Window on the East: National and Imperial Identities in Late Tsarist Russia 0801476038, 9780801476037

Table of contents :
Contents
Preface
Abbreviations
Maps
Introduction
1. Russian Rule and Ethnic Diversity in the Middle Volga
2. Nikolai I. Il'minskii and the Renaissance of Russian Orthodox Missions
3. Confronting Islam
4. Schooling the Minority Peoples
5. Kazan University, Civic Life, and the Politics of Regional Ethnography
6. Ivan N. Smirnov and the Multan Case
7. Il'minskii's System under Siege
8. Window, Wall, or Mirror?
9. Nikolai F. Katanov: lnorodets in the Russian Academy
Conclusion
Selected Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

Window on the East

WINDOW ONTHE

EAST

National and Imperial Identities in Late Tsarist Russia

ROBERT P. GERACI

Cornell University Press Ithaca and London

First printing, Cornell Paperbacks, 2009

Copyright© 2001 by Cornell University All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in a review, this book, or parts thereof, must not be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, address Cornell University Press, Sage House, 512 East State Street, Ithaca, New York 14850. First Published 2001 by Cornell University Press Printed in the United States of America Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Geraci, Robert P. Window on the East : national and imperial identities in late tsarist Russia I Robert P. Geraci. p.cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN: 978-0-8014-7603-7 1. Russia-History-I801-1917. Nationalism-Russia. I. Title. DKI89 .G46 2001 947' .o7-dc2 1

2. Russia-Ethnic relations.

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00-012]00

Cornell University Press strives to use environmentally responsible suppliers and materials to the fullest extent possible in the publishing of its books. Such materials include vegetable-based, low-VOC inks and acid-free papers that are recycled, totally chlorine-free, or partly composed of nonwood fibers. Books that bear the logo of the FSC (Forest Stewardship Council) use paper taken from forests that have been inspected and certified as meeting the highest standards for environmental and social responsibility. For further information, visit our website at www.cornellpress.cornell.edu. Cloth printing

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Publication of this book was made possible, in part, by a grant from the Corcoran Department of History, University of Virginia.

Contents

Preface

vii

Abbreviations

Xlll

Maps

xvi

Introduction

I

1. Russian Rule and Ethnic Diversity in the Middle Volga 2. Nikolai I. Il'minskii and the Renaissance of Russian Orthodox Missions

47 86

3. Confronting Islam 4. Schooling the Minority Peoples

II6

5. Kazan University, Civic Life, and the Politics of Regional Ethnography

I

58

6. Ivan N. Smirnov and the Multan Case

1 95

7. Il'minskii's System under Siege

223

8. Window, Wall, or Mirror?

264

9. Nikolai F. Katanov: lnorodets in the Russian Academy

309

v

Conclusion

343

Selected Bibliography

353

Index

375

Preface

This book explores a crucial dimension in the history of late tsarist Russia: the consciousness of the empire's ethnic diversity and attempts to lessen it so as to produce a united Russian "nation." I focus on controversies-pedagogical, religious, political, and scholarly-that reveal how Russians of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries viewed the cultural ramifications of their country's expansion in "the East." Though its narrative concludes with the eve of World War I, the book has been profoundly shaped by momentous changes taking place in Russia during the last decade of the twentieth century. To a degree that I can no longer recall precisely, my settling on the relationship between Russian nationality and tsarist imperial rule as a research topic in 1989-1990 came from my awareness of changes afoot in the Soviet Union and in external perceptions of it, in addition to issues that had long interested me in American life. But I certainly did not know just how timely the project would become as I carried it out, nor the degree to which my work on it would benefit from the eventual dismemberment of Communist rule and of the Soviet empire. When I applied in 1990 to do research on this topic in the Soviet Union, I proceeded uncertainly. My mind was set on approaching the history of Russian national identity from the perspective of Kazan, nineteenth-century Russia's "window on the East," because of that city's relevance to the ideology and machinery of cultural integration for an enormous portion of the empire, on the one hand, and for the conceptual multifacetedness a regional focus would allow, on the other. Yet for all I knew, I might never be able to set foot in Kazan, let alone gain access to the research materials I needed there. At that time, foreign researchers in the USSR were typically allowed to visit provincial cities for several weeks at most, and had often been denied meaningful access to archival documents in such places-sometimes even in Moscow and Leningrad. Though it appeared in 1990 that restrictions had begun to loosen, vii

