Category Archives: Field of Central Eurasian Studies

Author Interview: Oceans of Milk, Oceans of Blood: A Mongolian Monk in the Ruins of the Qing Empire, by Matthew King (University of California, Riverside)

Editor’s Note: This fall we are pleased to present again a series of some of the books shortlisted for awards in the Social Sciences and Humanities at CESS.  In this first installment, Daigengna Duoer (University of California, Santa Barbara) interviews Matthew King (University of California, Riverside), on his book Ocean of Milk, Ocean of Blood: A Mongolian Monk in the Ruins of the Qing Empire, published by Columbia University Press.

  • A polymath Buddhist monk from Khalkha Mongolia, Zava Damdin Lubsangdamdin (Tib. Blo bzang rta mgrin, 1867-1937), and his writings are the center of focus in your book. What led you to write about him and his hundreds of texts?

After I finished my undergraduate degree, on the invitation of a Tibetan lama who was going on a teaching tour of Gobi Desert villages, I began spending time in Buddhist revivalist communities in Mongolia sometime around 2006. Though I knew nothing about Zava Damdin when I embarked on that first trip (or about Mongolia… or really anything!), it happened that our host was the eminent Mongolian lama Guru Deva Rinpoché. Guru Deva had been at the heart of revival and preservation of Inner Asian monasticism for decades; first in the Tibetan diaspora in India during the 1960s, then in Nepal, and then, after 1991, in Mongolia. In the 1970s, Guru Deva Rinpoché had collected and published the seventeen-volume Collected Works (Tib. Gsung ‘bum) of Zava Damdin from his exile base in Kathmandu.

When I arrived in Ulaanbaatar in 2006, Guru Deva Rinpoché’s residence was a throughway for hundreds of people involved in reviving Buddhist institutions and public ritual traditions in Mongolia and the PRC, from visiting Tibetan lamas to sumo wrestlers, endless streams of monks and lay people, and funders and patrons from across Asia. One of the most prominent members of this entourage was a monk named Luwsandarjaa, considered to be the current incarnation of Zava Damdin. During that summer and over five or six subsequent trips, I spent a great deal of time with this lama and his monks in apartment temples in Ulaanbaatar, at his revived Gobi monastery, and in many town halls, grasslands, and sandy ruins across the Gobi all the way to the Chinese border.

“A religious ritual begins, Ulaanbaatar (1930s).(Digital copies of glass plate negatives preserved in the Archives for Cinema, Photography, and Sound Recording, Mongolia [1910s-1950]. EAP264/1/9/6/111.)

Appropriately enough, I suppose, I learned about Zava Damdin’s revolutionary-era historical writing from his current incarnation. During my first two visits, his community was widely distributing a modern Cyrillic Mongolian translation of his predecessor’s verse history of Mongolian Buddhism and world history from c. 1910 entitled the Sounding of the Auspicious Dharma Conch (Tib. Bkra shis chos dung bzhad pa’i sgra dbyangs). Though I had been studying classical Tibetan and Mongolian for a while at that point, in these early years I had not yet discovered the extent of Zava Damdin’s surviving writing, never mind the breadth of their content. That would take many, many (many) years of reading and translating. In the meantime, I completed a Master’s thesis based on ethnographic research about the Buddhist revival in the Gobi and then, for my doctoral studies, I turned to historical anthropology and spent several years reading and translating two or three of Zava Damdin’s histories. At that time my interest was not in the social history of knowledge of the late-and post-Qing, but in theoretical conversations about “non-Western historiography.”

Once I began my current job after graduate school, I spent a couple more years reading what amounts to about two thousand pages of Zava Damdin’s historical writing from c. 1900-1931 and two thousand more pages of autobiographical writing from c. 1910-1936. Collectively, I finally realized, these works contained an absolutely unique expression of scholastic interpretations of the Qing collapse and the rise of revolutionary modernism in Asia’s heartland. Inspired by works such as Carlo Ginzburg’s The Cheese and the Worms and formed by exchanges at Duke University and in a meeting at Chiangmai during a yearlong SSRC InterAsian fellowship, I decided to try and use Zava Damdin’s writing as the basis for a revisionist, even radical, microhistory of the Qing-socialist transition in Inner Asia and, more broadly, a critique of modernist presumptions beholden to the national subject in the plotting of post-imperial history in Eurasia. The sum of that exploration is Ocean of Milk, Ocean of Blood.

  • Your book points out that living and writing in Asia’s first socialist state in the early twentieth century, Zava Damdin’s Buddhist worldview was challenged by new ideologies inspired by Marx, Lenin, and Western sciences that saw the Buddhist institution as a “lama problem.” What was this perceived “problem” and the proposed “solutions” to it?

Against the enduring authority of the Qing-era Buddhist religious establishment, the fledgling socialist state in Mongolia (1921-1990) remained contingent; it occupied a liminal position between enacting direct military action against Buddhist monasteries and having the authority to impose the rule of law. A fundamental problem facing this first project at socialist state building in Asia was glossed by revolutionary cadres at the time as the “lama question” (Kh. Mong. lam narin asuudal).[1] While early revolutionary leaders worked closely with monastic leaders such as Zava Damdin, or else were themselves prominent Buddhist monks and lay Buddhist literati, the majority of monasteries and their elite prelates opposed the centrifugal forces of reform advanced by the government. Examples of reform initiatives range from public health campaigns and staging European theatre for (apparently unimpressed) rural Mongols, to secular education, Mongolian language publication, industrialization of agriculture, and taxing the rich monastic estates. Such reforms failed to provoke a mass awakening of class consciousness; the number of monks actually grew over the course of the 1920s and early 1930s.

“A view of Ganden monastery and its surrounding area, Ulaanbaatar.(Digital copies of glass plate negatives preserved in the Archives for Cinema, Photography, and Sound Recording, Mongolia [1910s-1950]. EAP264/1/9/2/71.)

At Stalin’s infamous behest in the 1937, General Choibalsan and the party leadership in Mongolia decided the enduring weakness of the socialist state and the enduring strength of monastic estates required a turn to legalized violence. In just over a year, at least 40,000 monks and other “counter-revolutionaries” were tried and shot. Hundreds of thousands more were imprisoned or disrobed. Mongolia’s over 700 monastic complexes and temples were reduced to rubble save three. Here was the final, blunt answer to the “lama question.”

  • How did Zava Damdin respond to these conversations and ruptures following “Asia’s first modern revolution” (coined by historian Urgunge Onon) in his Buddhist writings? What were his major topics of concern?

Though Zava Damdin was memorialized in Soviet-era histories as a unique, modernist outlier of an otherwise counter-revolutionary monastic establishment (because, they decided, he had adopted scientific methods in his historical writing), and though current revivalists in Mongolia remember him as a master of the imperial-era monastic tradition, my research shows that neither are true. During the Qing-socialist transition (c. 1900-1936), Zava Damdin and his conservative and trans-Asian milieu of monks and Chinggisid nobility understood their times in terms neither of the Qing nor the just invented revolutionary national subject.

“Zava Damdin, alias ‘The Spiritual Friend Who Please Mañjughoṣa’ (‘Jam dbyangs dgyes pa’i bshes gnyen).”(Blo-bzaṅ-rta-mgrin, Zhongguo Xi Bei Wen Xian Cong Shu / v. 143-157. 西北少数民族文字文獻; Byaṅ Phyogs Hor Gyi Yul Du Dam Pa’i Chos Rin Po Che “Byuṅ Tshul Gyi Gtam Rgyud Bkra Śis Chos Duṅ Dźad Pa”i Sgra Dbyaṅs, vol. 150 (Lanzhou: Zhongguo Lanzhou: Lanzhou gu ji shu dian, 1990), 25.)

