on its own society, as well as on selected provinces of zone two countries, which the conservative camp aspires to treat as colonies. Liberals may also see some negative aspects of the impact of the Russian state and its agencies on zone two countries, and in rare cases, on states in zone one. For conservatives in zone one, it is Russia and the heritage of Soviet domination that are seen as the strongest and most negative forces of domination, present in the region. Russian and former Soviet influences are seen both in zone two countries, perceived as almost colonized by Russia, as well as in zone one itself, where Russians and former Soviet mentalities are acting mostly through an influence on liberals and other actors. One could add that both liberals and conservatives in zone one usually look in a critical way on the internal politics in zone three, that is, mostly on Kremlin’s repressions of the liberal camp and its clear support of neo-communist and nationalist forces. Conservatives in zone
A center-periphery perspective
23
RUSSIA'S NEO-SOVIET-CONSERVATlVE'S VIEW
RUSSIA'S LIBERALS VIEW
Figure 2.3 Visions of relations of domination of the two principal political camps of Russia
one may also perceive some form of domination of the Western core over the region. Such perception is currently very obvious among the Hungarian conservatives let by Viktor Orbán, but less clear in the case of the Polish conservatives. In neither case, however, does it involve a comprehensive critique of the systemic dependence of the region within world system hierarchies. The economic dependence on the West is usually blamed on the earlier rule of liberals. In zone two (Figure 2.2), both liberals and conservative nationalists see Russia and the Soviet heritage as the main force dominating their countries. Liberals additionally see a threat in the local nationalist camp, while the nationalist/ conservative camp sees an additional threat in the ambitions of some of the states in zone one to regain their historical influences over the region. Finally, in zone three (Figure 2.3), a widely defined conservative block concentrated around the Russian state is the key force in producing discourse critical of the West in the region. That block can be seen as a complex camp composed of a multitude of currents. While the literature on Russian nationalist and antiWestern ideologies and political forces is relatively rich, I won’t discuss the
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A center-periphery perspective
complexity of this camp given that this book will be focused primarily on zone one. Let me remind the reader that the West-critical pro-Kremlin block is also very strong in Belarus and clearly present in Ukraine. In the perspective of its Russia-centered point of view, the main negative forces in the region are those coming from the West, which is trying to interfere and subdue the entire region under its economic, political and cultural command. Western influences are viewed critically, in particular, as far as countries of zones two and three are concerned. The local conservative and anti-communist forces in zones one and two are seen in equally critical light. Additionally, the local liberal forces in zone three are seen very negatively and are often identified as tools of Western domination. On the other hand, the liberal forces in zone three itself see main negative forces of domination in the conservative-neo-Soviet complex in Russia, and critically assess conservative forces in zones one and two. One can note that these local structures of fields of power considerably transform the forces of Western economic, political and cultural domination, but also translate critical discourses of the West into diverse, and in most cases unique ideologies, which would be discussed in this book as ideologies of Eastness. These ideologies can be seen as developing in reaction to Western domination over Central and Eastern Europe. However, as it will be argued here, they should not be seen simply as a mechanical reaction to domination, or as a function of its nature and strength. The key factor of the structure of the fields of power makes the ways in which dependence, marginality and under-development of particular zones in the region is explained and blamed, quite diverse. We can thus conclude that all the three zones, given their peripheral status in relation to the European Union, have developed center-periphery cleavages oriented towards the West as key dividing lines of their political scenes. They pit pro-Western liberals to conservative opponents, usually less enthusiastic about integration with the European Union and about adaptation to its cultural and political mainstream standards. Conservatives could be thus seen as representatives of different forms of resistance to Western hegemony. The forms of that resistance are, however, usually muted and do not involve rejection of the very idea of European integration, rather of its particular forms. In the case of the first zone, the internal periphery, resistance predominately has a form of calling for more assertive attitude towards Western actors, including EU, states or corporations. In the case of the second zone, allying Russia is considered as a most rational solution for defending country’s interests. In the third zone, that is, in Russia, the liberal pro-European opposition is a weak opposition, while the Western-skeptic camp is dominant within the government supporting block and relies on a wider spectrum of resistance discourses, from technocratic to nationalistic, and on openly anti-Western ideologies which emphasize Russia’s distinct, non-European identity. Interestingly, in the first zone (the internal periphery of the EU) open critiques of the EU are less common than critiques of the political opponents on national political scenes. In particular, the Euro-skeptic camp is in fact more often blaming liberal opponents for the mismanagement of the country, rather than
A center-periphery perspective
25
seeing EU as an oppressive hegemon. EU is instead often seen as a neutral or positive actor, an incarnation of rationality and normalcy. Conservatives tend to blame the unequal partnership with core EU states on liberals’ inability to negotiate optimal conditions for accession. Liberals, depicted by conservatives as “traitors”, are often criticized with reference to communist notions and past. Liberals appear to have a “communist mentality” or to be infiltrated by former communist agents. In this way the EU remains innocent, while most of the guilt is assigned to the Soviet Union and the heritage of its domination, be it “real” or imagined.
The structure of a peripheral field of power In my analysis of characteristic traits of particular zones, I will use the notion of a “field of power”, proposed by Pierre Bourdieu, to study structures of broadly defined upper strata of modern societies (Wacquant, 1993). The field of power is a notion encompassing fields of politics, economy and culture, as well as several others. The topography of the field of power defines mutual relations between these fields and usually shapes their internal structures, which appear to be more or less homologous. In other words, they are organized according to similar axes of conflict, which allow the formation of specific coalitions between actors in particular fields. A typical pattern of such coalitions is an alliance between dominated players in selected fields. Bourdieu identified a persistent conflict between those oriented towards economic capital, which he saw as privileged in most Western countries, and those oriented towards cultural capital. A political correlate of that split is the right vs. left cleavage. In a classic Western context, it is characterized by links of economic capital oriented elites to the conservative pole of the political field, and by typical leaning of cultural capital oriented elites towards the left-liberal pole of the political, and in effect, other fields. This classical configuration of the Western field of power seems to be consistently altered by forces of external domination in peripheral settings. This tendency seems to be apparent on several scales, from supra-national to local level. In effect, what can be called according to Stein Rokkan the center-periphery cleavage, could be seen as produced by both core areas of the world system, as well as by particular nation-states. Let me remind the reader that Rokkan analyzed the historical development of political scenes of several Western European countries. Rokkan, in particular, showed how center-periphery dependencies in emerging nation states were producing specific political cleavages. He divided them into territorial and non-territorial. Among classic territorial cleavages, he singled out cleavages based on attitudes towards centralization efforts in nation-states and in states with ambitions of homogenizing their territories, as well as cleavages originating from a confrontation between nation-states and the Catholic Church. Such efforts produced divisions based on the attitudes towards them by pitting actors supporting centralization and those opting for autonomy or independence of the peripheries. The Catholic Church often appeared as an ally of the peripheral autonomist
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A center-periphery perspective
or national movement. Building on Rokkan’s model, I argued earlier (Zarycki, 2000) that peripheral states could have resisted homogenization efforts by centers but their political scenes got divided into opponents of the policies of the dominant, external “center”, calling for protection of native cultures, markets and values, and their proponents, who can be also called pragmatists or collaborators. Those, adapting to external or global forces, are often called by their local opponents cosmopolitans or even traitors. The classic case of such a cleavage is that of Ireland, where, already in the nineteenth century, two parties, divided by their attitude towards Britain, dominated the political scene: Fine Gael and Fianna Fail (McAllister and O’Connell, 1984). Russia developed a cleavage known as the opposition between Slavophiles and Westerners (Walicki, 1979). This political cleavage originally emerged in the cultural field as its key intellectual controversy but it soon shaped the basic structure of Russia’s political scene. Andrzej Wierzbicki analyzed nineteenth century discourses of identity in Poland and identified a similar cleavage (Wierzbicki, 1984: 333). It was a constant tension between “originalists” arguing for Poland’s uniqueness, and “occidentalist” presenting it as a typical Western nation. For the latter, the idea of Poland’s originality constituted a dangerous anti-Western, nationalist idea. Wierzbicki’s notes strongly emphasized the opposition between the West and the East, and the role of Poland as a bulwark of the West in “originalists” visions. Currently, we can point to several other countries where typical peripheral center vs. periphery cleavages have emerged. They may be seen also as being formed in reaction to globalization forces. Cases from Russia to the Middle East can be quoted in which, not only political scenes are organized around cleavages based on attitudes towards the West, but also the same structures are reflected in the intellectual fields (e.g. Hanafi, 2011; Zhuravlev et al., 2009). Also post-communist Poland may be seen as an example of such duality, with a cleavage defined by an attitude towards Soviet domination, later taken over by a cleavage defined by an attitude towards Western hegemony (Zarycki, 2011). The original emphasis in Rokkan’s writings was on homogenizing efforts by modern nation states, but his approach could be expanded to other cases of pressures, including those of imperial states and, currently, those aligned with globalization or European integration. An important characteristic of Central Europe and Eastern Europe as a peripheral region is that the political scenes of its countries are usually critically shaped by the geopolitical context. In this way, the geopolitical context is also strongly influencing the context of social sciences development in the region, including sociology. Thus, in 1945, the entire region of zone one appeared to be dominated by the Soviet Union and had a communist government imposed on it. When we look specifically at Central Europe (that is, zone one in my classification), political scenes of the region become basically divided into camps reacting in opposite ways to this geopolitical domination. On the one hand, there were communists and their supporters accepting the subjugation of their countries to Moscow. On the other hand, there were anti-Soviet and
A center-periphery perspective
27
anti-communist “nationalists” or conservatives, opposing the new system and the dependence of their countries on Moscow, on different grounds. Major part of the latter had to move underground in the late 1940s as they have been brutally persecuted, in particular during the Stalinist period. At the same time, a large part of the liberal intelligentsia appeared to be siding with the left; considerable part of it supported the communists. The originally spontaneous support of communism by the liberal intellectual elites has been gradually decreasing. Depending on the country, the dynamics of this process have been different. In Hungary, the bloody Soviet intervention of 1956 appeared to be a turning point and an impulse that considerably decreased the status of the communist government, especially among the intelligentsia. In Poland, the late 1950s brought a thaw involving relative democratization of the system, and including a rise in reliance on patriotic/nationalistic rhetoric in the communist party discourse. However, in 1968 a radical breakthrough took place in Poland, as well as in Czechoslovakia. In Poland, a major split in the communist party led to an open confrontation between two sectors of the field of power. It was a conflict between the “newly educated” faction dominated by sons of workers and peasants, and the old leftist intelligentsia faction supported by younger liberals, or so-called revisionists. The confrontation ended with a victory of the hard-liners faction, one, which made intensive use of nationalistic and openly anti-Semitic rhetoric. This appears to be a critical turning point in the development of the intellectual field in Poland and in several other countries of the region. At the same time, the Soviet-led 1968 military intervention in Czechoslovakia also became an impulse for a very clear downfall of prestige of the Soviet Union and communism. A process of gradual melting of the latter’s symbolic capital gained impetus in 1968, and could not be reverted afterwards. In effect, during the entire period of the 1970s and the 1980s we observe a growing discontent with communism, in particular among the liberal intelligentsia. In Poland, this translates into an increasing involvement of liberals in the underground anti-communist opposition, and into forging an alliance with the anti-communist conservatives and the Catholic Church. The institutional incarnation of that alliance could be found in the emergence of the Solidarity (Solidarnos´c´) trade union, which reached a spectacular success in August, 1980, but was subsequently crashed by the introduction of a martial law in December, 1981. Over the span of this period, a growing majority of liberal intellectuals turned towards the West, and gradually withdrew their symbolic recognition of the Soviet Union, the communist party and its ideology. This withdrawal resulted in a widespread rejection of Marxism in the intellectual field. The domination of the Soviet Union over the region became gradually restricted to the military and political dimension. In other words, we could say that the cultural and intellectual prestige of the Soviet Union in the region has been progressively eclipsed by the West during the 1970s. At the turn of the 1970s and 1980s, Western domination over the region in the economic sphere also became apparent. In effect, the communist ideology began to appear increasingly cumbersome. Communists not only recognized the superiority of
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Western “market capitalism”, but gradually renounced their ideology, including as a basis for development of social sciences. At the same time, we observe a general delegitimization of not only the Soviet Union and communism, but also of everything related to the “left” and broadly defined “east”. All these notions were gradually interrelated and formed a coherent negative image of the “negative other” for the entire Central Europe. We could thus talk about gradual orientalization of communism both outside as well as inside the communist block itself, in particular, within its Central European part (zone one). As Atlilla Melegh argues, this intellectual aspect of a wider geopolitical trend of the Soviet decline, resulted in a spectacular emergence of discourses on “Central Europe” defined in opposition to “Eastern Europe”. These discourses developed in that period under the influence of several leading liberal intellectuals of the region like Milan Kundera (Melegh, 2006). The rising emphasis on the “Centrality” of the region, which could be observed in the entire zone one and in parts of zone two, could be interpreted as an act of building a clear symbolic border between the region and the Soviet Union or even Russia, now considered as being an alien other and belonging to the wild, barbarian, non-European orient of communism. The turn of the 1980s and 1990s was thus full of slogans like “escape from the east”, “return to (Western) Europe” (e.g. Jacyno, 1994) that dominated the national and regional identity discourses of most countries in the entire region of Central and Eastern Europe. One of its effects was that within academic circles in zone one, works emphasizing the allegedly insurmountable barrier between the European “Central Europe” and “Asiatic” Eastern Europe gained a widespread respect. As Merje Kuus noticed, for example, Samuel Huntington’s thesis regarding the “Clash of Civilizations”, while being criticized in the West, is highly respected and widely quoted in the region (Kuus, 2004a). Atilla Melegh attributed a particular performative force to the orientalism towards the Soviet Union, which emerged in the turn of 1970 and 1980. As he argued, “civilizational discourse”, which redefined the Soviet Union as an anti-modern force, could be seen as a “vital 5th column of the world system in defeating socialist modernization as a challenge” (Melegh, 2006: 192). He identified its effect on a wide specter of dimensions ranging from everyday life choices, through the process of change of the elites, up to the geopolitical dimension with such developments as successful independence movements in the Baltic States, split-ups of Czechoslovakia and Yugoslavia, and a rise of regionalism in several other countries. In Poland, the Upper Silesian autonomists seem to draw on that “civilizational discourse”. Leaders of the Movement for Silesia’s Autonomy (RAS´l) tend to present Warsaw and eastern regions of Poland as not “European enough”. Consequently, they define the Polish rule over Upper Silesia as colonization (Szmeja, 2000). While recognizing the importance of what Melegh called “civilizational discourse”, one could note that its power could be hardly seen uniquely in the discoursive domain. There seems to be an effect of a broader framework of synergy between several discoursive and non-discoursive mechanisms constituting the process of transfer of Central
A center-periphery perspective
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Europe from the Soviet to the Western zone of domination, known otherwise as a post-communist transformation or transition. We could remind the reader that the collapse of communism in Central Europe involved transfer of power to broad coalitions of West-oriented intellectuals and technocrats, built under slogans of anti-politics, creation of a civil society and Europeization. The former communists of zone one usually abandoned former ideological tenets and moved to pro-Western positions. They emphasized their professionalism by contrasting it to the lack of experience on the part of the former opposition members now entering the corridors of power. Former communists, at the same time, were calling for a less radical economic reform and promising more “sensitivity” in social issues. “Sensitivity” was not necessarily a key element of their parties’ identities and proved not to be a systematically kept promise at the times when they came to power. Most governments of zone one were implementing with almost equal enthusiasm a program of radical market reforms. What appeared to be key issues in dividing the political scene, in particular in Poland, were not so much economic and political issues but the attitudes towards the past, in particular, the interpretation of the communist period. In this way, the so-called post-communist cleavage has emerged. The “anti-communists” on its right side were condemning all things related to communism, and the most radical among them were calling for purges from public institutions of former members and secret collaborators of the communist services, as well as of high party members. On the “post-communist” left side practically no one was ready to defend the old system, praise the communist ideology or the superiority of command economy over the capitalist market economy. The post-communist left was, however, defending a view that given the geopolitical context of the post-war years, the choice of communist party leaders and members to join it and adapt to conditions created by Moscow’s dominance, was the only realistic one, and, in effect, it served their country well in the given period. The anti-communist side of the post-communist cleavage enthusiastically embraced the introduction of radical market reforms, and defined its opponents as former communists. The latter were presented as formed under the influence of communism, understood as an ideology of the backward east and of the past. A wave of scholarly writing that emerged after the fall of communism came with much criticism of the so-called Homo-Sovieticus, or the communist man (Buchowski, 2006). This was the term given to those who rejected the state’s new-found love of the West and, it was thought, hampered the integration of Poland with the rest of Europe. At the same time, work done in the social sciences by those more sympathetic to the post-communist left increasingly posited that Poland’s staunchly conservative and petty peasants were rejecting the West because of their traditionalism and backward conservatism. These views had certain interesting manifestations at the regional level. Many academics saw Homo-Sovieticus as an obstacle standing in Poland’s way; as the main phenomenon keeping the country from “joining Europe.” (e.g. Sztompka, 2000). These scholars saw the regions of North-Western Poland, where there
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was a higher concentration of industrial workers and of workers from former state farms, as being the most backward and problematic. This view, however, was not the only critical perspective concerning the social geography of Poland. For other scholars, especially those subscribing to left-liberal views, the conservative North-Eastern and South-Eastern regions of Poland were, instead, thought to be the extreme poles of backwards and dangerous nationalism (Zarycki, 2007; Buzalka, 2008). The above discussed “post-communist cleavage”, as it has been labeled by Mirosława Grabowska (Grabowska, 2003), could be interpreted as a structural effect of the Soviet domination which by rule of inertia lasted for over a decade. It has transformed itself into a liberal vs. conservative cleavage, which can be seen as a reaction to global forces’ increasing grip over the region primarily due to the enlargement of the European Union, which clearly defined a dominated position for zone one within wider Europe. What is important is how the post-communist cleavage characteristic for the zone one countries, in particular Poland and Hungary, was actually transformed into a liberal vs. conservative cleavage. The post-communist side surrendered, gave up its ideological ambitions already at the end of the communist period. Later, it also gave up its political ambitions for autonomy. One could speculate that this could be related to the defeat of its economic project (which was more or less successful in the countries like Russia or Belarus). Namely, the former nomenclatura was not able to acquire the controlling stake in the economies of its countries. It lost the battles over the control of key economic sectors (including the industry and the banking system) to the global capital. Jadwiga Staniszkis suggests that one of the reasons for this outcome was the conflict of the former nomenclatura with the anti-communist intelligentsia elite (Staniszkis, 2001). The cultural capitalists of the former anti-communist opposition confronted the former political capitalists of the communist party who were trying to convert their earlier political capital into economic capital. What the former anticommunist elite did, in Staniszkis’ interpretation, amounted to assisting in handing over key national economic assets to the global capital under the slogans of “de-communization”, and preventing in this way mechanisms, which Staniszkis noted in the early 1990s and labeled “political capitalism” (Staniszkis, 1991). As it appears, political capitalism, or the massive takeover of economic resources by the former communist nomenclatura, while having a very restricted scale in zone one countries, has taken place largely successfully in zone two, first of all in Belarus and Ukraine, and its classic form can be observed in zone three, that is, in Russia. These divergent patterns of transformation could be related to dominant ideologies of eastness in each respective zone. In zone one, where the economic power has been largely concentrated in the hands of Western-oriented intelligentsia members, both of former communist and former opposition origin, post-communism appears as the hegemonic ideology of eastness. It may be summarized as a view on this part of Europe as a region “in transition” from oriental, anti-modern communism to Western modernity of capitalism. That transition is imagined as an ongoing
A center-periphery perspective
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process of caching-up with the West. In this process the constant struggle with remnants of communism, both political and cultural, is imagined as the central mechanism of progress. The Euro-skeptic camp of zone one, while critical of Western liberal and secular values, as well as of the spread of global popculture, basically shares most of the tenets of the post-communist ideology of eastness by seeing the liberal pro-European camp as permeated by former communists who hinder the process of return of their countries from the backward post-communist East to the modern West. The hegemony of anti-communism as the dominant ideology in zone one results in naturalization of the region’s dependence from the European core. It makes the memory of Central Europeans’ “heroic” resistance to the communist rule and, later, to its heritage, a convenient way of imagining the entire post-war period from both the local and Western point of view. The never ending battle with the vestiges of the communist past in the region becomes a legitimization of a radical political and economic integration with global Western structures, even at the price of considerable decrease of sovereignty in many areas. One could note that, while the countries of Central Europe become highly dependent on the Western core in many aspects, in particular in the economic dimension, the key role of intermediaries has been largely retained in the hands of “cultural capitalist” or the liberal intelligentsia elite, which may be seen as one of the key winners of the so called transition. The anti-communist ideology, legitimating the transfer of power in the region, is also largely naturalizing the dominant role of the liberal intelligentsia, which is able to portray itself also as being the avant-garde of the anti-communist movement in the past, and as being an active fighter against the remnants of communism today. These are efficient legitimization mechanisms inscribing the dominant ideology of the region (zone one) in a wider system of Western values including democracy, human right or freedom of enterprise, conscientiousness and free movement of people. Thus it appears that such key issues as the region’s dependence from the Western core and the special role of the intelligentsia elite in its fields of power, are difficult to be identified and critically discussed within the dominant discourses produced in a context of the field of powers in the region, both by Euro-skeptic sectors and in particular by the Euroenthusiastic pole. These key structures could be respectively called “the dependence doxa” (naturalized dependence from the Western core) and the “the intelligentsia doxa” (naturalized domination of the intelligentsia). As it appears, they are easier to identify using the tools and point of view of Western critical theory, despite the fact that, as has been mentioned above, this theory is highly incompatible with the dominant intellectual frames of the region’s intellectual discourses.
3
The dependence doxa Western hegemony and its naturalization in Central and Eastern Europe
Here, let me discuss in more detail the problem of what I call the dependence doxa. I will attempt to point to the key aspects of the doxa relying mostly on Western authors or publications by authors from the region, which appeared in the West, as these authors appear to usually have a much more critical view on problems arising from the region’s dependence than those writing about this type of problems within the dominant ideological framework of anticommunist ideology. This difficulty of discussing the problems of the region’s dependence on the Western core seems to be strongly based on a mechanism by which criticism of unequal economic, political and cultural relations between Central and Western Europe implies accusations of being anti-Western and, consequentially, nationalist/fundamentalist and, foremostly, “communist”. Identification of the criticism of Western hegemony with “communism” may be seen as another manifestation of the strength of the symbolic division between progress and backwardness, related since the turn of the 1970s and 1980s to the East–West opposition, on its turn linked to the capitalism-communism opposition. The dependence doxa can be thus defined as a naturalization of the region’s structural dependence on the West. One could compare it to the earlier dependence of the region on the Soviet Union. During that period, discussing the dependence was a taboo enforced not only by symbolic but also by coercive means. The Soviet Union was officially defined as an “older brother”, but first of all, it was presented as an ally and a partner of all Central European states. Interestingly, in the same period we could note a surge of studies on historical structural inequalities conducted in several countries of the region, but, in a particularly open and creative way, in Poland. Critical approaches to the history of the region’s capitalist economy were accepted politically and even encouraged, as they could be used in promoting an image of the countries of Central and Eastern Europe as being previously exploited by the “bad” Western capitalists. These historical images of dependency during the pre-communist period were used to legitimize the membership of these countries in the Soviet bloc. These critical works could be linked to the image of communism as a tool of emancipation of Central European countries from capitalist oppression and exploitation. This trend had different manifestations ranging from crude slogans of the Stalinist propaganda denouncing all
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capitalists, with Western capital presented as the most evil of all, to more nuanced studies conducted in the academic field. These studies included research on the history of capitalism in the region, which was also conducted under the rubric of “political economy”, at that time constituting a compulsory course for all university students. One of the aspects of this trend was the emergence of the Polish school of historical economics which was thriving in the 1960s and 1970s (Sosnowska, 2005). Its members like Witold Kula, Marian Małowist, Jerzy Topolski or Andrzej Wyczan´ski had remarkable successes and gained considerable international recognition, with Małowist being considered by Immanuel Wallerstein as one of the key authors who inspired his World-System Theory. In the late communist period, that intellectual tradition has waned and it was largely replaced by ahistorical modernization theory-type approaches. Since the 1970s, the interest in the economic history of the region has been diminishing, while the attention to the cultural history, which allowed an emphasis on the region’s “Westness”, has been growing. Ironically, in the post-communist period, greater intellectual interest to mechanisms of the region’s external dependence is now focused on the communist period and the region’s dependence on the Soviet Union at that time. After all, it was the “Soviet colonization” and the imposition of the communist “irrational economic system” on the region, which is now considered to be the main source of the region’s “backwardness”. While the ability of a critical analysis of the dependence on the Western core has been largely lost in the academia in zone one, in the West itself, an interest in critical views on the so-called transformation has been slowly developing. In particular, in the mid-1990s, systematic studies dealing with ways of imagining Central and Eastern Europe started to appear. Larry Wolf ’s groundbreaking study Inventing Eastern Europe. The map of civilization on the mind of the enlightenment (Wolff, 1994) was probably the first comprehensive study of the roots of Western images depicting Eastern Europe, and still remains a fundamental classic in this respect. It was followed by books by Adam Burgess (Burgess, 1997) and Maria Todorova (Todorova, 1997) on the Balkans. Ewa Thompson with her Imperial knowledge. Russian literature and colonialism (Thompson, 2000a), on the other hand, was the first to offer a systematic study on the historical development of images of Central and Eastern Europe in Russian literature. She has also been among the pioneers of the application of post-colonial theory to the region. Her work has been continued and challenged by several others authors who proposed numerous, often quite different and mutually incompatible, ways of relating the production of knowledge on Central and Eastern Europe to post-colonial theory. Studies pointing out the possible application of Edward Said’s notion of “orientalism” to images of Central and Eastern Europe started to emerge. Among the most systematic of them was the book by Attila Melegh (Melegh, 2006) entitled On the East-West slope: Globalization, narration, racism and discourses on Central and Eastern Europe. Melegh reconstructed the general mechanism of orientalization working in respect to and inside Central and Eastern Europe, and showing their connection to the global political transformations
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occurring in the second part of the twentieth century. Another important book dealing with the problems of orientalization of Central and Eastern Europe, is Geopolitics Reframed: Security and Identity in Europe’s Eastern Enlargement by Merje Kuus (Kuus, 2007a). Kuus focused on Western discourses about international security and provided important insights into the role of interaction between Western and Central European elites in the process of production of images of the region. However, a considerable part of her case studies came from Estonia, and she was not so much interested in the application of postcolonial theory. Post-colonial tropes were, on the other hand, much more important to Alexander Etkind (Etkind, 2003) who developed the idea of an internal colonization in Russia. Etkind’s idea was inspired by Hechter’s (Hechter, 1975) notion of internal colonialism. In this way, post-colonial theory and the study of orientalist imagery in Central and Eastern Europe have been moved to the regional level, simultaneously extending the use of the center-periphery model from an international to an interregional dimension. Of particular importance in this context are the publications of József Böröcz who not only deconstructed a number of the mechanisms of the region’s symbolic dependence, but also tried to link them to the tangible structures of economic interests and diverse institutional networks. His analysis of the case of Hungary illustrates very well the key mechanism of the current economic dependency of most of the economies in Central Europe, which in contrast to post-Soviet Eastern Europe, with the exception of the Baltic States, has been strongly integrated with the Western core (Böröcz, 2012). These mechanisms, as Böröcz argues, which include Western ownership of the major part of key industries and put local businesses in an economically, legally and technologically subordinate position vis-à-vis foreign multinational capital, condemn Hungary, and probably most countries of the region to the fate of “catching up forever”. One of his key insights is the analysis of the European Union’s hegemony in its new internal periphery. As József Böröcz and Mahua Sarkar argued, the specific construction of the EU allows the opportunity to hide crucial mechanisms of its power. In particular, as Böröcz put it: EU can maintain an elegant and convenient distance from matters of coercion without endangering its own defence. In the process of ‘eastern enlargement’, much of the transformative ‘dirty’ work in the economies on the EU’s eastern and southeastern flanks is done by the state apparatuses and the political elites of those societies themselves. (Böröcz and Sarkar, 2005: 166) As Böröcz and Sarkar argue, a considerable share of the mechanisms making Central Europe so dependent on the Western core has an economic character. According to them: EU-based multinational companies do much of the coercive work in the economic, environmental, social and legal realms worldwide, without the
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EU itself ever having to utilize conventional tools of state based coercion. Surviving colonial ties, re-emerging relationships with the historically dependent parts of the German and Austrian-dominated, land-based European empires, and constantly renewed neocolonial linkages to virtually the entire ‘former second’ and ‘third worlds’ provide the EU with terms of exchange, raw materials, energy, labor, capital and services that continue to subsidize the EU’s accumulation process without the EU ever having to get involved in the messy business of the social and environmental violence associated with the extraction of surplus. To a large extent precisely because of its distance from institutional locales where direct coercion happens, the EU is widely portrayed as the epitome of goodness in world politics today, reinforcing a centuries-old, Eurocentric ideology of superiority. In promoting the ideology of ‘European goodness’, the political process of European identity construction tries to hide the corpse of colonialism while it continues, of course, to partake of the material inheritance of the same colonialism. (Böröcz and Sarkar, 2005: 166–67) In effect, as Böröcz and Sarkar argue: Practically without lifting a finger, it has managed to secure the compliance of almost all the post-socialist states on its perimeter, transforming the region into the age old West European geopolitical dream of a buffer zone and a repository of secure natural and social resources. With over half of the world’s remaining colonies in its possession, and bound by a history of oppression, racism and systematic political violence, it is widely depicted as the force of ultimate political goodness. (Böröcz and Sarkar, 2005: 168) Jan Drahokoupil points out, in reference to the same dependencies, to a more general mechanism of “universalization” of foreign capital interests in Central European countries. As he argues, foreign companies in many respects enjoy better conditions for economic operation than local capital, since the attraction of the large Western capital is inscribed in the political priorities of the region’s countries (Drahokoupil, 2009). Jane Hardy examined Poland’s position within the international division of labor and found that its integration into the international economy is highly uneven. While some sectors of economy managed to gain considerable advantages from the opening of Western markets, the logic of trade has shifted Poland position towards being an exporter of low technology and basic materials (Hardy, 2007). The low status of postcommunist Central European countries on the post-1989 economic map of the continent was also identified by several other authors who specifically pointed to the takeover of local markets by Western corporations (Ziółkowski, 1998). Andreas Nölke and Arjan Vliegenthart developed a notion of a dependent market economy to describe the economic order of post-socialist Central
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European countries characterized by the importance of foreign capital for their socioeconomic setup. Moreover, they argued that their: uneven development has led to increasing political and social tensions in East Central Europe, accompanied by the rise of populism. While massive Foreign Direct Investment has undoubtedly contributed to the modernization of East Central European industries, its broader societal implications may be more ambivalent. (Nölke and Vliegenthart, 2009: 697) The economic and, at the same time, symbolic superiority of Western institutions and companies, their capital and products may be also perceived through their multiple effects on the lower levels of the social structure. Micro-mechanisms of Western domination, related to the expansion of the foreign capital, have been, for example, studied by Elisabeth Dunn, who focused in particular on how Western companies were creating new social hierarchies, specifically by applying arbitrary personnel policies. Western directors decided which positions are privileged, which are not, and who was considered as deserving to get them (Dunn, 2004). Several other examples of such micro-mechanism of Western domination over Central Europe could be quoted. One of them is the process of growing marginalization of Central European advertising companies, most of which are subsidiaries of global brands. As it has been reported by the professional press, the role of local advertising companies is increasingly restricted only to adaptations of campaigns created in global centers (MałkowskaSzozda, 2012). Marysia Galbraith illustrates the impact of such hierarchies of micro and middle-range mechanisms of social life by providing an example of Poles’ experiences of international mobility. As she reports, numerous Polish migrants to Western Europe are motivated not only by economic interests, but also by their desire to advance culturally, socially and symbolically within a global “imaginary” of hierarchically ranked nations (Galbraith, 2011). One of the basic mechanisms of such intertwining of economic and cultural hierarchies, is the notion of “normalcy”, which as Marysia Galbraith also succinctly shows, for most Central Europeans, is defined by stereotypical images of Western societies (Galbraith, 2003). Several authors have already analyzed the mechanisms of Western domination over Central Europe in terms of structural violence, in particular of the European Union, whose structures may be seen in terms of Foucault’s disciplinary techniques of governmentality including hierarchical observation, whereby the European Union is depicted as an instrument of panoptical reality with its center being located at the core of the continent (Grzymski, 2007). These mechanisms include normalization judgments and examinations of norms. In these interpretations the European Union is understood as a type of an empire disciplining its subjects through, as Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri put it, “not an external voice, but rather something like an inner compulsion indistinguishable from our will, immanent to and inseparable from our subjectivity itself” (Hardt and Negri, 2000: 329). In a similar vein,
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Jadwiga Staniszkis argued that the EU’s structural violence is based in the fact that core Western Europe and Central Europe function in different historical times. Enforced compatibility with institutions of the core, functioning in “universal time”, made the weak institutions of the periphery highly dependent on the core structures, which defined the rule of “universal” time (Staniszkis, 1999). As Pascale Casanova writes in her analysis of the global field of literature, the notion of universality is: one of the most diabolical inventions of the center, for in denying the antagonistic and hierarchical structure of the world, and proclaiming the equality of all the citizens of the republic of letters, the monopolists of universality command others to submit to their law. Universality is what they – and they alone – declare to be acceptable and accessible to all. (Casanova, 2005: 154) One could argue that such micro-level mechanisms of Western domination are based on naturalized hierarchies that privilege “Western” over “Eastern” subjects and notions, as well as on important mechanisms of the production and reproduction of these hierarchies. At the other end of that machinery of Western domination, that is, at its top, are the grand institutional schemes with the European Union as probably being the most important one of them. Merje Kuus is among the pioneering researchers investigating the mechanism of knowledge creation regarding the “East” inside EU institutions (Kuus, 2011). The machinery of the EU serves as an engine of expertise reproduction which often has orientalist elements, and can be seen as the major user of this type of knowledge. Without these deeply entrenched images, the workings of the European Union in Central Europe would be much more difficult. One could thus call for a holistic analysis of such institutions as the EU, which would show very well the intrinsic relations between mechanisms of discoursive and non-discoursive domination. This call could be linked to József Böröcz and Mahua Sarkar’s call for a broader view on the EU. They were in particular calling for: an alternative analytical approach ought to consider all of the parties involved – the member states, the European-based multinational corporations, the transatlantic ruling class interests, as well as the social, cultural, political and economic dynamics of the pan-European political public at large, in addition to ‘Brussels’ – in a single, intricately interwoven network clique of actors with a set of shared geopolitical concerns and interests. (Böröcz and Sarkar, 2005: 166) At the same time, Stuart Shields argued that “Eastern Europe’s post-communist transition can only be understood as part of a broader interrogation of neoliberal hegemony in the global political economy” (Shields, 2012: 7). He also
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posited that studies of regional economic development need to be informed by a much stronger sense of politics, assessing the specific ways in which regions are produced and reproduced through the actions of particular social groups and institutions. Here, one could also quote Andrew Cumbers, Danny MacKinnon, and Robert McMaster who analyzed the emergence of the “new regionalism”. They studied it from an institutional approach point of view. As they argue, such emergence can best be realized by linking institutional approaches to a re-worked spatial political economy: While this will inevitably run up against considerable conceptual and methodological difficulties given the differing origins and orientations of the two bodies of knowledge, such a theoretical synthesis could combine a sensitivity to difference, context and contingency with a stronger appreciation of the realities of uneven development and contested social relations under advanced global capitalism. (Cumbers et al. 2003) Anthropologist Michał Buchowski pointed to the role of the ideology of civil society, promoted by the Western core, as one of the standards of the new “universal” social and economic logic (Buchowski, 1997). Buchowski noted that the civil society was supposed to be built from scratch in Central and Eastern Europe, as if its people were living in a social desert before. This radical imposition of a new social order allowed to legitimize the spread of Western cultural norms and to present them as universal and superior to the old local norms. Specifically, this process took the form of Western aid and advice in civil society reconstruction. While it is possible to point to its multiple local beneficiaries, Buchowski points to its role in promoting tangible Western political and economic interests. As he argues, the fall of communism allowed opening of Eastern markets to Western companies, and this aspect of the so-called transition should be always considered as an important context for the analysis of political and cultural processes taking place in the region. Merje Kuss, at the same time, notes that discourses on Central and Eastern Europe pertaining to its integration with the European Union, while in their majority depicting the countries of the region in cultural terms, are often related to tangible interests of actors from core countries, such as corporations and state agencies (Kuus 2004a). Also, historical diagnoses of the “origins of backwardness” of specific states and regions suggesting an impossibility of changing their developmental paths of a longue durée nature which define their “fate”, may be seen as functional from the point of view of the center. This could be related to a broader problem of historical interpretations. This is in particular the question of balance in uses of history between those which involve risk of historical determinism and ahistorical explanations. This question of balance can be illustrated well by the example of the “backwardness” problem. When analyzed through a uniquely historical approach, such an analysis may lead to excessive historical determinism. On
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the other hand, ahistorical approaches may lead to modernization-theory type interpretations in which dependence is naturalized in a non-historical way, its roots become invisible and the entire responsibility for given regions’ low levels of development is assigned to themselves. In such interpretations, culture and mentality may become the key “variables” explaining the low economic status of regions. Central and Eastern Europe provide numerous examples of such a mechanism. “Eastern mentality” in many of its negative incarnations is often used to explain low performance of regions, states or cities in this part of Europe. Overcoming the “Eastern mentality” becomes a never-ending task. This is how Andrew Janos discusses the functioning of such discourse: the western democracies entered the politics of the region reluctantly, and with the credible claim of making its nations equal partners in a prosperous and secure commonwealth. While the paradise of full communism remained pie in the sky, the consumer paradise of western capitalism was fully visible in the shop windows of Paris, Vienna, and Berlin. To be sure, this grand project also requires sacrifice: the peoples of the region must trade in their old ways for future prosperity, and, as the principals were to discover in time, the project needed a power structure to enforce the West’s historical mandate. Benign or not, the present relations between East Central Europe and the West are clientele relations and not those of equals. As in the Soviet case, these inequalities and deprivations invite doubt, above all among those who are unable to play by the new rules of the economic game, among those who resent the restructuring of ethnic hierarchies, or among those who fear chaos in the wake of the deconstruction of long-established value systems. (Janos, 2001: 247) As Merje Kuus puts it, the region is in a state of constant uncertainty regarding its own Europeaness (“not yet”, “not fully”) and has to work all the time on its mentality. Proliferation of such discourses may be seen as a manifestation of a wider tendency which may be linked to an evolution of tools of social control in a direction of Foucaultian mechanism with individualization as a key process. Such discoursive proliferation may be related in particular to the renaissance of psychology as a tool of governance (Rose, 1990, 1996). One could note that in an analogy to the situation in which individuals are governed through psychological advice and impulses for self-perfection, regionally defined communities, like cities, regions or countries, are also under similar pressures. They are more and more often encouraged to work on changing their “mentalities” and other traits defined in psychological terms. This trend could be also related to the rise in “governance” oriented regional politics, which could be seen as a form of psychologization of regional policy. Symbolic dependence in many cases may appear as being instrumental for the legitimization of economic dependence, while in other instances it may be rather
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seen as an effect of economic structures. How important the symbiotic relationship between these two aspects of power is, has been well illustrated in the process of realignment of Central Europe’s position in the world system after the fall of communism. A good example of this synergy was provided in an article by Piotr Sztompka, published in 1993, that is, at the crest of early enthusiasm with Poland’s “return to Europe”, where Europe was, of course, understood as Western Europe. Sztompka, writing about the importance of what he called “civilizational competence” in the process of Poland’s modernization, considered Western corporations among its major carriers. Thus, he considered their entrance into the markets of Central Europe as very beneficial from the point of view of Poland’s modernization. Sztompka argued in particular that: well-organised, efficient enterprises make up islands of modernity, the exemplars of civilisational competence from which it may spread by imitation to the whole economy, including the huge state-owned enterprises, destined to stay around for some more time due to practical constraints. In this economic area, the role of multinational corporations or joint ventures establishing the outposts and enclaves of modern business culture is hard to overestimate. They impose ready-made patterns of modern, civilised business organisation, management and labour. Thus, whether indigenously developed or imported, the private enterprise is an efficient channel through which civilisational competence evolves and spreads. (Sztompka, 1993: 94) For Sztompka the arrival of multinational companies was tantamount to the arrival of modernity and modern culture. He labelled previous organizational and cultural patterns as constituting what he called “fake modernity”. At the same time, however, he recognized that communism could be also seen as an attempt at modernization of the countries of Central and Eastern Europe. Moreover, Sztompka saw it in a world-system perspective and noted that the societies of Eastern and Central Europe have never been the core societies. As he argued “the rationale of both communism and post-Communist projects had derived from this historical predicament. They were both the attempts at emancipation, at escaping the periphery; they were efforts to bridge the gap between the most developed and the backward, underdeveloped societies” (Sztompka, 1993: 88). Nevertheless Sztompka concluded that “it is the irony of history that at the end of the twentieth century, in the aftermath of the socialist, modernising experiment, the Eastern and Central European societies are deeper in the periphery than before” (Sztompka, 1993: 88). Clearly, he saw this outcome as an effect of communist policies rather than an effect of the interaction between the West and the Soviet Bloc in which interaction the West emerges as a winner reintegrating its former periphery at conditions possibly even worse, that is, more beneficial from the core’s perspective, than before the advent of communism. Interestingly, in the very same text Sztompka
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also recognized the symbolic hegemony of the West over the region and critically discussed its effects. As he argued: There is an uncritical glorification of the Western way of life, economic and political arrangements, consumer patterns, products, and artistic achievements. The West is treated in an undifferentiated, stereotyped way, as a synonym of freedom, affluence, social security and all imaginable virtues. Any criticism, even invoking internal Western sources, is treated with suspicion as propaganda. Western political leaders are endowed with charisma they rarely enjoy at home, and even third-rate Western consumer products are preferred to local fare. (Sztompka, 1993: 91) Some of the above recounted views of the dependent position of Central Europe (or zone one) within wider Europe may seem radical while some may appear skewed towards economic aspects of the region’s dependent position within the world system. What seems of crucial importance, however, is that they are instrumental in developing a multidimensional perspective with regards to discoursive processes; in particular, those which could be called “ideologies of Eastness”. What I have in mind here is a perspective that takes into account the dependences of the region; first of all, those related to a broadly defined West. These dependences between “eastern” and “western” regions of Europe, which can be seen in different dimensions of spatial organization, can be imagined as a system of mutually reinforcing mechanisms and links. They are produced by, and are producing discourses sustaining these spatial structures of Europe. It would be difficult, however, to consider these discourses as primary or unique sources of spatial inequalities. Most of these diverse discourses can be seen as reflecting non-discoursive dependencies; often reproducing them, naturalizing them, and, last but not least, partially constituting them. In most cases, however, as I will argue, they do not produce them as single factors. In other words, they are not performative in the strong sense of the notion as it has been defined by John Austin (Austin, 1962). One could also say that the performative power of orientalist discourses is dependent on contextual factors such as the location of actors, which use them in complex networks of power relations. At the same time, one could note that some of the discourses pertaining to the center-periphery relations, just like the ones in this book, may have largely critical character. They may be thus seen as counter-discourses, which can be hardly interpreted as serving legitimization or naturalization of the power relations between centers and peripheries. These counter-discourses usually have also restricted performative power and need to be seen in the wider context of structures of dependencies, to which they pertain. One of the key questions we face here is, therefore, the relationship between discourses and other aspects of social reality. Thus, as mentioned above, in this book I will try to avoid what is sometimes called
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discoursive reductionism. I will do it by trying to point to wider contexts of discoursive processes. However, given their complex nature, as well as the restrictions of my competences and the scope of this book, I will not be able to fully uncover the entire complexity of economic and political dimensions of all of the discussed discourses. When looking at the dependence of Central and Eastern Europe on the Western core, I would like to emphasize both their complex character and the relatively autonomous nature of their economic, political, and cultural, dimensions as well as of their national sub-fields of given global fields. Thus, economic, political and cultural domination may be related, but often not in a direct way. A peripheral country or region can be almost fully dependent in the economic dimension but retain a high degree of cultural autonomy. In contrast, a high degree of economic sovereignty may be coupled with a high dependence on global culture and with a weakness of the local field of cultural production. At the same time, when looking at dependencies in a specific dimension, it would be difficult to ignore their wider context. In particular, it would be difficult to look at relations in cultural and, more specifically, discoursive dimension without taking into account the wider context of political and economic dependencies. Such a narrow approach could be seen as an instance of the above mentioned discoursive or even cultural reductionism. Bourdieu in a similar context wrote about “semiological vison of the world” (Bourdieu, 2001: 28), that is, one, which reduces social dynamics to the symbolic sphere and ignores its dependencies on other domains, in particular, economic and political. However, the relations between the cultural field in which discourses are produced, and other fields, specifically those of economics and politics, may be very complex, primarily because of the above mentioned autonomy of specific fields at global, national and regional levels. This, in particular, pertains to cultural fields, which may produce discourses highly independent from the dominant hierarchies of the political and economic field. A good example in this case is the global literary field. Pascale Casanova in her study of its development argues about the relative autonomy of that symbolic domain (Casanova, 2005). At the same time, she points to “the global configuration, or composition” of “world literary space”, that is, to the existence of clear hierarchies inside this otherwise highly autonomous field. Casanova argues that, just as nations’ political, economic, military, diplomatic, and geographical histories are not only different but also unequal, so too are their “literary resources”. We could thus conclude that the mechanisms of production of images of peripheral regions are not a simple function of balance of power relations between “centers” and “peripheries”, even if they may be clearly related. First, the fields of power of peripheral regions have their own structures; each part of them producing their own images of global relations. Second, as the region of Central and Eastern Europe illustrates well, any periphery may be divided into several zones and parts, which remain in different relation to the center and to each other and, in effect, react in different ways to their dependence on the center.
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Cultural reductionism and its structural sources The structural dependence between the Western core and Central and Eastern Europe seems to produce a specific mode of cultural reductionism, which strongly influences the ways in which the dependence in question is later perceived and imagined. Since the mechanisms of dependence largely naturalize the economic and political hegemony of the West over the region, in particular, over zone one that includes Central Europe, what remains visible are predominantly dependencies in the cultural dimension. This turns the discourse of the “cultural roots of backwardness of the region” into a key narrative explaining its weakness in relation to the Western core. The peripheral field of power divided into the pro-Western and Euro-skeptic poles reinterprets that cultural narrative in two parallel and largely opposite ways. The Euro-enthusiastic camp, which tends to be most critical of its own conservatives, sees the persistent reproduction of “cultural backwardness” (supposedly resulting in backwardness in all other spheres) as caused by the stubborn reliance on the rhetoric of national pride, defined by historical specificity as argued by the conservative right. From such a liberal point of view, the blame for the region’s weakness in not only cultural but it should be defined in terms of self-responsibility. On the conservative, Europe-skeptic side, the narrative of the “cultural roots of regions’ backwardness” is largely shared but understood in an opposite way. While proWestern liberals see the key problem in the dissimilarity of the region’s culture with that of the Western core, conservatives would rather talk about local traditional culture (including traditional values) being spoiled, diluted or compromised. The radical anti-Western right may attribute here the key blame on the West for actively destroying local cultures and values. The mainstream conservative narrative, at least in Central European context, is, however, as such not anti-Western or anti-European, so it assigns the key responsibility for the supposed destruction of native cultures to “treason” or, at least, to lack of patriotism on the part of local liberal elites, and to the historical heritage of past occupations and aggressions, in particular, that of the communist period. Both sides thus see the key problems of the region as originating in history, albeit in very different ways. Even if they largely agree on a negative view on the communist period, blaming on it most of the current problems of states and societies of the region, they define the heritage of communism quite differently. In the conservative narrative, communism has destroyed much of the native cultural traditions, values and elites. In this way, it made societies of the region vulnerable to a different kind of evil, including negative Western influences (comprising the impact of globalization, low quality pop culture, secularization, materialism, hedonism etc.). In the liberal narrative, communism is seen as a de-modernizing force destroying elements of Western culture in the region and, at the same time, often intensifying local nationalisms. Thus, the liberal narrative is mostly related to the image of the region as suffering from problems, defined mostly in cultural terms, and often causing
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not only cultural and political complications but creating also threats related to nationalism, ethnic tensions and “irrational” conflicts fueled by traditional historical narratives. This is also a classical image of the region dominant in the West. Writing about Western stereotypes of Central and Eastern Europe, Adam Burges argued in particular that “‘ethnicity’ and ‘history’ are seen to have a virtually independent existence in this part of the world. They determine the actions of the people almost regardless of will, according to much of the academic and popular wisdom.” (Burgess, 1997: 4). Such cultural reductionism may have a strong element of classical orientalism including exoticization where its image as a realm of fascinating, impenetrable, magical and ancient cultures is presented. Old values, preserved in East European peripheries, and naïve but deep religiosity may be seen as fascinating but at the same time dangerous and horrifying because of their irrationalism and fundamentalism. It was Edward Said, who in such context pointed out that the orient is often seen through the prism of ethnicity and religion as key dimensions of its existence (Said, 1978). One of the classic manifestations of this vision of Central and Eastern Europe in the discourse of social sciences, is the widely discussed opposition between civic and ethnic nationalism. Despite its criticism by several respected scholars (e.g. Brubaker, 1998), it is still widely referred to as an established fact not only in Western literature but also in the liberal sector of the field of power in Central Europe itself (e.g. Kubicki, 2011). “Culture” and “history” as independent factors are often seen as sources of tensions, wars and massacres specific to Central and Eastern Europe. This view is widely shared by numerous Western-oriented academics from the region (e.g. Jedlicki, 1999). Ivan Colovic´ even wrote about the “terror of culture” which is, in his view, characteristic for the Balkans (Colovic´, 2011). Said highlights the phenomenon of culturalization of the peripheral problems, and the tendency to perceive “cultural roots” in peripheral backwardness. Peripheral culture in such perspectives is often seen as defunct and in general its role is excessive; inhabitants of peripheries become its prisoners. As Arjun Appadurai put it, natives are “prisoners of their mode of thought” (Appadurai, 1992: 37). The cultural reductionism in the images of Central Europe, given its wide recognition in the region, may be seen as a tool of Western symbolic domination. George Schöpflin pointed to the “uses of history”, which the Western core is able to employ in its disciplining of the eastern peripheries. This is particularly possible because of its ability to naturalize it. As Schöpflin argues: There is a clear presence of historicising rhetoric, of looking for the explanations for one’s collective problems in a meaning that is attributed to the past; and the past is seen as an active agent, undercutting human agency. To some extent, this is a reflection of the preference for thinking in structures over thinking pragmatically – structures once identified appear to make human agency and individual responsibility futile. A kind of determined positivism is the counter-discourse. There are well-established discourses with overt moralising purposiveness and a corresponding
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suspicion of detachment. Western discourses by contrast hide their moralising quality behind scientific and objective language. Central Europeans like to rely on aestheticising non-aesthetic phenomena. They have a certain fear of being forever marginal, of not being actors in history, of not having recognition on equal terms and ultimately of their own disappearance. (Schöpflin, 2003: 12) The Western core’s ability at naturalization of arbitrary cultural forms and historical narratives may be also related to what Michael Billig called “banalization” when writing about “banal nationalism” (Billig, 1995). Universalization may be seen as the ability to move certain cultural traditions, including historical heritage, from the zone of “relative” and “interested” politics to realms of “universal” culture or “rational” economy where their arbitrary or political nature gets naturalized. However, as Chantal Mouffe noted, “the frontier between the social and the political is essentially unstable and requires constant displacements and renegotiations between social agents” (Mouffe, 2005: 18). The relations between center and periphery can be thus theorized in terms of negotiating the frontier between the political and the social. While the core, along with peripheral liberals, tends to view the peripheral cultures in political terms, the conservatives of the peripheries tend to inscribe most of the local cultural heritage and historical narratives into the social. Therefore, from the perspective of cultural reductionism of the peripheral conservatives, any explicit attempts at influencing, criticizing, devaluating or deconstructing peripheral cannons of culture may be seen in a very negative way. This is why studies on “memory politics”, “memory culture”, etc., especially those sponsored or inspired by the actors from core areas, may be perceived as acts of symbolic violence by centers, if looked upon from the peripheries. This is, first of all, because broadly defined culture as a compensatory asset is much more important in most peripheries than in central countries. Importance is defined here not as a role played in society, in fact, in any society culture is crucial, but as a primary source of legitimization. In central societies, legitimization and power are much more strongly defined by economic as well as political assets, which in turn effectively naturalize large parts of culture and make it largely immune to “deconstruction” by the academic or intellectual field. Thus “deconstruction” of peripheral myths may be seen by conservatives as an attack on peripheral “sacred” resources. At the same time, the liberals will see it not only as an intellectual exercise, but, first of all, as an important act of “liberation” or “emancipation” of their nations from dangerous nationalist myths, and as a part of a wider effort aimed at “normalization” of their country; its modernization understood as a movement from Eastern superstition to Western rationality in terms of the classic Foucault’s distinction between “reason” and “folly”. This is also, in a liberal vision, an element of overcoming the region’s negative historical heritage as a source of its adverse cultural legacy. Of course, from the conservative point of view, the region’s
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weakness also largely comes from its history, in particular the communist past. However, the legacy of communism is understood as involving destruction of the most precious native traditional values and culture. All dependencies can be analyzed in the historical terms of their genesis. However, as it seems, one should look at them primarily as contemporary relations of power and see their effectiveness (or its lack) in their present structures and synergies rather than in their historical origin as such. Analysis of the historical roots of such structures may shed additional light on a particular mechanisms of dependencies, but history itself, as I would argue, should not be seen as a driving force behind them. Moreover, historical legacies are not reproduced by pure inertia, but rather by the fact that they get integrated into wider structures of the social world, which in effect of synergies are maintaining them. Such reproduction is, however, possible as long as it is functional from the point of view of the dominant structures of power relations at a given period. In other words, I argue that it is not the “strength” of historical structures, in whatever way we would define it, which is the key mechanism of their reproduction, but rather their structural integration within contemporary social hierarchies. Historical legacies seem important foremostly as narratives, which can be seen as ideologies or as elements of cultural capital reinforcing particular social structures. In other words, a sound narrative of the historical genesis of some social structures, if it is widely recognized as its valid “explanation”, may be seen as its effective reinforcement. In the case of Central and Eastern Europe, all discourses on their historically developed backwardness or underdevelopment, irrespectively of the discourses’ factual validity and other criteria of assessment, may be seen as “ideologies” of the region’s dependence both in a positive and negative sense. That is irrespectively of their positive or critical character, whether they are presenting historical legacies in terms of “natural” or “logical” developments or as brutal acts of injustice calling for condemnation, they simultaneously reinforce the given dependencies by what could be called their “historicization”. Post-colonial theory, which will be discussed here, namely as one of the ideologies of “eastness”, can be also seen as one of the examples of such historicization of contemporary dependencies. It is worth noting that discourses pertaining to the historical roots of contemporary dependencies may be in particular read as legitimizations of particular social hierarchies and specific actions. A good example is the discourse of “coming to terms” with or “overcoming” some specific historical legacies. Methods of achieving such symbolic goals are usually purely arbitrary. In most cases they are defined primarily by dominant actors having a decisive impact on a given type of discourse. One can note that such discourses may present almost any social, political and economic action as an element of “coming to terms” with traumatic memory, “historical reconciliation” or “repayment of historic moral debts”. At the same time, these discourses allow to classify social groups in a highly normative way. On the one hand, those who are judged as able to “confront their difficult past” or “overcome the historical traumas” are applauded and
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their superiority over those, who “do not want to come to terms with the difficult past” or are simply “ignoring” their “responsibility to remember”, becomes obvious. Those “ignoring” the past are often paradoxically presented as its hostages or slaves. This is because of the implicit assumption of the majority of historical discourses that active “memory work” may allow those who actively engage in reflection on their social past to free themselves from historic dependencies in which they are embedded. This assumption can be seen as a tool of symbolic violence. In any case, most of such assumptions seem, to say the least, very simplistic given the multidimensional nature of social structures, which can’t be particularly reduced to cultural or historical mechanisms. One could note that the discourse on post-communism, discussed above as a hegemonic ideology of eastness in zone one, can be also seen as a type of historic interpretation of the region’s past; one which also implies a call for active “memory work” and diverse activities in all spheres aimed at “overcoming the post-communist legacy”. At the same time one could note that even critical academic interpretations of the region’s history may appear to be too dependent on one sided views on history as a self-reproducing legacy waiting to be coped with, particularly in cases when it is seen as a negative burden. A good example is the above mentioned The Invention of Eastern Europe by Larry Wolf (Wolff, 1994). Analyzing present day orientalist stereotypes of the region, Wolf points to the existence of striking similarities between the eighteenth century images of Central and Eastern Europe, and the most recent negative stereotypical visions of the region. What seems to follow from Wolf ’s argument is that these negative images are simply constantly reproduced and function in Western discourses as a result of some kind of cultural inertia. However, when taking into account Atilla Melegh’s argument presented in his On the East-West slope: Globalization, narration, racism and discourses on CEE (Melegh, 2006), we can note that the strength of the very same stereotypes was considerably changing over the course of the twentieth century. Melegh points out that more recent factors stimulate orientalist discourses in Central and Eastern Europe. Of special interest is the question of the collapse of the Soviet modernization project, which Melegh raises. As he points out, the crisis of the communist project during the 1970s and 1980s clearly stimulated the rise of classical orientalist images of the region. In effect, the Eastern bloc, which used to be “real” and “concrete” and was identified with progress and modernization, became an imitative artificial project based on an irrational ideological basis and shaken by social and ethnic conflicts. Thus, in the late 1970s, the modernization discourse about the communist bloc has been gradually replaced by a civilizational discourse, while Western intelligence agencies like the CIA turned their efforts from gathering “facts” about Soviet modernization to assessing the scale and nature of ethnic conflicts on the territory of the Soviet Union. Ever since the former Soviet Union lost its symbolic capital, the communist past has been considered a stigma and has been conflated with the classical orientalist set of features with regards to the negative stereotyping of
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Eastern Europe. As mentioned above, a good example in this case is the concept of “eastern mentality”, which is currently often related to the supposed communist heritage. This example shows that the functioning of what is called negative stereotypes is not a process restricted to the symbolic sphere, but is strongly conditioned by the wider geopolitical context in which economic and political factors can play interchanging roles. A critical reading of Larry Wolf ’s The Invention of Eastern Europe presented by Ihar Bobkov, also points to the unidimensional functioning of negative stereotypes. As Bobkov noted: Woolf disagrees with Wallerstein elegantly rejecting his whole model of the Eastern European presence in the history of the capitalist world-economy in just one paragraph. Moreover Wolf does not explain anywhere what the invention of Eastern Europe means and what real problem the corresponding managed to solve for the West besides the preservation of the center’s narcissism. (Bobkov, 2010: 97) Bobkov reminds us that Said’s object of research is the interrelationship between power and knowledge, and that “images and ideas of the East invented by Orientalism are not only a lie or myth. They certainly concern the reality but the relationship is difficult and ambivalent” (Bobkov, 2010: 99). Foremostly, “orientalism works through knowledge, applies knowledge and relies on it. In this sense it is not at all connected with imagination, fantasies and with everything that according to Wolf served as the basic materials at the invention of Eastern Europe” (Bobkov, 2010: 99). Bobkov argues that Wolf chooses the inappropriate material. He insists on including the analysis of reactions by Eastern European intellectuals, without which Wolf’s scheme is not simply incomplete. “It simply hangs in the air” (Bobkov, 2010: 102). Additionally, Bobkov argues that the: history of European periphery is not something external in relation to the process of European modernities. It is their organic part. But at the same time it is its confidential hidden part. It is something that has never come to the surface of the European cultural narrative. (Bobkov, 2010: 102–3) One could put forward several other examples of situations in which seemingly deeply entrenched and self-perpetuating stereotypes of Eastern Europe evolve or even wane under the clear impact of the wider political or economic context. Alexander Maxwell, referring to a paper by Florian Gassner (Gassner, 2011), gives an interesting example in this case, namely, of an absence of German Russophobia during the Napoleonic wars, which suggests that “the prejudice against an Eastern ‘other’ waxes and wanes in response to political events” (Maxwell, 2011: 29). A more general remark was made by Dominique Moïsi (Moïsi, 2009). He suggested that historical images of the past, even if loaded with strong
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emotions, are important. However, they are usually not so much a function of cultural differences (“civilizational” tensions and historical memories), but rather result from a level of “social energy” defined by the current potential, in particular the economic potential of a given state and its ability to modify external influences. “Historical memory” is in Moïsi’s view secondary in relation to geopolitical and economic relations. In addition, I would argue that stereotypes, and, more broadly, images of regions and theories about them, should be also seen both as historical products and as products of a given configuration of political, economic and cultural forces. They all have a historical genesis, which is an important aspect of their nature and the knowledge of which is indispensable for full understanding of their functioning. On the other hand, the fact of their persistence usually can’t be explained solely by the inertia of some cultural or discoursive forms. As mentioned above, the hegemonic historical narrative of zone one is the post-communist discourse. The latter is referred to by both the liberal and the conservative camps. At the same time, the liberal camp is strongly relying on the narrative of the “nationalist past” as a weakness to overcome. Thus, the nationalist past, just as the post-communist past, appears as a historical heritage to be coped with. Just as with the communist legacy, the process of its overcoming is an important aspect of both internal and international power relations in the region. Merje Kuus points out that the threat of nationalism the region allegedly poses is an important element of the discourse on Central and Eastern Europe. The region, as Kuus argues, is often presented as “embroiled in nationalists fantasies that must be kept in check by the West” (Kuus, 2004a: 475). A constant risk of falling into nationalism and authoritarianism is a common element of such discourses, and a choice between “emulating Europe or lapsing into ethnic nationalism” is often imposed on the region. As mentioned earlier, the rhetoric in regards to the threat of nationalism is also often employed by the liberal intelligentsia on a national level and framed in the context of a wider political cleavage. The liberal, pro-European pole of such a cleavage usually has a tendency for seeing its opponents as representing more or less dangerous forms of nationalism. One has to note that in a situation when the dominant cleavage of the peripheral political scene is defined as a divide between pro- and anti-center camps, the demarcation of the borderline between “nationalism” and “patriotism” becomes a key question in the political confrontation. That line is highly contextual and often contested. Actors with an ability to define its location in an effective way, particularly in terms of its recognition in the West, have a clear advantage in the game of the field of power. The distinction between “dangerous nationalism” and “rational patriotism”, while necessarily arbitrary, when seen from a particular political context may get relatively objectified. The key issues from the point of view of the centerperiphery relations, are, however, questions of, first, how specific the threat of nationalism is to the region of Central and Eastern Europe or its specific states, and, second, questions of where exactly the borderline between legitimate and
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dangerous nationalism should be seen in specific countries. The in-between zone of distinction between nationalism, understood as danger, and patriotism, understood as legitimate taking care of national interests, may be seen as the place where the crucial confrontation between the main actors of the field of power is taking place. The assignment of a nationalist status may be seen in some cases as a stake in power games, given the widely shared recognition of nationalism as a threat which may be specifically characteristic to Central and Eastern Europe. Labeling opponents as “nationalists”, “fundamentalists” or “neo-fascists” may be, in the same time, a reflection of the broader international trend, described by Chantalle Mouffe (Mouffe, 2005), who saw them as the only legitimate enemies of modern liberal discourse. We could note that the pro-European liberal side tends to present the line, where dangerous nationalism starts, as being close to the center of the field of power, in this way implying that major part of its conservative opponents may already belong to that category. The Euro-skeptical conservative side itself tends to move that imagined borderline as far right as possible. In effect, it either implies that no “true”, that is, dangerous nationalists exists in the country, or that they are located at the very far and extreme end of the political field, of course, much further right that the mainstream conservative forces. This debate on the extent and precise limits of nationalist forces in the field of power, and, more specifically, in the political field, is strongly linked with the dependent position of Central and Eastern European countries, since the liberal-conservative axis is based on differences in the attitude towards Western domination. The perspective of the liberal side which tends to maximize the scope of the nationalist threat within the field of power, is, in effect, more credible to Western observers. This gives the liberals an advantage over their opponents, who usually do not enjoy comparable European credentials. As some analysts note, a comparative assessment of the scope of nationalism in the region may be difficult, given its different nature in comparison to those of the main countries of the European core. As George Schöpflin points out, Central Europe never underwent the experience of a strong, centralized political power that could condense culture sufficiently for it to become national. In effect, East European nationalisms, lacking sufficient past and present support of strong nation states, may appear as inferior, “wider”, that is, weakly controllable and, thus, dangerous. Their specificity, using the notions developed by Bourdieu, could be described as including a strong reliance on the cultural capital and a weaker reliance on the political capital of the state, particularly as far as zone one and two are concerned. Another problem with Central and Eastern European nationalisms is that the very notion of nationalism, as George Schöpflin reminds us, has been largely imported in the region from the West, which again puts the region in a weaker position of imitation. More specifically, Schöpflin writes that: The key factor here was that the region was not directly involved in the formulation of the innovations and the new thought-worlds and thought-styles
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was the work of outsiders, just as feudalism had been. The concept of nation that was imported from the West, therefore, was necessarily narrowed by the aims for which the concept was to be deployed and equally by the structural weakness of an absence of society and nation. When it comes to the Central Europeans’ own experience of constructing modernity, it is hard to see anything other than partial success at best and this lack of success certainly influences attitudes currently. From the perspective of the region, this has created a sense of incompleteness, indeterminacy, marginalisation and powerlessness. Incompleteness, however, assumes that somewhere out there, there exists completeness and this, in turn, implies that the concept of Europe is radically condensed into a model that the Central and South-East Europeans can try to adopt, but because this reductionism damages the effectiveness of the original, it is never actually reached. The outcome is a frustration, which can become the seed-bed of nativism, populism and xenophobic, rejectionist nationalism. The Western response was to try to marginalise ethnicity and to impose what it believed were nonethnic approaches to the exercise of power. This was the thrust of the message that the West delivered to the post-communist world. The message was, as I have argued, both flawed and misplaced. It was flawed because it assumed that the West is, if not without sin (and thus in a good position to cast stones) certainly without ethnicity; this is an error. And secondly it was misplaced because it wholly misunderstood the reliance on ethnicity in Central Europe, attributing it to ‘ancient hatreds’ and a kind of generic if not actually genetic deficiency on the part of the people of the region. (Schöpflin, 2003: 11) As a result of such asymmetries between the Western core and the European peripheries, some see a paradox which consists of tendencies, particularly among the liberal sectors of the fields of power in the region, to perceive many of the Central and Eastern European states as too nationalistic, while the sources of many national problems could be rather seen in the weakness and inefficiency of their nation-making policies. Thus, for example, Tomasz Stryjek notes, following Adam Michnik, that the countries of Central and Eastern Europe, which joined the EU, could be accepted and make their European choice, namely because they proved to be largely homogenous mono-cultural nation-states. The paradox is that while the European Union aspires to present itself as a multicultural community, in practice, countries like Belarus or Ukraine could be seen as too-multi-cultural to be able to make a clear pro-European choice and be equivocally accepted by the EU (Stryjek, 2010: 94). Thus, the modern histories of the region’s countries are often not problematic just because of conflicts over historical facts or their interpretations. What becomes of crucial importance in the mainstream debates, are the questions of proportions in the mainstream condensed images of regions; in particular, proportions of forces which could be qualified as “bad”, that is, usually
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nationalistic, to those, seen as “good” or neutral from the point of view of civil society’s contemporary dominant values. These proportions pertain to relations of forces inside specific countries, zones or the entire region, and relations between the scope of “bad” forces in Eastern European and core countries. A good case in point is Bloodlands, a recent book by Timothy Snyder (Snyder, 2010). The book has been highly acclaimed in Poland, not so much for any new findings presented by the author or even for the novelty of his particular interpretations. What was valued most, were the “right proportions” which he reconstructed, and, most importantly, presented to Western readers as a credible Western historian. For example, journalist Włodzimierz Kalicki argued that Synder’s book “restitutes proportions between particular categories of victims of mass crimes of totalitarianism” (Kalicki, 2011). At the same time, many Central Europeans see the symbolic violence of the Western core over the Eastern periphery precisely in the question of proportions of particular threads in the historical narratives of the region. A good example of such discontent is voiced by the Polish historian Janusz Tazbir, who argues: If from the entirety of the Western press only newspapers from the period of 1995–2005 would be saved, historians of the following generations would have a conviction that the remains of the ethnic minorities [in Poland] were killed by the Poles themselves already after 1945. (Tazbir, 2006: 17) In this context, Tomasz Stryjek has been writing about “historical scales” on which national historians have put “Martyrological-heroic” weights that are supposed to balance the negative aspects of national histories, in particular crimes and evils. The pressure on historians to produce positive proportions in the historical images of their countries, is often coming from different sides of the field of power. Often it is the political field where such issues are openly debated. This is the case with most countries of the region, and, according to Stryjek, the case with the Baltic states, in which these proportions are carefully balanced by politicians (Stryjek, 2011: 198). One could note that the proportions between “bad” and “good” developments and actors, may not even concern specific areas or times for which specific rules of establishing proportionality can be discussed, especially those based on statistics. Criteria as arbitrary as “popular interest” or “social importance”, as well as “political climate”, may justify historians’ focus on events and historical figures. Nevertheless, these proportions often become the objects of debates in the field of power as they constitute stakes in the game of production of the historical image of specific countries or regions. In most cases, it is the liberals who consider the negatively interpreted elements of history as more “interesting” and “politically and socially relevant”. They allow making calls for new campaigns to “overcome the bad past” where their position would be privileged. On the other hand, conservatives call historians to focus on the “good” aspects of national history, which they see as more relevant in the context of contemporary political
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life and, in particular, when considering “national interests”. This is because these stories allow them to make calls for new campaigns that reinforce national pride, which is presented by conservatives as suffering from complexes of inferiority instilled by the liberals. What is often made as an implicit assumption in such debates, is that there exists a global, or at least dominant Western uniform field of cultural production, in which “common sense” images of particular countries and their histories are produced. Thus, national or even local debates on historical interpretations may appear as attempts at altering the consensus reached at the global level of cultural production. In such situation, the peripheral countries and regions may appear in a very weak position, which, however, will not always be directly discussed, as this could contradict the assumption of sovereignty of modes of study of the historical past as well as that of freedom of choice of objects (periods, actors or regions) for a historical study.