VIII

JJrejace

their eventual lifting exceeded my wildest dreams in its rapidity and extent. A couple of weeks before I was to leave for a nine-month stay, the failure of the August 19, 1991, coup against Mikhail Gorbachev precipitated the disintegration of central control in many areas of public affairs. In the realm of daily life, the loosening of control worked to my considerable disadvantage. In the realm of research, however, I gained virtually unrestricted access to materials in the archives of St. Petersburg (as it was renamed not long after my arrival) and Moscow, as well as to aids that until then had been guarded jealously. Most important for this project, I found that it was now possible, with few questions asked, to go to the capital of the Tatar Autonomous Republic (or Tatarstan), stay as long as I wanted, and be welcomed with open arms by re.., search institutions there. Thus I was one of the first foreigners in the Soviet Union to be granted unlimited use of materials in both central and provincial archives. All told, I spent about half of 1991-92 in Kazan and half in Petersburg and Moscow. I extended my stay in Russia (the Soviet Union having ceased to exist at the end of 1991) to a full year, a limit imposednot by the Russian government but by the U.S. airline on which I held my ticket. In subsequent years I returned for three shorter visits to complete research for the book. Besides these changes in formal conditions, I benefited immensely from the emergence in Tatarstan (though markedly less in the Russian capitals) of widespread public interest in precisely the issues I was researching. In the late I 98os, Gorbachev's policies of glasnost and perestroika had already made way for relatively open discussion of interethnic tensions and rivalries, cultural repression, and political and econmnic regionalism within the country. Central to all these discussions, of course, was growing awareness of and access to the history and cultures of the Russian empire in its pre-Soviet as well as Soviet forms. Since 1991, in Kazan I have witnessed the reopening of churches, mosques, and religious organizations, the republication of tsarist-era ethnographic and religious books, the emergence of popular historical magazines, a congress uniting members of the Tatar diaspora from all over the world, scholarly conferences reexamining (and arguing fiercely over) the nature of the Russian empire and the ethnic history of the middle Volga region, cultural events revisiting and reinventing Tatar traditions, street demonstrations for the political autonomy of the region and the cultural autonomy of the non-Russian peoples, and even a referendum (March 1992) in which some 6o ·percent of voters in the autonomous republic called for Tatarstan to be declared an independent, sovereign state. That vote was taken at roughly the same time as other largely Muslim regions in postcommunist Eastern Europe (Bosnia) and in the Russian Federation (Chechnya) made declarations of sovereignty that were later met with horrific retaliation. Fortunately, such developments have so far been avoided in Tatarstan. In February 1994 the republic signed an internal treaty with Moscow that has diminished the political and economic appeal of secession from the Russian Federation. No less impor-