In general, the conservative nobility and monastic elites such as Zava Damdin were overwhelmingly concerned with preserving the integrity and centrality of monasticism in revolutionary Inner Asia; over the course of the eighteenth and nineteenth century, monastic networks became not only the major sedentary institution across eastern Tibet, all Mongolian societies, and Siberia, but also the dominant, nearly singular, site of medicine, literacy, printing, artistic production, and, of course, ritualism and philosophy.  However, in a more interesting and fundamental sense, what was at stake for Zava Damdin and his increasingly embattled milieu was the very mechanism of history and sovereignty itself: contact (Tib. mjal) with purifying, always masculine centers of social, political, and religious reproduction. Here we get to the enduring cultural and social legacies of the Qing imperial formation in Inner Asia that exceeded its political endings. Here too, we find a landscape of social, political, and religious imagination erased by the hegemony of the national subject and state violence. It is this landscape, with all of its revisionist implications for disciplinary treatments of modernization in Asia’s heartland, that I have tried to reconstruct in Ocean of Milk, Ocean of Blood.

As part of this pressing work to write the Qing ruins into place and time, cosmopolitan monastic elites across the Tibeto-Mongolian-Siberian frontiers such as Zava Damdin were very concerned to engage newly globalized intellectual traditions arriving from Europe. For example, while polyglot frontier scholastics in eastern Tibet and Mongolia had long engaged European mathematics, astronomy, cartography, and art via Jesuits at the Qing court, Zava Damdin is one of the first, to my knowledge, to engage European humanism.  In the pages of a secular newspaper entitled Shine Toli (The New Mirror) that circulated in the Autonomous Period (1911-1919) and in engagements with scholars ranging from Russian Buddhologists,
German diplomats, a member of the Bakhtin Circle, Agvan Dorjiev, and the Thirteenth Dalai Lama, Zava Damdin and many other Mongolian monastic leaders deeply engaged European arts and sciences. Unlike revolutionary intellectuals, however, these trans-Inner Asian monastic thinkers used the human sciences to extend or subvert received monastic histories from the Qing and also to re-interpret historical and spatial representations in Indian canonical works as varied as the Kālacakra-tantra and the Abhidharma. While I cannot get into the details here, the main takeaway for the social history of knowledge in the region is that this engagement had far less to do with the scientism privileged by the new revolutionary state than with a long narrative and interpretive tradition of frontier scholasticism forged in the polyglot, boundary crossing Tibeto-Mongolian frontiers of the Qing Empire.

  • A really fascinating idea in the book is “enchantment,” which is something that Zava Damdin attempted to historicize in his life’s works. What does this unique historiographic vision tell us about Buddhist views of time and space?

In Ocean of Milk, Ocean of Blood I use “enchantment” in a specific sense to name the dominant object of historical writing in Inner Asian monastic historiography for much of the last millennia: enlightened agents (buddhas and bodhisattvas) appearing upon the human stage in the bodies of monastic leaders and temporal rulers. This was a centuries-long project along the Sino-Tibetan-and Mongolian interface to historicize the enchantment of Eurasia. The event of history, the object of monastic historiography, was the periodic intervention of enlightened buddhas in the guise of emperors, khans, and monks upon the human stage. The result, as they saw it, was the abundance of social and salvific possibility manifest in forms as diverse as literacy, just law, sacred violence, and, of course, Buddhist monasticism and the promotion of
Buddhist forms of self-and community-cultivation. Turkic, Mongol, Tibetan, Chinese, and Indian communities were known in relation to one another through this lens; and in the early twentieth century treated by my book, so too was the collapse of the Qing and Tsarist Empire, the invasion of Tibet by the British, and the rise of revolutionary nationalism across Asia’s heartland. This orientation to place and time as moved by contact between enlightened
and human actors was, more pragmatically, a dominant language of diplomacy and, during the Qing Empire especially, a way of projecting imperial authority into the Inner Asian frontiers. This was articulated in the “Two Systems” model of a unified religious and political authority (Tib. lugs gnyis, chos srid zung ‘brel; Mong. qoyar yosu). The Two Systems was for Zava Damdin, as it had been for his monastic predecessors, perfected in the Qing-Géluk partnership according to a well-worn model in his late-imperial scholastic tradition. This was a golden age which he referred to regularly as the rising tide of a life-giving “ocean of milk” (Tib. ‘o ma’i rgya mtsho) sweeping across Eurasia’s heartland.

  • The other equally fascinating idea in the book is “disenchantment,” which is when Zava Damdin’s enchanting historiography becomes overtaken by “post-Qing anxiety.” What do his critiques of the disenchantment of post-imperial Inner Asia tell us about Buddhist views of modernity?

In the ruins of the Qing, Zava Damdin’s unenviable task was to “clarify” (Tib. gsal) and “order” (Tib. bkod) his revolutionary times. Occasionally he sought only to appropriately name (Tib. zer) ruptured temporalities, territories, communities, sovereignties, and religiosities. The range of his intellectual interests were vast, ranging from Chinese history to European mechanical sciences and astronomy, yet in all his writing he remained primarily focused on diagnosing the causes and conditions of what was elsewhere being called the revolutionary modern, but which he referred to regularly simply as a toxic, life-denying “ocean of blood” (Tib. khrag gi rgya mtsho).

“Delgeriin Choira, revived Gobi monastery of Zava Damdin near contemporary Delgertsogt, Dundgovi Province.” (photo by Matthew King).

My book contains an extensive presentation of Zava Damidin’s alternative historicization of not just Inner Asian but global history. I won’t give it away here, but in a general Zava Damdin and his trans-Asian milieu understood the Qing collapse as the product of events in 19th century Yeke-yin Küriy-e (modern Ulaanbaatar) and Beijing. After decades of investigation, Zava Damdin determined that the violence and upheavals of socialist state building around him were only symptoms of a grander world historical narrative of decline (one marked also by the authority of scientific empiricism and rule by the masses). Though deeply engaged with revolutionary forces and state narratives, Zava Damdin and his otherwise silent milieu  set the post-Qing world into time, place, and community without any reference to the empty, homogenous time of the nation, for example, or to contact with Europe as marking an epochal transition to modernity in Asia.

  • As you have argued in the book, the historiography of modern Inner Asia has overwhelmingly been driven by state-centric narratives and archives that tend to neatly organize the imperial period and its aftermath into stories of modernization. In addition, you also argue “that the situation is made worse by disciplinary fault lines in the professional study of social, political, and religious history along the Tibeto-Russian-Chinese-Mongolian interface…” So, how would Zava Damdin’s writings and other similar Buddhist responses to modernity offer a corrective to these issues?

I have much to say on this! (Much more than is possible to even summarize here.) Very briefly, my position in this book and in my broader scholarship on the social history of knowledge in the throughways of late-and post-imperial Inner Asia is that the story of modernization is organized too neatly between the imperial period and its aftermath, between Mongolian and Tibetan (and Chinese and European) sources and traditions, between the national subject and what it excludes, and between the arrival of the “modern”—progress, self-mastery, social emancipation, science, technology, socialism, academic institutions, democracy, Europe—and the retreat of the “traditional”—stasis, superstition, other-mastery, suppression, folk tradition, Buddhism and shamanism, scholasticism, monastic institutions, feudalism, Asia.

Such dualisms, like the West/Nonwest binary, the neutrality of the secular humanist gaze, or the modernist staging of the West as site and source of universal knowledge and History—are simply not tenable. For example, in the case study I examine in Ocean of Milk, Ocean of Blood, the social imagination and active lives of the majority of monastics across Inner Asia cannot be emplotted in the self-descriptive language of a state. Erstwhile cosmologies guided monastic lives during the modern formation of Inner Asia, yet we still know so little about them. Zava Damdin’s oeuvre is just one telling case study, remarkable not necessarily because of its content but because of being recorded and surviving a century of violence.   Here is a vast landscape of social and religious imagination quite apart from what is recorded in state archives, reducible to neither tradition nor the modern, religion, science, monasticism, feudalism, or revolutionary progress.