Inclusion of the region in the global archives of knowledge In my emphasis on the role of hierarchies and comprehensive approach to orientalism, particular importance is assigned to what can be called hierarchies of knowledge. One can assume that any national field of power produces a specific hierarchy of knowledge, which becomes the dominant point of reference for a given society. The global hierarchy of knowledge, produced by the field of power of the core of the world system, defines canons of values, norms, information and interpretations as well as sources, publications, publishers, and, last but not least, authors. They can be also manifested in hierarchies of texts, some of which may assume canonical status, as well as in broader discourses. Their hierarchies are being constantly negotiated and re-negotiated, but in a given moment of time one is able to estimate the position of particular discourses within the global hierarchy of knowledge. Peripheral states and regions pursue two parallel strategies, which in particular circumstances will have different proportions. On the one hand, these are attempts at placing their own discourses at the highest possible level of global hierarchies, or influence the dominant discourses in a way that is most beneficial for them. On the other hand, there are strategies of building autonomous peripheral hierarchies of knowledge. In the second case, such autonomy will always be partial, as in most cases a peripheral system of knowledge is not able to isolate itself from global hierarchies and from the symbolic violence of core knowledge systems. As mentioned above, from the point of view of Bourdieu’s approach, the field of power is the key arena where the battle over the legitimate vision of the world is taking place. What is at stake is a system of legitimate classifications which will be imposed on the outside world. At the same time, these legitimate classifications produce social groups which will, in turn, be mobilized and acquire “real existence” (Bourdieu, 1985). The process of imposition of a system of legitimate classifications has been also discussed by Pierre
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Bourdieu and Luc Boltanski under the label of “production of the dominant ideology” (Bourdieu and Boltanski, 2008). The power of the global hierarchy of knowledge has diverse effects on peripheral regions and states. Many of them have been already discussed by post-colonial thinkers. They include mechanisms which can be called “asymmetric ignorance” or a situation in which peripheries are forced to stay abreast of and respect central canons of knowledge, while centers are free to ignore most of the peripheral canons. For example, as Edward Said argued, no Arab academic can afford ignoring what is happening in Western academia, but Western academics do not feel any pressure to have any knowledge of developments in Arab universities. In postcolonial theory such dependence has been labeled as inability of former colonies to return the Western gaze. As Dipesh Chakrabarty argued, modern social sciences are to a large extent a product of the West and they are difficult to democratize. In effect, the West is largely dominating the production of theoretical components for the social sciences, while peripheries provide empirical data. This dependence can also be related to an opposition between universal de-territorialized knowledge, produced by the global core, and “territorial knowledge”. In effect, experts residing in world core regions have much better conditions to play a role of theoreticians, while those from the peripheries usually may only claim specific knowledge of their own regions. Edward Said noticed that these asymmetries in the position of peripheral knowledge within the global knowledge hierarchy may be linked to institutional asymmetries. As Said noticed, the Middle East is characterized by weak, underfinanced universities and badly paid academics. The region lacks a single good academic library, and these observations seem to be valid for many other peripheral regions. A broader aspect of these dependencies relates to the asymmetry in the state of the entire knowledge production system in the peripheries, including not only academia, but also the media, the education system and the publishing institutions. Their strength is often related to economic and political resources and regions, and should not be ignored. Said noted that Western discourses often identify the problem of Oriental expression in the Middle East, in other words, the inability of the inhabitants of the east to produce images of their region on equal terms with their Western counterparts. As Said notes, the Orient is usually described in the West and by Western experts and scholars, while its own representatives are not able to interpret the position of their own culture or history on the global scene. Gayatri Spivak presents a more general argument by discussing the above mentioned issues and suggesting that “subaltern cannot speak” (Spivak, 1988). This happens not necessarily because the Orient is expressly forbidden to speak about its problems, but because the views prevailing in the West consider the Orient as being imitative and not original. The oriental point of view usually turns out to be “outdated”, thus uninspiring and therefore not worth hearing. Thus, as I would argue, of foremost importance is the peripheral status of the region, which status not only influences all aspects of social organization, but moreover, critically influences conditions of production of knowledge
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about the region. As I have argued, the mechanism of production of knowledge can be seen as being as much hierarchized as other aspects of social life. The entire region of Central and Eastern Europe, as well as its particular actors ranging from states and nations, through classes and strata and ending with individuals, aspire to assume the best possible place in the global hierarchy of knowledge. What seems of particular importance in this context is the question of the ability to include (and exclude) particular elements in the body of the hierarchy of knowledge about Central and Eastern Europe, or to use Foucault’s language, in the archive of knowledge. More generally, the rules of inclusion and exclusion are an issue of critical importance from the point of view of the producers of knowledge about the region. Its visibility but also prestige, or positive image, in the Western and, in effect, global scene are of high concern to politicians, media and other actors in the region, as they realized that the former form a critically important aspect of their functioning. Therefore, academics dealing with the region are under indirect and sometimes direct pressure to contribute to the improvement of that image. Those of them who are located in countries of the region realize that, as members of the intelligentsia, they have a moral obligation to act in the interest of their nations, that is, to work on the improvement of their images. A good example of the academics’ awareness of that mission, are numerous publications that deplore the very poor and biased image of their countries in the West. A good case in point is an edited volume, entitled About us without us (O nas bez nas) and published in Poland. It is a collection of papers discussing images of Poland’s history, presented in textbooks and in mainstream historical discourses . of selected European countries and of the US (Molik and Zalin´ski, 2007). Not surprisingly, the book is full of complaints about the marginalization of Poland’s history, and about the incorrect interpretations and negative stereotyping of Poland and Poles in Western academia. Examples of several similar publications could be easily quoted. Thus, for instance, the work of Kazimierz Wóycicki and Waldemar Czachur on the image of Poland in Germany presents a critical view on mainstream discourses on Poland in Germany. As they argue, Poles are rarely invited to personally present their views. In effect, the political choices of Poles are often misunderstood (Wóycicki and Czachur, 2009: 55). Moreover, Wóycicki and Czachur maintain that the only element of Poland’s history, the knowledge of which is required from German high school students, is the fact of the partitions of Poland (Wóycicki and Czachur, 2009: 69). Another example of such an analysis is a critical article by Michał Buchowski (Buchowski, 2004). He presents a pessimistic image of contemporary anthropology, in which he sees clear hierarchies of knowledge production, in particular with reference to Central Europe. Buchowski argues that scholars from the region have a subaltern status in relation to their Western colleagues. This structure, as he argues, is especially reflected in influential publications on the region, where the presence of native authors is restricted, if their work appears in print at all. They are either junior co-authors who mostly have a role of researchers, or emigrants in the West, where they
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have permanent positions at universities. Michał Buchowski has even called “post-socialist studies” a new form of orientalism and argued that Central and East European anthropologists are themselves an object of inquiry, while their texts are generally not seen as worthy of systematic attention in the West. Besides, there have been already several other studies published, which attest to the relative marginalization of scholars from Central and Eastern Europe in respect to the production of global discourses in selected fields of social sciences. Elena Tarasheva from Bulgaria presented a case study of East European linguists who appear to rarely publish in Western journals and, if they do so, they mostly write about their own countries using Western theory (Tarasheva, 2011). Judith Timar, on the other hand, published a study on the field of geography that points to similar tendencies and dominant relations between Western and Eastern scholars, institutionalized, especially in Western-sponsored research projects, as theoretician-informer relations (Timar, 2004). Merje Kuus reminds us that the ability of liberal intelligentsia to influence the image of their countries is one of the key symbolic resources of Central and East European elite (Kuus, 2004b). As this ability is based on high cultural status, it may be seen as an excellent illustration of the power of cultural capital in the region. Kuus discussed the example of Estonia’s president Lennart Meri, who played an important role in the process of Estonia’s inclusion on the map of Europe. As Kuus suggested, the very same process involved a symbolic exclusion of Russia, while it was accompanied by declarations of respect for the high Russian culture. On the other hand, she points to the deeply ideological roots of East European Studies in the Western world, to their strong links to governmental and intelligence circles. Thus, the production of knowledge on Central and Eastern Europe can be seen as involved in building a hierarchy of knowledge which is linked to two highly separate power games. On the one hand, these are the games in highly institutionalized fields of knowledge production in core countries, and, on the other hand, these are games in peripheral fields of the region’s countries, where the main players are intelligentsia members competing for much less formalized forms of assets. One could note that the problem of the region’s presence in a “European archive of knowledge” is reproduced at different levels in particular countries, where lowerlevel entities are competing for standing in the “archives” of higher positioned states. Regions are competing for more privileged presence in national archives, cities are competing for status in regional archives, etc. In all these cases, as argued above, the process of knowledge production is not taking place in isolation from other aspects of social life, particularly from economics and politics. Resources, including material, institutional and political, both generate prestige as well as create machinery necessary for the production and sustaining of knowledge. At the same time, we have to be aware that the field of knowledge production has a degree of autonomy, which does not allow reducing it to purely economic or political factors, while the resources, both economic and political, may be important assets that allow achieving a certain degree of autonomy. Thus, the analysis of any attempts at taking part in
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the production of knowledge on the region of Central and Eastern Europe has to take into account the context of competition over the shape of hierarchies of knowledge. Locally produced discourses may be seen as involved in the double game of central and peripheral academic fields of power.
The incompleteness and irrationality of Central and Eastern European history A useful way of framing the above discussed mechanisms of assignment of specific historically originated weaknesses like communism, nationalism, nepotism or obsession with culture to the societies of Central and Eastern Europe, has been proposed by contemporary Indian author Dipesh Chakrabarty. In his seminal Provincializing Europe (Chakrabarty, 2000), already a classic in postcolonial studies, Chakrabarty notes that Western social sciences are based on a mechanism of universalization of particularistic historical experiences of the West. As a result, all the other regions of the world turn out to be “backward” in some way or another, while their histories remain “deficient”. This is because they have not experienced, or have only experienced in a limited scale, the ground-breaking events of Western social history, such as the French revolution or the Reformation. Their history, in light of Western theories, always appears as full of “failures” and “shortcomings”. The relatively privileged role of religion, which is characteristic for many of them, defines their image as irrational, far from the ideal of modernity promoted by Western social sciences. That modern dominant ideal is identified by Chakrabarty as capitalism, based on the values of secularized Calvinism. The question of rationality is, of course, strongly linked to the problem of modernity. In Dipesh Chakrabarty’s view, the notion of modernity has been stolen by Western Europe and has become a part of European Imperialism, which does not mean that the post-colonial countries are not using violence (Chakrabarty, 2000). At the same time, Chakrabarty offers a useful insight into the mechanisms of production of asymmetries resulting in the apparent “irrationality” of peripheries. As he argues, history is not only seen as more important in peripheral context, but it has a different status. Subaltern links to the past appear to be not as much historical as ethnographic. The status of Central and Eastern Europe appears again ambiguous in this dimension. Central European countries do have some history, which is theoretically European but, at the same time, highly marginalized in the European mainstream historical canon. Quite often representatives of these states complain not only about the marginal presence of their states’ histories in the Western European historical canon, but also about marginalization in that filed in respect to the relative visibility of Russia in it. Another aspect of irrationality of post-colonial peripheries, in Chakrabarty’s view, is the role of God or gods in their history. Such a peripheral history appears to be relatively closer to a middle-ages variant of European history with no borderline between visible and invisible worlds. Secularization of
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world core areas, in particular that of Western Europe, involves a clear separation between the natural world that is “rational” and the supra-natural world, which is classified as irrational and is no longer used in the legitimization of the structures of domination. Chakrabarty also discusses the central role of Christianity in the European definition of universality. As he argues, Western dominant reason is grounded in the Christian concept of God. However, later he also mentions the centrality of secularization and defines contemporary capitalism as a Calvinism without God. This is an interesting point, which emphasizes the ambiguous placement of a considerable part of Central and East European countries, particularly of those, which have higher than European levels of religiosity and did not have dominant protestant traditions. Catholic and Orthodox countries currently appear also to some extent excluded from the definition of capitalist rationality as reconstructed by Chakrabarty. These are not Protestant nations and they still largely believe in God, which makes them much less “rational” than Western Europeans, even while sharing a common Christian heritage. Therefore, while Hindus may be seen as opposing Christian understanding of universalism, Poles, Lithuanians or Russians may be seen as opposing the secularized Protestant understanding of universalism. However, we can also find a number of completely non-religious elements in the history of Central and Eastern European countries, which are nevertheless often classified as proofs of these countries’ irrationality. Good examples are Polish uprisings, and, in particular, the Warsaw Uprising of 1944, which is often seen as a proof of Polish foolishness. Interestingly, such uses of the Warsaw Uprising of 1944 can be found also at a regional level. In orientalist discourses of regional identity in Upper Silesia or Greater Poland, one can encounter references to the cult of Warsaw Uprising as a proof of the irrationality on the part of the former Russian zone of Poland. Interestingly, The Ghetto Uprising of 1943 is rarely classified as irrational, even if it had no chance of succeeding at all. One could probably argue that the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising became a strong element of the “sacred” discourses of the Holocaust, thus, its “irrationality” has been successfully transformed into one of the symbols of the core of modern secular Jewish and global discourse on fundamental values. The 1944 Warsaw Rising is used in the same way in the Polish identity discourse, that is, as an element of the “irrational” core of the “rational” national identity, and in secularized discourses of Polishness it is discussed as a transcendent value. For several reasons, the case of the 1944 Polish Rising is the story of the less successful sacralization of the irrationality of a lost battle. Among them, one can mention the political conflicts regarding the place of the 1944 Rising in Poland’s history. First, communists opposed its recognition, while in the post-communist era it has been recognized as a heroic moment in Poland’s history. However, its “rationality”, in particular the decision to start the rising, became the object of heated political debates. The conservative sector of the political scene tended to support its sacralization, while the liberal sector was raising numerous objections regarding assigning it an unequivocal status of a national identity symbol. At the same time, there is
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a clear competition between the two risings, Polish and Jewish, not only as far their “rationality” is concerned, but mostly as far their presence in the global history is concerned. One can often hear complains in Poland that the much larger and similarly tragic Polish Rising of 1944 is much less known in the West than the Ghetto Rising of 1943. This seems to be one example of the constant competition over the presence of elements of national histories in global canons. In a similar way, the Western perspective makes Central and East European history “incomplete”. However, as mentioned earlier, the incompleteness of the region is much more ambiguous than that of the fully peripheral and, in particular, post-colonial countries. Central and Eastern Europe may be seen as being in a constant process of negotiating the degree of their incompleteness. An interesting element of this hierarchical system is the question of citizenship and civil society. Chakrabarty argues that the contemporary globally dominant model of citizenship was largely produced in Britain. At its heart was the idea of a “bourgeois equality of citizen’s rights”. This British symbolic global domination helped to legitimize the nineteenth century British occupation of India, since the latter could be presented as a “modernization” of the country by means of introducing modern notions of citizenship and civic culture. Interestingly, the Prussian occupation of Poland during the nineteenth century was, and often is, still interpreted in a somewhat similar fashion in Poland. In Chakrabarty’s view, as a result of British imposition of standards of citizenship, Indian public life could only mimic on paper the bourgeois legal fiction of citizenship. In this way India, also in the dimension of civil society, appears to have what Homi Babha called mimetic history, and to be a “sad figure of lack and failure”. The problem of the imposition of the British model of citizenship is a part of the above-mentioned problem regarding India’s “incompleteness of history”. Chakrabarty mentions three key absences of his country’s history: a bourgeois revolution, a proletarian revolution and a peasant revolution. Interestingly, many of the Central and Eastern European countries may have similar problems with a supposed incompleteness of their histories. Specifically, most of them are lacking the three founding revolutions in their classical Western sense. It is difficult to point to classical bourgeois revolutions primarily because of the very weak bourgeoisie and the prolonged hegemony of nobility in most countries of the region. At the same time, a considerable part of the bourgeoisie in the towns of Central Europe was of foreign origin. Apart from the weakness of cities and the low numbers of native burghers, another reason for the lack of a classic bourgeois revolution was the deficiency or the weakness of the nation states in the region themselves during the crucial period of the nineteenth century. Poland in particular lost its independence almost exactly at the time of the French Revolution. In effect, the bourgeoisie could not confront a Polish nation state, which did not exist. Several other contemporary nation states in the region were non-existent during the crucial period of the nineteenth century. In effect, instead of emergence of classic social class conflict inside
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nation states, we could observe confrontations between peripheral national movements and the empires controlling the region. Parts of the bourgeoisie and the richest landowners were often willingly collaborating with the ruling classes of the empires. In Poland, however, the large mass of the petty nobility was strongly critical of the imperial rule, in particular that of Russia, and contributed towards political outcomes, in which the confrontation between the dominant and the broadly defined Polish national liberation movement formed the key cleavage of Polish politics at the turn of nineteenth and twentieth century. In such context, the class conflicts were engulfed by the national or center-periphery conflicts defined along issues of national independence. At the end of the nineteenth century, however, one could observe a clear process of substitution of the nobility and, in particular, of the aristocracy with the so-called intelligentsia. The intelligentsia was a new group, composed primarily of petty nobility losing its symbolic and material status (Gella, 1976). Originally, it was denouncing aristocratic values and traditional social hierarchies, and advocating ideas of modernization and democratization. Later, while it established itself as the new elite, it took over a considerable part of the old traditions of the nobility. In effect, we could talk about this process as a peaceful revolution in Poland. Despite lack of statehood and lack of open, in particular military, confrontation, we could observe the emergence of a new elite. Finally, at the beginning of the twentieth century, the intelligentsia took over the dominant position in the nascent Polish field of power. The triumph of the intelligentsia was simultaneously a defeat for the nobility, in particular for the aristocracy, and for another of the intelligentsia’s competitors—the bourgeoisie. The strongest blow for the bourgeoisie came during the First World War with the collapse of the economic and political system created by the three empires. Intelligentsia, at the same time, because of its reliance primarily on cultural capital as the key asset defining its social position, was largely immune to the fall of the imperial economic and political order. The crisis of the bourgeoisie implied that the political constitutions of countries emerging about 1918 in Central Europe were largely defined by the intelligentsia’s systems of values and its model of civic culture. The intelligentsia elites of the region produced in the same time several new, more or less successful nationalisms, in particular Lithuanian and Ukrainian, as well as the less successful Belarusian nationalism. Poland, which re-emerged on the political map in 1918, already had a social structure based on the intelligentsia’s system of political and social values. Therefore citizenship in the Second Rzeczpospolita has been defined in universal terms on the basis of ennoblement of all inhabitants of Poland. The aristocratic titles were abolished and equality of all citizens was declared, just as theoretically all nobles were equal during the times of the First Republic. Several language conventions, adopted in the Second Republic and continued to this day, reflect this form of defining citizenship in Poland. In particular, the parliament is called Sejm (which was the name of the assembly of the nobility) and the title “sir” (Pan/Pani) is a common way of addressing people in Poland, while before it was only reserved for the members of the nobility.
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One could also note that both peasant and proletarian revolutions did not appear in classic forms in countries like Poland, since they were also intertwined with the nationally defined political conflicts. Emancipation of peasants was progressing gradually as a result of the competition between the national movements, led by the nobility and the intelligentsia, and the empires controlling the region until the First World War. All of them aspired to attract peasants on their side by offering more attractive prospects of land reforms. Workers, at the same time, have been an object of competition between the weak leftist organization of socialists and communists and national liberation movements. As the industrialization of Central European lands was progressing very slowly, the workers were not very numerous compared with their counterparts in core Western European regions during the same period. This was a factor hindering the development of class cleavages. Furthermore, a major part of the workers have been attracted by nationalist movements. This trend of substitution of economic, class-defined demands by political, nationallydefined demands was stimulated by the fact that a major part of the economic elite in Central European countries was of non-native origin. In most of the industrial centers bourgeoisie was rather of German, Jewish or Russian descent. Hungarian or Polish history, just as those of most countries in the region, is thus “deficient” in several aspects when seen through the prism of the classic modernization theory paradigm, and may be seen as a source of structural dependencies on the West in the symbolic sphere. The lack of clear revolutionary transitions, or as Anna Sosnowska termed it, the lack of “liberal” and “social” moments (Sosnowska, 1997), makes Polish politics, Polish civil society as well as Polish social sciences considerably incompatible with the typical Western patterns. In all these spheres confusion may constantly occur between native traditions, values and ways of defining key social concepts. Sosnowska interpreted these incompatibilities as confusion between “here” and “there”, which is characteristic for the discourse of Polish social sciences. By “here” she referred to the local context of Central Europe, while by “there” she meant the Western European core, which is a central point of symbolic reference for normative notions and for the theoretical language used in the social sciences. One could note that in such conditions of Western domination, the peripheral social scientists can resort to one of the two strategies, mentioned above, which are available to actors in the peripheral field of culture. First, they can play the role of representatives of the core at the periphery, that is, take Western theoretical models for granted and measure the social reality of their localities by Western academic standards. Second, they can assume the role of representatives of the periphery or even the role of its defenders. In such case, they could theoretically criticize or at least critically review Western theoretical models as tools of symbolic violence by the core. Given the scale of Western symbolic domination, however, direct attempts at challenging Western theory are rather rare, in particular in Central Europe, that is, in zone one. They may be bolder in zone three, that is, mostly in Russia, where intellectuals like Aleksander Dugin claim to challenge Western
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European social thought, but, in fact, even there the entire social sciences and humanities fields are built on the foundations of Western European thought. Therefore, the conflict between Western-oriented and national theoreticians in most cases turns into a conflict of interpretations and modes of application of Western theory. In zone one, radical strategies are rarely observed. Reflexive analysis of the role of the intelligentsia and that of the region’s social history rarely openly and critically address the dependence of the region on the Western core. This could be seen not only in the cultural terms, drafted by Chakrabarty, but also in a wider perspective on political and economic domination. Second, the role of the intelligentsia, and its historical embeddedness in terms of definitions of citizenship are rarely questioned. The key conflict in zone one, refers to split of the elite of the intelligentsia, located in the field of power, into the two above mentioned camps. The liberal camps largely reproduce Western symbolic violence and naturalize the dependence of the region by idealizing Western standards of citizenship and “ideal history”. Liberals often point to the deficiencies of their nations’ history, and call for reforms and actions aimed at “overcoming” those deficiencies. On the other hand, the conservatives usually defend a considerable part of the national heritage and celebrate the unique national history. The contrast between the two camps is, however, not radical in this dimension. Conservatives, in their passion for revival of the glorious national memory and in their awareness of the uniqueness of national culture, do not contrast it with Western European culture. Rather, they try to present it as a part of the broader Western European culture and, at the same time, see it as being opposed to the Eastern European culture. On the other hand, Central European liberals rarely reject their own historical heritage as such. They look at it in a more critical way than conservatives and actively seek in it “irrational”, “backward” or “nationalist” elements. However, they usually do not question these elements of the historical heritage, on which the privileged role of the intelligentsia is based. Both sides, in fact, see the intelligentsia as the most legitimate elite of their nations, and each of the camps considers itself the most legitimate heir of the old intelligentsia elite. Both sides, instead of looking critically at the Western core or at the intelligentsia, see their opponent on the other side of the field of power as the main hegemon and the main villain. Moreover, they tend to define opponents’ roles in strongly cultural terms. Thus, the liberals blame the conservatives for a persistent reliance on “irrational” elements of the cultural and historical heritage of national history, which leads to a dangerous revival of nationalism. The conservatives, on the other hand, blame most of the problems, including those that they see in the devaluation, desacralization and marginalization of national cultural and historical heritage, on the liberals. One may emphasize here that these debates are often very context dependent. Rather than dealing with a radical rejection of national cultural and historical heritage or with a glorification of all unique elements of national history, they usually deal with specific issues, events, and figures, the interpretations of which are negotiated on complex scales of
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valuation. As has been mentioned above, such debates are much more radical in zone three, where Western oriented intelligentsia often advocates much more strongly the rejection of major part of the national heritage, in particular its political culture, while the conservatives are more radical in their critique of or even rejection of part of Western values. In contrast to Central European zone one, zone three debates often include open critiques of the West and of the intelligentsia. Such critiques of the intelligentsia present it at best as naïve or at worst as venal and are usually advanced by intellectuals who do not identify themselves with the intelligentsia and its ideals, but rather with some factions of the conservative political class.
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The intelligentsia doxa The hegemony of the intelligentsia and its naturalization
In zone one countries, intelligentsia, as well as the West, are largely immune from large scale critiques in mainstream debates of the fields of power. Thus, as I have proposed, besides the “dependence doxa”, which makes a critical analysis of the relationship between Central Europe (zone one) and the Western core in terms of dependence difficult, I see another important doxa, which considerably complicates a critical analysis of the political situation in the region. I call it the intelligentsia doxa and consider it as being of special relevance in zone one of the region. As I argue, the intelligentsia, which constitutes a specific Central and East European class or strata, can be considered as a dominant group in societies of the region. Poland presents an especially clear case in point in this regard. As I have argued above and more extensively elsewhere (Zarycki, 2009a), intelligentsia’s dominance can be particularly seen in contemporary Poland, where its social status is defined not only in terms of higher education, but also in cultural and moral terms. At the same time, this special status is also related to intelligentsia’s important political and economic functions. Even if intelligentsia’s status is not based on political capital and, moreover, it is formally defined in opposition to economic hierarchies, intelligentsia plays an important role in the legitimization of the status of political and economic elites, and, at the same time, in the legitimization of the dependent position of its country in the hierarchies of the world system. We can probably talk about naturalization of the symbolic domination of the intelligentsia in countries like Poland and Hungary and about its key role in legitimization of political and economic hierarchies. This makes overt criticism of intelligentsia difficult, and, in effect, discourses critical of intelligentsia usually amount to its internal narratives that are restricted to attacks on its particular factions; the latter are presented as illegitimately claiming intelligentsia leadership. There is thus a constant criticism of “fake intelligentsia members” or “first generation intelligentsia members” allegedly contradicting its “true ethos”. One could note that criticism of the intelligentsia, just like that of the role of Western capital in zone one, has been accepted by the mainstream of the field of power only in the early communist period until the end of the Stalinist period, which was characterized by a clear marginalization of both cultural and economic elites by the new political elites. The best example in the case
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of Poland is provided by sociologist Józef Chałasin´ski and his seminal 1946 essay Genealogy of the Polish Intelligentsia (Chałasin´ski, 1946). In his piece he denounced the allegedly destructive role of the old intelligentsia and earlier petty gentry, which he saw as narrow-mined comprador elites. However, criticism of the intelligentsia became more difficult, especially in the post-1968 period, where the intelligentsia-critical communist political elite lost much of its previous status. At the same time, the liberal intelligentsia gradually became a political enemy of the system and, by allying itself with the conservative intelligentsia faction, it successfully legitimized itself as a primary agent of Westernization and modernization of the region’s societies. Even if the intelligentsia ethos was far from central for the communist elite, the authorities were not able to ignore it, and after the end of Stalinism, which could be seen as political-capital-sustained system, they needed a symbolic support of at least part of the liberal elite of the intelligentsia. However, in Poland during the late communist period, the majority of the intelligentsia slowly moved towards the anti-communist opposition and their support became crucial for the wide social movement led by Solidarity. The final political and moral victory of anti-communist forces in zone one countries further reinforced the naturalization of the dominant role of the intelligentsia. At the same time, the later part of the post-communist period brought a split in the former anticommunist camp and emergence of liberal pro-European camps as well as of Euro-skeptic conservative camps. While criticizing the intelligentsia elites of their opponents, both camps subscribe to the cult of the intelligentsia as a “natural” elite of the nation. As mentioned above, the situation is different in zone three, that is, Russia, and in part of zone two, where criticism of the intelligentsia is frequent. We also could note, in effect, the presence of much more critical analyses of Western domination in Russia. These may be linked to the fact that Western actors are lacking symbolic legitimization there, which the intelligentsia provides them in zone one.
Compensatory mechanisms and capitals The privileged role of the intelligentsia in zone one countries (Central Europe), as well as the special role of the political elite in zone three (that is, primarily Russia), could be interpreted within a model, in which the roles of specific types of capital in particular societies would be linked to their positions in the world-system. One of the key elements of my proposal is the notion of compensatory capitals. They would be defined as having a function of compensatory resources of frailer actors in a given system. Compensation would entail, in this context, mostly generation and reproduction of substitute resources in order to enable peripheral social systems, like countries, regions or societies, to have a degree of autonomy higher than their position in the world system would normally allow. There may be several problems linked to this concept. First, one can note that compensatory resources may be seen as having a dual role. Besides
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allowing a certain degree of autonomy, they may be also seen as increasing dependence. By heavily investing in what can be considered “compensatory” resources, peripheral actors may increase the degree of incompatibility of their systems with the wider, dominant structures. Those adapting “compensatory” strategies may be thus seen as both increasing the autonomy of their sub-fields, but, at the same time, deepening their marginality, which may also imply growing dependence. At the same time, the very notion of compensation is relative, as it assumes that there is a certain “normal” hierarchy or composition of a portfolio of capitals. Defining some types of capital as “compensatory” in contrast to others, recognized as “principal” or “dominant”, may be, therefore, seen as an arbitrary act of power, which may heavily depend on “norms” defined by hegemonic actors in the world system. Currently, with American domination in the world system, one can assume that what is typically recognized as “normal” is a capitalist society, which privileges the economic capital as a central asset and imposes its logic on the entire social system. Subordinate to it are cultural capital and social capital; the latter being institutionalized by modern states. The idea of characterizing particular countries’ social structure in terms of hierarchies of capitals has been first proposed in the model of Gil Eyal, Iván Szelényi and Eleanor Townsley. This model was presented in their seminal Making Capitalism Without Capitalist (Eyal et al. 1998). They proposed their scheme also as a tool for analysis of the evolution of Central European societies over the period from the late nineteenth century to the late twentieth century. Thus, as they argued, in the pre-communist period the social hierarchies of these states have been dominated by social capital defined as possessing a traditional honor status, which privileged aristocracy and nobility. In the Stalinist period, it was again the political capital which was at the top of the hierarchy but this time in a completely different form, namely, it was institutionalized as political capital monopolized by communist parties. The fall of communism was accompanied by a gradual decrease in the importance of political capital and by an increase of the role of economic and cultural capitals. At the end of that road, that is, after the fall of communism, economic capital had become one of the key bases of social logic, however, not necessarily the dominant one. As Eyal, Szelényi and Townsley have argued, in the countries of Central Europe, in particular in Hungary and Poland, it was rather the cultural capital, which has become the dominant dimension of the social hierarchy and the key asset of the new/old social elite. During the transition period, as these authors have argued, only those members of the former communist nomenclatura were able to sustain their relatively privileged social status, who besides political capital, have also possessed considerable amounts of cultural capital. On the other hand, in Russia, and in some other states of Eastern Europe, it was the political capital which retained the dominant position, although in newly reconfigured forms and in combination with economic capital. In the Russian case however, both cultural as well as economic capital remained subordinated to the political logic. This contrast between Central Europe, on the one hand, and Russia, on
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the other hand, has been described by Eyal, Szelényi and Townsley as an opposition between “capitalism without capitalists” in Central Europe, that is, zone one as a region that lacks strong bourgeoisie, and “capitalism without capitalism” in Russia, that is, zone three, where the economic elite is relatively affluent, but acts according to a specific, politically defined logic rather than adopting the classic legal logic of Western capitalism. This can be interpreted as a situation in which, on the one hand, cultural capital and broadly defined cultural elite are dominant in the field of power of Central Europe and, on the other hand, political capital and political elite are dominant in Russia. Both types of elite, or their specific factions, may at times acquire considerable assets of economic capital, but it is not a crucial source of their status. In some cases, they may publicly renounce opportunities to gain economic assets in order to emphasize their specific status of “cultural capitalists”, allegedly free of the temptations of the “dirty” economic world (Zarycki, 2009b). This specific construction of the social status of peripheral elite may be linked to one of its important functions, namely, the role of an intermediary in contacts between their own peripheral societies and the core of the world system. Among the authors who noted this role, in particular that of the bourgeoisie in post-colonial settings, was Frantz Fanon (Fanon, 1965). As he has argued, post-colonial states which can be seen as a type of peripheral regions, usually lack fully-fledged economic or financial bourgeoisie, as their financial systems are weak and dependent on the core of the world system. At the same time, cultural capital controlled by the local elites, may be seen as the key asset of peripheral countries. In the context of Central Europe, it is the intelligentsia, which is the dominant actor in the cultural field. The field may attain a considerable degree of autonomy in relation to other fields of peripheral societies, in particular to the economic one, which usually plays a role of the main dimension in the subordination of peripheries. In effect, the elite of such autonomous and relatively privileged cultural field may present itself and, in particular, its assets as key compensatory resources in its country in the context of global competition. A perfect example of such an ideology has been presented by the Polish cinema director Robert Glin´ski who argued that: Films of the distinguished Polish film directors and they themselves through their contacts with their audience since many years prove to the Europeans that Poland is not only a country of car thieves and whores ( … ) What can we offer Europe while joining the EU? Polish films, music, theatre and literature are the only export commodity we have. No one in Germany or France will buy our shoes, cars or milk. But they want to buy films. But only those about our-selves, our problems, rooted in our traditions, telling something important about our corner of Europe. (Glin´ski, 2002: A5)
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Recognition of the role of the cultural elite abroad, in particular in core countries, gives it an additional leverage in the national field of power when it can claim the role of an indispensable middleman in contacts with the core. At the same time, one could point to the fact that emphasis on the cultural capital as a compensatory resource may have an unintended effect of manifestation of weaknesses on the part of a given country or community. Direct references to culture, and especially to a glorious past, presented as compensatory as opposed to primary resources, may signal deficiencies of other resources, in particular, political and economic. Let me quote in this context Alexander Kiossev’s note on the Bulgarian discourse of glorious past. Among all the Slavic peoples it was precisely the Bulgarians who were the most glorious nation – they were the first to crown their kings, they were the first to have an Orthodox patriarch, they were the first to be baptized and they have conquered the greatest territories.’ For a long time we have been used to thinking that the rhetorical strategy of this phrase, as well as, of the entire ‘History’ is quite clear – it attempts to carry out the already mentioned reversal of the binary oppositions and to transform the negative into positive, the ignorance into glorious history, the lack of achievements into presence of honorable figures and great events in the historical memory – the shame and the formlessness into pride and identity. What is rarely mentioned is the fact that under the layer of its conscious rhetoric this text expresses something quite different as well – it reproduces the trauma it is trying to overcome and sublimate. (Kiossev, 1999: 13) The compensatory use of cultural capital in international dimension, in particular when it clearly refers to the past and suffering of the nation, may be problematic as far as it has the ability to improve the status of a given country among the international hierarchies. However, such strategies, even if questionable from the point of view of their impact on the international status of particular nations, undoubtedly reinforce the internal (national) status of cultural elites. The idea of compensation of peripheral weakness in the cultural sphere is one of the key intelligentsia concepts. Intelligentsia, as it usually claims, is able to build a national high culture equal to those of core countries, and in this way, to build a basis for self-confidence among the inhabitants of the periphery. More generally, the intelligentsia builds its identity through its role of a guardian of national culture, which is the essence of national character and is supposed to be compatible with modern Western high cultures. In effect, the intelligentsia members are characterized by a feeling of being torn between the Western world and its own “people”. This internal tension in intelligentsia’s identity could be related to its double legitimization. On the one hand, it aspires to be a representative of the higher, Western civilization in the peripheries, and its task is to “civilize” the natives. On the other hand, it claims to be the most patriotic and loyal defender of its peripheral community against
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any external threats, including those coming from the Western core. Intelligentsia has thus, on the one hand, a tendency to decline any links with the common people of the peripheries, emphasizing its belonging to the European elite and feeling at home in the European core. On the other hand, it tends to present itself as the essence of the nation, in the name of which it suffers and is not afraid to sacrifice everything for the nations interest. It will, when needed, publicly denounce the duplicity of foreign powers and condemn all those oppressing the nation and its people. The identity of intelligentsia is thus clearly characterized by tension between these two roles, both of which are defined in highly moral terms, often colored by ambitions of pastoral status. Such tensions are even more dramatic in the case of Russian intelligentsia, given the much stronger duality of the nation, torn between the ambitions of enjoying a status of a super power, a separate pole in a multipolar world, and the will to be recognized as an equal among the family of great European nations. Boris Uspenski considers that such traits, comparable to those exhibited by Russian intelligentsia, could also historically be found among the German intellectual elite, for whom complexes of inferiority were mixed with nationalistic pride (Uspienski, 2000). In the case of Russian intelligentsia, there is an additional dimension of conflict, which divides the intelligentsia, on the one hand, as a group into two poles, and, on the other hand, internally in terms of duality of identity. It is the attitude towards the Russian or the Soviet state. On the one hand, the state is considered as a source of the country’s strength, prestige and unity, and intelligentsia sees itself its benefactor and servant. On the other hand, the state is often considered as oppressive, brutal, totalitarian, undemocratic and non-civilized, and the intelligentsia sees itself among its main victims and opponents. Thus, Russian intelligentsia is split between, on the one hand, the conservative statists (gossudarstvenniki) who idealize their state and defend its ruthless actions and leaders, and, on the other hand, the pro-Western liberals, some of whom are close to anarchist calls for demise of the Russian state, or, at least, for radical reform and democratization. As mentioned earlier, while the liberal, pro-European Russian elites tend to identify themselves with the intelligentsia ethos, much of the conservatives, including Kremlin loyalists, communists or nationalists, decline the intelligentsia identity and look at it critically. Such dilemmas are much less obvious for Central European (zone one) intelligentsias, since their countries are usually weak, and even radical antiEuropean elites are not able to take over and control power for a prolonged period. In any case, the force of state is usually balanced by strong external influences and sometimes, as in the Polish case, by strong intelligentsia. At the same time, during periods of Russian occupation or Soviet domination, Polish, Lithuanian or Ukrainian intelligentsias were confronted with the Russian/Soviet state, who in some cases became their ally, while in others their opponent, which pushed them into alliances with the state-critical Russian intelligentsia. One can note that in the case of the Russian intelligentsia, the two cleavages mentioned above (pro-vs. anti-Western and pro-vs. anti-state)
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are strongly correlated, since usually the supporters of the strong Russian state tend to be critical of the West, while the liberal critics of the strong state tend to have pro-European and, more broadly, pro-Western views. It may happen, however, that locations of particular individuals in these two dimensions do not coincide. Moreover, the proportions between supporters of these poles are changing with time, and, in effect, correlations may change too. Interestingly, these cleavages are running not only through the intellectual field, but may also be seen as splitting the identities of individual persons, who in one context may manifest more or less liberal and pro-European views, while in another may react in an anti-Western and pro-state way. Thus, the difference between the conservatives of zone one (e.g. Poland) and zone three (e.g. Russia) may be seen in the location of agency in their discourses. While Polish conservatives see the West as a generally positive force, and capitalism as an ideal system, they see the source of most their country’s problems, including the unequal relation with the West, in the actions of “traitors”, that is, of liberals. We can also note the same accusations against liberals in Russia. They are also portrayed as “traitors”, however, given the fact that at least since the late 1990s liberals are clearly marginalized and have no access to government, they cannot be effectively blamed of all of Russia’s problems. Thus the Russian anti-liberal discourse tends to depict the West as an active anti-Russian actor, one aiming at weakening Russia. This discourse of Russian power seems to find a considerable resonance among the wider public in Russia. One of its elements is the criticism of “Russophobia” and the constant search for its manifestations in Western discourses. In contrast, in countries of zone one, like Poland, discourses using the notion of “anti-Polonism” hardly exist in the academic field, while the terms “anti-Polonism” or “Polonophobia” are considered as a part of nationalist vocabulary which is unacceptable in the academic discourse. These terms are, in effect, confined to the discourse of the radical right and its marginalized political publications. We can thus summarize the above analysis as leading to a conclusion that critically oriented studies of Central European elites will have to encounter two fundamental problems. Those problems refer to and have been called here a doxa of dependence and intelligentsia doxa. They make the criticism of both the dependence on the West and the intelligentsia quite difficult.
The intelligentsia in the context of the peripheral field of power Let me refer here to Pierre Bourdieu’s model of “field of cultural production” (Bourdieu, 1993) and remind the reader that he saw it as a site of a double hierarchy. He distinguished its heteronomous pole with the economic gauge of success. Conversely, he pointed to an autonomous pole, which is characterized by a degree of specific consecration generated by the field’s own logic. The more completely a given cultural field fulfills its own logic, as Bourdieu argued, the more it tends to suspend or reverse the dominant, external principle of hierarchization. In other words, the more autonomous a field becomes, the
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more favorable the symbolic power balance is to the most autonomous producers, and the more clear-cut is the division between the field of restricted production and the field of large-scale production. Autonomy of any field, however, as Bourdieu argues, is always relative. Whatever its degree of independence, any subordinate field continues to be affected by the laws of the field which encompasses it, in particular those of economic and political profit (Bourdieu, 1993: 39). The status of the field of culture in peripheral settings is, however, very peculiar. Given its privileged role in the peripheral field of power of zone one (Central Europe), it could be seen as located in its dominating rather than dominated sector. It is thus able to produce its own principles of hierarchization, which can be to some extent imposed on the peripheral fields of economics or politics (for example, the distinction between superior “cultured” businessmen and politicians, and the “subaltern” entrepreneurs and politicians with a peasant or working class origin). This subordination of the fields of economics and politics to the field of culture in a peripheral context is relative, however, primarily because the entire peripheral field of power can be seen as embedded in the global, or in Central European context, WesternEuropean field of power. That external field of power both impacts the entire peripheral field of power and interacts with its specific sub-fields directly. Thus, the global economic field is interacting with the peripheral economic field, the global political field is impacting the peripheral political field, and last but not least, the global cultural field is impacting the peripheral cultural field. All three of them can, in effect, be divided in homologous ways, that is, by the same criterion of attitude towards external domination. This division may assume a form of a center-periphery cleavage within the political field, in the economic field in may appear in a form of conflict between local and global capital, while in the cultural field it usually assumes a form of a cleavage between globally and locally oriented cultural producers. Interactions between the peripheral sub-fields of the field of power may be, therefore, quite complex. A fraction of cultural producers may build their autonomy in relation to the global field of economy, but, at the same, time they may enter into an alliance with the globally oriented pole of the national political field. In most cases we can expect what Bourdieu calls homology, that is, symmetry between orientations of opposing factions on particular sub-fields. Thus, locally oriented cultural producers will most probably enter into coalitions with locally oriented economic and political actors. At the same time, however, the unequal degree of autonomy of particular sub-fields may create interesting effects. In particular, given the above-mentioned phenomenon of relatively greater autonomy of the peripheral cultural field in zone one countries (Central Europe), we can expect its asymmetry in relation to the economic and political fields. In other words, actors in the cultural field, even those in the heterogenous sectors oriented towards the economic logic, may manifest relatively higher independence from the global field of power and from their counterparts in the economic field, from which they would be normally highly dependent. This is the way in which we can explain the phenomenon of Central European intelligentsia’s
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feeling of superiority over the indigenous business class. Therefore, the peripheral field of culture’s status in Central European context may be defined as two-dimensional. On one level, it guarantees a relative autonomy of the entire peripheral (in particular national) field of power. It is thus instrumental for locally oriented actors on the political and economic fields. At the same time, however, the peripheral field of culture may be seen as acting in service of the global field of power. In other words, it may be also used by global forces to gain legitimization for their political and economic penetration of the peripheries. This duality of function of the peripheral field of culture may be seen as a source of its relative autonomy, as it allows its actors to constantly switch between global and local games simultaneously using resources gained at different levels. In particular, this allows them to use global cultural capital (that is, based on international recognition) in local (e.g. national- or regionallevel) games as well as the other way around, that is, to use their locally generated cultural resources in global games. The peripheral cultural field can be thus seen as an arena of confrontation between local and global forces as well as of confrontation between global elites, national cultural elites and interests of local dominated groups. Similar processes are taking place at other peripheral fields, however, given their restricted autonomy, it is usually more difficult, even for their more privileged actors, to play more complex games based on switching assets and roles between different dimensions of the spatial organization. One can note that typical strategies of the elites of peripheral sub-fields, in particular those of the field of culture, include playing the role of representatives of the global field of power in a given peripheral sub-field, or the opposite strategy of playing the role of representatives of the national field of power in the global sub-field. The first strategy, typically assumed by liberal globally oriented factions of elite, involves some degree of naturalization of the global hierarchies of culture and of universalization of Western canons. In this way, the center-periphery dependences are blurred, while the internal national cleavage between those globally and locally oriented may be presented as a rift between open-mined modernizers and backward nationalist. The other strategy involves more or less open contestation of the global core’s domination. However, in case the globally oriented camp enjoys the dominant position, as is the case in many of the Central European states, the confrontation is again rescaled into a national level and presented as an internal rift between cosmopolitan traitors and brave patriots. In situations, where the globally oriented liberal camp is in clearly marginalized position, as in zone three, blurring of the rift between the conservative cultural elite and the masses may appear. In such cases, the cultural elite, usually in alliance with the political conservative elite, presents itself as a defender of national interests, but at the same time it universalizes its own ideology as the “true” national ideology. Returning to the notion of compensatory capital, we can argue that both cultural capital in Central Europe as well as political capital in Russia or Belarus can be seen as compensatory capitals allowing the elites of these states to retain relative autonomy from the Western core. This may be possible because
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both cultural capital in Central Europe as well as political capital in Russia can be seen as enjoying their own relatively autonomous sub-fields in respective countries. At the same time, the autonomy of the economic fields in these states is much lower. Economic fields of Central European countries (zone one) are strongly dependent on the Western economic core, while in Russia (zone there), the economic field, although much less dependent on the Western system, is strongly dependent on the national political system dominated by the Kremlin. In the same way, the autonomy of cultural fields is restricted in Russia or Belarus, in particular when compared with countries of Central Europe, where the intelligentsia elite may be seen as a strong and independent actor. In contrast, the political fields of Central European countries are relatively dependent, both on the Western core, which became well visible after the EU enlargement, as well as on other actors, particularly on the intelligentsia elite, which largely controls the cultural field. At the same time, the political fields of Central Europe are relatively weak because of the weakness of their states and of their political elites. This is very much in contrast to Russia which has a strong power elite. The latter is an heir of the communist nomenclatura—a group which managed to subordinate other elites and was able to reproduce itself relatively effectively, although only a part of its communist period personnel managed to maintain its privileged status after the fall of communism. In any case, the Russian political class may be also seen as a “compensatory” elite in a similar fashion to the way intelligentsia may be seen as a compensatory elite in Central Europe. This is particularly visible in the ideology of Vladimir Putin and its political camp, who often suggest that without their firm grip on power, the Russian state would collapse and become an easy prey for Western capitalists and states. Therefore, when looking from the inside of the peripheral states, compensatory capitals can be seen not so much as an additional asset of domination, which they are when seen in broader perspective, but as their primary tools. One of the aspects of their particular role in the peripheries is that in a long-term perspective they are the most effective, that is, stable carriers of privileged social status for the elite. In other words, elites of peripheral states are able to reproduce themselves much more effectively by relying on transfer of such compensatory resources as opposed to on the classic asset of the Western elites, that is, the economic capital. Economic capital being the key dimension of reproduction of elites in core Western countries, appears to be a much more volatile asset in the peripheries. The entire region of Central and Eastern Europe, as many other peripheries, is regularly shaken by dramatic economic and political crises, which usually deprive major parts of the population of their economic assets and often lead to radical changes in the political elite. In Central Europe cultural capital appears to be the most stable dimension of status transmission, one relatively resistant to political and economic shocks. This turns the broadly defined intelligentsia into the key elite of Central European countries. In different periods, particular factions of the intelligentsia also appear to be able to acquire considerable amounts of other types of capital,
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but their primary resource, one which is most scrupulously transmitted to subsequent generations, is the cultural capital. We can thus talk about the dual role of compensatory capitals. They may be seen as dimensions of stratification independent from the economic dimension. In other words, peripheral elite’s status is defined in terms of compensatory capitals rather than in terms of economic capitals, which may play at least a secondary role. At the same time, compensatory capitals become key assets in the periphery’s relations with the center and other outside actors. Thus, they may be seen as compensating, but at the same time, deepening the economic dependence of peripheries on the center. We could, therefore, talk about a basic contrast between classic Western societies, which have their social hierarchies based on the dominance of economic capital, and two basic types of peripheral societies in the east: first, those, based on the central role of cultural capital in Central Europe, that is, zone 1, and second, those, based on political capital in states such as Russia or Kazakhstan (zone 3). This does not mean that political or cultural capitals are not of importance in typical core societies. However, as Bourdieu suggested, on the overall national level cultural capital is a secondary resource reinforcing social position of elites, which usually form their privileged status on the basis of economic capital. In such a perspective, intellectual elites in France, while being a part of the field of power, are relegated to a subordinated position in that otherwise dominant universe. This is why they are called by Bourdieu junior partners in exploitation. In particular, the intellectuals in the Western fields of power are in clearly dominated positions. In Central European peripheries, when looking from an internal point of view, they may be seen as often occupying dominant positions. From a wider, international perspective, they are, however, also in a dominated position, given their subordinate location in relation of the global, or Western European field of power. Let me return now to zone one of the region, that is, Central Europe. While the economic elite of zone three is strongly dependent on the national political elite as the fate of the Russian oligarch Mikhail Khodorkovski testifies best, in zone one such dependencies appear only occasionally and, in general, are rather weak. This can be seen as a result of the weakness of Central European states and of their dependence both on Western political and economic structures, as well as on local intelligentsia elite, which provides crucial legitimization of the political power in the region. Given its privileged position, the intelligentsia may be seen as an important ally of the state’s political elite. In many instances, in the post-communist period, it would be problematic to say that the intelligentsia is serving the political elite, since its numerous representatives simply often take positions in the political establishment themselves. This is a much less common phenomenon in zone three. The representatives of the intelligentsia are also willingly accepting positions in the business sector, in particular, taking on managerial roles in Western owned companies controlling a dominant part of Central European economies. In this way, the intelligentsia is assuming a clear middleman function between the
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Western European core and its periphery. This role may be related to the wellknown label of “comprador class”. Interestingly, however, such an interpretation of intelligentsia’s involvement in the Western controlled business sector is not common in the region. It is rather from the perspective of Western based scholars such as Jan Drahokoupil, that such an interpretation appears. Drahokoupil proposed a notion of a “comprador service sector” in Central Europe and wrote about its “linking” functions. As Drahokoupil argues, the comprador service sector helps to translate the structural power of transnational capital into tactical forms of power in the countries of Central Europe (Drahokoupil, 2008). In fact, we also have to acknowledge the ability of the comprador service sector to influence the political institutions of Central European countries, in particular, by lobbying for legal solutions that are most beneficial for foreign, that is, mostly Western capital. Thus, the “comprador” status may be linked to functions of the intelligentsia in several dimensions, including political, economic and cultural. The political dimension was clearly present in critical discourses of the communist period, when members of the intelligentsia loyal to the communist government, were seen as servants of the Kremlin. Currently, the economic dimension seems most obvious, while, at the same time, being the least publicly criticized. One of the reasons for this may lay in the weakness of local economic elites, or, in general, in the weakness of local economic and political capital. The only dimension of the middleman role, in which intelligentsia’s involvement happens to be more regularly criticized, is the cultural dimension. This happens particularly when the conservative intelligentsia elites accuse their liberal counterparts of complicity in Westernization, secularization and the spread of “immoral” and “cosmopolitan” values in their countries. Occasionally, the “comprador” roles in the political dimension are criticized by the conservatives, however, the economic dimension is almost fully naturalized. This is probably because such involvement of the intelligentsia is linked to the two above mentioned doxas of zone one, namely, the dependence doxa and the intelligentsia doxa. The invisibility of Central Europe’s dependence on the Western core, especially in the economic dimension, and the invisibility of the dominant role of the intelligentsia in the region, allow the “comprador service sector” to present itself as a “natural” elite leading the processes of the nation’s modernization and European integration (that is, narrowing the East–West gap). What is important in this context, is that the nature of intelligentsia’s involvement in the legitimization of Western domination over the region should not be confined to a single dimension solely as that domination itself, just as intelligentsia’s domination over its own societies, is multidimensional. All these roles of intermediaries in the economic, political and cultural dimension, may in some cases appear as relatively distinct but, in general, they are highly related and, as all forms of domination, mutually reinforcing each other. Thus for example, the clear economic and political advantages of the Western core and its institutions, for which a part of the liberal intelligentsia elite works, may be seen as assets that increase the performative power of intelligentsia discourses. On the other hand, these discourses
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themselves play important role in legitimization of economic and political interests. The group that Janine Wedel, an American anthropologist, labeled “trans-actors” (Wedel, 1998), is a specific type of intermediary between the West and Eastern Europe (zone three). Their case is interesting, among other reasons, because it shows how economic, political and cultural capital may be attained by a synergy in the process of imposition of the Western mechanism of structural control over the region. The economic capital oriented elite of the intelligentsia, in particular if it plays a role of managerial assistance to foreign capital, will tend to be strongly oriented towards the pro-European pole of the main axis of the peripheral political scene. Its opponents cannot be, however, easily identified in terms of other types of capital, on the basis of which they would build their position. The Western-skeptic elite may also strongly rely on cultural and economic capitals, however, it will tend to base its assets in locally-oriented sectors of each respective field. A good example of such configuration of power relations in a regional field of power, has been given by Deborah Cahalen Schneider in her study of the . Zywiec region in Poland, where a strong local highlander (Góral) identity may be found (Schneider, 2006). Schneider had identified two competing regional elites, which could be characterized as oriented respectively towards cultural or economic capital, but foremostly as divergent in their orientations towards global and regional scales. Schneider found that economic elite’s interests were intertwined with global capital, while “old elite had both economic power as small-scale capitalists and cultural capital as authority figures within the Góral ethnicity” (Schneider, 2006: 169). The new economic elite, or the “neocapitalists”, as Schneider called them, claimed that “they are the people who best understand how to operate in the global capitalist system, and thus their vision of the community’s future is the best” (Schneider, 2006: 170). The neocapitalists presented themselves as “the people who understand the modern world, and who will act as mediators between the outside . (the national level and the global political-economic system) and the local Zywiec community”. Schneider noted that neocapitalists present themselves as experts in modernization, which they identify with capitalism and democracy. However, even these neocapitalists who rely on the idea of modernity, employ local identity themes in their community strategies. This reinforces their legitimacy and enhances their marketing of the local culture to outsiders. Schneider agues, however, that for neocapitalists, the advantages of emphasizing Góral identity are few. The traditional regional identity remains a critical point of conflict between them and the prewar elite. As she maintains: Neocapitalists have also attempted to cast Góral identity as a nostalgic remnant of the past, and themselves as the best local authorities in the new, modern world. They do so to undermine the authority of the prewar elite, the owners of the small capitalist businesses. The economic base of this class has reemerged in the postsocialist era because their prewar property has been returned to them. This prewar elite class benefits from ethnic
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re-entrenchment in a traditionalist vein: their authority as. community leaders flows from their position as cultural elites within Zywiec Góral community. If prewar elite strategy of community insularity is followed, their businesses benefit most from restricting the penetration of global capital, because they will experience less competition. This position of local authority is contested by the neocapitalists, whose new class position is based on their middleman position between international capital and the community. If they are able to promote their strategy of community integration into the global economic system, they will benefit from their continued control over local politics and thus local community resources, as well as resources . that they are able to obtain from international business investing in Zywiec. The neocapitalists are attempting to folklorize the ethnic identity and thus remove it from contemporary life, to buttress the idea that the community is entering the modern era and must have appropriately ‘modern’ community leaders. (Schneider, 2006: 171–72) Thus, as the above presented example proves, the key split in the peripheral elites cannot be easily reduced to an opposition between economic and cultural capital, since these forms of capital are important to all players in peripheral fields. A much more important aspect of the key cleavage in a peripheral field of power is the orientation towards, respectively, global capital and the local economic field, which also implies different uses of local cultural capital. For both factions of the elite, the local cultural capital is an important source of legitimization. However, for the traditional elite its functions are essential, while for the globally oriented elite its functions are more pragmatic. In effect, locally-oriented elites, both at regional and national level, may tend to present globally oriented elites as “unpatriotic”, cosmopolitan and not loyal enough to the indigenous culture, considered as being a central asset of the regional or national community. At the same time, globally (Western) oriented elites may be trying to devaluate local forms of cultural capital, in particular those, considered most sacred and valuable by their traditional opponents in the field of power. These tendencies may assume forms of orientalization of a country’s own peripheral communities mentioned above. Merje Kuus noticed that among the more specific aims which such orientalization, practiced by Central European globally oriented intelligentsia, may serve, is the monopolization of its contacts with the West, in particular with representatives of Western elites (Kuus, 2004a). Kuus pointed to the question of the direct contacts between liberal elites and Western experts on the region, which, especially in the first decade of postcommunist transformation, played an important role in the construction of Western knowledge about the region and allowed to maintain the special status of the intelligentsia. Kuus emphasized the role of the so-called local “dream teams” and that of the reliance of Western experts on a handful of local partners, presented as reformists and experts who could be seen as good
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examples of intelligentsia members. They were building their status in the eyes of Westerners by adopting a Western dress-code, manners and a fluent use of Western rhetoric. Kuus reflected on the mechanisms of these interactions and pointed to the importance of “rituals of listening” during which, as Janine Wedel called them, “naïve but self-assured Westerners” (Wedel, 1998: 3), were meeting their interlocutors and storytellers. Kuus’ studies confirm that it was a specific type of cultural capital, which was at the heart of this specific group of intelligentsia’s success. She has also studied the role of leading Central European politicians with strong intellectual background, whom she called “master shamans and story-tellers of geopolitics” and “cultural politicians” (Kuus, 2007b). Their cultural capital, which makes certain actions politically legitimate is, according to Kuus, an often overlooked resource of moral authority (Kuus, 2007b). “Cultural politicians” were identified by Kuus as enjoying the ability to articulate Central European countries’ identity and interests in an “authentic manner”, to present themselves as a “progressive force, speaking truth to the power”. One, however, has to be aware, as Kuus points out, that their uses of some elements of Western rhetoric may be seen as a highly selective and strategic appropriation. By saying what Western experts want to hear, they are able to influence Western images of the region in ways most beneficial to them. One has to also recognize that their privileged access to Western expert milieus makes other voices marginalized. Moreover, the groups, excluded from these conversations, may be portrayed in them not necessarily in the most positive light. As József Böröcz argues, such acts of distancing oneself from the native population and its orientalization serve the purpose of building credentials in “Westernness”, which can be useful when addressing both the external and the internal public (Böröcz, 2000). These phenomena seem similar to what Edward Said had been observing in the milieu of Middle-Eastern academics who, as he argued, also tend to disregard their own people. Atilla Melegh contended that orientalism became an ideology of “Central-Eastern European elites returning to power”. As he argued, it gives legitimacy to local elites, both liberals and former communists, who may effectively play roles of experts in their region, advising their Western partners on methods of taming local nationalists and economic discontent. Some critics argue that the intelligentsia elite, by assuming such roles, inevitably and largely subconsciously reproduces Western orientalism towards the countries of Central and Eastern Europe. Thus, as the intelligentsia members transfer the symbolic violence of the European core to the periphery, they naturalize it, using their own cultural capital. What used to be originally an aspect of wider international structures of dependence, becomes translated into an internal conflict between globally and locally oriented elites of the field of power and its followers. At the same time, the complex nature of the forces of international dependence is largely reduced to the cultural dimension, which becomes the key arena of internal tensions. Merje Kuus analyzed discourses, related to the expansion of the European Union into Central Europe, and pointed to the mechanisms, by which the structural violence of the European core has
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been transferred by the intelligentsia to lower levels in their countries. As Kuus argued, in particular the so-called Europeization process of the region could be seen as an instance of examination in Foucaultian sense of the term. In such perspective, globally oriented intelligentsia may be seen as playing a role of a local proxy examiner, or it can take a role of a friendly promoter/ teacher. In other words, we could see this mechanism as a case of transposition of the frontier between the “Western” core and the “Eastern” periphery of “Central Europe”, from the physical border between countries like Poland and Germany or Austria and Hungary, to the inside of zone one countries. Their primary example could be seen in “class orientalism”, identified in Poland by Michał Buchowski (Buchowski, 2006), as well as in different types of “internal colonialism”. The use of that notion is a reference to Michael Hechter’s book Internal Colonialism – The Celtic Fringe in British National Development (Hechter, 1975). These multi-level structures of spatial organization allow for a number of different alliances to be made between actors located on different levels of the world system. As suggested above, the basic types of strategies include the peripheral cultural elite’s alliance with the global field of power, or an association with local subordinate groups. The first type of strategy usually implies an assumption of more or less overtly orientalistic attitudes towards locally dominated actors. It can include deprecation of locally oriented sectors of the field of culture. Interestingly, there can be two distinct critical views on this strategy. In case we recognize the globally oriented elites’ claims to be a part of the symbolic core, we can look at their discourses as a reproduction of orientalism towards those, located on the lower and more eastern rungs of the European hierarchy. On the other hand, when we do not recognize the internal symbolic boundary between liberal Euro-enthusiastic and conservative Euro-skeptic factions of elites as a valid dive between east and west, then the globally oriented liberals’ strategy may be criticized as representing a case of “self-orientalism” or as being a manifestation of the peripheral elite’s “complex of inferiority”. A good example of such critique has been offered by the British historian Norman Davies, who argued that: unfortunately, one has to admit that many East Europeans, especially the intelligentsia, have often adapted Western prejudices for themselves. It has long been the fashion for Poles, Czech, Hungarians and Romanians to look to Paris, London, Berlin or New York for their models of excellence whilst despising or ignoring their neighbors in the east. Here again the west was automatically equated with the best. (Davies, 2006: 38) Alexander Kiossev has presented an extended reflection on the notion of “self-colonization” in reference to peripheral cultural fields. In his view, the attitudes of Central and East European intelligentsia towards the West lack pragmatism, and any degree of critical detachment from or opposition to
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Western values. These values are characterized by uncritical admiration implying deprecation of local cultures. Kiossev was asking in particular: how could we explain the fact that these peculiar cultures lack not only any resistance against colonization through Western symbolic patterns, any resistance to the symbol-invasion of the Alien (resistance so inevitable in every violent colonization – even the fatalistic North American Indians resisted the Spanish conquistadors to a certain extent), but they adopt the alien models with love, ardor and desire? How could we also explain the fact that they display a certain unaccountable naivety: they not only welcome the expanding universalistic ideology of the foreigners, which makes them marginal and undeveloped, but they fall in love with it as well? ( … ) How is this unexplainable childish mistake possible – to confuse the West with God? (Kiossev, 1999: 2–3) The strategy of orientalization of the internal other, used by the liberal elites, may be seen as an attempt to compensate for its own orientalization by Western discourses. It may be also seen as an attempt to move oneself closer towards the West, to reinforce one’s own “Westernness” by contrasting it with the Eastness of internal significant others. Such acts, if considered successful, can be interpreted by the liberal sector of the field of power and its followers as acts of “self-inclusion” into the Western core. However, in case we see them as ineffective, they may appear as acts of “self-exclusion” from the Western symbolic community, since the orientalism, directed towards the supposed others, will be read as self-orientalism, directed towards one’s own peripheral society. They may also be inscribed in several levels of center-periphery hierarchies. Thus, Russian liberal intellectuals may “self-orientalize” Russian people also for the use of Central-European intellectuals. Maxim Waldstein, criticizing Ryszard Kapus´cin´ski, argued, for example, that the famous Polish journalist took the “self-Orientalising discourses of his Soviet informants for granted because they fit his project of de-Orientalising Central Europe, i.e. showing it as civil, civilized, and European” (Waldstein, 2002: 495). Thus, let me emphasize in this place that the above sketched model of . center-periphery relations, as it was clearly visible in the case of the Zywiec region, analyzed by Schneider, is applicable on several different levels of spatial organization. One can mention in this context the phenomenon of what some authors called fractal, nested or nesting orientalism and self-orientalism (Straughn, 2005; Coakley, 2008; Bakic-Hayden, 1995). One could provide an unlimited number of examples of center-periphery relations on different levels, which reproduce different types of orientalizing gaze. They include global, continental, national, regional and local dependencies. In most cases, these levels appear to be interrelated and dependencies on lower levels generally tend to reproduce patterns of higher levels. Poland provides several such examples including the internal geography of some regions (e.g. Wielkopolska
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or Greater Poland, the eastern part of which is considered not to be fully belonging to it due to the heritage of Russian occupation) and cities, with Warsaw as a primary example. One can note that such a nested structure of orientalism may make someone a victim of orientalism in one aspect, while the same person may appear as a perpetrator in another dimension. Let me propose here a distinction between three dimensions of that fractal orientalism, used by peripheral elites. First is the social dimension, a non-spatial orientalization in terms of moving it down the cultural hierarchy of a given society. A good example of such a process is provided by a critical study by Michał Buchowski (Buchowski, 2006), who showed how liberal intelligentsia members orientalize so-called “transition losers”. Numerous studies by József Böröcz, in particular his critiques of Piotr Sztompka’s notion of “civilizational incompetence”, also provide such examples (Böröcz, 2000). Second is the regional level, which would refer to orientalization in terms of reproducing it in reference to other regions. A good example is what Alexander Etkind considered to be the Russian variant of internal colonization (Etkind, 2003). The third level would be geopolitical, which would amount to its reproduction in reference to states considered as being more eastern. My own study of the Polish orientalization of Russia (Zarycki, 2004) could exemplify this mechanism. Of course, such distinctions may be seen as arbitrary. There was, in fact, a clear regional dimension in Michał Buchowski’s analysis of the internal colonialism in Poland (Buchowski, 2006) as he specifically diagnosed it in discourses dealing with regions that are characterized by a high concentration of former state farms. Their inhabitants, in Buchowski’s view, were stigmatized by the liberal discourse of contemporary Polish social science and journalism. In a similar way, the “internal” colonialism of the elites toward regions, inhabited by lower social classes that are perceived as culturally alien, has been recognized as having both spatial as well as social dimensions. Peripheries, as they are seen in this critical approach, appear as being “oriental” irrespective of their actual geographic location. In fact, they don’t even have to be located east of the center in which the local elite is concentrated. Buchowski defined three basic dimensions of domination in the Polish space that have a post-colonial aspect. They are as follows: the urban versus rural axis, the educated versus uneducated axis, and the winners versus losers of the transformation axis. Using case studies of texts by Jan Winiecki and Piotr Sztompka (in particular Sztompka, 1993), both renowned Polish academics, Buchowski reconstructed orientalist binary oppositions of the liberal academic-expert discourse. His list includes the following fundamental contrasts: Homo Sovieticus versus Homo Westernicus, anti-intellectualism versus intellectualism, aversion to elites versus respect for elites, double standards for private and public life versus unified standards for any sphere of life, acceptance of meager performance versus contempt for meager performance. These schemes are, in his view, imposed as dominating interpretations on the three above mentioned divisions in Polish society. Buchowski also argues that:
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In another part of the same article Buchowski reconstructs the basic elements of the civilizational project he calls “enlighten despotism”: Individuals have to be disciplined and educated, they must internalize a certain, in this case capitalist, set of values in order to become ‘normal.’ In the socialist past they dropped out of any reasonable control and ‘landed in a moral vacuum.’ Demoralized, corrupted and orphaned victims, not of current practices but of the past, have to learn new standards and change their mentality in order to join the progressive part of humanity. If they cannot do it, they remain ‘Easterners’ and should indict themselves for being alienated. Any failure is ascribed to their ‘oriental nature’. (Buchowski, 2006: 475) One can note that the above interpretations were originally based on studies of a specific type of discourse by the Polish elite, which was primarily referring to regions of high concentration of state farms in the communist period, where post-communist parties enjoyed considerable electoral support after the fall of the system. It seems, however, that several elements of this world-view can also be found in many discourses on Eastern Poland, particularly in recent years, when the region become a clear stronghold of the Euro-skeptic camp in terms of electoral geography. In the latter case, the main weaknesses of the local population are seen not so much as a supposed post-communist mental legacy, but rather as a religious conservatism and a moral traditionalism. The key stigma, often attributed to the population of the region by the globally oriented elite, is the above mentioned post-communist legacy, best exemplified by the notion of Homo Sovieticus. Hence—the continuing need to purify the region of remnants of communism by performing exorcisms which boil down to adopting Western cultural patterns. Such mechanisms in the region can be seen as an element of constant symbolic pressure; a situation in which the European credentials of the inhabitants of Central and Eastern
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Europe are tested day after day. A key element of this scheme, as emphasized by Kuus, is not only an assumption of Western superiority from the perspective of a development of civilization, but also that of the moral superiority of the West. This aspect of the symbolic violence of the West has been also emphasized by Buchowski, who points to the crucial role of the notion of “moral vacuum” used in reference to Poland’s internal peripheries. In a similar vein, Dorota Masłowska (Masłowska, 2005), a Polish writer of the younger generation, criticized the attitude towards their own country which many Polish intellectuals assume when visiting Western Europe. She summarized it in a statement “O my Good, how terrible those Poles are, but fortunately I am normal so I came here to cuddle up to you”. Katarzyna Baran´ska and Claudia Snochowska-Gonzalez (Baran´ska and Snochowska-Gonzalez, 2008: 129), have argued that Masłowska in her famous novel Wojna polsko-ruska or Snow White and Russian Red (Masłowska, 2005), in which a figure of a mythical Russian (Rusek) appears, presents a metaphor of the Polish subconscious desire to escape from the “east”. As Baran´ska and Snochowska-Gonzalez suggested, the Polish–Russian confrontation, which Masłowska discusses, is a manifestation of a subconscious self-orientalization of the popular Polish identity. The Russian, with whom the protagonist in Masłowska’s novel is fighting, is an internal alter-ego of the Polish soul which dreams about selfpurification by means of getting rid of its eastern identity. Maria Janion who presented a similar interpretation of Masłowska’s novel, advanced also a broader thesis regarding the historical character of stereotypes related to Slavs’ inferiority, which stereotypes, as she argued, were originally produced mostly in Germany and, later, were internalized by Slavic nations themselves (Janion, 2006). We could probably relate the problem of what some call self-orientalism of Central and Eastern European elites to the above mentioned common feeling of shame of belonging to the realm of Eastern Europe or the Slavic world. Anna Horolets showed how the theme of shame was present in discourses related to the expansion of the European Union to the east (Horolets, 2006b). Horolets documented examples of liberal Euro-enthusiastic manifestations about being ‘ashamed’ of the Polish right wing. These manifestations demonstrated intolerance to right-wingers and treated them as “a backwater” or “reactionaries” who discredit the entire nation. At the same time, she has also argued: it is also intriguing to accentuate the ritual function of [the Euro-enthusiastic] texts. By referring to ‘shame’ and marginalising ‘Polish uncivilised Self ’ these texts aim at creating a symbolic community with Europe. Despite the fact that this community is established at a cost of exclusion of less civilised, lucky or clever countrymen, the very possibility of such supranational community seem rather intriguing. The exclusion of the part of the Poles from this imaginary community is the price to pay for the quick ‘civilisational leap’. (Horolets, 2006a: 70)
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Liberal narratives saw accession of Central European states as a particular mean of their Europeization, which would reduce the feeling of shame, from which higher classes, or more precisely those, leaning towards Euro-enthusiastic poles of the region’s political spectrum, constantly suffer. What is important here, is that although the feeling of shame results from an awareness of the country’s low status in the Western eye, the objectivity of that Western perception is not questioned, challenged or criticized. Thus, shame haunting Central and Eastern European elites, almost always results in assumption of strategy of identification with the West and in renouncing links with the “masses”. In effect, the liberal Central European elites present themselves as suffering from being identified with and belonging to the same nation of “peasants and workers”, who are not able to attain intelligentsia status. At the same time, Euro-skeptic conservative elites may be, of course, ashamed of their fellow ‘liberal elites’ and, moreover, try to interpret the center-periphery cleavage in terms of class logic. That is, in their view, the “cosmopolitan” and “relativist” slogans of the liberals, who should be seen as “fake intelligentsia”, are being followed by naïve masses of weakly educated urbanites, who may claim to belong to the middle class, but should be seen as mostly first generation urban dwellers suffering from a lack of clear national identity and from a strong inferiority complex. Returning to the liberal pro-European standpoint, the supporters of Euroskeptic forces imagined as lower classes that usually share the same language with the elites, but do not share the elites’ values, are usually portrayed as not yet belonging to Europe, or not yet fully Western European. The elites, in particular their liberal pro-Western sectors, usually depict themselves as being part of the West, but being forced to co-exist in the same state, on the same territory with the “masses” who are, in fact, not yet in Europe. The non-European character of the Euro-skeptic camp is seen in the latter’s general backwardness and conservatism, demonstrated sometimes by exhibiting more radical tendencies including nationalism, authoritarian proclivities, laziness, post-communist mentality and several others. These descriptions of backward masses often involve clear oriental references, in particular, an attribution of negative traits to different types of “eastern” influences and heritages, such as Soviet, Russian, Byzantine or even Asian. An important dimension of this discourse is the question of taste. The conservatively oriented electorate is usually present in liberal discourses as having bad, that is, non-European taste. An interesting case study of the role of taste in liberal elites’ symbolic discourses is the field of popular music. In several Central and East European countries we can encounter local genres of popular music with followers almost exclusively among lower social ranks. The liberal elites not only denounce these genres, considering them as quintessentially tasteless and non-European, but also declare their popularity among the “masses” as a source of their own shame. As one may assume, from the liberal Euro-enthusiastic point of view, the very fact of the popularity of these local low-brow genres may result in stigmatization of their entire countries in Western eyes. In the Balkans, the so-called “Turbo folk” is
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often presented as a barbarian emotional music created under Turkish influences. Its broadcasting is mainly confined to private TV channels and related to Euro-skeptic and nationalist orientation. In Poland its counterpart is the so-called “disco-polo”. This low-brow genre is practically absent from public and even most mainstream private broadcasting. It is being developed mostly on a local level and spreads through the internet and networks of small broadcasters, companies, clubs and regional bands. At the same time, its popularity in eastern, that is, more rural Poland is quite clear and may be related to Russian or, more generally, eastern influences. Many disco-polo songs are in fact melodies adopted from Russian or Ukrainian popular music, or composed under a strong influence from east Slavic folk music. Disco-polo is thus, on the one hand, seen as very “Polish” or even nationalistic. On the other hand, part of the conservative right is denouncing it on a completely opposite ground, namely, as an element of a “hidden Russification of Poland”. We can thus see two opposite ways of orientalization of “disco-polo”. On the one hand, it is orientalized by the liberals, who see it through the prism of its lower class following as an essence of bad taste and, occasionally, as a manifestation of nationalism. On the other hand, it is orientalized by the conservatives, who are aware of the hidden eastern inspiration of much of the disco-polo composers, and see it as a dangerous form of an invisible expansion of the “backward” Russian popular culture in Poland. In any case, disco-polo is commonly considered as a source of shame for Poland, especially among broadly defined intelligentsia ranks. As my earlier survey of Warsaw students proved, almost no student, aspiring to an intelligentsia identity, would admit any interest in this genre (Zarycki, 2003). Michał Buchowski shows that these strategies of distinction and perception of the social structure are not only dominant among the Polish intelligentsia but also among the broader elite, including the elite of the economic sub-field (Buchowski, 2006). Buchowski has, for example, interviewed a relatively successful entrepreneur, living in the suburbs of Poznan´. Here is what he had to say about his fellow countrymen living in the Polish countryside: In the Polish nation, Homo Sovieticus is deeply rooted … Look at the last election result [the presidential elections in 1995] that are the effect of this. There is still a disco-polo Poland [a contemporary popular music style regarded as plebeian and typical of rural taste]. This is still a Poland of people lost, confined to state farms, in small-town state enterprises, of people who don’t see any future and rapidly lost their means of subsistence. They feel forlorn and don’t have a ‘gene’ for creating, for looking for something different, for seeking a new road. (An entrepreneur in Swarze¸dz; Buchowski, 2006: 473) A similar example could be quoted from an interesting study conducted by Dutch scholar Jeroen Moes on young Poles’ discourses during the brief tenure of a conservative government in Poland (Moes, 2008). He clearly identified
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what could be called a discourse of shame, related to the constant concern of globally oriented actors about the ways in which the Western core perceives their countries. As Moes reported for his informants: ‘Europe’ clearly was a very important issue in the political debate surrounding these elections. Most young people that I discussed the topic with, almost immediately started to ask questions about how people in the Netherlands see Poland following the actions of their “stupid politicians”. Alternatively, they started to offer apologies for the behaviour of their political representatives. In both cases, they were specifically referring to the 2005–7 government of ‘the twins’ (PiS). This party was very unpopular with most if not all of my youthful informants, and many therefore saw these elections as Poland’s opportunity to rid itself of these ill-advised ‘chumps’. I regularly witnessed them trying to convince each other to go and vote, often assuming that the other would not vote for PiS. (Moes, 2008) József Böröcz presented a case study with a similar centrality of concern with Western perception of globally oriented sectors in Central European societies. This case study was, however, taken from the upper rather than the bottom ladder of the social space as illustrated by the analysis of an open letter by Hungarian liberal intellectuals to the prime minister of France. The authors of the letter, written in defense of Hungarian Roma, according to Böröcz: act as if they were (1) not citizens of Hungary but (2) French citoyens—acts that are misrepresentations of reality on both counts. In essence, the Letter is an effort to pull its signatories out of what they see as the misery of Hungary (eastern Europe, etc.) without pulling the rest of Hungary (eastern Europe, etc.) along with them. Its signatories imagine themselves as being already, in a perfectly simulated and hyper-real way, in ‘Europe,’ speaking to the French (‘European’) state about the Hungary they have left behind. (Böröcz, 2006: 132) One could note that the similarly ambiguous question, related to the issue of assessment of Central and East European “backwardness”, often involves declarations of “shame” on the part of liberal elites. It is the problem of informal social networks, in particular those, which may be seen as corrupt or having aspects of nepotism. Part of the negative images of the region in this respect may be seen as produced by mechanisms similar to those, which reinforce the perception of its visions as being tormented by the particular strength of nationalism and the overarching role of culture. When looking at mechanisms that make nationalism partly naturalized in core Western countries, we could notice similar mechanisms of naturalization of social networks, which are able to present themselves as rational and modern associations of actors rather than informal, arbitrary and possibly corrupt social webs. In
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both cases strong institutions are able to assign the respective social assets a “rational” character. Just as culture in core areas is no longer an “irrational” and “emotional” “ethnic” culture but rather it attains forms of cultural competence, mastery of which is indispensable for a full membership in modern society, similarly, membership in informal groups may get naturalized in the center. Thus, just as the culture of the center appears much more “rational” than that of the peripheries, social networks, including those of informal character, seem to appear much more rational in the center than in the peripheries. As József Böröcz argued in his study, similar forms of what is generally considered to be “social capital” may obtain radically different labels in the Western center as opposed to in Central and Eastern European peripheries (Böröcz, 2000). They can be respectively called “informal networking” and “micro-politics of cliques”. In Hungary Böröcz identified self-orientalist discourses which describe non-formal networks in their own countries with “Western and aristocratic disdain”. As Böröcz argues, such asymmetries are based on the assumption of a hierarchical vision of the word with Europe always on the top. What is also important in such worldviews, according to Böröcz, is the disappearance of the entire European evil, which remains treated as exceptional. The Western core becomes, in effect, idealized and turns into a role model. Böröcz in particular argues that: An idealized image of the core of the world economy – which serves, it will be recalled, as no more than an analytic category enabling the group of regional inequalities in the capitalist world-system in Wallerstein – now becomes a moral, historical, and emotional “core,” the main object of desirein the current, heavily globalized collective consciousness of the poststate-socialist societies of Central Europe. The center of global accumulation thus becomes a veritable lighthouse that organizes the rest of the world into concentric circles of morphological hierarchy, a telos toward which all other types of social form ought to gravitate. The essence of this thinking is that the best way to be included among the wealthiest societies is by imitating their idealized self-image. Deviations from that singular telos are commonly read as signs of inferiority. When asserted by westerners, the colonial-orientalist tinge of this argument is obvious, making it embarrassing to many – not so, however, when Central European commentators make this point about their own society. A brand of this thinking in Hungary matter-of-factly acknowledges the phenomenon of informality and describes it, with a peculiarly intense, western and aristocratic disdain, via one of the most time-honored derogatory notions of an estate-ordered society. Informality is linked to the unpleasant, lingering presence of a disdained peasant past (Böröcz, 2000: 378) This seems to be a typical way of production of models for Central and Eastern Europe. These models are generalized forms of idealized visions about
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centers and are presented to peripheries as patterns to follow. Böröcz notes that much of the activity of social sciences is based on measuring the progress of peripheries on the degree of closeness in imitating idealized central patterns, while explicitly comparative West-East research is exceedingly rare (Böröcz, 2000). One could note that the above discussed “strategy of shame” in Euroenthusiastic discourses may lead to reinterpretation of class divides in peripheral societies in terms of the East–West divide. In effect, the subaltern are more difficult to defend, even in terms of critical theory, as they may appear to represent not only oriental backwardness but also a “reactionary” option and thus, may be seen as victims of their own self-exclusion. At the same time, in such perspective the lower classes may appear to be an obstacle for progress, modernization and social reform. In other words, the lower classes appear as the main enemy of their own prosperity. In such context, the main task of the liberal elite may be defined in terms of the need to re-educate Euro-skeptic masses. This may involve calls for reform of the awareness of lower classes, which would allow the masses to “rationally” recognize their interests. These interests, from liberal point of view, would be defined in terms of Europeization and recognition of liberal intelligentsia values. For the conservative elites, a vision of society’s “normalization” could also involve calls for “re-education” of their opponents. It could include a program for “return” to the conservative, that is, to the “true roots” of both Western European identity as well as of intelligentsia identity. The intelligentsia identity is in effect the most legitimate way to be “European” in Central and Eastern Europe, in particular in Poland. This reinforces what I called the intelligentsia doxa by focusing the symbolic confrontation in the field of power on the criteria for intelligentsia membership and hierarchies.