Preface I ix tant, it has resisted any temptation to define itself in ethnonationally narrow or exclusive terms, instead emphasizing the fundamental legitimacy, inevitability, and even ultimate desirability of diversity. The research and writing of this book were also influenced by my observations in the realm of private life during this time of change. In Tatarstan I watched friends, acquaintances, and even strangers as they renegotiated the more personal aspects of ethnonational consciousness: language use, religious faith, scholarly judgment, political affiliation, recreation, kinship, child rearing, education, and so on. I am well aware that experiences of contemporary life and change can distort historical understanding as often as they enhance it, and that controversies about nationality and ethnicity in contemporary Russia differ enormously from those of a century ago. Indeed religion, one of the key parameters of group identity in tsarist times, is an immeasurably weaker force today, owing to systematic Soviet repression as well as larger historical processes. Moreover, this book is mostly about the history of conceptions of "Russianness," while my observations of developments focused more immediately on Tatar than on Russian identity. Nonetheless, some dimensions of the book-in particular my emphasis on the psychological ramifications of ethnonational divisions and on the inconsistencies and tensions in all attempts to assign or transform group identities-owe much to my opportunity to observe life in Tatarstan and Russia at close range during the 1990s. I like to think that those experiences have made this a better book. In the many years since I began this project, an enormous number of individuals and institutions have helped it along in both direct and indirect ways. First, I thank Reginald Zelnik, Yuri Slezkine, Nicholas Riasanovsky, and Alan Dundes for their help on its first draft. I am especially grateful to Reggie and Yuri for many years of shared wisdom and generous support. For their careful reading of and valuable suggestions on the first draft of the text, I must also thank Allen Frank, Gregory Freeze, Agnes Kefeli, Nathaniel Knight, Laurie Manchester, Charles Steinwedel, Mark von Hagen, Paul Werth, and Elise Wtrtschafter. Many other colleagues have offered constructive input on particular portions of the text. George Stocking, Sergei Kan, and Bruce Grant commented on an early version of Chapter 6. The scholars at the 1993 conference in Berkeley on the Russian borderlands, organized by Daniel Brower and Edward Lazzerini, offered useful discussion of what is now a portion of Chapter 8. Other material has been improved by discussions at the conference, "The Russian Empire: Borders, Culture, Identities," at Kazan University in 1994, organized by Catherine Evtuhov, Boris Gasparov, Alexander Ospovat, and Mark von Hagen; the conference on "Science, Regionalism, and Local Interests in Russia" at the Institute for the History of Technology and Natural Sciences of the Russian Academy of Sciences in 1995, organized by Daniel Aleksandrov; the Russian history workshop at Harvard organized by John

x

Preface

LeDonne in 1995-96; Agnes Kefeli's summer 1997 Tatar language workshop at Arizona State University; and conference panels of the American Association for the Advancement of Slavic Studies and the American Historical Association. Two anonymous readers for the Russian Review gave valuable comments on the latest version of Chapter 6. Several others helped the book along (perhaps without knowing it) through insightful discussions on relevant issues: Michael Khodarkovsky, Theodore Weeks, Peter Holquist, Amir Weiner, Douglas Weiner, Witold Rodkiewicz, and Eric Lohr. Several colleagues in the Corcoran Department of History at the University of Virginia have been gracious and constructive critics. Herbert Braun, Alon Confino, Richard Drayton, Michael Holt, Charles McCurdy, Brian Owensby, Sophia Rosenfeld, and Olivier Zunz helped with the revision of the book's introduction. Elizabeth Thompson has been a frequent consultant on matters Turkic and Islamic. Allan Megill deserves special thanks for offering his criticisms on a somewhat disjointed manuscript, as does Jeffrey Rossman for reading the entire book as it neared completion. Many of the key ideas in the book were developed as I was doing the research in Russia. In St. Petersburg, I had the luxury of consulting frequently with Agnes Kefeli on Tatar history and culture and with Nathaniel Knight on the history of ethnography in Russia. I am also grateful for the support, company, and intellectual stimulation of my fellow 1991-92 IREX participants in St. Petersburg-the Ploshchad' Muzhestva gang (especially Jonathan Mogul, Laurie Manchester, Chris Chulos, Eugene Clay, Vera Shevzov, Nadezhda Kizenko, and Nathaniel Knight), as well as David Kropf and Stephanie Sandler. I also thank Boris and Elena Ravdel for their hospitality. In Kazan, the historians Il'dus Zagidullin and the late Abrar Karimullin generously shared their work and opinions with me and assisted in locating documents. Karina Musina lent her expertise on the history of Kazan's geography, planning, and architecture and put me in touch with many other specialists. If not for the hospitality and friendship of Anvar Kileev, the late Kashifa Kileeva, Viacheslav Iakimov, Nelia Sattarova, Liliia Khaziakhmetova, and fellow IREX-er Daniel Schafer, I could never have carried out theresearch in Kazan at all, for my most basic daily needs would not have been met. Numerous institutions provided funding for the research and writing of the book. I am most grateful for grants from the University of California at Berkeley, the International Research and Exchanges Board (IREX), the Mellon Fellowships in the Humanities (of the Woodrow Wilson Fellowship Foundation), and the Social Science Research Council. The Kennan Institute for Advanced Russian Studies of the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars and the Davis Center for Russian Studies at Harvard University were excellent settings in which to rethink my work and learn from other scholars. Finally, the University of Virginia has twice given me summer faculty research grants for completing the book.