Endnotes

[1] Here I recommend Christopher Kaplosnki’s 2014 monograph The Lama Question: Violence, Sovereignty, and Exception in Early Socialist Mongolia, about state strategies adopted by the people’s party to advance their claim to sovereignty through the analytical frame of Agamben’s use of the Roman legal concept of homo sacer; an exclusionary politics founded on legal exceptionalism and required state violence in perpetual states of emergency.

 

Vera Zaporozhskaya – Scholar of Siberia, by Elena Okladnikova, (Herzen University) translated by Richard Bland (University of Oregon)

Editor’s introduction:

This special blog post was translated and shared with us by Dr. Richard Bland, currently a Research Analyst the University of Oregon Museum of Natural and Cultural History, who has translated a wide variety of volumes and materials related to Russian and Soviet archeology, including the biography of Aleksei P. Okladnikov, well-known archeologist of Soviet Siberia.  The material presented here was written by Dr. Elena Okladnikova, the daughter of Okladnikov and herself a Professor of Sociology and Religious Studies at Herzen State Pedagogical University of Russia in St. Petersburg.

This blog presents an excerpt of Okladnikova’s original biographical article “V.D. Zaporozhskaya: Scholar of Siberia: The Gendered Aspect of a Personal History” – the original Russian version was published in 2017 in Women in Russian Society 3 (84): 80-92, and was translated by R. Bland in 2019.  That full text details the professional biography of Vera Dmitrievna Zaporozhskaya, the wife of Okladnikov, and mother of Okladnikova. Zaporozhskaya was herself a prolific archeological researcher, scientific artist, and photographer, who documented many Russian archeological expeditions in Siberia and Central Asia in the 1930s and 1940s, and who provided illustrations and design for the many volumes published on those projects (several of which are listed here below).  It is important to recognize that while certain scholars were credited for those works, in fact these are the efforts of teams of talented individuals.

We would encourage our readers to consider this personal biography in understanding the rich tradition of historical archeological research in Soviet Central Asia and Siberia, and to read alongside contemporary research on similar Paleolithic sites from Altai to Transbaikal, which informs our understanding of hominid migration across the region.

Kolobova, Kseniya A., et. al. (2020) “Archeological Evidence for two separate dispersals of Neanderthals into southern Siberia.”  PNAS 117(6). https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1918047117

Kuzmin, Yaroslav V. (2007) “Chronological Framework of the Siberian Paleolithic: Recent Achievements and Future Directions.” Radiocarbon 49(2): 757 – 766.

Li, Feng, et. al.  (2019)  “Heading north: Late Pleistocene environments and human dispersals in central and eastern Asia.”  PLOS 14(5).  doi: 10.1371/journal.pone.0216433

Rybin, Evgeny. (2014).  “Tools, beads, and migrations: Specific cultural traits in the Initial Upper Paleolithic of Southern Siberia and Central Asia.” Quaternary International 347(1).  DOI: 10.1016/j.quaint.2014.04.031

***

Vera Dmitrievna Zaporozhskaya was born (30 September 1912) in Chita, Russia, her childhood and youth was spent in Irkutsk. After graduation from high school in 1928 she entered the Irkutsk Art College, which at that time was directed by the well-known in Siberian artist and teacher I. L. Kopylov, who first noticed her artistic talent. As early as her years of study at the college, Vera Dmitrievna felt her mission was to become a theater artist. She settled into work at the Irkutsk Regional Museum, where her father worked as a glazier. She worked in the museum from 1932 to 1933 as deputy director of the art gallery (Fig. 1). It was in the museum that she met a talented archaeologist, head of the Paleolithic Department, A. P. Okladnikov. Their wedding took place in June 1932. To her mother, who was then staying with relatives in Donetsk, Vera Dmitrievna sent a brief telegram: “Married, bless me, Vera.” [i] (Fig. 2).

Figure 1. Personal data sheet of V. D. Zaporoshskaya in the account of personnel. Yakutsk, Science-Research Institute of Language, Literature, and History. (Author’s archive, St. Petersburg, 2017).

Figure 4. V. D. Zaporozhskaya and A. P. Okladnikov. Irkutsk, 1932. (Author’s archive, St. Petersburg, 2017).

In 1933 she went to Leningrad with her husband, who entered graduate school at the State Academy of History of Material Culture (GAIMK) oriented toward “The History of Pre-Capitalistic Societies.” She was able to do much in these years: she entered the Academy of Fine Arts, then went to the school for lab work at the State Hermitage under the direction of the outstanding archaeologist M. P. Gryaznov; she also worked as a laboratory technician at the State Academy of Material Culture (GAIMK). At GAIMK Vera Dmitrievna finished courses for bookkeepers and accountants, as well as learning the art of documentary photography. From 1933 she worked in the Hermitage in the Department of the History of Pre-Capitalistic Society, and from 1936 to 1941 at the Institute of Material Culture. She completed archaeological courses at the Academy of Sciences and received the rank of Junior Researcher. As an artist in those years she helped to design scientific works and journals.[ii]

All spring-summer-fall seasons in the 1930s she and her husband spent on expeditions, organized at first by the Irkutsk Regional Museum, then by GAIMK. The materials from these investigations were the basis of work in the archaeological study of regions for future construction: the Angara, Ust’-Ilim, and Bratsk hydroelectric stations. The archaeological materials obtained were the basis of the books that were written then by V. D. Zaporozhskaya and A. P. Okladnikov. [iii] In 1939 she and her husband discovered the presently world-famous Buret’ site. There they found the unique image of Paleolithic Venus—an anthropomorphic bone figurine in fur coveralls. It was Vera Dmitrievna who sketched the finds at Buret’, drew the plans of the dwellings, and conducted photographing of this unique Paleolithic site (Fig. 3).


Figure 3. V. D. Zaporozhskaya and A. P. Okladnikov at excavations in Buret’, Angara, 1939 (Author’s archive, 2017).

Zaporozhskaya took an active part in field work for the study of Neolithic and Eneolithic burials in the Angara region, that is, in search of the “first Americans,” as called by the American anthropologist Aleš Hrdlička, who met V. D. Zaporozhskaya and A. P. Okladnikov on the Angara in 1939.That is where the artistic talent of Vera Dmitrievna and her sharp scholarly intuition were useful. In those years she masterfully executed the now classic reconstruction of the clothing of peoples of the Angara Neolithic period, included in all the textbooks on the history of the culture of peoples of Siberia. Its reconstruction is a brilliant example of integrated historical-artistic research: in costume are represented decorations of nephrite and mother-of-pearl fangs of Siberian deer, complementing the cut of the clothing, which combined the “Tungus frock” and the Tungus apron (Fig 4).

Figure 4: “Reconstruction of the decorated costume of a female shaman”, found at the burial site, published as drawing #175 in Okladnikov, 1955b.

The 1938 field season, and also seasons of the first post-war years, Zaporozhskaya spent in Central Asia, on the archaeological crew of her husband. The purpose of the work of this crew of the interdisciplinary archaeological expedition of M. E. Masson was the study of the Stone Age. It was in this expedition that the burial of a Neanderthal boy was discovered by Zaporozhskaya and Okladnikov. Publication of this find became the stellar hour in the scientific career of A. P. Okladnikov. In the post-war years Zaporozhskaya took part in archaeological study of the Turkmen deserts, in the discovery of a Mesolithic burial near Kailyu Cave, in the Neolithic “jewelry workshop” near Kuba-Sengir Mountain, and in excavations at Dam-Dam Chemshe Cave.

From 1941 to 1943 she worked in Yakutsk in the regional museum, and then from 1943 to 1945 in Yakutsk in the Science-Research Institute of Language, Literature, and History (Fig. 5). In her autobiography dated to 1945 she wrote that she participated in eleven archaeological expeditions (Fig. 6). On 8 March 1945, by order No. 46 of the Science-Research Institute of Language, Literature, and History, as an artist and archaeologist of the Lena Archaeological Expedition, she was awarded acknowledgment “for good production work.”[1]

Figure 5. V. D. Zaporozhskaya. Yakutsk, 1945 (Author’s archive, St. Petersburg, 2017).