5
Post-colonial theory in the Central European context
When looking at the mechanisms of application of post-colonial theory in peripheral states, we have to take into account the incompatibility of the contexts, between which they are moving. This kind of transfer can be seen as a chain of actions called by Richard Bauman and Charles Briggs respectively entextualization, decontextualization and recontextualization (Bauman and Briggs, 1990). The first phase of that process, according to Bauman and Briggs, consists of forming a specific thought, or set of ideas, into a textual, coherent whole, which is clearly distinct from what is currently considered as being external to it. Such a unit, in our case a specific vision of post-colonial theory, is then taken out of its original context, in our case out of Western critical thought. The latter on its turn is a part of the Western intellectual field, which has its specific position within the wider Western field of power. From that context ideas, in our case those related to post-colonial theory, are moving to a new context, in our case that is the peripheral context of Central and Eastern Europe. Here they are recontextualized, that is, reinterpreted and engaged in new battles in a new context of the peripheral fields of power. To understand this process, we have to analyze the specific location of the peripheral intellectual field in relation to the broader field of power in the peripheries. Let me now take a closer look at this process. The academic and intellectual fields in typical countries of the Western core and, in particular, in the United States enjoy a considerable autonomy, but their position in the wider field of power, is relatively subordinate. The distance from the core of the fields of power, in which the intellectual sub-fields are located, may be smaller in countries like France, but even there the academic field is relatively autonomous. In most cases, this distance prevents direct impact of the intellectual field on current politics. Intellectual ideas impact the political discourse rather indirectly, and, with the exception of revolutionary periods, they do that with a considerable delay. Academics and most intellectuals as well as their debates are rarely followed by the mainstream media, and their opinions are not considered as important points of reference by the majority of the decision makers in the field of politics or economics. Given their distance from the center of the field of power and their considerable autonomy, intellectual fields in the Western core often develop strong sub-fields of critical orientation. One could talk
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about an archipelago of such critical sub-fields of Western intellectual fields, in which post-colonial theory developed. As it seems, the relative radicalism of many of its authors, could also develop because of the above mentioned autonomy. Such autonomy provided, on the one hand, freedom of critical thinking, but, on the other hand, clear separation from the political field, which made ideas generated by the intellectual field not highly relevant for contemporary political life. The mostly intellectual character of post-colonial theory and its acceptance in Western universities, allowed its spectacular development, fuelled by the material and symbolic resources of Western academia, and also by the experimental laboratory-like setting, which prevented ideas, developed by critical intellectuals, from being tested by real political life. The structure of political scenes of Western countries also seems relevant in this context. In the framework of the classic right-left cleavage, critical theory is clearly located on the left side of the political scene and homologously, on the left side of the field of power. As has been mentioned earlier, the structure of the political scene of the peripheral countries of Central and Eastern Europe is radically distinct. As it has been discussed above, these countries are usually dominated by peripheral cleavages based on their reaction to external dominance. In the Central European (zone one) region, these cleavages used to be organized by the Soviet/Russian domination but are now turning towards the West, and have been reconstructed as divisions between supporters and opponents of European integration. In Russia (zone three), the central cleave had traditionally been organized by the attitude towards the West, while in part of the former Soviet peripheries it is still based on the attitude towards Russian domination (e.g. Ukraine). At the same time, in Central and Eastern Europe we usually observe much lower degree of autonomy of the intellectual fields when compared to most Western countries. The peripheral academic fields are usually much more closely related to political fields than those in the countries of the core. To be sure, mechanisms of these dependencies may be quite different. In Poland, where the traditional intelligentsia milieu may be seen as a privileged stratum, some intellectuals are active both in formal academia as well as in the political and public sphere. Serving as government officials, commentators for major media outlets or advisers to corporations or think-tanks, they effectively influence current political life. In the Russian case, the academia is also relatively closely related to politics and government, however, the relations of power are rather reverse compared to those in Poland. Here the liberal, more pro-Western and autonomous part of the intelligentsia field is relatively marginalized. On the other hand, the academic field is more conservative, more loyal to the government and often willingly serves its needs. In any case, however, intellectual ideas seem to play a relatively important role in the political discourse of power. Thus, the general mechanism of travel of the post-colonial theory ideas may be seen in the following way: from the relatively autonomous Western intellectual field they move to the much more politicized (heteronomous)
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intellectual fields of the Eastern European periphery. At the same time, the structure of contexts changes. Thus, from the dominated left sector of the intellectual field, which is critical of the economic capital elite, they move to fields defined by considerably different logics. In the case of zone one (e.g. Poland) and zone three (Russia), post-colonial theory ideas appear in a context defined by the attitude towards Western hegemony, which is understood not so much in economic terms, but rather in political and especially in cultural terms. In zone two (from Baltic States to Ukraine) they appear in the context of a cleavage defined by the attitude towards the Soviet and now Russian domination. Let me in this place analyze how post-colonial theory is recontextualized in the case of Poland, whose field of power is defined by the above-discussed cleavage, based on the reaction to the country’s peripheral status in relation to the Western core. As suggested earlier, post-colonial theory appears to be recontexualized in two parallel distinct ways in the two sectors of the Polish academic field. The classic works of Edward Said and Frantz Fanon were published in Poland in the last years of communist rule. Fanon’s The wretched of the earth (Fanon, 1965) was published in Poland in 1985 (Fanon, 1985), while Said’s Orientalism first published in Poland only in 1991, which means its translation has been approved still under the old regime (Said, 1991). The communist censorship most probably was allowing these publications under the assumption that their critical message will be interpreted in a direct way, that is, as being against the colonial, specifically Western evil. Ideas that the Soviet Union could be seen as a colonial power were not yet appearing in Poland. Early references to “post-colonial” theory appeared in political discourse at the moment of the fall of communism, in particular in the camp of anti-communist radicals (e.g. Drozdek, 1990). They did not find, however, any wider resonance before the end of 1990s. As far as the intellectual field of Poland is concerned, Claire Cavanagh is credited among the first to point to the ambiguous position of Poland in the context of post-colonial theory (Cavanagh, 2003, 2004). She drew attention to the possible interpretation of Poland’s history as a country with a historically dual role: both of a colonized subject and a colonizer, of an oppressor and a victim at the same time. This duality may be related to the above-mentioned ambiguity of the region’s status, or, using Wallerstein’s notions, its semi-peripheral status. At the same time, there is a clear relationship between the political location of specific actors in the Polish field of power and the emphasis they make on one of the aspects of Poland’s colonial experiences, distinguished by Cavanagh. For conservatives, it is Poland’s experience as a colony and its post-colonial status, which is at the center of interest. Of course, in this scheme, it is the Soviet Union, which plays the role of the evil empire. For Euro-enthusiastic liberals, it is the Polish imperial experience on which their interests focus. In this approach, post-colonial theory, instead of being a tool of reinforcing the image of Poland’s suffering, is used to highlight the importance of identifying and condemning Poland’s historical sins. Interestingly, both applications of post-colonial theory appear to be based on a
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significant moral imperative for service to society or nation. However, the definitions of the moral obligation are very different. On the one hand, we have an idea of service to country by reinforcing its self-confidence through pointing to its past glory and moral high-grounds, seen in the suffering by the hand of external oppressors. On the other hand, there is an approach of service understood as disclosing the nation’s sins. Here again SnochowskaSanchez’ formulations are very symptomatic. She asks: “Perhaps it would be a good idea—both in the case of Polish anti-Semitism and Polish post-coloniality— to deal with our own sins” (Snochowska-Gonzalez, 2012: 720). Aleksander Fiut (Fiut, 2003) fears that using post-colonial theory may imply a “hidden danger” of strengthening Poland’s identity as a victim, as a suffering nation tortured by its enemies. One could note, however, that “dealing with our sins” is de facto also aimed at improving “our” power, that is, the status of the country within global hierarchies. In other words, liberals to some extent also legitimize themselves in national categories. We have thus two opposite ways of approaching the record of Poland’s sufferings and sins. On the conservative side, there is a conviction that Poland, as a result of its marginalization, has a bad enough reputation, a very negative and absolutely undeserved image, so that any actions that have an aspect of highlighting Polish sins are highly unacceptable. Poland can’t afford undermining its moral backbone. Poland’s reputation as an anti-Semitic and nationalistic country in the West is already disastrous and based on false assumptions and impressions. Poles have to fight for the recognition of their suffering as victims and active opponents of Nazis and Communists, of their support for the Jews during the German occupation as well as for the recognition of their merits in fighting communism, which constitute a crucial contribution in bringing freedom to Central and Eastern Europe. On the liberal, in particular left-liberal side, the opinions are diametrically opposite. There is a widely shared conviction that exposing Poland’s sins will improve its international standing as it will result in recognition of Poland’s willingness to come to terms with its dark past. At the same time such approach is addressing a vital need to restrict the influences of the Polish right as a dangerous pre-modern political force. The liberals, in particular left-liberals, continuously condemn the conservative strategy to build Poland’s and their own symbolic capital based on the cult of suffering and on the image of Poland as an innocent victim of numerous wars and especially uprisings. For the liberals the innocence of Poles is in most cases doubtful, and their reasons for starting most of the uprisings rarely convincing. The “cult of suffering”, on the basis of which the conservative model of Polish identity is supposedly built, is “irrational” and incompatible with Western standards of civil society. The conservatives, on the other hand, argue that suffering is widely and increasingly important symbolic capital which most Western countries are trying to use. Their primary example is Israel, although the attention of Poland’s conservatives is also often attracted to German attempts to commemorate sufferings of German civilians killed during the Second World War and expelled from
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former eastern Germany after 1944. Zdzisław Krasnode¸bski specifically argues that the status of being a victim is a big moral capital, easily transferable into political capital, so everyone in the contemporary world, including Germany, is aspiring for such a status. At the same time, this may be a factor stimulating social and political mobilization, and should not be seen as having an anti-modernization character (Krasnode¸bski, 2007). Interestingly, however, none of the key authors of the two orientations directly applied post-colonial theory to interpret the current or recent dependence of Poland on the Western core. This may be, of course, related to what I called the “dependence doxa” in the introductory chapter. In other words, the reluctance to see Central Europe as a colony or post-colony of Western Europe may be related to the dominant fear of decreasing one’s own “Europeaness” by being associated with non-European colonies of the Western worlds. Dani Chioni Moore (Moore, 2001) sees exactly this conviction as a main reason for the lack of interest for exploring the implications of post-colonial theory in the region. He writes about claims to being “European” on the part of the “white” population of the former Soviet Union. The context of this unwillingness to use post-colonial theory, according to Moore, involves what he calls a dominant compensatory behavior and a cult of the glorious, powerful past.
Debating the conservative interpretation Let me look at what happens with post-colonial theory, once it was discovered on the right side of the Polish political spectrum. Ewa Thompson with her seminal work entitled Imperial knowledge. Russian literature and colonialism (Thompson, 2000a) can be seen as a pioneer in this area. Taking into account the Polish context, her work could be declared pioneering not only on the part of the right side of the Polish intellectual field, but on the part of its entirety. Her Imperial knowledge was the first book-length systematic attempt at applying post-colonial theory by a Pole. However, it was originally published in English in the United States, where the author works for several decades. At the same year, however, a Polish translation under the title Trubadurzy imperium has also appeared (Thompson, 2000b). The book is a study of the role played by Russian writers (e.g. Pushkin, Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, Solzhenitsyn, Rasputin) in service of Russian colonialism. Thompson argues in it that Russian fiction presents a notoriously orientalistic image of countries, dominated by Russia and by the Soviet Union. Moreover, as she contends, this image has been largely internalized by Western scholarship and by public opinion, thus obscuring the true nature of Russian imperialism. The book has originally not attracted much interest in Poland, however, in a couple of years it was followed by a series of articles by Thompson in the Polish press (Thompson, 2005a, 2005b, 2006, 2007a, 2007b). These articles mostly addressed the problems of contemporary Polish politics and presented a strongly critical view of Poland’s liberal elites. Interestingly, they were all based on a common interpretative base with the Imperial knowledge. The assumptions of Thompson, later
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adopted by several authors who shared her conservative outlook, are also coherent with the interpretation of Polish history and Poland’s position in Europe espoused by the right side of the Polish political spectrum. Being originally a part of the anti-communist camp of the political scene divided by the post-communist cleavage, it has a very deep conviction that the Soviet Union played a key role in the destruction of Poland’s sovereignty and in depriving the Polish nation of its vital, moral energies. For the entire anticommunist camp led by Solidarity, the Soviet Union was the main culprit and the main enemy of Poland. With the transformation of the political scene in the second decade after the fall of communism, the right camp was now redefined as Euro-skeptic (Zarycki, 2011). In the Polish case, however, it is in its majority not really anti-Western. The West is seen as far from ideal for Poland, but the main responsibility for the unequal relations between Poland and the West is laid on the liberal camp. Interestingly, Thompson offered a theory that links Poland’s current problems to past troubles by using namely post-colonial theory. As she argued, Poland is suffering from a post-colonial syndrome that consists of a lack of self-confidence and of a subordinated attitude to both Eastern and Western powerful neighbors. The West is, however, not a real hegemon, nor a new dominating center. It is rather a “surrogate hegemon”, as Thompson phrased it. In her view, the Polish elite became humiliated by the decades of Soviet oppression to such a degree that it has developed a consciousness of a slave unable to live without its master. Once the Soviet masters of Poland were gone, the old/new elite found themselves new surrogate masters—the Western elite. Thompson presented Poland’s postcommunist and liberal intellectual elites as colonial elites who became “clients” of the West “queuing for approval”. However, in her view, this clientism was also largely shared by politicians of the Polish right. This happened not as a result of any specific external pressure from the West, but can be primarily seen as an outcome of a post-colonial mentality originating from the historical submission to Russia, the hegemon proper. In contemporary Poland Thompson identified symptoms of classical post-colonial frustration, pessimism, helplessness and lack of confidence in one’s own country and its people. These are supposedly effects of a mental disposition, produced by decades of dependence from the Soviet Union. Currently, they are reproduced in a new geopolitical situation, when the need for a surrogate hegemonic patron ends in voluntary dependence on Western ideas and elites. In this way, post-colonial theory becomes a tool for criticism of the peripheral liberal elite. Liberals of the periphery, in contrast to liberals of the center, appear as a comprador class. Its negative role in the conservative optics is, however, seen mostly in cultural rather than in economic dimensions. The liberals are sometimes seen as defectors in the political dimension, but foremostly they are accused of spreading a complex of inferiority among their societies. To be sure, some authors located in the Euro-skeptic sector of the field of power, in particular conservative politicians, call these liberal elites “traitors”. Specifically, it was Zdzisław Krasnode¸bski who was talking about “treason of elites” in a
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similar context. He called it not “treason of this country, but treason of the people of this country” (Krasnode¸bski, 2005: 14). He saw the latter, among other factors, as originating in the fascination of the liberal elite with Western liberal elite. Interestingly, a similar accusation was made by David Ost in his Defeat of Solidarity (Ost, 2005). However, for Ost, the treason clearly had a class dimension rather than a national one: it was not so much a treason of “national interests” but a treason of the economic interests of the working class. Ost saw this type of treason in the liberal policies of the former leaders of the anti-communist movement. Interestingly, in her application of post-colonial theory, Thompson was able to alter it in two important ways. First alteration consisted of largely striping it off its West-critical aspects. In her application almost the entire evil is moved towards the Soviet Union and Russia. As Snochowska-Gonzalez argues, in this way Thompson also reproduced a typical orientalism towards Russia, as she implies that Russia is unworthy of the respect deserved by Great Britain or France. Western domination over the East, is replaced by an internal confrontation between the good conservative face of the West and its negative liberal face. The Western leftists appear to have been in collusion with the Soviet communists, and, with the support of the Soviet Union, to have created a system of oppression of the conservative West, in particular of its Catholic core, to which Poland, of course, historically belongs. This confrontation between the liberal-post-communist coalition and the conservative Polish patriots (Catholics and true European universalists of the West) is also taking place in Poland. The “patriotic” side is presenting itself as oppressed and colonized by the long-lasting effects of the communist yoke. In this way Thompson is able to separate the two factors, seen in classical Western interpretations, as interrelated: being Eastern and being oppressed/colonized. Colonial oppression is in a way de-teritorialized, or seen as a coalition between forces of the center and those of the distant periphery (zone-three), in which the semi-periphery (zone one) appears as a main victim. Marxism in this approach may be seen as accused of being the ideology of oppression. One, which is also largely invisible, as its oppression is performed under emancipatory slogans. Thompson argued that the absence of Poland in postcolonial discourse amounts to a success for the Soviets. In addition, Claire Cavangh also blamed Marxism for not recognizing the post-coloniality of the former Soviet colonies. Moreover, Cavanagh had argued that experiences, expressed in works of several notable Polish writers, could be read as classics of colonial and post-colonial studies. She mentioned two authors in particular: Czesław Miłosz and his reflection over the Soviet rule in Poland as well as Joseph Conrad and his Heart of Darkness, which for Cavanagh is a postcolonial classic. As she argues, however, most Western readings of Conrad ignore that his work illustrates perfectly how Polish experiences of the partition period could be related to colonial experiences of Western-dominated Asia and Africa (Cavanagh, 2004). These complaints may be seen as echoes of a much more general conviction, which seems to be widely shared among the
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conservative part of Poland’s intellectual field, but also among many liberals, in particular those who do not identify themselves with the left. It is a conviction that the West, in particular Western academia, is dominated by leftists, mostly with a longing for the communist era. This attitude makes many Polish intellectuals and their works, which express a clearly anti-communist stance, hardly acceptable in the Western intellectual field. An opinion reflecting such a point of view has been, for example, presented by Krzysztof Zanussi, one of the most prominent Polish film-makers. As he argued: The bosses of the festivals don’t like us at least for the last 20 years. We have incurred a terrible pain to the generation, which is ruling the European cinema. They have all believed that worlds can be fixed by the means of a socialist revolution. (Zanussi, 2008: 11) Zanussi complained that this may be the major reason behind the lack of recognition for Polish films at major festivals like those in Venice or Cannes. Bolesław Doman´ski made parallel comments as a geographer (Doman´ski, 2001). At the same time, for conservatives, their own traditional model of Polish history and identity represents “the essence of Poland”. Ewa Thompson argued, for example, that for medium-sized nations like Poland, destruction of the conservative option is likely to entail destruction of historical memory, which in turn is a crucial ingredient of Poland’s cultural identity (Thompson, 1997). One could interpret Thompson’s application of post-colonial theory as a result of a specific delimitation of the spatial focus of her object of inquiry. She is in fact largely ignoring the world-scale dependencies and center-periphery structures. One can also say that in this way she is naturalizing them. She is focused on the area of Central and Eastern Europe and almost solely interested in the Russo–Polish confrontation in that region. Other countries, including the Western core, are only a background for that key interaction. The Western world becomes a more or less static context for the Russo–Polish confrontation, while both Poles and Russians appear to have their own supporters in the West. The Russians/Soviets (colonizers of zones one and two) are allied with Western liberals and, in particular, with leftists. The Polish political right, allied with the national elites of other countries of the region, is associated with Western conservatives, in particular in the United States. Inside Poland, the liberal elite is often committing treason, but it also sometimes acts patriotically—as was the case with the Polish involvement in the war in Iraq. Let me remind the reader that the decision to join the US coalition against the “axis of evil” was taken by the post-communist left government in Poland. Andrzej Nowak, a conservative historian from Kraków who also supported this decision, while reflecting on the broader context of that situation, suggested that Poland was facing two choices. The first one included an alliance with the emerging Franco–German empire with pro-Russian proclivities, which Nowak saw as a peripheral way of development for Poland. The second choice included
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joining the core of the world system by an alliance with the US. The centrality of the role played by Poland in such a configuration was, according to Nowak, reflected in the following: “the presence of Polish troops in Iraq, in particular, of Polish leadership in one of the occupation zones including the legendary Babylon as well as in the remarks that president George W. Bush made at Wawel Casel. In his speech, president George W. Bush praised Poland and called it a key ally of the US” (Nowak, 2005). One could argue that, from such a perspective, the West, itself, becomes a primary arena of Russo–Polish confrontation. One may disagree with this approach, but as I would argue, it could be seen as an interesting way of provincializing Western Europe, and almost reminiscent of an answer to the famous Chakrabarty’s call (Chakrabarty, 2000). On the other hand, it can, of course, be seen as a proof of the very deep naturalization of Western domination, which I called earlier “dependence doxa”. In any case, from such a perspective, the entire West becomes a secondary background, an arena of confrontation between powers which could be otherwise considered as peripheral. Peripheral states, in our case Poland and Russia, are acting on the Western arena which defines certain conditions for these actions. However, the agency is mostly within the two peripheral actors, who are even able to “use” Western actors and structures in some more or less effective ways. One specific arena of Russo–Polish confrontation, as presented by Ewa Thompson and her followers like Dariusz Skórczewski (Skórczewski, 2006, 2007), is Western academia and, more broadly, the Western intellectual field. According to Thompson and Skórczewski, Poland is currently clearly loosing that confrontation. As Skórczewski argues, Polish literature is considered to be “highly contextual”, and is clearly losing the quest for universalism to Russian literature. Academic publications by mainstream Western publishers and bookstores dealing with Central and Eastern Europe present, on average, much more often interpretations that are closer to mainstream Russian than to mainstream Polish interpretations of history. Publications on Poland are also not only fewer but a major part of them presents a very negative image of Poland, in particular, by focusing mostly on Polish anti-Semitism, while works devoted to the glorious moments of Polish history, or the achievements of Polish science and culture are almost absent. Ewa Thompson also argues that the Polish voice in the West is silenced, and dominated by Russian voices. She sees a need of building a strong economy and a strong state as conditions for regaining an independent, widely recognized and trustworthy Polish voice. A clear feeling of unjust treatment, in particular in comparison with Ireland (and also with Asian countries) is permeating these opinions. In fact, this perspective seems to be based on an implicit assumption that the position of the region within global hierarchies is impossible to improve, but that the hierarchy inside the region, in particular between Poland and Russia, can still be changed. Looking at the Russo–Polish historical confrontation, one could note that both sides of the controversy legitimize their territorial aspirations in terms of modernization, emancipation and Europeization. As I have argued in my
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earlier paper (Zarycki, 2004), Andrzej Nowak presented the Polish invasion of Russia in 1610 as what we might call today a “democratization mission”. He speculated that in the case of it success, “the autocratic regime in Russia would have changed and with it the fate of Russia. Karamzin added that perhaps ‘the fate of Europe would also have changed for many centuries’” (Nowak, 1997). At the same time, Nowak saw the alliance proposed by Sigismund to the Muscovites in 1600 as “a union that bears striking similarities to the European Union of today”. Both arguments unequivocally alluded to a Polish vision of the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth as a precursor of the European Union and the most democratic state of Europe in the seventeenth century—a de facto republic of the nobility with the highest share of ennobled population as fully recognized citizens. Another example is the appeal to the workers of the nations of Central and Eastern Europe, issued at the first congress of Solidarity in 1980. This appeal is often presented as a manifestation of Poland’s important role in the democratization of Central and Eastern Europe. The Solidarity movement in general is considered a key actor, which brought about the fall of communism and, in effect, liberated the nations of the region from Soviet yoke. Most recently, Poland is one of the main advocates of the EU Eastern Partnership program, also presented as an engine of democratization of the region. On the Russian side we can find an equal number of interpretations of the history of Polish–Russian relations, which present the Russian or Soviet actions as acts of modernization. Poland has been often presented in Russia as conservative and reactionary (in different understandings of these notions, but usually from the perspective of being opposed to modernization), backward and irrational. Let me remind the reader that the partitions of Poland have been presented since their implementation in the late eighteenth century as acts originating in a “logic of modernization”. Later, in the nineteenth century, Russia’s imperial authorities have been modernizing Poland by banishing serfdom. After that, the Soviet Union presented its imposition of communism on Poland as an act of bringing modernization to Poland, both in terms of social progress, as well as in economic terms. Returning to the Thompson’s interpretation, she sees a need of overcoming Poland’s post-colonial syndrome, which would allow Poland to attain selfconfidence in the international scene. This process of overcoming the postcolonial syndrome requires reinforcement by the state and its support for national culture. One of the main ideologues of this approach is Zdzisław Krasnode¸bski (Krasnode¸bski, 2004, 2006). Krasnode¸bski, a sociologist based in Warsaw and Bremen, has called for abandoning what he has termed “imitative development”, i.e., modernization programs based on replication of the West. He has called for recognition of Poland’s specificity. In particular, that of its historical (pre-partition) traditions including ambiguity in its approach towards the Enlightenment and European revolutions, and the role of the Catholic Church. His key slogan emphasized the need for revival of the glorious traditions of the First Rzeczpospolita. The re-evaluation of Poland’s relations
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with the Enlightenment was a question, that was also supported by Jadwiga Staniszkis (Staniszkis, 2005). Zdzisław Krasnode¸bski, in turn, argued that “the commonly accepted notion of modernity, influenced by Max Weber, discounts the role of Catholicism, Renaissance, and of the European South” (Krasnode¸bski, 2004: 1035) As Krasnode¸bski argued, Poles and Germans hold very different attitudes toward the Republican tradition. In his view, the majority of present-day liberals in Poland falsely believe that in East Central Europe there has never existed a political culture conducive to and supportive of liberal attitudes. Weber, in Krasnode¸bski’s view, considered the traditional Polish political order as an outrageous and frivolous custom of Warsaw aristocracy. Krasnode¸bski maintained that for Weber: Russia and Prussia represented real order. But from the point of view of the twenty-first century, the ideas on which order was based in the Polish Res publica do not seem absurd: to understand the state as a form of selforganization of society does not seem outrageous at all. The same could be said about other features of Polish Republicanism: the civil rights of individuals, limited as they were at that time to aristocracy and gentry; avoidance of extreme solutions; striving after compromise; and tolerance of minority religions. It goes without saying that these rules were put to practice in an imperfect manner, and some of them were abandoned altogether in the declining years of the First Republic. (Krasnode¸bski, 2004: 1038) At the same time Krasnode¸bski argued that: the Solidarnos´c´ movement was in many ways a continuation of this Republican tradition. According to Janusz Tazbir, the old Polish gentry traditions ‘are the strongest elements of our political culture, and they form the historical basis of all anti-totalitarian strivings and actions [in Poland]’ (Tazbir, 1998: 234). Tazbir points out that the features of the Polish national character that evoked criticism in the eighteenth century turned out to be virtues in the twentieth: “In the radically changed historical conditions the shortcomings of the gentry sometimes became its strong points. ( … ) often conservatism became an attachment to the past and to national traditions, and the old opposition to centralized rule and dislike of absolutism manifested themselves in the anti-tsarist and anti-imperial attitude (Tazbir, 1998: 75). The opposite was also the case: humanism and progressivism mutated into servility and collaboration. (Krasnode¸bski, 2004: 1043) One could note that many of the above mentioned Polish intellectuals (like Thomson or Krasnode¸bski, but not Tazbir who has been quoted only by Krasnode¸bski) expressed their public support of the Polish right, in particular, of the Law and Justice party and of Lech and Jarosław Kaczyn´ski. This seems
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to confirm the thesis that there exist relatively close links between the intellectual and political fields in Poland. Moreover, politicians of the Polish right as well as media commentators close to it have been responsive to ideas produced by conservative intellectuals. In particular, the interpretation of post-colonial theory, offered by Thompson, has been referred to by the leader of that camp— Jarosław Kaczyn´ski, who, for a couple of years already, most probably under the influence of Ewa Thompson’s publications, has regularly used the adjective “post-colonial” when criticizing his liberal opponents and their policies. One of the leading right-wing journalists and commentators, Rafał Ziemkiewicz, also often refers to post-colonial notions. In particular, he often calls the liberal elite a comprador one. Ziemkiewicz seems to suggest that not only the problem of mentality is involved here, but also the fact that the former communist elites have been simply inherited from the communist period, which is seen by him as colonial. The new elites are also, in his view, a product of the communist period. As he suggests, most of these former Communist apparatchiks and people who made their carriers under the previous system, obtained their privileged positions not by merit but as a reward for services performed for the occupant. As Ziemkiewicz argues, “the old colonizers are gone, but the local collaborators stayed in place, and even when it’s now already obvious that there in way to live without them ( … ) the anger remains” (Ziemkiewicz, 2008a: 271–72). In his view, Poland’s trouble with the elites is identical to those of post-colonial states like Peru, Kenya or Pakistan (Ziemkiewicz, 2008b). To sum up, the conservative perspective can be seen as obsessed with the Russian/Soviet domination, and as having a clear recognition of Russia as Poland’s significant other. The entire “political energy” (or the performative force) of post-colonial theory is used to counter the dependence of Poland on Russia, and to delegitimize the supposed symbolic violence that Russia exerts. One could speculate that this focus on Russia could be considered more realistic, since a renegotiation of the relations with Russia may be seen as more conceivable than that of the relations between Poland and the West. In any case, considering the Russian/Soviet domination as a source of most problems that the country, society and economy experience, results in a marginalization of issues, related to the relations between Poland and the West. One could note, if we follow such a logic of geopolitical confrontation, that this configuration, in particular, the permanent Russo–Polish confrontation, serves both the dominant West, whose power is largely naturalized, as well as national elites of the countries of zone two. The latter elites, located between Poland and Russia, may enjoy an almost unconditional support from the Polish side, as long as they try to maintain their independence, and distance themselves symbolically from Russia. Interestingly, the Polish right also criticizes Russian applications of postcolonial theory based on the internal colonialism thesis. Let me remind the reader that it was Alexander Etkind who has advanced the idea that the relations between Russia’s elites, concentrated in Moscow and St Petersburg, and the hinterland, populated by peasants, could be seen as a case in support
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of the internal colonization thesis. The notion of internal colonization has been first proposed by Michael Hechter (Hechter, 1975) in reference to interregional relations in Britain, where he saw the Celtic fringe as a periphery colonized by the English core. The British case was, in Etkind’s view, different from internal colonization as he saw it in the Russian Empire because the latter was a colonization of “geographically and ethnically internal population, which was subjected to economic exploitation but which resisted cultural assimilation” (Etkind, 2003: 20). The key element of Etkind’s interpretation was the thesis that “the heartland regions of the country were exploited more than peripheral regions” (Etkind, 2003: 21). Peripheral regions included mainly the Western peripheries, the Baltic States or Poland and enjoyed higher levels of development. Thus, as Etkind concluded, “in Russia the typical colonial endeavors were directed not overseas but rather at the people in the homeland” (Etkind, 2003: 23). He further made a comparison between “Russian Populism” and “Western Orientalism”, both of which supposedly produced “amalgams of fear, guilt, pride, and curiosity in areas as divergent as ethnography, fiction and terrorism” (Etkind, 2003: 24). In effect, the 1917 revolution becomes for Etkind a narrative of colonial people—the Russian narod—taking power from their colonizers—the country’s political and educated elite. Such an interpretation appears to be totally unacceptable for Polish conservatives. First, because it suggests that Russians themselves were suffering more than Poles under the nineteenth century Russian occupation. Second, this view is unacceptable for the Polish conservatives since it partly legitimizes the Bolshevik Revolution in terms of post-colonial theory. Andrzej Nowak has seen Etkind’s application of the “internal colonialism” thesis as an attempt to reduce Russia’s guilt. Nowak argued in particular: According to Etkind, Russia colonised itself: the Empire did not colonise transborder regions of Turkey, or Poland, or even Siberia, but instead the villages of Tula, Orenburg or Saratov. During the ‘classical’ imperial period of the 18th and nineteenth centuries, the cultural distance between the elites of administration and Russian peasants was enormous and the administrative centre regulated it. Peasants were the ‘Unknown’-’Strangers’ to the educated elites of Russia. Internal colonisation in Russia meant making its people European. Thus the question (not clearly formulated by Etkind) of what, with respect to this viewpoint, could de-colonisation mean for Russia? – remains unanswered. (Nowak, 2003: 133) What seems characteristic for the conservative uses of post-colonial theory, is a focus on geopolitics, which is much less visible in liberal interpretations. Thus, the dependence doxa seems stronger in most liberal discourses, which see integration with the Western core, in particular in terms of culture and values, as a key strategic goal. Geo-political speculations, envisaged as ways of compensating for the dependence on the Western core and popular among
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conservative authors, are usually considered by liberals as dangerous phantasies fueled by anti-Western sentiments and nationalist ideologies. At the same time, traditional Polish conservatives enjoy debating plans of building CentralEuropean coalitions that would be able to counter both excessive German domination and Russian imperial ambitions, which they usually see as the main threat for the entire region. Characteristic of conservative discourses is the emphasis on Germany and its colonial legacy, including aspirations to control Central Europe (Mitteleuropa) rather than the West. This colonial legacy is particularly referred to in terms of the hegemony over global capitalism by the Anglo–American system. At the same time, Polish conservatives are deeply suspicious of the geopolitical discourses of Russian conservatives. To be sure, Russian conservatives usually ignore Poland, or treat it in a dismissive way as a minor actor of the European geopolitical scene and a blind slave of the West. Nevertheless, we can encounter Russian conservatives who offer ideas on some type of Polish–Russian alliance stemming from the similar fate of Poland and Russia in regards to the current world-system configuration. Modest Kolerov suggested, for example, that given: the historical experience and a prevailing missionary intuition of Eastern politics, the experience of the multinational Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth (Empire) is the only stable foundation for a dialogue between Polish multinational and non-ethnic Russia (Empire). (Kolerov, 2012: 173) The dialogue between these two imperial experiences and the recognition of their equal “post-imperial” background is the real basis for a historical reconciliation, as Kolerov suggested. From the liberal point of view, such a proposal is absolutely unacceptable since the Polish–Russian reconciliation, for liberals, can only be based on mutual renunciation of any imperial heritage and ambitions. The latter, according to liberals, should be replaced by the ideas of European integration and by a full acceptance of Western values. For Polish conservatives, on the other hand, the Polish imperial legacy can be seen as, largely, a positive one, but any Russian reference to its own imperial legacy is absolutely unacceptable and should be considered a threat to Poland, much greater than any danger coming from the West. In other words, Polish conservatives can be seen as obsessed with a fear of Russian domination in zones one and two, while Polish liberals fear both Polish and Russian ambitions to dominate zone two. Interestingly, only from the point of view of Russian conservatives, Western domination over the entire region of Central and Eastern Europe becomes discernible. This may often create surprising affinities between broadly understood Russian conservatives and Western leftists, who produce world views in which Western dominance is one of the primary structures organizing the contemporary world system. These affinities may explain the interest of some Russian conservatives in classics of Western critical thought like
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Noam Chomsky or Larry Wolf. At the same time, these Russian critiques of Western domination, in particular over Central Europe, are usually strongly rejected outside Russia. Polish conservatives, despite their clear Euro-skepticism, are even more skeptical towards any Russian critical views of the West. A good example of such an attitude is Andrzej Nowak’s analysis of Aleksandr Panarin’s studies. This is how Nowak summarizes Panarin’s interpretation of Central Europe’s current status in the world system: Now, by moving away from the system of East Europe, the nations of Central Europe of the former Soviet bloc are pushed not only to the geopolitical margins but they also become distant cultural peripheries of the ‘German and Roman’ system (the term used by Panarin after Danilevsky to describe West Europe). These countries transform themselves into the “lumpenproletariat” of the West, the source of an undemanding, cheap labor force. Their very weak situation may change in their favor only when Russia and the geopolitical system of East Europe (restoring at least the unity of Russia with Ukraine and Belarus) become stronger. When Russia is powerful again, the status of Slavic countries within Central Europe will improve and will be more easily accepted by the West than in a situation when Russia is weak and East Europe is broken. In a special edition of the monthly Rodina devoted to the Slavic world, Panarin phrases his formula even more clearly—‘weak Russia means no Poland’. (Nowak, 2003: 154) Nowak notes Panarin’s suggestion that “Central Europe, together with a strong East Europe revived by Russia (with Ukraine) should preserve its separate identity in relation to West Europe.” (Nowak, 2003: 154). He also recounts Panarin’s “note of warning (the warning is not free from a specific Schadenfreude) against German dominance, which will become a much more serious problem for them than the threats relating to the previous hegemony of Moscow.” (Nowak, 2003: 154). Interestingly, Nowak, instead of relating Panarin’s critical view on Germany to the traditional, and still partly vivid, fears of Polish conservatives, presents the entire analysis as having: very traditional ingredient of a specific ‘blackmail’ used by Russian thought since 18th century in relation to Slavic, mostly ungrateful (like Poland) nations at the western outskirts of the Russian Empire—the Germans will serve you right! Now the same motif takes the form of a prediction of a real threat to the territorial integrity of Poland and the Czech Republic on the part of German revisionism or ‘just’ the threat resulting from the total dependence of these countries on German capital and German political influence. (Nowak, 2003: 154)
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With a similar suspicion Nowak reacts to Alexei Miller’s analyses, which point to Central European uses of history that aim to justify the region’s rapprochement with the West and the inclusion of its countries into (West) European and Atlantic structures. As Miller suggests in Nowak’s recounting, such historical interpretations imply that “Russia, separated not only from the countries of its former internal empire in Europe but also from Ukraine (and Belarus) is in fact pushed away from the West or even juxtaposed alongside Western civilization” (Nowak, 2003: 149). For Nowak, Miller’s criticism of Polish uses of the concept of “Central Europe” as a tool for a symbolic separation from Russia is unacceptable and may have been stimulated by imperial mentality, which Miller demonstrates as a typical Russian. Nowak argues in particular that: By questioning this concept of Central and East Europe proposed and pursued by e.g. Jerzy Kłoczowski’s center in Lublin, is the Muscovite researcher expressing a ‘purely historical reason’ or is the passion with which he attacks it influenced by his contemporary, Russian ‘kognitive Karte’? The same ‘mental map’, or at least one very similar to those whose contours can be found in works by other Russian scientists like Panarin, Sorokin, Pleshakov, Gadzhiev, Pivovarov. (Nowak, 2003: 149) For Nowak, and probably for most Polish conservatives, any Russian attempts at suggesting a common platform of Polish–Russian cooperation will be always based on assumptions of explicit or implicit Russian attempts to subordinate Poland and the entire region of Central Europe. As Nowak suggests: In countries like Poland (and others of the Central and East European ‘border duchies’) we have to either choose to join one of the imperial systems as a subject, the role of the Duchy of Warsaw or the “Congress” Kingdom, or hope that this imperial temptation will be rejected in today’s world. (Nowak, 2003: 154) This conservative distrust of Russia and Russians, who are seen as intrinsically imperial and tending to recreate a situation in which Poland will be again Russia’s de-facto colony, produces conditions which will render ideas of any Polish–Russian cooperation unthinkable. One could note that this fundamental rift between the two countries reinforces Western domination in the entire region, but can be interpreted in various ways. On the one hand, it can be seen as manifestation of Poland’s weakness. This weakness refers to Poland’s inability to allow itself any autonomous policy that could be seen as not following the lines of Western scenarios written for Poland. Most conservatives and liberals in Poland will, however, read this firm rejection of cooperation with Russia and even that of considering its alternative viewpoints, as a proof
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of Poland’s strength. By rejecting “temptations” of yielding to Russian political or even intellectual influences, as most conservatives and liberals in Poland will probably agree, Poland confirms its firm European identity and strong political will. The determination to reject “eastern” forces allows it to remain an unequivocally Western country.
Debating the liberal interpretation It would be difficult to say that the liberal side of the Polish political spectrum embraced post-colonial theory with enthusiasm comparable to that of conservatives. The post-colonial status of Poland is rather rejected in the mainstream Polish political life, which is currently defined in clearly liberal terms. The dominant interpretations of Poland’s position in Europe suggest that it is a “normal” country, fully (re-)integrated with the European Union, and, in fact, not much different from the average European states in any meaningful way. Most historical disasters and troubles, which Poland suffered in the last centuries, are usually interpreted as effects of the “irresponsibility” and “irrationality” of Polish elites rather than blamed on external actors. Many liberal authors reject the perspective of dependence theories and world systems theory, in particular because they see them as conspiracy theories suggesting the absolution of Polish elites from their responsibility for Poland’s fate. For instance, Janusz Hryniewicz, who presented such a view, refused to look at Central European history in terms of domination or exploitation, and suggested that the effect of the region’s backwardness should be mostly assigned to the unwillingness of local elites to follow Western models of political and economic organization (Hryniewicz, 2008). The conservative longing for the lost glory of the First Rzeczpospolita is largely absent in the liberal milieu. At the same time, in its mainstream, just as in the conservative sectors, Western critical theory is usually rejected and its language considered Marxist, that is, post- or neo-communist. Interest in critical theory appears rather on the left margins of the liberal camp, in intellectual milieus, which are much more distant to the liberal power elite, than conservative intellectuals are to the conservative power elite. Because of that more restricted use of post-colonial theory on the liberal side and because of the weaker presence of the theory in the mainstream political discourse, representatives of that sector of the Polish intellectual field tend to see post-colonial theory as “taken over” or “kidnapped” by conservatives. More generally, much of the liberal applications of post-colonial theory, at least in Poland, were produced in reaction to the conservative applications discussed above. A recent article by Claudia Snochowska-Gonzalez seems to be a good confirmation of that thesis. Snochowska-Gonzalez builds her thesis in opposition to “nationalistic right-wingers”, whose applications of post-colonial theory are “problematic” and constitute “appropriations” and “misuses” or even a “hostile takeover” (Snochowska-Gonzalez, 2012). Snochowska-Gonzalez also notes that postcolonial theory is an effective tool in the context of Polish political life, as its
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application by the right might “become a serious reinforcement of its nationalistic narrative” (Snochowska-Gonzalez, 2012). Let me thus take a closer look at the reinterpretation of post-colonial theory in the left sector of the Polish intellectual field. One of its priorities is the containment of the Polish right. This task is usually defined as a moral mission in service of both Poland and the wider European community, which can be threatened by unchecked outbursts of nationalism in Poland, just as in other countries of Central and Eastern Europe. In such context, of crucial importance is the link made by conservatives between the heritage of the First Rzeczpospolita and the current political situation. As conservatives argue, what Poland needs, is to regain its due position on the political map of Europe as well as its lost self-confidence and pride. In her critiques of current liberal elite, Ewa Thompson used images of the elites of the First Rzeczpospolita as exemplar for the needed moral revival of current Polish elites. The same historical heritage is, however, viewed in clearly negative light by the left-liberals. They see at least two dimensions of inequalities that disqualify the First Rzeczpospolita: first, social, and, second, national. The social inequality refers to the noble-peasant opposition, which as Snochowska-Sanchez puts it: determined the enduring division of the Polish society into the ‘masters’ (pany) and the ‘boors’ (chamy). The lines of this division were identical with the division into the ‘civilised’ and the ‘ignorant,’ the exploiters and the exploited, the cultured and those making unreasonable demands, etc., thus reproducing the template of Orientalisation. (Snochowska-Gonzalez, 2012: 717) The second dimension of inequality, created by the First Rzeczpospolita, is the domination of Poles over national and religious minorities such as Ruthenians (Ukrainians), Belarussians and others. That dimension will be discussed in more detail in the Kresy chapter. Here, one can briefly note that this way of looking at Polish society may be seen as a naturalization of the superiority of the burger-worker class cleavage over the gentry-peasantry cleavage seen as a pre-modern strata type hierarchy. This seems to be a characteristic liberal view on the heritage of the key opposition lord (pan)-boor (cham), which is seen as pre-modern and incompatible with Western norms of civil society. Moreover, for some liberal authors, that scheme may be itself characterized as anti-urban and place Poland in a symbolic countryside contrasted with the urbanized West. Paweł Kubicki looks at that legacy in such a way and sees it as having a key symbolic role as a “manor house” (Kubicki, 2008). As Kubicki argues, manor house does not stand for the material residence of a nobleman, but it is a symbolic object, which links cultural elements characteristic for the gentry as well as for the peasantry. These two models of culture differ from each other substantially, but they have one common feature, fundamental to the understanding of Polish nationalism, namely: a complete opposition to urban, industrial culture, which is very characteristic of Western
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Europe. This alienation can be described on a cultural level as well as on a structural one. It resulted in a situation where values characteristic of urban, industrial society were perceived as “alien”, whereas features, which were connected to folk’s and gentry’s culture were identified with “sameness”. According to such a liberal interpretation, a large part of Polish society is still predominated by values, evoked by the symbolic meaning of a “manor house.” These people find difficulty in understanding a fast growing contemporary world. Thus, all changes, for them, especially these coming from urban culture, are perceived as a danger. It results in a situation where these people feel a necessity to protect their traditional patterns of culture and to defend themselves against the dangerous outside world (Kubicki, 2008). One could, however, remind the reader that Polish opposition could be also seen in its more advance form as an equivalent of the class burger-worker opposition, in particular, when the intelligentsia is seen as a cultural capitalist class defined in an open way and based on meritocratic ideology. At the same time, this interpretation ignores the fact that the classic Western class divide has a strong element of aristocracy-peasantry opposition, naturalized as Bourdieu showed convincingly in his seminal Distinction (Bourdieu, 1984). “Cham” (a boor), assuming a prointelligentsia interpretation, may be seen as someone who is not ready or able to fulfill the duties of a full Polish citizen. One could relate this interpretation to a view of citizenship, understood not only in terms of rights but also in terms of obligations. Consequently, “boor” could be seen as an element of the Polish vocabulary of civil society. Instead of being looked upon as a tool for exclusion and expression of disdain, the term could be seen as a way of setting high standards of civic responsibility, and as a symbolic tool for disciplining those who are not willing to meet its moral standards. These controversies over the interpretation of the role of the “pan-cham” (lord-boor) opposition in the context of understanding the civil society model, may be seen as an element of the wider contest over the definition of the cultural frames of civil society in Central and Eastern Europe, to which Michał Buchowski has pointed (Buchowski, 1996). Thus, as we can see, because of the uses of the pre-partition historical narrative of a glorious past by the conservative right, interpretations of that period become highly politicized. While the liberal mainstream tries to maintain neutrality and confirms its respect of the heritage of the First Rzeczpospolita, the liberal left assumes an openly critical stance. Post-colonial theory is employed by those on the left who want to undermine the value of the heritage in question in order to prevent what they consider is the development of nationalistic myths. In such interpretation, the First Rzeczpospolita appears as a classic imperial project in which the nobility plays the role of colonizers. In such light, the Polish right, even if it is not a direct colonizer, is following Poland’s colonial identities, glorifying them and, in effect, orientalizing national minorities and Poland’s eastern neighbors. Snochowska-Gonzales also accuses the conservatives of orientalizing prejudice and anti-Russian phobias. Snochowska-Gonzales widens her application of post-colonial theory
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to include the recent involvement of Poland in the US-led Iraq war. In such context, we see that the question of defining the focus and the context of investigation becomes again a key issue. Snochowska-Gonzalez puts the relationship between the Western core, within which she includes Poland, and the third word, at the center of her approach. This approach stands in a stark contrast to the conservative focus on Polish–Russian relations as the key axis of the analytical frame. What is, however, common to these otherwise conflicted interpretations, is that they both avoid framing Poland as explicitly “eastern” and, at the same time, they evade addressing the problems of Western domination over Poland. Its aspects may appear in conservative interpretations, as I have mentioned, but they are viewed as secondary, given their origin in the supposed heritage of Soviet domination. Let me, however, return to the left-liberal application of post-colonial theory. In that perspective, Poland becomes a colonizer responsible for most of the sins of Western imperialism. Such an analytical inclusion of Poland into the Western core reinforces Snochowska-Gonzalez’s thesis that “writing about post-colonial Poland as a victim of the eastern empire becomes a misuse” (SnochowskaGonzalez, 2012: 716). As she argues, “it obscures the present comfortable position of Poland in the world of global capital and relieves it of its responsibility for participation in modern acts of (neo)imperialism and (neo)colonialism.” (Snochowska-Gonzalez, 2012: 716) This remark can be related to a difference in interpretations of the current situation in Poland between liberals and conservatives. Thus, while liberals argue that Poland’s general and, in particular, geopolitical situation is excellent, even the best in the last few centuries of the country’s history, for conservatives, Poland’s situation is rather problematic. Jarosław Kaczyn´ski called contemporary Poland under liberal government a “Russian-German condominium”. Importantly, he did not refer to “Western” dependence, but only to German hegemony and to the pro-German policies of the liberal government. Interestingly, in Russia, the views on the present situation of the country on both sides of the analogical cleavages are diametrically opposite. The pro-Western liberals consider the situation of Russia critical, while the neo-Soviet conservatives, consider it largely positive, and praise the Kremlin for its resistance to Western hegemony. One could also mention an interesting application of post-colonial theory, proposed by Maria Janion, a prominent Polish literary scholar. Janion collected her essays referring to post-colonial issues in a book entitled Incredible Slavdom (Niesamowita Słowian´szczyzna) (Janion, 2006). Janion’s position was not the most typical for the liberal camp. In fact, she could be probably related to the radical left-liberal pole of Poland’s political spectrum. Her interpretations could be seen as relatively original, especially given her relatively critical view on the place of Poland within wider Europe. Janion is one of the few major Polish authors who do not fear turning Poland into a victim of colonial oppression coming from the West, and assuming an interpretation of Poland as being “eastern”, and, therefore, in some ways, a victim of Western
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hegemony. She starts her analysis with the traditional beginning of Poland’s statehood, which is conventionally identified with the baptism of prince Mieszko the 1st in 996. As Janion reminds us, however, the adoption of Christianity by Poland and other peoples of the region was not entirely voluntary. It was mainly accepted under the pressure of military incursions from the West, predominantly by the Germans of the Holly Roman Empire who used slogans about fighting the infidels and promoting Christianization. Voluntary adoption of Christianity with Czech mediation has deprived the Germans of their major ideological argument for legitimizing Eastward expansion. Mieszko’s baptism was followed by a brutal campaign of eradication of earlier pagan cults. The issue of the destruction of pre-Christian Slavic heritage and its marginalization in cultural memory is interpreted by Janion in terms of post-colonial theory. As Janion argues, the pre-Christian Slavic heritage has been eradicated by Catholic institutions in Poland in a much more radical way, than, for example, in Ireland, where much a larger part of pre-historic traditions has been preserved. But for Janion this is not only a problem of lack of interest on the part of Polish medieval monks in documenting preChristian culture, but it is also due to the current low interest in that culture. Janion, in particular, contrasts the low prestige of the Slavic mythology of Polish lands with the popularity of the Celtic mythology, especially that of Irish lands. As she argues, the low status of Slavic mythology and the relative ignorance of Poles regarding their traditions result partially from the Eastern-European complex of inferiority. In Janion’s opinion, the prevailing negative stereotype of Slavic peoples, which includes their low civilizational level, lack of technical and organizational capabilities, laziness, melancholy, etc., has largely been constructed by German historiography and assimilated by Poles themselves. One could probably argue that this relative devaluation of the Slavic heritage is reproduced currently by the peripheral location of practically all Slavic states in the modern world system. Janion seems to see it, however, in mostly psychological or, at best, cultural terms of reproduction of “deficient” myths. In addition, she does not point out that the particularly ambiguous status of Slavic heritage in Poland can be linked to the long lasting Polish–Russian contest over the leadership of Slavic nations. In effect, uses of Slavic identity are looked upon, in Poland, with particular suspicion (in contrast not only to Poland’s Eastern Slavic neighbors, but also to the Czech and Slovak Republics, since they are associated with the attempts of Imperial Russia, mostly in the nineteenth century, to expand its influences in the region by using the so called Pan-Slavic movement. The latter was based on slogans for unity of Slavic nations under the Russian umbrella). One could thus argue that the Slavic identity has been largely rejected in Poland and it has been assigned to Poland’s significant Eastern others in the classic orientalist discourse of Polish national identity. In such a view, Poland’s cultural backwardness related to its Slavic roots, has been supposedly largely eradicated by the adoption of Western, that is, “modern” Christianity. Eastern Byzantine Christianity is supposed to amplify the Slavic roots of the backwardness of Eastern European countries. Interestingly,
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such a way of self-identification in Poland has resulted in its accusations in the East, in particular in Russia, of being the traitor of Slavdom. One could note that Janion, referencing the Hungarian historian László C. Szabó, refers to the conquest of the former lands of Slavs (today mostly in former Eastern Germany) as “the bloodiest Crusade” (Janion, 2003). As she argues, on the present day Polish territory, not only Slavic traditions were destroyed, but also several other cultures have been totally eradicated, most notably those of the Baltic tribes. In Polish classic literature, the extermination of the tribe of ancient Prussians is commemorated by the legend of Konrad Wallenrod in a poem by Adam Mickiewicz. At the same time, Janion criticizes Polish historians, especially Jerzy Kłoczowski, for opinions such as those suggesting that all costs, related to Poland’s integration with Western Christianity, and particularly the brutal policies in the Middle Ages, have been well worth paying in order to establish a strong basis for later economic development. In this way, Janion’s interpretation undermines the central role of Catholicism or even Christianity in the conservative discourse. Janion’s interpretation can be thus seen as a specific type of left-liberal uses of post-colonial theory. It is unique in its recognition of Germany’s role as a historic oppressor of native Polish and pre-Polish Slavic culture and pagan cults, which existed on the territory of contemporary Poland. This critical view on the role of Germany seems, however, to be strictly historical and restricted to the cultural sphere. At the same time, Janion’s book is an attack on key values of the conservative camp, in particular, on the role of the heritage of Roman-Catholicism, which the Polish right sees as one of the fundaments of Poland’s belonging to the West. Reliance on Christian heritage is thus seen by Janion as a result of post-colonial assimilation of the religion of Western oppressors. Her interpretation was not widely followed, but given Janion’s prominence, it has been noted in the intellectual field and, in particular, critically commented by conservative authors. In this context, one could note that, besides Janion’s reflection on the role of German colonization of the ancient Slavic tribe in imprinting complexes of inferiority on contemporary Poland, there are several other authors on the liberal side who are interested in critical analyzes of German colonial practices and discourses in respect to Slavic countries, and especially to Poland. An extensive study on how Berlin has forgotten about its Polish and Slavic historical roots has been published (Danielewicz-Kerski and Górny, 2008). There have been also attempts at deconstruction of German colonial discourse by Polish authors (Surynt, 2007). Hubert Orłowski, who is not clearly engaged in any of the sides of Poland’s main political conflict, published several studies on the negative stereotypes of Poland in Germany’s modernization discourses, in particular in respect to the so called “polnische Wirtschaft” or “Polish economy” (Orłowski, 1996). As Orłowski argued, the key period when the negative image of Poland and its political culture emerged as incompatible with the requirements of modernization, was that of the fall of the First Rzeczpospolita, a state which could be seen as an important competitor of
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Prussia. In effect, the fall of the First Rzeczpospolita was a measure of its inefficiency. As this was the period when modern German identity was developing and when bourgeois protestant virtues were becoming German national virtues, Poland and its history, even for Prussian liberals, were in a process of becoming the significant other of German modernity. Orłowski called it “a skewed mirror of the German modernization”. Persistence of such notions as “polnische Wirtschaft” or “polnische Reichstag”, and the constant negative references to Poland’s history long after the disappearance of the Polish state in the nineteenth century, led Orłowski to suggest that the “contours of Poland” could be seen as Germany’s phantom pain. Orłowski concluded his studies with a suggestion that “the German discourses possessed (and probably still possess) a powerful moral-civilizational power of assignment particular traits to Poland and Poles on the scale on national respect”. (Orłowski, 2009: 26). His analysis clearly aspires to go beyond narrow discoursive reductionism, as he is able to show the much wider political and economic context for the reproduction of negative stereotypes of Poland.
Post-colonial theory as a language of expression of Central-European concerns The Polish uses of post-colonial theory may lead us to several conclusions. First, the interest in it can be seen as a proof of the performative force of Westernsanctioned discourses. Most of the claims made by both liberal as well as conservative users of post-colonial theory in Poland, could be probably expressed without any references to it. Still, the theory and its language attract Polish intellectuals and, as a result, also politicians and journalists. Poland is, of course, not unique in this. In this context Dariusz Skórczewski, a literary historian who argues from a rather conservative position, makes a clear claim that postcolonial theory is a way for Poland to express its interests, its claims, and to communicate its specificity and historical traumas (Skórczewski, 2007). Many liberal authors would probably share his general assumption, although for them post-colonial theory is a way of expressing quite different messages. We are thus facing another characteristic trait of the process of recontextualization of post-colonial theory in Poland’s intellectual field. It has clearly a dual character, since two parallel ways of its application can be identified. As suggested above, they reflect the fundamental structure of the Polish field of power and its division into the Euro-enthusiastic liberal side and the Euro-skeptic conservative side. Thus, on the conservative side, post-colonial theory is being redefined through an anti-communist, anti-Soviet as well as anti-Russian discourse, which is supposed to explain Poland’s current weakness and to expose the alleged corruption of the liberal intelligentsia elite. On the liberal side, the same post-colonial theory is redefined through a critique of Polish nationalism and the cult of the glorious past. It becomes a tool of criticizing conservative intelligentsia elite, allegedly suffering from leaning towards imperialist dreams and ambitions of turning Poland into a nation-state based
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on an ethnic model. This double redefinition of post-colonial theory seems to reflect a much more general mechanism, one which shapes the process of adaptation of a large number of Western discourses, in particular that of Western critical theory. In peripheral regions, fields of power are divided by cleavages based on the attitude towards external domination. This duality of applications often turns into interesting conflicts, not only over rules of recontextualization, but also over rules of decontextualization. More specifically, opponents defend their uses of the theory and argue about the “correct” understanding of the original context of its development. Thus, for example, Leszek Koczanowicz argued that: The post-colonial theory did not emerge in order to assign a high rank to some nations than to others, or in order to fulfill conservative’s dreams of return to some utopian unity of the nation which has been destroyed by a conquest. Its essence is emancipation, emancipation from myths imposed by the colonizers, but also from own myths. (Koczanowicz, 2011: 27) In a similar spirit, Dorota Kołodziejczyk wrote about the “subtle hypocrisy of the post-colonial studies”, which have coopted the work of Fanon and other critics of decolonization, but are in fact “anachronistic given their emphasis on the need of recognition of the categories of national (ethnic or racial) identity” (Kołodziejczyk, 2011: 121). Kołodziejczyk argued in particular that: The objective difficulty in distinguishing between chauvinistic, retrograde or simply populist forms of nationalism from a need of regaining or creation of own authenticity and agency which is fundamental for the post-colonial process, has been elevated to a level of universal debate about possibility of thinking about authenticity. Post-colonialism emerged as a critique of European modernity inspired by deconstruction and poststructuralism in general, and we have to be aware of it in transferring it into Polish and East-European context, that it has never been a new great narrative of national liberation. (Kołodziejczyk, 2011: 122) As mentioned above, Claudia Snochowska-Gonzales criticized conservative uses of post-colonial theory in a similar way, and made a more general argument that the theory is imperfect and susceptible to a nationalist take-over. Oskar Szwabowski criticized the conservative application of post-colonial theory and defined the current political cleavage as a conflict between “anti-system proponents of Polish sovereignty” and “people of the system”. Szwabowski saw the main split between the “right” (both PIS and PO) and the left as antinationalistic and emancipatory. He posited that the conservatives’ critique is largely located in the sphere of discourse and does not address issues of systemic economic dependencies. The entire right, as he argued, shared the
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consensus on neo-liberal economic reforms (Szwabowski, 2012). One could note that left liberal applications of post-colonial theory also mostly ignore the economic dimension on international or national scale and focus on the cultural sphere. Both of them tend to psychologize problems, in particular, to see the solution of “post-colonial syndromes” in a radical change in the psychology of their opponents. Several Polish authors criticized post-colonial theory as an over-politicized discourse, which is not able to meet the criteria of “objective” social sciences. One could, however, argue that post-colonial theory may be characterized not as much by its particularly subjective or partisan character as by its overtly political and historical roots. As the variety of applications of post-colonial theory prove, including those with reference to Poland, the theory’s very particular character allows a wide range of applications and does not restrict even contradictory ones. One could even say that post-colonial theory provides a language, in which any thesis could be expresses. Thus, one could argue that post-colonial theory makes the political character of the discourses of social sciences visible. Post-colonial theory is just more overtly politicized than the average academic discourse, while any academic discourse may be seen as politicized. Post-colonial theory is an attractive discourse which seems appealing to many as a way to legitimize the expression of their interests. It may be seen as a tool for making some claims possible to express by linking them to wellrecognized binary oppositions, framed in terms of specific interpretation of historical events that are mostly being a part of the history of Western colonialism. One may argue, that all other social theories are employed in a similar manner, that is, they allow the possibility to “explain” some phenomena by linking them to generalizations of historical processes, observed mostly in Western societies. Thus, one could say that post-colonial theory’s territoriality and historicity show that all social theories and their seemingly universal language are contextual. For some, also in Poland, the overtly historical and political nature of postcolonial theory is, however, so problematic that they attempt to redefine it into a more abstract form. An interesting example of such an endeavor is the concept of “Polish Post-Dependency Discourse”, which has been devised by a group of Polish literary scholars (Nycz, 2011). One of its supporters, Dorota Kołodziejczyk, argues that the “post-dependency narrative” will allow the formation of a model for peripheral adaptation of a Western theory, and, in this way, clear it of the characteristics of a normative, imported, ideal modeltheory (Kołodziejczyk, 2011: 136). One could wonder how successful this attempt at universalization of post-colonial theory will be, when in this way it would be largely deprived of the major part of its symbolic power that is linked with particular canonical texts and authors. What seems also interesting in it, is the reliance on the notion of the “past”, suggesting an intrinsically historical way of interpretation of present social relations. In other words, post-colonial theory may be seen as a school of uses of history, and particularly
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as a way of interpretation of present problems in light of past dependencies. One could note that, on this basis, it may be seen as a particular ideology. In particular, it may appear as one of the ideologies of Eastness, where problems of the East, or the essence of Eastness, are explained in terms of past dependencies and their current, largely negative consequences. This way of looking at social problems may tend to marginalize the role of current dependencies and hierarchies.