Preface

xi

For their enthusiastic assistance and boundless patience, I thank the staffs of all the archives and libraries in which I worked. For special efforts facilitating my use of archival materials, I am especially grateful to Serafima Igorevna Varekbova of the Russian State Historical Archive (who heroically retrieved an enormous stack of files from a collapsing building), Mikhail Shmil'evich Fainshtein of the St. Petersburg branch of the Archive of the Russian Academy of Sciences, and Zhanna Viktorovna Shchelivanova at the Lobachevskii Library of Kazan University (who was most accommodating in having microforms produced on short notice). Gennadii Obatnin, Dmitrii Nerubenko, Anna Ravdel, Oleg Famin, Benjamin Kelahan, and Stephen Norris provided invaluable research assistance at various times. Evgenii Bershtein answered my incessant linguistic queries. Georgii Anatolievich Miloshevskii at the Central Museum of Tatarstan assisted me with locating illustrations. Computer guru Edward Kilsdonk of the Corcoran Department of History averted or solved several technical crises. Michael Furlough, Zachary Nields, and Samuel Hall in Alderman Library at the University of Virginia produced the maps that were the bases for those that appear in the book. I am grateful to Indiana University Press and OGI respectively for allowing me to republish portions of the articles "Russian Orientalism at an Impasse: Tsarist Education Policy and the 1910 Conference on Islam," in Daniel Brower and Edward Lazzerini, eds., Russia's Orient: Imperial Borderlands and Peoples, r7oo-rgr7 (Bloomington, 1997); and "The Il'minskii System and the Controversy over Non-Russian Teachers and Priests in the Middle Volga," in Kazan, Moscow, St. Petersburg: Multiple Faces of the Russian Empire, edited by Catherine Evtuhov, Boris Gasparov, Alexander Ospovat, and Mark Von Hagen (Moscow, 1997). Chapter 6 has appeared previously as "Ethnic Minorities, Anthropology, and Russian National Identity on Trial: The Multan Case, 1892-1896," Russian Review (October 2ooo). I cannot possibly enumerate all the other friends-in the East, the West, and many places in between-who have given their moral support, kept me company, and tolerated my fascination and preoccupation with a subject that for many of them was rather obscure (I hope it will be so no longer). I thank them collectively. I extend special gratitude, however, to Michael Gorman, Patrick Patterson, Scott Hunter, Franny Nudelman, Marion Rust, and Evinrude, who did the most to keep me sane during critical periods in the writing of this book (though perhaps they don't think they succeeded). They knew when to lend their interested and sympathetic ears and when to throw up their hands (paws, in one case) and distract me from my work instead. Finally, I thank my parents for supporting and taking interest in my education at every stage, and ultimately for making this project possible. I dedicate the book to them. ROBERT

P.

GERACI

Abbreviations

AHR ARAN (Spb) BLKU

CAS CMRS EO GARF GDI ... GDIV GIM IKE

IOAIE IRGO IV JMH KGV KT KTsKTSh

KVK MIKU MGI

MNP MO Xlll

American Historical Review Archive of the Russian Academy of Sciences, St. Petersburg Division N. I. Lobachevskii Library at Kazan University, Manuscript Division Central Asian Survey Cahiers du monde russe et sovietique Etnog;raficheskoe obozrenie State Archive of the Russian Federation, Moscow Gosudarstvennaia Duma. Pervyi [. .. Chetvertyi] sozyv. Stenog;raficheskie otchety (St. Petersburg, 1906-17) State Historical Museum, Moscow, Department of Written Sources Izvestiia po Kazanskoi eparkhii Izvestiia Obshchestva arkheologii, istorii i etnog;rafii pri Kazanskom universitete Imperial Russian Geographical Society Istoricheskii vestnik Journal ofModern History Kazanskie gubernskie vedomosti Kazanskii teleg;raf Kazanskaia tsentral'naia kreshcheno-tatarskaia shkola (Kazan, 1887) Kamsko-volzhskii krai Historical Museum of Kazan University Ministry of State Domains Ministry of Education Missionerskoe obozrenie