[insert Figure 6.  These expeditions and sites were described in Okladnikov and Beregovaya, with forward by Okladnikova and translated by Richard Bland (2008).

In the 1940s, V. D. Zaporozhskaya and A. P. Okladnikov conducted field work in the Arctic. She spent six years on expeditions on the Lena River. This delicate woman “with a classic figure and long braid”[iv] paddled thousands of kilometers, that is, all the way from Kachuga village on the upper Lena to Tiit-Ary Island on the lower Lena. She learned to manage the sail, to feel the flow of the great Siberian river, to withstand bad weather and the “nizovka”—a treacherous wind that drags the boat not down but up the river. She infused much spiritual and intellectual force into her husband’s major work, Istoriya Yakutii [The History of Yakutia]:[v] she sketched, drew, photographed, made plans of excavations, and kept a field log. She and her husband jointly studied the winter camp of the first Russian mariners on Cape Baranov (Taimyr 1948), where she, as usual, participated in the excavation, was occupied with photo-recording the finds, and fearlessly carried out field processing of the finds while being constantly watched by hungry polar bears.

Zaporozhskaya was occupied with archaeological research in Kolyma and Tadzhikistan (1948), again returning to the Angara and Lena (1951), and working in Zabaikal’e [Transbaikal] (1947–1951). Up to the last days of her life, she was immersed preparing for publication of the large, now classic investigations of the rock art of Siberia and the Far East—Petroglify Srednei Leny [Petroglyphs of the Middle Lena], Petroglify Nizhnego Amura [Petroglyphs of the Lower Amur], and Petroglify Zabaikal’ya [Petroglyphs of Transbaikal]. On New Year’s Eve 1959/60 in the Leningrad apartment on Nevsky Prospect, V. D. Zaporozhskaya inscribed a dedication on the title page of the joint (with her husband) monograph Lenskie pisanitsy [Lena’s Writings]: “This book, Alyosha, I give to you—your inexhaustible creative flame, brilliant thought and boldness. Everything that I did in archeology, all this was done only for you. The pages of this book contain so much that is so dear to me, and to you. Preserve it. Vera. 31/12/1959.” [vi]  These lines can become the epigraph to this article. In them openly and clearly rings the declaration of this bright and talented woman in her love for her husband, archaeology, and sites of the ancient art of the peoples of Siberia.

In the 1970s and 1980s she became one of the leading organizers of the Museum of History and Culture of the Peoples of Siberia, Institute of History, Philology and Philosophy, Siberian Branch, Academy of Sciences, USSR.

References:

Michael, Henry N. 1970.  Yakutia Before Its Incorporation into the Russian State(A translation of A.P. Okladnikov’s History of Yakutia 1950[1955].  McGill-Queen’s University Press.

Okladnikov, A. P. 1955a.  Неолит т Бронзобый век Прибайкалья. Издательство Академии Наук, СССР.

Okladnikov, A. P. 1955b.  Материалы и Исследовании по Археологии СССР.  Издательство Академии Наук, СССР.

Okladnikov, A.P. and N. A. Beregovaya. 2008.  The Early Sites of Cape Baranov. (translated by Richard L. Bland).  Shared Beringian Heritage Program.

Endnotes

[1] Author’s archive, St. Petersburg, 2017.

[i] The materials described through this excerpt are contained at the time of writing in the author’s own archive in St. Petersburg, and are cited here with permission.

[ii] Author’s archive, St. Petersburg, 2017.

[iii] These texts were usually published with Okladnikov as author (e.g. 1955a, 1955b).

[iv] Author’s archive, St. Petersburg, 2017.

[v] Okladnikov’s Istoriya Yakutii [The History of Yakutia was published in 1950, republished in 1955, and was translated into English and republished as Yakutia Before Its Incorporation into the Russian State by Henry N. Michael in 1970.

[vi] Author’s archive, 1980s.

Becoming an activist scholar: towards more politically engaged and socially accountable research practices in Central Asian studies, by Mohira Suyarkulova (American University of Central Asia)

Editor’s note:  Here we present the full text of one of the invited key note speeches at this year’s annual conference, which was held at George Washington University in October 2019.  We thank Mohira Suyarkulova for her permission to reprint this transcript of the speech here.

Becoming an activist scholar

It is a great honour and privilege for me to be here today and have this opportunity to address a room full of ‘Central Asianists’, people who have dedicated a significant period of their lives, their intellectual capacities and passions to the study of the region I call home.  I myself embody the dual identity of a Central Asian and a ‘Central Asianist’, a native researcher, a kind of a self-referential scholar, socialised and trained through a combination of home schooling and academic migrations.  I am a Central Asian in a truly transnational sense – in that I was born in Tajikistan, from where my family had to leave during the civil war. We then migrated to the hometown of my maternal grandparents – Bukhara – and then to Tashkent, the capital of the newly independent Uzbekistan, where I went to a Turkish high school and completed two years of undergraduate studies at the University of World Economy and Diplomacy; I then received a George Soros-funded scholarship to become an exchange student in Vermont for a year, and then transferred to the American University of Central Asia in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan. My postgraduate studies were all in the United Kingdom at St Andrews University, where Will famously met Kate. During my masters’ year funded by a Chevening scholarship, my family back in Uzbekistan were subjected to background checks and told they did not qualify for Uzbek citizenship – our citizenship was revoked, passports taken away, new identities of ‘persons without citizenship’ issued.  Since then I have received a Russian citizenship, and while the rest of my closest family members now reside in Kaliningrad (a curious geopolitical exclave of Russia wedged between Poland and Lithuania), I have moved back to Bishkek, where I teach at my alma mater. (I am telling you this personal life story not because my life has been extraordinary, but because it reflects some of the processes and events in the region which I tried to reflect on in my research.) My move to Bishkek for the second time signified another watershed moment in my life – I became an activist.

Illustration of the author, by Michael Feaux.

In this talk, based on my personal journey as a researcher, teacher and activist living and working in/on Central Asia, I will share my reflections on whether and how research done in and on the region of ‘Central Asia’ has an emancipatory potential.  Born out of the orientalist tradition and Cold War rivalry, and resurrected as part of the War on Terror, can area studies serve the interests of the “wretched of the earth”? Who is an academic accountable to? How can we engage in a more responsible intellectual labour under the conditions of permanent crises and precarity? What is at stake when we ask certain questions and pledge our energies to specific intellectual pursuits? These are some of the dilemmas that I would like to invite my fellow Central Asianists to reflect on.

When I received the invitation to give this keynote address, I had to fight an urge to decline due to a nasty flare-up of a condition called “imposter syndrome” – ‘chronic self-doubt and a sense of intellectual fraudulence’, which makes me feel inadequate and undeserving of the position I occupy, despite the external proof of success and competence I may get.  I spent the months since in constant anxiety, pondering possible topics, takes, arguments. Despite all the doubts and concerns I might have, the most pressing matter to me today is to talk about my transition from a native researcher to an activist scholar. I am a queer woman, a communist and a feminist and my research and teaching reflect my politics. I teach courses on critical theory, discourse analysis and theories of sexuality. I am also one of the founding member of the “Queer Academics AUCA” initiative at the university, which organises public talks and serves as a peer support group. When I wrote my short bio for the announcement of this talk I wondered if such public self-representation was a smart career move.  Will I be taken seriously, I asked myself.  Is my recent focus on the politics of gender and sexuality a professional suicide? In this talk I am in search of myself and the particular position I occupy within the field of social sciences and Central Asian studies by researching and teaching on gender and sexuality.