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The Kresy (old borderlands) discourse and its critics
The debates on the application of post-colonial theory in Poland, which have been discussed in the previous chapter, can be seen as a key context for more specific discussions on the colonial past of Poland. One of them is the debate on the so-called Kresy, which can be seen both as a name of a specific region and, more broadly, as a name of a specific Polish ideology of Eastness. The Kresy region was the eastern part of the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth, a state which ceased to exist in 1795. Historically, Kresy encompassed a huge territory and had fluid and often changing borders. The control of the state over a large part of Kresy was often illusory and the density of inhabitants very low. From the Polish point of view, Kresy, or “the limits” (the Eastern borders), were an area of conquest. The majority of the region’s inhabitants were not ethnically Polish and Catholicism was a minority denomination, often restricted to a narrow elite. When the region was controlled by the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth or the First Rzeczpospolita, it was under a constant threat of attacks by its “wild” eastern and south-eastern neighbors, foremostly Lithuanians (until the Polish–Lithuanian union), Mongols or Tatars, and later also Turks. Of course, it was and, in some abstract sense, still remains a key area of the contest between Poland and Russian or earlier Muscovy. At the same time, Kresy was the region where the immense fortunes of the wealthiest Polish–Lithuanian aristocratic families were born. Thus, it was a place where sources of affluence for the Polish elite and for the state were located. Because of the wealth and the privileged status of its elite, it was also an important area of Polish cultural production. It gave birth to several key figures and motifs in Polish culture. The creativity of its cultural elites was traditionally seen as emerging from Kresy’s character as a site of confrontation between Polish culture and other cultures, which were simultaneously present both within and outside of this multiethnic region. In short, the region gained a mythical status as a part of Poland, from where most of its bravest heroes came. They were supposedly not only defending Poland against barbarians from the east, but also protecting entire Europe from eastern invasions ranging from Mongolian hordes to the Bolshevik Red Army. Kresy region was therefore a key element in the idea of Poland as being Antemurale Christianis or the Bulwark of Christianity (Tazbir, 1983). Its image has been reinforced
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during the partition period, when a major part of the former Kresy territory became a part of the Russian Empire, while its southern sector was incorporated into the Austrian Empire. The role of the region was still important from the Polish point of view, given the fact that, until 1917, Polish landowners controlled a major part of its fertile lands, despite policies of the Russian Empire, aimed at reducing Polish ownership in the region. Concerted actions of the Russian state to take over the land in the region from the hands of Polish gentry took place predominantly after the failed Polish uprisings from 1830 and 1863. At the same time, the region played an important role as a symbol of national identity in the literary works, created in the second part of the nineteenth century with the intention of reinforcing the Polish patriotic spirit. A key author in this respect was the writer Henryk Sienkiewicz, best known for his Trilogy depicting seventeenth century stories taking place in Kresy at the height of the power of the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth. Major part of the former Kresy became a part of the Soviet Union after the Riga Treaty of 1921. Its remaining smaller segment, which became a part of the inter-war Second Rzeczpospolita, has been divided among its seven eastern voivodships, or administrative regions. The myth of Kresy continued to develop also in reference to the territories, which fell under Soviet control and from which a wave of refugees arrived to Poland after the Bolshevik Revolution. Technically, Kresy ceased to exist as a region under Polish control after the Second World War, when its entire territory was incorporated into the Soviet Union, and most of its Polish inhabitants were expelled while all their property became nationalized. The area of former Kresy has been administratively divided between what were at that time Belarusian, Lithuanian and Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republics. Maybe even more importantly, Kresy also ceased their symbolic existence. Any reference to them was practically forbidden in communist Poland. Banned by censorship, the world “Kresy” disappeared from public discourse, remaining only in literary works from previous periods. Tazbir argues that in the Stalinist period, the main sources of knowledge about the Polish myths of Kresy (the Bulwark of Christianity, etc.) were the novels of nineteenth century writers like Józef Ignacy Kraszewski or Henryk Sienkiewicz who could not be banned by communist censorship because of their prominence in the canons of national culture (Tazbir, 2004: 190). One could note that, in a similar way, many traditional motifs in Russian culture retained their status even under communist rule because of the prominence of such writers as Dostoyevsky or Tolstoy, who could not be entirely removed from the pantheon of Russian culture even in the darkest days of the Stalinist period. Natalia Jakovenko noted that, in the communist period, not only the use of the notion of Kresy was forbidden, but also any research in that area of the former Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth was prohibited for Polish scholars. If they attempted to deal with the region, they usually tried to mask their research and publications under the label “East European studies” (Jakowenko, 2010: 403). Thus, during the communist period, the memory of Kresy and of the Polish presence in the region was relegated to a strictly private sphere, while
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institutionally it was sustained by the Polish diaspora in the West. Most of the diaspora’s commemoration work in respect to Kresy, was conducted in a clearly pathetic and non-reflexive mode. Kresy was a symbol of the lost Polish glory, of ancient pride and of the greatness of the Polish state and culture. On the one hand, no one could have had any realistic hope of regaining even a fraction of that territory for Poland during the communist period. On the other hand, the majority of the Polish diaspora could not imagine a revived free Poland without its former eastern regions, and, in particular, without the cities of Lviv and Vilnius—key intellectual centers not only for Kresy but also for entire Poland. In such context, the ideas of Jerzy Giedroyc´, the leader of the Paris-based Kultura center of the Polish diaspora, could be considered a revolutionary (Korek, 2000). In the 1970s, Giedroyc´, together with his close collaborator Juliusz Mieroszewski, advanced the idea of supporting the national independence movements of Belarus, Lithuania and Ukraine, and defined their sovereignty as an imperative for the geopolitical security of future independent Poland. The Giedroyc´-Mieroszewski project, often referred to as the ULB-program (from the acronym Ukraine–Lithuania–Belarus), was initially met with wide resistance and often called an act of treachery by most conservative members of the Polish diaspora. With time, however, the ULB idea, which had an important element of weakening Russian supremacy over the region by means of depriving Moscow of its control over the three countries, was gaining popularity among not only the Polish diaspora, but also among independent intellectuals in Poland. Eventually, it became a part of the mainstream foreign policy program of the entire anti-communist opposition. Currently, it is widely accepted both by the liberal as well as by the moderate sector of the conservative camp, and serves as one of the backbones of Poland’s foreign policy doctrine. The relatively wide consensus for support of the independence of Belarus, Lithuania and Ukraine, which emerged on the anti-communist side of the Polish political scene and was soon shared by former communists, did not mean that the Kresy idea was completely forgotten. The fall of communism brought a renaissance of interest in Kresy, in particular, within the anti-communist sector of the intellectual field. Already in the last year of the communist rule in Poland, associations of the “lovers of Kresy” were allowed to register as administrative entities and immediately several such institutions emerged. Many Poles started to visit the region. Some of them were equipped with new and reprinted old guidebooks of Kresy. This wave of interest in Kresy seemed quite natural, given the communist ban not only on travel, but also on the presence of the region in public discourses during the entire communist era. However, although, almost no one among these involved in the Kresy revival made any claims regarding the region’s status, and the discussions about possible restitution of properties outside Poland’s contemporary borders were rather marginal due to the formal obligation of the Polish state to pay compensation for properties lost in the east, soon the Kresy discourse was met with criticism and skepticism on both sides of the border, that is, both by the liberal, in particular, left-liberal milieus in
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Poland, and by the countries that currently share parts of historical Kresy. As these critical voices have suggested, recognition of the sovereignty of the Baltic States, Belarus and Ukraine by Poland is incompatible with the use of the notion of Kresy. The latter use, which is an intrinsically Polish way of imagining the area, may imply Polish ambitions to regain control over that territory. In other words, as liberals on both sides of the border suggested, the change of political borders should be reflected in a change of Polish geopolitical, but, also, more general cultural vocabulary, and the notion of Kresy must be abandoned, or relegated to exclusively historical discourses, given the fact that its use may always imply a supposed Polishness of the region. The conservatives resisted these calls and considered them a case of excessive left-liberal political correctness. From a conservative point of view, the use of the notion of Kresy should not imply any political claims to the region. At the same time, in a conservative perspective, the memory of the Polish history of Kresy is a patriotic duty, given the region’s crucial role in the construction of Polish national identity. Moreover, the rejection of the notion of Kresy could be seen as a falsification of the region’s history, and as a marginalization of the role of Polish elements in the images of its past. The conservative literary scholar Bolesław Hadaczek argued against replacing the notion of Kresy by that of a borderland and rhetorically asked “Cui bono?—In whose interest?”— suggesting that opponents of the contemporary uses of the notion may be serving foreign interests (Hadaczek, 2011: 403). The debate of Kresy could be seen as a part of a wider debate regarding the status of the First Rzeczpospolita, which, in fact, produced the notion and the political region called Kresy. The key question here is whether the Polish– Lithuanian Commonwealth should be considered to be an Empire. In case we recognize the “imperial” status of the Commonwealth, its peripheries and, in particular, its regions where Polish culture and Catholicism were shared by a minority of inhabitants, could be seen as colonies. Consequently, the Kresy concept and related discourses could be seen as classic colonial discourses and should be criticized as elements of tools for illegitimate Polish domination over the region. The opposite view, widely shared among Polish conservatives, is that the First Rzeczpospolita was a voluntary union between Poland and Lithuania, and, at the same time, a multicultural state, whose heritage could be seen as being common for all contemporary states existing on the region’s territory. Assuming such a point of view implies, of course, that the notion of Kresy may not be seen as an element of colonial vocabulary, since it refers to the multicultural heritage of the region. Here, we are dealing with an interesting debate on the nature of Polish and Russian forms of imperialism. As far as Polish literature is concerned, Polish colonialism is considered as either “peaceful” or “normal”. In contrast, Russian colonialism is viewed in Poland either as particularly cruel (due to the “barbarian” nature of the Russian and later Soviet Empire) or at least “normal”, that is, similar to Western forms of imperialism. One could note that in Russia itself, Russian expansionism/colonialism is also often considered as uniquely peaceful, based on the process of voluntary
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accessions of smaller states, and as being similar to the expansion of the European Union. One of the most visible defenders of the First Rzeczpospolita against accusations of imperialism is Andrzej Nowak, who, after a careful discussion, generally refutes the thesis of the imperial nature of the Polish– Lithuanian Commonwealth (Nowak, 2004, 2005). In a similar vein, Aleksander Fiut (Fiut, 2003) argues that the First Rzeczpospolita could hardly be called an empire, and proposes to call the process of its expansion a “velvet colonization”. When discussing the expansion of the First Rzeczpospolita, its conservative defenders often emphasize that Poland never killed millions of people as did Western countries in their colonies, or the Soviet Union. At the same time, its aggressive or violent aspects, seen by left-liberals among the intellectuals from zone two countries, are denied or seen as relatively minor, given the context of the historical period. Thus, Jan Kieniewicz argued that: Rzeczpospolita was not conducting any extermination in the Kresy, the system of serfdom was until a certain moment much more human than slavery. Whereas, the borderland was creating a real perspective of inclusion in the project, one completely incomparable to that ‘proposed’ at the same time to the inhabitants of Novgorod by the tsar Ivan. (Kieniewicz, 2006: 21) Bolesław Hadaczek in turn argued that, “Rzeczpospolita has not been colonizing the Kresy by the bloody aggressive wars, by conquest of cruel conquistadors, trading the slaves, plundering and destroying as Spain, Portugal, or England in South and Central America, Africa or India.” (Hadaczek, 2011: 404). For the left-liberal critics, these arguments are not convincing and they usually see the First Rzeczpospolita as a colonial empire attempting to forcefully colonize its minorities, in particular, the ethnic groups in its eastern provinces. The ideology of “Kresy” is, therefore, criticized in the left-liberal discourse as a case of Polish post-imperial discourse. It is depicted as a typical post-colonial nostalgic and idealized image of a former colony. What is often questioned by the left-liberals, are images of peaceful, multicultural idyllic rural land with the Polish culture as the dominant one. The symbolic Polonization of the region and the marginalization of other cultures has been criticized by them, just as has been the reproduction of visions of superiority of Polish culture over Belarusian, Lithuanian, Jewish, Ukrainian cultures (Russian culture is usually ignored by the critics). Other aspects of the idealized images of Kresy, usually deconstructed as myths by the left-liberals, include the idealization of social relations based on a hierarchical feudal order with Polish or Polonized aristocracy at the very top and peasants in actual slavery at the bottom of that hierarchy. In short, the Kresy discourse has been declared by its critics a classic form of Polish orientalism. The Kresy debate had a wider resonance, since it is closely related to the debate on the republican myths of the First Rzeczpospolita. What is at stake here is, in particular, an idealization of the First Polish–Lithuanian
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Commonwealth as a multicultural republic. The attitudes towards it are clearly linked to the dominant political cleavage in Poland, although the politicization of this question is not extreme, and debates in the intellectual field on these historical issues often clearly reveal some degree of autonomy from the political logic. Nevertheless, we can note a tendency in the conservative side of the broadly defined field of power to refer to the heritage of the First Rzeczpospolita as a specifically Polish source of civic values, pride and cultural uniqueness. Conversely, the liberals, in particular left-liberals, tend to see the heritage of the Fist Rzeczpospolita as largely anti-modern and currently abused by the Polish right as a basis for nationalist narratives. At the same time, for left-liberals, the legacy of the First Rzeczpospolita is largely negative in terms of creating a path-dependent process of Poland’s marginalization, which until today reproduces the impression of its backwardness. Looking from the conservative pole, we could accuse left-liberals of orientalizing the heritage of the First Rzeczpospolita and of presenting it as anti-modern, largely “eastern”, non-European, that is, illegitimate historical narrative. From such a point of view, we could say that the positive uses of the heritage of the First Rzeczpospolita can be seen as an “ideology of Eastness” on the part of Poland. In this ideology, its “eastern legacy” is redefined as a positive inspiration for modernization of the country in ways adapted to Poland’s cultural specificity. On the other hand, looking from the left-liberal side, uses of the First Rzeczposolita’s heritage may appear as dangerous attempts of rejecting Western enlightenment values and of building a nationalist counter-narrative of Polish neo-imperial identity. It may produce a conviction in Poland’s superiority over its eastern neighbors, which are treated in an orientalist way in this perspective. The image of Kresy, which emerges from such debates, is almost fully dependent on opinions regarding the heritage of the political system of the First Rzeczpospolita. Kresy appears as the most contested and, at the same time, most symbolic product of the First Rzeczpospolita. Attitudes to ideals of both these historical concepts are again strongly related to the position of authors in the contemporary intellectual field, structured by the fundamental liberal-conservative cleavage, which is defined by the attitude towards Western domination. For the entire conservative segment of the Polish intellectual field and for a large part of its liberal sector, the ideals of the First Rzeczpospolita remain an important and very positive point of reference for a wide spectrum of debates on the country’s modernization. They are a source of Polish pride but, at the same time, what is not always recognized by left-liberals, they define Poland’s belonging to the Western civilizational sphere. Moreover, they involve a vision of a special Polish role in spreading Western civilization eastwards. Polish historian Andrzej Sulima-Kamin´ski argued, for example, that, “If only the partitions of Poland would not have taken place, two centuries of co-existence in a civil society, coupled with the universal victory of the Union (Uniate Church), would move the border of the West as far as Dniepr” (Sulima-Kamin´ski, 2000: 212). As usual in the Polish field of power,
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representatives of both sides of the main axis of conflict perceive the discourse of their opponents as hegemonic. Thus, for many liberal critics of the Kresy discourse, it constitutes a dominant mode of imagining the region in contemporary Poland. Bogusław Bakuła argued, for example, that: The “Borderlands” seen in this perspective become after all that which is most Polish, although – and precisely because – they have been lost, that which ennobles ex definitione everyone who talks about them. And conversely – any criticism encounters a sharp reaction and even the accusation of betraying the nation. (Bakuła, 2007: 22) Bakuła also argues that in view of the Polish mainstream reading of history, anyone who talks in a melancholic way about Kresy is a “true Pole”, while those who do not share that melancholy may feel excluded from this dominant definition of Polishness. On the opposite, conservative pole of the Polish intellectual field, there is, however, a contrary feeling and a widespread conviction that the myth of Kresy is depreciated in contemporary mainstream public discourses. This is, for example, how Jerzy Marek Nowakowski commented on the publication of one of many melancholic Kresy albums, published in Poland recently: Publishing a book entitled ‘History of Kresy’ (Dzieje Kresów) required a considerable courage from the Kraków-based Kluszczyn´ski Publishing House already at the stage of a deciding on the title ( … ) History of Kresy is a part of contemporary discussion on the enlargement of the European Union and about the opening of the labor market for our neighbors from the east. History of Kresy is explaining the economic and civilizational success of Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia. Finally, the history of Kresy is proving that European aspirations of Ukraine or Belarus have indeed strong foundations. (Nowakowski, 2006: 166) For Barbara Fedyszak-Radziejowska the memory of Kresy and its identity is rapidly fading as it is cultivated only by very small and weak grassroots organizations. As she argues, this is very much in contrast to the situation in Germany, where the memory of the former Eastern provinces is supported by large and state-subsidized organizations (Fedyszak-Radziejowska, 2012). Another author from the conservative sector, Krzysztof Rak, perceives that the positive contemporary Polish memory of the Kresy and the First Rzeczpospolita is being under ruthless liberal attack, which, for him, represents a continuation of the efforts of Poland’s historical oppressors to destroy Polish pride. As he argues: propaganda of the nineteenth century occupants (zaborcy) has set as its goal to eradicate from the memory of Poles the fact that they used to be a
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When looking at the conservative image of Kresy, we should emphasize the idea behind that image as representing a unique Polish project of employing “eastern” cultural inspirations for the development of what should be considered an essentially Western-oriented path of development and modernization. The Kresy project may thus be seen as the essence of Polish creativity, agency, and ability to contribute to a wider European community via involvement in an original political and cultural project, inspired by several non-European threads. Therefore, in conservative discourses we find a characteristic insistence in regards to the intrinsically European and, at the same time, creative character of Kresy. The historian Jan Kieniewicz argues, for example, that Kresy are not an imitative project, on the contrary, there are for him a creative development contributing to European culture (Kieniewicz, 2006: 21). The Kresy in the conservative perspective are also seen as a form of (Western) European mythology that helps Poland to maintain its resistance to Russian colonialism. Bolesław Hadaczek defines them as: a huge reservoir of the spiritual energy of Poles. This is where the roots of our contemporary and future actions and desires lie, of our ‘normalcies’ and pathologies ( … ) The Kresy heritage should inspire the nations which once lived in the single Rzeczpospolita in finding better common understanding and to the examination of conscience ( … ) Kresy-character (Kresowos´c´) as a component of mentality forces one to get rid of xenophobia, to distance oneself from cosmopolitanism without roots and from relativism. (Hadaczek, 2011: 401) Such views on Kresy’s heritage as a version of Polish European identity and a discourse of Polish originality can be traced in the accounts of several other authors. Felix Gross, for example, presented a vision of Kresy with a strong emphasis on their inhabitants’ attitudes as being more liberal and open towards ethnic or religious differences, or more generally tolerant than average Poles (Gross, 1978). Christoph Kleßmann and Robert Traba noted a similar tendency of idealizing the “eastern soul” of Kresy by describing it as more tolerant and adapted to a multicultural environment because of its
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constant contact with the non-Polish “other”. They found this idealist view of the identity of the inhabitants of Eastern Poland to be well visible in the writings of Ryszard Kapus´cin´ski (Kleßmann and Traba, 2012: 58). The prominent Polish historian Aleksander Gieysztor saw Poland as located between the West and the East, siding with the West, but remaining open to the acceptance and transmission of ideas and people, remaining open even towards Muscovy and south-east Europe. He argued that exactly such characteristics of Poland are most clearly visible in Kresy’s identity (Gieysztor, 1996: 32). As I have already mentioned above, Kresy was a region of relatively high diversity in terms of cultures, religions and languages. Moreover, so called “ethnic” Poles, that is, the inhabitants of the region using Polish as their primary language, were usually a minority. Another characteristic trait of the Kresy region was its social structure based on the dominant role of the noble elite. The noble elite did not always have Polish ethnic roots but with time most of its members adopted Polish as their langue and Catholicism as their religion. Subordinated to the elite were poorer petty gentry of both Polish and nonPolish culture, as well as sparse bourgeoisie with strong Jewish and German elements. At the bottom of the social ladder were peasant masses, usually held in serfdom. Moreover, the majority of the peasant population of Kresy was Orthodox and its native tongue was not Polish. How the social system of Kresy really functioned, is seen in two radically different ways by scholars located respectively in the two opposite sectors of the intellectual field. The representatives of the conservative side consistently argue that Kresy was a successful melting-pot of cultures and languages, thus, constituting a successful project of building a harmonious and relatively democratic social system within the multi-national Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth. One of the landmarks of the Rzeczpospolita is seen in its political system based on nobility democracy and on a network of regional parliaments, granting equal vote to all nobleman, irrespectively of their economic status. In the perspective of its supporters, Rzeczposolita, being a country governed by an elected monarch, stands out in Europe of its times as an unusually democratic state. Thus, its enthusiasts see the quasi-republican system of the Commonwealth as a precursor to democracy and tolerance in Europe, or even, given the commonage character of the Polish–Lithuanian union state, as a forefather of the European Union. This conservative image of the First Rzeczpospolita is used to legitimize the claims of uniqueness of Polish democratic traditions as well as legitimize Polish discourses on Kresy as a part of the inspiring heritage of the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth. One has to emphasize that for the majority of the conservatives these idealizations do not translate into any direct political or legal claims to the territories of Kresy. Instead, such interpretations can be linked to a support of the sovereignty of the regions’ current states. Their political forces, demanding democratic reforms and full independence from Russia, are seen in such a perspective as heirs of the democratic heritage of the First Rzeczpospolita. Their “spirit of freedom”, which was, for example, seen in the Ukrainian Orange revolution of 2004 by most of the Polish conservatives
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as well as by mainstream liberals, is thus recognized as being programmed by the history of Ukraine and marked by its noble democracy. This largely Polish-built legacy supposedly allows the states of zone two to resist the pressures of the oppressive Russian Empire. Tomasz Mizerkiewicz, for example, saw Sarmatian, i.e. Polish noblemen, traditions being activated during the “Orange Revolution”. These elements allegedly manifested themselves in the form of a “democratic code”, adopted by the popular movement (Mizerkiewicz, 2011). Such a view of Kresy can be seen as inscribed into a set of fundamental oppositions, on which the conservative vision of Polish modern national identity is built. The scheme assumes that Poland, as a direct heir of the First Rzeczpospolita, is the land of the free, a bulwark of democracy in the entire region, and a willing supporter of all oppressed nations, fighting for freedom in Central and Eastern Europe. On the other hand, we see Russia as being the eternal enemy not only of Poland, but of freedom and democracy in the entire Euro-Asia. Russia is seen here as a historically totalitarian and aggressive state. Russian character and mentality are imagined as diametrically opposed to Polish psyche. Russians are supposed to be characterized by Asian conformism and collectivism, absolutely incompatible with Polish individualism and love of freedom, which could be characterized as intrinsically European or Western values. This opposition may be expressed in different forms but it is basically shared across the whole spectrum of the Polish political scene. Thus, if any visions of the Polish–Russian cooperation appear in the Polish political scene at all, they are usually presented in strongly pragmatic terms and justified by a lack of alternatives, or simply as a result of “force majeure” originating in Russia’s unrivaled hegemony (as the communist submission to the Soviet Union or the cooperation of Polish liberal “realists” of the late nineteenth century with Tsarist Russia), or are restricted to specific areas and/or milieus (as, for example, the cooperation between anti-communist dissidents from both countries). What is rather unthinkable in the context of the abovediscussed definition of Poland’s “Europeanness” is any form of Polish–Russian strategic alliance, in particular, one which would have any aspect of opposition to Western dominance. Let us return to the question of Kresy. Its idealistic vision, summarized above and reproduced in different versions and degrees of idealization by conservativeoriented scholars and right-liberals, is systematically challenged by left-liberals. Interestingly, one of the most prominent critics of the idealistic visions of Kresy and the First Rzeczpospolita, is the prominent French historian Daniel Beauvois. Beauvois authored several in-depth studies examining the nineteenth century history of the former eastern regions of the First Rzeczpospolita, that is, the period during which these regions belonged to the Russian Empire (e.g. Beauvois, 1985, 1993, 2003). Beauvois demonstrated the complexity of the political and social relations during the times of Russian rule in Kresy. He constantly emphasized how different is the image of the region, emerging from his systematic empirical research, from the idealized images reproduced by Polish social memory and shaped by the descendants of the region’ noble
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families, as well as from other idealized images produced in Russia or countries of the region. Beauvois argues, in particular, that a harmony of multiculturalism never existed in Kresy. As he contends, modern Poles are harming and antagonizing their eastern neighbors by maintaining the Kresy myth. Beauvois declared in particular: I’m amazed by the fact that even descendants of peasants and workers are choosing the landowners’ tradition, being ashamed of their own. The noble democracy (demokracja szlachecka) is more and more often presented as an example of civil society in Poland. But how can one talk about civil society if at the local nobility assembles (sejmiki) at which representatives of the ‘political nation’ that is the nobility were chosen less than 5% of the eligible voters were present. Maybe the 15th century ideals of the system which was later called the Noblemen Republic (Rzeczpospolita Szlachecka) were good: they restricted the power of the king, they introduced the mechanism of control, they were mobilizing a large social group. But the practice proved to be completely different which is best manifested by all the 17th century. ( … ) All thus is a falsification of history, or at least its mythologization. (Beauvois, 2006a) Beauvois expressed similar position in several other publications and interviews (e.g. Beauvois, 1994). The positive ideal of the First Rzeczpospolita, according to Beauvois, represents a “clear misrepresentation of reality” or a “myth stronger than reality”, to quote just some of his formulations. Beauvois is followed by numerous Polish scholars, such as Bogusław Bakuła (Bakuła, 2007), Kacper Szulecki (Szulecki, 2010) and Jan Sowa (Sowa, 2011). They, in particular, criticize the myth of harmony between cultures in Kresy, and question the image of Kresy as multicultural melting pot. The critics often suggest that the inter-cultural relations in the region were mostly oppressive, and that we have no grounds to call historic Kresy a region of cultural and religious pluralism and dialogue. What liberal authors usually emphasize, is that the inhabitants of these lands were alien to their Polish or Polonized elites in all possible respects, including ethnic, linguistic, and religious dimensions. The dialogue between different groups was “fake”, while pluralism was only “apparent”. Therefore, the idealized image of Kresy is, as, for example, Szulecki argues, based on emotions replacing truth, on ideologized knowledge, and on feeling of cultural and moral superiority. Bakuła, in turn, assigns to the Kresy discourse such characteristics as “nostalgia, paternalism and idealization”. Hanna Gosk identified a binary vision of the social world, on which all literary texts on Kresy that she analyzed were based, irrespectively of the degree of their criticism towards the Polish role, played in the region (Gosk, 2008). The Kresy images Gosk reconstructed had, on the one hand, such positive and interrelated elements as Western Europe, the Polish manor house,
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Polish Catholicism, Polish language as a carrier of higher culture, the consciousness of ancient tradition and a historical mission, which taken together appear to legitimize the right to that land. On the other side were the barbarian Russians, Tatar East, the backward Ruthenian countryside, Orthodoxy, peasant dialects, the weak historical identity, the underdeveloped individual identity, fragmented cultural worlds rather than coherent social structures (Gosk, 2008: 33). Gosk’s penetrating critical analysis of the classic Kresy discourse is, at the same time, an illustration of one of the blind spots of most of the liberal critics. This blind spot can be identified with what has been called in this book the dependence doxa. This is well visible in her analysis of a text from the inter-war period, in which a conversation between three symbolic persons is taking place. The encounter took place in a location in present day Ukraine, at that time belonging to Poland. The three persons included a Frenchmen, a Polish journalist and a Ukrainian peasant. The peasant who has mastered basic French in a Polish public school is presented to the French visitor by the Polish journalist. The Pole does it with a clearly discernible pride, boasting about the progress of Polish modernization efforts in the sphere of education. Interestingly, in Gosk’s interpretation of that scene, the Polish journalist is defined as a “possessor of the dominant discourse” (Gosk, 2008: 35). Gosk does not even try to propose an interpretation, in which both Pole and Ukrainian could be seen as subalterns in relation to the Western visitor, in front of whom they are both trying to stage a spectacle by proving their Western credentials. Alternatively, the Pole may be seen as using his Ukrainian subordinate to prove his own European credentials to the Frenchmen. The credentials could be defined as the ability of the Polish state to educate Ukrainian peasants not only in Polish, but also in French, that is, in Western culture. Gosk’s way of interpretation of the power relations in Kresy seems to be characteristic for many other liberal scholars that are critical of the Kresy discourse. Their tendency to ignore the wider international perspective of multilevel hierarchies of power and status, in which the entire region of Central and Eastern Europe is entangled, may be seen as manifestation of what I called earlier the dependence doxa, that is, the naturalization of the symbolic, economic and political dominance of the Western core over the entire region. What all these critics of the Kresy discourse argue, is that it excludes the “others” by ignoring images of the region, produced by its non-Polish inhabitants. Bogusław Bakuła argues that even the very label of “Kresy”, which can be translated as “limits”, excludes others (Bakuła, 2007). One can note that Bakuła’s call to avoid all words suggesting that the region may be located “far from the center”, as is the case with Kresy, may be seen as a manifestation of the taboo of pointing to a region’s peripheral status in contemporary political and intellectual discourses. This may be related to the problem of the taboo of discussing socially created hierarchies, examined in the first chapter of this book. Thus, the political incorrectness of the Kresy label would be identified not only with its national, predominately Polish character, but also with its reference to center-periphery hierarchies. In any case, the liberal critics of the
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Kresy discourse, like Bogusław Bakuła, are calling for a “common” reading of the region, one which would include the voices of all those who have any interest in the region, without any exclusions. What they see in the conservative Kresy discourse, which is focused on the Polish heritage in the region, is “Polonization of the multinational historical heritage”. For Bakuła, the notion of “Kresy” is politically incorrect since the inhabitants of the region do not wish that their land be called in this way. One could note that this argument seems to be based on an assumption that the region’s inhabitants are not only uniform in their opinions, but also highly concerned about the ways it is imagined in Poland. Another assumption would be that the relations between Poland and these countries are a political priority, to which Polish discourses should be adapted. Moreover, these critics suggest that the Kresy discourse is a “mode of possession” of the territories in question. Bakuła, in particular, argued that the Kresy expert discourse (Kresoznawstwo) may be seen as a mode of reestablishing lost power in Kresy or a way of possessing Kresy. In other words, it can be called a “symbolic Polish colonialism”. Bakuła contrasts it with what he sees as being a positive way of referring to history in the Habsburg myth of Galicia, which, according to him, is “free of revindicative traits”. After declaring that the Kresy discourse may be seen as a mode of possession of the region, liberal authors usually move on to questioning the legitimization of such an act. Jan Sowa, for instance, states that Kresy was never Polish, and that, in effect, Poles can claim no right whatsoever to it. Szulecki asks “can a mere presence (on these territories) justify any claims” (Szulecki, 2010). At the same time, he declares the non-existence of Kresy, which as he argues, “belong to the past”. Bakuła also argues that Poland does not have any historical rights to these lands. These declarations by liberal authors may be seen as related to their fear of the imperial and nationalistic inclinations of their conservative opponents. Conservatives, at the same time, often decline to have any territorial claims towards Kresy and insist that their interest in the region is focused on the Polish cultural and historical heritage as well as on the remaining Polish communities in the region. Moreover, most Kresy-lovers’ associations emphasized that they should not be identified with German “exile associations” which may have made calls for restitution of lands that are currently being a part of Poland. What the Kresy associations usually declare is the intention to include the remaining heritage and memory of Kresy in the Polish canons of culture (Fuszara, 2012). Even such intentions are, however, suspicious for some of the liberals. A journalist from Gazeta Wyborcza, Marcin Wojciechowski, declared that by allowing what he sees as “the cult of Kresy” in Poland: maybe we are unconsciously breeding our own exile’s association which may in the future make as much harm in our relation with neighbors in the East, as Erika Steinbach with Germany. One should once again turn to works of Daniel Beauvois and seriously follow his trope. I don’t believe
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Bakuła suggests a hidden, but more or less conscious, goal of the Kresy discourse which targets the region’s symbolic possession. He also refers to Said and reminds that the Orientalist claims that British literature offered when producing its biased images of the Orient were, in fact, in service of the British state. One could note that these critical statements could lead to conclusions that Poles should not even try to discuss the region of former Kresy, to use that label, or to refer to any specifically Polish perspective on it. Such view could be theoretically supported by claims that any form of talking about any object involves at least aspirations of its control and, in effect, may lead to its symbolic possession. This is, however, not what they imply. The very same liberal authors do allow some Polish voices, not only themselves, to discuss the region. Those allowed to discuss the region include, first of all, figures like Jerzy Giedroyc´, Jacek Kuron´ or Czesław Miłosz who are seen as architects of the reconciliation between Poland and the nations of zone two, and as contributors to the “normalization” of Poland’s relations with its Eastern neighbors. On the other hand, the conservative discourses on Kresy, as Bakuła argues, “make the dialogue between Polish culture and the others difficult and in effect is weakening its positions” (Bakuła, 2007). He calls for “rational explanations of experiences of all subjects of history of Kresy, in the platform different than the tribal solidarity”, supposedly characteristic for conservative discourses. Here, we see that the key questions refer to the problem of defining “the rational platform” of discussions on Kresy. In Bakuła’s approach, the “rationality” of production of images of the area of former Kresy may be violated not only by Polish conservatives but also by nonPolish actors. He gives the example of George Grabowicz who, in his Mythologizing Lviv (Grabowicz, 2000), went too far, in Bakula’s view, since he almost completely marginalized Poles in his vision of Lviv. In other words, what seems to be at stake in this confrontation is how to define the “rational” proportions between different voices taking part in the debate on the region of former Kresy. This is also the larger question regarding the regulation of different modes of multiculturalism, i.e. a question of defining what “real” multiculturalism is and how it differs from the “fake” Kresy multiculturalism. Other related issues could be defined in terms of questions like what is “a true, real, contact with the other”, “real dialogue”, “true pluralism”, etc. Liberal critics of the Kresy discourse usually grant dominant or even unique right for constructing images of these territories to their “titular” nations, to use the old Soviet term. Thus, these are “Belarusians”, “Lithuanians” and “Ukrainians”, who, in liberal view, should be privileged in the production of post-Kresy discourses relating to each country’s respective part of the historical territory. Such directives usually indirectly assume uniformity of the national discourses of the Belarusian, Lithuanian or Ukrainian intellectual scene. Thus, for example,
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Bakuła argues that “Stanisław Lem’s Highcastle: A Remembrance (Wysoki Zamek) is one of the few Polish novels set in Lviv or Galicia to be accepted by Ukrainian readers” (Bakuła, 2007). Bakuła seems confident enough to decide what the “Ukrainian readers” like and to represent their interests, and even political views in the Polish intellectual scene. This seems to be a typical way of constructing the figures of “Belarusians” or “Ukrainians” that is based on reduction of the complexity of the intellectual scenes of these countries to uniform voices, represented in Poland by the liberal authors. As it seems, the legitimate voices from these countries, in most cases, come from a narrow group of more or less liberal intellectuals who maintain close contacts with their Polish counterparts. This specific configuration of transnational contacts is, of course, very similar to patterns of interaction between Western academia and the intellectual fields of Central Europe, which have been analyzed in the above mentioned works by Merje Kuus. In this way, usually most conservative and nationalist voices are excluded, on the one hand, while, on the other hand, the whole spectrum of the post-communist left and all those in favor of alliances or cooperation with Russia are dismissed. At the same time, most Polish authors arguing for a “true-dialogue” and “real pluralism” of discussions on Kresy exclude from it representatives of Russia, both modern and historical. Numerous aspects of Russian presence in the region, ranging from the heritage of the Russian Empire’s 100-year control over a major part of Kresy to the contemporary presence of Russian minorities all over the region, are usually considered as dimensions of non-legitimate occupation of these territories. What is characteristic in Polish critiques of the Kresy discourse is that they include calls for interest in the heritage of not only titular nations but also of such minorities as Armenians, Jews or Tatars. Russian voices are usually not mentioned, sometimes with the exception of the Old Believers. Even when the Jewish heritage is concerned, the emphasis is put on the role and memory of the traditional Yiddish-speaking communities, including Polonized Jews, while the heritage of the Russian-speaking Jews, for example, the so called Litvaks, appears substantially less interesting not only for the researchers of Kresy Jews but also for those who study Jewish history in the entire Polish lands. What is also paradoxical is that liberal critics of the Kresy discourse often include accusations of “lack of interest” in other, non-Polish cultures of Kresy. We could note that on one level liberals condemn conservatives for their interest in the region in general. Liberals suggest that conservatives should look rather at their own national territory and avoid moving their gaze to the “lost” territories, as such intellectual adventures may be risky in terms of stimulating nationalistic feelings and antagonizing Poland’s eastern neighbors. At the same time, liberal critics are often no less focused on that supposedly non-Polish region. They seem to consider their own interest in the region as neutral and devoid of nationalist proclivities. This interest is presented as not focused on the Polish heritage and as open to non-Polish voices, especially to those of the liberal intellectuals who represent the titular nations, and, therefore, are fully legitimate in contrast to conservative discourses on Kresy.
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One could also note that attempts of historical justification of the current political arrangement in the region, mentioned above, may appear problematic. Beauvois declares, for example, that “the only legitimate heirs of that zone are Belarusians, Lithianians and Ukrainians” (Beauvois, 2006a). In such context, one could ask how we should define the rules for historical legitimization of the rights of specific national groups to certain territories. How should we distinguish between mere “presence” on a given territory and its legitimate possession? Given the complexity of the history of the region and the numerous border changes, distinctions between “legitimate” and “illegitimate” rulers at particular times could be difficult. As, for example, Timothy Snyder shows, the very complex mechanisms of development of modern nations states in the region also involved changing alliances between elites of particular states, nations, religious denominations or political movements as those of communists or socialists (Snyder, 2003). Thus, as it seems, justifying the rights of the titular elites to exert control over particular territories of Central and Eastern Europe in terms of historical or ethnic criteria may be highly problematic. Using them would probably undermine Poland’s right to much of its current territory including former German lands, in particular, former Eastern Prussia. Russian control over the northern part of the region, known now as Kaliningrad Oblast, would be also delegitimized just as probably Polish control over the eastern part of the Podlasie region, dominated by an Orthodox population. One could, thus, argue that liberal critics are not only claiming privileged access to Polish “uses” of the former Kresy area and, more generally, to uses of its history, but also use this privileged access as a tool to legitimize the privileged rights of liberal elites of Belarus, Lithuania and Ukraine (presented as representatives of entire nations) to shape images of the history of their own countries. At the same time, liberal critiques of the Kresy discourse legitimize their own privileged right to produce images of the region in the Polish intellectual field that establish their role of intermediaries building friendly relations with Poland’s eastern neighbors. In this way, they present what they suggest, directly or indirectly, are the most effective ways of both influencing the elites of these countries and minimizing Russian influences in the area. One can also note here the mechanism through which the liberal critics of the Kresy discourse build their credentials in the eyes of liberal elites of neighboring countries. Authors like Bakuła or Szulecki are modeling themselves as defenders of the “Borderland Nations” against Polish nationalists/ conservatives. At the same time, by relying on the ULB concept or the Giedroyc´ Doctrine, they delegitimize Russian rights to the region. One can note, however, that the resonance of these actions is largely restricted to the Polish intellectual field, in which most of the stakes are located. The multidimensional Russian presence, ranging from Russian troops being stationed in Belarus, the presence of Russian capital, or Russian Orthodox Church to the widespread popularity of Russian media and pop-culture all over the former Kresy region, is hardly impacted by the Polish intellectual debates. They, in
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fact, have little influence on the political and cultural life of the countries under discussion, where the presence of Polish culture tends to decrease after a period of relative popularity in the late communist era, as will be discussed with more details in Chapter 9. The main points of reference for the organization of political scenes and cultural process of the countries of the region are mostly Russia and the West. In cases when relations with Poland appear indeed as being important elements of a wider political debate, the critical voice of Polish left-liberal intellectuals is not often well heard. A good case in point is the Polish–Lithuanian tension concerning the rights of the Polish minority in Lithuania. In that case, the liberal Polish foreign minister confronted Lithuanian authorities and adapted a harsh stance, in some ways a much more decisive one than that of his main opponent—the conservative president Kaczyn´ski. When specific privileges of the Polish minority in Lithuania, like the rules of functioning of Polish schools, appeared under a threat, and the demands of the Polish government for upholding the right to maintain the original Polish spelling of family names in Lithuanian documents, or the right to bilingual street names in localities with large Polish resident populations, were ignored, the Polish liberal government adapted a tough stance, which led to a tangible cooling of Polish–Lithuanian relations. In this way, the low relevance of the Polish debates on Kresy and of the liberal critics’ efforts at establishing a dialogic cultural partnership, was well exposed. Poland’s priority is clearly the maintenance of Polish influences in the area, which is implemented both through liberal as well as more conservative discourses serving as legitimizations. Compromises concerning this priority are possible only with the liberal, Western-oriented national elites of the neighboring countries, and they have to be clearly legitimized by their results as far as the restriction of Russian interests in the area is concerned. Thus, one could distinguish between symbolic politics with reference to the region inside Poland and the “real foreign policy” of Poland. The relations between them, however, do exist. In particular, one could claim that liberal critics of the conservative Kresy discourse, contrary to what they may suggest, are not acting in a political void. Their calls for relative “depolonization” of the Kresy discourse may also be viewed just as another attempt to reinforce its place in the Polish identity discourse, as well as to reinforce Polish influences in the region, this time, however, in a way which would be acceptable to at least a major part of the liberal elites of these counties. One of the important goals of liberals, after all, is to make Polish voices heard and accepted in the neighboring countries. Therefore, from a liberal point of view, it would be theoretically more advantageous for Poland to have a clear influence on the production of knowledge of present day Belarus, Lithuania and Ukraine, even at the price that such knowledge would have to be critical towards the Polish past/ heritage in the region. While conservatives would usually accuse the liberals of betrayal of national interests and, in particular, of abandoning the idea of Kresy as a cultural value, liberals in most cases aim at a redefinition of national interests and the means of their implementation. A good case in point is the debate
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on the “Museum of Kresy”. Let me quote the historian Krzysztof Jasiewicz, who criticized the conservative project of the museum. As he argued: this particular idea, in this particular shape, will harm the strategic interest of the Polish state and may radically worsen relations with our eastern neighbors. Until today, the very notion Kresy increases emotions and is treated as a manifestation of Polish movement toward the east. (Jasiewicz, 2009: A26) Jasiewicz found the conservative project of a Museum of Kresy to be unacceptable because of its highly politicized character. On the other hand, one of the main proponents of the Museum of Kresy, the conservative philosopher Ryszard Legutko, argued that liberal visions should be seen as ideological, as they try, for example, to present it in terms of multiculturalism. For Legutko, multiculturalism is an American concept, which largely boils down to the idea of peaceful coexistence. As Legutko argues, however, the “true” idea of Kresy is much more complex, and non-reducible to the simple idea of political cooperation between different groups entering into dialogue (Legutko, 2008). Bolesław Hadaczek criticizes the liberal discourse on Kresy in a very similar way. As he argues: Postmodernists, relaying on axiological relativism would like to debate Kresy without the national perspective, which they consider as stereotypical and unoriginal. They would like to free the Kresy problem from the historical context and from the national memory, which they like to replace with ‘cultural memory’, a universe of signs without any reference and a space of unrestricted creations. By reinterpreting, moving meanings they create a new language (a newspeak). They try to prove that the Kresy theme is anachronistic and ahistorical, even if this is a ‘creative anachronism’. They underpin their statements with numerous quotations form avant-garde philosophers, arguing that the more we know about Kresy, the less we know as the memory is fallible. At the same time they do not recognize the basic corpse of the works written over the ages from the perspective of the Polish Kresy community. (Hadaczek, 2011: 403) Moreover, conservatives accuse liberals of serving the interest of zone two nationalists by supporting the redefinition of what is, in their view, a common heritage of the First Rzeczpospolita, into separated heritages of modern nation states which emerged in the region much later. Bolesław Hadaczek, in particular, protested against what he saw as a takeover of Polish literary classics by countries of zone two and insisted on treating the heritage of Kresy as a common one (Hadaczek, 2011). The idea of “common heritage”, for many liberals and especially representatives of zone two countries, is usually read as an implicit attempt of Polonizaton of the Kresy heritage, since the ways
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of its “common” perception will be always defined by the Polish-dominated legacy of the First Rzeczpospolita. As mentioned earlier, what seems more important than the question of modes of Polish control over the former Kresy is the debate over the heritage of the First Rzeczpospolita and its potential as a basis for defining specific forms of Polish civil society, social hierarchies and values. Left-liberal critics see uses of the heritage by the conservatives as a way of legitimization of some forms of Polish nationalism and as a pretext for rejecting some of the key influences of the Western civic and political culture in Poland. The legacy of the Fist Rzeczpospolita, which is often identified with the so called Sarmatian ideology of the gentry referring to the gentry’s own representation of themselves as descendants of the elite of mythical Sarmatians, is thus seen as a hidden anti-Western and conservative ideology. The efforts of the left-liberals are thus concentrated at delegitimizing what is considered a harmful myth of the First Rzeczpospolita. One aspect of these liberals’ efforts is its deconstruction as a false myth. An excellent example of a liberal critique, aimed at the deconstruction of the First Rzeczpospolita myth, is a recent book entitled The Phantom Body of the King (Fantomowe ciało króla) by Jan Sowa (Sowa, 2011). Sowa, writing about the heritage of the First Rzeczpospolita, argues that: Poland never had anything to offer to Europe. The specifically Polish pattern of statehood proved to be rather a pattern of lack of statehood. It was not a proposition which anyone except ideologically blinded Poles would treat as a viable alternative for other systems ( … ) That system was considered to be an oddity which cannot exist for long time. ( … ) Unique features of the Polish civil sphere are pettifogging, factiousness, negatively understood anarchy which is steaming from the traditions of the democracy of nobility, envy and penchant for intrigues, corruption, as well as xenophobia. (Sowa, 2011: 526) In other words the heritage of the First Rzeczpospolita is not only useless but even harmful. Interestingly, Sowa is referring to Wallerstain’s world-system theory. His use of it is, however, specific. It legitimizes the accusation of Rzeczpospolita’s aristocratic elites of most of the sins that contributed to the marginalization of Poland on the map of Europe and the eventual disappearance of the country. Wallerstein and several Polish historians, as Wiktor Kula (Kula, 1976), have indeed assigned a large part of the responsibility for Poland’s decline in the seventeenth century and its eventual assumption of a subordinated, semi-peripheral position in the then emerging world system, to the elite of Polish nobility. The latter has been presented as a comprador class and accused of marginalization of the bourgeoisie. As a result, a wider effect of marginalization of the entire region has occurred. The region has acquired a role of a supplier of natural resources and primary goods as well as of cheap labor, a role which, according to some analysts, it basically plays until today.
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This was also a period when the wider dependency of the region on the Western core has emerged. As Anna Sosnowska reminds us, Wiktor Kula suggested that the symbolic prestige of the nobility has resulted in petty and middle nobility’s concentration on imitating aristocratic lifestyles, and, in a wider sense, on following social roles contradictory to their “objective” economic interest (Sosnowska, 2004: 289). One of the visible effects of this process was the underdevelopment of cities, in particular, in the eastern part of the country. For critics as Sowa, this historical argument is a reason for condemning most of the ideals of the First Rzeczpospolita, including its democratic and egalitarian myths, which are seen as sources of the country’s collapse. This seems to be a manifestation of a more general tendency of left-liberals to blame the weaker, peripheral actor for falling into the trap of dependency. In a way, Sowa uses world-system theory and post-colonial theory to blame the victims of the system for their miserable fate. Moreover, Sowa argues that the partitions of Poland at the end of the eighteenth century were in a way justified, as they were only a form of legal confirmation of Poland’s death, which, as he suggests, happened much earlier. One of the reasons of Poland’s disappearance from the map of Europe as a “real” state was, in Sowa’s view, its inability to build an absolute monarchy. After the death of the last representative of the Jagiellon dynasty, this inability made the country what Sowa calls a “phantom body of the king”. Using the language of psychoanalysis, Sowa argued that the partitions of Poland could be interpreted as a “castration”, which after a period of 100 years allowed Poland to be reborn as a country, free of most of the sins of its former masters. At the same time, its non-existence in the nineteenth century allowed the modernization of its society. That modernization has been largely executed by the states occupying Polish territories: Austria, Prussia and Russia. Sowa largely absolves these imperial states from most of the sins against Poland, which are usually assigned to them in the mainstream historical narrative. The Austrians, for instance, in his view, were not guilty for their “rule and divide” policy as they were using social cleavages, constructed mostly earlier by Poles themselves. Had the Poles not created the rifts between Polish nobility and Ruthenian peasants, the Austrians could not use them. In a similar fashion, Sowa argues that Russians were not guilty for their policy of Russification as they were only reacting to the nationalistic discourse of the Polish uprisings. For Sowa, Poles, when organizing the liberation movements against the Tsarist autocracy, should resort to the discourse of social emancipation rather than the nationalist one. Sowa also quotes Daniel Beauvois, as most of the Polish critics of the Kresy discourse and the Sarmatian ideas do. Beauvois is considered a particular authority for all left-liberal authors, and his position is probably important not only because of his high academic reputation, but also because of his Western credentials. Thus, following Beauvois, Sowa suggested that the democracy of the nobility did not, in fact, ever exist in Poland. For Sowa, even its ideals amounted to an empty “ideal of phantasmatic unity based on social or ethic
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elements” (Sowa, 2011: 289). The key arguments are historical, however, and refer to the very limited number of nobleman that sufficed to take a political decision and the fact that only they were granted full privileges of political citizenship in the First Rzeczpospolita. As mentioned above, in his books Beauvois provides detailed data about the low turnout of nobility members at the nobleman assemblies, which, as he argues, were not at all representative for the entire strata. One of the key problems with Beauvois’ critical approach is that he hardly makes any clear differentiation between, on the one hand, his historical studies on the actual practices of Polish republicanism and, on the other hand, the fate of its ideals or the uses of its “myth”, as he calls it. At the same time however, Beauvois provides a rich factual material allowing the study of not only the actual realities of the political situation of Polish nobility, but also the evolution of its ideals. For instance, Beauvois himself admits that Polish ideas of equality of nobles proved attractive not only to Cossacks, but also to Russian nobility, which in the seventeenth century adopted notions coming from the vocabulary of the legal texts of the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth (Beauvois, 2011: 128). Moving to contemporary Polish historiography and political discourse, however, Beauvois is completely unable to distinguish between his historical findings and the sociological analysis of modern “myth making”. Characteristically, when discussing uses of Sarmatism, the ideology of the nobility of the First Rzeczpospolita, he argues that it was “giving basis for building, what Benedict Anderson was calling an ‘imagined community’” (Beauvois, 2011: 134). Later in the same text Beauvois asked, “maybe in Poland fiction always wins over the facts” (Beauvois, 2011: 139). Thus, Beauvois builds a clear contrast between the West where national mythologies are supposedly always, or almost always based on “historical truth”, and Poland (most probably entire Eastern Europe), where history is mostly mythical. As it seems, Beauvois considers Benedict Anderson’s theory of nation building as applicable only to non-Western or maybe peripheral countries by assuming that core countries of the world system were able to produce systems of political values based on their “objective histories”. Beauvois is probably not aware of the fact that Anderson himself complained that the Western social sciences have invested much more effort in the deconstruction of the “imagined communities” of peripheral nations that those of their own countries.1 In effect, Beauvois seems to naturalize the Western political culture as based on “objective historical facts”. He could be also seen as an orientalist. Such interpretation will be to a large extent dependent on the context of our critique. Given that, Beauvois takes the development of Polish political values out of the wider international context, in particular, that of Western Europe. He also ignores the context of the position from which he is writing. In the meantime, Beauvois, while in fact accusing Polish mainstream discourses of Kresy of orientalism, can himself be seen as partly committing the very same sin. He, after all, clearly sees the contemporary French and other European societies as “normal”, and considers Poland and other countries of
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Central and Eastern Europe as being in need of aligning themselves with historical legacies of the Western core. It is also intriguing to find out how much importance Beauvois assigns to the role he himself plays in Poland. In particular, he declared to be surprised that after the publication of his first book in Polish in 1987, there were still some supporters of the “ideal freedom of nobility in Poland” (Beauvois, 2011). This seems to be an interesting case of naturalization of the center-periphery asymmetry between the scholar’s native country and the region he studies. Let us imagine even an eminent Polish scholar publishing a book on the cruel aspects of the French Revolution, or on the really existing inequalities among formally equal citizens of one of the French Republic. He would probably not expect from his French readers that few years after the publication of his first work in French, they will all lose their belief in the ideals of the French Revolution, and that the French state will abandon the “historically false” slogan of “Liberté, Egalite, Fraternité”. At the same time, Beauvois can be, of course, proud of the impact he exerted on the Polish debate on Kresy. Practically all publications on the topic refer to him, even popular ones, including albums like S´wiat Kresów, whose authors make it clear that they are aware of Beauvois’ criticsm (Kozłowski and Błahut-Biegan´ska, 2011). The above discussed debates on the heritage of the Kresy in Poland seems to show how crucial, in peripheral societies, is the question of definition of the “European norm” and the ability to interpret “normal European” values at the peripheries. The Polish historian Wojciech Tygielski, referring to Antoni Ma˛czak, argued against the “thesis on the abnormal character of the First Rzeczpospolita”. Ma˛czak argued that there was no clear “European norm” in the seventeenth century, which seems crucial for the debate one Kresy. The political systems of most European states remained very diverse. In particular, as Tygielski argues after Ma˛czak, the French absolutism was very different from the English and Dutch systems, or the Italian one, characterized by a high degree of fragmentation. The federal system of the German Reich made it rather similar than dissimilar to Rzeczpospolita. This led both Ma˛czak and Tygielski to abandon what they call an “attractive but overly simplified” dichotomy between the Polish–Lithuanian weakness, resulting from the excessive noble democracy and decentralization, and the Western European absolutism, known for its centralism and clear hierarchies, which produce a strong state and its territorial cohesion. (Tygielski, 2003: 41–42). Beauvois, just as Sowa and other critics of the Kresy myth, seem to ignore the thesis of Western diversity and keep to their view of the West as being dominated by the only “normal” model, from which Central and Eastern European countries clearly diverged. In effect, Beauvois, although not being a Polish scholar, positions himself clearly in reference to the key cleavage of the Polish political scene in a more direct way than most other historians do. He relates the program of the right-wing politician Roman Giertych who was criticized for his reform of the school curriculum, which was perceived by the liberal side of the political scene as an imposition of nationalist values. Referring to Ewa
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Thompson’s ideas, Beauvous asks where does her need to feel “colonized” come from, and why does she want so much to cherish “irrational ‘values’”? Authors like Thompson who interpret Poland as a victim of the Soviet or Russian colonization appear thus for Beauvois as “irrational” (Beauvois, 2011). One could note that Beauvois presents in his studies an interesting insight into the role, which Russian authorities in the nineteenth century played in the development of the modern Polish field of power. In particular, he discusses the role of Russian policies in widening the gap between the richest landowners and the petty nobility, most of whom have been stripped of their formal titles in the first half of the nineteenth century. The complicity of the highest echelons of the nobility in this process is a reason for Beauvois to declare that Poland is responsible for making the ideas of the noble democracy a mockery. The interpretation of the role of Russian authorities in the former territories of the First Rzeczpospolita, offered by Beauvois, seems to be specific. One has to recognize that Beauvois is focusing much more attention on it than most Polish scholars, interested in the former Kresy area. He, nevertheless, tends to see the Russians as a contextual factor rather than as an active agent, to whom responsibility for specific political outcomes could be attributed. Beauvois, for example, argues that those representatives of the petty gentry who were most brutally dispossessed by the Russian authorities and, at the same time, socially degraded with the complicity of their richer noble Polish “brothers”, formed a group of Poles that became most susceptible to calls by radical revolutionary movements like Narodnaya Volia (Beauvois, 2011: 133). One could link this argument with Sowa’s accusations of Polish nobility of not being “revolutionary” enough and of sticking to nationalist ideas. If the logic of disintegration of the former wider strata of nobility, described by Beauvois, was indeed so clear, one could ironically argue that Polish aristocracy and Russian imperial authorities were not ruthless enough in dispossessing the petty gentry, which resulted in the emergence of a majority of radicals among the members of Polish intelligentsia. At the same time, however, Beauvois argues that the dispossessed nobility formed the backbone of the Polish autonomous region, formed in 1920 in the Soviet Union. The richer landowners escaped to Poland and started to write nostalgic memoirs which at that time dominated the Polish memory of Kresy. Therefore, Beauvois accuses Polish aristocracy of lack of both class as well as national solidarity. It is, however, not entirely clear how authors like Beauvois or Sowa would like that Polish social history would have developed. Given that they consider the ideals of the First Republic as “false” and imposed on the entire nation by the richest strata of the nobility, they seem to expect the peasants and the petty nobility to adopt their own particularistic ideologies, based on defending their interests from the richest landowners. How, however, should a common platform for democratic Poland look like? Both Beauvois and Sowa are clearly critical about the inability of the First Rzeczpospolita to effectively integrate its non-noble and non-Polish inhabitants. Would these authors be happy if all these social groups, some of whom later formed contemporary nation states
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like Lithuania or Ukraine, have been Polonized and transformed into citizens of a modern Polish nation state? As Beauvois emphasizes, Polonization was a condition for any successful social advance. At the same time, he admits that “the centralist France was dealing with its regional dialects, recognized today as languages, exactly in the same way” (Beauvois, 2010: 20) as Poles, who were unsuccessfully trying to suppress or downgrade languages of peasants inhabiting their territory. Here we seem to deal with a wider dilemma of modernization and social inclusion mentioned already earlier. We can note that the weakness of the First Rzeczpospolita project as well as of the later incarnations of the Polish state enabled the survival of ethnic minorities, who otherwise would have, at best, retained a status of regional minorities dominated by the Polish state, its national institutions and culture. What would Beauvois’ and Sowa’s attitude to such a strong Polish state be? Would they admire it for its modernization capacities or rather condemn it for subduing and destroying several weaker cultures and, possibly, also their languages. For Beauvois it is not clear why Ukraine “is still filling the soul of an average Pole”, while, he argues, the French managed to get rid of their imperial mentality in relation to their former colonies long ago. An important question appears in this context, namely, should the former Kresy area be compared to the French colonies in Africa and other continents, or rather to such regions as Bretagne or the French part of Catalonia (Roussillon)? There is no clear answer to this question, and it seems it will always have an arbitrary character. At the same time, however, Beauvois quotes the Russian historian Aleksey Miller, who argues that there would be no Belarusian or Ukrainian nationality had Russia followed the French policies and installed a mandatory universal education system. The Russian state was, however, not ready to tolerate any “enlightened people” for fear of the social and political consequences of its education. At the same time, Russians were focused on the eradication of Polish influences in the region, rather than on development of modern Russian educational system. However, their attempts at eradication of the petty gentry backfired at all times, as Beauvois argues. The Polish gentry, even if formally stripped of their status, were calling themselves “former gentry” (dawna szlachta). At the same time, the rich landowners appeared to be allies of Russian authorities in the confrontation with peasant revolts. Beauvois concludes his analysis of the Polish–Russian confrontation in the Kresy, with a suggestion that Belarusians and Ukrainians were both victims and winners of that situation. On the one side, both Russian authorities as well as Polish gentry were keeping them at the bottom of social hierarchy and economically exploited them. On the other hand, the Russian confrontation with the Poles, considered as the key opponent of the Russian Empire in the Kresy region, did save Belarusians and Ukrainians from more systematic Russian efforts at Russification (Beauvois, 2006b). Interestingly, the same remark by Miller that there “might not have been” any Ukraine as a modern, separate nation, not to mention a nation state, was presented by Andrzej Nowak as manifestation of Miller’s imperial attitude. Nowak, in particular, suggested that, “In fact, we
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are dealing here with a methodologically developed anti-national tendency that can be detected in numerous Russian studies on the empire—a tendency which often criticizes nations who seek their identity at the edges of the fallen Empire” (Nowak, 2003: 130). One of the important implicit assumptions made by critics of the Kresy discourse like Beauvois or Sowa is that of the superiority of Western political traditions and political culture, which are assigned a universal status. Here we have a clear contrast with apologists of the Sarmatian traditions for whom Kresy was a key incarnation and an important and largely successful Polish attempt at building a relatively universal political culture. As, for example, Bartłomiej Radziejowski argues: Sarmatism was an attempt at devising a concept of nation large enough to fit in it not only Poles and Lithuanians, but also Ruthenians, and in a smaller degree also Jews, Armenians, Tatars, Germans, or Italians, only if they wanted to work for Rzeczpospolita and were considered worthy of ennoblement to the rank of citizens. (Radziejewski, 2009: 23) These claims of the conservatives, aspiring to build a relatively open transnational political identity for the Polish-dominated Rzeczpospolita, are strongly rejected by the left-liberals. Sowa, for example, clearly suggests that only Western values are universal, while Polish ones are always particular. As he writes referring to psychoanalytic language, “what is universal is not universal by accident, a hard core is standing behind it, some movement of the Real which is going to return in any possible world, and against all particularisms” (Sowa, 2011: 533). One can speculate that in this way Sowa makes references to the complex and multifaceted nature of Western domination. As I have argued earlier, this domination can be seen as based not merely on the strength of culture but also on that of economic and political advantage, which probably form the core of what Sowa defines as “real”. Moreover, Sowa directly argues that Poles should understand that “what is lower, subaltern or dependent, has been constituted as such and did not exist before it was subordinated” (Sowa, 2011: 534). In other words, Sowa suggests that Poland’s political culture is historically developed as a subordinated one and is destined to remain as such. The only way out of this trap is to abandon native defunct political traditions, based on “false history”, and adopt the only reliable one, i.e. Western frames of organization of political life and civil society. Such program implies, of course, the need of renouncing any ambitions of universalization of Polish political culture and of Polishness. Moreover, Bakuła declared them as counter-productive. Beauvois not only accuses Polish historians of reproducing the myth of identifying Sarmatian political practices with contemporary definitions of “citizenship”, but also condemns them for spreading this conception in Eastern Europe, in particular in Belarus, Ukraine and Lithuania. Beauvois mentions in particular Jerzy Kłoczowski
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and his Lublin based institute, which managed, to Beauvois’ despair, to convert to this idea numerous younger historians “deprived of their roots by Moscow” (Beauvois, 2011: 125). Beauvois also accuses Andrzej Walicki for spreading similar myths in the United States and for presenting a view of similarity between the republican concepts of the First Rzeczpospolita and American democracy. In addition, Beauvois criticizes the eminent Polish historian Janusz Tazbir for not questioning the principles of the noble democracy and for not exposing its embarrassing aspects, both of which include the intention of “reinforcing myths or the positive reception of Poland abroad” (Beauvois, 2011: 125). Most other Western analysts seem to have less radical approaches to the mythology of the First Rzeczpospolita, however, most of them, willingly or not, seem to be unable to avoid involvement into the Polish political debate. Christian Prunitsch points to difficulties in understanding the above mentioned Polish traditions because of their absence in what he calls after Umberto Eco “the Encyclopedia of the West”, which can probably be also related to Foucault’s notion of “archive”. What Prunitsch analyzed, in particular, was the presence of entries on “Sarmatism” in Western encyclopedic publications. According to his findings, Sarmatia existed in these publications only as a half mythical territory not related specifically to Polish traditions. A description of Polish uses of the notion appears only in the modern Encyclopedia Britannica in an entry devoted to Poland. However, the entry gives a very one-sided definition of the Sarmatian idea. It particular, it argues that by “representing a symbiosis of a political ideology and a lifestyle typical of a landowning, rather provincial, tightly knit, and increasingly xenophobic culture, Sarmatism extolled the virtues of the szlachta and contrasted them with Western values” (Prunitsch, 2011: 84). Prunitsch finds out that, eventually, the English version of Wikipedia is the place where the Sarmatian idea is fully and clearly presented to the Western reader. In this case, however, all the imperfections of an internet open project are present, so this Wikipedia entry cannot be considered as yet to be a full integration of the traditional Polish concept in Western archives. Thus, the author concludes that: the West since the end of Middle Ages did not recognize the fundamental and complex role of Sarmatia and Sarmats in searches of the Polish cultural identity in a dimension reaching beyond the academic circles, but is trying to qualify Sarmatism as an exotic local color of the civilizationally backward Central and Eastern Europe. (Prunitsch, 2011: 88) Without this knowledge and understanding of the Sarmatian myth in the West, Poland’s debates over Sarmatism will remain, for Western analysts, only a difficult to understand, grotesque atavism, as Prunitsch contends. However, as he argues, Sarmatism also displays deeper differences between Poland and Germany, and probably also between Poland and the West. He sees these
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differences in dependencies between geography and ideology, between territorial thinking and national-mythical thinking. As he suggests, in the West, they do not function any longer, especially after the Enlightenment (Prunitsch, 2011: 88). As Prunitsch does not elaborate his suggestion, it is difficult to be sure. However, one can ask whether he is not, in a way, trying to essentialize the difference between the two parts of the continent by suggesting a much more territorial, that is, place specific character of eastern myths in contrast to Western myths, allegedly more abstract and universal. In any case, Prunitsch distinguishes two aspects of Sarmatism. One of these aspects refers to Sarmatism as creating identity and legitimizing power. The other one depicts Sarmatism as full of megalomania and compensatory functions. As it seems, it would be rather more appropriate to talk about different types of “uses” of Sarmatism rather than about its innate characteristics. Additionally, we could note that the distinction between these “traits” or even “functions” will have an arbitrary and, in fact, political character. This distinction could be another tool of differentiating between legitimate Polish (or other Eastern European) claims of specificity and the dangerous zone of “megalomania”, “compensation” or, even worse, tendencies such as nationalism or xenophobia. Peter Oliver Loew considers Sarmatism as a Polish form of the so-called sonderweg, or “the special way” (Loew, 2011). The myth of the First Rzeczpospolita, according to him, parallels German Reichsmythos. However, while the latter disappeared in 1945, the Polish Sarmatian myth is still alive, even after the departure of the Kaczyn´ski brothers from power, who, in Loew’s opinion, incarnated the dangerous aspects of Sarmatians legacy. Besides the main threads of positive references to Sarmatism, Loew sees the danger of an “unrealistic assessment of the current political situation” and that of “a hidden longing for an estate-society, one which excludes most inhabitants from equal participation” (Loew, 2011: 106). Quoting Tomasz Mac´kowiak, who asserted that, “It is thanks to Kaczynskis that Poland is undergoing a fundamental transformation: it is ceasing to be the most eastward part of the West and is becoming the most Westward part of the East.” (Loew, 2011: 106). Loew sees Poland as having become closer to Putin’s Russia under the conservative government. This is supposed to have been caused by the “weak fundament” of the Polish state and by an aspect of native-Slavic longing, which seemed already to have been overcome as something allegedly negative or backward, as Loew seems to suggest. At the same time, Loew argues that Sarmatism is important as a tool of building the master-narrative of Polish uniqueness, in particular, in its capacity to encapsulate the differences of traditions between Western Europe and the region of Central and Eastern Europe. Finally, Loew concludes his paper with a call for comparative research, in particular, for comparisons of Sarmatism with German Bürgerlichkeit or English gentry. He seems to suggest, in a way, that at least from an academic point of view, Sarmatism may not necessarily be seen as an aspect of backwardness of the country’s political culture, but just as one of several, basically comparable, European historical myths of civil society.
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Another German scholar, Hans-Jürgen Bömelburg, when comparing the First German Reich and the First Rzeczpospolita, found both of them to be used for a historical legitimization of the European Union, which is modeled as a federation that brings together several levels of identity. At the same time, he argued that the German notion of the Reich has been compromised after 1945, and identified with German imperial and hegemonic ambitions (Bömelburg, 2012). In such context, the Polish myth of the First Rzeczpospolita and the discourse on Kresy may look archaic. Christoph Kleßmann and Robert Traba consider the discourse on Kresy as “schizophrenic” because of its vacillation between messianic and romantic traditions and its attempts to present Polishness as an element of European universalism (Kleßmann and Traba, 2012: 57). This diagnosis of schizophrenia seems to be made from a Western point of view. It may be interpreted as an accusation of lack of cohesion between the Polish past and the Western “norm”. As many other attributions of irrationality to Central and Eastern European historical legacies, it may be probably also seen as a form of orientalism. Several other scholars noted similarities between the Polish Kresy discourse and the German narratives of the identity of Eastern Prussia. Robert Traba, in his book on East Prussianism (Traba, 2005), pointed to the Bollwerk function of Eastern Prussia which he considered as a “Bulwark of Germanness”. This idea is very similar to the idea of Kresy as a bulwark of Christiantity. Maria Janion pointed to the similarity of the Kresy myth to the American myth of the “Wild West” (Janion, 2006). One could also make several other comparisons, in particular, point to the affinities of the Kresy ideology with the Russian myth of Syberia (Bassin, 1993, 1999). Gábor Lagzi pointed to the similar role of Transylvania in Hungarian Kresy (Lagzi, 2006). Janusz Tazbir reminded that Russia has a similar legend of a bulwark that is related to the Battle of Kulikove Polie (1380) (Tazbir, 2004: 199). Christoph Kleßmann and Robert Traba also pointed to important contrasts between Germany and Poland. While the 1950s was a period of the most active pursuit of the cult of the lost eastern territories for Germany, in Poland, any mention of Kresy was strictly forbidden in that period. (Kleßmann and Traba, 2012). At the same time, as Kleßmann and Traba note, in the case of Germany, the state played a crucial role in the production of myths of Eastern Prussia, while in Poland, much more often, Kresy discourses were produced outside state institutions. What is interesting in the above discussed accounts is that although most of them have a more obvious comparative approach than those of Beauvois, they still tend to have a clear normative aspect. Most of them identify negative sides of Sarmatism and, at the same time, see these negative sides as being incarnated in contemporary Polish conservative politicians, in particular, in the conservative government led by Jarosław Kaczyn´ski. This seems to be a good manifestation of the politically defined uses of these concepts, even if the texts under discussion appear in the academic publications and are written by foreign authors.
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As I have already mentioned earlier, most of the Polish authors, located in the left-liberal sector of the intellectual field, usually consider Sarmatism and the myths of the First Rzeczpospolita as harmful. The literary critic Przemysław Czaplin´ski is a good case in point. He argues that Sarmatism leads to exclusions, xenophobia, and does not teach “procedures of exchange of respect” (Czaplin´ski, 2011). Further, it is allegedly infecting community with a distain for otherness. At the same time, however, Czaplin´ski recognizes it as an essential part of Polishness. We can thus conclude that most of the authors, whose critiques of the Kresy discourse were presented above, willingly or not, appear to be highly involved in current Polish political life. In the very least, this happens by the authors assuming a clear position in the clearly politicized sectors of Poland’s intellectual field. Some of these authors even take part in activities of more direct political nature. Most of them, however, want to, at least, contribute to the improvement of Polish society, and to appear useful in the enhancement of both public discourse and civil society. These desires may be identified with their aspiration to play a role of public sociologists. These authors are eager to point to the mechanism of exclusion hidden in the Kresy discourse and in its mythical character. First of all, however, they want to condemn authors who are politically linked to the conservative side of the political spectrum and whom they see as abusing the Kresy discourse. This willingness to appear useful in contemporary political life appears to be stronger than the passion to reconstruct the structures of the fields and the logic of the games in which they participate. As I would argue, this restricts their reflexivity, in particular, by limiting their ability to take into account both the construction of the fields, in which they are involved, their own position within them, and the multidimensional interrelation between the Western core and the peripheries of Central and Eastern Europe. In effect, as I have pointed out through several examples, these authors may be seen as falling much easier into the trap of Orientalism, which is, of course, difficult to avoid for anyone dealing with the region of Central and Eastern Europe. In most cases, while condemning the mechanisms of exclusion, present in traditional Polish discourses, as well as the marginalization of the cultures of Poland’s eastern neighbors, these authors end up excluding all those in Central and Eastern Europe who are seen as not ready to embrace the classic Western discourses of civil society and emancipation in their left-liberal version, based on idealization of such historical events as the French Revolution. One should, however, admit that this mechanism may be seen as a trap, into which everyone in the region could fall. As I hope, however, what we could potentially achieve in such context, is to reconstruct the mechanisms of orientalization, which impact all of us, and to become at least partially aware of them. This awareness should allow us to restrict our dependence on them. Another aspect of dependence is the involvement in current political life, even in indirect forms, through participation in activities of the intellectual field. This seems to be an aspect of a wider dilemma for any social scientist. The will to be useful and relevant for a wider community is often coming at cost of losing
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intellectual independence. As I would argue, attempts at restricting the impact of wider pan-European mechanisms of orientalism should be related to attempts at maintaining the autonomy of our intellectual fields from the political field in all its dimensions. We can mention here the following two dimensions: first, the international one including relations between center and periphery, and, second, the national dimension, including relations between pro-Western liberals and Western-skeptic conservatives. These dimensions are strongly interrelated, but as I have argued in the first part on the book, they are based on different types of assets. All those, involved in the fight against orientalism in its different incarnations, if not trying to maintain their relative autonomy, will become, willingly or not, dependent on direct political games with much greater intensity than those who tend to assume autonomous positions. In Central European context, the main stake of the political confrontation could be probably defined as identification of the general line of a compromise between, on one hand, the “universal”, that is, Western aspects of the political identity of Central and Eastern European national communities, and, on the other hand, their native, that is, “oriental” properties. That line has both pan-European and national dimensions. On the European, or even global level, it is the line of compromise in identifying the share of the region’s historical and political heritage, recognized as part of a global “archive” or “encyclopedia” respected by the West. On a national scale, it is a political compromise between the Western-universal and the native-particular in the dominant political identity. An aspect of this dimension may be seen in the divide between native heritage, one which is widely recognized as particular, that is, local, and its elements that are mostly not globally recognized as universal, but for which there is a wide local consensus on the need to promote them internationally and to make efforts at their inclusion into the global “archive” (or to upgrade their position in it). Therefore, the common theme in the critical analyses of the Kresy discourse is, in fact, a political deliberation on the power relations between Poland and the Western core, as well as between political camps in Poland and how these relations should be reflected in the balance of different elements in identity discourses. Some suggest that Poland, just as most peripheral countries, risks overestimating its importance by relying too heavily on narratives of its uniqueness. Here, the implicit assumption seems to be that a country has to have enough power, in particular economic and political, to earn the right to be recognized both as European and as having its specific heritage of political history contribute to its own construction of the civic sphere. The lack of adequate resources makes the claims of a country in regards to recognition of particular political and cultural specificity look grotesque, and/or nationalistic. Most of the debates on the Kresy heritage and the Sarmatian ideology could be seen as such analyzes of adequacy of political and economic resources, on the one hand, and of cultural claims, on the other hand. This is, however, not an interpretation that one could find among discourses on Kresy, since economic relations are usually marginalized in most discussions on the region, which may be characterized as
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suffering from the above discussed cultural reductionism. Most of the current discussions on the Polish presence in Kresy and on the importance of Kresy in the Polish culture are rarely related to the economic importance of the region. Interestingly, this happens in a context in which Kresy, one has to emphasize, used to be a region where most of the wealth of the Polish economic elite was concentrated. The Kresy elite constituted the richest part of the Polish landowners’ class and, thus, was particularly self-confident. This economic position translated at times into political influences on Russian and Austrian elites, as well as on privileged contacts with Western landowning elites. At the same time, the economic aspect was an important one in the production of Kresy’s culture and, in particular, of the image of the region. The echoes of this culture and image production, as has been presented above, are still very much audible. However, this economic dimension of the prestige of the Polish culture of Kresy is largely forgotten. In other words, the culture of the elite, whose power has been built on economic resources, is today almost fully naturalized and the lasting influences of that heritage are seen as self-sustained. This declining memory of the economic dimension of the Polish Kresy region may be linked to a wider process of evolution of the emerging field of power in modern Poland. Its prehistory, that is, the period including the second half of the nineteenth century, could be seen as marked by a confrontation between two major forces. On the one hand, it was the faction of wealthy landowners, who were mostly of noble and aristocratic origin and formed alliances with the emerging bourgeoisie. On the other hand, it was the faction of the intelligentsia, comprised mostly of the members and descendants of the petty gentry and of dispossessed landowners, unable to maintain their economic status. The intelligentsia, which became eventually the winner of that confrontation, defined its status in terms of two dimensions. The first is education. The second is a morally mandated mission of nation-building envisioned in opposition to an empire-controlled Polish land. The landownerbourgeois faction, in contrast, had a much more pragmatic political outlook. This faction was skeptical towards nationalist projects and the social radicalism of the intelligentsia, since it relied on the economic and political institutions of the existing empires. This confrontation could be interpreted as an opposition between cultural capital-oriented and economic capital-oriented poles of the field of power, known from the classical charts of Bourdieu. The key period including the second part of the nineteenth century and the first two decades of the twentieth century, could be seen as a chain of events, in which the cultural capital-oriented faction of the intelligentsia gradually gained advantage over the economic-capital faction in the Polish field of power. This process could be seen as a transformation of an emerging field of power, characterized by a relative balance between its economic and cultural poles (comparable to their relations in Western societies), into a culture-capital-dominated field of power which we can still observe in Poland. The Polish “November” uprising of 1831, and especially the “January” uprising of 1863 could be seen as turning points of that process, since they
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had triggered waves of confiscations of Polish property which appeared most damaging to the economic capital-oriented factions of the field of power. The uprisings were, in fact, staged by cultural-capital factions which used what could be called “patriotic blackmail” to force the economic-capital faction to participate. Their political effects, despite heavy casualties, could be seen as clearly positive for cultural capital-oriented factions of the emerging field of power, since the uprisings gave a strong impetus to the heroic myth of the Polish intelligentsia as the defender and the soul of the nation in its process of resurrection. The 1917 Bolshevik Revolution was probably one of the most important transformations of all, since it resulted in the largest economic and political losses for Polish landowners and capitalists. The Second Rzeczpospolita, which was formally established in 1918, emerged already as an intelligentsiadominated political community, in which the remnants of the former economic capital-oriented faction appeared to be deprived of their former social status (symbolically, aristocratic titles were abolished) and especially, of their material assets. This may be seen as the key moment in the formation of the present day structure of the Polish field of power, where economic capital is clearly subordinated to cultural capital and where the cultural elite of the intelligentsia dominates over the economic elite. The latter, being gradually politically marginalized, eventually lost all of their economic resources at the moment when the communist government in Poland was established in 1944. In this way, the descendants of the petty gentry, who transformed themselves into the intelligentsia, defined the contours of the modern Polish political culture. Their ideology, as it was suggested earlier, could be seen as having been built on a specific appropriation of the myths of the First Rzeczpospolita and their specific forms of universalization. That model could be also seen as based on the idea of compensation for the country’s weakness based on political (Polish nation state) and, in particular, cultural capital (intelligentsia as a substitute of bourgeoisie). Interestingly, the former elite of landowners in the distant Kresy and many of the region’s inhabitants, who settled in Poland after the 1917 revolution in Russia, could be seen as forgotten refugees. Although the myth of Kresy was still in place and even continued to develop after 1918, the dominant role of the intelligentsia in the Second Polish Republic was to transform the identity of Kresy into the increasingly political and, especially, cultural dimension. The voices of the dispossessed landowners were barely heard, as, for example, a brochure written by Zdzisław Grocholski and published in 1929 testifies (Grocholski, 1929). As the president of the Association of “Poles of the Ruthenian Lands”, Grocholski decries the Riga Treaty of 1921, signed between Second Rzeczpospolita and Bolshevik Russia. Interestingly, Grocholski is ready to recognize the political borders set by the treaty. However, he considers the recognition of the process of nationalization of property undertaken by Bolsheviks and stipulated in the treaty as an act of treason on the part of the elites of the new Polish state. This economic aspect of the changes brought by the developments which started in 1917 is marginalized until today. Hanna
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Gosk is among the very few contemporary Polish authors who remind us about the trauma of the economic capital-oriented elites of the inter-war period. In the memory of these elites, the Great War and the Bolshevik revolution will always remain as the greatest evil that befell Poland (Gosk, 2008). The former landowners of Kresy and the other refugees from the region could probably be compared to the so called “Pied-Noir” (evacuees from Algeria after its declaration of independence in 1962). What was especially common between those two groups was the feeling of a deep loss, which was not recognized by the majority of their compatriots in the mainland. Another wave of such refugees appeared in Poland after the relocation of Poland’s borders further east in 1945. They are often compared to refugees from former eastern provinces in Germany. However, one of the characteristic differences between the associations of “expellees” in Germany and the Polish association of former Kresy inhabitants is that the former were clearly much more focused on the economic dimension of their “lost lands”, while their Polish counterparts were usually absorbed by their cultural heritage and memory politics. In all instances when the question of compensations has appeared in Poland, the demands were not directed to the newly independent states of zone two, but to the Polish government. This disassociation of the memory of Kresy from the economic dimension of their existence, which could be related to the absolute triumph of the Polish intelligentsia over the indigenous bourgeoisie and landowners, class, is almost never taken into account by the critics of the Polish Kresy discourse. The critics seem to forget that at least from 1939 and, for the major part of the region, since 1917 the Polish cultural presence in Kresy was not an additional dimension of hegemony that supported the economic and political domination, but, practically, the only dimension of status and power. This pattern of domination seems to be radically different compared to those of other former colonial territories which are usually dependent on their former metropolises not only in cultural but also in economic terms. In the case of Poland, however, the domination over the former eastern region known as Kresy, not only lost any economic aspect, but its economic dimension became silenced. A good example of how effectively the economic dimension of social history has disappeared from current Polish thinking about the past is a recent analysis of the famous novel The Doll or Lalka written by Bolesław Prus and first published in Warsaw in 1890 (Prus, 1996). As Aleksander Kaczorowski (Kaczorowski, 2012) argues, Wokulski, the main character in the book and a successful Warsaw businessman who falls in love with an aristocrat, is a symbol of the tragedy of the Polish elite. Kaczorowski accuses the Polish intelligentsia of blind fascination with the aristocracy and, in effect, of inability to transform itself into a true bourgeoisie. However, a critique of the Polish elites of the late nineteenth century presented by Prus, for Kaczorowski, becomes the “objective” image of the Polish society at the turn of the twentieth century. The image of the Polish businessman becomes as a result a portrait of an irrational collaborator of the oppressive Russian government who is
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blindly fascinated with aristocracy, which is presented as “bankrupt”. In effect, the emerging Polish bourgeoisie is imagined as economically irrational and insufficiently patriotic, while the Polish landowners are presented as lacking any resources. Kaczorowski contrasts this image of Poland as supposedly having no “true” capitalists, whose elite positions were taken by “bankrupt” aristocrats and Jewish industrialists, with an idealized image of the Czech lands in the same period. Such an opposition seems quite characteristic for the liberal interpreters of Poland’s history, since they have a clear proclivity for imagining it in terms of contrasts between negatively portrayed “irrational” Eastern-oriented actors and positively imagined Western-oriented actors. Thus, for Kaczorowski, the rational Czechs of the late nineteenth century were building their own bourgeoisie, pushing the Germans out of their towns, and taking over the industry and banks. Moreover, the Czechs are presented as actively building a democratic society, one in which no one is ashamed of their own peasant roots. In Poland, in contrast, as Kaczorowski argues, the nobility had “imposed” their anachronistic lifestyle and value system on the wider society. Social advancement was very difficult, and those moving up the social hierarchy had to pretend to have a noble background or, at least, had to adapt to aristocratic values. Similarly, their contemporary successors, as Kaczorowski suggests, are under social pressure to pretend to have family members who have participated in the Warsaw 1944 Uprising. This centrality of the nobility and intelligentsia ethos is interpreted as a factor stimulating social inequality and the irrationality of the Polish elite. At the same time, Kaczorowski presents Warsaw as a backward city, full of extreme social inequalities which are seen as results of the lack of a “true” bourgeoisie. Kaczorowski contrasts Warsaw with Prague of the same period, which is, for him, a model modern and rational city, governed by the rational Czech bourgeoisie under wise Austrian supervision. Warsaw appears as a city of the irrational intelligentsia, a city administered by corrupt and oppressive Russian bureaucrats. The comparison between present day Prague and Warsaw, in which most of Warsaw’s problems are assigned to the irresponsibility of Polish intelligentsia who is fascinated with aristocratic culture, seems to overshadow the effects of the destruction of the city during the Second World War and those of the economic dispossession of Poles in the period from 1917 to 1944. Thus, Kaczorowski contrasts “rational” Austrian officials cooperating with the Czech bourgeois, on the one hand, with “irrational” and corrupt Russian officials supervising backward Polish intelligentsia members, on the other hand. One could note that Kaczorowski’s reconstruction misses some of the basic economic indicators that would show Warsaw of the late nineteenth century in a much brighter light. He could mention, for instance, that Warsaw was considerably larger than Prague, and it underwent a successful modernization during the turn of the twentieth century, which included the construction of an extensive modern sewage system. More interesting are, however, the implications of Kaczorowski’s representation of the social structure of Polish and Czech societies. One could note
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that the supposed “superiority” of the Czech social structure, which is often recognized by liberal analysts, follows as a result of its similarity to typical Western models of social structure. However, such similarity could be achieved largely due to destruction of the traditional Czech elite, the symbol of whose destruction is the Battle of White Mountain of 1620. Since this Battle led to Germanization of the Czechs, the revival of the nation during the nineteenth century was largely a reconstruction of a nation led by a narrow elite. This resulted in the marginalization of cultural tensions between the gentry-based ethos of the intelligentsia, so visible in Poland or in Hungary, and the classical identity of a Western type middle class. In a similar way, as Anna Sosnowska (2008) has noted, nations of zone two (Baltic States, Ukraine and Belarus) which were, to use Timothy Snyder’s (2003) notion, “reconstructed” in the nineteenth century by newly formed national elites of largely peasant origin, may be seen as having social structure and cultural frames of civil society that are very similar to Western ideal models of modernity. We could note that by accepting the logic behind interpretations like those of Kaczorowski, the problem of Poland could be seen in the fact that it maintained cultural continuity, despite not being a nation state during the nineteenth century. The intelligentsia, as the victorious faction on the battle field of power during the turn of the twentieth century, legitimized itself in terms of the traditions of the First Rzeczpospolita and in terms of the noble ideas, on the basis of which its model of Poland’s civil society was built. A rejection of these traditions and a direct reference to Western bourgeois ideals would imply a surrender to those factions of the field of power who opt to cooperate with the dominant empires. What is, however, characteristic for contemporary dominant liberal interpretations are considerations of Polish traditions of political culture as being “false” or “fake” and based on “denial”. On the other hand, Western traditions, including the Czech model discussed by Kaczorowski, appear as “true” because they are assumed to be based on “real” history. What is ignored is the discontinuity in the field of power of the Czech society, which allowed such a radical reconstruction of the project of its national identity. Most conservatives would probably reject the interpretations of liberals, such as the view of Kaczorowski. However, most of them would probably not see Polish or other Central European native political traditions as superior to Western ones but as their equivalent; they would also see Polish history as an equally legitimate source of positive civic myths. What is common for both liberals and conservatives is that they both perceive the history of Poland in almost exclusively cultural and political terms. In effect, both sides are not able to discern the role of the evolution of the world economic system in the changing status of Kresy’s image in Poland’s field of power. They are also similarly restricted by the intelligentsia doxa. The conservatives explicitly idealize traditional cultural capital-based intelligentsia as a source of the nation’s strength, cohesion and identity. The liberals may be extremely critical of the historical role of the intelligentsia, but in most cases, they are not able to apply the logic of their historical critique to their own status as heirs of
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the intelligentsia, which was clearly illustrated by Kaczorowski’s reasoning. Such a radical self-reflexive view could, after all, lead to some politically unthinkable conclusions such as calls for destruction of traditional Polish culture or calls for building a national bourgeoisie with a mission to replace the “anachronistic” intelligentsia, which could also be currently seen as a “comprador service class”. Such ideas are completely out of the possible current political imagination defined by the Polish field of power. Just as liberals’ criticism of the intelligentsia can’t lead to a questioning of its role, in a similar way, despite the criticism of the Kresy discourse by liberals, the notion of Kresy remains irreplaceable, even for them. We could, thus, conclude that the key issues of contemporary Polish debates cannot be reduced to the question whether the intelligentsia and Kresy are needed or not, but consist of questions that investigate who can use these notions, how could these notions be used, and how should they be defined. In other words, the right to production of legitimate knowledge on the region becomes a key stake. The debate on the Kresy will probably continue forever, since the Kresy as a symbol are, in fact, integrated into the structure of Polish identity on several levels, including a regional and a national level. In effect, the myth of the Kresy, even if not under its own name, continues to reproduce itself also in liberal discourses. It is, among others, ingrained in the Solidarity narrative, based on the “heroic” and “civic” qualities of the Polish movement or even those of the entire nation. The narrative suggests that these qualities started the wave of freedom in the entire communist bloc. The traces of the myth of the Kresy may be also seen in the concepts of Eastern Partnership or the Gierdroyc´ ULB doctrine. After all, Poland, on many occasions, still presents itself internationally as “Kresy of Europe”. Moreover, this image seems to have certain resonance in the West. Thus, the notion of “Kresy”, even if increasingly recognized as politically incorrect, may be considered to be strongly linked to the identity of Eastern regions in the context of the sharp East–West hierarchy of regions and states. Since the further we move east, the lower the symbolic status of the spatial units becomes, each of them can be, in fact, imagined as “liminal” in relation to its eastern neighbors. Moreover, in Polish context, the cities of Lviv/Lwów and Vilnius/Wilno, which have been strongly embedded in the Kresy discourse, appear to have a permanent symbolic role in Polish history and historical heritage discourses. Both cities, with their symbolic power, are important elements of the vision of Polish culture as deeply rooted in Western European culture. Nevertheless, on many occasions, such an overt hierarchization of cultures, on which the discourse of Kresy and its references to the East–West dichotomy are based, is difficult to accept, especially by the liberal sector of the political field. This makes the uses of the Kresy discourse controversial in many contexts. Given this restricted applicability of that narrative, there is a clear need for alternative discourses of Eastness and they are indeed emerging. One such type of alternative discourse includes the new borderlands, which will be discussed in the following chapter of this book.