XIV

I Abbreviations

MPMS MV MVD NART OAIE

OR PB PD PS PSS RGIA RGB RGO

RMM RNB RSh RV SPV SR TsMT TsOZh UZKU VE

VK

w

ZhMNP ZhS ZVORAO

Missionerskii protivo-musul'manskii sbornik Moskovskie vedomosti Ministry of Interior Affairs National Archive of the Republic ofTatarstan, Kazan Society for Archeology, History, and Ethnography (Kazan University) Okrainy Rossii Pravoslavnyi blagovestnik Institute of Russian Literature (Pushkin House), St. Petersburg Pravoslavnyi sobesednik Polnoe sobranie sochinenii Russian State Historical Archive, St. Petersburg Russian State Library, Moscow, Manuscript Division Russian Geographical Society Archive, St. Petersburg Revue du monde musulman Saltykov-Shchedrin Russian National Library, St. Petersburg, Manuscript Division Russkaia shkola Russkie vedomosti Sanktpeterburgskie vedomosti Slavic Review Central Museum of Tatarstan, Kazan, Manuscript Division Tserkovno-obshchestvennaia zhizn' Uchenye zapiski Kazanskogo universiteta Vestnik Evropy Viatskii krai Volzhskii vestnik Zhurnal Ministerstva narodnogo prosveshcheniia Zhivaia starina Zapiski Vostochnogo otdeleniia (Imperatorskogo) Russkogo arkheologicheskogo obshchestva

In archival references, I use the following Russian abbreviations: f fond (collection) opis' (inventory) op. d delo (file) deloproizvodstvo {paperwork) dp. 1., 11. list, listy (leaf, leaves) ob. oborot (verso) ch. chast' (part)

Window on the East

PERSIA

w-¢-E

•

AFGHANISTAN

Tashkent

Sea

( }Aral

Kazakh Steppe

s

N

Russian Empire, ca.

INDIA

0

0

1900

CHINA

400

600 miles 500- 1000 km

200

MONGOLIA

SIBERIA

ARCTIC OCEAN

KOSTROMA

N

N

I

50

VIATKA

I

0

I

50

I

100

SAMARA

I

150

Volga provinces, late nineteenth century

Provincial boundaries

Provincial capitals Rivers ,' · '.' · District boundaries

®

'i\0-M

0

PERM

0

UFA

s

w-?-E N

0

N

' o'--,

..... ~-,

-,-

\

'

-,

0

Sviiazhsk

~- ~

0

.-

20

0

I~"--"'

'' '

20

40

60

------- - .. __ .. iklopediia (Moscow, I930), 5'454; "Multanskoe delo," Bol'shaia sovetskaia entsiklopediia (Moscow, I954), 28:546; Voprosy istorii Udmunii, no. 2: Krest'ianstvo Udmunii (Izhevsk, I974), no; M. Gorky, "0 literature," in Sobranie sochinenii v 30 tomakh (Moscow, I953), 25:251. Some sources insinuate that the case was there-

Ivan N Smirnov and the Multan Case

197

Votiaks of Mamadysh district, Kazan province, posing for a photographer, 189os or early 1900S. From the collection of I. N. Smirnov. (By permission, Russian Ethnographic Museum, St. Petersburg, no. 205-4.)

the case is useful more broadly for illuminating the history of both learned and lay attitudes toward cultural difference and conceptions of the Russian empire as a multiethnic entity. Although ostensibly the case was about the innocence or guilt of specific persons accused of a specific crime, in the public mind much larger matters were at stake. To present a credible motive for murder, the prosecuting side had to make plausible the charge that human sacrifice was in fact a part of the Votiaks' way of life on the eve of the twentieth century. First, therefore, the suit of a government plot, and even that it was a trial run for the Beilis case. My interpretation of the role of the state is similar to that of Rogger regarding the Beilis case. See Rogger, Jewish Policies, chap. 3· While there is no evidence for a grand design originating in St. Petersburg, the general attirudes of tsarist authorities, their eagerness to exploit the cases for political profit, and their instirutional support of local officials played an important role in both cases.