Four years ago Sarah Kendzior delivered a keynote address to the Central Eurasian Studies Society at Indiana University and entitled it “The Future of Central Asian Studies: A Eulogy”.  With striking clarity and precision, she identified the key issues at stake and mapped out the landscape of a field in a state of crisis. “Our field is a great example of how funding impacts knowledge, and how without money and jobs, research on a region declines. Our field is also a cautionary tale on the dangers of linking independent academic research to military intelligence, and what happens to scholars when the wars that indirectly fund their training end. And our field is also a fine example of the challenges of research in authoritarian states, and the limitations of what scholars can do in restricted information environments,” she said. While all of these still very much hold true, in my talk I would like to present a different set of challenges as they are seen by me as an activist scholar living and working in the region, albeit, admittedly, I occupy a rather privileged position residing in Bishkek, the San Francisco of Central Asia, while teaching at the region’s most liberal university.

Kath Weston in her book Long Slow Burn (1998) makes a case for placing the study of sexuality at the center of social sciences, reclaiming its historical influence in shaping the intellectual foundations of all social science disciplines as we know them.  She argues that the formative debates in many a social science discipline relied on examples from the ‘realm’ of sexuality: “… consider, for one, that eminently contemporary and highly contentious debate on reflexivity in social science. As researchers ponder whether or not to use “I” in their work, they are in effect, grappling with aspects of cultural categories (narcissism, confession, self-indulgence, kiss-and-tell) that have become parcelled off, boxed up, and increasingly marketed under the rubric of sex” (4).

Billboard on a street in Bishkek reading ‘Folks, where are we going?'” Source: Kaktus.media

For all the attention recently garnered by studies of gender and sexuality in Central Asia (as evidenced, among other things, by the programme of CESS conferences in recent years), this subject remains marginalised and viewed as a soft-touch area of knowledge. Inspired by Weston’s call to overcome the ghettoization of the study of gender and sexuality in the social sciences, I want to also emphasize that one can never ‘just’ study gender and sexuality in a neat separation from the ‘bread-and-butter’ issues of concern to the social sciences/Central Asian studies – history, class, ethnicity, race, diaspora, migration, environment, urban politics, religion, electoral behaviour, community mobilisation, to name a few. Once you start deploying the gender and sexuality sensitive optics, you begin to perceive a myriad of phenomena and events in a new light.

My own work since I completed my PhD on Tajik-Uzbek relations in 2011 has evolved to examine the less ‘hard-core’ yet no less complex intersections of nationalism, gender and sexuality and dress, urban life, sociality and human-environment interactions. Nationalist movements in Central Asia have constructed certain conceptions of authenticity, pride and autonomy on the backs of local women and gender-and-sexually-variant-and-noncomforming people. Dress modestly. Clothe yourself to swim. No talking to men who are not mahram/ men of other ethnicities. Behave like a man. Control your women. I am interested in uncovering how these gendered beliefs and practices are implicated in larger structures of oppression, and whether and how a radical change is possible.

My contention is that not only do such studies enrich our field with invaluable empirical materials, but also that significant theoretical insights and methodological advances can be made. Most importantly, critical studies of gender and sexuality bear emancipatory potentiality – they are already generating a possibility of praxis – a process whereby theories and knowledge gained through research are enacted, embodied and realised through action aimed at advocacy, community mobilisation, education and political direct action.  Gender and sexuality scholarship in and on Central Asia is a budding curious “assemblage of paradigmatically dissimilar studies and academic practices” (Kondakov 2016, p. 114). As Alexander Kondakov beautifully put it in relation to the field of queer studies in Russia (but which also applies to Central Asian scholars of gender and sexuality),“It is activism and science at the same time, but even more, it is love in the form of scholarship” (115).

I am by no means a lone warrior in this army of lovers. I am preceded by pioneers of the field such as Marriane Kamp, Adrienne Lynne Edgar, Deniz Kendiyoti, Anna Temkina, Douglas Northrop and Collette Harris.  More recently, Juliette Clezou, Lucia Derenberg, Aksana Ismailbekova, Diana Kudaibergenova, Sophie Roche, Julie McBrien, Cai Wilkinson, and many others have made invaluable contributions. And walking along with me are faithful comrades, whose faces and names I recognise not only from the seminar rooms, conference halls and article pages, but who have been engaged in feminist and LGBTQ organising and activism in Central Asia –  Anara Moldosheva, Mehrigul Ablezova, Altyn Kapalova, Syinat Sultanalieva,  Zhanar Sekerbaeva, Dilya Mamadshoeva, Elena Kim, Nina Bagdasarova, Asel Myrzabekova, Georgy Mamedov, Joanna Hoare, and Anna Kirey.

Yet, though I do not feel lonely and isolated in my intellectual pursuits, the context my fellow gender and sexuality scholars function in is far from nurturing and encouraging. John D’Emilio once wrote in reference to university professors’ stance on LGBTQ issues, “Having been granted the extraordinary privilege of thinking critically as a way of life, we should be astute enough to recognize when a group of people is being systematically mistreated” (quoted in Kondakov 2016:108). This is not the case in Kyrgyzstan, supposedly the most liberal of the Central Asian states, and certainly not true for the rest of the countries in the region.  In many institutions of higher learning and research centers in Central Asia, the scholars fear the consequences of speaking out of turn and engage in self-censorship. Some even appoint themselves as mouthpieces of the ruling ideology, purporting to speak on behalf of the ‘common people’ and ‘national interest’.

It would be easy to label Central Asian scholars as belonging to either ‘Eastern’ or ‘Western’ camp, according to the place of their employment, their educational background, their working languages, where they publish their research and the names of the authors they cite in their texts. However, such classification would not be an accurate reflection of the complex institutional politics and contradictory personal positionings of individual scholars within these configurations of power and ideologies. Unfortunately, a PhD from a prestigious western university is not a very good predictor of one’s politics, as evidenced by one recent encounter I had with a professor at AUCA, who accused a former colleague of having ‘openly promoted LGBT among students’.  This was dropped into the conversation casually as an example of how one must not teach gender studies at the university during a discussion of a gender studies concentration offered to the students of the Liberal Arts department of the university.  The exact wording of this ‘casual’ remark in Russian was ‘открыто пропагандировал ЛГБТ’, which is a direct reference of the homophobic law adopted in the Russian Federation in 2013.

The ‘gay propaganda’ norm in Russia outlawed any positive or neutral discussion of the issue of homosexuality among minors. Propaganda of ‘non-traditional sexual relations’ bill framed homosexuality as a menace to the whole nation brough from outside. Essentially, it gave a licence to discriminate against the LGBTQ people, has led to the dramatic increase in hate crimes and violence crimes against non-heterosexual and gender noncomforming people (Kondakov 2017).

A similar bill was proposed by some members of Kyrgyz parliament in 2014, but it went even further than the Russian version – criminalising any positive depictions of homosexuality regardless of the age of the audiences.  If passed, the law would amount to outlawing the work of LGBTQ organisations and would send to prison anyone who dared discuss this matter publicly.  A coalition of civil society actors united in opposition to the bill, galvanised further due to the fact that the ‘gay propaganda’ bill was being pushed through in conjuction with a sister-bill (also plagiarised from a Russian counterpart) on ‘foreign agents’ that in reality targetted all NGOs.  Although, thankfully, the bill has not been passed (it has been stuck in the pipeline after the second reading and no one has so far tried to resurrect it), it still has had a negative impact on the lives of LGBTQ people in Kyrgyzstan.

Despite not being an official law of the land, the homophobic norm already exists in the minds of people who enforce it in their interpersonal and professional relationships, leading to fear and (self-)censorship.  So now, even though I have a legitimate reason and right to discuss LGBTQ issues in my classroom and in my research, I can easily be labelled as having an agenda/engaging in propaganda, thus threatening my employment status and future. This is a case of a law which doesn’t exist becoming a part of the transnational shared media field and shaping everyday social relations and institutional arrangements. Despite bearing the proud title of an ‘associate professor’, I am not tenured or on a tenure-track, and like most of my colleagues I have a one-year contract, which means it is extremely easy for the administration to terminate my employment.  Along with many other academics in the world, I am part of the growing class of precariat.