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Note 1 Let me quote here a recent statement by Anderson. “Some time in the 1980s I asked a distinguished colleague, expert in American politics, what I should read about American nationalism. The colleague replied by mentioning various books about late nineteenth century Manifest Destiny. It was like listening to a healthy person who took oxygen for granted, without a thought for asthmatics and deep-vein miners. Any foreigner living in the US experienced the tornado force of contemporary nationalism. Following in the tracks of my boyhood hero, Sherlock Holmes, I started to think about invisibilities and absences, while what had meantime become social ‘sciences’ (a concept unimaginable in my grad student days) worked in the opposite direction, i.e. with studies of what is visible.” Benedict Anderson, The Albert O. Hirschman Prize Lecture: Era, Culture, Invisibility, and Comparison, IIS Congress, 17 February 2012, Delhi, India.
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The new borderlands discourse
As has been already mentioned, the discourse on “Kresy” has experienced a considerable revival after the fall of communism. At the same time, however, its “outdated” character has become increasingly obvious, not only for the liberal side of Poland’s field of power, but also for the wider public scene. The traditional “Polishness” of the Kresy concept, its clear orientalist aspects and its identification with the conservative right had made its appeal restricted. In particular, for the liberal camp, references to Kresy are difficult, although, as I have suggested earlier, the total abandonment of the concept, given its rootedness in Polish culture, is not conceivable even for this part of the intellectual scene. Thus, while left-liberals call for total rejection of the notion, mainstream liberals continue its use, albeit in highly self-reflexive and restricted ways. Mainstream liberals try to find a balance between the embeddedness of the Kresy notion in Polish traditions and liberal values such as openness, multiculturalism or self-reflexivity. Thus, given such restrictions on the use of the old Kresy concept, a need for new ideologies of Eastness emerged, in particular, in liberal sectors of the Polish field of power. A demand for new identity discourses became particularly clear at the regional level. In Poland, the regional reform of 1998, which introduced 17 new large regions (voivodships), involved an assumption that the new regions needed to be furnished with clear territorial identities. This emphasis on the cultural dimension of what was basically a political reform, could be seen as a local manifestation of a much wider global trend known as “new regionalism” (Larner and Walters, 2002). This trend was characterized by a push for transforming regions into self-accountable entities similar to corporations. The new identity discourses were especially sought-after by peripheral regions which badly needed ways to relate to some historical and cultural narratives linking them to the past. It was necessary, however, that these narratives be compatible with the values of future-oriented ideologies of progress and with those of European integration. In such context, the Kresy discourse with its conservative connotation was clearly not the answer for the new regions of Eastern Poland. One of key answers to the above mentioned demand was what I will call here the “borderlands discourse” or more precisely the “new borderlands discourse” and which I will discuss in this chapter. This discourse is increasingly popular
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in a wide variety of contexts, in particular, in “new” Polish regions (created by the regional reform of 1998), which are supposed to develop their regional identity narratives and which are faced with the challenge to become economically marginalized since the beginning of the post-communist period. The borderlands discourse can be clearly seen as a new “ideology of Eastness”. However its “oriental” and “Orientalizing” traits are much more subtle than those of the old Kresy discourse. After all, the new borderlands discourse is a product of the liberal sector of the field of power, and its ideological assumptions are largely characteristic for the political philosophy of the Euro-enthusiastic political camp. This does not mean that uses of the new borderlands discourse are restricted exclusively to the liberal sector of the field of power. Just as the Kresy discourse is in different subtle ways integrated into many liberal discourses, in the same way, elements of the new borderlands discourse may be found in different types of conservative, that is, Euro-skeptic discourses. In effect, one could be presently impressed with the number of publications on borderlands in Poland originating in the field of widely defined regional studies. Tens of books, numerous journals and hundreds of articles are published each year on borderlands, and the notion proves to be also popular in the entire region of Central and Eastern Europe. What are the particular features of the new borderlands discourse that make it attractive for contemporary users´ The advantages of the new borderland discourse can be well demonstrated when we compare the borderland notion to the related notion of a periphery. While the notion of a periphery, in particular, in systematic approaches such as Stein Rokkan’s analyses of peripheral regions (Rokkan, 1980), is based on assumption of dependence between centers and peripheries, the concept of a borderland usually ignores the question of external, or, even, any power relations and dependencies as well as the question of the relative status of a region in wider spatial hierarchies. Borderlands are usually imagined as spaces of crossing external influences seen as forces that increase the spectrum of possible choices for the inhabitants of a region, rather than forces that restrict any of the inhabitants’ freedoms. Typically, these external forces are imagined predominantly in cultural terms, and are supposed to enrich a given region culturally. This tendency may allow classifying the new discourse on borderlands as strongly influenced by cultural reductionism, characteristic for most of the intelligentsia-developed identity discourses in Central and Eastern Europe. In this way, the concept of a borderland may not only allow the marginalization of the problems related to the dependence of peripheral regions, but, moreover, transform them symbolically into an asset. A marginal region becomes supposedly privileged as it may profit from the richness of cultural flows, which are allegedly less accessible to areas that do not enjoy borderland status. The assumption of richness of cross-cutting cultural influences in borderland regions may be seen as related to liberal ideals of multiculturalism, diversity, openness, or cosmopolitanism. At the same time, it allows the opportunity to ignore most of the questions regarding power relations. One can, thus, relate the periphery-borderland opposition to
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the opposition between the paradigm of conflict-oriented and that of social integration-oriented sociological inquiry, introduced in the first chapter of the book. In fact, both the old Kresy discourses and those on the new borderland can be related to the integration paradigm, however, their effectiveness, as far as integration capabilities are concerned, is clearly unequal. The devaluation of the Kresy discourse may be to a large extent related to its deconstruction in the current political context, in particular, from the point of view of the liberal sector of the field of power. From that viewpoint, the integrative power of the Kresy discourse is challenged, foremostly because of the controversial nature of its universalizing potential and because of its strong and explicit references to Polish culture and its traditional heritage. However, looking from the conservative view point, the Kresy discourse is a typical social integration discourse, aiming for creation of a common cultural frame and celebrating the cultural diversity and interaction between cultures. In a left-liberal view, the Kresy discourses are, however, as it has been discussed in the previous chapter, seen as a narrative of possession and domination, permeated with symbolic violence. In contrast, the new borderland discourse may be seen as having a much higher ability of masking the power relations on which it is build or by which it is employed. The ethnic or national neutrality of the new borderland discourse is recognized much more broadly than that of the Kresy discourse or that of the open national discourses. In its view, a borderland appears as “nobody’s land”, as a space open for any actors willing to build a civic community that will be based on peaceful cooperation of cultures. The wider context, in particular, the geographic setting in which a given region is located, is imagined as a space that offers possibilities rather than a space that imposes constraints or coercion. At the same time, looking from the perspective of Rokkan’s approach, any periphery may be seen as a region, whose fate is largely determined by forces acting on it from superior central places or zones, located higher in the spatial hierarchies. These forces may not necessarily fully determine the destiny of peripheries. All subordinate actors, even in a pessimistic conflict-oriented paradigm, do have at least a limited margin of liberty, especially regarding the recognition of their subordinate position. Peripheral regions may also profit from games between several centers competing for influences over them. A periphery that enjoys such liberty of balance between two or more centers is called, in Rokkan’s nomenclature, an “interface periphery”. More generally, Rokkan sees peripheral regions as dependent on processes of interaction between centers above them. Both tension and cooperation between higher order centers may bring opportunities and threats for the development of peripheral regions located between these centers. Hierarchies of space, in which peripheries are located, are also produced by the interactions of higher order centers. A good example is what Atilla Melegh called the “East-West slope” (Melegh, 2006). Its logic defines the conditions of functioning of all spatial units in the Central-Eastern part of the continent (that is, zones one and two, using the conventions adopted in this book).
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In any case, a conflict-oriented approach assumes that peripheries of all types have a considerably restricted scope of choices and that the development of their social structures is highly dependent on the external forces acting on them. As has been mentioned earlier, the classic choice facing peripheral actors is one between collaboration with the centers and resistance to their domination. In contrast, the new borderlands discourse marginalizes the role of such external factors in the analysis of any internal developments on a regional scale. Borderlands, particularly in their idealistic and optimistic visions, are presented as spaces of freedom and opportunity. They are often imagined as being in many respects even greater than those enjoyed by inhabitants of central regions and metropolises. Borderland ideologists often emphatically argue that core areas are supposed to be dominated by their single mainstream cultures and ideologies. Peripheries, where several cultures meet and compete, supposedly offer a much wider choice of possible identities and lifestyles to their inhabitants who can freely choose their social roles. In such visions, peripheries become incarnations of the post-modern constructivist paradigm of self-constructed and self-reflexive identities. Not surprisingly, idealized images of peripheries are often used to prove the waning role of the nation states, and the advent of a post-national, cosmopolitan era. The new borderland discourse usually includes the questionable assumption of transparency of borders and that of a universal trans-border interaction, both of which assumptions have been mentioned in the introductory chapter. In general, the new borderland discourse may be seen as simultaneously idealistic and highly normative. One could see a discrepancy between normative and descriptive elements in the new borderlands discourse. This often seems to make addressing inter-cultural tension and discussing hidden powerrelations difficult when using this type of discourse. Often, discussion of borderland identity has clear elements of visions of an ideal society to be implemented in regions, which can claim a status of borderlands. Ideal borderlands are characterized by their “openness” and “tolerance”. Ideal inhabitants of borderlands are supposed to be adapted to “otherness”. Diversity, as for example Polish sociologist Grzegorz Babin´ski had suggested, may produce conditions, in which no culture or group dominates, and none aspires to dominate. This is a typical vision of a borderland as a community devoid of power relations, a community that consists of free and equal citizens or even residents, given that “ideal” borderlands are supposed to be open to all newcomers. What is also characteristic for such visions is that they usually assume permeability of borders, which, as has been mentioned at the beginning of this book, may be seen as a typical manifestation of contemporary discourses of space. Crossing legally or illegally the borders of borderlands is supposedly not only easy, but also common, and desirable. A typical resident of a borderland is supposed to be constantly on the move and be surrounded by other people who are also on the move. This ubiquitous movement induces an unprecedented mobility of ideas, cultures and values, which eventually may transform a given region into an incubator of innovations. Let me quote sociologist Zbigniew
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S´wia˛tkowski, who has been writing about the Polish–German borderland in such a characteristic way: confrontation of different cultural experiences effects in multiplicity of viewpoints, greater openness to new ideas, diversity of interpretation. This is a phenomenon particularly conductive to emergence of innovations due to widening of meanings of problems and increasing of possible ways of their solving. (S´wia˛tkowski, 2005: 301) According to Zbigniew Władysław Paszkowski, the classic traits of a borderland region include “susceptibility to change, mobility, adaptability to changing conditions and trends, innovativeness. These traits of the philosophy of the borderland transform a marginal region into region of expansion, innovation, region of cultural melting pot characterized by creative and developmental growth vector.” (Paszkowski, 2011: 87). The opposition between the supposed “diversity of borderlands” and “uniformity of the center” characteristic for the new borderland discourse appears often as contradictory, since, in fact, usually the central, core areas, such as global metropolises, may boast a high diversity and a feeling of personal autonomy, produced by anonymous social relations. Nevertheless, borderlands, in the discourses under consideration, are usually presented as paradoxically very similar to core areas in diversity, openness and, among other positive features, tolerance. This can be interpreted as an attempt of discoursive promotion, or reevaluation, of peripheral regions by means of imagining them as similar to metropolitan areas in terms of characteristics, considered of special importance in the context of postmodern or post-industrial “societies of the future”. One could note that such discourses could be also interpreted as a compensatory offer based on cultural reductionism and directed to peripheral areas by the elites of the core. The offer consists of an act of recognition of the special cultural status of given peripheries, which would be courteously declared as being on equal footing with the cultural status of central areas. This recognition of the supposedly special cultural potential of the peripheries, imagined as multicultural borderlands, assumes the potentiality of their development and offers them a symbolic valuation. The above recognition may be also seen as a politeness strategy directed towards weaker actors. At the same time, however, it silences the dependent location of peripheries, as well as their usually low status in economic and political hierarchies. The recognition of cultural potentiality in many instances turns into a conditional offer for full recognition. In other words, we may see here the compensatory nature of borderland discourses. These discourses, on the one hand, celebrate such supposed assets as superior levels of openness and tolerance, acceptance of otherness, cultural diversity, freedom of identity choice, multitude of perspectives, high potential of innovativeness, ability of crossing borders (especially symbolic) and several others. On the other hand, however,
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the compensatory nature of borderland discourses confines all of them to the cultural sphere and silences more tangible aspects of the status of peripheral regions, such as their economic and political dependency. Moreover, one can question many of the assumptions of the idealized borderland discourses by inquiring into the actual levels of indicators pertaining to social and cultural development, and diversity in specific regions. Their higher values in regions, which may claim status of borderlands, may not always be confirmed by empirical data. One could argue that the above confusion between empirical and normative elements of the borderland discourse makes it an efficient tool for legitimization of power relations or, even, of symbolic violence. On the one hand, the borderland discourse pretends to be a descriptive narrative, an account or generalization of trends, which are supposedly observed in many regions all over the world. On the other hand, it presents an idyllic vision of unlimited possibilities for the development of borderland regions, which can be seen as similar to visions of core areas in terms of potential for development. That optimistic vision is, however, conditional. This transforms the borderland discourse into a normative narrative of how the “truly modern” regions should look like. While the cultural potential of borderlands, supposedly comparable to those of central areas, is admitted, it is imagined as a “task”, set for the region. Sometimes, the message of borderland discourses, in particular, if it comes from a core area and is directed to peripheries, seems to be that of a promise. A borderland region, if it mobilizes its resources, can become one day a new Silicon Valley. However, this would happen only if the borderland region achieves a similar degree of cultural and ethnic diversity as California’s famous high-tech belt. At the same time, it is suggested that factors like cultural diversity, openness and tolerance were the crucial factors leading to the economic success of such regions as the Silicon Valley. At least, this is the message coming from the work of authors like Richard Florida. Florida, in his The Rise of the Creative Class (Florida, 2004), argued that cultural diversity is the key to economic success. So, what is expected of most borderlands is primarily a mobilization of their cultural resources and the smart use of those resources. This can allow the borderlands to become new centers of growth, as well as to attract investments and human resources from all over the world. To achieve this task of turning their peripheral character into centrality, borderland regions have, of course, to develop a full awareness of the potential that their region possesses. This awareness development requires a mental transformation on the part of the inhabitants of borderland regions, which includes internalizing modern borderland values, becoming aware of their regions’ symbolic resources, and developing a vision of their regions as spaces full of possibilities rather than constraints. A characteristic feature of the borderland discourses, therefore, is that they blend descriptive and normative elements in a single narrative. On the one hand, borderlands are identified as regions that are inherently multicultural, diverse, open, tolerant and creative. On the other hand, they are expected to
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fully develop these traits and, especially, to be able to capitalize on them in ways that are comparable to those of multicultural metropolises. Such discourse of the borderlands’ “hidden potential” or of their not fully used potentials can be seen as a tool for legitimization of their subordinate status. It is, in fact, assumed that the “potential of diversity and innovativeness” is there, but that potential may not be fully employed in the economic development processes, as is the case with the majority of core areas. Thus, borderlands are expected to mobilize their inhabitants so that they could capitalize on the borderlands’ unique cultural features. At the same time, borderlands are presented as almost independent of outside pressures, or, even, as areas of unique freedom or limited social constraints. Thus, any of the borderlands’ economic or other problems will appear as largely stemming from their inability to fully profit from their own cultural resources of diversity and creativity. In effect, the responsibility for a given region’s status is removed from external actors, i.e. from dominant centers. Instead, it is assigned to its inhabitants and institutions. This mechanism may be seen as an element of the much wider tendency of relocation of responsibility (in particular, of a political one) from political and higher level institutions to lower level actors (in particular, individuals). It may also be seen as based on cultural reductionism, whose power allows silencing of the economic and political mechanism of dependency. In the new borderlands discourse, proliferation of such mechanisms of individualization of responsibility, or their relocation to lower levels of political hierarchies, may be linked to the increasing reliance on what Michel Foucault called governability techniques (Foucault, 1980). On the other hand, and more specifically, these mechanisms can be linked to the rise to prominence of governability techniques in regional politics. This rise to prominence is particularly well manifested in the emergence of the above mentioned discourse of “new regionalism” and in its related models of redefinition of models of governance. Authors writing about new regionalism (e.g. Keating, 1998; Larner and Walters, 2002; Scott, 2009) point to several common characteristics of this diverse set of discourses, which include ideas of transforming regions into self-reliant actors who compete on the global scene for different types of resources, in particular, for economic capital and human resources. Cumbers, MacKinnon and McMaster mention a tendency that is clearly manifested in the new regionalism discourse, namely, to reify the region over other geographical scales as an object of empirical inquiry and a site of policy intervention (e.g. Cumbers et al., 2003). The new regionalism often imagines regions as corporations which are supposed to offer their inhabitants, imagined as clients, certain products. However, according to the new regionalism, regions are also supposed to develop corporate identities in the form of clear and attractive regional identities. Theoreticians of the new regionalism expect that regions should stop looking up to their nation state for assistance, directives and support. Decentralization and retreat from the nation state are promoted as inevitable processes, which would force regions to take the responsibility for their own well-being in their own hands. Regions’ administrators are
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encouraged to take advantage of all their resources in order to attract companies to invest in high tech industries and to hire highly qualified employees. Culture is often an important part of the suggested measures that lead to improvement of the region’s attractiveness and to mobilization of its inhabitants. After all, it is culture, in particular, cultural diversity, that is supposed to stimulate innovativeness of all types, which is regarded as a fundament for the development of a region in economic and other dimensions. New regionalism can be, in fact, seen as centered on the finding of an optimal model for economic development. Its critics, such as John Lovering, called it even a “theory led by policy” (Lovering, 1999). In any case, it may be seen as a discourse focused on generating policy recommendations and strongly reliant on neo-liberal assumptions. The new borderlands discourse seems to enter into synergy with the new regionalism discourse, in which culture plays an important role as a key source of economic dynamism. Another important feature of the new regionalism discourse, which it shares with new borderlands discourse, is what Cumbers, MacKinnon and McMaster identified as neglect of power and politics in relation to potential intraregional tensions and divisions, as well as to the effects of wider processes of uneven development and political-economic regulation (Cumbers et al. 2003). Interestingly, some of the borderland theoreticians explicitly contrast their new discourse with the old discourses on the eastern borderlands, including the discourse on Kresy. In such an approach, the move from the old Kresy discourse to the new borderlands discourse may be seen a measure of social progress and, at the same time, as a specific task, set for the regions. Justyna Karaszewska argued, for example, that, “Borderlands, in contrast to Kresy are characterized by multiplicity of perspectives. Contacts between two or more nations or ethnic groups are built on the space of borderland.” (Kraszewska, 2008: 150–51). Karaszewska argues that borderlands are always characterized by intermingling of cultures, and that “cohabitation of several ethnic groups on their territory produces openness of attitudes”. She also characteristically argues that “irrespectively of their peripheral location, borderlands are European spaces” (Kraszewska, 2008: 151). According to the same author, Kresy in contrast: always have their frontier, they have their ‘limes’, there are a marked territory, a territory mastered or even dominated by one culture. Diversity is present in Kresy, it builds their value. But the diversity of Kresy is at the same time in a position of minority in relation to the ‘official’, national culture. This is why the political actors in Kresy always put such a strong emphasis on nationality. ‘Polishness’ of Kresy existed in contact with otherness of minorities. (Kraszewska, 2008: 151) Thus as Karaszewska argues: Kresy approach the limes, while borderlands transgress it. ( … ) Kresy, despite their diversity, are not able to cross the frontier of their culture.
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The new borderlands discourse They persist protecting their own values, which have a ‘bulwark’ character. They are vulnerable to all external influences, and because of their location, obliged to preserve their values. In contrast, borderland exists only when it creates co-existence, consonance of different values, languages and traditions. That consonance produces a melting pot, a mixture – a borderland. (Kraszewska, 2008: 152)
Dariusz Wojakowski (Wojakowski, 2003) builds a more general contrast between old and new borderland philosophies. As he argues: the old borderlands are territorial, historical, transitional. Social groups inhabiting them in effect of mutual penetration of cultures are relatively similar, while relations between cultures were characterized by domination of one of the cultures until recently. The new borderlands are usually symbolic, ahistorical, contact borderlands. Groups inhabiting them are in symmetrical relations, but they maintain in the same time their limits and social distances. (Wojakowski, 2003) One could note that Wojakowski seems to suggest that relations of power and territorially defined inequalities are slowly becoming structures of the past. In Kasperski’s view the Kresy discourse: often appears as a discourse openly or secretly polemical, its meanings are fractured, internally ideologized. It articulates and confronts location, subjective experiences and arguments of different, often antagonized parties. For these reasons it also often assumes an axiological, interpretative and ideological character. But not only that. The Kresy discourse in a wider perspective becomes an explicit or implicit discourse of possession, of claims and resentments, in other words discourse of power in the Foucaultian understanding of that word. (Kasperski, 2007: 98–99) Characteristically, Kasperski assigns Foucaultaian characteristics of power discourse only to the Kresy discourse, while perceiving borderlands discourses as neutral and descriptive. In a similar way, Grzegorz Babin´ski classifies the Kresy discourse as ideological but does not see any ideological aspects in the borderlands discourses. Babin´ski, in particular, introduces a notion of “ideologies of borderland”. Ironically, his own version of borderlands discourses is not presented as a new type of borderland ideology, while discourses on Kresy, the American “Moving Frontier”, Russian Siberia and the Prussian Eastern borderland are identified as cases of “borderland ideologies” (Babin´ski, 1997: 51). Let me, therefore, reflect on how one could reconstruct the contemporary discourse on borderlands as their new ideology. First, we could note that this
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type of discourse is characterized by disappearance of the old normative frame that divides the symbolic social space into two fundamental parts: the positive, “our” side, which is supposedly “civilized” and needs to be defended against the negative, “other” side, one that represents backwardness, and danger, and that requires protection from, although one that also possibly may provide some positive inspirations. This binary distinction is absent in the new borderlands discourse. The latter proclaims all the actors of the borderland to be equal on all sides of the border regions. At the same time, it introduces new, often implicit, distinctions. They may be based on attitudes towards idealistic visions of the borderland and its future. These visions can involve images of the borderlands as being multicultural creative melting pots or as being spaces of flows and free interactions, which can supposedly provide basis for a thriving social world. A world full of passion, mutual support and understanding that provides a basis for sound economic development of regions and states, and that is fueled by the stream of innovations and positive social energy, stemming from stimulating inter-cultural interactions. The formal borders, in particular, the political and administrative frontiers, as well as ethnic, social, cultural or religious divisions are supposed to be ignored, or treated as irrelevant. Cultural interaction should thrive over all these outdated barriers. However, as it appears, there are still people who treat them seriously, believe in their legitimacy and divide the inhabitants of peripheries into “us” and “them”. These inward-looking individuals are not able to share the enthusiasm for the progressive vision of the new borderland, reconstructed above, or they may not be aware of it. These are the people of the “past” who are not able and do not want to embrace the new logic of the borderlands. This is how the new internal division in the borderlands discourse is usually introduced. The inhabitants of the region are symbolically classified into “us” (the people of the future) and “them” (the people of the past). The latter may be presented as backward, those who still perceive their neighbors on the other side of borders and cleavages as “others”. On the other, “good” side we have the people of the “future”, those who realized the potential of their borderland regions and perceive their regions as spaces of possibilities, rather than as spaces of threats, divisions or conflicts. They look into the future with confidence, as they know that taking full advantage of the borderlands’ diversity requires considerable efforts and positive thinking. The distinction between the people of the past and the people of the future could be considered as the key frame of the new borderland ideology of Eastness. One of its interesting incarnations was proposed by Joanna Kurczewska (Kurczewska, 2005). Writing about “patterns of living in the borderland”, Kurczewska modeled borderlands as based on a distinction between its inhabitants, characterized by a negative “orientation towards the border”, and those who manifested a positive “orientation towards the borderland”. The first negative pattern, identified by Kurczewska, as she characterizes it: is manifesting itself in production of a compensatory awareness by peripheral local communities. It can be characterized as a syndrome of the
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The new borderlands discourse ‘besieged fortress’. Such consciousness is produced by autarkic, xenophobic and demanding attitudes, which are the superstructure in relation to the structure of the physical and social space, its division into the ‘our’ and ‘foreign’ space. (Kurczewska, 2005: 374)
The other, positive pattern in Kurczewska’s model is: focused on attitude of openness manifested by attempts at capitalizing on own traumatic experiences related to living near the border and finding oneself in a situation of borderland. Uses of these experiences are transformed into social capital, they are sources of life’s wealth, wealth of imagination. (Kurczewska, 2005: 374) This pattern of “living in the borderland” is supposed to: allow a deep self-cognition which will nullify the syndrome of besieged fortress and lead to emergence of a new pattern of emotional and intellectual reactions based on idea of harmony, cooperation or at least tolerance. (Kurczewska, 2005: 374) Marian Kempny presented a very similar model of a new borderland ideology based on the opposition between the people of the past, living on the border, and the people of the future, living on the borderland. In particular, he expressed his disappointment that: the ‘identity of the borderland’ understood as an ability of domesticating cultural differences, or as an ability of building identity based on a project giving priority to ‘cultural wealth’ resulting from diversity, could not be identified among majority of the inhabitants of the studied region. (Kempny, 2005: 141) At the same time, Kempny expressed his hope that such identities, even if not yet very popular, will spread out with time. This spread would be stimulated, according to him, by the increasing individualization of societies, which would also impact the nature of borders in Europe. Andrzej Sadowski (Sadowski, 2008) proposed a similar, although more complex, classification of the borderlands’ inhabitants. Just like Kempny, Sadowski found very few fellow inhabitants in his native Podlasie region who could fall into the most “progressive” category of citizens of the borderland of the future. Sadowski distinguished between three types of group identities to be found in the borderlands. First, there were the old-style “fundamentalists”, second, there were classical borderland identities, and finally, there were those possessing inter-border identities. The fundamentalist identities, according to Sadowski’s approach, are constructed around defensive motives and are characterized by values referring to the group’s purity. Typical borderland identities are characterized by
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lack of cultural roots, and by a tendency of distancing oneself from one’s cultural identity and from activities of the native group. The most advanced, but, at the same time, the rarest is the “inter-border identity” characterized by its multi-cultural nature. The outlook for growth of numbers of people who could be classified in the last, most progressive category is not very optimistic, according to Sadowski. As he noted pessimistically, people changing their identities are usually not valued in the borderlands. This view seems to be quite opposite to Kempny’s optimism concerning the prospects of a spread of liberal attitudes. One could note that the cleavage, discussed by the theoreticians of the new borderland, may be, in fact, seen as a form of the center-periphery cleave, mentioned in the introductory chapter. One, in which the liberal wing usually leans towards the broadly defined West and is confronted by the antiWestern or Western-skeptic conservative camp. As we know, in many regions of Central and Eastern Europe, peripheral conservative forces clearly dominate and this could be seen as an argument for the more pessimistic view of Sadowski. In any case, the opposition between the border-oriented and the borderland-oriented inhabitants of peripheries may be seen as a new incarnation of the center-periphery cleavage. The borderland-oriented elite and its intelligentsia-leaning followers could be interpreted as the peripheral procenter option. The “silent majority” of border-oriented inhabitants of a marginal region would represent the peripheral option, one that resists the adoption of the new ideologies of the core. Another reason for the possible resistance to the new borderland ideology is that the “open” and “borderland-oriented” attitudes, touted and propagated by liberal theoreticians of the new borderlands, require specific resources from those who adopt them. These are, in particular, resources typical for intelligentsia members. They include high levels of cultural capital, and, more specifically, the ability to theorize cultural processes and competences in several cultures. At the same time, economic resources are also very useful for those aspiring to join the borderland-oriented elite. Crossing boundaries, entering into contact with representatives of other cultures, generating innovations, and several other typical borderlands activities require tangible material, in particular, financial resources. Thus, in the Polish context, the borderlands discourse can be seen as a new peripheral intelligentsia identity project. At the same time, it may also be seen as a new narrative for eastern Poland as well as for other peripheral regions. First of all, however, it can be seen as a perfect identity for liberal intelligentsia, which requires typical intelligentsia resources, both material and embodied (stable income, education, activity in cultural field) as well as the ability to benefit from those. Ivana Spasic´ noted a similar problem with the discourse on cosmopolitanism, which can be seen as belonging to the same category of new identities, adopted by pro-European liberals in Central and Eastern Europe. As Spasic´ notes: One has to have resources to practice cosmopolitanism homologous dichotomies operative in the cultural world of local cosmopolitanism:
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One can indeed point to several homologies between this basic set of oppositions in the new borderlands discourse, and the oppositions in the global neo-liberal discourse of individualism, innovation and the knowledge-based economy. The fundamental structures of these global discourses have been already discussed by several scholars. Pierre Bourdieu and Loïc Wacquant labeled them a “NeoLiberal Newspeak” or “the new planetary vulgate” (Bourdieu and Wacquant, 2001). They have summarized the elementary forms of neo-liberal thought in a set of the following oppositions, which are imagined as a gradual replacement of the state by the market as a result of globalization. These oppositions include moves from “constraint” to “freedom”, from “closed” to “open”; from “rigid” to “flexible”; from “immobile, fossilized” to “dynamic, moving, self-transforming”; from “past, outdated” to “future, novelty”; from “stasis” to “growth”; from “group, lobby, holism, collectivism” to “individual, individualism”; from “uniformity, artificiality” to “diversity, authenticity”; from “autocratic (‘totalitarian’)” to “democratic”. Binary oppositions of the liberal academic-expert discourse are identified in Poland by Michał Buchowski (Buchowski, 2006). These oppositions, already mentioned in the introductory part of the book, could be considered as one of the Central-Eastern European incarnations of the global frame and as parallel to the new borderlands discourse. Let me remind the reader that Buchowski’s scheme included such pairs of oppositions as Homo Sovieticus versus Homo Westernicus, anti-intellectualism versus intellectualism, aversion to elites versus respect for elites, double standards for private and public life versus unified standards for any sphere of life, acceptance for meager performance versus contempt for meager performance. Thus, the desired evolution from border-oriented to borderland-oriented attitudes and identities could be probably seen as homologous to transformations from “closed” to “open” as well as from a post-communist Homo Sovieticus identity to a neo-liberal Homo-Westernicus identity. In this context, we can note that the discourse on borderlands may be seen as the ideology of the liberal intelligentsia, which naturalizes its privileged position and masks its economic and political aspects. Besides, the new borderlands discourse may be seen as one of the discoursive recontextualizations of global neo-liberal discourses of power. The linkages to global discoursive formations of neo-liberalism legitimize the new borderlands discourse and reinforce the status of peripheral intelligentsia members as important intermediaries in the hierarchical system of power. In this context, Ivana Spasic´’s critical notes on cosmopolitanism could be referred to again. Thus, one may suggests that even if particular actors, referring to the new borderlands discourse, do not intent to activate other social schemes related to it, as, for example, the global oppositions or
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regional center-periphery cleavages, they may be perceived as implicitly invoking them because of the effects of social context. Such mechanism was noted by Ivana Spasic´ who wrote from a “Western Balkans” perspective about the implication of uses of the cosmopolitan discourse. Spasic´ argues, in particular, that: cosmopolitanism is relatively strongly associated with social privilege and specific self-positioning of groups claiming elite status, precisely because of the region’s particular location on the global geosymbolic map – which in turn reflects international imbalances of economic wealth, political power, and military might. In addition, in the region discourses and practices interpretable as cosmopolitan can hardly be banal and routine, eschewing political and ideological readings. Willingly or not, actors engaging in such practices are seen as manifesting a political choice. This of course is not to say that such connections are non-existent in the West, but they are much less salient and less inevitable. (Spasic´, 2011: 278) An interesting case study of an intelligentsia circle involved in the production of the new borderlands discourse is the “Pogranicze” (Borderland) Foundation, which has been established in 1990 in the small town of Sejny in North-Eastern Poland. The foundation runs its Borderland Publishing House, which is famous for publishing such well-known books as Jan Tomasz Gross’s monograph on the pogrom of Jews in Jedwabne, entitled Sa˛siedzi or Neighbors in English (Gross, 2000). It has also published many books by a host of Western and East-Central European intellectuals. The foundation has been set up by a collective of . intellectuals and artists, led by Krzysztof Czyzewski. It defines its mission broadly as, to quote Magdalena Zaborowska: the reinvention of the agora, by which it understands a democratic space for open exchange of ideas in the contemporary world. The foundation’s specific activities span regional and international locations and center on the artistic rediscovery, preservation, and promotion of the East European borderlands’ rich multicultural and multilingual heritage. Ideologically, their goal is humanistic: to overcome regional and nationalistic divisions and to build bridges between local ethnic groups, thus promoting dialogues among various, and at times conflicting, identities, memories, and religions. In effect, the foundation’s cultural activities dare to redefine the very notions of patriotism and participatory democracy for individuals, communities, and nations alike. (Zaborowska, 2009) Interestingly, the foundation uses the notion of “borderland” to refer to spatial units on several levels: from local to supra-national. The entire region of Central Europe (or Central Eastern Europe) is also often imagined as a
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borderland. In this way, the discourse of the foundation clearly relates to Western discourses on borderless and transparent new Europe, where old hierarchies and barriers are supposedly waning. Its manifestation could be found in Gerard Delanty’s arguments who suggests that “the external border of Europe should be understood in terms of re-territorialization and this border, which is closer to a borderland, challenges conventional understandings of the border as a fixed line of demarcation between an inside and an outside” (Delanty, 2009: 227). Delanty, moreover, suggested that entire Europe is now “best understood as a borderland and one that is today taking an increasingly post-Western form” (Delanty, 2009: 227). . Adam Kola argues that Krzysztof Czyzewski, the founder and president of Pogranicze, uses the category of borderland as a central element of his philosophy. To quote Kola: Central Europe is borderland Europe: borderlands of arts, cultures, . nations, religions, history. Central Europe – according to Czyzewski, but also e.g. to Danilo Kis˘ – becomes sunken Atlantis. Therefore, if Central Europe is to exist, a traveler must discover unknown lands, lost civilizations, mark out new trails. Central Europe is really functioning spiritual space, where the past (lost civilization of Atlantis, and traces of the vanished glory), the presence (with its problems, destruction, oblivion, wars, collapses) and the future (hoping for positive change, with prepared program of this change) meet. (Kola, 2011) One could note that in such a perspective the mobilization of the potential of the borderland requires yet another skill: the ability to rediscover “lost civilizations” or “forgotten cultures”. Such an ability may be seen as one of the unique intelligentsia skills, legitimized by and legitimizing its symbolic domination. The process of discovery of “lost civilizations”, at the same time, produces a symbolic division of inhabitants of peripheries between those, who are able to discover or at least recognize their “lost cultural treasures”, and those, who may not be even aware of them. One could also interpret the project of imagining the entire region as a borderland as an attempt to redefine Europe’s eastern periphery into a “neutral” borderland, and, in this way, to mask the dependence and marginality of the region, following what I called earlier the doxa of dependence. Magdalena Zaborowska, while discussing the discourse on new borderlands as it is professed by the foundation, has also pointed out the importance of the recognition, which this type of discourse enjoys among several intellectuals of the Western core. As she notes: . Czyzewski wrote in S´ciez˙ ka pogranicza (The Path of the Borderland, 2001) that the culture of the nation-state is ‘that of the gatekeeper. Closed. [It is one that] erases all traces of the Other, opposing and forgetting it.’ The borderland, in contrast, ‘is a life-giving buffer zone ( … )
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protecting diversity. ( … ) [it] does not erode the borders, but rather expands the sphere that they encompass, absorbing those who live there, accepting their intermingling as a matter of course.’ Most important, the ‘borderland is an agora. Here he [sic] who is not in dialogue with others simply . vegetates on the periphery’ (Czyzewski, 2001: 14). ‘( … ) The goal is to develop ‘everyday practices which create open communities in areas where different national, ethnic, religious and cultural minorities co-exist, and to find and develop means to preserve traditional cultures, sometimes also minority cultures,’ as well as to share those with communities from other parts of the world and to learn from them. As the New York Times . wrote about Czyzewski, he ‘has based his life’s work on pushing the limits of borders, whether it involves going beyond the acceptable, bringing the past to the present, or bridging one country or culture with another.’ . Appropriately, Czyzewski was named Ambassador of the European Year of Intercultural Dialogue in 2008. (Zaborowska, 2009: 15) These excellent global relations, of which the foundation can be proud, can be contrasted with the problems it encounters in its interactions with the inhabitants of the village, where it is based. Mikołaj Gurdała presented a very interesting study of the reception of the actions of the foundation by a local community. He relied on the language of that local community to describe reactions to ideals of multi-culturalism. In his view, “Pogranicze” seems more as institution for external actors rather than for the local community” (Gurdała, 2005: 269). He also concluded that: the program of the ‘open regionalism’ and locality may have characteristic of abstract muliti-culturalism, a ready-made plan which may be seen as imposed from outside, which in a specific way is trying to define the local community and its members. In such case multi-culturalism is only a plan, rather than a real effort at reworking the actual social reality. (Gurdała, 2005: 270) Gurdała noted a common suspicion shared among the inhabitants of Sejny towards the foundation. They also expressed their prejudices, perceived the foundation’s members as Jews, and speculated about the unclear sources of its founding. As Gurdała reported, inhabitants of Sejny village often complained that: all ethnic groups in Sejny [that is Lithuanians and Jews] have their own cultural centers, while Poles don’t. They are in this way suggesting that ‘Pogranicze’ is not representing Poles but Jews. As an argument, they advance the fact that the majority of events organized by the centers concerns Jewish themes. (Gurdała, 2005: 265)
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This “resistance” of Sejny’s inhabitants and their lack of trust towards the foundation may be seen as aspects of the regional level center-periphery cleavage, in which the attitude towards “Europe”, or the West, is replaced by attitudes towards the specific institution which is perceived as the proxy of global forces. Similar tensions between regional Euro-enthusiastic elite and the local conservative elites were identified by Juraj Buzalka in south-east Poland (Buzalka, 2006). Buzalka saw them as aspects of what he called conflict between cultures’ “traditional agrarian tolerance” and the new “artificial tolerance”, spread by NGO intellectuals who introduce modern notions of multiculturalism on a local ground. As Buzalka argued, the traditional agrarian tolerance was based on pre-capitalist patterns of everyday co-existence, often outside of the state and the official economy. It offered patterns of coexistence of local cultures and an alternative model for economic development, often driven by Catholicism and expressed in terms of social justice in relation to problems created by capitalism, which model also defended traditional “Christian Europe”. Traditional agrarian tolerance has survived socialism and post-socialism, but currently it is challenged by patterns of tolerance introduced through EU discourses and policies, which are fostered by the elites and generated by the demands of the market. The “artificial tolerance” may be, thus, seen as local recontextualization of EU-related policies of multiculturalism, media influence, heritage preservation, and tourist industry. One could note that the new discourse of the borderland, although usually distancing itself from the orientalist character of the “old borderland ideologies”, such as the Kresy discourse, could be also accused of manifesting some orientalist tendencies. In particular, the borderland in its framework could be seen as a culturalized concept. The borderland is not a threat to the center as Said’s Orient was. Still, just like in the Orient’s case, borderlands’ main characteristics are defined in terms of such features as religion, ethnicity or history. These are dimensions in which borderlands’ main assets are supposed to be located. At the same time, the economic and political aspects of the borderlands’ location in the wider geographical space are usually omitted or marginalized. This makes even much idealized images of borderlands asymmetrical in relation to images of core areas. Borderlands, in effect, often appear as more or less “exotic”. They are, in a way, zones where cultural diversity of the period before the advent of the nation state’s era was historically frozen. Borderlands’ pre-modern cultural complexity is celebrated but, at the same time, it is obvious that, in most cases, this cultural complexity is very far from the postmodern diversity produced by processes of spectacular economic growth and social transformations. Besides the general orientalization of borderlands as areas, characterized by their specific cultural resources, we can encounter two other aspects of hidden forms of orientalism in borderland discourses. The first one could be called internal, and pertains to the above discussed distinction between the inhabitants of the region. On the one hand, there are those, “still” oriented towards the border which is defined as a barrier, and, on the other hand, there are those, “already” oriented towards the borderland as a
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space of flows and possibilities. One could argue that the “backward” borderoriented group, although often criticized for its orientalism, may be also seen as orientalized by the discourse of new borderlands. Next to it, the discourse of the borderland may display elements of what could be called “external orientalism”. It would, in particular, take the form of asymmetrical visions of borderlands, visions in which the weakness of one of the border’s sides is reinterpreted in often implicit cultural terms. A typical example of such orientalization is the representation of the “Eastern partners” in a given borderland (where the East–West distinction is introduced), as characterized predominantly by their cultural assets. What is, however, a fundamental hallmark of the new borderland discourse is its redefinition of the previously geographical division (usually defined along the East–West axis) into a social frontier (a cleavage between border-oriented and borderlands-oriented inhabitants of the region). At the same time, the new borderlands discourse may be seen as maintaining the two key tenets of the old Kresy discourse and of most other “ideologies of Eastness”, namely, the dependence doxa and the intelligentsia doxa. It allows the opportunity to “mask” the dependent status of peripheral regions with the use of the label “borderlands”, thus complicating debates about wider forces that shape social relations at regional level. Simultaneously, the new borderlands discourse, as it was already mentioned, naturalizes the privileged role of the intelligentsia by defining the social situation as one that requires an active involvement of the intelligentsia in a borderland’s efforts to meet the ideals of the “true” borderland identity. While there are not too many open critiques of the new borderlands ideology yet, there exist already some interesting critiques of regional identity discourses, based on idealized visions of a multicultural paradise that is emancipated . from power relations. An interesting example is Grazyna Woroniecka’s critique of the uses of ethnic identities in building images of multicultural regions. Woroniecka points out that seemingly individual decisions that concern ethnic identities as well as other identity choices and declarations, are usually strongly influenced by nation-wide legislation. Thus, regional communities are very much conditioned by formal and institutional factors, usually ignored by ideologues of borderlands. On the other hand, as she argues: diverse interests groups, in particular those representing ethnic minorities, are often able to considerably alter legislation pertaining to the sphere of their interests. Ignoring the political character of organization of the public sphere (in particular when analyzing territorial aspects of cultural and ethnic policies) effects in unconscious or implicit involvement in the making of these national policies, either by its neutralization and legitimization or its contestation. (Woroniecka, 2003: 115) More generally, Woroniecka argues that visions of a nationally-neutral country may be seen as an idealization. As she writes, “the greater the degree of
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political inclusion, the stronger is the tendency to impose specific regulations presented as uniform for all cohabiting cultures, at the same time restricting the role of the particularistic regulations of specific groups” (Woroniecka, 2003: 124). Thus, she points out to the importance of power relations between ethnic and other groups as well as to the role of external forces, such as the state with its regulation, and the supra-national institutions and forces. In a similar vein, Cumbers, MacKinnon and McMaster argue that the new regionalism discourse, in particular, in its form of “regional innovation system” and “learning regions” theories: underplay the significance of certain differences and division within regions and the forms of political expression that these can generate. Important divisions might include those between an elite of business leaders and state managers and the majority of residents; between the private and public sectors; between representatives of overseas-owned capital and indigenous business; and between different geographical areas. (Cumbers et al. 2003: 332) Moreover Cumbers, MacKinnon and McMaster argue that: a neo-Gramscian concept of hegemonic projects is of considerable interest here, providing a means of analyzing the formation of regional coalitions in relation to the construction of regional identities and the inclusion and exclusion of certain groups. (Cumbers et al. 2003) One could note that not only the regional identity discourse but all discourses on Central and Eastern Europe could be seen as having aspects of mechanisms that regulate the politics of inclusion and exclusion of European peripheries. The critics of the regional identity discourse complain about aspects of these discourses that define peripheries as “others” and that are involved in the process of the symbolic exclusion of Central and Eastern Europe from Western Europe, which is seen as the essence of Europeanness. On the other hand, they insist on the inclusion of specific experiences of the region into the common cannon of European history or identity, that is, they demand inclusion, but one based on recognition of difference. The processes of production of discourses on the region could be seen as a constant negotiation of the lines of exclusion and inclusion, particularly that between the elites of the region and the dominant actors of the core. For specific actors, the lines of division between the European core and its peripheries should be drawn in different places and in different dimensions. Thus, for example, for some, it is important to stress on the difference between Central European and Western experiences, while for others the most important is an emphasis on commonalities and meeting points within the framework of a common political value system. We can see here a classic dilemma between recognition of
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difference and exclusion/exclusion, which may be caused by it. Central European actors want their region to be recognized as fully European, while, on the other hand, they also expect recognition of its uniqueness and difference. Western partners are, of course, ready to offer several concessions in this respect, but their readiness and also ability to include peripheral narratives to the mainstream discourses of the core is restricted. Rhetorical recognition of the diversity of cultures and identities of the entire European continent may, of course, include a very wide scope of different narratives and projects, but their position in the hierarchies of sub-fields of the core field of power will be usually low. At stake in such context are, of course, the cannons of Western European history, the canons of Western European identity and the place of particular Central European nations in the hierarchies of European cannons of culture. The symbolic locations of Central European actors in these Western European fields do not simply result from mechanic recognition of the cultural achievements of these cultures and from an interest in the history of these nations. Placement in such hierarchies is highly implicated in political and economic processes. Educational institutions, media, academia, politics and cultural industry are some of the key arenas where placement in cultural and political hierarchies is being negotiated. One could argue that inclusion may be based on two different mechanisms. Either by recognition of the relatively separate identity of the peripheries as being part of the wider core’s identity, or as a result of a formal inclusion of the peripheries, followed by an expectation that they will adapt to the dominant canon of the core’s identity. Given that the readiness of the core to reshape its canons is restricted, one can expect peripheral actors to either insist on their region’s autonomy which involves relative isolation from the core, or to conduct a policy of adaptation of the peripheral identities to core’s canons. Similar choices may face decision makers from the core, who can either choose policies of unification with peripheries or respect their autonomy. What is important is that any choice will involve a specific set of transformations in the peripheral fields of power, as the external conditions of their functioning will change considerably. Dilemmas between policies of inclusion and exclusion have been widely discussed by several theoreticians on multicultural societies. Charles Taylor (Taylor, 1994), for example, saw irreducible contradictions between, on the one hand, policies of dignity and individual rights and, on the other hand, policies of difference that emphasize the diversity of identities of individuals and groups. His preference was clearly for the latter, as he argued that the policy of individual rights pushes individuals into the hands of dominant cultures. Taylor saw the neutrality of the policy of dignity and individual rights as well as that of the policy of liberalism as superficial. His ideal model of multiculturalism was a fusion of minority cultures with features of the dominant one. Such fusion, in Taylor’s view, is not only supposed to impact peripheral cultures but would also displace the dominant cultural “horizon” (Taylor, 1994: 73). One may note that the specific mechanisms of that “fusion”, including rules of interaction between dominant and dominated cultures as well as rules of
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negotiations of new forms of dominant cultural hierarchies or “horizons”, will remain crucial aspects of the process of power sharing. They are, however, usually not explicitly discussed by most theoreticians. This is the case with Gerard Delanty, who advanced his own concept of “cosmopolitan multiculturalism”. As Delanty argued, his cosmopolitan conception “goes considerably beyond conventional liberal and communitarian approaches in that it opens up the possibility of the achievement of unity through diversity” (Delanty, 2009: 148). Delanty presented it as a next step in the development of civil society following the one of “egalitarian multiculturalism”, which “aims to transcend social fragmentation and create a common public culture in which all groups participate. Liberal multiculturalism, in contrast, has in fact only a limited commitment to the creation of a common public culture” (Delanty, 2009: 148). In other words, “a common public culture” is supposed to replace the old common national culture. Delanty argues that: One of the key aspects of this is the creation of a common public culture achieved through communicative deliberation. In this conception of public culture, unity is neither presupposed nor reduced to a purely procedural normative system of rights. It is possible to conceive of a multicultural society based less on difference than on the discursive negotiation of difference. Thus, instead of presupposing discreet cultural groups, as in liberal multiculturalism, a cosmopolitan perspective requires the internal transformation of all groups in a process of ongoing deliberation and interpretation. Unlike postmodern or radical multiculturalism, cosmopolitan multiculturalism does not jettison the possibility of creating a common public culture. However, this is not a pre-existing normative system, but an ongoing deliberative process that is created through the active contribution of all groups. Cosmopolitan multiculturalism thus entails an emphasis on deliberative public communication through which all groups, including the mainstream society, undergo transformation in their self-understanding. While for the present time this can be best conceived on a national basis, there is no reason why it cannot also be developed on a wider and more global scale whereby a fusion of the horizons of collective identities occurs. (Delanty, 2009: 156) One could note that the transition from traditional multiculturalism to Delanty’s new cosmopolitan multiculturalism reveals clear similarities to the transition from the old Kresy discourse to the new borderlands paradigm discussed in this chapter. An old model of integration, supposedly dominated by one particular culture, is to be replaced by a new, this time fully dialogic and universal model, in which equality of all cultures will be finally guaranteed. The discourse of the new borderlands can be seen as an attempt to build such a new universalism, or a particular version of it suitable for peripheral areas: one, which would be presented as even more inclusive and, at the same time,
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not attempting to impose its own cultural frames on its members. This process of emergence of consecutive redefinitions of old forms of universalism, of deconstruction of previous neutral frames of social integration and of design of new, allegedly even more neutral and equal universalism will probably never end. Along that process, new ideologies of Eastness, defined as local forms of universalism, will probably replace each other at a similar pace. As it seems, achieving perfect conditions for dialogue and cooperation will never be possible, given the fact that any dialogue and all negotiations have to be conducted under some specific cultural and moral rules, which will have to be accepted by or imposed on all parts of the contract. With time, change in global hierarchies of cultures, and an ascent to power of consecutive new “young” elites, it will appear that the previous forms of universalism will again and again appear to be biased and structured by some particular cultural and moral system. In this context, I would like to return to the distinction between public and critical sociology, proposed by Burawoy and discussed earlier in this book. What I would like to suggest is that the continuous search for new forms of universalism, mentioned above, could be seen as one of the main vocations of public sociology which is oriented towards ideals for society’s improvement. At the same time, critical sociology could rather focus on deconstructing the structures of competing models of claims to universalism, both old and new. This would increase the awareness of the implicit rules by which all those, involved in processes of social integration and dialog, are governed. One could note here that the “dialogic” approach in social sciences is usually related to influences by the famous Russian scholar Mikhail Bakhtin. However, the way contemporary proponents of dialogic models of an ideal society use Bakhtin’s notions of poliphony and dialogue may be questioned. As I would argue, Bakhtin did not offer his model as a frame of reference that allows the measurement of particular literary works or social situations on the normative scale of dialogism, as it is currently often implied. What Bakhtin rather suggested was that any literary work, even one seemingly monologic in its formal structure, may be read as involved in some dialogic interaction. In other words, what Bakhtin asserted was that all novels are polyphonic and monologues do not in fact exist. Monologue may be seen as a decontextualized part of a wider dialogue, and, in a Bakhtinian perspective, it is our task as analysts to find the missing context and to reconstruct the wider dialogic structure, in which a given text or utterance was involved. Such reconstructions will always be partial and subjective, but they always broaden our knowledge of a given text or social action. In other words, while public sociology would primarily be concerned with building normative models of dialogic communities and with assessing models, proposed by others, in terms of their dialogic character, the task of critical sociology could be defined as a search for an implicit dialogic mechanism which can be found in any model of social order or ideological discourse. What I would, therefore, suggest to critical sociologists is to focus their attention not so much on attempts of
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measuring the quality of a dialogue and the level of cooperation in particular ideological projects or discourses but rather on reconstructing the ways they define dialogue and cooperation. Most importantly, these dialogic mechanisms, which could be seen in any identity project, should be seen, as I would argue, as entangled in power relations, which they partly constitute and by which they are regulated. In effect, we would be able to show the hierarchies, which particular systems of dialogue produce. Consequently, this would allow us to assess which dialogue systems may be considered more advantageous from the perspective of particular actors. Such analysis would go beyond identifying whether particular actors are ready to reconsider their positions. It would involve analysis of the terms on which such redefinitions are conceivable, assuming that particular terms and mechanisms of what is considered to constitute “true dialogue” are much more crucial than mere declaration of readiness to begin a dialogue, declare openness, etc.
8
Constructing new identities for Eastern Poland
In the present book, Eastern Poland will serve as the main case study of the mechanisms of center-periphery dependencies and their symbolic effects on regional level. The region of Eastern Poland is interesting for several reasons. First, one can point out that its “Eastness” is itself questionable and highly relative, in particular, because of recent border changes. Despite the relative character of its Eastness there are numerous discourses that prove the strength of orientalist imagery in which it is inscribed. Below, I will analyze in more detail how this region has become a victim of “culturalism”, “psychologism” and “historicism” and how these mechanism are involved in the networks of political and economic interests. As I will demonstrate, Eastern Poland is systematically stigmatized as post-Russian, post-Soviet, mentally oriental and assigned the guilt for its own ‘backwardness”. Here, let me only remind the reader that the region was a victim of several recent geopolitical breakthroughs including those in 1914–21, 1939–45 and 2004–7. All of these revolutionary moments considerably lowered the status of the region and, in particular, its economic standing. In a similar way, Eastern Poland paid a non-proportional price for Poland’s accession to the EU. The region was offered compensation in the form of regional funds, more precisely, in the form of the so called “Operational Program Eastern Poland”. That compensation, however, consisted of subsidies, which may have further deepened the region’s dependence on public aid. At the same time, these transfers were defined as a voluntary “help”. In a similar way, transfers from the German budget to Eastern Germany were defined as “solidarity tax”, just as transfers in Italy from the North to the South were framed as “help”. In this way, images of southern and eastern regions as being “lazy” are being built. This can be seen as illustration of negotiating the terms of trade between regions and, in a wider perspective, negotiating of the definition of “laziness” and “work” and its price (i.e. what constitutes real “work” and how much it is worth). Because of the very unfavorable terms of trade for the region in the post-communist period, and especially after the EU expansion, Eastern Poland became a major exporter of cheap and relatively well educated workforce to Warsaw and to other metropolitan areas in Poland, as well as to Western Europe. This is just one of the examples of how discourses, stigmatizing Eastern Poland, are inscribed in
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a wider web of economic and political interests, in particular those of actors located in core areas of Western Europe. In addition, the region allows observation of nested orientalism and its compensatory aspects.
Historical context of Eastern Poland’s marginalization To understand the present day status of Eastern Poland within the national and European hierarchy of regions, it is important to see it in the context of a pattern that originates in the Middle Ages and seems to be a permanent structure of the Polish space until today. The east-west differentiation is characterized by gradually decreasing levels of economic development from West to East. It can be attributed primarily to the patterns of the process of diffusion of innovations in this part of Europe (Cipolla, 1972). This differentiation is probably most visible in the case of the density and patterns of development of cities (Fedorowicz et al., 1982), not only in terms of their number but also in terms of their character. In Eastern Poland, many towns had a “private” character, that is, they were not governed by burghers but owned by aristocratic land-owners. The same differentiation that refers to decreasing density from west to east, concerns also all kinds of infrastructure including roads, railways, sewage systems all the way up to foreign direct investments in recent years (Doman´ski, 2003). This important feature of the economic geography of Polish lands is an element of the general logic of the European center-periphery hierarchy. One can point to a similar manifestation of this general spatial structure in the modern economic and social differentiation of the early Middle Ages, which can be observed in Italy. The most famous interpretation of the Italian economic and social geography from such a long-range perspective was presented by Robert Putnam (Putnam, 1993). One can notice that the North–South differentiation which Putnam describes as a structure in Italy, inherited from the Middle Ages, is an element of the very same pan-European centre-periphery structure, which is based on decreasing levels of development as a function of the distance from the Western European core. In southern Europe, including the Balkans, the differentiation has North–South logic, while in Central and Eastern Europe, including Poland, it has a very strong East–West logic, which can be found in several dimensions of the Polish space. That European core, known also as the “Blue Banana”, appears to be one of the most persistent and stable structures of the continent’s space in modern history. Several contemporary geographers and economists confirm its persistence within the structures of European space over, at least, the last ten centuries (e.g. Heidenreich, 1998; Taylor and Hoyler, 2000). However, as Heidenreich (1998) argued, historians such as Braudel (1958), Tilly (1998) and political scientists like Rokkan (Rokkan and Urwin, 1983) should be credited first with the identification of that famous axis of European economic development. As they have argued, it dates back at least to Medieval or even Roman times and reflects centuries-old trade routes (the Alpine–Rhine axis) as well as the
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borderland between Roman-Catholic and Protestant Europe. One could probably link the tensions between the two branches of Christianity, concentrated in this core region of the continent, to the core region’s capacity to be a major engine of creativity in the global scale. Additionally, along the same line the Industrial Revolution developed since the 1800. Until today, the Blue Banana stands out in demographic, economic, infrastructural and culturaleducational dimension of European space. It continues to be the largest single, most densely populated and highly urbanized continuous area in Europe. Most studies of European economic structures trace back the Blue Banana and respectively, the East–West differentiation in the Polish space, to approximately the eleventh century. The best known analyst of the heritage of European economic geography is undoubtedly Ferdinand Braudel (1984), who identified a “first European world economy” in the late Middle Ages. He saw it as a collection of “city centered economies” defined as an axis between “two poles”. The first one was the Northern pole around the Hanseatic League of cities, and the second one was the Southern pole around the city states of Northern Italy. Rokkan (Rokkan, 1970, 1980), at the same time, argued that such city-centered European spatial structure lasted through the Early Modern period and had a profound effect upon contemporary policies and economies. In his model, this dominant urban axis defines both the East–West economic division of Europe as well as the second cultural division that distinguishes Northern (Protestant) from Southern (Catholic) zones. Taylor and Hoyler (Taylor and Hoyler, 2000) argued, however, that since the Early Modern period, these two geographical axes have been fundamentally altered and have even swapped natures. In their view, industrialization reinforced the North–South economic division, while, more recently, the Cold War reinforced the East–West cultural division. According to Taylor and Hoyler, one can’t assume non-problematically a continuity in the spatial order of Europe with major cities forming a core “spine”. This view seems, however, to not be very popular among the main analysts of European space. Numerous Polish authors have identified and analyzed the East–West differentiation in the Polish economic and social geography (e.g. Gorzelak and Jałowiecki, 2002; Gorzelak, 1998). Zukowski (2004) emphasizes in this context that the Vistula river is the main dividing line between the more developed Western and Northern provinces (commonly labeled “Poland A”) and the less advanced Central-Eastern and Southern regions (known as “Poland B”). Zukowski argued, moreover, about the importance of events between twelfth and thirteenth centuries when the European population doubled. This resulted in the migration of peoples in search for new arable lands. Western Poland was most affected by this process, since it brought important civilizational innovations with Western European settlers. Zukowski is convinced that before the twelfth-thirteenth century breakpoint, “all historical provinces of the early Kingdom of Poland were on the same footing. Thus, the initial conditions were roughly similar, and could not predict the subsequent divergent evolution. Probably, the only meaningful difference between the North–Western
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and South-Eastern regions was the geographical location, which was more favorable for the former” (Zukowski, 2004: 966). This lead Zukowski to a conclusion that what happened at that time in Poland was the first turning point in its history. One can note here, however, that the debate on the sources of the historical roots of the underdevelopment of Poland, in particular of its Eastern regions, still continues (Sosnowska, 2004; Chirot, 1989). Therefore Zukowski’ view cannot be considered conclusive in this discussion. Another important early transformation that deepened the East–West differentiation was the so called “second serfdom” in Eastern Poland, usually perceived as a result of the sixteenth century rise of Western demand for Poland’s grains. These developments, which arguably resulted in peripheralization of the entire Polish economy in European context, have been exclusively discussed by Immanuel Wallerstein in his seminal World-System Theory (Wallerstein, 1974b). Zukowski (2004) argued in this context that: the insertion of Poland into the international trade flows in 16th century as an exporter of grains to the Netherlands contributed to strengthening the serfdom and the demesne economy mostly in backward eastern and southern regions. In contrast, the advanced Western and Northern area being much less export-dependent, underwent a further demise of feudal economic and social relationships. (Zukowski, 2004: 960) This thesis may be seen as, at least, partly controversial if we take into account the similarly export-dependent character of much of the German Junker estates in present day Western Poland (Schoer, 1976). They were in fact considered as equally backward and reproduced some forms of the “second serfdom”. Polish dominated Greater Poland (Wielkopolska) seems to be even more “advanced” in these terms, as it has been dominated by large estates to a lesser degree. In the case of the Junker estates-dominated parts of Prussia J. Perkins identifies a specific path of development, the roots of which can be traced back to the late Middle Ages. In particular, he mentions: the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, when the region was first colonized by settlers from old Germany to the West of the Elbe and Saale rivers. In the process of colonization, the Slavic inhabitants, who had moved into the region in the wake of Westward Germanic migrations during the late Roman Empire, were largely eliminated or absorbed into a German ethnic identity. (Perkins, 1986: 291) More importantly, beginning in the late Middle Ages, Eastern Germany, in Perkins’ view, experienced the above mentioned “second serfdom” or “second feudalism” that we could see in Poland. In his interpretation it involved:
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the expansion of the area of the manorial lords’ domains at the expense of peasant land and the corollary of the extraction from manorial peasants of an increasing burden of rents in the form of labor services for the enlarged demesnes. In the process, the peasant serfs became bound to the soil not only on account of their occupation of the manorial lands but also because of their personal status as serfs. In effect, the Medieval nature of serfdom, involving reciprocal rights and obligations on the part of lords and of peasants occupying lands in specific manors, became transformed in East-Elbia into a territorial hegemony over the area of the manorial estate. (Perkins, 1986: 292) Karl Schoer concludes his analysis of the late Junker system by defining it as “feudal in its superstructure, but capitalist at the base” (Schoer, 1976: 44). During its development the economic basis did not have to be changed against the interests of the Junkers and the old feudal lords could merge with the new bourgeoisie. The main difference with the lands dominated by Polish ownership was probably that the Polish national bourgeoisie was always very weak and the landowning nobility transformed into intelligentsia rather than into burghers. As Andrzej Wyrobisz (1989) pointed out: contrary to the rapid growth of population in the great urban centers in Western Europe in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the number of inhabitants of Polish towns grew very slowly or did not grow at all, except in Danzig, Warsaw, Cracow, and Lublin, which grew faster because of their economic, political and cultural roles. But only inhabitants of Danzig exceeded forty thousand in the seventeenth century, the population of most Polish towns did not reach one thousand. The density of the urban network in the Polish Commonwealth was very uneven: in Greater Poland (the Western part of the country) it was one town per 207 sq. km., in Little Poland (the southern part of the country) one town per 245 sq. km., in Masovia (the center of the country) one town per 313 sq. km., in the Great Duchy of Lithuania one town per 322 sq. km., in Volhynia (the eastern part of the country) one town per 608 sq. km., in Royal Prussia one town per 546 sq. km. but in the same time there were the three biggest and wealthiest Polish towns (Danzig, Elbing, and Thorn) so the region must be estimated as intensively urbanized. (Wyrobisz, 1989: 612) Wyrobisz emphasizes the special role of the city of Gdan´sk/Danzig on the pre-partition map of Poland since it was the only port of the country, and, therefore, a key window to the world for the export of corn and wood, which were the main articles produced by the Polish nobility. One could note that the city remains until today the most important metropolis in Northern Poland, although in the nineteenth century it has lost most of its links to
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former Polish territories. At the same time, the presence of Polish culture in the city has been marginalized. Even in the pre-partition period, however, the relationship of the city with Poland has been restricted to the economic domain, despite the fact that it was given many charters by Polish kings since the beginning of the fifteenth century. Thus, Gdan´sk was not involved in exerting pressure on the nobility to concede some of their political right to the burghers, as Wyrobisz narrates. In effect, the nobility was practically the only group who enjoyed full political and civil rights until the end of the existence of the First Rzeczpospolita. Their number among the total population of the country was considerable; most probably the highest in comparison to that of any other country in Europe during that period (Davies, 1981). The partition of Poland started in 1772 with the first wave of annexations of Polish territory by Austria, Prussia and Russia. The second wave took place in 1793 (Austria did not participate this time), and the final one came in 1795, when the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth finally ceased to exist. However, only at the Vienna Congress in 1815, stable border between the three empires have been established. They lasted in an almost unchanged form during the following 100 years until 1914, when the First World War suddenly erupted and Polish territories became the theatre of the Prussian– Russian and Austrian–Russian confrontation. Thus, during the nineteenth century, Polish territories were peripheral areas in relation to the states of all of the occupying powers. This peripheral status was probably the least extreme in the case of Russia, since Polish lands occupied by the Romanovs’ Empire became Russia’s Western borderland, they were closest to the European core and constituted an important transit zone. As Jacek Kochanowicz even argued, “for a time being – in the last quarter of the nineteenth century – the Polish Kingdom was one of the most industrially developed regions of the Russian Empire” (Kochanowicz, 2006). At the same time, however, it would be difficult to say that Russia treated them in a privileged way. Rather, the opposite was true: it punished Polish territories several times with harsh measures, especially after failed uprisings. Russian war doctrine treated them also as a “buffer zone” in case of war with Prussia. In effect, the development of transport infrastructure in the Congress Kingdom has been severely restricted. Polish lands, occupied by Austria, which formed the province of Galicia (named by Austrians after the ancient Ruthenian Dutchy of Halych), became the poorest region of the entire Austro–Hungarian Empire. Greater Poland also appeared to be one of Prussia’s most peripheral regions. From such point of view, all these countries could be seen as equally restraining the economic development of the Polish space. However, it is also true that the occupying states were on quite different levels of economic development. From this perspective, the influence of the Prussian economic and administrative system is usually considered as more positive than that of the Russian one. On the other side of the border, Russian Poland, as it was already mentioned, was the most Western province of the Romanovs’ Empire. This fact appeared to be an advantage for the development of the industrial
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centers in the region. Łódz´ is the best example of such a large industrial city. It became an important center of the textile industry in Europe, famous for its industrial boom in the second half of the nineteenth century, and remained as such even in present-day Poland. Łódz´ developed mainly because of its location near the Prussian border. This allowed investors from Prussia to build factories close to their native country and, at the same time, to have access to the enormous Russian market. In other words, the sudden emergence of the industrial grow pole in Łódz´ was possible only because of the division of Poland and the tariff policies of the Russian Empire. Most authors agree that the Russian sector experienced the most pronounced impact of the industrialization process during the nineteenth century. One has to note, however, that it was restricted to a small number of centers (primarily Warsaw, Łódz´ and Da˛browskie Basin) and depended heavily on foreign capital. In general, the contrasts between urban and rural areas are much higher in the former Russian region than in any other part of Poland. This seems to be related to a more general pattern of contrast between Germany, with a low urban-rural tension, and Russia, with a high polarization between large metropolises and rural areas. The development of industry in the Russian zone started in the late eighteenth century under the so called relatively autonomous Kingdom of Poland. The Kingdom lasted until 1830, that is, until the first anti-Russian uprising. At that time, a considerable development of the so called Old-Polish Industrial Basin (Zagłe¸bie Staropolskie) located north of the city of Kielce (based on mines of iron, copper, lead) took place. It is usually considered as one of the first, if not the first, modern, highly statist modernization program in Poland. It was initiated and coordinated by the minister of treasury, Prince DruckiLubecki, who stimulated institutional reforms by establishing a national bank and a land credit. Drucki-Lubecki initiated industrialization by promoting the development of heavy (metallurgical) industry and of textile industry. Kochanowicz argues that “the results of the first venture were somewhat doubtful—technologically backward plants, subsidized by the state, were loss makers, while the profits were made mostly by the entrepreneurs who managed to get state contracts” (Kochanowicz, 2006: 15). What survived form that early industrial centre until today is a number of factories and cities, mostly those of Ostrowiec S´wie¸tkorzyski and Starachowice. Zagłe¸bie Da˛browskie Industrial Basin near Upper Silesian took a lead over Zagłe¸bie Staropolskie in the second half of the nineteenth century. The Russian part of Poland saw its main land reform implemented in 1864. At that time, peasants were given property rights to their plots. As Kochanowicz noted: the enfranchisement was relatively favorable for peasantry, if compared either with the Prussian and Austrian reforms of the first half of the nineteenth century, or the Russian reform of 1861. Not surprisingly – the motives were predominantly political. The reform was an answer to a manifest of the insurrectionist National Government (January 1863)
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Contemporary historical memory of Poles usually ascribes to former Russian territories the worst stereotypes among the three sectors of divided Polish lands during the nineteenth century. Russians left a legacy of corrupt administration, authoritarianism and civilizational backwardness, often perceived as factors that hamper the region’s development. The Russian Empire left neither democratic traditions nor impressive technical infrastructure. It did, however, stimulate the emergence of left-liberal educated intelligentsia—a class or stratum with an ambiguous role, which has ambitions to preserve some of the values of nobility and a clear anti-system political orientation. Kongresówka, as the Russian sector is often called after the Congress Kingdom established in 1815 in Vienna, gave Poland its most famous nineteenth century poets, writers and the majority of its national heroes during this period, but it also had the lowest level of education and the least developed national identity among its large peasant population. As it has been already mentioned, important impediments for the development of Polish space under Russian rule were geostrategic military restrictions such as restrictions on the development of transport infrastructure in the wide border zone as well as laws stipulating construction of railway stations far from city centers, large fortresses, and fortifications systems. Such a system considerably restricted the spatial growth of Warsaw in the late nineteenth century, which nevertheless was able to become the third largest city of the Russian Empire after Moscow and Petersburg by the end of nineteenth century. The punitive measures, introduced after the Polish “November” uprising of 1830, included closure of Russia’s markets for the Congress Kingdom by introduction of high trade tariffs. Following the “January” uprising of 1863, penalties included revoking of the status of cities for a large number of Polish towns, some of which did not regain their city status until today. As mentioned above, development in the former Russian zone was confined to enclaves, but this was, and still seems to be, a typical trait of the Russian economic space and of the Russian model of industrialization, or even more generally, of the Russian model of modernization. As economic historians point out, one of the key factors of industrialization of the Congress Kingdom was the availability of huge markets in economically underdeveloped Russia. Kochanowicz argues that the process of industrialization of the Congress Kingdom was “spontaneous in a sense that it was not triggered by any conscious state policy, as was the case with the Kingdom half-a-century earlier, with Russia under de Witte, or with Japan after the
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Meiji restoration” (Kochanowicz, 2006: 17). On the other hand, more state involvement was present in the construction of a railway connection in the Russian controlled part of Poland. The Vienna–Warsaw–St Petersburg railway as well as other railways, which gradually developed in the second part of the nineteenth century, made Warsaw the largest transport junction in the region, further reinforcing its economic position. As I would argue, despite the obviously negative effects of the Russian occupation of Polish lands, the memory of this period in Poland is highly one-sided. Among many forgotten aspects in the history of Russian Poland are the successful careers of many Poles in the state administration (in particular, in mainland Russia, in the non-Polish sectors of the Empire) as well as the emergence of numerous fortunes based on successful economic ventures. These positive aspects, however, do not fit the dominating negative perception of Russia as a part of the modern Polish national identity (Zarycki, 2004). Among the most interesting negative perceptions are those which try to explain Russian Poland’s “character” or “personality” by relying on stereotypical interpretations regarding the role of the nineteenth century partitions of Poland by Austria, Prussia and Russia. As mentioned earlier, most of these interpretations draw the former Russian sector of Poland and its heritage in an unambiguously black color, while the Austrian and Prussian heritage are usually represented in bright colors as a solid foundation for Poland’s current development. This happens despite the existence of contradictory evidence. Thus, as has been argued by Janusz Hryniewicz (Hryniewicz, 2001), the Prussian occupation of the region of Wielkopolska (Greater Poland), which became the most marginal part of Prussia in the nineteenth century, probably delayed the economic development of that region as compared to its hypothetical economic trajectory had it remained a part of Poland. One can also note that Wielkopolska was the only sector of occupied Poland where no institutions of higher education were established, while, at the same time, it became a subject to a brutal policy of Germanization. This took place within the framework of the so-called Kulturkampf campaign. Poland’s inheritance, from under Prussian rule, of a relatively well developed infrastructure, including communication and urban installations, may not obscure the fact that, with the exception of Upper Silesia, lost by Poland much earlier, the Prussian sector received no significant investment for industry development and remained, largely, an agricultural part of Prussia. As mentioned above, current dominant images of the Russian sector are devoid of any mention of elements of historical heritage which could have had a positive connotation. In particular, it is rarely mentioned that at the turn of the twentieth century, the region was the most rapidly growing part of Polish territories and one of the main economic hubs of the Russian Empire; a country which was experiencing an unprecedented economic boom during that period (Kochanowicz, 2006). At the same time, it is worth mentioning that the urban centers of the Russian partition were not only leading among Polish towns in terms of economic growth but also in terms of social, cultural and intellectual
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dynamism. These elements of the social and economic landscape of the Polish lands under occupation, particularly in its last period from 1905 to 1914 when the Russian sector was a clear leader in terms of economic and social development, are now completely overshadowed by the memory of negative elements related to the oppressive Russian policies. These policies included political repression against Poles who participated in resistance efforts. This included confiscations of property or exile, restrictions on the development of Polish culture and education, high levels of corruption, relatively delayed democratization of the political system and polarized economic development, accompanied by very limited infrastructure development outside of major metropolitan centers. Thus, the former Russian zone is currently depicted as a realm of autocracy, a region of extreme economic and cultural backwardness, and a land, completely cut off from the mainstream of Western civilization. What is, in particular, often omitted by most Polish discourses is the fact that in the first years of the twentieth century, up to the Bolshevik revolution, Russia had been fully integrated into the mainstream economic and social development in Europe. The same could be said of its cultural life. While retaining its specificity, pre-communist Russia was strongly linked to the main centers of European civilization. One can suspect that the current negative stereotypes of historic Russia, and the black images of the former Russian partition, are largely based on the country’s current position in the international arena, as it remains a country which despite the accumulation of substantial financial resources from the sale of mineral resources can hardly compete on equal footing with leaders of the Western Europe. These factors determine the low symbolic status of Russia in the international arena, and seem to be the key, probably subconscious, factors that determine the perception of Russia’s legacy in Poland. The equally ambiguous legacies of Prussian and Austrian occupations of Polish lands seem to be highly valued and their stereotypical images have become purified of negative elements. This effect seems to also be associated with the current economic and symbolic status of the two countries in question. In particular Germany, which in contrast to Russia enjoys a relatively high international prestige, is recognized as a global leader of economic and social development. This translates into a reappraisal of the legacy of Prussian Poland and strengthens the above mentioned mechanisms of orientalization of Eastern Polish regions, especially those which remained under Russian rule during the nineteenth century.1 Such a one-sided, orientalizing perception of Eastern Poland not only results in silencing of the positive elements of the historical heritage of the partition period, but also leads to overlooking its contemporary strengths, especially in the socio-cultural sphere. A spectacular example of this trend is the marginalization of the fact that most parts of Eastern Poland clearly and systematically achieve higher than average scores on standardized high school tests (S´leszyn´ski, 2003). Higher levels of educational attainment in this part of the country do not fit the above described orientalist image of a “mentally” and culturally backward region. This is probably one of the reasons why no
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clear academic explanation of this phenomenon has been offered yet. One can mention that among the hypotheses proposed so far is that of a possible connection to a supposedly greater tolerance for cribbing and other forms of academic dishonesty. The hypothesis itself seems to be orientalist in nature, and relates to the above mentioned perception of Russian heritage in Poland. Nevertheless, empirical testing demonstrates this to be false (Herbst, 2009). Equally ambiguous is the legacy of the period of the so-called Second Polish Republic. As Jacek Kochanowicz noted: Poland gained its independence in 1918, but the interwar period was not particularly good for industrialization. All over the world, and particularly in Europe, it was an epoch of dirigisme, authoritarian regimes and economic nationalism. The industrial output of the Polish lands declined dramatically due to the war, and managed to regain its 1913 levels only on the eve of the Second World War. Among many reasons for this decline, was the loss of the Russian markets, due to which the Kingdom developed so quickly during the last thirty years of the nineteenth century. (Kochanowicz, 2006: 19) On the other hand, the young Polish state had several tangible achievements. For example, as Antoni Kuklin´ski observed: the most important imperative of the Polish Space at the time of the Second Republic was a heroic attempt to reintegrate the 3 parts of the Polish territory which represented different levels of development and different political and economic experiences in the formative period of the European transformation of the XIX century. (Kuklin´ski, 2008) The Second Rzeczpospolita inherited from Germany, Russia and Austro– Hungary three distinct civil codes and three different systems of public administration. One could also add that the three parts of Poland differed from each other in terms of language standards and alphabets which were used in their respective administrative systems (in the Russian zone the Cyrillic alphabet was used along with the Latin script). The three parts of the country were integrated effectively in an impressively short period of time. The Second Republic was, however, a very diversified country with tectonic faults in all aspects of its space, including the levels of its economic development (backward and under-populated Eastern borderlands), its cultural and national composition as well as its weak political system. In particular, the Silesian voivodship was granted a considerable autonomy in an attempt to win as many votes as possible for Poland during the period of referenda and the Silesian Uprising, when, at the end of the First World War, the political fate of the region was to be determined. For the same reasons (gaining the support of the region’s inhabitants for its reintegration to Poland), the custom
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control between Germany and Silesian voivodship was reduced on the basis of a Polish–German agreement. Another aspect of the weakness of the Second Republic was the process of redistribution of large estates land among petty peasants, which increased further the fragmentation of ownership in Eastern and Southern Poland. The main achievement of the period was probably the project of Central Industrial Region (COP), which was predominately a state-planned and statefinanced military undertaking. The new industrial region was devised in a place considered to be safe from military point of view: between the rivers of Vistula and San; a region which today belongs to eastern Poland following the post-war change of Poland’s borders. Such a location in southern Poland was more or less equidistant from both the German and the Soviet borders at that period, and was supposed to guarantee relative security to the factories. It’s worth noting that in the framework of the COP, large scale production of military and, later, of civil airplanes has been developed in Poland. Although few airplanes have been produced before the outbreak of the war, many of the factories have been completed after the war and the region remains until today the main location of the Polish aircraft industry; one of the most technologically advanced industrial areas in the country, known also as Aviation Valley (Dolina Lotnicza) located between Mielec and Rzeszów in south-eastern Poland. Among other centrally planned projects from that period, one should mention the new port and city of Gdynia (built because of German control over the formally “Free City” of Gdan´sk/Danzig) and the North–South coal railway line that links the coal mines and factories in Silesia with Baltic ports. Piotr Korys´ (2008) points out that the modernization efforts of the period of the second republic had a strongly state-driven character mainly due to the weakness of the Polish private capital. However, as Bohdan Jałowiecki (2008) argues, the achievements of the Second Republic during its short-term existence of less than 20 years have been more impressive than those of the post-Communist Third Republic during its first two decades. A very important aspect of the Communist restructuring of Polish space was the industrialization policy. Following guidelines from the Soviet Union, Poland’s communist party, known as the Polish United Workers Party (PZPR), undertook an effort at rapid and heavy industrialization of the entire country. The industrialization was particularly intensively implemented in the first decade of existence of the Polish Peoples Republic (1945–55). Some of the large investment projects had a very obvious ideological motivation, as for example the famous Lenin steel mill in Kraków (now the Se¸dzimir Steel Mill), which was supposed to infuse a fresh stream of working-class population into the conservative city of Krakow. On the other hand, most of the investments of the Communist period followed the old patterns of industrialization in Poland, which resulted in maintaining the earlier status of Eastern Poland. First of all, these investments took advantage of the existing infrastructure, and second, most of them were heavily dependent on mineral resources. In effect, the concentration of heavy and, in particular, military-oriented
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industry continued in Upper Silesia and in the Central Industrial Region (COP). Most of the new industrial locations were dependent on mineral resources. According to Grzegorz Gorzelak (1996), the communist period had not altered the major structures of Poland’s economic geography. In his view, the transformation that took place after 1989 had also basically followed patterns of deindustrialization that began in Europe 20 or 30 years earlier. Gorzelak also argued that the structures of the Polish space are not going to change dramatically as a result of the next stages of systemic transformation. Indeed, despite the deep scale of economic reforms and the restructuring which took place in the post-Communist period, no serious evolution in the structures of the Polish space took place. Although much of the heavy industry and the other backward sectors of Polish economy went bankrupt and some of them were even liquidated, this didn’t influence the overall spatial differentiation of economic activities in the country. This inertia on Poland’s economic map is due, first of all, to the fact that the larger part of the industry was always concentrated in urban areas. The main urban centers of the country were the places, where most of the economic development, rise in employment, investments and other indicators took place. In effect, most of the decline in these areas has been compensated by concentration of growth. The high and rising demand for skilled workforce reduced the level of unemployment in most cities. The unemployment has, however, skyrocketed in areas dominated by the former State Farms (PGRs), which lost subsidies just after the fall of Communism and, as a result, most of them went bankrupt. In this way, large areas, especially those in Western Pomerania and in former Eastern Prussia which were once dominated by former Junker farms, became the most depressed parts of the Polish space. The accession of Poland to the EU appeared, however, to have a more positive impact on Western regions of the country. This could be related primarily to the proximity of Germany and Western Europe, since Germany became the main investor and also, the key market for Polish producers. A major part of the Polish economy, along with the economies of Central Europe, was incorporated into the structures of the global economy which considerably privileged Poland’s Western region. At the same time, the dependent nature of the economic transformation restricted the accumulation of capital in this region. This effect was particularly clear in the eastern part of zone one. This is how József Böröcz summarized these processes in the case of Hungary: Since low labor costs are a key dimension on which governments compete for foreign direct investment, and because the highly mechanized, high productivity character of this production generates relatively small demand for labor, the developmental effects through wages are minimal. Subcontracting arrangements put local businesses in an economically, legally and technologically subordinate position vis-à-vis foreign multinational capital. Multinationals can, and do, shop for subcontractors globally, whereas local subcontractors have serious spatial and temporal constraints.