I

98

Window on the East

entire Votiak people and their culture were being judged, and perhaps implicitly other minority peoples in Russia. Generalizations not only about Votiak culture but about human cultures in general-particularly those made by scholar-researchers-played a pivotal role in the case and in public discussion of it. The fledgling science of ethnography offered some bases and methods for making such generalizations, though its practitioners did not all share the same approach to or even definition of the field. Indeed, the case became a competition between different visions of ethnography, its scientific basis, and its social utility. In a way, then, ethnography itself also stood trial. Third, since the Votiaks had been subject to Russian domination and cultural influence for several centuries, and were widely thought of as significantly Russified and Christianized, to many observers the notion of contemporary human sacrifice made the Russians and their cultural mission as vulnerable to judgment as the Votiaks. In a larger sense too, the conduct of the case itself became a commentary on the way in which Russians as a "ruling nation" governed their empire. In spite of the marginality of the Votiaks, the Multan case struck directly at the core paradox of diversity and identity in a multiethnic empire during the age of nationalism. Crime and Punishment On May 6, I892, on a footpath between the Russian villages Anyk and Chul'ia and close to the mixed Russian-Votiak village Staryi Multan in Malmyzh district, Viatka province, a Russian girl, Marfa Goloviznina, came across a human corpse. The body was later identified as that ofKonon Matiunin, a Russian peasant from Kazan province who suffered from epilepsy and had come to collect alms. According to the girl's testimony, the corpse's head and neck had been cleanly chopped off, but remarkably little blood was on or around the body. An autopsy showed that Matiunin's back had been cut open, several vertebrae and ribs broken, and his lungs and heart removed. There were dark lacerations in the abdomen.? In sum, the condition of the body seemed to suggest a murder with some sort of occult or superstitious purpose. As soon as police arrived to investigate, they were met by Russians who told them, "The Votiaks did it." Several told the police they knew or had heard of the Votiaks' practice of sacrificing human beings to their gods in times of great need (as is well known, I 892 was a famine year in many villages in Russia). And in fact a beggar was said to have spent the night of May 5 in Staryi Multan. On the basis of these rumors, the police began to search the homes ofVotiaks known to practice pagan worship.s Soon Staryi Multan was 7 A. N. Baranov, V. G. Korolenko, and V. P. Sukhodoev, Delo multanskikh votiakov, obviniavshikhsia v prinesenii chelovecheskoi zhertvy iazycheskim bogam (Moscow, I 896), 3--6; hereafter cited as Delo. 8 "Delo o chelovecheskom zhertvoprinoshenii v malmyzhskom uezde," KT, Jan. 2 I, I 895.

Ivan N Smirnov and the Multan Case

199

overrun by a corps of investigators. The murder investigation, which stretched over two years because of various gaps and changes of personnel, focused almost exclusively on this village. Eventually twelve Votiak men of the village were charged with the crime and put in prison (though one died before the end of the investigation and another died awaiting trial). According to the indictment presented to the Sarapul Circuit Court in 1894 by its ambitious assistant prosecutor, Nikolai I. Raevskii, Matiunin's murder could be explained only as a sacrifice to the Votiaks' pagan gods. Raevskii described Votiak sacrifices of live animals on special occasionsthe role of the pagan priests in cutting the victims, the collection and drinking of blood, the removal of the head and internal organs, the reciting of prayers. Besides certain regular sacrifices of birds and sheep, he wrote, "every four or five years, special rites are performed, primarily in years of misfortune ... to the chief god, the evil spirit Kurbon. At such times some kind of large animal is sacrificed, such as a bull .... Finally, according to witnesses, who have heard about it from Votiaks themselves, about every forty years or more, in extreme instances, in years of complete crop failure or pestilence ... a human sacrifice is also made to Kurbon to secure his mercy." The said witnesses included the local land captain, a ninety-fiveyear-old Russian peasant who claimed that his nephew had narrowly escaped being sacrificed by Votiaks about forty years previously, and a priest who had taken part in the investigation of similar incidents, none of which ever resulted in criminal proceedings. 9 The indictment claimed that on May 4, 1892, the whole Votiak community in Staryi Multan had met and decided, on the basis of a vision one man had seen in a dream, to perform a human sacrifice. Only circumstantial evidence was cited against the accused. Moisei Dmitriev was suspected because he owned the shelter his clan used as a place for sacrifices, Andrian Aleksandrov because of his status as a shaman in Dmitriev's clan. Kuz'ma Samsonov was known as the best butcher in the village, and the condition of the corpse was such that supposedly only he could have done the cutting. Others had been named by two Votiak witnesses claiming to have been privy to the crime without participating in it. The prosecutor also used bits of conversation overheard by Russians, over a period of years and in many cases lacking any context, to prove that the defendants had incriminated themselves. Various pieces of material evidence were also cited: hairs in a washtub, traces of blood on clothing, the damp dirt floor of Dmitriev's shelter (supposedly washed to remove blood). to The flimsiness of the prosecutor's reasoning went unnoticed by most observers, and an overwhelming consensus was reached about the Votiaks' guilt. Even the medical experts' reports took as a given the practice of human sacrifice among the Votiaks, a matter on which the doctors surely had no special 9