Nevertheless, feminists and queers have persisted and the past several years have been remarkably prolific.  Despite the increased vigilantism and violence of nationalist groups, paranoia of the authorities, police harassment, secret services’ surveillance and the media hype that accompanied and followed the debates regarding the ‘propaganda’ bill, the past several years have been really productive. For instance, Labrys, one of the region’s oldest LGBTQ organisations (founded in 2004), succeeded in advocating for the adoption of a manual for medical and social workers regarding assistance for transgender people. This means that people are no  longer required to undergo surgery in order to receive new identity documents.

Image from the call for applications to become a co-researcher in the participatory action study of LGBTQ lives in Bishkek (Labrys 2018) led by Mohira Suyarkulova.

Additionally, Central Asia has entered the European chapters of international LGBT organisations and advocacy groups like ILGA-Europe, TGEU and EL*C.  This means that now the region is viewed as part of the same political field as European and Caucasian former Soviet republics, aligning with the existing activist networks and funding streams. Initiative groups in other Central Asian countries, where it is impossible to officially register a feminist or LGBT organisation and to work openly, get supported by their Kyrgyz counterparts, who serve as fiscal sponsors, with Bishkek being the regional hub for training and meetings. Local LGBT organisations run community centers and a shelter, engage in hidden advocacy as well as open political action.

There is a sense of pride of what we have been through and what we have managed to accomplish despite the odds. And although international support and solidarity are key, local activists have increasingly sought to articulate specifically Central Asian agendas and visions, resisting the homogenizing influences of global identity politics whereby the loudest voices and concerns tend to be those of North American and Western European counterparts.  People in activist circles who have access to resources and educational opportunities have already started to write the history of the local feminist and LGBT movement through their PhD dissertation and publications. Yet once again, such opportunities are usually found far away from Central Asia and often do not reach the audiences they concern the most.

We want to write our own history and empower our communities through research and education. One such project is the ongoing participatory action study of sexual lives of LGBTQ people in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, which I designed and led.  The study started in 2018 and involved co-researchers recruited from among the LGBTQ people in Bishkek, who were trained in research methods and conducted over 90 in-depth biographical interviews with their peers. The purpose of the study was to create a sex education curriculum that reflects the experiences and needs of LGBTQ people in Kyrgyzstan, not simply reproduce the heteronormative medicalised view of our sexuality. We have now transcribed over one hundred hours of audio recordings. The resulting data set is a unique archive of queer lives in Kyrgyzstan, which will become the basis for assessment of the needs of the community, inclusive and sensitive sex education curriculum, and advocacy efforts.

The study has already resulted in a series of public sessions on queer sex ed at a community center, which I teach each month.  Every lesson starts with a set of direct quotations from the interviews, we pose questions about our relationships, bodies, desires, practices and families, and I take my audience on a journey through the ideas and concepts I discovered when reviewing existing literature. These sessions have proven to be among the most popular and well-attended events at the community center. It has definitely been the most fulfilling teaching experience for me. We plan to make the knowledge generated by the project accessible as a book and/or a website.

Another noteworthy event took place this year in Bishkek. In collaboration with AUCA’s Center for Critical Gender Studies, Labrys organised a conference dedicated to LGBT lives and politics in Central Asia. My comrade Georgy Mamedov and myself were the connecting links between these two institutions and the chief organisers of the conference, as we are both AUCA faculty and LGBTQ activists (Georgy is the Chairman of Labrys’s board, while I am a member of the General Assembly of the organisation, also having worked in their Advocacy and Education Programme).  The conference title was “В теме”.  Non-heterosexual and gender nonconforming people in Kyrgyzstan mostly refer to themselves and others in the community as tema or v teme (Russian, literally ‘theme’ and ‘in the theme’). This code-word means people “in the know” or those with the insider knowledge.  The word has many derivatives (temnyi, tematicheskii, temshchik, etc) and is primarily used to refer to specific modes of queer sociality rather than sexual identity, desire or practice (Mamedov 2018). This word is used pretty universally in the post-Soviet space, as opposed to the ‘LGBT’ used in activist circles and kvir used also by some activists, scholars and people from the contemporary art scene. We chose such title deliberately – as a prompt and a provocation to start a conversation about LGBTQ lives in Central Asia.

Open call for submissions to participate in symposium “In the Know: Sex, politics and life of LGBT people in Central Asia”, 22-23 march, 2019, AUCA.

The conference took place in the central forum of AUCA’s new building, with conference presenters speaking into a microphone, in Russian, their presentation slides and videos projected on the large screen, so that despite it being the spring break it was a visible event.  Additionally, the conference program was published on Labrys’ web page, where it was picked up by local journalists, who then reprinted on their sites.  This was an important intellectual and activist event (even if I say so myself), where leading scholars and activists from Central Asian countries, Russian provinces, Moldova and Ukraine, as well as established scholars like Dan Healey, Elena Gapova, Julie Cassiday and Olga Sasunkevich spoke. It was very different from the usual formats of conferences where LGBTQ issues are discussed, where the main focus in usually on HIV prevention, human rights and psychological well being. The above issues are of course of great importance, but they do not reflect the entirety of queer existence in Central Asia.

We believe that social life can be recorded and made sense of in a variety of ways, which is why we encouraged a variety of formats – not only academic presentations, but also works of art, performances, poetic, journalistic and activist notes from the field. We talked about recording and valorising local queer histories and history writing methods, about LGBTQ (auto)ethnographies of the region, about queer cultures and institutions, about the influence of the global LGBTQ politics and agendas on us, and about how we could go beyond the politics of identity that we are offered as the ‘bright future’.  The conference also featured a series of cultural side events, which were held at the local LGBT club “London”, as well as an exhibition and a fashion show at the university.

What was remarkable to us, however, is that the reactions of our colleagues to the event fell into one of two positions, both devaluing the intellectual merit of the event although each in its own way. The first type of reaction was easy to confuse with admiration or a compliment. It went something like “You are so brave! I did not think such a thing would be possible here.” The second reaction pointed out the contentious nature of the subject matter in either an overt or covert form – “It is such a sensitive issue” or “Why don’t you go and discuss these disgusting things behind closed doors and away from children.”  Further, the university administration received calls from the authorities and warned us that in the future we should coordinate (read, seek permission for) such events with them.  Such concern was justified by the complex political situation in the country. “We do not want jigits (lads) on horseback to come to the campus and destroy everything here,” the polite warning was.

Just a couple of weeks prior to the symposium, feminist and LGBTQ groups participated in the march dedicated to the International Women’s Day, which this year attracted a record number of participants and a lot of media attention, due in part to the attempts by nationalist groups, secret police and city authorities’ to ban it and stop it happening.  March organisers published a manifesto listing a broad range of social and political issues, yet the detractors of the march chose the age-old strategy of trying to discredit the movement by pointing out its links to the ‘gay agenda’.  One local newspaper front page headline read “Fags and lezzos staged a coven gathering in the center of Bishkek” with pictures of my comrades and myself posing with rainbow and trans flags.  This, however, once again brought media and public attention to the feminist and LGBTQ agenda – journalists sought comments, live TV shows broadcast debates between nationalists and feminists, and major news sites reprinted Labrys’ statement on “What do the LGBTQ people have to do with it? Why Labrys marches on the 8th of March”, which I authored.  As many activists jokingly noted after the homophbic bill was introduced back in 2014, the attempt to ban propaganda had become the greatest propaganda for the LGBT movement since it sparked a public discussion on the matter.  Likewise, attempts to stop the Women’s march and to smear the protest by calling it a ‘gay pride’ brought into the relief the invisibility of lesbian, bisexual, trans and queer women (even for the international and local organisations whose mandate includes the defense of the rights of all women) and the affinity between the causes of feminism and LGBTQ people. And since the authorities are likely to continue this tactic, we are likely to get even more attention in the future, which we should use to our advantage.