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Constructing new identities The developmental effects of such subcontracting arrangements are also relatively small. Given that the national industry inherited from the state socialist period was dismantled through the privatization process only to be recast as a predominantly foreign-owned and assembly plant type of industry, and given that there was an endemic unavailability of indigenous capital for domestic industry, the highest value added operations in industrial production in the Hungarian economy became controlled by foreign capital. (Böröcz, 2012: 25)
The nature of the processes described by Böröcz was very similar in Poland and in other countries of the region. The regional effects of these processes were very clear since investments of foreign capital followed patterns of earlier concentration of industry and focused on Western regions where proximity to Western European markets was a key economic factor. Let me turn here to the typology of peripheries proposed by Stein Rokkan (Rokkan, 1980). It includes the following four categories: interface peripheries, enclaves, failed centers and external peripheries. The two key categories in that typology are interface peripheries and external peripheries. The main difference between the two lies in the number of dominating centers. Interface peripheries, being regions of overlapping dependence on two or more centers, may use the conflicting interests of the centers to their own advantage. As Rokkan and Urwin noted, “external peripheries have much less leeway in bargaining for trading advantages and subsidies than interface peripheries” (Rokkan and Urwin, 1983: 64). In effect, most of the European interface peripheries are more or less successful regions and countries. In Rokkan’s typology they include such areas as Benelux, Switzerland and other regions of the French– German–Italian borderland. On the other hand, external peripheries are, to a large extent, dependent and backward areas which are at the mercy of their single dominant centers. It is worth noting that due to the strong external cultural influences of opposite forces, some of the interface peripheral regions have not been included in any form of the logic of nation states, nor have they set up their national culture as Belgium and Switzerland have. These two countries have remained countries of multicultural, multilingual and interdenominational character. As Rokkan points out, a significant part of the European borderland, discussed here, has remained an interface area between Catholicism and Protestantism. In some countries, e.g. in the Netherlands, the influences of both religions have overlapped, which, according to this author, has resulted in stimulating interactions, but sometimes also in destructive conflicts. Above all, however, these regions of interface peripheries have usually managed to make good use of their location in respect to their economic development. By taking advantage of the competition for influence of dominant European states over their area, they often have achieved the highest wealth and economic value per capita. Such opportunities have never occurred at the external peripheries of Western Europe, such as Ireland, Portugal or Greece.
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Their ability to negotiate with dominant centers has always been very limited due to the lack of an alternative political context, which has condemned them to being bound to a single center. Perhaps among the examples listed here, Greece was at one time an exception, since, for some time, it remained in the orbit of interest of the Soviet Union. Due to this factor and to its good economic conditions, Greece obtained a relatively early invitation to the emerging European Economic Community (the predecessor of today’s European Union) as well as to other Western organizations. Currently, it appears to be gradually marginalized, both in economic as well as in symbolic terms, which can be also explained by the transformation of its geopolitical status from an interface to an external periphery. Antoni Kuklin´ski proposed an interesting comparison between three peripheral regions in Europe: Southern Italy, East Germany and Poland (Kuklin´ski, 2010b). Despite their geographical distance, all the regions appeared to manifest several common characteristics, including the ways they were represented in mainstream academic discourses in their respective countries. Sara González made a comparison between the North–South axis in England and Italy (González, 2011). She pointed to these countries’ relationship to the pan-European structure of center-periphery system and she noted the fact that that broader context of continental dependencies and inequalities is rarely mentioned in national debates on regional disparities. González argued in particular that: invoking the North/South divide speaks of historically entrenched injustices and path dependencies. It acts as a ‘discursive device’ to uncover problems in the capitalist system of a deeper kind than those identified at the more micro and individual scales. It speaks of issues of regional dependency, exploitation or even colonization. A language of archipelagos, districts and networks, if not contextualized in longer historical trends and wider socioeconomic processes, can lead to victimization of those poorer communities, who are made responsible for their own problems and ‘empowered’ to resolve them. (González, 2011: 72) The geopolitical conditioning of backwardness is as evident in the case of Eastern Germany as in the case of Eastern Poland. The latter region seems to be a victim of recent geopolitical transformations not only in terms of restriction of its natural growth potential, but also in terms of restriction of its cognitive abilities to identify the sources of its failures and of its opportunities for growth. Let me remind the reader here that until the Polish accession to the European Union and, in particular, to the Schengen agreement, cities in Eastern Poland attracted considerable numbers of visitors from Belarus, Russia and Ukraine, as well as smaller numbers of visitors from more distant countries of the former Soviet Union such as Kazakhstan or the Tran-Caucasian states. Most of them were involved in trade on different levels and in different degrees of formalization. This flow of visitors generated an important source of revenues
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for the region and allowed it to capitalize on its borderland location. Not only trade flourished in the region but also smaller scale manufacturing, in particular, the furniture industry, which is now in recession. Most of the businesses were family-run, relatively small enterprises. They focused on trade (warehouses, small stores, stalls at the market place) and services in response to the needs of cross-border exchange (hotels, bars and small stores). Informal border trade, which took advantage of the general difference in prices of consumer goods between the bordering countries, provided employment and income for a great part of the inhabitants of the eastern borderland in the transition period. At the same time, several Poles from Eastern Poland got involved in various activities on the other side of the border. Some of them attempted expanding their businesses in the space of the post-Soviet republics. They used as outposts the cities on the other side of the border like Grodno or Lviv, where Polish minorities became useful partners and provided cheap workforce, fluent in both Polish and Russian. Most of these ventures were abandoned after Poland’s accession to the European Union. Closure of the border resulted in suspension of most of the railway and bus connections between the cities on the two sides of the border. This resulted in a serious crisis of local economies. Its visible manifestations became the street protests against the closure Poland’s Eastern border. Interestingly, these local protests were never given much attention in the Polish national mass-media, probably because their message was contradictory to the media’s dominating master narrative of Poland’s accession as being one of the most miraculous and fortunate events in the history of the country. Even in the region itself, discourses, expressing discontent with isolation as a result of EU policies, can be called “hidden” since they mostly appear in the private and semi-private sphere. The public discourse, in particular, the discourse of the authorities, is one that extols the successes and great benefits the region has gained from the European Union and its generous funds. In most of the cities of Eastern Poland the discourse of the local authorities is focused on grandiose visions that encompass the construction of high-tech and science parks, the attraction of global high-tech corporations and the construction of international airports and other developments that aim to transform eastern regions into new small versions of Silicon Valley. This discourse contrasts clearly with the situation of local economies, and more precisely with the fall of the trade with former Soviet republics, which are largely marginalized in regional strategic planning. Instead, the strategic thinking of these regions became focused on excelling in competences that relate to applying for funds, controlled by the European Union. In addition, eastern regions lost most of their cognitive abilities to identify any non-EU related and EU-defined prospects for growth. Interestingly, these consequences of the closure of the eastern border of Poland have been quite well predicted by community leaders as early as 2002. An extensive study of their opinions, prepared by Joanna Kurczewska and Hanna Bojar (Kurczewska and Bojar, 2002), showed, that community leaders considered the results of Poland’s accession to the European Union as
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discriminatory towards the inhabitants of the eastern region. Conversely, the inhabitants of the western borderland (mainly on the Polish–German border) as well as the inhabitants of central Poland were not as dependent on the openness of the border as those, located in eastern Poland. Kurczewska and Bojar reported that community leaders of Eastern Poland realized well that: after the EU enlarges, the number of people who make a living on the border trade will decrease significantly. As a result, securing the border will lead to an even greater increase in the ranks of the unemployed. In the long run, it will lead to impoverishment of a major part of the local population on the eastern border as the growth of unemployment rate may result in an increase in welfare demands towards the municipality. Municipalities’ welfare responsibilities will expand, which will have an adverse effect on local investment and may consequently put a stop to municipalities’ economic advancement. (Kurczewska and Bojar, 2002: 6) Interestingly, however, Kurczewska’s and Bojar’s respondents in Eastern Poland were not afraid of an increase in immigration. As the authors point out, this absence of a feeling of anxiety in connection to the inflow of immigrants may be seen as paradoxical as “it means that inhabitants of the region did not need protection against illegal immigration which was one of the fundamental official goals of securing the eastern border” (Kurczewska and Bojar, 2002: 8). The concern of the community leaders, according to the above mentioned study, was related to the economic weakness of eastern foreign partners. According to Kurczewska and Bojar: this was exemplified by a lack of resources to co-finance trans-border undertakings and deficiencies of the economic infrastructure on the ‘other’ side of the border. Polish economic undertakings across the eastern border were not secure (they lack state guarantees, both Russian and Ukrainian ones, if contractors withhold payment or if payments are significantly delayed). This was paralleled by progressing saturation of the market with goods and services from the EU countries, which provide guarantees for their own entrepreneurs who are active in the borderland. (Kurczewska and Bojar, 2002: 7) It is worth noting that in the national Polish media there has been little mention of the protests against the closure of the eastern border that took place in the cities of the region. Scenes of the demonstrations, the most famous of which was the protest in Białystok of merchants and people, dependent on trade with eastern markets, were neither shown on television news nor discussed in the central press. At the same time, media nationwide were full of enthusiasm over the numerous benefits, partly purely symbolic, that Poland gained by its entry into the European Union and, later, by joining the Schengen
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Agreement. Such discrepancy between nation-wide and regional discourses may be also seen as a manifestation of a more general phenomenon, identified by Ayse Artun. In her interviews with Podlasie elites, their deep conviction became clear. Namely, they held a belief that their concerns were exclusive to the Eastern Wall regions, due to the implications of travel restrictions, imposed on Poland’s eastern neighbors, for trade and social ties. As Artun demonstrated, regional elites had little chance to impact the policies concerning the border regime, since in Poland concerns of the regions still have a very limited relevance for and influence on foreign policy makers (Artun, 2005).
Orientalism and images of Eastern Poland As we can see from the above discussion, Eastern Poland undoubtedly faces many objective problems. In economic terms, it is certainly a less developed part of the country; most of the indicators of economic development in the region are below the national average. The same is true with regards to both social and technical infrastructure development. All of these problems are clearly objective in nature. A much more ambiguous issue revolves around the origins of these regional inequalities and extends to the broader question of how development plans for the region are interpreted and understood. What seems particularly controversial is the diagnosis of the problems of Eastern Poland as a “natural” function of the link between economic issues and subjective interpretations of contemporary social and political behavior patterns, as well as of reference to visions of the region’s past. In this regard, Eastern Poland is usually assigned negative stereotypes pertaining to allegedly innate and clearly detrimental cultural-psychological traits. These often questionable interpretations, which refer to such notions as specific “mentality”, “culture” or “attitude”, allegedly prevailing in the region, are linked to selected indexes of economic growth that are clearly negative. This is done in order to suggest a causal relationship between the latter and the former. In this way, images of a “backward” region, not only in the sense of material prosperity, but also in the sense of mental and cultural achievement, are produced. As it seems, many of these perspectives do not have a sufficient empirical or even moral justification and can thus be considered as instances of symbolic violence exerted on that part of Poland by dominant cultural and economic centers of power. It is worthwhile to look closer at the mechanisms that produce this kind of discourse. Revealing their roots, methods of reproduction and modes of use may be instrumental in understanding the broader question of the production of culturally inferior perspectives of regions in general. Good examples of how the above mentioned orientalist tropes work in contemporary discourse in Poland can be found in the expert opinions and other government documents concerning the region of Eastern Poland. A vivid illustration can be provided by an analysis authored by Grzegorz Gorzelak for
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the Polish Ministry of Regional Development. Gorzelak writes about Eastern Poland in the following way: backwardness of this region is durable and therefore very difficult to overcome in the short term. This is because it is an example of what is called after Braudel (Braudel, 1999) – an instance of ‘long duration’, both in terms of material as well as social and institutional structures. (Gorzelak, 2009) Pointing out the historical roots of the low levels of economic development in this part of the country is, of course, a statement of a universally recognized fact. More controversial is, however, that Gorzelak links the “backwardness” question to the cultural dimension. In the following paragraphs of the same text, one can see even more clearly a tendency to arbitrarily, as it seems, link the economic problems of the region to the cultural traditions and political attitudes, assigned to its inhabitants. The author suggests in particular that: low values of economic development indicators are accompanied by adverse social characteristics. Conservative attitudes dominate in the region (see the results of the referendum on EU accession and the results of the last parliamentary and presidential elections), capacities for self-organization are low, although recent experiences with the use of pre-accession funds point to an improvement in this respect (especially in the provinces of Podkarpackie and S´wie¸tokrzyskie). The level of knowledge of development mechanisms is low. Traditional values prevail, the level of tolerance for attitudes and behaviors different from those locally accepted is low (while as Florida argues, tolerance is one of the most important factors of social development). (Gorzelak, 2009) Thus, low levels of economic development in Eastern Poland, in Gorzelak’s view, appear to be quite clearly related not only to processes of long duration or to the region’s economic and geopolitical location on the map of Europe, but also to the supposedly ingrained attitudes of its inhabitants. These attitudes are interpreted on the basis of electoral behavior and are assessed as “conservative” and “traditional”. In other words, they are seen as being far from the cultural patterns described by modern social sciences, in particular, from the lifestyle patterns of middle and upper class inhabitants of the modern global metropolis. In another interesting article, published in a volume on the modernization of Poland and edited by Witold Morawski (Morawski, 2010), Grzegorz Gorzelak and Bohdan Jałowiecki present an even more extensive and clear example of a similar view of Eastern Poland. As they write: Previous studies have shown that Polish regional elites, at least in the Western provinces, have internalized to a considerable extent the post-modern
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Constructing new identities paradigm of development. They are characterized by more rational attitudes, which are open and susceptible to change. In Eastern Poland, views characteristic of the former communist-period elites are still present – [people are] conservative and closed to new development trends and the outside world. Poland’s Eastern regions are characterized by a relative economic backwardness and low growth dynamics. No wonder that in such a socio-economic context old well-established attitudes and patterns of behavior prevail. The communist period’s outlook considered industry and agriculture as the main factors of growth, while the officially preached egalitarianism was used to strengthen claimant attitudes. Family and friends were an important element of social structure, and the criterion of informal connections was a major factor in supporting career development. Such a world view, as has been illustrated by previous research, has survived not only within a considerable part of Polish society, but also among its elites, particularly in Eastern Poland. Therefore, these are not only the indicators of economic development and political attitudes, which were expressed during the subsequent elections and referendums, but also the outlooks of the elite, which prove that Poland, even in this respect, is quite clearly divided into two parts. (Gorzelak and Jałowiecki, 2010: 521)
Similar elements can be found in some of the theses presented by Antoni Kuklinski in his research proposal on Eastern Poland. He mentions, for example, the “different mindsets of the societies of Eastern Poland”. What’s more, he defines “underdevelopment as a mindset of the social psychology of the regional and local communities documented by passive and non-innovative approaches” (Kuklin´ski, 2010a). Such a way of perceiving the sphere of economic development as conditioned by the particular cultural and psychological characteristics of a region’s inhabitants (defined as “mental” traits incompatible with the ideals of modernity) seems to be a hypothesis that is difficult to prove. In such a context, one can question the justification for constructing visions of development in Eastern Poland that are heavily reliant on paradigms of innovation and “knowledgebased economies”. Orientalist visions of regions considered to be “eastern” are often used in expert analysis to suggest the need for cultural reconstruction in the direction of forms, ideals and behavior patterns derived from the West, which are seen as more advanced and modern. The afore-mentioned analysis provides a good example of such trends, and seems to raise some doubts with respect to the cultural sphere. This is specifically why discourses on “information societies” or “knowledge economies” in that sphere may appear to have the highest ideological charge. As Bob Jessop (Jessop, 2005) and Norman Fairclough (Fairclough, 2006) have argued, such influential discourses are based on the premise of an “information society” as an existing universal reality. The idea is that the spectacular development of the most advanced global economic centers is based on conscious acceptance of the ideals and slogans, heralded
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by the discourse under discussion. This discourse appears, however, as shown by Bob Jessop’s studies, to include highly ideological ex-post interpretations, produced rather arbitrarily by the institutions of the core countries which are involved in the process of symbolic legitimization of their economic and political position. In other words, these interpretations don’t have to be considered as true or false, but seem to be at least one-sided and often, though not necessarily consciously, self-interested. They usually don’t take into account the cultural context of the regions to which they refer. In effect, they may appear deceptively as ready-made recipes for achieving economic success through a cultural reform. Moreover, by relying on references to the realities of the most developed countries, they don’t provide language that is adequate for defining development targets and ways of achieving them in regions with lower levels of development. This problem was well demonstrated by one of the main authorities in the field of critical discourse analysis, Norman Fairclough, (Fairclough, 2006) in his analysis of strategic documents of the Romanian government. Fairclough convincingly showed how the Romanian government, in its official documents on development strategy, repeated slogans and other formulations, directly copied from documents of the European Union. The latter, in turn, including the so-called Lisbon Declaration, as Fairclough argued, appeared largely under pressures of globalization exerted by the strongest economic actors in the world. In Fairclough’s view, un-reflexive transfer of these controversial assumptions to the context of the Romanian periphery may be considered a result of the symbolic violence, exerted by the main actors of globalization, and may lead the Romanian government to the adoption of goals and government policies of questionable appropriateness to local socio-economic problems. Fairclough’s analysis of these strategic documents of the Romanian government is worthy of deeper scrutiny in the context of analyzing development programs for Eastern Poland. Interestingly, the current orientalization of Eastern Poland was not a process which started with the fall of communism or with the moment of reinforcement of Poland’s eastern border after EU accession. A very interesting insight to the legacy of earlier symbolic depreciation of the region was provided by Radosław Malikowski and Marek Paluch who studied the coverage of the Rzeszów region in the mainstream media over the period between 1960 and 2000 (Malikowski and Paluch, 2008). Intriguingly, the pattern they identified was that the major breaking point in the image of the region took place around 1980. At that moment, which was also the time of the advent of the anti-communist Solidarity movement in Poland, the image of the region dramatically changed. What was a vision of progressive and dynamically developing part of Poland, after 1981 was replaced by a vision of a backward periphery. This transformation can be linked to the emergence of radical anticommunist tendencies in the region during the period. Although this part of Poland, which belonged to former Galicia, was always characterized by high levels of religiosity, in the mid-communist period it demonstrated a specific amalgam of religious conservatism and loyalty to the communist system. The
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region was awarded relatively generous investments by the communist government. The latter valued the pre-war industrial infrastructure of the region which played a prominent role in the overall Polish military sector. This produced some forms of symbiosis between communist elites and Catholic clergy at the level of the regional field of power. This cohabitation ended, however, abruptly and a large part of the regional intelligentsia turned to the conservative right-wing option, which actively stimulated actions of protest against and opposition to communist authorities. This resulted in stigmatization of the region in the state media which started to produce increasingly negative image of South-Eastern Poland. Media did not always present this part of the country as rebellious but included visions of its economic, civilizational and cultural backwardness. Interestingly, that image was almost automatically reproduced by the media of the post-communist period. The region, as Malikowski and Paluch argue, was again characterized as plagued by constant strikes by lazy workers, economic scandals, political conflicts, in particular ethnically motivated, chronic poverty, unemployment, unsuccessful economic ventures, etc. Elites of the region have been accused of bad management, futile conflicts and corruption. Moreover, the region has been imagined as “cultural desert” with the only exception of the famous Łan´cut Festival of classic music. This trend, reconstructed by Malikowski and Paluch, could be probably linked to the wider economic dimension of the decline of the communist bloc. Increasingly frustrated elites of the peripheral region were among the earliest ones to switch their loyalty from communist rulers and the Soviet Union to Western Europe and the traditional conservative values of Polish Catholicism. This resulted in their symbolic stigmatization by the communist media as well as in political and economic punitive measures by the Warsaw government. The fall of communism did not bring, however, a radical breakthrough for the region, since its economic and political marginality only increased after the collapse of the Soviet Union. Even if it has been cherished by conservative intellectuals and politicians as being the stronghold of all major right-wing parties, on the general level of the mainstream media, the region was not able to regain its positive image, lost in the 1980s. Nevertheless, as I will show at the end of this chapter, Rzeszów actively works on breaking with the image of being a part of Eastern Poland and promotes its new-old vision of a dynamic hub of innovative economy.
The new regional identities in Eastern Poland Let me now show how three regions in Eastern Poland, and in particular their capitals, react to Orientalizing tendencies in national and international discourses of the post-communist period. I will focus on the cases of Białystok, Lublin and, to the lesser extent, Rzeszów, which are all capitals of new large regions (voivodships) in Eastern Poland. The regions were created by the reform of the country’s administrative organization, implemented in 1998 by the Buzek Government. 49 voivodships, introduced in 1975 under the rule of
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the Communist Party secretary Edward Gierek, were replaced by 16 large and partly self-governing regions. The 1975 reform was based on the French model of departments-based organization of space. The 49 voivodships had similar size to that of the French departments and their borders ignored all historical and cultural divisions, just as those in the French system did. The critics of this system argued that it restricted the development of the largest cities, since the 1975 voivodships were relatively small and less important cities developed at the expense of the metropolises, also due to tax redistribution. The 1998 reform reversed that logic. The new regions were mostly planned on the basis of existing regional identities and their borders usually tried to follow historical lines dividing Polish territory, in particular, political borders of the nineteenth century and of the inter-war period. The main exceptions were Upper Silesia, where the former German/Prussian part of the region has been united with the former Russian Da˛browa Bassin, the Cze¸stochowa region and part of former Austrian Silesia. An important assumption of the 1998 Buzek reform was to create regions with strong capitals (Gorzelak et al. 2001). This goal was not possible to achieve in all of the new voivodships since in some of them no clear leader in the urban structure could be pointed out, or they lacked any larger metropolis. This was particularly the case with parts of the pre-war regions of Eastern Prussia (with capital Königsberg), the former Wilno region and the Lwów region, the Western parts of which remained in Poland after 1945 but were cut off from their respective capital cities, known today as Kaliningrad in Russia, Vilnius in Lithuania and Lviv in Ukraine. Substitutes of these capitals emerged on the Polish parts of the former larger regions. They were respectively Olsztyn, Białystok and Rzeszów and became the new regional capitals. The new functions of these cities have considerably stimulated their growth but, they still can’t match the level of development of the former regional capitals on the other sides of the state border. In particular, the cities of Eastern Poland still have a relatively small number of large formalized business enterprises, especially in the production sector. At the same time, the negative effects of the collapse or bankruptcy of large factories (formerly state-owned), which used to generate a considerable number of workplaces before 1989, have not been fully compensated for yet. Another aspect of the low status of the new “eastern” regions has been revealed during the 1998 reform, namely, the unwillingness of many of the small and medium-sized cities to become a part of the new voivodships. This has been particularly visible in the case of the Podlasie region, where several of its counties resisted joining the new voivodship at the time of its formation before 1998. In particular, the cities of Ełk, Gołdap and Olecko, which were historically part of East Prussia, and, therefore, could boast some “German” heritage, did not want to be in Podlaskie voivodship, perceiving it as too . eastern. Łomza, which could present itself as more Western, and as a part of Central Poland, was also not too willing to join the Podlaskie voivodship. As has been already mentioned, regions of Central and Eastern Europe, just as all European regions, are under increasing pressure to produce their
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individual narratives of identity, history and culture. This tendency may be specifically related to the above mentioned ideology of new regionalism envisaging turning the regions into self-reflexive, self-financing and self-governing agents, whose ability to succeed in the competition for diverse assets is largely seen as function of their cultural mobilization. The regions of eastern Poland are no exception to this mechanism. They continue to actively create formal identity programs, which are sponsored predominantly by municipal and regional authorities but also by other institutions, primarily non-governmental organizations, committed to social and cultural mobilization of local communities. Here I will focus on the cases of the two largest cities of the region of eastern Poland, namely Białystok and Lublin. References to other centers, in particular Rzeszów, will also be made. However Białystok and Lublin seem most illustrative from the point of view of the analysis of new ideologies of eastness at the regional level. One of the reasons why the two cities produced a wide stream of discourse on their new regional identity is that they decided to take part in the Polish edition of the “European Capital of Culture 2016” contest. This mobilized them to produce comprehensive new identity programs with the wide participation of local elites as well as of professional PR and advertising agencies. Eventually, both cities failed to win the contest, although Lublin’s application reached its final phase. Since the town managed to mobilize a wide public support for its proposal, the disappointment after the city of Wrocław was selected as the winner was very strong in Lublin. Some have even commented that the entire contest idea was skewed toward “western” regions, as the winner was expected to prove its true “Europeanness” (Laufer, 2009). In any case, the city decided to implement the program of its cultural activities, proposed for the contest, irrespectively of its results. Through the examples of the cities of eastern Poland we can see how the region deals with its “eastern identity” which is generally perceived as a clear symbolic burden, just like the actual geographic location in Eastern Europe and eastern Poland. On the most general level, we can talk about three basic strategies: direct rejection of eastness, its avoidance, or redefinition. Rejection of eastness is, in most cases, related to its assignment to more eastern areas. Avoidance of eastness amounts to ignoring the supposedly eastern location of a given locality or region. Redefinition of eastness is the most complex category involving diverse techniques that attempt to relate a region’s values to as many “Western” values as possible, without rejection of a region’s eastern location or some elements of its eastern identity. The classic form of such hybrid approach is the discourse of the new borderlands, discussed in the earlier chapter. Other strategies of redefinition of eastness involve victimization, that is, creation of an image of a region as being a suffering victim of eastern barbarians. Such strategies may be seen as attempts at removing the oriental stigma and relating to Western European discourses. On the other hand, elements of the old discourses of the borderland are still relevant in many instances. It would be, therefore, difficult to say that the new regional ideologies of eastness have completely ousted the old discourses of the east, like, for
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example, the Kresy discourses. However, their uses seem much more nuanced in contemporary narratives. One could argue that the most successful among regional identity narratives would be those that succeed both at relating to dominant Western-origin discourses of the new borderlands, and to local, historically developed narratives. Thus, we can still encounter discourses which have the ability to relate to the Kresy discourse in its different forms, particularly in ways that do not imply accusations of Polish imperial ambitions, Polish-centrism and paternalism. We can also encounter discourses with references to the Russian presence and heritage in the regions, in particular, during the partition period. In any case, most of the discourses on new regional identities share some basic characteristics. First, the fundamental distinction between the superior West and the inferior East is always made very clear, even if the means of referring to it may be diverse. This basic opposition has always a clear temporal dimension in narratives of the new eastern identity. It is based on the symbolic role of the turning point of the fall of communism, understood as a moment of liberation and transition from Eastern oppression to Western freedom. The space of freedom is in most cases embodied by the European Union. The EU is usually imagined not only as a space of freedom but also as a space of opportunities and prosperity. In all regional narratives, the EU accession is presented as an unprecedented historical chance for the regions. The communist period is presented as grey period of poverty and totalitarian dictatorship. On a more specific level, the EU structural funds are often presented as the main dimension of the space of opportunities, which opened for the regions after Poland’s accession to the European Union. All new regional identity discourses strongly rely on the new borderland discourse which is closely linked to the paradigmatic view of the post-communist period as the era of freedom, prosperity and opportunity. The new borderland paradigm involves a strong emphasis on cultural heritage and multiculturalism, which constitute assets, at least theoretically, inherited from the past. However, the fall of communism is usually presented as the pivotal moment allowing the mobilization of these assets and the release of their hidden energies. Postcommunism and, in particular, the European Union are, thus, presented as vehicles of modernity but also as most effective mobilizers of the historical heritage and of cultural diversity. Additionally, all of the new regional identity narratives construct the images of the cities and regions in question as intermediaries between the West and the East. They are supposed to become “bridges” or “gates” between their backward eastern neighbors and the prosperous West. Such visions are related to the image of the post-communist era as characterized by unprecedented openness of borders. These basic frames of all new, officially sanctioned regional identity discourses are rarely openly challenged. Nevertheless, one can find, in marginal or private discourses, narratives that challenge, or to some extent, conflict with these fundamental assumptions. Thus, one can hear numerous stories about the past prosperity of the communist era, in particular, of the period of the 1970s. These silenced
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private narratives of the prosperity of the 1970s have been identified by several researchers, mostly in smaller cities of the region, where the fall of communism was not so clearly related to an economic or cultural renaissance. This is, for example, the story of the town of Siemiatycze near Białystok, where the 1970s are still commonly remembered as “golden years” (Borawska et al. 2007). But even in larger cities, like Białystok, narratives of deindustrialization or rising economic inequalities can be encountered. Narratives of rediscovery of multiculturalism and cultural revival are from time to time challenged by narratives of conflicts and tensions along national and religious lines. They will be discussed in more detail below, in the analysis of the Białystok case. At the same time, as has been already mentioned, the vision of the open borders and the borderland as a space of flows is often contradicted by private discourses denouncing the closure of Poland’s eastern border by the Schengen agreement. Let me now look closer at specific cases and analyze the symbolic strategies employed by Eastern Poland’s elites as well as the context of identity debates in Polish regions.
Białystok The institutionally developed regional identity of the city of Białystok and the region of Podlasie closely follows the canons of the new borderland identity. The city of Białystok commissioned a project on city re-branding at a private communication agency. The agency suggested a slogan, envisaged as an attempt of reconciling the “eastness” of the city and its “Western aspirations”. The city authorities agreed to accept the watchword “Rising Białystok” (Wschodza˛cy Białystok), in reference to sunrise in the east, as the leading city brand. The official statement on the town hall’s website admitted that the slogan is an attempt at reversing negative associations of the town with notions of it as an “eastern wall” (s´ciana wschodnia) and “Poland B”. The document, provided by the agency, posited that: Białystok is a very important, if not the most important place on the map of the eastern part of the country. This is were the idea comes from to openly relate to Białystok’s location and make it an important trump card, instead of bashfully silencing it. Putting it more bluntly, from the point of view of marketing, it is better to be the first in the eastern wall than eighteen or forty-second in the entire country. This is why the idea of the promotion of the town is well reflected in the world ‘Rising’. (Eskadra-MarketPlace, 2008: 122) An additional asset of the slogan was seen in the fact that the Polish word “wschód” means both “east” and “sunrise”. As the communication agency suggested, the word is related to such notions as “birth, morning, beginning of something new and development, advance as well as growth in power” (Eskadra-MarketPlace, 2008: 122). It was suggested that the slogan is based
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on a “promising metaphor of considerable power” (Eskadra-MarketPlace, 2008: 122). Interestingly, the agency advised the town hall to avoid in its promotional materials any photographs which could relate to “stereotypical images of Eastern Europe” (Eskadra-MarketPlace, 2008: 137). Despite the fact that the Polish–Belarusian border is currently relatively sealed, the official interpretation of the “Rising Białystok” slogan also involves its metaphorical function as a “gate between East and West”. The nature of the exchange between the East and the West, of which Białystok seems to be considered a part, is unsurprisingly imagined in an asymmetrical way, typical for dominant orientalist stereotypes of the region. Thus, the town hall’s web site announces: Rising Białystok [is defined] as a gate between East and West taking full advantage of its several centuries of tradition, center of transfer of people, services, financial assets, ideas and modern know-how moving from West to East, and in the same time as a city opening Europe towards the spirituality, cultural inspirations and the economic potential of the East. (Białystok, 2009) The economic role of the “east” is thus recognized, but the key assets of the region are identified in the sphere of “culture” and “spirituality”. At the same time, Białystok puts a heavy emphasis on its cultural assets when building an image, directed towards the remaining parts of Poland. The authors of the Białystok communication campaign emphasize its “living multicultural character” (z˙ ywa wielokulturowos´c´). As they argue, it is the only city in Poland, characterized by a “living that is a contemporary and authentic mix of languages, cultures and religions” (Białystok, 2009). “In other words, Białystok has historically, geographically and socially the most interesting situation in Poland in the area of fashionable intercultural communication” (Białystok, 2009). At the same time, the relatively short history of Białystok as a town is presented as uniquely dynamic. However, there is no detailed account of the economic history of the town, which features unprecedented growth of industry in the late nineteenth century. Under the slogan of the “rising Białystok”, such “eastern values” as hospitality, openness, quite, and less competitive way of life are promoted. They can be directly called orientalist, but they certainly relate to a vision of a peripheral region that attracts potential investors and visitors by its peaceful atmosphere rather than by its dynamism. This idealist vision of Podlasie region as a new borderland type space appears not only in official documents, promotional materials and websites. It has its supporters also in the intellectual milieus. For example, the well-known Polish–Belarussian novelist Sokrat Janowicz wrote the following about this region: In Podlasie which was neighboring with Lithuania, a specific mental type has been formed, of people open towards others and the world. Our region was after all part of a country which was not only known of
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While the above program for the town’s promotion as a multicultural meltingpot is not openly contested (it is difficult to question the thesis that Białystok is unique in Poland in terms of cultural diversity), many of the aspects of its special cultural composition and heritage are, especially among its intellectual milieus, hotly debated issues. The most pertinent of these issues involve questions regarding the relations between cultural and religious groups in the city, in particular, between Catholics and members of the Orthodox Church. Moreover, the large Orthodox population of the town (about one-third of its inhabitants) is internally divided and suffers from several problems, most of which can be related to broadly defined issues of orientalism. In general, the symbolic status of the Orthodox minority is lower than that of the Catholic majority. This is, of course, not a normative judgment or a view that would be publicly presented by any official or academic. Formally, cultures or religions are naturally treated as equal, but several analysts, and, particularly intellectuals, related to Orthodox circles, complain about the informal symbolic hierarchy. This pervasive, even if usually implicit, hierarchy that structures social interactions in the region may be seen as a good example of how imagined borderlands may be far from the ideals of equality of cultures, advanced by their theorists. Let me quote Andrzej Sadowski, Maciej Tefelski and Eugeniusz Mironowicz, who characterized the interaction of cultures in the Podlasie region. As they argued: in the Polish-Belarusian borderlands we are dealing with a wide and multidimensional cultural contact. It is not a contact between two local cultures, of two equal national cultures. It is a contact of a local (Belarusian) and a national (Polish) culture. ( … ) On the Polish-Belarusian borderland, where a phenomenon of cultural stratification exists, the dominant culture is valued as higher, while the subordinate culture is considered lower. (Sadowski et al. 1999: 89) As many voices in the region argue, it is mostly Orthodoxy which is perceived commonly as eastern in the negative way of that notion, thus activating all typical orientalist associations. At the same time, it is not easy to point to many tangible manifestations of such devaluation. As it seems, major part of its mechanism are “invisible” in the sense that they are not reflected in public discourse, but rather implied by otherwise neutral or even inclusive narratives. These mechanisms are reinforced by the fact that considerable part of the Orthodox minority avoids direct declarations of their nationality (national
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belonging, not to be confused with citizenship).2 In particular, only part of that population declares Belarusian national identity, while growing numbers of its members declare themselves as not belonging to any national group, or, increasingly, as Poles. As some analysts note, such declarations are often made only under pressure since considerable part of the Orthodox population tries to avoid questions of their national identity. In effect, the issues of ethnic or, to use Polish terms, national relations are not an easy subject for debates in the public sphere. As Andrzej Sadowski established, 80 percent of Orthodox individuals in Białystok declared they are Polish only if asked directly to choose a national identity (Sadowski, 1995). Otherwise, they prefer not to declare any nationality (or ethnicity, to use English term). We could note that traditionally, the identity of “tutejszy” (“local” or “from here”) has been typical for inhabitants of rural areas who have not been willing or able to declare any nationality in the entire region of Belarusian ethnicity. Today, the local “tutejszy” identity is not common in large towns, however, the avoidance of direct and public declaration of national identity is a common phenomenon. It can be interpreted as a result of both the low status of Belarusian culture, state and Orthodoxy, and of cross-pressures to which people from Orthodox families are subjected. They result not only from the complex social and political composition of the regional political scene, but also from the fragmentation of the field of political and social activists of Orthodox background. Nevertheless, the religious criterion seems the most adequate to identify that large and clearly identifiable segment of the region’s population. On the other hand, its public use may be contested. Some question public references to the notion of “Orthodox minority”, arguing that Poland is not a religious state and that it is not justified for it to divide its citizens according to their religious beliefs. At the same time, it is difficult to argue that religion, understood as an active involvement in a religious community, is the key factor defining the minority. Orthodoxy in this case should not be understood as an actively practiced religion but as a cultural background, one, clearly different from the dominant Catholic culture of the Polish majority. Nonetheless, the problem remains. The large group under discussion appears to be not only poorly organized and badly represented, but also largely unnamed. As a result, several synonyms to refer to its public existence are used, such as “people of non-Polish nationality” or “non-Catholics”. The inability to find and use a clear name for this particular group seems to be one of the results of the strong pressure of orientalization, especially present in eastern Poland. Therefore, it is difficult to define that key minority of the region, part of which traditionally prefers to remain unnamed. One of the paradoxical effects of this unwillingness to publicly declare ethnic, national, or even religious identity, is that it becomes even more difficult to objectively scale the asymmetrical treatment of the minority’s representatives, or any other manifestations of what could be considered devaluation of this wide and multidimensional group. However, its relatively lower symbolic status is strongly, even if mostly
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informally, defined as eastern and widely admitted in informal conversations. Some representatives of the Orthodox minority openly declare that their community is being oppressed by public institutions, dominated by Catholics. On the other hand, critics see the constant complaints of many members of the Orthodox community as manifestations of their besieged castle mentality. Andrzej Nikitorwicz quotes an opinion of a respondent from Białystok whose view could be considered typical for a member of the Orthodox minority in the region: People of non-Polish nationality often don’t admit their identity fearing losing a job or problems at work, school or residence. Official declarations of politicians and decision-makers concerning their support for multi-culturalism are perceived as untruthful, and the real life proves it well. At official events the minority cultures are not visible. In the local radio and TV stations minority programs are confined to ghettoes of 15 minutes. Music or other forms of minority cultures, or coming from the neighboring countries are almost absent from official broadcasting or events. The same global pulp rules. All brochures and web-sites mention the multicultural character of the region. However, probably most of the politicians of Białystok, when asked what they could show to a Western tourist, besides the Orthodox Churches, which are always visible and are rather symbols of the multi-religious character of the region, would probably not be able to point to any minority initiative. There is a clear dissonance between official declarations about tolerance, made both by the local authorities and inhabitants, and the everyday life. Minorities are usually perceived through a prism of stereotypes, usually negative. For instance, Ukrainians are nationalists, Belarusians are communists, Lithuanians are nationalists etc. All these minorities are usually labeled as ‘Ruscy’, that is as poor, backward and hating Poles, being a fifth column. At the same time Białystok according to these opinions should be a bastion, an outpost defending against the East. This is well manifested in the behavior of the politicians of the right. (Nikitorowicz, 2009: 118) We could distinguish several aspects of the low status of the Belarusian or the Orthodox minority. First, it is strongly related to the peasant identity, which particularly in Poland has historically low symbolic status. Belarusians, if identified as “peasants” may be seen to be uneducated and non-intelligent, lacking basic culture and manners. However, as some observers argue, both Belarusians and Poles are ashamed of their rural origin. However, most of the current inhabitants of Białystok are descendants or even members of peasant families in the region. In this respect, Białystok is similar to contemporary Lviv in that it is inhabited mostly by descendants of former peasants from the region. In any case, it is estimated that before the war merely 50 thousand Poles inhabited the town of Białystok.
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One quite peculiar but very telling manifestation of the relatively low status of the Belarusian culture in the region is the very low interest in studying Belarusian culture and language in Białystok. The Belarusian department of the University in Białystok has less students than the University of Warsaw or . the Jagiellonian University in Cracow. As Elzbieta Czykwin reported, not even 15 students were enrolled in the program of Belarusian Philology at the University of Białystok in the mid 2000s (Czykwin, 2010). At the same time, many Belarusian activists complain that the image of Belarus in the Polish media is dramatically distorted. Oleg Łatyszonek calls it “tragi-comical” and argues that it has a strong impact on the status of Belarusians and Belarusian culture in Poland.3 Modern Belarus is thus presented in the Polish media as a country of kholkhozniks, drunkards, and as a backward agricultural postSoviet dictatorship. Minsk has never been shown as a large and relatively modern town. This also reinforces the stereotype of all things Belarusian to be peasant in their nature. Even if some analysts report weakening of the stigma referring to the rural character of Belarusians, Belarus is still largely projected as a rural, peasant country. It is imagined as a part of what some call in derogatory way “ruski s´wiat” or the “Ruthenian/Russian world”, understood as backward, poor or even barbarian post-Soviet inferior space, with which no one would want to be identified. Fear of being perceived as a part of the “ruski s´wiat” may be seen as one of the reasons for avoiding identification with Belarus, which may be activated by a declaration of Belarusian national identity. Given this low status of Belarus in Poland and its identification as “peasant country”, one could argue that in Polish perception, the Soviet project did not succeed to present itself as modern, that is, not-rural. Belarusians as well as Ukrainians at all times appear as being “peasant”. One can note that this opposition is not necessarily based on the rural-urban cleavage, but probably on the Polish traditional peasantry-gentry opposition, which may be linked to the perception of Poles in these countries as members of the broadly defined gentry nation (naród szlachecki). Interestingly, recent years brought an important change in the status of Lithuanians within the informal social hierarchies of the Podlasie region. Lithuanians, who were originally perceived as a part of the “ruski s´wiat” and also labeled as “Ruscy”, gradually lost these stigmatizing labels. This process of their symbolic advance could be attributed to their disappearance from local bazaars which gathered traders from the former Soviet Union and to Lithuania’s accession to the European Union. Another aspect of the low status of the Orthodox inhabitants of Białystok and its region is their relation to the communist past. In the communist period, Orthodox elites were widely considered as privileged. In effect, the low status of the Soviet Union and the communist past translated into an increased deprecation of Belarusians. At the same time, although Andrzej Sadowski confirms these widespread perceptions, he points out that the Belarusian Orthodox culture has been in a dominated position during the entire communist period. Nevertheless, the perceived links with the communist past result in a
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common distrust towards Belarusians as lacking loyalty to the Polish state. The common phenomenon of high electoral support of the post-communist Social Democratic Party (SLD) by Orthodox voters is sometimes mentioned as a justification for such interpretations, in particular among conservative milieus, known for their suspicion towards communists and post-communists. At the same time, we can observe an interesting tendency regarding voting behaviors and strategic political alliances. The liberal Civic Platform (PO) increasingly attracts Belarusian voters, as they tend to choose options, considered to be less nationalistic and less Catholic. At the same time the liberal PO, as some observers argue, discourages many Orthodox voters with its orientalist rhetoric on the national level. However, it still continues to attract more Belarusian voters at the expense of overtly Catholic conservatives of PIS, who never attracted minority votes, and first of all of former Communists who done the image of modernizers but, in effect, do not appeal very much to the younger generation. In any case, all these groups are losing their members. The post-communist SLD is losing former voters to the liberal PO, the Belarusians are gradually acquiring Polish identity, while the Orthodox Church is losing its believers to the Catholic Church or, simply, its former members become religiously indifferent. In other words, processes of gradual Polonization, Catholicization, and secularization are slowly progressing in the region. The religious dimension of identities, nevertheless, seems most resistant to change. The Orthodox Church tries to resist the above mentioned processes by increasing its Polonization, which is envisaged as a way of retaining influence among the part of its believers who declare Polish national identity. Moreover, the Polish Autocephalous Orthodox Church strongly identifies itself with the Polish state and implements Polonization of its rituals. Due to these moves, some observers call the strategy of the Orthodox Church in Podlasie anti-Belarusian. In any case, the Orthodox Church of the region clearly does not want to be perceived as exclusively Belarusian. At the same time, the clergy, both Catholic and Orthodox, retains privileged position in the city. At the same time, the national and cultural Belarusian movement in Poland is fragmented. Its fundamental divisions follow the geopolitical logic. One can distinguish between the following three camps: a pro-Western liberal camp, a post-communist camp which is relatively neutral in geopolitical terms, and a pro-Lukashenka faction that sympathizes with neo-Soviet ideology. That fragmentation is especially visible in the media sphere and is also translated into hierarchization of cultural tastes. On the pro-Western flank is Radio Racja which prefers rather higher and Western-style popular culture. On the other hand, the Belarusian Social and Cultural Association (BTSK), which obtains financial support from the Belarusian state, has a clear preference for Belarusian folk culture. One of the effects of the low symbolic status of Belarusian culture and its lack of a clear dominant model was that activists of the Belarusian movement in Poland started an initiative, conceived with the intention to reinforce the
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identity of ethnic minorities in Poland and to improve their public image. This initiative has been organized by the main Polish daily Gazeta Wyborcza and aimed at promoting multi-cultural values in Poland, in particular, pluralistic ethnic identities. The campaign was called “I am a Pole” (Akcja Jestem Polka˛ / Jestem Polakiem) and its main element was a series of posters featuring photos of persons who declare double identity, for instance “I am Pole and I am a Jew”. The Polish identity was supposedly understood as a civic one and possibly also as a cultural one, while the second identity was ethnic or cultural in most cases. The campaign, while being accepted by the leaders of most of Poland’s minorities, has been rejected by Polish Belarusians, who form one of the largest national minorities in the country. The reason for their resistance and for the negative reaction of most of the leaders of national Belarusian organizations could be related to the nature of their definition of Belarusian identity, which in their perspective is based on an opposition to Polishness. This negative attitude does not exclude acceptance of Polish citizenship, but the choice of a Belarusian identity, which faces particularly Orthodox inhabitants of the Podlasie region, is, in the view of Belarusian activists, defined as a binary one between Polish or Belarusian national identities. Accepting a double identity as a socially viable norm would, in their view, further stimulate the Polonization of their potential constituents. Such problems of the Orthodox or Belarusian community, most of which are only occasionally discussed in the public sphere and never mentioned in narratives directed towards external audiences like tourists or other visitors, which makes slogans referring to “multicultural Białystok” sound, at best, superficially. To be sure, many of Białystok’s intellectuals question the optimistic assumptions of the multi-cultural image of the city. Numerous cultural festivals held in the city, like Oktawa Kultur and other events, are often perceived as “artificial” or purely folkloristic. There are many voices which complain about the lack of “true” dialogue between cultures in this allegedly multicultural town. These cultures are, as it appears, considerably isolated and they rarely interact in the public sphere, even if representatives of their elites keep constant contact. The main reason is seen in the domination of the standard Polish culture in the public sphere. It is, in fact, quite difficult to hear Belarusian or any other foreign language on the streets of Białystok. This fact is an argument, quoted by some critics who question the thesis on the existence of multicultural environment in the town. Belarusian culture remains closed and confined mostly to the private sphere. Surprisingly, despite all public declarations of support for minority cultures, there is no actual Center of Belarusian Culture in Białystok. Oleg Łatyszonek argues that the core of the Belarusian community in the region lives in what could be called a ghetto and is separated from the outside word. The dominating mode of coexistence of cultures, as critics argue, includes mutual ignorance, lack of interest, and avoidance of any interference between cultural communities as a social norm. There are several topics, which are usually avoided in the intercultural dialogue. At the same time, informants from the region talk about
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the existence of secret codes, which signal specific political, national and cultural identities. Orthodox community members putting up Polish flags during national holidays can be mentioned as an example in this regard. Multiculturalism in any case is often defined as a “pure abstraction”. Andrzej Sadowski writes that the conviction that Białystok is a multicultural city persists, although no one really knows what it would imply for the inhabitants of the city (Sadowski, 2009: 58). Moreover, Sadowski emphasizes the importance of a complex network of power interests that define the relations between the main cultural groups in town. As he writes: Białystok since several years has been a space of open and hidden struggles between national groups of the city. Most often they involved uses of authority and influences of representatives of the central power, while most of them concerned the character of the city. (Sadowski, 2009: 56) Thus, as Sadowski suggests, local elites use their specific relations in Warsaw as assets in local games. In this way, political conflicts at the local level become intertwined with political games on the national, or even higher levels. The above mentioned process of gradual Polonization, Catholicization and secularization of the region may be seen as an outcome of the works of a relatively clear dominant hierarchy of cultures, languages and confessions which are related to political and economic structures. The Polish state formally supports Belarusian culture and minority, in some aspects even more actively than the current government of Belarus. Nevertheless, the symbolic status of Belarusian culture remains low, which seems to be not only the effect of internal Polish mechanisms but may be related to the general logic of the European hierarchy of cultures. Thus degradation of the status of the OrthodoxBelarusian cultural and political field, largely unintended by Polish-Catholic elites, makes the ideals of the new borderland difficult to implement. In addition, debates or even tensions related to the status of other groups in the region and to identity projects may be seen as confirming this view. One such controversy was sparked by the preparations of the application for the contest of the European Capital of Culture 2016. Stanisław Stankiewicz, animator of Roma culture and editor in chief of the Roma monthly magazine Rrom po Drom, was a member of the advisory council responsible for Białystok’s application. He succeeded to convince the city authorities to promote Białystok as “the European capital of Roma People”. Stankiewicz’s idea was to make Białystok’s positive experiences in successful coexistence between Roma and Polish cultures a central element in the city’s application to the “European Capital of Culture” contest. His intention was to present the town in a most positive light by using what he considered to be comparably successful experiences of the Roma community in Poland, and, in particular, in the Podlasie region. This positive image of Podlasie as a peaceful
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heaven for the Roma people would confirm the multi-cultural vision of the region and could be contrasted to the much less fortunate relations between the Roma and other European nations, which involve, among many other negative examples, the recent conflicts in France. The slogan of Białystok as Roma’s capital, has been adopted for Białystok’s application. However, given the poor results of the city in the contest, several voices criticized the idea to present Białystok as Roma’s capital as one of the sources of the city’s failure. Some even feared that the slogan did not allow Białystok to gain wider social support as did Lublin. Some, as it was later suggested by critics, could interpret the slogan as a vision of Roma rule in the region; a suggestion which referred to tensions and to the persistence of negative stereotypes. These “wrong associations”, as Stankiewicz later called them, proved that, in fact, ideas of multi-cultural coexistence are rather abstract for most of the region’s inhabitants, while tensions and stereotypes are part of the social reality. Another interesting area of controversy was the promotion of Białystok as a city of Esperanto language. The idea was based on the fact that the inventor of the artificial lingua franca, Ludwik Zamenhof, was actually born in Białystok. Besides the promotion of the idea of Esperanto as a communication tool, not restricted by cultural barriers, the Jewish background of Zamenhof was an important part of the project. Trying to capitalize on both ideas, namely those of Białystok as a home of Esperanto and Jewish culture, the city set up the Zamenhof Center, a cultural institution with several functions dedicated both to the promotion of Esperanto and to Zamenhof ’s life. The center, among its several units, includes a museum of Jewish culture. Activities, linked to the center, include attempts at teaching Esperanto to children from Białystok. At the same time, a “Jewish trail” along the significant places for Jewish heritage in Białystok has been marked out. In effect, the town began to attract growing numbers of Jewish tourists and people who are professionally involved in preserving or marketing the Jewish heritage in Białystok. As the director of the Zamenhof center Jerzy Szerszunowicz4 argues, the historical Jewishness of the town is only slowly accepted by its inhabitants. However, the idea of the promotion of Esperanto in the “multicultural” Białystok encounters criticism, especially by those who consider Zamenhoff the author of the idea of “annihilation of languages”. Indeed, Zamenhoff’s assumption that diversity of languages hinders communication can be read as pessimistic and not compatible with Bialystok’s official embrace of multiculturalism. Another interesting aspect of Białystok’s new identity program is the Russian question. The Russian factor played an important role in the history of Białystok. In fact, the town owes its dynamic development in the second part of the nineteenth century to its specific location in the Russian Empire. That period was marked by the town’s rapid development and economic boom. This rapid economic development brought an influx of Russian officials and workers. The city was, in fact, dominated by Russian and Jewish cultures, while Russian was the main language of communication. This largely Russian
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character of the town in the period of its most dynamic development is highly incompatible with the perception of the historical role of Russia in contemporary Poland. As a result, this key Russian heritage in the history of the city is largely marginalized and silenced. In contrast to the attempts at revival of Jewish memory, the scale of which may not be very large but suffices to make Jewish heritage visible, the Russian past of the city remains absent in most of the contemporary historical narratives. The most visible of its elements have a rather anecdotal character. A very telling story is the one of a Russian colonel, Nikolay Kavelin, who remained in Poland after the Russian Revolution and the fall of the Russian Empire to become the founder of the main football club in Białystok, Jagiellonia. Fans of the club have found Kavelin’s grave in Warsaw’s Orthodox cemetery and restored it a couple of years ago. Recently, a roundabout and a restaurant in Białystok were named after Kavelin. More interestingly, a statue of his dog, destroyed during the war, has been restored. The Russian association protested against calling the statue “Dog Kavelin”, arguing that calling the dog by the name of Kavelin was a mockery, and that the small figure of the dog should be called “Kavelin’s Dog”. Another famous person linked to Białystok is Dziga Vertov who was a Soviet pioneer of documentary film, a newsreel director and a cinema theorist. Born in Białystok to a Russified Jewish family, he left the town with his family during the evacuation of the Russian army in 1915. A bas-relief, devoted to Vertov, has been unveiled on a wall in one of Białystok’s movie theaters in 2009. However, this happened among voices of criticism. In this case, what was controversial was not so much Vertov’s Russian identity, but his involvement in the Bolshevik propaganda machine. In effect, Białystok’s city council hotly debated the question of dedicating a film festival in town to Vertov (Boruch, 2011). Some observers link the growing interest in remembering the city’s Jewish and Russian past to the coming to power of the liberal Civil Platform in the city council. The Jewish elements seem, however, to have much stronger support and are much more widely recognized than the Russian ones. The disproportion between the popularity of the Jewish and the Russian heritage of the city seem to have complex roots. Nevertheless, one could risk a generalization that the relative success of Jewish motifs could be related to the strong contemporary linkage of Jewishess with Westness and modernity. At the same time, the internal stratification of pre-war Jewish communities, in particular, their division into richer, more liberal factions and poorer, usually more religious majority, often Orientalized both by liberal Jews and non-Jews alike, is usually forgotten. On the other hand, Russia and Russians are clearly identified with Eastness and backwardness. Therefore, while representatives of the conservative right may be equally skeptical towards the revival of Russian and Jewish heritages as incompatible with the conservative paradigm of Polishness (which is linked to Catholicism), liberals seem to have a preference for Jewish rather than Russian elements as potential building blocks of the “useful past”, from which they would like to construct an image of Białystok as a city with an inspiring past, a city, open towards the West and the future.
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Interestingly, in the context of the region of Podlasie, the Belarusian identity appears stronger than the Russian one. In Belarus, the domination of Russian culture over the Belarussian one is clear and results in a constant process of Russification, which takes place for several decades already. In Podlasie, however, the opposite tendency could be observed in the recent past. In that region, Polonization was and still continues to be the most pervasive social force. However, for those who resisted the process of Polonization, that is, mostly for the Orthodox population, the entire period after the fall of the Russian Empire has been characterized by Belaruthenization (or Belarusification) of Russians rather than Russification of Belarusians. Thus, most of the descendants of Russians who settled in the region and, more specifically, in the town before 1915 and did not leave it, consider themselves either Poles or Belarusians, in case they retained their Orthodox religious identity. This relative superiority of the Belarusian over Russian identity in the Polish context may be explained by the effects of strong orientalist forces in the social space. These forces devaluate Russian identity and culture as more eastern and less compatible with the dominant Polish culture than Belarusian ones which is considered more Western and closer to Polish identity and culture. Thus, the president of the small Russian Social and Educational Society in Białystok, Halina Roman´czuk, complains that most contemporary inhabitants of Białystok who have a Russian family background are ashamed of their origin and, therefore, many adopt a Belarusian identity.5 The domination of Jewish elements in Białystok’s contemporary discourses over Russian ones seem to be also related to a stronger emphasis on the cultural rather than economic dimension of the city’s past. Thus, if we look for images that emphasize its non-Polish past, Białystok currently appears rather as a small Jewish town, known for several of its gifted sons like Zamenhoff or Vertov, rather than as a Russian “Manchester of the East”, which is another potential identity of the city that still waits to be “discovered”. Sokrat Janowicz, Belarusian–Polish writer who died at the beginning of 2013, was an exception in this respect. He was one of the few intellectuals working in the region, who clearly recognized the importance of the period of the turn of the twentieth century for Białystok. As he wrote: It was a norm to move factories from Łódz´ to the region of Białystok or even further east, to Gródek and Krynki. This trend has even increased after the opening of the St.Petersburg-Warsaw-Vienna railway. Podlasie thrived again as the Eastern Gate. Money and commodities were moving to it on a scale which is unimaginable even in dreams to our funny contemporary decision makers following all the time the dry faces of Warsaw officials. Fortunes, which were causing symptoms of mental illnesses, have been lost in the Hotel Ritz and casinos of Białystok. I am reading Dostoyevsky, who in such books as Crime and punishment or Brothers Karamazov appears to me as a typically Białystok writer. This is exactly the image of Białystok in times of prosperity of the new society. (Janowicz, 2012)
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At the same time, the city, or part of its elite, may not resist the temptation to partly rely on the old borderland paradigm, in particular on the Kresy myth. This is how the official web site of the town defines its link to Kresy: Białystok refers to its traditions with pride. It cherishes the memory of the magnificent Polish Kresy, where this melting pot of nations and religions has left a trace of inimitable cultural phenomena. Białystok is today the last of the cities, where that tradition is still present in the daily life of its inhabitants. (Białystok, 2010) The public sphere of Białystok is divided as far as the attitude towards Kresy is concerned. On the one hand, we have those who directly promote its uses. They include organizations like the Association of the Friends of Wilno (Vilnius) and Grodno. Established in 1989 on the crest of the enthusiastic rediscovery of Polish heritage and culture in the Soviet Union, it still functions by focusing its activities on the support of Poles in the Grodno region of Belarus. In Białystok the association co-organizes the initiative “Days of the Kresy Culture”. Its representatives complain about being accused of playing a role similar to that of the German associations of the displaced (Vertriebenenverband). They argue that the comparison is unfounded, especially given the fact that the question of restitution of Polish property in countries of the former Soviet Union is practically unconceivable. The association, similarly to most other Kresy activists, presents itself as focused on cherishing the “idea of Kresy”, Kresy’s history and traditions (Fuszara, 2012). The Kresy idea is presented of course as a form of multiculturalism. Critical reactions to the Kresy discourse by representatives of ethnic minority organizations are seen as resulting from their oversensitivity and, possibly, slightly nationalistic tendencies. Rafał Cierniak from the Association of the Friends of Vilnius and Grodno admits that Jewish and especially Russian culture do not fall under the scope of the association’s interests.6 At the same time, he declares its European orientation. Uses of the Kresy mythology are, in fact, explicitly criticized by the representatives of Belarusian/Orthodox circles. Eugeniusz Wappa, the editor-in-chief of the Niwa Belarusian journal argues that “Kresowos´c´” amounts to Polishness and may be read as nostalgia after lost lands in the East, in particular after the cities of Lviv and Vilnius; a nostalgia which does not have positive connotations for him.7 Wappa agrees that the memory of the Great Duchy of Lithuania should be revived, but, in his view, its Belarusian character must be recalled. From his perspective, the Kresy myth is a colonial narrative and must be related to the Polish program of resettlement of eastern regions during the interwar period, which had a strong aspect of Polonization. These regions, as Wappa argues, are no Kresy—that is, limits—of Poland but territories in the contemporary sovereign states of Lithuania, Belarus and Ukraine. For Oleg Łatyszonek, another Polish–Belarusian intellectual, Kresy is an offensive term, meaning
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“periphery”. As he notes, no one can suggest that a couple of large countries constitute a periphery. Łatyszonek insists that even if we consider Kresy as a purely historical notion, it usually implies Polonization of the past. The heritage, which is presented as Polish in the Kresy narrative, from a Belarusian point of view was never predominately Polish. In this regard, the castles of Lithuanian families like Radziwiłł are often mentioned as classic examples. Their inclusion into the Kresy narrative is seen as an instance of unjustified Polonization. The “cult of Kresy”, in Łatyszonek’s view, forces Belarusians to experience a foreign heritage (in this case Polish) as their own heritage. As Łatyszonek notes, for most Belarusians, “szlachta” (gentry) is a synonym of Polishness. Besides the criticism, coming from Belarussian-Orthodox circles which usually reiterate arguments against the Kresy discourse that are known from the general Polish debate, there is a local skepticism towards the idea of Białystok as the new or substitute capital of Kresy. Among the main arguments is the historical fact that Białystok was never a part of what has been identified as Kresy until 1939. Łatyszonek reminds the Russian aspect of the development of Białystok. The city was transformed into a major urban center due to the Russian decision to set up custom border and build the railway line from St Petersburg to Warsaw. He also quotes a number of examples of antiBelarussian policies implemented by the Polish state in the interwar-period, including the destruction of four Orthodox Churches. The period of the Second World War and its immediate aftermath was also characterized by conflicts, often bloody, along religious and ethnic lines. The memory of burned Orthodox villages is still vivid in the Belarusian community, while conservative Polish milieus cultivate the memory of anti-communist guerilla fighters, some of whom were implicated in clashes with the Orthodox population which often sided with Soviet and communist forces. This specific memory of conflicts and violence is hard to reconcile with the idyllic images of Kresy as a multicultural land of peaceful coexistence. Moreover, local historians, such as Wojciech S´leszyn´ski, remind (S´leszyn´ski, 2010) that historically Białystok was never a part of Kresy. The most Western town of Kresy was Grodno, which is today a part of Belarus. Nevertheless, the role of a substitute for Vilnius/Wilno, which was historically an important center of Polish culture, is attractive for Białystok, especially for commercial reasons. In this context, it is often reminded that one of the reasons for the success of Wrocław, currently perceived as one of the most dynamic Polish cities and the actual winner of the “European Capital of Culture 2016” contest, lies in its ability to play the role of a post-war substitute for Lwów, which is now the Ukrainian Lviv. This view is also shared in other cities which aspire to play similar roles as new/old Eastern centers in Poland. This is how this phenomenon was noted by Paweł Laufer of Lublin: Lublin was late in rediscovering its “eastern mission”. In the meantime, many of its potential functions as a “gate to the east” have been taken
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For Białystok, however, it is much more difficult to play the role of a new Wilno than it was for Wrocław to play the role of a new Lwów. One of the grounds for Wrocław’s image as the new Lwów was the fact that a considerable group of academics from the former Polish Lwów University and some other institutions starting in 1945 moved from the city which become Soviet Lviv to former Breslau now transformed into Polish Wrocław. The largest group of Polish academics from the former Polish Stefan Batory University of Wilno moved to Torun´ after 1945. In general, the number of former Vilnius inhabitants who settled in Białystok was not large. Thus, some in Białystok try to use even the slightest links the city had with Wilno. One such link is the plaque in Białystok’s main railway station, which commemorates Józef Piłsudski’s passing by Białystok on the way to “his bellowed Wilno”. As some note, the Kresy myth also gains popularity in the sphere of popular culture. The best example in this regard is the proliferation of the restaurants that offer Kresy cuisine. This interesting debate on the justification of the role of Białystok as the new capital of Kresy has several threads. Some of these threads reveal more local tensions between identity programs of particular factions of the regional elite or its field of power, while others reflect wider, national level debates on the place of the Kresy myth and, more generally, on that of the old borderlands discourse in the contemporary Polish public sphere. One of the specifically local projects, which could be related to the Kresy identity of Białystok, is the creation of a museum of Syberia or the memory of deportations. The project seems to have a relatively universal support as it fits the identity programs of most of the groups of the regional field of power. Given the fact that Russian and, in particular, Soviet deportations included representatives of all social and ethnic groups, the memory of these deportations is widely seen as a common memory for the inhabitants of the region. At the same time, the anti-communist undertone of the project is particularly appealing to conservative Poles, as well as to supporters of the Kresy myth. The authors of the idea of the museum took care to relate its narrative to liberal discourses, in particular to some aspects of the new borderlands discourses. Thus, the “Museum of the memory of Siberia” (Muzeum Pamie¸ci Sybiru), according to the “draft project of the museum program”: is supposed to widen and supplement the knowledge of the fate of Poles from the end of sixteenth century till the 1950s. Through the example of stories of inhabitants of the city and the region, the museum is supposed
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to show the drama of deportations which were experienced by Poles and other nations of Central and Eastern Europe. They constitute one of the sources of identity for the inhabitants of the multicultural region of Podlasie. The museum cannot be a political project, one that feeds Polish– Russian antagonisms. It should focus on showing the mechanisms of systems of both Tsarist Russia and the Soviet Union. It is very important to present the Sybiraks as victims of the system – first, tsarist and second, communist, and to emphasize that most of them were in fact Russians, as well as representatives of other nations inhabiting the Russian Empire and the Soviet Union, as well as citizens of Central European countries (in particular Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia). A story of freedom could be a universal central message of the museum – about loss of freedom (arrests and four great deportations), need for freedom (Maurycy Beniowski and his escape from Kamchatka), way towards freedom (evacuation of the Anders Army), regaining of freedom (freeing from Gulag), search for freedom (Bronisław Piłsudski) etc. (Muzeum Pamie¸ci Sybiru, 2012) Irrespectively of the attractiveness of the new borderland paradigm for Białystok’s elite, in particular for its liberal sectors, the stereotypical image of the city and the region is still strongly linked to the Kresy myth in popular discourses. This was well documented by Magdalena Zdrodowska, who studied the region’s image in contemporary tourist guides. In most of their accounts, common references to the Kresy character of the region were accompanied by classical motifs of exoticization (Zdrodowska, 2007). These motifs included images of the Wild East on the verge of Civilization. Podlasie was imagined as the limits of Europe, limits of the West and limits of the Civilization. Zdrodowska identified a new renaissance of Kresy motifs, in particular in numerous references to nature characterized as “fairytale-like, mysterious and idyllic” (Zdrodowska, 2007: 16). At the same time, elements of the new borderland discourse were also found by Zdrodowska. They included common remarks on the borderland character of the region manifested in its diversity, exotic mixture of cultures, religions and ethnicities (Zdrodowska, 2007: 18). Even very small minorities were exposed in such context. They included the Tatars, whose descendants are very few in the region. Their religious identity, however, fits very well with the image of a multicultural region. Some argue that Tatars became overpublicized as a symbolic rather than a really existing community. In addition, the region has been characterized as “sensitive to borderlands and hospitable”. The symbolic character of Białystok’s coat of arms has also been mentioned such contexts. Let me remind the reader that it is composed of two fields featuring the coats of arms of Poland and Lithuania. This pattern is linked to the fact that, historically, the internal border of the First Rzeczospolita between the “Crown” (or Crown of the Kingdom of Poland) and Lithuania passed through Białystok. As some argue, however, there is currently no clear idea how to use this heritage (Zdrodowska, 2007).
