THE DANGER OF ETHNIC HOMOGENEITY
By Boris Kagarlitsky
The Moscow Times
Sept 18 2008
Russia
Judging by the mood in Tbilisi just before and after the war, it is
clear that Georgian and Russian societies are remarkably similar. In
both countries, we see the desire to rally the people around the state
regardless of their leaders’ faults and mistakes. They both also
believe that the state should hold onto its separatist territories
at all costs.
Look at the parallels between Chechnya and South Ossetia. The Kremlin
used force and widespread destruction as justifiable measures in the
Chechen war, and Georgia considered the bombing of South Ossetian
towns as a just punishment for the republic’s rebellion.
But there is one fundamental difference between public opinion in
Georgia and Russia. In Georgia, nationalism is pervasive, and the few
who might feel differently are careful to remain silent. In Russia,
dissenting voices can always be heard, even when patriotic fervor
reaches unprecedented levels.
In contrast, when a small state dominated by a single ethnic group
whips up nationalistic sentiment, it has an amazing power to mobilize
the entire community in support of a single idea or belief, leaving
almost no room for criticism. During the Soviet era, the Moscow
intelligentsia took a patronizing pleasure in the ethnic solidarity
among people from the Baltic states — particularly when it was
compared to the lack of unification among ethnic Russians. Many
Russians admired the Baltic song festivals, in which thousands of
people lined up in long columns. But the scenes always made me uneasy
because of their striking resemblance to the mass rallies of Hitler’s
Third Reich.
Georgia is far from being the only former Soviet republic with a
uniform public opinion. You would have trouble finding anyone in
Armenia who could understand Azerbaijan’s position regarding the
conflict in Nagorno-Karabakh. Many contemporary Turkish intellectuals
would willingly risk going to jail for stating that almost 100 years
ago, a genocide of Armenian citizens did, in fact, occur on Turkish
soil, even though the Turkish government denies it. But I do not know
of a single Armenian intellectual who has ever written anything that
treats Turkish history and culture with respect.
Every year, many young Israelis refuse military duty in the occupied
territories and activists from Israel’s political left speak out
for the rights of Palestinians. Yet decisions by the authorities
in Estonia and Lithuania designed to offend the feelings of their
Russian minorities, such as moving the Bronze Soldier monument in
Tallinn and prohibiting Soviet symbols in Vilnius, did not provoke
the slightest protest among any Estonians and Lithuanians, even among
the most liberal of them. Causing divisions among people along ethnic
lines is by no means a sign of pluralism.
Paradoxically, the split in Russian public opinion between supporters
and opponents of the country’s imperial traditions is far more similar
to public sentiment in Western Europe than to many countries on
Russia’s borders. It is inevitable that Russia’s "post-imperial"
consciousness evokes criticism, discussion and reflection in
society. The same is largely true in Ukraine with its sharp division
between the Ukrainian majority and the substantial Russian minority.
Russians can portray themselves as either victims or aggressors. They
can take pride in their history or be ashamed of it. We experience
conflicting emotions regarding both our past and our present. We
are free to argue about our country’s future course. These are all
characteristics of a healthy society that, having once fallen ill
with the disease of nationalism, is now likely to recover.
Unfortunately, the same cannot be said with any certainty regarding
the ethnically homogeneous former Soviet republics.