Women’s Day march, 8 March, 2019, Bishkek. Source: Kloop.kg

My intention is to continue to unapologetically engage in ‘propaganda’ in the classroom as well as outside of it.  We must recognise that our work as scholars is always already implicated in politics, whether we intend it to be or not.  Being deliberate and self-conscious about our political and social positionings is what sets apart critical scholarship.  We are all already engaged in some kind of propaganda – the question is not whether you engage in politics, but rather what are your politics. Yet it is usually only those politics that are challenging the status quo that become visible, while the established views are naturalised as eternal, universal and ‘common sense’.

So I would like to conclude this talk by echoing the call from previous generations of radical and critical scholars – for Central Asianists of the world to unite in a praxis – action or engagement upon the world that seeks to create emancipatory change.  Social scientists must aim their research at the alleviation of social problems and must make their results available and informative to the people they concern (Osmond 1983: 50). Marx gave us the legacy of praxis most famously in his eleventh thesis on Fuerbach: “Philosophers have only interpreted the world in various ways; the point is to change it”. This might not be an easy path to follow, I recognise that, but I believe it is the most meaningful and rewarding one.

i Mamedov, Georgy. 2018.  Unpublished conference paper, Indiana University.

Call for papers: SACRED GEOGRAPHY: MULTI-DISCIPLINARY APPROACHES IN SPACE AND TIME, Nazarbayev University

SACRED GEOGRAPHY: MULTI-DISCIPLINARY APPROACHES IN SPACE AND TIME

International Conference

Nazarbayev University, Nur-Sultan, Kazakhstan

September 24th to 26th, 2020

This conference aims to bring together multidisciplinary approaches, including in the fields of religious studies, cultural anthropology, archaeology, history among others, to sacred landscapes, religious sites, and spatial dimensions of religion. The conference is dedicated to any set of themes, regions, religious traditions, methodologies and technologies that advance the theoretical and analytical paradigms of space and place.

We are also interested in bringing together scholars from both the humanities and the social sciences who employ novel methodologies and collaborations in exploring the role of space and place in religious traditions.  Projects with a digital humanities or social science component including technologies such as photogrammetry, e-Atlases, mapping and GIS for conservation, pedagogy, and tourism would be welcome.

Call for Papers

We welcome individual papers, papers sessions, and roundtable proposals for topics exploring space and place as they relate to religion. We are particularly interested in papers and sessions that employ theoretically or methodologically self-conscious and innovative approaches to understanding space and place as they relate to, condition, and constitute aspects of religious life including: belief, ritual, meaning, aesthetics, and experience. We also welcome ethnographically-informed studies of sites and historically-informed studies of texts that shed light on the role of space and place in religious traditions.  We are interested in sessions on the following topics and questions that include but are not limited to:

  • Sacred Sites and the State
  • Conservation Ethics and Tourism
  • Gender, Power, Place
  • Sacred Geography through History
  • Digital Humanities and Visualization Technologies
  • Big Data Approaches to Sacred Geography
  • Sacred Landscapes of Eurasia
  • Sites and Ways of Pilgrimages
  • Innovation Methodological Approaches

In order to participate in the conference, please submit by February 15th, 2020 a title and 250-word abstract along with your name and affiliation to the registration page found at:

Participants will be notified of the committee’s decision by March 2020.  The conference will take place in the capital city of Kazakhstan, Nur-Sultan, on the campus of Nazarbayev University, one of the leading universities in the region.  Kazakhstan offers visa-free travel to many countries.  More information about visa, accommodation options and events of interest will be provided on the conference web pages.  In addition, we will arrange fee-based workshops related to the conference as well as short excursions in and around Nur-Sultan, the details of which will be posted at a later date.  For questions and concerns, you may contact us at nusacredgeography@gmail.com. Submit your application via https://eatlas.kz/?page_id=105.

 

САКРАЛЬНАЯ ГЕОГРАФИЯ: МУЛЬТИДИСЦИПЛИНАРНЫЕ ПОДХОДЫ В ИЗУЧЕНИИ ПРОСТРАНСТВА И ВРЕМЕНИ

Международная конференция

Назарбаев Университет, Нур-Султан, Казахстан

С 24 по 26 сентября 2020 г.

Цель этой конференции – обсудить междисциплинарные подходы в области религиоведения, культурной антропологии, археологии, истории и др., в изучении сакральных ландшафтов, религиозных объектов и пространственных измерений религии. Конференция включает любой спектр тематик, регионов, религиозных традиций, методологий и технологий, которые связаны с теоретическими и аналитическими парадигмами пространства и ландшафта.

Организаторы конфренции приглашают к участию исследователей из сферы гуманитарных и социальных наук, использующих новые методологии в изучении роли пространства и места в религиозных традициях. Особо приветствуются презентации проектов с цифровым гуманитарным или социальным компонентом, включая такие технологии, как фотограмметрия, электронные атласы, картография и ГИС в деле сохранения культурного наследия, педагогики и туризма.

Темы докладов

Оргкомитет принимает заявки на индивидуальные доклады, тематические секции и круглые столы по темам, связанным с исследованиями пространственных измерений религии. Особенно приветствуются доклады, в которых используются теоретические или методологически инновационные подходы к пониманию пространства и места, если они связаны с различными аспектами религиозной жизни, включая веру, ритуал, значение, эстетику и опыт. Мы также приветствуем этнографические и исторические исследования географических объектов и текстов, проливающие свет на роль пространства и места в религиозных традициях. Мы приглашаем подавать заявки на организацию секций, включающих, но не ограничивающихся следующими темами и вопросами:

  • сакральные объекты в государственной политике;
  • этические вопросы сохранения наследия и развитие туризма
  • пол, власть, место;
  • сакральная география в историческом измерении;
  • цифровые гуманитарные науки и технологии визуализации;
  • big data в применении к сакральной географии;
  • сакральные ландшафты Евразии;
  • места и способы паломничества;
  • инновационные методологические подходы в изучении сакральной географии

Чтобы принять участие в конференции необходимо до 15 февраля 2020 года представить название и тезисы доклада или секции в объеме 250 слов, а также личные данные на странице регистрации.

Все подавшие заявку на участие в конференции будут уведомлены о решении оргкомитета в марте 2020 года. Конференция состоится в столице Казахстана г. Нур-Султан в кампусе Назарбаев Университета, одного из ведущих университетов в регионе. Казахстан предлагает безвизовый режим гражданам многих стран. Более подробная информация о визе, вариантах размещения и достопримечательностях Нур-Султана будет предоставлена ​​на веб-странице конференции. Кроме того, в рамках конференции будут организованы платные семинары, а также обзорные экскурсии по Нур-Султану и его окрестностям, подробности о которых будут опубликованы позднее. За дополнительной информацией обращайтесь по адресу nusacredgeography@gmail.com. Подать заявку можно по этому адресу https://eatlas.kz/?page_id=27&lang=ru.

Author-Interview: Slavery and Empire in Central Asia, by Jeff Eden (St. Mary’s College of Maryland)

In this third installment of our series highlighting the books short-listed for this year’s book prize, we welcome Sergey Salushchev (University of California, Santa Barbara) who interviews Jeff Eden (St. Mary’s College of Maryland) about his book Slavery and Empire in Central Asia.   

From the Cambridge University Press website: “The Central Asian slave trade swept hundreds of thousands of Iranians, Russians, and others into slavery during the eighteenth–nineteenth centuries. Drawing on eyewitness accounts, autobiographies, and newly-uncovered interviews with slaves, this book offers an unprecedented window into slaves’ lives and a penetrating examination of human trafficking. Slavery strained Central Asia’s relations with Russia, England, and Iran, and would serve as a major justification for the Russian conquest of this region in the 1860s–70s. Challenging the consensus that the Russian Empire abolished slavery with these conquests, Eden uses these documents to reveal that it was the slaves themselves who brought about their own emancipation by fomenting the largest slave uprising in the region’s history.”

The introduction of your book introduces slavery in Central Asia as a long-forgotten phenomenon. Why, in your opinion, has the historiography of the region ignored this important issue?