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How the Kresy myth is reproduced on different levels of social practices in the region has been illustrated very well in the studies of Eunice Blavascunas . who analyzed images of the famous Białowieza forest (Puszcza Białowieska) on the Polish–Belarussian border and more specifically, the ways it was perceived by tourists (Blavascunas, 2009). Blavascunas described the case of an expensive hotel in the forests, named “Soplicowo” in reference to the classic nineteenth-century poem by the Polish national poet Adam Mickiewicz. The poem may be considered one of the many classic texts of the Polish literary canon presenting an idealized image of the social relations in the pre-partition Kresy. The Polish tourists staying in Soplicowo hotel were predominantly attracted by the “wild”, “primeval” exotic forest of the Polish–Belarusian borderland. They were also offered an opportunity to buy short guided tours to the Belarusian side of the forest. The tours appeared to build a clear impression of Poland’s superiority as part of the EU over Belarus as part of the post-Soviet east. Blavascunas argued in particular that: The Polish tourists who participated in the tour to Belarus spoke of the experience in comedic terms laced with astonishment at the backwards behavior of Belarusians. All tours of the primeval forest consist of a visit to the home of the Belarusian Santa Claus dzed moroz. For these tourists, the capitalist enterprising of the Belarusian government as it strictly polices and parades tourists through the forest to the Santa Claus site, appears as a failure of European modernity, a laughable imitation of capitalism within the draconian dictatorial state of Belarus. It might be argued that crossing the border, for Polish tourists, is an act of claiming their Polish identity as European. People on the move are the quintessential cosmopolitan citizens, a feature of the EU’s economic power, which belongs to being European. ‘Taka bieda’ (such poverty!)”, I heard from the tourists, ‘but what a beautiful forest. You just can’t see that kind of nature on the Polish side’. These tourists’ imaginative projections of Belarus as not quite a European space are confirmed through the tour of the Belarusian forest. After visiting either the Polish primeval forest or the Belarusian primeval forest, they return to the safety of their hotel to revel in their experiences and adventures. In their hotels (Soplicowo being only one of the themed hotels in the region), they continue with their mythic imaginations. (Blavascunas, 2009: 69) Blavascunas argues that such trips can be seen both as tourist and as “exercises in nation building” by allowing the exploration of internal and unexplored frontiers of one’s own country. In Blavascunas’ words: They are taming the ‘wild’ borderland, in effect. Ethnic Poles are replacing the peripheral status of this borderland by visiting it to see the small patch of primeval nature and to be in the Polish memory of the kresy. Those geographical imaginings are very much a part of the ambivalent
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project of Europe-making at Poland’s scale of the kresy, which wishes on the one hand to bring Belarus into the sphere of ‘democratic’ Europe (Polish style), while wanting it to remain ‘other’ so that urban Poles can occupy a positive identity by comparison. (Blavascunas, 2009: 70) Blavascunas argued that in the case of the Bialowieza Forest, things European and things Belarusian have an ability to “command the present and future space of the borderland while neglecting explicit attention to the ethnohistorical and class histories.” (Blavascunas, 2009: 71). This observation seems of particular relevance from the point of view of the problem of redefinition of critical theory in peripheral contexts of Central and Eastern Europe. It could be read as a proof of the overwhelming power of the orientalist East–West symbolic opposition, which becomes dominant over other symbolic dimensions of interpretation of social structures. In effect, all major values such as progress, emancipation or development and most others, in a peripheral setting of Central and Eastern Europe appear to be translated into a symbolic (sometimes also physical) movement from East to West. What is also interesting, as far as Blavascunas’ findings are concerned, is that images of peripheral social worlds produced by the educated intelligentsia, in particular by its representatives, who are only visiting or have recently settled in particular regions, are much more influential than those produced by locals. As she writes, “the images most salient for determining the meaning of the border are a mixture of those circulated by conservationists and Polish tourists rather than those of foresters and the tutejszy” (Blavascunas, 2009: 71). In another paper, Eunice . Blavascunas reconstructed the way Białowieza Forest and the local population are perceived by biologists and nature-protection activists operating in the region (Blavascunas, 2010). In particular she found that they: claimed that the region’s ethnic Belarusian minority overidentified with the former Communist system ( … ) The local minority population was seen by biologists as historically conditioned to accept authoritarian power and thus forester’s control over the forest (i.e. logging). Such attitudes emphasized the moral superiority of biologists as they connected themselves with science and forest protection, with democracy and pristine nature. ( … ) What is significant about the history of biologists in this case is that ecological consciousness arose not as an anti-capitalist movement, as it did in many other parts of Europe, the U.S., Canada and elsewhere, but as an anti-communist movement. ( … ) in Poland, many biologists and nature activists felt that they were still fighting communism. (Blavascunas, 2010: 5–6) Conservationists, interviewed by Blavascunas, referred to what they called a “psychological post-communist syndrome” which allegedly included “Russification” of the local population and “possessing a cultural weakness
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for authoritarianism, support of corrupt politics in the forest and the dictatorship in Belarus” (Blavascunas, 2010: 16). One could note that the above . observations concern a very specific area of the Białowieza Forest near Białystok and, moreover, relations between small social groups in that region, such as conservationists and foresters. Nevertheless, they show well how deeply embedded, intertwined are the basic schemes of the symbolic cleavages of the eastern borderland of Poland and, more generally, of entire Central and Eastern Europe. In particular, they demonstrate how the old Kresy myth of the borderland may get adapted to new realities and, specifically, how it may get reinforced by market forces. Despite its historical character (reference to the Polish presence on these territories in the pre-Soviet period), when the East–West/past–future axis is concerned, Kresy appears on the “future” side, while all things identified as “Russian”, “Soviet” or “post-Soviet” remain relegated to the side of the “past” and of backwardness.
Lublin Another interesting case of adaptation of new identity programs to the pressures of the new regionalism and to the invisible pressures of orientalism is Lublin. Lublin, with approximately 350 thousand inhabitants, is the largest town in eastern Poland. In contrast to Białystok, it lacks significant cultural diversity and has never been located on an ethnic or religious borderland as Białystok has. Still, until the outbreak of the Second World War, the city had a considerable Jewish community and, until the outbreak of the First World War, it was a regional administrative center of the Russian Empire, which attracted a considerable Russian-speaking population to the town. Today, the multicultural image of Lublin is almost entirely based on projects for revival of the historical heritage of the city, in which its Jewish past plays a central role. As far as the idea of the east is concerned in Lublin, we are dealing with two principal strategies of its accommodation. The first strategy includes rejection of the city’s eastness and dominated until recently. For many in Lublin, its region is located in Central Poland. Its eastness is a very relative and, as some would argue, recent characteristic. As Tomasz Dostatni noted, in the inter-war period, Lublin’s voivodship was the only province in Poland without any direct contact with the state-border (Kokowski, 2012). It could be thus seen as the most central region of the country. Others argue that Lublin can be considered “a typical Polish town” which is still a common self-perception in the region. On the other hand, a redefinition of Lublin as a “gate to the east” or an “east-west bridge” has begun relatively recently. Its development has been linked in particular to Lublin’s participation in the contest “European Capital of Culture 2016”. The “gate” idea of Lublin is best presented in a text, signed by the former mayor of Lublin, Adam Wasilewski. As Wasilewski argued: Lublin is the city that symbolizes the European idea of integration, the universal heritage of democracy and tolerance, and the idea of dialogue
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between cultures of the West and the East. Lublin is a unique place where cultures and religions meet. Here, the East meets the West, and the European Union meets Belarus and Ukraine. It is a perfect place of cooperation for European artists living within and outside the European Union. (Lublin, 2011c) In other texts signed by Wasilewski, but which might have been influenced or . even penned by Krzysztof Czyzewski, several classic motifs of the new borderland paradigm are clearly revealed. First, they include a reference to the classic narrative of the liberal vision of Poland’s history. The dark communist past is seen as a source of all misfortune that befell the town. Second, the binary division of the past is followed by a spatial distinction between Western Europe as the source of all positive impulses and the post-Soviet east as the source of problems and threats. Wasilewski writes in particular: From the time of the victory of democracy in Poland and the end of the cold war in 1989, Lublin is trying to overcome the hurdles which emerged in the years of isolation and disrespect. This task is not made easier by the geopolitical conditions, in particular by the protraction of the political crisis and impoverishment in neighboring Ukraine as well as by the authoritarian rule in Belarus. (Wasilewski, 2010: 45) To show how simplified a version of Lublin’s history this is, one could just note that around the year 1999 Lublin’s population started to slowly decrease, which happened for the first time since the end of the Second World War. Nevertheless, Wasilewski writes about the town’s “unprecedented growth” (Wasilewski, 2010: 49) and argues that awarding Lublin with the title of “European Capital of Culture 2016” would be a form of “redress” for the injustices of the communist past as well as “an incentive for the city for defense and confident manifestation of its position as a European hub, in the past and in the present” (Wasilewski, 2010: 45). Interestingly, the idea of Lublin as a “European hub” is mostly described in terms of cultural projects and events, rather than in economic or political dimensions. In any case, the marginalization of Lublin certainly goes back in time to the communist period, although the closure of the eastern border by the Schengen agreement could be seen as an important factor deepening that effect. Paweł Laufer admits that the general image of Lublin was, at least until recently, very negative and fit classical orientalist stereotypes. Lublin was commonly considered by its inhabitants as “a hole somewhere in the east” or “a non-existing place”. Incidentally, non-existence is a theme which can be related to the motif in Belarusian liberal narratives of Belarus as a field of “emptiness”, “absence” or “non-existence”. Laufer, as well as several other Lublin intellectuals, writes about a paralyzing complex of inferiority which was simultaneously lined with Lublin’s rejection of the east and its uncritical fascination with the West.
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Thus, in recent years, a project related to “using” Lublin’s eastern location appeared. It gained its momentum with the idea of submitting an application for the “European Capital of Culture 2016” contest and, later, with organizing the Congress of Culture of the Eastern Partnership in Lublin in 2011. The key . person behind both initiatives was Krzysztof Czyzewski, who chaired the . program boards of both. Czyzewski seems to be the author of the “bridge” identity adopted in both initiatives and later declared an official brand for Lublin. The Lublin “bridge” identity, as a classical new borderland identity, is based on the idea of mobilization of the region’s “hidden energies” and on the assumption that it is possible to “release” a considerable social potential, supposedly hidden in the city, by means of activating intercultural contacts both across the political border, as well as within local communities. One . could be impressed by Krzysztof Czyzewski’s ability to redefine the role of the closed Polish border as an incentive for developing closer contacts with Belarusian and Ukrainian neighbors. As he writes: Lublin is a borderland, for good and bad it is assigned to the East, which can be felt at every step – in architecture, in the mentality of its inhabitants, in their spirituality. Cooperation with such cities as Lviv or Brest develops here with an undeniable vigor, while the proximity of the Schengen border only increases the need of its constant and multimodal crossing. . (Czyzewski, 2009: 70–71) At the same time, Wasilewski paints a vision of Lublin as a meeting place for Westerners and Easterners. As he argues, “Lublin inspires the creative class of the West to travel to the East, while inspiring our Eastern partners from beyond of the Schengen zone towards crossing the border in Western direction.” (Wasilewski, 2010: 49). Interestingly, also in the field of the Polish–Ukrainian interaction, its official history is now divided into two periods. On the one hand, we have the communist period of the “false brotherhood of nations” and, on the other hand, the contemporary period of “genuine” mutual interest and independent cooperation between the West and the East. However, even in the communist past, a positive trail is noted. It is the heritage of Jacek Kuron´, a famous Polish dissident, who was the patron of “true” cultural exchanges such as “weeks of Ukrainian culture” initiatives, organized by the students of the Catholic University of Lublin at the end of the 1980s. These initiatives supposedly prepared the Ukrainians for the democratic breakthrough in Europe . (Wasilewski, 2010). Against this background, Czyzewski’s idea is to develop a dense stream of exchanges between Lublin and regional cultural centers in neighboring countries, in particular in Ukraine. One of the most symbolic events of that program was a happening planned for the inauguration of the “Cultural Capital of Europe” year in Lublin. It was supposed to involve a symbolic abduction of Europe, performed on Lublin’s marketplace. The final
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application, submitted by the town, described it in the following way: “Lublin wants to abduct Europe to the east, reminding it about our common civilizational roots and referring to social solidarity, which is one of the fundamental European values.” (Lublin, 2011b). This idea can be seen as a reference to the old idea of Poland as a Western Europe’s guide to the east. Poles in this narrative present themselves as members of the Western European civilizational community, but, at the same time, are linked to the east and are sensitive to its cultural and spiritual values. Thus, the spectacle proposed by Lublin, was supposed to involve a marriage between both sides of Europe: During a wonderful feast the marriage of East and West will take place. It will be witnessed by the heirs of the Byzantine-Slavic traditions, by creators from Latin countries of the West, by whom the former are fascinated, and by all those building bridges between the two civilizations. By committing this abduction, Lublin will bring the European Union and Eastern Europe closer, it will present its wonderful spiritual traditions and its enormous present potential for cultural cooperation, it will mitigate the fears and prejudices on both sides of the border, and it will bewitch the West with original artistic visions. It will revive the old, always existing longing towards the East in the soul of ‘Old Europe’ and it will become her partner in satisfying that thirst. (Lublin, 2011b) Lublin is thus aspiring to the role of a meeting place for the West and the East, in the context of which both sides are defined mostly in terms of ancient . religious traditions. Czyzewski refers to the myth of eastern spiritual enlightenment (Ex Orient Lux) and the fascination of Eastern Christianity with Western culture. A symbol of the contact between these two Christian blocs is the Saint Trinity Chapel in the Lublin castle. The Catholic Chapel is filled with Orthodox painting commissioned by the Polish–Lithuanian king Wła. dysław Jagiełło. Czyzewski interprets the Castel Chapel as a “living evidence of a cultural transgression: Byzantine interior (the soul of the Orient) enclosed in a Gothic structure (Occident’s shell)” (Lublin, 2011b). In effect, the Chapel, and in particular its paintings become key iconic elements in Lublin’s new branding campaigns, conducted under the slogans of “Lublin – an unearthly climate” (Lublin. Nieziemski klimat), which refers to the spiritual dimension of its identity, and “Lublin a city of inspiration”. Thus, just as in the case of Białystok’s religious traditions, the heritage of past and the vision of future interactions between representatives of Eastern and Western Christianity play an important role in the new borderland pro. gram. Czyzewski actively refers to the heritage of the First Rzeczpospolita and, more specifically, to the signing of the Polish–Lithuanian Union of . Lublin, which took place in 1569. Interestingly, Czyzewski actively reinterprets the meaning of that event for his purposes. Normally, such reference could be seen as a reference to the conservative paradigm or even to the
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Kresy myth and therefore, as one that insists on the unity of the Polish and . Lithuanian past. Aware of these associations, Czyzewski points to the fact . that the central square of Lublin is called ‘Lithuanian’. Czyzewski interprets it as a civic but not national reference. As he argues: it commemorates the inhabitants of the Great Duchy of Lithuania, people of diverse languages and religions, who in this place have signed the act of the Union of Lublin, a brave federative project, which is today rightly considered as a precursor to the creation of the European Union. . (Czyzewski, 2009: 69) . One could conclude here that Czyzewski recognized the legitimacy of the universal character of the Rzeczpospolita heritage. This may illustrate the relative character of the difference between the conservative and the liberal reading of Poland’s history. In several instances, liberal narratives may incorporate in their interpretations historical themes, which are usually seen as typical elements of conservative narratives. At the same time, liberal interpretations will insist on the need to ensure that contemporary identity projects, even if referring to traditional narratives, have an open, dialogic character. Thus, as we can see, the distinction between “liberal” and “conservative” uses of historical references may be considerably relative and its delimitation may require particular symbolic power. In Lublin’s official documents related to the new identity program, the historical heritage, in particular that of Kresy, is referred to, on several occasions, as a past which should be seen in many aspects as a hindrance to trans-cultural interactions, a past which should be actively dealt with and rectified. This is most visible in a text concerning the Congress of Culture of the Eastern Partnership Program in Lublin. Adam Wasilewski, in particular, argued that: Since the beginning of the Eastern Partnership, voices expressing concern were emerging, in particular those arguing that it can be a new form of ‘colonization’ of the East by the Rzeczpospolita. Irrespectively of how irrational such fears would look to us, we have to be aware that they refer to the historical domination of Poland on these territories, to the legacy of assimilation of elites of neighboring nations into Polish culture, and to often paternalistic attitude, to cultural swaggering coupled with dim knowledge of the languages and cultures of the eastern neighbors. (Wasilewski, 2010: 54) In other words, as in the typical new borderlands identity programs, the process of building the new identity of Lublin is presented as a task that faces the inhabitants of the region. This task is particularly defined in terms of the self-reflexive redefinition of their visions of the past. As Wasileski wrote: Starting with ourselves, we understand that Poles have to summon up critical self-reflection and overcome the Kresy myth, which has been
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perceived by our neighbors as imperial and hostile to their national emancipatory aspirations. We have to replace it with a myth of borderlands, which is one of partnership, and which incarnates in our tradition, going back several ages, what is called today an inter-cultural dialogue. ( … ) Our Eastern neighbors, who are currently separated from Europe by the Schengen line, are in fact a true European test for the inhabitants of Lublin and the Lublin region. They increasingly realize that, in the present situation, it is the East which makes them contemporary Europeans, since such [Eastern] is their identity, their manner of functioning in the European Union, their transnational horizon and a field of struggle with their own historical resentment, their complex, converted into competence, their individual development strategy and their own voice, heard in European metropolises. (Wasilewski, 2010: 54) . Krzysztof Czyzewski presented the challenges facing Lublin in a very similar way: In other words, Polish membership in the Eastern Partnership should be based on releasing the potential of regions and cities of the borderland. The Polish complex of eastern inferiority should transform itself into an eastern competence. ( … ) Also from Poland’s side, its presence is followed by a shadow’s trail – the memory of ethnic, religious and class conflicts, [of] deportations to farther eastern [regions] and ‘repatriations’ to the West, [of] loss of properties and extirpation. [While] building fundaments of a new policy of neighborhood, it is difficult to pretend that we are not aware of this legacy of difficult and painful issues inherited from our history. Starting from themselves, Poles should afford a critical historical reflection and overcome the Kresy myth, which is seen by their neighbors as imperial and hostile to their national emancipatory aspirations. They should replace it with a myth of borderland, one which is based on partnership and [which] incarnates in our common tradition of several ages what is called an intercultural dialogue in contemporary Europe. Much has been already made in this field, in particular thanks to the circles of the Paris based Kultura. However, we would only annoy Jerzy Giedroyc´ by saying that all has been already made in this respect, and, in particular, if we would say that everything has been already made, now let’s allow others to take on the job. . (Czyzewski, 2011: 18) Here again of particular importance seems to be the reference to the Giedroyc´ doctrine, which seems to be the main legitimized mode of discussing Poland’s involvement in the East. To be sure, one could, of course, also note it as a “modern way of possessing the east” by Poland, as a discourse that replaces the old discourse of Kresy and is much different, particularly in the ways it defines the role of Poland in the region. In any case, this is a dominant liberal
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way of talking about Polish agency in the region and in reference to the region. . At the same text Czyzewski continues his reflections on the need of redefinition of the mentality of the region’s inhabitants: It may sound paradoxical, but it is the east which makes us contemporary Europeans. This is our identity, our licencia poetica in the European Union, our supranational horizon, our own field of confrontation with our resentment and historical phantasms, our inferiority complex turned into competence, our individual strategy, our voice heard in the metropolises of the West. To sum up, without breaking the complex of inferiority of eastern Poland, without overcoming the paternalistic attitude towards our eastern neighbors, and without subjective self-placement in its Europeanness, Poland and its citizens won’t be able to take part in the construction of the Eastern Partnership as a cultural project. . (Czyzewski, 2011: 19) . Characteristically, the problems of the region are presented by Czyzewski in predominately psychological terms. They are imagined as “complexes of inferiority” to overcome or a feeling of superiority towards eastern neighbors which has to be avoided. To achieve this, the region has to look up for help by professional “coaches” such as the intellectuals involved in the elaboration of the programs of new regional identity. This again reintroduces the key distinction between, on the one hand, the “non-competent” or even “backward” ordinary inhabitants of the region, supposedly still entrenched in the old complexes and fostering evil thoughts, and, on the other hand, those who have already overcome these negative features and are able to engage in a “true” dialogue with the eastern partners. Interestingly, this need of reexamination and reform of internal selves and mentalities is supposed to concern academics in the region. Wasilewski writes in particular that: The inhabitants of Lublin will be developing their understanding of the cultural diversity and complexity of Europe. This will help them in shaping their own sense of participation in the European culture. It will allow the elimination of many of the false stereotypes and prejudices between inhabitants of the West and the East, between the ‘old’ and ‘new’ Europe. (Wasilewski, 2010: 46) What is important in these texts is that they refer exclusively to the realm of psychology, or to such notions as attitudes, mentalities or culture. What is missing is the dimension of power and economic relations. After all, the modernization of universities (here, of course, under the label of “Europeization’), mentioned by Wasilewski, is hard to imagine only in terms of psychological re-training of their staff. This is however, how the prescriptions, offered by theoreticians of the new borderland identity, could be read.
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What also seems characteristic for the images of the East–West cooperation presented in the above discussed documents is that they are filled with explicit and implicit asymmetries. Projects of cooperation with Lviv are based on the idea of an exchange of Western know-how (from Lublin) for Eastern cultural and spiritual inspiration (from Lviv). In particular, the events, organized in Lublin and Lviv in the framework of the “European Capital of Culture” festivals, are supposed to “remind [that] the countries of Eastern Europe have never left the European civilizational circle” (Lublin, 2011a). At the same time, Lublin’s “know-how” of the time of candidacy for a “European Capital of Culture”, gathered during the application process, has been supposedly already transferred to Lviv, and is expected to help in working out a strategy for cultural development of the Ukrainian city. According to the above mentioned documents, Lublin also helps educate Ukrainian managers in the culture and cultural policy of the EU. At the same time, the documents delineate a plan of setting up a Center for Eastern Competence in Lublin, which would be an institution offering advice to Polish, or in some more ambitious versions, to EU organizations, interested in developing projects and looking for partners in the east. Let me remind the reader that Lublin’s application for the “European Capital of Culture 2016” contest was more successful than that of Białystok— Lublin made it to the second round and lost in the final to Wrocław, supposedly by a narrow margin of votes. As Katarzyna Sztop-Rutkowska and Maciej Białous speculated, one of the reasons for Lublin’s advantage could lie in the more advanced vision of multiculturalism it presented in its application (Sztop-Rutkowska and Białous, 2012). While in Białystok’s project the main theme was “coexistence of cultures”, Lublin’s emphasis was on “dialogue of cultures”. Indeed, this was one of the main themes of Lublin’s application. As it read: Universal, and in the same time specific, the multicultural heritage of Lublin is [of] historical value, and, in the same time, [it embodies] an idea for the development of a modern city. A city which unites people and nations, which shares its assets, learning from others, is in a constant dialogue with them. (Lublin, 2011a) One cold note that this comparison foremostly shows how much easier it is to create abstract visions of inter-cultural dialogue, interaction and cooperation in a situation where they concern places, which are in fact culturally homogenous. In such cases, they do not refer to really existing cultural diversity, but only to its past heritage which can be modeled by the intellectual elite with almost no restrictions. In cases when the contemporary social situation is characterized by diversity, the task proves to be much more difficult. Power relations between groups, tensions, stereotypes, etc. do not allow intellectuals to draw idealistic visions and prospects for dialogue so easily. In communities,
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sharing a complex history of coexistence and characterized by active tensions, it is much more difficult to pull out the cultural field from regional context and present it as an arena of free expression, detached from the mundane spheres of economic and political hierarchies and conflicts. Dialogue, or any interaction, in such context is a real challenge; it may not be easily re-organized according to intellectuals’ will and then “sold” as a “regional product” in a marketing campaign under slogans of trans-border cooperation and inter-cultural inspiration.
Rzeszów Let me now look briefly at the identity policy in the third large city of eastern Poland, that is, Rzeszów. Rzeszów, in contrast to Białystok and Lublin which were struggling to redefine their Eastness, presents the case of almost absolute rejection of eastness. This strategy is best reflected in the official marketing slogan of the city which is “Rzeszów—the capital of innovations”. In other words, the city authorities clearly want to build the city’s image as part of the West: an image of a center of dynamic growth based on highly developed technology rather than that of a city of culture and the past. One of the reasons for Rzeszów’s rejection of strategies for redefinition of its Eastness may lie in the fact that it is located in former Galicia, which allows the adoption of symbolic strategies, based on narratives of “westernness” that are linked to the legacy of the Habsburg Empire. Looking at the official discourse of the municipal authorities, references to the Habsburg era are scant. One could find a brief mention of the “early” experiences in democracy in reference to the first indirect elections in the Austro–Hungarian Empire, introduced at the turn of the twentieth century. In addition, references to the past are not numerous in Rzeszów’s official discourses, and the image of the city is not developed along the lines, visible in the cases of Białystok or Lublin. One can encounter classical statements like: “The community of Rzeszów for centuries has been a mixture of cultures and nations” (Rzeszów, 2009b), and descriptions of preserved synagogues, but there are hardly any mentions of programs for more active uses of this heritage. Most importantly, the slogan, referencing the “borderland” location of the city, is not emphasized, especially in cultural or historical terms. One can find some references to the proximity of the Ukrainian border, however, they are usually made in the context of transportation links rather than cultural contacts. Even the image of the region’s communication infrastructure is clearly presented as oriented towards the West. This is best reflected in the structure of network connections of Rzeszów’s Airport, which is a source of pride for the city as the only international airport in eastern Poland.8 The Jasionka Airport in Rzeszów has direct connections only with Warsaw and some eight airports in Western Europe. We can thus conclude a clear avoidance of cultural-capital based strategies in Rzeszów’s case. If cultural capital is used in its identity discourse, it does not refer to the past and to culture understood as art, music and literature or
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religious and ethnic traditions, but rather to the academic and mostly technical form of institutionalized cultural capital, represented by the universities of Rzeszów. Particular emphasis is given to the Rzeszów University of Technology with such departments as Mechanical Engineering and Aeronautics. This emphasis is linked to the role, which aerospace industry plays in the region through such leading Polish enterprises as WSK “PZL-Rzeszów”,9 known for production of aircraft engines. The origin of the development of the industry in the region goes back to the interwar period and is linked to the Central Industrial Region (COP) state investment program in what was then Central Poland. References to that period are, in effect, more extensive than to the earlier history of Rzeszów. Overall, however, Rzeszów is presented in official promotional campaigns predominantly as an attractive, modern and dynamically developing city, inhabited by a young, open and entrepreneurial population. The town hall even invested in the production of a music clip by the Belgian singer Danzel. Danzel’s clip What is life? proudly presented on the town hall’s official web site, was shot in Rzeszów, but has no references to Polish culture or the past of the region (Rzeszów, 2009a). At the same time, the web-site boasts Rzeszów’s successful application for EU structural funds. The town is presented as having the highest per-capita subsidy from the EU in Poland. However, no mention can be found of the development of the city’s economic base due to its location in eastern Poland. This can be interpreted as a strategy of one-sided orientation towards the West, and of almost full rejection of eastness. One of the reasons for that phenomenon could be found in the relatively tense Polish–Ukrainian relations in the region. While, on the state-level, the Polish–Ukrainian dialogue develops in an overall constructive mode, on the regional and local level, it is characterized by several tense and protracted conflicts such as, for example, the conflicts between Ukrainian and Polish communities in Przemys´l. In Rzeszów, no Ukrainian minority plays any public role, but there is a strong memory of the bloody Polish–Ukrainian clashes during the Second World War and just after its formal end. The Ukrainian UPA guerilla has a particularly negative image in the private memory of numerous communities in the region. Although no mention of the Polish– Ukrainian clashes is to be found in the official discourse of the history of . Rzeszów, a number of publications have appeared in recent years (e.g. Daraz, 2006). One of the results of this negatively charged emotional memory is the very restricted dialogue with Ukrainian partners. In particular, Rzeszów’s city council broke off the contacts with its Lviv counterpart after a series of acts that aimed to commemorate UPA fighters as heroes of Ukraine. As mentioned above, authorities prefer not to refer to these controversial issues in promotional discourses. As a result, this period of the town’s history is not directly used. The entire self-image of the city is constructed on its successful integration into the modern economic space of the European Union rather than on its “eastern-connections” as was the case with Białystok or Lublin.
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Notes 1 In my earlier paper, I presented a more detailed comparison of contemporary stereotypes of former partition zones, including the mechanisms of orientalization which are present in their discourses (Zarycki, 2007). 2 I am avoiding here the notion of ethnicity, which in the Polish context is considered as an identity of much lower level than that of national identity. One can also note that Belarusians or Ukrainians in Poland are legally defined as “national minorities” in contrast to “ethnic minorities” which are usually identified with “weaker” groups like Romani people or Lemkos. 3 Interview by the author in Białystok (4 February 2011). 4 Interview by the author in Białystok (10 February 2011). 5 Interview with the author in Białystok (11 February 2011). 6 Interview with the author in Białystok (3 March 2011). 7 Interview with the author in Białystok (11 February 2011). 8 Since its opening in late 2012, Lublin’s airport is the second international airport in Eastern Poland. 9 The company set up in 1937 since 2002 belongs to the United Technologies Corporation, an American multinational conglomerate.
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Belarussian, Lithuanian and Ukrainian reactions to Polish discourses on the East
In this chapter I would like to look briefly at the region called in this book “zone two” that is countries located between Central Europe (zone one) and Russia, which is labeled here as part of a wider zone three. I will not attempt to present any systematic review of what could be called ideologies of Eastness that have developed in this vast area spanning from Estonia in the north to Ukraine and Moldova in the south. Instead, I will try to present a selective analysis of relations between Polish ideologies of Eastness, in particular those referring to that very region, and Polish fields of power and their discourses, specifically of countries which are sharing a common historical heritage with Poland: Belarus, Lithuania and the Ukraine. Let me start with a concise review of the structures of the fields of power of the countries of the region. As I mentioned in the introductory part of the book, the zone two region can be perceived as a double or interface periphery. It remains at the nexus of influence of the Western European core and Russia. The balance of these two principal forces may look different in particular countries. While in Belarus, the Russian influence prevails. In Lithuania, the Western core currently dominates, although, in specific domains (e.g. popular culture, financial services, energy, etc.), these proportions may look quite different. These two major overlapping forces produce three basic types of political camps in countries of zone two. First, the peripheral camp of conservatives or “nationalists” challenges both Western (in particular in its liberal form) and Russian domination. Second, the liberal camp is a counterpart of the Euroenthusiastic camp of zone one. Third, there is a pro-Russian camp, which could also be marked with post- or neo-Soviet/communist labels. This camp has gradually decreased in zone one (Central Europe) since the transfer of that region from the sphere of Soviet/Russian influences to the periphery of the Western core. In Russia, or zone three, the third camp can be identified with the ruling neo-Soviet center of power. Let us return now to zone two and configurations of the three key camps in particular countries of the zone. The post-communist camp in Lithuania has undergone liberalization in a way similar to that of Poland’s former communists. In effect, it has transformed itself into largely pro-Western social-democratic
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group and is largely integrated with the mainstream liberal sector. The opposition between the liberal and nationalistic camps is crucial. The pro-Russian post-communist camp in Belarus is the dominant one. On the other hand, pro-Western liberals and nationalists are marginalized in Belarus and form a wide and diverse, but weak, oppositional force. All three options in the Ukraine can be considered as relatively well developed. The pro-Russian postcommunist camp dominates in the East of the country, while the nationalconservatives have their stronghold in the Western part of the country. The liberal camp, just as in Poland, gains most of its support in the metropolitan areas of the central and western parts of the Ukraine. In all countries of zone two, Polish actors tend to have best relations with liberal camps. Given the alliances between liberals and national-conservatives in Belarus and Ukraine, and their predominately Russia-critical stance, Poles tend to have the best relations with these wider coalitions. As far as the intellectual field is concerned, the liberals are, in all cases, the closest collaborators of Polish institutions. These institutions and their liberal discourses are most often promoted, their voices translated and quoted in the Polish intellectual field. Zone two liberals are seen in Poland as the most legitimate representatives of their countries, just as Poland’s liberals are considered to be the most representative of Poland by Western actors. Idealized images of these countries are largely formed under the influence of liberal discourses, while narratives of both the conservative and pro-Russian camps are marginalized. The narratives of the pro-Russian camp are, in fact, mostly demonized and rejected by both sides of Poland’s political spectrum. An important difference between Poland’s liberals and conservatives, as far as the perception of the political scene of the countries of zone two is concerned, lies in the way the conservatives (or “nationalists”) of the region are presented. Although most Polish actors tend to view zone two conservatives critically, Poland’s liberals tend to minimize the threat they pose. Zone two conservatives are recognized as nationalists by Polish liberals, but not seen as the dominant actors of the countries of the zone two. Poland’s liberals argue, in addition, that active European policy may allow liberals of zone two to achieve a dominant position and, in this way, build partnerships between countries in question. They also, optimistically, try to look for liberal and pro-European aspects of conservative discourses of zone two. Poland’s conservatives, on the other hand, tend to demonize zone two conservatives and present them as dominant actors in countries of the region. Moreover, they tend to look for nationalistic aspects of discourses of zone two liberals and present them as hidden nationalists or as those playing the role of fig leaves. The approach of Poland’s conservatives is pessimistic. They usually assume that no single fully trustful partner for Poland can be found in zone two. This does not mean that most of Poland’s conservatives are not pragmatic. They are, in fact, often open to cooperation with zone two partners, but the way they perceive their eastern (zone two) partners is much more restrained than that of Poland’s liberals, who often enthusiastically embrace their partnerships with
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liberal counterparts. What unites both Polish camps, as far as their eastern policies are concerned, is the conviction that Poland’s top priority is to push Russia out of the entire area of zone two. This perception of the region of zone two as an area of Polish–Russian confrontation has deep historical roots and is linked to the role that Russia has played and continues to play in modern Polish national identity. The role I discussed in detail elsewhere (Zarycki, 2004), that of the key negative other, is well inscribed in the fundamental orientalist frame of perception of Eastern Europe in Western nodal discourses. Such a perception of Russia is strongly linked to the two doxas discussed earlier in this book. First, it is related to the dependence doxa, as it does not permit us to see the Polish-Russian contest as an aspect of wider geopolitical tension between the Western core and its relatively autonomous peripheral actor, Russia. Polish actors sometimes do recognize the fact that they are confronting Russia as representatives of Western Europe. They restrict, however, this role of symbolic representation of the West and the call for cultural Europeanization of zone two and possibly zone three (Russia itself). What they are hardly able to recognize, given the strength of the dependency doxa, is the role they play in securing the economic and political interests of Western actors in zone two. The problem of the perception of zone two by Polish actors is also linked to the intelligentsia doxa, because of their inability to see the economic dimension of the contest over zone two. Polish perceptions built on the intelligentsia framework are inherently culturalistic. Almost the entire Polish discourse about the region is focused on culture and role of cultural or intellectual elites. Tensions between Poland and countries of the region are imagined as mostly cultural tensions. These tensions pertain primarily to symbolic aspects of nation building policies, while economic aspects are often marginalized. Some observers link the differences in Polish attitudes to Poland’s Eastern neighbors to a historical division of Poland’s political scene in the inter-war period. The main cleavage of the Second Republic was best symbolized by the conflict between Józef Piłsudski’s and Roman Dmowski’s visions of Poland, the two intelligentsia leaders and architects of the new state. The former vision of Poland, as Ilia Prizel (Prizel, 1998) demonstrated, was based on the idea of a federation of countries located between Russia and Germany. This federation would act as a power in common to restrain imperialistic ambitions of Russia. Piłsudski’s program had several phases of development. Later, a number of other political manifestos were built on it, using its ideas in diverse ways. The common feature of these manifestos was the idea of setting up a confederation of small and middle-size nations in the region and the rejection of Polish ambitions to impose its classic nation-state structure on other nationalities. The Piłsudski model was thus based on a form of what we could call today multiculturalism. The Dmowski model, on the other hand, was based on an overt call to construct a Polish-nation state. Its specific feature was the idea of using Catholicism as a major tool of cultural unification, which was clearly different
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from the classic secular Western nation state. Dmowski called for the assimilation of minorities and opposed extending Poland’s borders too far East, out of limits of the territories inhabited by a majority of ethnic Poles. During the inter-war period, there was a gradual move from Piłsudski’s federal model to Dmowski’s nation-state model. Among the reasons for this evolution was an inability of the Polish state to implement Piłsudski’s geopolitical project of a Polish-led federation. Dmowski’s model of the Polish nation state was, thus, privileged in the late Second Republic. It was also undertaken in a considerably altered form by Communist Poland, this time, however, without offering any positive role for the Catholic Church. Nevertheless, after the fall of communism, Piłsudski’s heritage appeared as the most widely recognized and as a positive legacy. Piłsudski’s paradigm of Poland’s eastern policy has, however, since then been redefined. First of all, it has been adapted to Poland’s much less ambitious goals. Its most influential reengineering has been proposed by the Paris-based Kultura journal editors, namely the editors-in-chief—Jerzy Giedrojc´ and Juliusz Mieroszewski—the emblematic intelligentsia figures. As mentioned earlier, these editors advanced a program of reconciliation in the early 1970s between non-communist Polish circles and the national elites of Ukraine, Lithuania and Belarus. Most importantly, this program included a call for the unconditional recognition of the post-war borders of Poland. This implied acceptance for Lviv and Vilnius belonging, respectively, to Ukraine and Lithuania. A program, later called the Giedroyc´ Doctrine, with time became accepted by the major part of anti-communist forces, which, until the fall of communism, would not challenge Soviet domination over the entirety of zone two. After the fall of communism, the Giedroyc´ Doctrine become one of the backbones of Polish foreign policy doctrine and has, since, been endorsed by former anti-communists. A good example of the doctrines was the public praise expressed by Aleksander Kwas´niewski as Poland’s president for Gierdoyc´, Kultura and its ideas. This allegiance to Giedroyc´’s ideas led Kwas´niewski to actively take part in Polish support for the Orange Revolution in the Ukraine and express support for the pro-Western Ukrainian camp. For liberals, the Gierdoyc´ Doctrine has provided optimal legitimization for Poland’s eastern foreign policy, which can now be framed in the language of “universal democratic values” and good relations with the three countries neighboring Poland. The Gierdroyc´ doctrine has been also recognized by most Polish conservatives as heirs of the anti-communist movement. The conservatives approach to the Giedroyc´ Doctine is, however, much more restrained. It is seen by many as an act of scarification of principles, “historical truth” and, above all else, the interests of Poland. Particularly controversial for conservatives was the turning of a blind eye to the massacre of Poles by Ukrainian nationalists during the Second World War, in particular, in the massacre at Volhynia in 1943. Let me quote, as examples of this critique, conservative-oriented scholars such as Bogumił Grott and Czesław Partacz. Partacz argued that the doctrine was “naïve” and manifested a hypocritical character of the Polish eastern policy.
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He also argued that the whole idea is based on “false assumptions” from a historical and geopolitical point of view, thus he calls it “ahistorical and antiPolish” (Grott, 2007: 27). Grott argued that the adoption of the Giedroyc´ doctrine was an act of surrender from the Polish side. The national elites of the three countries profited from it, but Poland mostly lost out. Polish minorities rights were not respected and Polish heritage, has, at best, not been protected. Moreover, as he argued, it did not make Poland’s neighbors good friends. We could compare the current dispute over the Gieroyc´ doctrine to the earlier Piłsudski-Dmowski conflict. The whole debate was redefined after the fall of communism from the problem of direct involvement of Poland in the region to the question of foreign policy towards countries whose independence is now unconditionally recognized by Poland. The relative difference between the two camps is, however, similar. Thus, while the Piłsudski’s strategy, just like contemporary liberal policy, has been oriented towards a universalistic rhetoric of cooperation, integration and common democratic values, the Dmowski’s strategy, as a contemporary conservative approach, leans towards a rhetoric of defense of Polish interests and, in particular, calls for the protection of Polish cultural heritage and Polish minorities in the region. As mentioned in previous chapters, the conservatives, in their symbolic policies, tend to rely on the Kresy discourse, which is usually rejected by the elites of the countries of zone two. It is not difficult to point to several orientalist elements in the conservative discourses on zone two. Nations in the region sometimes appear in conservative discourses to be particularly nationalistic. The political systems and civil societies of Poland’s eastern neighbors appear backwards and underdeveloped, while many politicians are presented as posing a threat to Polish interests and Polish minorities in the east. In contrast, the liberal approach, with its enthusiastic embracement of the Giedroyc´ Doctrine, is generally free of such overt orientalist rhetoric. However, some element of orientalism may be found here as well, even if in a more nuanced form. Poland’s eastern neighbors are usually imagined as friendly, equal partners, but recognition of their friendly status is, in fact, conditioned by an assumption of their key role in weakening Russia’s influences in the region, which is implicitly recognized as the main threat to Poland’s existence. Additionally, they are usually imagined as being on a road towards Europe, one on which Poland is already much more advanced and, in effect, can serve as a teacher and patron. Interestingly, one of the key characteristics of the discourse of Polish liberals towards the region of zone two is what could be called a “minimization of the distance” between Polish culture and heritage and the national cultures of the countries of the region. Thus, for example, Marek Ziółkowski, former Polish ambassador to Ukraine, called the Orange Revolution a “strong emotional and political buckle linking Poland and contemporary Ukraine in a strategic partnership” (Ziółkowski, 2008: 12). Robert Kostro, director of the
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Museum of History of Poland, also uses the historical narrative to minimize the distance between Poles and Lithuanians. As he argues: Whenever we are in Warsaw, in Vilnius, in Lviv or Kraków, at every step we encounter material traces of the old Rzeczpospolita. In the interpersonal contact we have a very similar mentality, similar customs, cuisine, we often use the same words. Going to Vilnius, we do not feel like in foreign country. We do not realize, how recently the paths of our nations diverged. Still in the January uprising of 1863 Poles were fighting shoulder to shoulder with Lithuanians, Ukrainians and Jews. Our common history counts four hundred years, while the dramatic split has happened only hundred years ago. (Kostro, 2012: 2) This view may be shared by part of the liberals of zone two. For instance, Nelly Bekus argues that the European version of Belarussianness has a strong historical basis: “The history of the Belarussian lands within the GDL and Commonwealth provides enough possibilities for the design of a national idea around the European concept” (Bekus, 2011: 147). This attitude may be criticized as a hidden strategy for possession of the former Kresy, and such critiques, in fact, do appear. The very idea of minimizing the cultural distance between Poland and what can be seen as its former colonies may be seen as an attempt to control the region; an act of hidden symbolic domination. What would be most desirable from the point of view of the liberal and conservative actors in zone two would be an assumption by Poles of a non-historical discourse of Western values unrelated to the Polish heritage of the region. This is what many of the liberal and more radically left-liberal Poles are, in fact, trying to do. An example of this can be seen in the book by Jan Sowa who discusses this in his chapter on the Kresy discourse (Sowa, 2011). However, even such strategies may appear problematic. One reason may be that Poles, in the role of interpreters of Western discourse, may not appear Western enough to their eastern partners. This problem has arisen in an interesting critique of Ryszard Kapus´cin´ski’s travelogue on Russia Imperium (Kapus´cin´ski, 1994). The critique, advanced by Maxim Waldstein (Waldstein, 2002), accused Kapus´cin´ski of orientalism towards Russia and, at the same time, argued that Kapus´cin´ski, while travelling through the collapsing Soviet Empire, assumed the identity of a Westerner. In this way, Kapus´cin´ski allegedly was largely silent about his own history of relations with the Soviet Union, as well as his close links between Polish and Russian cultures, both of which can be seen as Eastern European cultures. Waldstein suggested that Kapus´cin´ski belongs to a category of “Poles-turned-Anglo-Saxons”, that is Poles pretending to play the role of Westerners completely distant from Eastern Europe. Waldstein argued that Poles cannot assume such a position legitimately, as they belong to Eastern Europe and should not distance themselves from Russia, as they often tend to do. These accusations can be seen as an aspect
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of a wider dilemma facing Poles dealing with Eastern Europe. On the one hand, Poles emphasize a Polish–Eastern European common heritage, which can be criticized as an attempt to re-Polonize zone two countries. On the other hand, a stress on Western universalist discourses may make Polish actors appear to not be fully legitimate. Thus, in a radical variant, any attempt to build representations of the region by Poles may be dismissed as illegitimate. Such a radical decoupling of the region from Poland has been, in fact, attempted by Soviet authorities. This is reflected in official Soviet historiography of the region, which has largely been cleansed from its historical links with Poland. As Leonid Zashkilniak points out, this trend of ignoring Poland in historiography has been inherited by modern textbooks of the countries of zone two, which, in their negative portrayal of Poland, are very similar to their Soviet predecessors (Zashkilniak, 2007). The First Rzeczpospolita’s period, in these textbooks, is usually presented as a period of occupation, during which Polish noblemen exploited Ukrainian peasants. Zaszkilniak notes that Poland is usually presented as a unitary actor, opposed to an equally consolidated Ukrainian nation. Zenonas Norkus concludes, from a Lithuanian perspective, that Polish imperialism in Lithuanian historical literature is often referred to as ‘hegemonism’ and ‘expansionism’, in contrast to Lithuanian imperialism, which is imagined as more peaceful (Norkus, 2007: 34). Belarusian historiography, as Olga Gorbacheva argues, sees interwar Poland as a colonial power economically exploiting Belarusian lands and imposing its brutal nationalizing policies on them (Gorbaczewa, 2007). The adoption of the old Soviet paradigm of “Polish occupation” during the inter-war period is, in fact, widespread in all countries of zone two. As Natalia Jakovenko argues, Soviet historiography has called all non-Russian presence on Ukrainian lands “occupation”, “aggression”, “exploitation” or “colonial oppression”. The influx of German settlers, which was the driving force for the medieval process of urbanization in the region, is often presented as a deliberate anti-Ukrainian Polish policy. In Jakovenko’s view, the contemporary Ukrainian historiography, when not using Soviet approaches, largely relies on nineteenth century idealistic visions of Ukrainian history. The basis of these approaches reflects a model of existence based on fundamental difference between Ukrainians and Poles. The Polish and Ukrainian nations are presented as absolutely separate organisms, unrelated in any dimension and mostly conflicted (Jakowenko, 2010: 423). In this Soviet model we not only see a solid wall separating Poland from zone two, but also elements of the separation of Poland from the “true West”. Natalia Jakovenko introduces, in this context, the image of “bifurcated West”, which describes the way the Polish ruled over present day Ukrainian territories in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The period of the Polish rule is composed, on the one hand of a “progressive Western Europe from where new cultural trends flow to the Ukraine”, and, on the other hand as a “feudal and reactionary Poland”, which is trying its hardest to stop these tendencies (Jakowenko, 2010: 403). In effect, Poland is presented as alien to Ukraine but also as a not
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fully Western. Even more often than being mentioned as an oppressor, however, Poland is simply ignored in much of the history textbooks of zone two. Leonid Zashkilniak reports that Ukrainian history textbooks contain more information about the history of the United States, United Kingdom or France than about the history of Poland (Zaszkilniak, 2007). According to Alvydas Nikz˘ entaitis, Poland’s history is largely ignored in Lithuanian school curricula (Nikz˘ entaitis, 2007: 129). Nikz˘ entaitis also argues that the interwar Lithuanian historians focused on Western rather than Eastern influences on Lithuania. Their notion of the West, however, usually excluded Poland (Nikz˘ entaitis, 2007: 130). Poland, in such narratives inherited from the Soviet period, is “leapt over” in the symbolic game. A reflection of this mechanism can be seen not only in the historiographic discourse but also in the contemporary discourse of social sciences in zone two. Thus, for example, Lithuanian sociologist Ingrida Gec˘ iene (Gec˘ iene, 2005) characteristically refers to several Polish authors, but only to their English publications. The problems of the intellectuals and the intelligentsias in post-communist countries are discussed by Gec˘ iene without any references to specificity of particular countries, their historical heritage, or power-relations. Even more straightforward attitudes can be found in the political discourse. Ke¸stutis K. Girnius presented, for example, the following argument: I’m absolutely positive that Lithuania can manage without Poland. If Andrius Kubilius (the Prime Minister of Lithuania) is right and attempts to modernize the economy of Lithuania, develop IT, and create a knowledge-based society [it] will be made, obvious, that we have to cooperate with the Scandinavians, not the Poles. Poland is basically on the same level in the field of modern technologies as Lithuania. (Editor, 2011) One could thus speculate that the Poland’s Eastern neighbors are aware of the country’s relatively weak position both in relation to Western Europe and, at the same time, to Russia. This awareness allows them to ignore its weak position and, even at times, to orientalize Poland despite its relatively more Western location and usual higher status in international hierarchies of power. This also translates into altered everyday relations between Poles and Lithuanians. A Polish activist from Lithuania, Adam Chajewski, has been complaining about Lithuanians sneering at the non-sophisticated ways of Poles. (Chajewski, 2011: 108). Iwona Kabzin´ska recounted the complaints of a Polish women from Vilnius who was shocked that, while visiting Poland, she was called “Ruska” that is Russian in a derogatory form. As she argued, Poles do not have any reasons to feel better than Lithuanians: There is even more east in Poland than in the east. More boorishness, anger, rude service in shops ( … ) People in Lithuania are more open
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towards the West ( … ) for them in Poland there is east, not the west ( … ) Lithuanians are richer than Poles ( … ) there is no such thievery in Lithuania as there is in Poland ( … ) there is not so much of divorces, adultery, such debauchery ( … ) in Poland people are focused on themselves. (Kabzin´ska, 2011: 15) In general, this way of perceiving Poland as non-Western or non-fully Western is unacceptable for most Poles, but may appear all over zone two and three. This strategy may be seen as a very specific form of orientalization, by actors who feel orientalized themselves. Let me now return to the Gierdroyc´ Doctrine and Polish liberal discourses towards zone two countries. As I have pointed out, despite their idealistic assumptions, these discourses happen to be met with criticism in countries of the region. One of the key reasons for this is probably the fact that the Polish liberal discourse remains to be embedded in the classical Polish national narrative, which, despite attempts at universalization and acquisition of European character, is framed in terms of the Polish interpretation of history and based on the key Polish doxas. Rejection of the liberal discourse may be compared to the widespread rejection of Józef Piłsudski and his doctrine in the countries of the region. While in Poland, Piłsudski was (and continues to posthumously be) presented as one of the greatest friends of Belarus, Lithuania and Ukraine, the mainstream historiographies of these countries usually present him in a rather negative light. Józef Mackiewicz was one of the early authors to point out this apparent paradox (Mackiewicz, 2009). Mackiewicz and several others, in particular conservative critics, point to the fact that idealist Polish doctrines backfired; these doctrines happened to be perceived as more imperialist in the countries of the region than those advanced by Polish conservatives. Among such critics is Zbigniew Kurcz (Kurcz, 2005), who called the Giedroyc´ Doctrine a typical myth. As he argued, when it was moved from the realm of political imagination to the realm of political practice it became problematic. As with any myth, the Giedroyc´ myth was, according to Kurcz, “irrational”: It was at the same time an illusion and an attempt at rationalization. Its main aim was not attained, namely the foundation of a Central European federation. Instead most nations started searches for their individual solutions. (Kurcz, 2005: 379) This, as Kurcz argues, intensified the East–West split, and increased interethnic tensions in the region. For Kurcz, the doctrine was, as all myths, effective in the mobilization of forces contesting the status-quo (that is, Soviet domination over the region), but it did not produce sufficient resources to achieve the expected end results. As Kurcz argued, the Giedroyc´ myth was orientalistic because it presented Russia as the key danger. The myth also
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involved arguments of the “incompleteness” of Russian history (lack of a Renaissance or a revolution equivalent to the French Revolution). At the same time, the myth’s main intention is to detach the whole zone two area from Russia. As Kurcz argues, the Western states were not interested in such a bottom-up unification of Central and Eastern Europe (Kurcz, 2005: 389). Instead, the Western states were trying to regain their previous influence and play on the expectations of particular governments and societies of the CentralEastern peripheries of the European continent. Kurcz has also advanced a critique of contemporary Polish liberal discourses on the countries of zone two. In his view, their idealism may be seen as a dangerous tendency. This leads to ignoring important problems, in particular ethnic tensions, which may spiral out of control. Kurcz argued that: As far as the fashion for alleviating, softening and eradication of the national question is concerned, in its new form of EU as a rational community, it is supposed to lose its importance or become outdated. In effect inter-ethnic tensions became more difficult to study for researchers. The fashion for European universalism and visions of harmonious future order resulted in a situation in which even most radical inter-ethnic conflicts are given just a scant attention, or the public opinion is simply not informed about them. However, when these conflicts are finally revealed, than the leaders of the communities involved in them are presented as old-fashioned, rowdy, or in a more academic terms labeled as nationalists, xenophobes, heirs of fascists or communists. Such an image emerges from the mainstream journals and weeklies remaining under the influence of the forces of progress. In contrast the lower-print run periodicals of the nationally-oriented circles are carefully studying all phases and dimensions of conflicts, not ignoring the concomitant judgments and emotions. (Kurcz, 2005: 397) Kurcz’s critique concerning the silencing of ethnic tensions by liberal media is echoed by other authors dealing with the wider region of Central and Eastern Europe. The problems of Poles in Germany, as Kazimierz Wóycicki and Waldemar Czachur note, for example, are almost exclusively reported and discussed in conservative and extreme right media (Wóycicki and Czachur, 2009: 101). When looking at the liberals of zone two, we find a number of commonalities between them and their Polish counterparts. While both Central European liberal intellectuals and intellectuals of zone two countries may be equally fascinated with the Western core, the enthusiasm of the former usually has deeper roots. This is due to the fact that the gradual fall of the status of communist and Marxist ideology started earlier in Central Europe. As a result, countries of zone two often exhibit the phenomenon of sudden “replacement” of ideologies of the communist period by new Western-origin
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concepts, including concepts such as multiculturalism and post-colonialism. Elena Gapova has observed these processes in Belarus: Through epistemological Westernization the empty spaces formed after the withdrawal of Marxist-Leninist theory were filled up with new intellectual content and diverse methodologies. The positivist ‘class struggle’ as the main focus of academic interest was replaced by other forms of inquiry in which culture, subjectivity, or sexuality started playing a prominent role. The Belarusian intellectual journal Arche, which proclaimed the saturation of the Belarusian intellectual market with global cultural treasures, is a good example of this broad trend. A glimpse at the journal’s table of contents reveals that every issue contains three types of texts. First, there are translations of works by twentieth century Western thinkers and writers (e.g. Walter Benjamin, Edward Said, or Milan Kundera) into the Belarusian language. Second, there are articles by the members of Belarusian diaspora on problematic issues in national history (e.g. nationalist organizations under the Nazis during World War II). And, third, there are texts by Belarusian academics and essayists who analyze contemporary issues using new theories and approaches. (Gapova, 2009: 281) As mentioned above, one of the approaches actively adopted by zone two liberals includes the usage of Western ideologies of multiculturalism, which are, in many aspects, compatible with borderland identity projects discussed in reference to zone one. A good place to look for several manifestations of these tendencies is the city of Lviv, where multiculturalism forms part of an official program of city authorities. The Lviv identity program has both liberal and conservative components. The liberal component entails a view of the identity of Western Galicia as European, based on the heritage of the nineteenth century Austrian past in the region. As Luiza Bialasiewicz noted, such uses of the Austrian past may be seen as contradictory. As she argues: The adoption of the Hapsburg myth within the post-communist states is in many ways paradoxical in its expressions. On the one hand ( … ), imperial belonging has been adopted by national state elites as a marker of ‘European-ness’ and thus distinction against an obviously nonEuropean ‘other’. On the other hand, however, the Hapsburg myth (or, better yet, its current popular reappraisals) is based within an idealization of multicultural and multinational diversity and inclusion, envisioned as fundamental ‘European’ values. This paradox speaks to a fundamental paradox inherent to the European project itself and one that has been raised in recent months by scholars such as Ralf Dahrendorf, Jürgen Habermas and Claus Offe in the debates surrounding the nature of a future ‘European citizenship’. How to reconcile a necessary delimitation of the boundaries (political, symbolic and territorial) of European
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The paradoxes discussed by Bialasiewicz are characteristic of most of the liberal identity discourses in Central and Eastern Europe. While, on the one hand, all of them are designed as inclusive and pluralistic, on the other hand they may be seen as building an implicit opposition between the West, which they aspire to represent, and the East, as the significant other. Thus, the liberal programs of identity politics in zone two are clearly using a strategy of rejection of Eastness, which is, in most cases, identified with things Soviet and Russian. At the same time, the Soviet project of Ukrainian identity based on the peasant motives has been replaced in the Western Ukraine by liberals with an urban model. It involves “Ukrainization” of a comparable part of nonUkrainian cultural heritage in the region of Galicia. It includes Austrian, Polish and Jewish heritage, as well as elements of other cultural influences, which can be traced back to Lviv. That program implies a clear rejection of the role of Russian culture and an attempt to symbolically transfer Lviv from the realm of Eastern Europe to that of Western Europe. Mykola Riabchuk, for example, writes in his book Two Ukraines (Riabczuk, 2004) that: “inhabitants of Galicia, in cultural terms, identify themselves more with Vienna and Kraków than with Moscow and St. Petersbourg” (Riabczuk, 2004: 178). This strategy of imagining Galicia and Lviv as virtual islands of Westness in the Central-Eastern European ocean of “Eastness” (through a definition of the region as a product of Austrian Westernization understood as modernization) implies several controversies. First, the Austrian–Hungarian Empire is not an ideal model of modernity for all. For Ukrainian liberals, just as for their Polish counterparts, however, it is the essence of modernity. Moreover, in its most balanced form, it is also seen as a precursor of the ideals of multiculturalism that avoid the excessive ideologies of the nation state. What some critics remind us of is that the Austrian–Hungarian model proved to be very inefficient and its state construction collapsed during the Great War without many regretting it. Moreover, it is often forgotten that Galicia, both within contemporary Central and Eastern Europe and within the Austrian–Hungarian Monarchy, was (and continues to be) a distant periphery with a relatively low level of development and low symbolic status. As Martin Pollack writes: Even back then, the German-speaking Austrians were irritated, and carried a certain level of distrust towards the easterners. Anybody who could afford it then, would choose a vacation in the Austrian mountains, at the Austrian sea or at least the Austrian lakes but not in Bohmen (this is what the Czech Republic was called back then) or in the flatland of today’s Hungary. And God forbid a journey to Galicia. (Pollack, 2011: 13)
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Mick Christoph reminds, on the other hand, about the silencing of brutal repressions against Ukrainians accused of being Russian spies during the Great War. Thousands were executed and tens of thousands were imprisoned in Austria (Christoph, 2012). What we observe among liberals and conservatives in the Ukraine could, therefore, be called strategies of self-Westernization, which in most cases appears not only similar to but synergic with Polish orientalism. As a result these strategies are partially recognized in Poland. Most Polish actors agree with Ukrainian liberals and conservatives that Western Ukraine is in fact much more Western (i.e. it belongs to a higher civilization), but specific forms of interpretation of that superiority may differ. Poles, in particular, emphasize the role of Polish heritage, while marginalizing the role of other cultures in the Westernization of Western Ukraine, also understood as its modernization. Several Austrian intellectuals seem to represent attitudes analogous to those of the Polish about Western Ukraine. There is, in fact, an interesting debate concerning the extent to which the Ukraine can claim the right to present itself as a legitimate heir of the Austrian legacy—understood as both modern and European. Richard Wagner (Wagner, 2008) argued in particular that: Because the Habsburg “model of success” is invoked today as part of the Ukraine makeover campaign in an attempt to generate an aura of belonging. ( … ) Although Ukrainians had demographic clout in the Eastern region, they had almost no hand in structuring modernization. The Poles had urban cultural hegemony and the semi-urban small town milieu was dominated by the Jewish shtetl ( … ). The population of Galicia was largely dependent on subsidies from the centre of the empire. ( … ) All number of famous names might have emerged from Galicia but they left soon thereafter to carve out careers in Central Europe. They were Jewish without exception and seeped in German or Polish culture. ( … ) Today’s Western Ukraine is the result of the totalitarian land clearance project and is equipped with a healthy dose of Ukrainian assertiveness ( … ) When the old Austria is vaunted across East Central Europe today, we should not forget that all the peoples who invoke the name were instrumental in bringing down the Habsburg empire. Not least the Ukrainians of Galicia, its political and cultural elite. They blocked their own path to Europe with this act of destruction. (Wagner, 2008) Martin Pollack (Pollack, 2008) criticized Wagner, who, as Pollack argued, invokes his veto on the grounds that historical Galicia is overwhelmingly shaped by Polish and Jewish influences, whereas the Ukrainians only played a marginal, primarily cultural, role in its development. Pollack argued in particular:
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Reactions to Polish discourses on the East On the subject of Austria: as an amused Richard Wagner claims, Old Austria is today lauded all over Eastern Central Europe as an early model of the EU, even by those peoples who were instrumental in bringing down the Hapsburg Empire. Among them are also the Ukrainians, whose political and cultural elite, according to Wagner ‘blocked their own path to Europe with this act of destruction’. Even aside from the questionable argumentation that the destruction of the Hapsburg Empire should justify this belated retribution, we should ask why it is only being leveled against Ukrainians. What about the Czechs, the Hungarians, and the Italians. Were they not much more active in the fall of the Dual Monarchy, thus blocking their path to Europe? Surely nobody would claim such a thing. (Pollack, 2008)
As far as the Polish context is concerned, liberals will tend to be relatively tolerant of Ukrainian attempts to redefine Western Ukraine’s Europeanness through Austrian heritage and other non-Polish heritages. On the other hand, Polish conservatives will tend to insist on the centrality of the Polish role in the Europeanization of Ukraine and protest against what they see as Ukrainians marginalizing the role of the Polish past in the region. Leszek Mazepa, a Polish professor at the Lviv conservatory criticizes, for example, Ukrainian discourses that argue that the entire Lviv heritage of the nineteenth and beginning of twentieth century was built by and thanks to the Austrians. “Poles and Ukrainians ‘owe’ to Austrians at best establishment of several institutions and governing of the country according to the ‘rule and divide’ (in particular divide) principle” (Mazepa, 2011: 14). As Mazepa argues, this a strategy aimed at minimizing the role of Poles in the history of the city and its Polish heritage (Mazepa, 2011: 14). Mazepa also criticizes the idealization of Austria and the Ukrainization of such Polish figures related to Lviv as the writer Stanisław Lem or the mathematician Stefan Banach. As Ola Hnatiuk recalls, for example, Bogumiła Berdychowska criticized Andrukhovych for writing about multi-cultural Lviv while not even mentioning the Polish past of the city (Hnatiuk, 2003: 211). One could note that this insistence on Polishness of the historical figures of the region is a practice contradictory to the earlier mentioned strategy of “minimization of distance” between Polish culture and those of its neighbors promoted by the liberals. Such a confusion between strategies of integration of the “common” past and insistence on national specificity seem unavoidable. For all Polish actors recognition of the role of Polish culture in the Europeanization of zone two is of key importance. In effect, the question of how much the modernization of the region, in particular that of Western Ukraine, can be historically seen as a consequence of Polonization (or mediated through Polish culture) appears highly contested. Yaroslav Hrytsak provides arguments for both interpretations. Until 1917 Polish nationalism was the strongest in the region. At the turn of the twentieth century Ukrainians had no choice but to respond to Polish
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nationalism by building their identities in the same categories as Poles (Hrycak, 2009b: 175). Moreover, as Hrytsak argues, the Polish presence allowed Ukrainians to identify themselves in European categories (Hrycak, 2009b: 195). Igor Shevchenko argues that the Polish presence gave the Ukrainians the possibility to use achievements of Western civilization, including the experience of the Renaissance, that would otherwise be inaccessible to them (Shevchenko, 2006: 52). Shevchenko writes that the presence of the Ukraine in the structures of the First Rzeczpospolita allowed Ukrainians to participate in the life of a non-centralized state in which individual freedoms were recognized (Shevchenko, 2006: 53). Authors that prescribe to these interpretations are welcomed in Poland. They reinforce one of the key ambitions of modern Polish identity: the universalist potential of the heritage of the First Rzeczpospollita, which is currently claimed by the intelligentsia as one of its key symbolic resources. However, intellectuals like Hrytsak do not always provide interpretations which are welcomed in Poland, in particular when they privilege Austria over Poland in the process of the Europeanization of Western Ukraine or Eastern Galicia. The explicit discussion of the processes of transformation of the region in terms of Polish–Austrian competition is not fully compatible with dominant Polish discourses. In particular, as Hrystak notes, in the mid-nineteenth century Lviv was divided between the German (“Schiller”) and Polish (“Mickiewicz”) “parties”: At the end of the century, the Polish party prevailed. The reason for the success of the Polish national movement was, among other, in its romantic character and democratic program. Even the local Ukrainians and Jews were falling under its charm. Polish nationalism has played a role in the history of Eastern Europe which is more or less equal to the role of French nationalism in Western Europe: other nations followed it, and borrowed from its ready ideological and political formulas. (Hrycak, 2009a: 248) This interpretation, while very flattering to the ears of the Polish intelligentsia, in particular, by reinforcing the image of its culture as having a strong universalist potential, is not fully compatible with contemporary Polish discourses on Galicia. This is largely because the history of the region at the turn of the nineteenth and the twentieth century is mostly imagined as a peaceful coexistence or even a cooperation of ethnic communities in the multicultural Austrian-empire. The role of the Austrian state is imagined as largely positive; Austrians are seen as actively constructing Polish civic culture, one which was later inherited by the Second and even Third (present day) Rzeczpospolita. Let me quote here two characteristic examples of such interpretations. Kazimierz Sowa argued, for example, that Poles in Galicia who were forced to cohabitate with other nationalities learned “political cooperation with other nations and national compromise” (Sowa, 2000: 161–62). Andrzej Bukowski, in turn, argued that the myth of Galicia is better suited to “building the identity of the
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region on the basis of universal values which are linked with the modern influences of the Habsburg Monarchy” (Bukowski, 2011: 209). These visions of late Galicia’s history are, in fact, very similar to the versions presented by Ukrainian and Polish liberals. The difference is that, in the Polish image, the Poles are imagined as crucial intermediaries between “civilized” Austrians and “backward” Ukrainians. The dominant Ukrainian vision of the history of the region, however, minimizes the role of the Polish middleman and opts for the direct Austrian role in the process of modernization and Europeanization of Ukrainians. Let me note how culturalistic these visions are. Interactions among Austrian, Polish and Ukrainian actors are presented almost entirely in cultural terms, while their economic and political dimensions are largely silenced. Nevertheless, Jaroslav Hrytsak points out not only the competitive nature of Polish–Austrian relations, but also their economic and political aspects. Austrian acceptance of the re-Polonization of Galicia, in particular, was a result of a weakened central power in Austria after its wars with Italy and Prussia. Interestingly, while nineteenth century interaction between Poles and the Austrian state is presently imagined in Polish discourses as a mostly peaceful cooperation (with strong elements of modernization coming from the Austrian state), Polish–Russian relations during the same period are imagined almost exclusively in confrontational terms. The Russian state is imagined as oppressive and Polish–Russian interaction is confrontational and periodically violent. Russia, of course, is never seen as an engine of modernization in Polish lands, in contrast to the Austrian and the Prussian states at the turn of the twentieth century. As I have mentioned in previous chapters, one can speculate that such a one-sided view of the period is, to a large extent, a projection of current relations between Poland and its historically powerful neighbors (Germany, Austria and Russia) as well as a reflection of the positions of these countries in the global hierarchy of the world system. One has to be aware, that besides the liberals, conservatives are also important actors in zone two countries, in particular in Lithuania and Western Ukraine. The fall of communism lead to a revival of nation-state building programs, which made actual political development in these countries and regions (as far as memory and identity policies are concerned) at times quite far from liberal ideals. This is particularly visible in Western Galicia, where the process of the reconstruction of the Ukrainian state after 1991 has largely taken place under control of nationally-oriented conservatives. Eleonora Narvselius reconstructs the process of the nationalization of the symbolic space of Lviv, noting that this process can be seen, paradoxically, as marked by a decrease in cultural diversity which is reflected in patterns of changes of street names: Remarkably, however, the names of the poets Alexander Pushkin and Mikhail Lermontov, who are very important for the Russian-speaking population, especially for intelligentsia, were erased. Moreover, Lermontov’s street was replaced by that of the Chechen leader Dzokhar Dudaev. The
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second largest group of non-Ukrainian names was Polish ones, whose number was doubled because of a partial restoration of the pre-1939 names. Some old Jewish street names were restored as well. ‘Nostalgia’ for Austro-Hungarian times was not reflected in the new names of the streets, although some Hapsburg names were suggested. Remarkably, world-famous ‘transcultural’ personalities connected to Galicia, such as the writers Leopold von Sacher Masoch, Joseph Roth and Bruno Schulz, were also denied inclusion into the officially defined public space of the city. Notably, the number of streets bearing names of famous persons known the world over decreased drastically after 1990, and that is certainly not by chance. (Narvselius, 2009: 271) Narvselius’ observations are confirmed by those by Tamara Zlobina who notes: The official image of Lviv is strongly influenced by the Ukrainian nationalist doctrine. At the beginning of the 1990s most streets were renamed; in some cases they received pre-Soviet names but mainly their new names were dedicated to Ukrainian national heroes and crucial events in Ukrainian history. New city administration followed the Soviet administration scheme: renaming streets, destroying Soviet monuments, installing new monuments and memorable tables, organizing celebrations. Semiotics of the city space was completely changed according to the main goal of presenting Lviv as a city of strong national identity. Lviv is one of the biggest Ukrainian-speaking cities in Ukraine. (Zlobina, 2007: 88) Despite the strong nationalist normalization of the symbolic space of Lviv, which reflects a much broader political tendency and ascension to power of the conservative faction of the Ukrainian intelligentsia, the image of Lviv as a multicultural city has been promoted at the same time. Such an “open” identity of the city was and still is advertised by the liberal milieus and more conservative factions, both of whom would like to see Ukrainization of the city as tantamount to its Westernization and internalization. An analogical process can be observed in many other places in post-communist Europe. Poland, in particular in its conservative regions, provides many examples of nationalization of symbolic spaces, which are, at the same time, presented as instances of Westernization and internationalization. These transformations can be seen as a competition between diverse models of multi-culturalism and internationalization. On the one hand, there is the old Soviet model, one which largely lost legitimization in late 1980s. On the other hand, there are two major versions of a new triumphant multiculturalism: a Western-oriented liberal one and a national-conservative one. Tamara Zlobina describes the rise of conservative internationalization in Lviv with a strong dose of skepticism. She writes:
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Reactions to Polish discourses on the East The image of the Soviet city was enthusiastically replaced to celebrate ancient heritage and false multiculturalism of the city. I called this kind of multiculturalism ‘false’ because of its depending on history. The contemporary ethnic configuration of Lviv’s population (Ukrainians, Russians, small assimilated communities of Poles, Jews, and Armenians) was ignored and the historical configuration (Poles, Jews, Armenians, Ukrainians) was proclaimed to be important. The myth about multiculturalism together with the Austro-Hungarian nostalgia seems to be a favorite with Lviv’s intellectuals. They are trying to spread it onto reality. From my point of view, Lviv’s intellectuals supported the multicultural city heritage because of the aggressive privatization and incorrect reconstruction of the historical downtown and also because of mere Ukrainization changes in the semiotics of the cityscape in the 1990s. This helpful attempt at protection of historical heritage had some encouraging results but also damaged the feelings of belonging and identity of thousands of people who used to live in post-Soviet residential districts. Special attention given to a certain (Austro-Hungarian) period of the city’s past resulted in the neglect of the existing social problems and cultural practices, for example, transformation of Soviet industrial areas into commercial and trade centers and specific culture of the so called sleeping districts. (Zlobina, 2007: 88)
Yaroslav Hrytsak argues that Lviv is a convincing example of the downfall of the idea of multiculturalism in this part of Europe (Hrycak, 2009a: 263). Hrytsak recognizes that, if multiculturalism is defined according to Andrzej Walicki as a situation when the dominant group is not subordinating other cultures, such a situation is very rare in the history of Lviv (Hrycak, 2005: 31). Hrytsak as quoted by Eleonora Narvselius (2009: 273–74) also argues that the “history of Galicia may be imagined as the history of multiculturality, which had many chances to win, but which lost in the last account. Civil solidarity and cooperation between Galicianers seldom overcame religious, social, ethnic, and later on national barriers”. Hrytsak also admits that the present state of affairs is not comforting. “In fact, we are afraid of multiculturality because we cannot manage it, we cannot digest it.” (Narvselius, 2009: 273). Many other liberal critiques of Western Ukrainian conservatives see their policies as far from any form of multiculturalism. Delphine Bechtel argues, for example, that the current symbolic policies in Lviv exclude its nonUkrainian past: Polish, Jewish and Russian-Soviet. Most Soviet monuments, she reminds us, were dismantled in Lviv just as in the Baltic States. Russians who had streets named after them in Lviv have had their names replaced by heroes of UPA, which occupies a central place in Ukrainian suffering, in particular in Hlodomor. Another important dimension in which similar policies can be observed is the educational system. Most Russian schools in Western Ukraine, according to Bechtel, have been closed which shows how arbitrary
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the distinction between multiculturalism and cultural domination may be (Bechtel, 2012). What is happening in the Ukraine, as I have mentioned above, may, in fact, be seen in terms of a contest between multiculturalisms and a redefinition of multiculturalism. The region, in particular the city of Lviv, is a contested space of two principal (Ukrainian and Russian) and several other (including Polish as well as Austrian) national cultures and their languages, each aspiring to be a dominant vehicle of internationalization and a central frame of multiculturalism. This contest of universalisms in the region is very visible in the uses of post-colonial theory by local intellectuals. Mykola Riabchuk is one of the best known Ukrainian intellectuals whose work refers to post-colonial theory. In a recently published collection of essays entitled The Post-Colonial Syndrome (Riabchuk, 2011), Riabchuk presents a comprehensive model of the application of post-colonial theory to contemporary Ukraine. Interestingly, Riabchuk’s critique of the Russian-speaking Ukrainians mirrors the conservative critique of liberals in Poland, in particular in forms represented by texts of Zdzisław Krasnode¸bski. As Riabchuk argues, the Russian-speaking population of Ukraine is manifesting its contempt for everything Ukrainian and tries to imitate everything Russian. At the same time, the Russian speakers imagine Ukrainians as little-educated peasants. Russians, however, dislike the educated Ukrainians even more than the simple peasants for trying to prove that an alternative—a non-Russified Ukrainian elite—is possible. In this way, educated Ukrainians challenge the standards of “normalcy” defined by Russian speakers. They intensify the inferiority complex of the “collaborators”—that is Russian speakers. Here Riabchuk sees the roots of the hatred towards the Ukrainian speaking elite of the Western Ukraine, which is often presented as extremely nationalistic. Riabchuk proposes the use of racial metaphors to relate the situation in the Ukraine to colonial models. What he suggests is that the Ukrainian language is the equivalent of black skin, and thus considered as inferior by Russian speakers. “Black” Ukrainian is in this way contrasted with “white” Russian. While speakers of Russian contend that the domination of the Russian language is an effect of “natural” historical process, Riabchuk argues that it is an “artificial” result of social and political engineering. He reminds us that the dominance of Russian in Kyiv is a relatively new phenomenon and, up until the mid-nineteenth century, Polish was the language of the street. Riabchuk suggests this was also a product of “artificial mechanisms” rather than “natural historical logic”. The two main camps of the Ukrainian field of power are called by Riabchuk “aborigines” (the Ukrainian-speaking native population) and the “creoles”. The former are supporters of the construction of a Ukrainian political nation, which is envisaged according to old Western norms. The latter are supporters of what Riabchuk calls the creole nation project, similar to the nation building process that took place in previous ages in both the Americas and Australia. The first project is one of post-colonial emancipation and revival, while the other is one of protection of colonial domination and the prevention any of national revival that could challenge colonial hegemony. The ideals of the “friendship
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of nations” and “eternal brotherhood” are, to Riabchuk, false Soviet ideals hypocritically hiding Russian domination. As he suggests, a purely Soviet understanding of “bilingualism” dominates in the Ukraine. It may be identified with a laissez faire approach, in which everyone speaks as he or she wishes. This approach is supported by the “creole” camp, which, according to Riabchuk, dominates in public administration, business and secret services. The creole (Russian-speaking) camp uses its economic and political position to reinforce the current linguistic situation in the Ukraine (Riabchuk, 2011). The confrontation between these two multiculturalisms can be related to the confrontation between two elites of the field of power: a Russian-oriented intelligentsia that predominates in the Eastern Ukraine and the other a Western-oriented intelligentsia that currently dominates in former Galicia. The latter, In particular, seems to be quite efficient in imposing, what I earlier called the intelligentsia doxa, on images of the region. As Tamara Zlobina notes, for example, the liberal intelligentsia of Lviv blames the “peasant” population of the town, which settled in it during the Soviet era, for demolishing of ancient buildings, traditions and urban culture” (Zlobina, 2007: 88). This “barbarian” behavior of the masses was also linked to the peasants’ Sovietization and Russification. Such a radical assignment of blame for any weakness in the social, political or economic systems rooted in Soviet heritage and Russian cultural influences seems to resonate very well with the ideologies of Eastness of both Polish liberals and conservatives. The rejection of any Russian influences as harmful and the definition of Russia as the key significant other seem to be a firm basis for cooperation between Polish and Western-oriented Ukrainian intellectuals. This allows them to overcome many incompatibilities in their outlooks that could otherwise prove insurmountable. This perception of Russia as the eternal oppressor and unwanted hegemon manifests itself in a wide range of discourses—from those of meta-historical character to observations of everyday life. As Vasilius Safronovas argues, Russia is presented, in mainstream Lithuanian historical narratives, as the main culprit and eternal oppressor of Lithuania. The argument is intended to emphasize Lithauania’s “Westness” (Safronovas, 2009). This is also confirmed by a typical application of post-colonial theory to other countries in zone two, where Russia is usually the main if not the only hegemon. A good example of this interpretation of post-colonial theory in zone two countries is a collection of essays of post-colonial literary studies from the Baltic States edited by Violeta Kelertas (Kelertas, 2006). All the studies in the volume share the same assumption of Russia as the only colonial power in the Baltics. The prevailing critical approach to Russian influences in the discourse of conservative and liberal intellectuals in the region manifests in diverse ways. Yaroslav Hrytsak, for example, voiced his dislike of the fact that Russian popular music is very popular among so many of the inhabitants of Lviv (Hrycak, 2009a: 262). Lithuanian intellectuals also often express their concerns about the popularity of Russian popular culture. Such a perception of Russia as a threat and competitor seems to be related to a similar attitude of the Polish intelligentsia,
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which I referred to earlier in this book as the dependence doxa. A focus on supposed or real Russian hegemony makes dependence of the entire region on the West almost invisible. Let me quote in this context a very characteristic interpretation of Riabchuk, who analyzed the sources of his own humiliation during the application process for a Western visa: I was born on the inappropriate side of the border and I was belonging to a lower human breed. In the eyes of the West part of the common responsibility was lying on me for the fact that my country for some two hundred years have been suffering from degeneration in the Russian Empire and for the next seventy years degeneration under the rule of Bolsheviks, not without a tacit consent of the West. (Riabczuk, 2010: 118) The humiliating treatment Riabchuk was given at a Western consulate was seen by him as a clear result of the oppression of his native country, first by the hegemonic Russian Empire and later by the Soviet Union. An alternative interpretation could be proposed, however, in which the collapse of both the Russian Empire and the Soviet Union would be seen as resulting from the symbolic weakness of these states and the low status of the territories historically controlled by them. This type of interpretation is marginal for zone one, and could function only in parts of zone two, such as Belarus or Eastern Ukraine. However, it would have the status of legitimate interpretation in the discourse of the Russian conservative-statist camp of zone three. Nevertheless, Małgorzata Kowalska, philosopher from the University of Białystok, notes that, even in such strongly Western-oriented countries such as Poland, there exist minority groups for whom Russia is not necessarily a negative point of reference. Kowalska defines this in reference to Carl Schmitt’s vision of identity as emerging through the exclusion of the other. Kowalska argues that: In the light of the official Polish and Lithuanian political discourse, the “Other” against which not only the Polish–Lithuanian but also the Polish– Lithuanian–Belarusian–Ukrainian regional identity could be shaped, is mainly Russia. Even if we put aside the highly problematic sense of such politics in the context of globalization and, also, that of the European integration (the EU has no interest indeed in opposing itself to Russia), the problem is that this standpoint is not shared by most Belarusians or Ukrainians. It is not shared either by the prevailing part of non-Polish orthodox minorities in Poland and, we suppose, as well in Lithuania. Thus, a certain political project of regionalization is at least partially denied by social and cultural reality, by what is phenomenologically given. Moreover, it provokes the emergence of counter-projects, especially in Belarus, according to which the ‘Other’ is not Russia, but Poland and Lithuania, or the EU, or the West as such. So, nowadays, the Polish– Lithuanian–Belarusian–Ukrainian borderland, far from constituting a
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Another aspect of the dependence doxa is related to a perception of Russia as the main and only hegemon in the region. This critical orientation towards Russia and the former Soviet Union among zone two liberals and conservatives makes their discourses characteristically culturalistic in a way similar to their counterparts in Poland. Just as the economic marginalization of Eastern Poland as a result of Poland’s accession to the EU is silenced in Poland, so too is the economic dimension of the post-communist transition also often ignored by conservatives and liberals of Belarus, Lithuania and the Ukraine. In particular, the economic costs of the fall of the Soviet Union for respective countries and regions are downplayed. The city of Lviv is a very good case in point. The economic and demographic crisis in the city after 1991 has been so acute that it is even, at times, mentioned by key liberal and conservative authors. In their discourses, however, these developments are radically marginalized to make them look almost irrelevant—a minor cost worth paying for much higher ends, which include the Europeanization and democratization of the Ukraine. The rise to power of the liberal and conservative intelligentsia, at least in Western Ukraine is, implicitly, considered a positive outcome. Mykola Riabchuk notes, for example, the demographic degradation of Lviv and its economic crisis; he does not, however, link this degradation to geopolitical transformation following the Soviet collapse. In these accounts concerning the Western Ukraine, just as in Eastern Poland, the supposed cultural revival becomes compensation for economic downfall. As several liberal authors admit, the economic effects of the disintegration of the Soviet Union were particularly sharply felt in Lviv, which was an important military outpost. Besides its strategic location Lviv was a critical region from the point of view of its potential political role. Moscow policies toward that part of Ukraine clearly took into account the threat of nationally motivated unrest in the region. This resulted in relatively privileged economic development policies in the region, policies which were aimed at Russification, but, at the same time, could be seen as garnering respect from the native Ukrainian population for the Soviet modernization project. Yaroslav Hrytsak admits that Lviv was known for its factories of buses, television sets and military equipment (Hrycak, 2005: 28). After 1991 many of them were either closed completely or considerably restricted in their scale; Part of the remaining factories were sold to Western capital. Hrytsak also admits that that majority of the most capable Lviv inhabitants either left for Kyiv or emigrated abroad (Hrycak, 2009a: 245). At the same time, the development of Lviv in the post-communist period is often seen in terms of the growth of “industries of culture”. This view of Lviv is clearly similar to that of cities of Eastern Poland, such as Lublin. The economic and demographic crisis of cities in Eastern Poland (similar to the case of Lviv, consists of a large stream
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of out-migrations both to capital of the country and to the West) appears as almost irrelevant, while the post-communist period is imagined as a new era of true progress and emancipation. The backward hard industries related to the communist past are now supposedly replaced by modern and future-oriented cultural industries. Cities like Lublin or Lviv become “truly multicultural” or even “cosmopolitan”. The emphasis, in the conservative narrative, is placed on their national, that is “truly” Polish or Ukrainian, character, which was restored after the fall of communism. As I have mentioned earlier, besides the liberal and conservative camps, the pro-Russian camp is also an important player in zone two. In particular, it is a key player in Belarus and Eastern Ukraine, while it plays a weaker role in Lithuania. Although its point of view will not be shared by most Polish intellectuals, some aspects of it are similar to the views of liberal and conservative- (nationally)-oriented intellectuals of zone two who may recognize selected aspects of Soviet heritage as positive. As I have mentioned earlier, the pro-Russian camp is unique in its ability to perceive selected aspects of dependence of the entire region on the Western core. This may be related to the fact that the pro-Russian camp is equipped with its own modernization ideology, defined as an alternative to the Western model of modernization. This vision may also rely on the image of the Soviet Union as a force of modernization. Important elements of this vision include urbanization and industrialization, which were achieved during the Soviet period. Interestingly, the resistance to orientalization by the West and by liberals in that camp often goes along the lines of questioning the peasant character of Belarus and the Ukraine and emphasizing its urban and industrial (or increasingly postindustrial) character. Similarly, voices critical of the depiction of Belarus and the Ukraine as intrinsically peasant countries could also be found among the conservatives and some of the liberals. The Minsk-based intellectual Ihar Bobkov states that Belarus should not be seen in ethnic or peasant terms but in terms of Soviet industrialization, which was the main mechanism that produced contemporary Belarusian society. Many of the Belarussian intellectuals consider Russian culture to be the main carrier of modernization currents in the region. Uladzimir Lukievich, sociologist from Brest in Belarus, wrote about his native city in the following way: The city of Brest is gradually losing the external décor of a Soviet city and is becoming multicultural with a clearly dominant character of the Russian language. Nevertheless, at a closer look the Russianness is acquiescent, devoid of the well known imperial elements, respecting and subordinating itself to Europeanness. Moreover, one can risk a thesis that Russians are becoming carriers of Europeanness. (Lukiewicz, 2009: 191) Larissa Titarenko also suggests that post-Soviet Belarus is largely a modern society. According to Titarenko, bilingualism of Belarus and the domination
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of Russian is, among other reasons, a result of the “general tolerance of Belarusians” (Titarenko, 2007). At the same time Titarenko argued that “Belarusians have at last two qualities making them close to Western culture: tolerance and privatization of life” (Titarenko, 2007: 25); even if most of the traits of their mentality makes them closer to the Homo-Sovieticus model as defined by Piotr Sztompka. This contrast between liberals and the conservatives, on the one hand, and the pro-Russian camp, on the other hand, may be, among several other issues, related to competing definitions of modernity. In Russian-oriented intellectuals’ discourses modernity, defined as a direct adoption or “imitation” of Western European categories, is contrasted with a form of modernity defined as a Soviet heritage model of modernization and the current Russian model. In the Ukraine this opposition also has a clear regional dimension. The Western part of the country is predominately oriented towards the Western model, while the Eastern part of the country is oriented towards the Russian and Soviet heritage model. Yaroslav Hrytsak noted that this also translates into a contrast in opposing models of social identity. In Eastern Ukraine, social identities are predominately defined in terms of categories such as age, gender and occupation. In Western Ukraine, identities are defined primarily through national categories. While talking to a Polish journalist, Hrystak stated: For us, Ukrainians from Galicia, just like for Poles, this is difficult to comprehend (the fact that the category of national identity is secondary in Donbass). Our and your worlds are turning around nationality, national culture, because we descend from a common trunk, from the same Western-European culture. (Hrycak, 2009b: 68) In other words, Hrytsak defined the essence of Westness as a social structure dominated by cultural identities. Classic economic class hierarchies, in particular occupational identities, were seen by him as “eastern”. This can be seen as a form of orientalization of class cleavages, which are presented as backward because of their Soviet origin. One can note how contradictory this point of view is in the arguments advanced by David Ost in his seminal work The defeat of Solidarity (Ost, 2005). In Ost’s view, the political scene of Poland (dominated by cultural and national issues) was an irrational anachronism incompatible with the ideals of a Western model of civil society. As I have suggested earlier, this radical view of Polish politics could be theoretically accused of having orientalistic undertones as it ignores the cultural and historical context of Poland (Zarycki, 2009b). Hrytsak, however, presents a completely opposite view, identifying class cleavages with backwardness. This may be seen as an indication of the degree of depreciation of the Soviet modernization model among Western–Ukrainian intellectuals. When discussing the absolute depreciation of the image of Soviet rule in zone two, a certain paradoxical element is apparent. It is the role of Polish
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culture in the last decades of communism both in the region and in the entire Soviet Union, especially in what I refer to as zone two. The history of Lviv during the 1960s and 70s is an excellent example of the privileged role of that tendency. Eleonora Narvselius recounts the situation in Lviv: Mastering of Polish was a phenomenon not limited to the older Lviv population who used to live ‘under Poland’ or to the non-numerous Polish minority remaining in the city. People of different generations, professional interests, with different ethnic affiliations and belonging to different urban strata, used to learn Polish both actively and passively (when, for example, listening to Polish radio programs and watching Polish TV). Polish could be relatively easily learned by both Ukrainophones and Russophones, and in the borderline city it could be used in various contexts. Intellectual and artistic life in Poland was not so starkly regulated by the Party directives and was not suppressed to such an extent as it was on the other side of its eastern border. Therefore, the intelligentsia public used to read quite a good deal in Polish and to take in the information, especially cultural discourses, coming from Poland, in search of new, exciting, diverse—and with the rise of Solidarnos´c´—also rebellious forms and contents. According to one informant, publications from the oppositional magazine of the Polish intellectuals ‘Kultura’, passed with great precautions to Lviv by Polish acquaintances, was eagerly discussed in certain intelligentsia circles. Among the Polish literature sold openly in the ‘Druzhba’ bookstore one could find both mass-cultural genres (detective novels used to be especially popular) as well as modern classics by, for example, Camus, Kafka, Beckett and other authors whose works were not translated into Russian or Ukrainian then. (Narvselius, 2009: 201) The author Aleksandra Matiuchina writes about the popularity of Polish culture in Soviet Lviv, which was, in particular accessible through Polish TV (Matiuchina, 2005). Mykola Riabchuk also mentions, in many of his works, the high status of high Polish culture in the Ukraine during communist times. This special status, as Riabchuk asserts, was coupled with a deeply ingrained suspicion of Poles as having unclear motives. The younger generation of Ukrainian intellectuals of the 1960s and 1970s, as Riabchuk confirms, matured under the strong influence of Polish culture. Polish books could be found in any intelligentsia apartment (Riabczuk, 2003). At the current time, however, as Riabchuk admits, we are confronted with a general retreat of Polish culture in the Ukraine, in particular in its Western regions and largest towns. It is worth noting how prevalent this image of the retreat of the influence of Polish culture in the entirety of zone two is, especially among the national elites of Belarus, Lithuania and the Ukraine. This clearly took place in parallel with the fall of the Soviet Union and is incompatible with the mainstream
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narratives of both Polish liberals and conservatives. The post-communist period is, for both of them, a period of renaissance for Polishness in this area. As has been discussed in previous chapters, radical left liberals perceive the post-communist period as one of excessive Polonization in the region, one which they would rather identify normally with the notion of Kresy and its revival. For this reason, the story of the rise and fall of Polish cultural influences in the Soviet Union, which peaked during the 1960s and 1970s, is rather absent from contemporary Polish discourses. A similar radical crisis of Polish cultural presence in the region could be identified during the fall of the Russian Empire, in particular during the formation of the Soviet Union and signing of the 1921 Riga Treaty that demarcated the border between Polish and Soviet territories. While Polish culture was, in fact, the dominant high culture in most of the Western part of the Russian Empire (due to the presence of numerous groups of Polish landowners and an emerging intelligentsia in the region), the Bolshevik revolution instigated a radical crisis in that Polish economic and cultural authority. Polish owners were wiped out, Polish intelligentsia was decimated and the role of Polish culture was marginalized. Of course, none of these processes happened on the Polish side of the border during the interwar period. Yet, the story of a radical crisis of Polish presence in that wide region clearly linked to the fall of the Russian Empire is not a narrative compatible to mainstream Polish liberal or conservative discourses. Thus, it is rarely mentioned that both the fall of the Russian Empire and the Soviet Union were moments of radical restriction of Polish influence in the area. It is not often mentioned that these were moment of dramatic economic crisis, during which Poles lost most of their financial resources. Since both 1918 and 1989 are considered as the greatest moments in Polish modern history (moments of restitution of independence and triumph over evil oppressors), it is not easy to point out their negative aspects and economic costs. This may be explained by the fact that both 1918 and 1989 were moments of greater triumph for the Polish intelligentsia when the newly restored state was shaped as an intelligentsia centered-republic. The losing elites, oriented much more strongly towards economic or political capital, were dependent on the losing eastern hegemons—the Russian Empire and the Soviet Union. Given the strength of the intelligentsia and the dependence doxa, it is difficult to question the overwhelmingly positive image of these two turning points in contemporary Polish history. Of course, such an alternative view of Polish history would also contradict the dominant negative image of Russia and Soviet Union as negative points of reference for modern Polish identity.