I would love to offer a “savior” tale here about how I was a whistleblower amid a conspiracy-of-silence on slavery, or saved manuscripts from a shipwreck, or was simply “in the right place at the right time” to make a huge discovery (possibly on camelback amid nomads). The reality involves far less in the way of personal glory, but—in its own way—it’s even more exciting.

First, to clarify: there has been no mass conspiracy—let alone a watery grave—hiding the primary sources on Central Asian slavery. Information on slavery is “hidden in plain sight” in practically every travelogue and memoir from nineteenth-century Central Asia, whatever the language. There is also some excellent work on Central Asian slavery by Turgun Faiziev, Yuan Gao, Scott C. Levi, G.I. Semeniuk, Elena Smolarz, and others (please see references below).

That said—and as some of these colleagues have likewise noted in their work—there has been a remarkably small amount of research on Central Asian slavery overall. Compared to many other regions in which slavery was historically prevalent, Central Asia’s slave trade seems forgotten: unknown to most who study slavery in other contexts, and little-known even to many Eurasianists.

Since there is no shortage of accessible information, nor any conspiracy against revealing it, I suspect that the relative shortage of research here may best be explained by a relative shortage of Eurasianists working on pre-Soviet Central Asia. To be sure, there has been rapid development on that front in the last decade or so. But here too is the exciting part: there are still many huge, epoch-spanning, relatively unexplored topics in Central Eurasian history simply waiting for motivated writers to pick up the threads.

Trying to research and understand the lived experiences of enslaved individuals and communities is a notoriously difficult and epistemologically daunting task. What motivated you to research the history of slavery and the slave trade in Central Asia?

Researching slaves’ lives can be challenging, especially given the scarcity of sources on slaves’ experiences in many parts of the world. Central Asia—like the American South—is one of those rare regions where reconstructing slaves’ lives seems thrillingly possible, thanks to an abundance of sources from many different perspectives. We have so much: memoirs by former slaves, interviews with slaves and former slaves, manumission documents, legal manuals, ambassadors’ letters, eyewitness travel reports, and more. These sources span several languages, including Persian, Turkic, Russian, English, and French. Diverse sources means diverse questions about source-specific biases, genres, and motivations, and addressing these questions is a constant epistemological challenge. Sometimes the challenge is a pleasure, and sometimes it feels like a burden. In any case, this is a topic for which the “burden” of too much evidence is undoubtedly a blessing. It was the visceral impact of the sources—some are heartbreaking, some are breathtaking—that initially motivated me to work on the subject.

View from the city walls, Khiva (wikimedia commons opensource image)

The title of your book suggests an intricate, if not integral, link between slavery in the Central Asia and the Russian imperial project in the region in the nineteenth century. In what ways does the Russian presence in the region illuminate the history of slavery in Central Asia? In what ways might it obscure it?

These are great questions. Some of the most detailed eyewitness information on slavery is provided by Russian travelers, soldiers, and officials. These sources are crucial. However, there are at least two ways in which major aspects of the slave trade are obscured or distorted in some Russian reportage.

First, Russian official sources say relatively little about the enslavement of Iranians in the region, an oversight that creates a warped picture of slavery’s demographics. Throughout the nineteenth century, the Russian Empire repeatedly used the presence of enslaved Russians in Central Asia as one pretext to dispatch envoys and armies. By mid-century, there were very few Russian slaves to liberate. There were, however, tens of thousands of Iranian slaves, and they were the focus of much less Russian diplomatic engagement. In short, there is a risk of obscuring the main victims of the slave trade—Iranians—while exaggerating the prevalence of enslaved Russians. Taking advantage of diverse sources helps to balance the picture here.

Second, Russian official sources tend to overlook the persistence of the slave trade after the Russian conquest of the region. The Russian government lost interest in the region’s slave trade after the conquests, despite convincing evidence that the trade was ongoing. (To make this very point, an American traveler named Eugene Schuyler personally purchased a child slave in Bukhara!) The most likely explanation for Russia’s indifference to slavery in the post-conquest period is that the empire’s pre-conquest “abolitionism” had largely been a pretext for war. After the conquests were accomplished, there was little incentive to acknowledge that slavery still existed in Central Asia, let alone to help combat it.

Can you describe what have been the biggest challenges of conducting the research and writing the manuscript of your book? Did you encounter any major issues in gaining access to the archival sources in the region?

Most of the archival sources used in my book are held in Almaty, in the Central State Archive of the Republic of Kazakhstan. I ventured here thanks to the advice of my kind colleague Alexander Morrison, who suggested that I might find manuscripts on slavery in these collections. Kafkaesque anecdotes about former-Soviet archives constitute a venerable literary genre in our field, but I have no tragicomic tales to pass on from this archive. It is simply a wonderful place to work. The archive director and archivists were efficient, welcoming, and knowledgeable; the reading room was comfortable even in late summer; the neighborhood is leafy and pleasant; Almaty is lovely; and every folio I requested was freely available.

One of the chapters in your book attempts to dispel the myth of Russian abolitionism in the region. Your assertion has important implications for understanding Russian imperial expansion in Central Asia in relationship to slavery, as it challenges a well-entrenched perception of Russian benevolent abolitionism in places like the Caucasus and Central Asia. What archival discoveries allowed you to reassess the role of Russian imperial authorities in ending practices of slavery and the slave trade in the region? 

One of the most striking discoveries, for me, was the Khivan Slave Uprising of 1873, which is described both in a manuscript source and in published eyewitness accounts. These events—among others—seriously call into question the Russian “abolitionist” enterprise in Central Asia. This is the gist of the events:

On the eve of the Russian conquest of the town of Khiva in 1873, a massive slave rebellion erupted in the region. Evidently, these courageous slaves either expected the Russians to liberate them, or calculated that the chaos of the invasion would be an opportune moment to rise up. If the Russian “abolitionist” program had been sincere, one might expect the Russian military to support the uprising. Instead, the Russian general in charge of the invasion ordered rebelling slaves to be hung from the gallows in a public square, their bodies left to rot in plain view as a warning to others. It seems that he preferred to conquer a town filled with quiet, frightened slaves rather than deal with the “mess” of immediate emancipation.

“At the Fortress Wall: Let Them Enter” painting by Vasilii Vereshagin, 1871. 

The most interesting source describing these events is a local history from Khiva, written in Arabic-script Turkic. This manuscript is held in Tashkent, a city I have never visited; I received a copy of it from Paolo Sartori, another kind and generous colleague. I am planning to translate and publish this remarkable source later this year.

Exciting new revelations about Central Asian slave rebellions have continued to emerge from the archives. Just last month, my colleague Ulfat Abdurasulov shared with me a major discovery: another local history of slavery in the region, likewise in Arabic-script Turkic, which describes a series of slave rebellions that erupted before the Khivan Slave Uprising of 1873. (Abdurasulov and Nuryoghdi Toshov have translated and transcribed this manuscript, and their work was published just a few weeks ago.) This local history, based in part on interviews with former slaves (!), reveals an ongoing pattern of resistance among the slaves of Central Asia. With many Russian and Central Asian archives more accessible now than ever before, I look forward to further revelations on Central Eurasian slavery in the months and years to come.

References:

Artykbaev, Zh.O. ed., Raby i tiulenguty v kazakhskoi stepi. Astana: Altyn kitap, 2006.

Faiziev, T. Buxoro feodal jamiyatida qullardan foydalanishga doir hujjatlar (XIX asr). Tashkent: Fan, 1990.

Gao, Yuan. “Captivity and Empire: Russian Captivity Narratives in Fact and Fiction.” M.A. thesis, Nazarbayev University, 2016.

Levi, Scott C. “Hindus Beyond the Hindu Kush: Indians in the Central Asian Slave Trade.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society 12/3 (2002), 277-288.

Smolarz, Elena. “Speaking about Freedom and Dependency: Representations and Experiences of Russian Enslaved Captives in Central Asia in the First Half of the 19th Century.” Journal of Global Slavery 2 (2017), 44-71.