10 Conclusions Critical theory in the Central European context
Contextualizing ideologies of Eastness My argument in this book was that an analysis of the ways in which “East” is imagined in Central and Eastern Europe has to move beyond a narrowly culturalistic focus, as is the case in many of the sociological studies. This analysis should also try to relate discursive phenomena to political and economic processes. Specifically, I have argued that particular visions of the “East” may be produced by actors who possess sufficient political and economic resources to make their specific discourses visible, attractive and effective. They also have to be located in specific sectors of wider fields of power to allow their discourses to resonate with world visions produced by these fields. At the same time, they usually have to adapt to dominant doxas, i.e. prevalent normative ideological frameworks, dominating in specific regions. As I have argued, in the region which has been the focus of this book (Central Europe designated as zone one and within it Poland) the two main doxas could include both a dependence doxa and an intelligentsia doxa. These doxas may be seen as products of the relatively low position of the region in relationship to the Western European core. They are also products of its restricted economic resources which limit the emergence of a strong economic or political elite. A stronger and relatively autonomous political elite is able to reproduce itself in Russia, however. Its broad dominant political camp is able to generate an alternative discourse of identity which partially challenges the domination of the Western core over Central and Eastern Europe. Since Russia’s relative power in economic and political terms is restricted, it is not able to generate a discourse which would be strongly attractive to external actors, although it has some followers in zone two and, of course, is the dominant discourse of zone three. Its universalist aspirations and capabilities are, in effect, restricted. I would argue that, historically, the region of Central and Eastern Europe has witnessed several attempts at generating an autonomous discourse of modernization, universalism and inclusion. One of the region’s early forms could be seen in the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth of the First Rzeczpospolita. Its heritage and universalist ideology of modernization and
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inclusion (feudal civil society) are still referred to by the conservatives of contemporary Poland. The fall of the First Rzeczpospolita could be linked to the emergence of the orientalist discourse of Enlightenment Europe which has been so penetratingly described by Larry Wolf in his seminal work Inventing Eastern Europe. The subsequent strong geopolitical actor in the region which had been able to produce relatively autonomous discourses of identity has been the Russian Empire. The translation of its political and economic strength into symbolic power was, in particular, visible in the period of the Napoleonic wars and in the last decades of the Empire’s existence, which had been marked by unprecedented rates of economic growth. The Russian culture, at that time, was a particularly attractive force. In particular, literary works of prominent Russian writers have been assigned a highly universalist status. The last instance of the existence of a relatively autonomous actor in the region was the Soviet Union at the height of its power in the 1950s and 1960s. Soviet ideology and, in effect Russian culture, appeared to have a relatively high status and a widely recognized universalist character. The communist ideology, through forms developed in the Soviet Union, was able to install itself as an alternative project of modernity. In effect, it has also been widely recognized as a discourse of inclusion and supra-national integration. After the fall of the Soviet Union the communist ideology lost that power, though Kremlin-centered actors still tend to positively evaluate parts of Soviet heritage. The history of Central and Eastern Europe can thus be seen as a history of failed attempts at the creation of an alternative pole of power being able to compete with the Western core and its discourses and ideologies. These discourses can be all seen as aspiring to the status of universalist ideologies of modernization and inclusion. All of them have had a clear national character, but, because of their universalist aspirations, they have also clearly aspired to hide or marginalize it. Given the domination of the Western core over the entirety of zone one, all of its existing identity discourses have had to face the challenge of orientalization of the entire region by dominant universalism. One of the key ways of coping with being orientalized in zone one has been to transfer the oriental stigma to more eastern neighbors—those placed “lower” in the symbolic hierarchy of European space. All major discourses of the East in zone one have to be, I would argue, in one way or another orientalistic. One could make an even bolder argument: that it is practically impossible for inhabitants of zone one not to be orientalists. As I have shown in this book, the Polish case deals with two basic types of ideologies of Eastness which can be related to the basic structure of the country’s political scene. I have termed them liberal or Euro-enthusiastic and conservative or Euro-skeptical. They have produced two ideologies of Eastness, which I see as consisting of two leading threads. The first is the (new) borderlands discourse and the second is the Kresy discourse, which can be also seen as the old borderlands discourse. Both of them had clear universalist
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aspirations, although both of them could also be seen as manifesting some aspects of orientalism. Both threads also contained elements of discourses of Polish symbolic presence (or even domination) in the east. As I have argued, both of them were also based on doxas of dependence and intelligentsia. Any tangible and widely recognized alternative to these discourses, as far as the region of Central and Eastern Europe is concerned, can currently be found in zone three and partially in zone two. This alternative is the above mentioned neo-Soviet conservative discourse, serving as the only counterdiscourse to Western domination in Central and Eastern Europe that enjoys wider interest outside of narrow academic intellectual circles. However, even that discourse, in its typical incarnations, does not attempt to challenge the majority of Western claims to universalisms. In this book I did not even try to discuss the characteristics of the Russian neo-Soviet project and its discourse, although it could be criticized on a wide number of issues. Irrespective of its weaknesses, we have to recognize it as the only alternative discourse of Central and Eastern Europe. It is also one allows us to name and partially discuss the dependence of the region on the Western core. The fact that such a discourse, with its clear flaws and linkages to specific political power camps in contemporary Russia, is the only alternative discourse of the region creates obvious challenges and dilemmas. One of these challenges is the weak autonomy of the intellectual field in Russia, evident by its proximity to the ruling political camp. This camp, itself, suffers from a weak legitimization of its political and economic status and has a strong reliance on the direct control of law-enforcement systems. A more general problem of the intellectual discourses critical of Western domination in Central and Eastern Europe is that these discourses are related to current conflicts in the fields of power of the particular countries in the region. These fields are usually divided between the camps of Euro-enthusiastic liberals and Euro-skeptical conservatives. Richard Sakwa summarized the Russian incarnation of these debates as a confrontation between “a program for the full-scale westernization of Russia, which for Russian patriots entails the obliteration of all that makes Russia distinctively Russia, or some sort of alternative patriotic project which, when accompanied by Sonderweg aspirations, threatens to turn into yet another developmental blind alley accompanied by xenophobia and authoritarianism” (Sakwa, 2011: 8). Sakwa argued that assuming a distanced position towards these confrontations of radically proWestern and radically anti-European ideologies is not an easy task. In this context, he also criticized Western political science for what he has called a missing “sustained sense of critique”. As he argued, “the Russian double bottom exposes the elements of pseudo-scientism in some of the West’s social science. It even appears often that the more elaborate the methodology, the more puny and trivial the findings.” (Sakwa, 2011: 9). This situations seems to reflect a more general dilemma of sociological analysis, in particular for that of critical sociology, understood as a quest for unveiling implicit mechanism of domination and “examining the foundations – both the explicit
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and the implicit and the normative and descriptive – of the research programs of professional sociology” (Burawoy, 2005b: 10). As I argue here, any images of societies are generated within the framework of wider discourses produced in specific contexts. These contexts can be imagined as the fields of power of particular states, which are producing frames of politically “thinkable” models of the social world (in particular its geopolitical structures). These fields of power are characterized by specific structures, which can be described in terms of cleavages that define the main legitimate ways of imagining social relations. Thus, fields of power can be seen as producing recognized modes of discourse and organizing the logic of distribution of not only symbolic, but also political and economic resources. Moreover, fields of power reflect the external dependencies of particular countries which are of key importance for peripheral states. It could be said that the peripheral status of specific societies is strongly manifested in the structures of their fields of power. The language of sociological (and more generally social science) analysis is also highly dependent on these general discoursive frames. These frames are legitimized by networks of political, economic and cultural interests and by the assets of particular actors (including academics), which can be analyzed in terms of their locations in structures generated by fields of power. In effect, discourses of sociological analysis, and intellectual discourses more generally, only have a restricted ability to name and critically expose key mechanisms behind their own production. These restrictions, or areas of limited penetration of particular discourses, can be called, with reference to Bourdieu, doxas. In the case of Poland, this can include what has been called the intelligentsia doxa and the dependence doxa. To be able to discern these doxas we need to resort to external discourses legitimized by other respective fields of power and their assets. For the countries of Central Europe, or zone one (as they have been called in this book), such alternatives are provided by the discourses of the Western core, in particular the discourses of Western European critical theory linked to the left sector of Western fields of power. These alternatives also include discourses of the Russian field of power, in particular its dominant sector build around the Kremlin and its power base. In this book, the Western alternative was primarily chosen, which is reflected in the choice of key academic literature. At the same time, the author is aware that neither general nor critical Western discourses can provide an optimal, neutral framework for analysis of the societies of Central and Eastern Europe and their identity discourses. While providing inspiring and effective tools of critical self-reflection, in particular allowing the analysis of structures of Western domination and modes of control over peripheries, these discourses have certain limits that cannot be overcome. These limits include: an inability to fully recognize the historical legacies of peripheral societies as equal or possibly superior frames of modernization, civil society construction and social inclusion. In particular, religious legacies of these non-Western systems are not recognized as equal or superior value systems, in contrast to the
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secularized value system of the contemporary Western core. At the same time, social scientists, academics and intellectuals should acknowledge their own involvement in these processes, which can be seen as processes of negotiating politically acceptable images. Sociologists, historians and literary scholars are all engaged, directly or indirectly, in this political work. While aware of the partially political nature of their work, they do not necessarily have to take on a political role. At least this is how I would see the role of critical sociology as opposed to public sociology. Therefore, I propose to look at what is happening in societies of Central and Eastern Europe, as far as its discourses on the “east” are concerned, as a constant competition of discourses bound by the structures of fields of power which generate them and as a competition of aspirations to a status of universality and inclusiveness. Critical analysis, I propose, should, in this context be based on comparison of different modes of inclusiveness and hierarchization. Instead of “deconstructing” myths understood as “false” images of societies, this type of analysis would try to reconstruct their mechanisms and understand their effectiveness. In this context, I would agree with Yaroslav Hrytsak that “the role of myths is not to represent a true or deformed world. They should be assessed not by the criteria of truthfulness, but by those of effectiveness.” (Hrycak, 2009a: 265). In other words, I would propose to look at myths in terms of pragmatics, rather than semantics. As I have mentioned, I argue that, for all those choosing to remain in the wider circle of Western intellectual life (which must imply recognition of superiority of key Western values and dominance), adoption of some forms of orientalism is unavoidable. Among those who reside in the Eastern peripheries of the Western core, adaptation of some forms of ideologies of Eastness, understood as contextualized forms of orientalism, seems inevitable. We can, however, try to partially limit these effects and be more aware of them. One can argue that all the discourses I have analyzed in this book, as well as this book itself, may be seen as manifestations of a Western identity. We have to recognize that, in this part of the globe, rejection of Westness is practically impossible. It would be perceived as a form of nihilism, extreme nationalism or simply foolishness. It also would not resonate with most of the actors in countries of the region. It is difficult for a Central European to adopt the stance of Chakrabarty or other non-Europeans intellectual whose distance from European culture is a byproduct of the autonomy of their own civilizations. This inability of Central and Eastern Europeans may be seen as the price to be paid for recognition of their “Westernness” or “Europeanness”. This may be related to the fact that even self-knowledge, understood in terms of “social-knowledge” (in opposition to private knowledge) comes at a certain price. Therefore, as I would argue, the modern Polish national identity is inherently orientalist, just as is that of most countries in Central Europe. There may be no way of avoid this effect, as this Central European orientalism seems to be an offspring of the more general, albeit less explicit, orientalism of the Western core. That orientalism is integrated into a wider system of domination.
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This system is actively functional and not just an accidental remnant of the past, a “lost stereotype”. One of the primary ways of repelling it is to Orientalize the other. Participation in orientalization discourse may be seen as, in fact, a paradoxical form of defense against the orientalism of others. This Central and Eastern European orientalism, which is often quite explicit, due to the privileged and visible role of cultural capital in the region, may also be seen as an attempt to define and defend one’s own ‘Westness’. One could argue that even critical debates on orientalism may be seen as forms of negotiation of politically acceptable ways of orientalization. This is because all ideologies of Eastness in Central Europe may be seen as variants of ideologies of Westness at the same time. Even post-colonial theory can be considered an ideology of Eastness as well as one of Westness. In particular, it is employed in different ways to frame current dependencies in terms of historical narratives. In the same way, discourses of post-communism still penetrate Central and Eastern Europe. These discourses may be seen as ideologies of Eastness that represent a discoursive legitimization of the dependence of the region on the Western core, which can also be seen as a form of discoursive compensation of that dependence. This work has constituted a reflection on the role of the global context on our ability to produce critical discourses which can tackle the forces of coreperiphery dependencies. In other words, this was an attempt to show how difficult it may be to overcome what I call the dependency doxa. It may be equally difficult to overcome the problem of the intelligentsia doxa in societies that have a privileged role for that social group. The context of peripheral location of Central and Eastern Europe is crucial from the point of view of the application of so-called critical theory in countries of the region. In the classical Western context, the configuration of the function of critical thought is based on several assumptions, which may appear as problematic in a peripheral context. First of all, the social inequalities are defined primarily in economic terms; dominant and dominated classes are easy to identity and, in most cases, are relatively stable. The intellectuals’ place is also relatively well defined. As Bourdieu pointed out, they may be defined as junior partners of domination or as the dominated faction of a dominating class. Their position, in effect of mechanism of homology, makes them natural allies of the lower classes (Bourdieu, 1985). At the same time, cultural capital functions rather as a supplementary resource, reinforcing a domination defined primarily in economic and political terms. In a peripheral setting, in particular in the region of Central and Eastern Europe, these assumptions are no longer so obvious. Economic inequalities may be sharp, but political and/or cultural hierarchies may appear as even more salient. In other words, political or cultural status may have a primary role in defining the status of the elites of peripheral countries, in particular, if it is analyzed from a long-term perspective. Just as the reproduction of elites may be a function of their cultural or political status, so too it may also be based on their ability to attain privileged positions in the economic sphere. In this context, cultural or political elites may be seen as the most privileged.
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The case of the cultural elite is particularly interesting. While it is usually the most important producer of critical discourses, in particular critical theory, in a peripheral setting defined by strong cultural capital it appears at same time as the dominant group. At the same time, as I have argued, naturalization of the intelligentsia as the elite of the nation, in particular in the Polish case, is very strong. The intelligentsia has managed to install itself as sacred caste, epitomizing the essence of human values. Any radical attack on the intelligentsia in this context implies an assault on the entire system of values of such a peripheral society. This further implies a situation where social critique by any intellectual would be tantamount to a critique of one’s own group. This may be a difficult task as it suggests the risk of being condemned for acting against the interest of one’s own milieu. This could be one of the reasons why critical approaches are relatively less popular in the social sciences of contemporary Central and Eastern Europe.
Challenges for critical theory at the peripheries As has been suggested earlier, given the peripheral status of countries like Poland, we can look at them as parts of wider social systems. First, we can look at the situation of Central Europe in the communist period when the region was primarily a periphery of the Soviet Empire, and its internal dominant hierarchies had a predominantly political character. Here, the cultural intelligentsia elite had a subaltern character, and was partially engaged in the legitimization of Soviet domination over other countries. It was also involved in the legitimization of the position of the Soviet and Polish communist elite. Since the 1960s, the proportion of those supporting dependence on the Soviet Union has been decreasing. With time, most of the intelligentsia, technically subordinated to the communist political elite, declined their legitimization for that group. Its allegiances were moving towards the West. Since the fall of communism, countries of zone one (Central Europe) can be seen as regaining their traditional peripheral position with respect to the core of the worldsystem. Since the dominant hierarchy of the Western core has predominately economic character, the intelligentsias of Central Europe can be seen as subaltern elites. It could be moreover argued that majority of them willingly legitimize Western economic domination. Their relatively weak interest in criticizing that dominance may be explained in different ways. One could speculate, for example, that there is an effect of homology appearing between the core and peripheral fields of power. The peripheral cultural elite, while subordinated to the global economic elite, identifies to some extent with its position, since, in its own peripheral context, it assumes a parallel dominant position. More important, however, is the strategy adapted by the majority of the liberal intelligentsia elite to legitimize itself as the most competent representative of Western culture. This strategy reinforces both the position of the intelligentsia and Western dominance in Central European peripheries. Given a clear synergy between both mechanisms this strategy creates a powerful
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symbolic effect. In this context, a critique of these two fundamental dimensions of domination, earlier referred to as doxas, may be difficult. As mentioned above, for authors located in the region, pointing to these doxas in a critical way may involve the risk of undermining their own privileged status as members of the intelligentsia. Moreover, their Westernness may also be at risk if they manifest an overtly Western-critical stance. Additionally, criticism of the mechanisms of economic domination, in particular the radical liberalization of the economic sphere implemented under pressure of global (Western) institutions, may involve a risk of being identified as being tainted with the “communist mentality”. This is, of course, a serious accusation in a context characterized by a permanent need to confront the remnants of communism. Most importantly, however, given the central role of Western credentials in the identity of the liberal intelligentsia, criticism of a dependence on the West has become a risky business for any intelligentsia member. In a situation where intelligentsia members are effectively competing for recognition of their Westness, an accusation of orientalism for many may be less risky or costly than an accusation of being tainted by oriental influences. Just as orientalizing others effectively reinforces and highlights one’s own Westernness, so too it is often difficult to decline it. At the same time, adapting a critical view of Western Europe or of the West, may also be problematic in Central Europe given the intelligentsia’s mission to promote the region in Western hierarchies of knowledge. When we take into account the willingness of most Central Europeans to be perceived as part of the West, they are usually reluctant to adapt a critical view of Western Europe. Another important issue related to criticism of the intelligentsia and dependence on the West, in particular criticism of the Western-origin of economic structures, is the structure of the peripheral political scene and, more generally, the structure of the peripheral field of power. The conflicts based on attitudes towards Western European domination divide the political spectrum into two camps. This Euro-enthusiasts vs. Euro-skeptics cleavage makes criticism of the doxas of dependence, and of the intelligentsia’s privileged status, almost impossible. Even if the conservative camp may often be over-sensitive to region’s dependence on Germany, or sometimes other Western countries, critiques are focused on liberals, who supposedly conduct submissive foreign policies. Thus, dependence on the Western core is mostly seen as resulting from psychological problems of the elites of Central European countries themselves. A good example of this point of view has been expressed by Poland’s former deputy minister of culture, Andrzej Was´ko. As a member of the conservative government he declared that “perceiving one’s own world as peripheral decreases self-confidence, results in low self-esteem and leads to susceptibility of socio-technical manipulations” (PAP, 2007). In this context, criticism of the intelligentsia as well as criticism of dependence on Western economic and political structures of domination (as corporations or European institutions) involves adherence to one side of the political
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spectrum. This results, however, in accusations of either anti-elitism, populism, nationalism, Homo-Sovieticus syndrome or a lack of respect for traditions and intelligentsia values, relativism, communist orientation and others. For this reason, such criticism is probably much easier to express for scholars based outside the region. Given the context of the peripheral center-periphery structured field of power, intellectuals located within the academic space of zone one are either pro-Western liberals fighting nationalism and backward parochialism or Euro-skeptical conservatives and patriots fighting nihilism, relativism and secularization of the country. Given the geopolitical context, criticism of the West can result in accusations of supporting Russian imperialism. At the same time, one could argue that, to a large extent, both sides of the dominant center-periphery cleavage in its Central European variant aspire to prove the superiority of their Western credentials and delegitimize the credentials of opponents. This confrontation is also accompanied by a clash of opposing visions of Europe. Geopolitical tensions in the entire region can be analyzed in a similar way. A good example, in this case, is the Polish–Russian contest, which can be also interpreted as a competition in “Europeanness”. On the one hand we have the Polish model, which is based on building European credentials on a cultural basis. At the center of this is the recognition of Poland’s “sophisticated” intellectual elite, high national culture and historical sacrifices made in the name of Europe. The role of culture, and in particular high culture, in Russia is also of high importance as far as building of European credentials is concerned. However, of even greater importance is the might of its military power and the greatness and force of its state. Just as Polish liberals deny their conservative opponents the right to represent modernity and identify with Europe, Poles, as a nation, also question Russian credentials in this respect. Polish conservatives see themselves as not only true patriots, but also as true Europeans, faithful to the old continent’s Christian roots. In the same way, Russians often see themselves as more European and modern than backward, neo-feudal and Russophobic Poland. In any case, the construction of peripheral fields of power and political scenes may be seen as a key component of critical thought in and about peripheries. First, there is the issue of incompatibility between Western European and peripheral political scenes. Second, there is the question of dependence between center and periphery, which can’t be ignored by a critically-oriented analyst. In a classical Western (core) configuration, we have a critical pole in the field of social sciences, which is homologous to the left sector of the political field. This is where critical discourses, such as post-colonial theory, are developed. Such discourses are usually openly critical towards the dominant elites of the core, in particular towards the economic elites. On the other hand, we have a peripheral academic field, in particular one that of Central and Eastern Europe, which is much less autonomous and has a completely different structure. The academic field of Central Europe is a key site for the reproduction of the intelligentsia elite, which may be seen as dominant, or at least equal in status, in relationship to the peripheral political and economic
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elites. The academic field is, itself, sharply divided by the center-periphery cleavage, which imposes very harsh limitations on possible conclusions to be discursively formed for a critical observer. The implications of the application of critical theory to an analysis of Central and Eastern Europe seem to depend, to a large extent, on the way we define the focus of our inquiry and its context. Looking at a single peripheral country like Poland, without taking into account its dependencies, could suggest that the main dimension of social stratification has a cultural nature and the dominant strata is the broadly defined intelligentsia. In a wider context, however, the intelligentsia may appear as a dominated class itself subordinated to global elites, in particular the global economic elite. In this broader, global view, the intelligentsia becomes more similar to Western intellectuals, at best a junior partner in exploitation. However, while Western intellectuals can enjoy their dominance only within the framework of their relatively autonomous cultural, intellectual or academic fields, the Central European intelligentsias appear to be privileged groups or classes within the entire, also relatively autonomous, nation state. Spivak, in the same way, distinguished three dominant groups in India: dominant foreign groups, dominant indigenous groups at the all-India level and dominant indigenous groups at the regional and local level (Spivak, 1988). In the case of Central and Eastern Europe, I would, however, emphasize the specificity of modes of domination at specific levels. The Polish example seems to provide an interesting case of the hierarchy of different dominant modes of dependence. While domination on a global level rests primarily on economic mechanisms, at the national Polish level the cultural dimension of domination prevails. At the regional level in Poland, domination may acquire even more specific forms, such as political, or be based on, for example, informal types of social capital (like clan structures). In any case, any peripheral elite may be seen as dominant in the peripheral context, but in a wider context it may be seen as dominated. These different views on the situation in the periphery or semi-periphery assume different points of observation. They can be located in the Western core, either in the dominant pole of its field of power (one closer to economic capital) or in the subordinated pole of the field of power (one closer to cultural capital and critically-oriented intellectuals). Semi-peripheries in zone one, such as Poland, are where we have at least two main positions to choose from: the liberal one in the sector of the field of power closer to the West and the conservative one more critical of the West. In the zone three we can also distinguish between liberal and conservative Western-critical sides of the field of power closer to the state elite (as in Russia). This may be seen as a much more complex scheme of provincialization of Western Europe than the original model proposed by Dipesh Chakrabarty. Provincialization, as he originally assumed, should involve the identification of ambivalences and contradictions of Western modernity, show the repressiveness of its nature and implicit use of force and show connections between violence and idealism. In a similar vein,
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Atilla Melegh (speaking from the Central European semi-periphery) follows Chakrabarty and defines the task of critical sociology as “border-thinking” that challenges both “Western universalism” and “eastern nationalism”. This also involves overcoming the love/hate attitude to the Western core. Chakrabarty argued that the political project of provincialization must realize its impossibility as the rejection of Western modernity would be politically suicidal. Looking, however, from the perspective of the semi-peripheral position of Central and Eastern Europe, such a conclusion may not necessarily appear as the only one. In particular a Central and East European view on the Western core may not necessarily imply an attack on modernity as such, but, rather, a certain rearrangement of hierarchies. Let me quote here an example of an ironic Polish provincialization of the West proposed by Lesław Kula, who suggested that United States and Western Europe may be seen as having an incomplete social structure (given the lack of an intelligentsia), which results in tensions of excessive political correctness. The intelligentsia, as Kula suggested, can be instrumental in taming the hegemony of political correctness and the commercial media (Kula, 2001). What we can, in other words, envisage is a process that may be seen as a negotiation of the conditions by which the elements of peripheral capitals will be recognized. Any attempt at description or analysis of peripheral regions may be seen as an act of entering into such negotiations. Chantal Mouffe, however, has a different view on this issue. She is a supporter of the recognition of full equality for non-European modernities. As she argues: Tully’s reflections about the possibility of non-Western enlightenments are crucial for the formulations of the multi-polar approach. Indeed such an approach requires us to accept that there are other forms of modernity than the one which the West is trying to impose worldwide, irrespective of the respect of other histories and traditions. To defend a model of society different from the Western one should not be seen as an expression of backwardness and proof that one remains in a ‘pre-modern’ stage. It is high time to abandon the Eurocentric tenet that our model has a privileged claim on rationality and on morality. (Mouffe, 2005: 124–25) Perspectives from Eastern and Central Europe presented in this book show how difficult any attempt at following Mouffe’s call may be. First of all, the peripheral modernities are themselves split, fragmented and highly hierarchical. At the same time, I would argue that there is no neutral way of framing these issues. Each mode of speaking about orientalism and inequalities (both symbolic and material), requires the assumption of a certain point of view. It also requires the perception of specific dimensions of inequalities. At the same time, such position takings, to use Pierre Bourdieu’s term, will always imply an expression of support for some political and geo-political
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configuration of the global order. This order may privilege particular regions, states, elites and their factions. Thus I would argue that we are all condemned to be, to a greater or lesser extent, prisoners of orientalist stereotypes, since they are based on real and existent non-discursive inequalities, which include conditions for production of knowledge. What we can do, however, is make these dependencies and entanglements more visible and identifiable.
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Index
Africa 95, 119 Algeria 147 Americas 247 Anders Army 215 Anderson, Benedict 135, 151 Andrukhovych, Yuri 242 Appadurai, Arjun 44 Artun, Ayse 192 Asia 95, 97 Austin, John 14, 41 Australia 247 Austria 79, 134, 180, 183, 241–44 Austrian Empire 18, 116, 180, 185, 226, 240–42, 244–45 Aviation Valley 186 Babha, Homi 59 Babin´ski, Grzegorz 155, 160 Babylon 97 Bakhtin, Mikhail 173 Bakic-Hayden, Milica 80 Bakuła, Bogusław 121, 125–30, 139 Balkans 44, 85, 164, 176 Baltic states 19, 28, 34, 52, 91, 101, 118, 149, 246 Baltics tribes 110 Banach, Stefan 242 Baran´ska, Katarzyna 83 Bassin, Mark 142 Batory University in Wilno see Vilnius Bauman, Richard 89 Beauvois, Daniel 124–25, 127, 130, 134–42 Bechtel, Delphine 246–47 Beckett, Samuel 253 Bedrychowska, Bogumiła 242 Bekus, Nelly 234 Belarus 19–20, 23, 30, 51, 72–73, 103–4; Belarusian Soviet Socialist Republic 116; reactions to Kresy discourse in
117–18, 121, 130–31, 139, 149; reactions to Polish discourses in 229–32, 237, 239, 249–53; role in Podlasie region 189, 205–6, 208, 211–13, 216–19 Belgium 188 Benelux 188 Beniowski, Maurycy 215 Benjamin, Walter 239 Berend, Iván 18 Berlin 39, 79, 110 Best, Ulrich 10 Bialasiewicz, Luiza 239–40 Białous, Maciej 225 . Białowieza Forest 216–18 Białystok 191, 196–218, 221, 225, 227; University of 205, 249 Billig, Michael 45 Blagojevic´, Marina 5 Błahut-Biegan´ska, Danuta 136 Blavascunas, Eunice 216–18 Blommaert, Jan 14 Bobkov, Ihar 48, 251 Bohem (Bohemia) see Czech lands Bojar, Hanna 190–91 Bolshevik Revolution 101, 116, 146–47, 184, 210, 254 Boltanski, Luc 12, 54 Bömelburg, Hans-Jürgen 142 Borawska, Beata 200 Borderland Foundation see Pogranicze Böröcz, József 5, 18, 34–37, 78, 81, 86–88, 187–88 Bourdieu, Pierre 1, 8, 13–17, 25, 42; cultural capital 50, 53–54; neoliberal newspeak 164; structures of domination 258, 260, 265; structures of the field of cultural production 70–71, 74, 107, 145
286
Index
Braudel, Fernand 16, 176–77, 193 Bremen 98 Breslau see Wrocław Brest 220, 251 Bretagne 138 Briggs, Charles 89 Britain 26, 59, 95, 101, 128 Brubaker, Rogers 44 Brussels 37 BTSK (Belarusian Social and Cultural Association) 206 Buchowski, Michał 29, 38, 55–56, 79, 81–83, 85, 107, 164 Bukowski, Andrzej 243, 244 Bulgaria 56, 68 Burawoy, Michael 13, 15, 173, 258 Burgess, Adam 33, 44 Bush, George W. 97 Buzalka, Juraj 30, 168 Buzek Government 196 Buzek Reform 197 California 157 Calvinism 57, 58 Camus, Albert 253 Canada 217 Cannes Film Festival 96 Casanova, Pascale 37, 42 Catalonia 138 Catholic Church 25, 27, 98, 109, 206, 232 Cavanagh, Clare 91, 95 Celtic mythology 109 Central America 119 Central Industrial Region see COP Chajewski, Adam 236 Chakrabarty, Dipesh 54, 57, 59, 62, 97, 259, 264–65 Chałasin´ski, Józef 65 Chiapello, Ève 12 Chirot, Daniel 178 Chomsky, Noam 102 Christianity 58 Christoph, Mick 241 CIA 47 Cierniak, Rafał 212 Cipolla, Carlo 176 citizenship 59, 60, 62,107; European 239; national belonging 203; Sarmatia and 135, 139 Civic Platform party see PO civil society 29; critical theory and 258; feudal 256; Kresy discourse and 120, 125, 133, 143, 139, 141, 149; new
borderlands and 172, 252; post-colonial 92, 106–7; Western hegemony and 38, 52, 59, 61 Coakley, John 80 Cold War 177 Colovic´, Ivan 44 Congress Kingdom 104, 182 Conrad, Joseph 95 COP 186–87, 227 CPE see Cultural Political Economy Cracow see Kraków Crusades 110 Cultural Political Economy 14, 15 Cumbers, Andrew 38, 158–60 Czachur, Waldemar 55, 238 Czaplin´ski, Przemysław 143 Czech lands 148, 240 Czech Republic 103, 109, 240 Czechoslovakia 27, 28, Cze˛stochowa 197 . Czykwin, Elzbieta 205 . Czyzewski, Krzysztof 165–67, 219–24 Da˛browskie Bassin 181, 197 Dahrendorf, Ralf 239 Danielewicz-Kerski, Dorota 110 Danilevsky, Nikolay 103 Danzel 227 Danzig see Gdan´sk . Daraz, Zdzisław 227 Davis, Norman 79 Dehli 151 Delanty, Gerard 9, 10, 166, 172 Dmowski, Roman 231–33 Dolina Lotnicza see Aviation Valley Doman´ski, Bolesław 96, 176 Donbass 252 Dostatni, Tomasz 218 Dostoyevsky, Fyodor 93, 116, 211 Drahokoupil, Jan 35, 75 Drozdek, Michał 91 Drucki-Lubecki, Prince 181 Duchy of Warsaw 104 Dudaev, Dzokhar 244 Dugin, Aleksander 61 Dunn, Elisabeth 36 Eastern Galicia see Galicia Eastern Germany see Germany Eastern Partnership 98, 222–24 Eastern Poland see Poland Eastern Prussia see Prussia Eco, Umberto 140 Elbe 178
Index Elbla˛g (Elbing) 179 Ełk 197 England 119, 189 Enlightenment 98, 99, 120, 141 Esperanto 209 Estonia 19, 34, 56, 121, 215, 229 Etkind, Aleksander 34, 81, 100–101 European Union (EU) 8, 10, 12; and the new borderlands discourse 168; Eastern Poland and 175, 187, 189–91, 193, 195, 199, 202, 205, 216, 219, 221–27; intelligentsia and 67, 73, 78, 83; Kresy discourse and 119, 121, 123, 142; peripheries in 18–20, 24–25, 30, 34–38, 51; post-colonial interpretations of 98, 105; role in Belarus and Ukraine 238, 249–50 Eyal, Gil 66, 67 Fairclough, Norman 194–95 Fanon, Frantz 67, 91, 112 Fedorowicz, J. K. 176 Fedyszak-Radziejowska, Barbara 121 Feudalism 51 Fianna Fail 26 Fine Gael 26 First Rzeczpospolita 60; Eastern Poland and memory of 180, 215, 221–22; images in Belarus, Lithuania and Ukraine 235, 243, 255–56; postcolonial interpretations of 98–99, 102, 105–7, 110; The Kresy discourse and 115–25, 132–42, 146, 149 First World War 18, 60, 61, 147, 180, 185, 218, 240–41 Fiut, Aleksander 92, 119 Florida, Richard 157, 193 Foucault, Michel 12, 36, 39, 45, 55, 79, 140, 158, 160 France 67, 74, 86, 89, 95, 96, 136, 138, 188, 209 French revolution 57, 59, 16, 143, 238 Fuszara, Małgorzata 127 Gadzhiev 104 Galbright, Marysia 36 Galicia 127, 129, 180, 195, 226, 239–41, 243, 244–47, 252; Eastern Galicia 243; Western Galicia 239, 244 Gapova, Elena 239 Gassner, Florian 48 Gazeta Wyborcza 127, 207 Gdan´sk 179–80, 186 Gdynia 186
287
Gecˇ iene, Ingrida 236 Gella, Alexander 60 Germany 55, 67, 79, 83; Eastern Germany 93, 110, 175, 178, 189; New Borderlands and the role of 178, 181, 184–88, 202; Polish eastern policy and 231, 238, 244, 262; postcolonial views on 92–93, 96, 99, 102–3, 108–9, 110–11; role in the Kresy discourse 121, 127, 130, 136, 140, 142, 147 Ghetto Upprising 58–59, 244, 262 Giedroyc´, Jerzy 117, 128, 130, 223, 232; Giedroyc´ Doctrine 150, 232–33, 237 Gierek, Edward 197 Giertych, Roman 136 Gieysztor, Aleksander 123 Glin´ski, Robert 67 González, Sara 189 Gorbacheva (Gorbaczewa), Olga 235 Górny, Maciej 110 Gorzelak, Grzegorz 177, 187, 192–94, 197 Gosk, Hanna 125–26, 146–47 Governnentality 12 Grabowicz, George 128 Grabowska, Mirosława 30 Great Britain see Britain Great War see First World War Greater Poland 58, 80–81, 178–80, 183 Greece 188, 189 Grinius, Ke˛stutis 236 Grocholski, Zdzisław 146 Gródek 211 Grodno 190, 212–13 Gross, Felix 122 Gross, Jan Tomasz 165 Grott, Bogumił 232, 233 Grzymski, Jan 36 Gurdała, 167 Habermas, Jürgen 239 Hadaczek, Bolesław 118–19, 122, 132 Hanafi, Sari 26 Hanseatic, League 177 Hapsburg Empire (Habsburg Monarchy) see Austrian Empire Hardt, Michael 10, 36 Hardy, Jane 35 Hechter, Michael 34, 79, 101 Heidenreich, Martin 176 Heisenberg, Werner 12 Herbst, Mikołaj 185 Hnatiuk, Ola 242 Holly Roman Empire 109
288
Index
Holmes, Sherlock 151 Holocaust 58 Homo Sovieticus 29, 164, 252, 263 Horolets, Anna 83 Hoyler, Michael 176, 177 Hryniewicz, Janusz 105, 183 Hrytsak, Yaroslav (Hrycak, Jarosław) 242–44, 246, 248, 250, 252, 259 Hungary 19, 27, 30, 34, 64, 66, 79, 86–87, 142, 149, 187 Huntington, Samuel 28 India 57, 59, 119, 151 Industrial Revolution 177 Iraq 96, 97 Iraq war 107 Ireland 26, 97, 109, 188 Israel 92 Italy 175–77, 188–89, 244; Southern Italy 189 Ivan tsar 119 Jacyno, Małgorzata 28 Jagiełło, Władysław King 221 Jagiellonian University 205 Jakovenko (Jakowenko), Natalia 116, 235 Jałowiecki, Bohdan 177, 186, 19–94 Janion, Maria 83, 108–10, 142 Janos, Andrew 39 Janowicz, Sokrat 201–2, 211 Japan 182 Jasiewicz, Krzysztof 132 Jasionka Airpor in Rzeszów 226 Jedlicki, Jerzy 44 Jessop, Bob 14–15, 194–95 Junker estates 178–79, 187 Kabzin´ska, Iwona 236–37 Kaczorowski, Aleksander 147–50 Kaczynski brothers 141; Jarosław 99–100, 108, 142; Lech 131 Kafka, Franz 253 Kagarlitsky, Boris 17 Kalicki, Włodzimierz 52 Kaliningrad see Königsberg Kaliningrad Oblast 130 Kamchatka 215 Kapus´cin´ski, Ryszard 80, 123, 234 Karamazin, Nikolay 98 Karaszewska, Justyna 159, 160 Kasperski, Edward 160 Kavelin, Nikolay 210 Kazakhstan 74, 189
Keating, Michael 158 Kelertas, Violeta 248 Kempny, Marian 162, 163 Kenya 100 Khodorkovski, Mikhail 74 Kieniewicz, Jan 119, 122 Kiossev, Alexander 68, 79, 80 Kiš, Danilo 166 Kleßmann, Christoph 122–23, 142 Kłoczowski, Jerzy 104, 110, 139 Kochanowicz, Jacek 180–83, 185 Koczanowicz, Leszek 112 Köhler, Matthias István 5 Kokowski, Andrzej 218 Kola, Adam 166 Kolerov, Modest 102 Kołodziejczyk, Dorota 112–13 Kongresówka see Congress Kingdom Königsberg 197 Korys´, Piotr 186 Kostro, Robert 233, 234 Kowalska, Małgorzata 249, 250 Kozłowski, Tomasz Kuba 136 Kraków 96, 121, 179, 186, 205, 234, 240 Krasnode˛bski, Zdzisław, 93–95, 98–99, 247 Kraszewski, Józef Ignacy 116 Kremlin 22–23, 69, 73, 75, 108, 256, 258 Kresy 106, 115–29, 132–33, 137–39, 115–51; New Borderlands discourse and 152–54, 159–60, 168–69, 172; reactions in Belarus and Ukraine 233–34, 254, 256; uses in Eastern Poland 199, 212–18, 222–23 Krynki 211 Kubicki, Paweł 44, 106–7 Kubilius, Andrius 236 Kuklin´ski, Antoni 185, 189, 194 Kula, Lesław 265; Kula, Wiktor 33, 133–34 Kulikove Polie, Battle of 142 Kultura 223, 232, 253 Kundera, Milan 239 Kundera, Milan 28 Kurcz, Zbigniew 237–38 Kurczewska, Joanna 161–62, 190–91 Kuron´, Jacek 128, 220 Kuus, Merje 5, 28, 34, 37, 38–39, 49, 56, 77–78, 83, 129 Kwas´niewski, Aleksander 232 Kyiv (Kiev) 247, 250 Laclau, Ernesto 14 Lagzi, Gábor 142
Index Łan´cut Festival 196 Larner, Wendy 152, 158 Latvia 19, 121, 215 Łatyszonek, Oleg 205, 207, 212–13 Laufer, Paweł 198, 213–14, 219 Law und Justice party see PIS Legutko, Ryszard 132 Lem, Stanisław 129, 242 Lermontov, Mikhail 244 Lithuania 19; and the Kresy discourse 117–18, 121, 130–31, 138–39; Great Duchy of 179, 222, 234; in the Polish eastern policy 229, 232, 236–37, 244, 248, 250–51, 253; Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic 116; new borderlands discourse and 201, 205, 212, 215 Little Poland 179 Łódz´ 181, 211 Loew, Peter Oliver 141 . Łomza 197 London 79 Lovering, John 159 Lublin 104, 140; Catholic University of 220; Lviv and 250–51; new identities of 179, 198, 209, 213–14, 218–27; Union of 221–22 Lukievich, Uladzimir (Lukiewicz, Włodzimierz) 251 Lviv (Lwów, Lvov, Lemberg) place in the Kresy discourse 117, 128–29, 150; Eastern Poland’s relations to 190, 197, 204, 213–14, 220, 225, 227; ideologies of eastness in and about 232, 234, 239, 240, 242–48, 250–53; Lwów University 214 Mackiewicz, Józef 237 MacKinnon, Danny 38, 158–59, 170 Ma˛czak, Antoni 136 Malikowski, Radosław 195, 196 Małkowska-Szozda, Agata 36 Małopolska see Little Poland Małowist, Marian 33 Marxism 27, 95, 105, 238–39 Masłowska, Dorota 83 Masovia 179 Matiuchina, Aleksandra 253 Maxwell, Alexander 48 Mazepa, Leszek 242 Mazowsze see Masovia McAllister, Ian 26 McMaster, Robert 38, 158–59, 170
289
Melegh, Atilla 4–5, 28, 33, 47, 78, 154, 265 Meri, Lennart 56 Michnik, Adam 51 Mickiewicz, Adam 110, 216, 243 Middle East 26, 54, 140 middle-ages 57, 110, 176–78 Mielec 186 Mieroszewski, Juliusz 117, 232 Mieszko 1st 109 Miller, Alexei 103–4, 138 Miłosz, Czesław 95, 128 Minsk 205, 251 Mironowicz, Eugeniusz 202 Mittle Europa (Mittel Europa) 4, 102 Mizerkiewicz, Tomasz 124 Moes, Jeroen 85–86 Moïsi, Dominique 48–49 Moldova 229 Molik, Witold 55 Mongols 115 Moore, Dani Chioni 93 Morawski, Witold 193 Moscow 26, 29, 100, 103, 117, 140, 182, 240, 250 Mouffe, Chantal 11, 14, 45, 50 Movement for Silesia Autonomy 28 Muscovy 115, 123, 265 Napoleonic wars 48 Narvselius, Eleonora 244–46, 253 Negri, Antonio 10, 36 Netherlands 86, 188 New York 79 New York Times 167 Nikitorowicz, Andrzej 204 Nikžentaitis, Alvydas 236 Niwa 212 Nölke, Andreas 35, 36 nomenclatura 30 Norkus, Zenonas 235 North-Eastern Poland see Poland North-Western Poland see Poland Novgorod 119 Nowak, Andrzej 96–98, 103–4, 119, 138–39 Nowakowski, Jerzy Marek 121 Nycz, Ryszard 113 O’Connell, Declan 26 October Revolution of 1917 see Bolshevik Revolution Offe, Claus 239 Old-Polish Industrial Bassin 181
290
Index
Olecko 197 Olsztyn 197 Orange Revolution 123, 124, 232–33 Orbán, Viktor 22 Orenburg 101 Orłowski, Hubert 110, 111 Orthodox Church 130, 202, 204–7, 212–13 Ost, David 95, 252 Ostrowiec S´wie˛tokrzyski 181 Pakistan 100 Paluch, Marek 195–96 Pan-Slavic movement 109 Panarin, Aleksandr 103, 104 Paris 39, 79, 223 Partacz, Czesław 232 Paszkowski, Zbigniew Władysław 156 Perkins, J. A. 178, 179 Peru 100 Petersburg see Sankt Petersburg Piłsudski, Bronisław 215; Józef 214, 231–33, 237 PIS 86, 99, 112, 206 Pivovarov, Yury 104 Pleshakov 104 PO 112, 206, 210 Podkarpackie Region 192 Podlasie 130, 162, 192, 197, 201–2, 205–6, 208, 211, 215 Pogranicze 165, 167 Poland 18–19, 26–31; and Western hegemony 32 35, 40, 52, 55, 58–61; critical views of 261–64; Eastern Poland 2, 18, 82, 123 152, 163; intelligentsia of 64–67, 70, 76, 79–81, 83, 85–86, 88; Kingdom of 177; new borderlands discourse in 152 164–65, 168; new identities of Eastern Poland 175–228, 250; North-Eastern Poland 30, 165; North-Western Poland 29; Polish Peoples Republic (PRL) 186; postcolonial interpretations of 90–151; relations with Belarus, Lithuania and Ukraine 229–54; Second Rzeczpospolita 60, 116, 146, 185, 186, 231–32, 243; South-Eastern Poland 30, 196; Western Poland 177–78 Polish Peoples Republic see Poland Polish United Workers Party see PZPR Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth see First Rzeczpospolita Pollack, Martin 240–41
Pomorze Zachodnie see Western Pomerania Portugal 119, 188 Poznan´ 85 Prague 148 Prizel, Ilia 231 PRL see Poland Protestantism 56 Prunitsch, Christian 140, 141 Prus, Bolesław 147 Prussia 99, 110, 134, 180, 183–84, 244; Eastern Prussia 130, 142, 187, 197; Prussian Empire 18; Prussians 110 Przemys´l 227 Pushkin, Alexander 93, 243 . Puszcza Białowieska see Białowieza Forest Putin, Vladimir 73, 141 Putnam, Robert 13, 176 PZPR 186, 197 Radio Racja 206 Radziejowski, Bartłomiej 139 Radziwiłł Family 212 Rak, Krzysztof 121, 122 RAS´l see Movement for Silesia Autonomy Rasputin, Valentin 93 Red Army 115 Renaissance 99, 238 Riabchuk, Mykola (Riabczuk, Mykoła) 240–50, 253 Riga Treaty 116, 146, 254 Rokkan, Stein 1, 16–17, 25–26, 153–54, 176–77, 188 Roma 86 Roman Empire 178 Roman´czuk, Halina 211 Romanovs’ Empire see Russian Empire Rose, Nikolas 39 Roth, Joseph 245 Roussillon see Catalonia Royal Prussia 179 Russia 17–34; critical theory and 255, 257, 263–64; in identities of Eastern Poland 180–85, 189, 197, 210; in identities of former Soviet countries 229, 231, 233–38, 244, 248–50; intelligentsia in 65–74, 81, 85; place in the Kresy discourse 118, 123–25, 129–31, 134, 138, 141–42, 146; post-colonial interpretations of 90, 91–93, 95–104, 108–9; Western hegemony and 56–57, 60–61
Index Russian Empire 109, 116, 124, 129, 180, 182–83, 209, 211, 215, 218, 249, 254, 256 Russian Orthodox Church, 130 Russian Revolution see Bolshevik Revolution Rzeczpospolita see First Rzeczpospolita and Poland Rzeszów 186, 195–97, 226–27 Rzeszów University of Technology 227 Saale 178 Sacher Masoch, Leopold von 245 Sadowski, Andrzej 162, 162, 202–3, 205, 208 Safronovas, Vasilius 248 Said, Edward 1–2, 4, 33, 44, 48, 54, 78, 91, 128, 168, 239 Sakwa, Richard 257 San 186 Sankt Petersburg 100, 182, 183, 211, 213, 240 Saratov 101 Sarkar, Mahua 34, 37 Sarmatian ideology (Sarmatism) 124, 133–35, 139, 140–44 Schengen Agreement 189, 191–92, 219, 220, 223 Schiller, Friedrich 243 Schmidt, Carl 11, 13 Schmitt, Carl 249 Schneider, Deborah Cahalen 76, 80 Schoer, Karl 178, 179 Schöpflin, George 44, 50 Schulz, Bruno 245 Scott, James W. 158 Second Rzeczpospolita see Poland Second World War 92, 116, 148, 185, 218–19, 232, 239 Sejm 60 Sejny 165, 167 Shevchenko, Igor 243 Shields, Stuart 37 Siberia 101, 142, 160, 214 Siemiatycze 200 Sienkiewicz, Henryk 116 Sigismund III Vasa 98 Siisiäinen, Martti 13 Silesia 186 Silesian Upprising 185 Silicon, Valley 157, 190 Skórczewski, Dariusz 97, 111 Slavophiles 26 SLD 206
291
S´leszyn´ski, Wojciech 184, 213 Slovak republic 109 Snochowska-Gonzalez, Claudia 83, 92, 95, 105–8, 112 Snyder, Timothy 52, 130, 149 Social Democratic Party see SLD Solidarity (Solidarnos´c´) 27, 65, 94, 98–99, 150, 195, 253 Solzhenitsyn, Aleksandr 93 Sonderweg 141, 257 Sorokin 104 Sosnowska, Anna 33, 61, 134, 149, 178 South America 119 South-Eastern Poland see Poland Southern Italy see Italy Soviet block 18, 32, 103; Soviet Empire 118, 234, 261 Soviet Union 10, 17–22, 25–28, 32–33, 44, 47; in identities of Belarus, Lithuania and Ukraine 234, 249–56, 261; in identities of Eastern Poland 186, 189, 196, 205, 212, 215; postcolonial intepretations of 91–95, 98; role in the Kresy discourse 116, 119, 124, 137 Sowa, Jan 125, 127, 133–39, 234 Sowa, Kazimierz 243 Spain 119 Spasic´, Ivana 5, 163–65 Spivak, Gayatri 54, 264 Stalinism 23, 27, 64–66, 116 Staniszkis, Jadwiga 30, 37, 99 Stankiewicz, Stanisław 208 Starachowice 181 Stefan´ski, Marian 0 Steinbach, Erica 127 Straughn, Jeremy Brooke 80 Stryjek, Tomasz 51, 52 Sulima-Kamin´ski, Andrzej 120 Surynt, Izabela 110 Swarze˛dz 85 S´wia˛tkowski, Zbigniew 155–56 S´wie˛tokrzyskie Region 193 Switzerland 188 Szabó, László C. 110 Szelényi, Iván 66–67 Szerszunowicz, Jerzy 209 Szmeja, Maria 28 Sztompka, Piotr 29, 40–41, 81, 252 Sztop-Rutkowska, Katarzyna 225 Szulecki, Kacper 125, 127, 130 Szwabowski, Oskar 112
292
Index
Tarasheva, Elena 56 Tatars 115 Taylor, Charles 171 Taylor Peter J. 176–77 Tazbir, Janusz 52, 99, 115–16, 140, 142 Tefelski, Maciej 202 Thompson, Ewa 33, 93–100, 106, 136, 137 Tilly, Charles 176 Timar, Judith 56 Titarenko, Larissa 251–52 Todorova, Maria 4–5, 33 Tolstoy, Lev 93, 116 Topolski, Jerzy 33 Torun´ (Thorn) 179, 214 Townsley, Eleanor 66–67 Traba, Robert 122–23, 142 Transilvania 142 Tsarist Russsia see Russian Empire Tula 101 Tully, James 265 Turkey 101 Turks 115 Tygielski, Wojciech 136 Ukraine 19, 20, 23, 30, 51, 85, 90–91, 103–4; image in the Kresy discourse 117–18, 121–24, 126, 130–31, 138–39, 149; images in Easten Poland 189, 197, 220–212, 219, 227; Poland and identity of 229, 230, 232–33, 235, 237, 240–53; Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic 116 ULB Doctrine see Giedroyc´, Jerzy Uniate Church 120 United Kingdom 236 United States (US) 55, 93, 96–97, 107, 140, 151, 217, 236, 265 UPA 227, 246 Upper Silesia 28, 58, 181, 183, 187, 197 Urwin, Derek 17, 176, 188 Uspenski, Boris 69 Venice Film Festival 96 Vertov, Dziga 210, 211 Vienna 39, 182, 183, 211; Congress 180 Viktor Orbán 22 Vilnius 117, 150, 197, 212–14, 232, 234, 236; Batory University in 214 Vistula 186 Vliegenthart, Arjan 35–36 Volhynia (Wołyn´) 179, 232
Wacquant, Loïc 25, 164 Wagner, Richard 241, 242 Waldstein, Maxin 80, 234 Walicki, Andrzej 26, 140, 246 Wallenrod, Konrad 110 Wallerstein, Immanuel 14, 16, 17–18, 33, 48, 87, 91, 133, 178; World System Theory 5, 14, 16–18, 33, 40–41, 105, 133–34, 178 Walters, William 152, 158 Wappa, Eugeniusz 212 Warczok, Tomasz 0 Warsaw 28, 81, 85; postcolonial interpretation 98–99, 147–48; role in identities of Eastern Poland 175, 179, 181–83, 196, 208, 211, 213–14, 226; role in image of the First Rzeczpospolita 234; University of 205; Upprising 58–59, 148 Wasilewski, Adam 218–24 Was´ko, Andrzej 262 Wawel Castle 97 Weber, Max 99 Wedel, Janine 76, 78 Western Balkans 164 Western Galicia see Galicia Western Poland see Poland Western Pomerania 187 White Mountain, Battle of 149 Wielkopolska see Greater Poland Wierzbicki, Andrzej 26 Wilno see Vilnius Winiecki, Jan 81 Witte, Sergei de 182 Wojakowski, Dariusz 160 Wojciechowski, Marcin 127, 128 Wokulski, Stanisław 147 Wolf, Larry 8, 9, 33, 47, 48, 102, 256 World System Theory see Wallerstein, Immanuel World War II see Second World War . Woroniecka, Grazyna 169, 170 Wóycicki, Kazimierz 55, 238 Wrocław 213, 214, 225 Wyczan´ski, Andrzej 33 Wyrobisz, Andrzej 179 Yugoslavia 28 Zaborowska, Magdalena 165–67 Zagłe˛bie Da˛browskie see Da˛browskie Bassin Zagłe˛bie Staropolskie see Old-Polish Industrial Bassin
Index . Zalin´ski, Henryk 55 Zamenhof, Ludwik 209, 211 Zanussi, Krzysztof 96 Zarycki, Tomasz 25–26, 30, 64, 67, 81, 85, 94, 98, 183, 228, 231, 252 Zashkilniak (Zaszkliniak), Leonid 235–36 Zdrodowska, Magdalena 215
Zhuravlev, Oleg 26 Ziemkiewicz, Rafał 100 Ziółkowski, Marek (diplomat) 233 Ziółkowski, Marek (sociologist) 35 Živkovic´, Marko 5 Zlobina, Tamara 245, 246, 248 Zukowski, Ryszard 177–78 . Zywiec region 76–77, 80
293
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