Delo, 9-1 I.

w Ibid., r2-23.

200

Window on the East

knowledge.l 1 On December 10 and II, 1894, in the Sarapul Circuit Court, witnesses called to trial recited the same rumors used in the indictment. Raevskii, in a two-hour speech, referred to the supposed Jewish ritual sacrifice of children as support for the plausibility of the motive. He also applied his own logic to the Votiaks' religious practices. "About four years before the murder of Matiunin," Raevskii said, "a bull was sacrificed in Moisei Dmitriev's shelter. And it's not far from a bull to a human victim, especially after such difficult years, as in all fairness I 89 I and I 892 are considered in Malmyzh district." The Votiaks had little with which to counter the prosecutor's scenarios besides claims of their own innocence. Ignorant of legal procedures, they had found a lawyer, M. I. Driagin, only at the last minute. Thus the defense had missed its deadline for calling witnesses, and the court refused to waive this technicality. Driagin argued that human sacrifice was not practiced by the Votiaks or the Jews, but cited no particular authority on the question. His speech, according to the press, "made an excellent impression on the audience." Nonetheless the jury, composed mostly of peasants, after two hours of deliberation ruled that seven of the ten defendants were "guilty of taking the life of ... Matiunin with premeditated intention and with the purpose of making a sacrifice to their pagan gods." At the same time, the jury declared the seven "deserving of leniency," presumably because of their ignorance. Six were sentenced to ten years of hard labor and one (ninety years old) to exile in Siberia.12 The case caused an uproar in the regional press, and opinion was divided on the guilt or innocence of the Votiak defendants. Immediately the crime became emblematic of much larger issues. The Kazan newspaper Volzhskii vestnik (normally known as a liberal paper) published a diatribe pleading for better efforts at Russification of the inorodtsy. "It's horrible to think," wrote the author, anguished by the barbarity of the supposed crime, how close to us, it turns out, are those distant times when half-clothed, animallike savages, furious from a heated brawl, would throw themselves on their wounded yet still-living enemies and fight bitterly to divide pieces of human flesh among themselves. Who would deny that these pathetic, hapless Votiaks with Orthodox names-these Ivans, Semyons, Vasiliis, and so on, with whom even you, my reader, have perhaps stood in a crowd-belong in heart and mind with those Pacific savages [dikart] about whose ways you have read? It's hard to [accept the fact] that this incident occurred not somewhere in central Africa, India, or Polynesia, but just [200 miles] from a university city that is the center of A. N. Baranov, "Iz vospominanii o multanskom dele," VE, September r9r3, 145. "Delo o chelovecheskom zhertvoprinoshenii," KT,Jan. 24, r895· There is no full transcript of the Sarapul trial. Driagin's comments in the Kazamkii teleg;raf version do not mention any ethnographic authority, although he said "there are no indications anywhere of the existence of this horrible ritual." No one who wrote on the affair mentioned Driagin's use of ethnography in the first trial. 11

12

Ivan N. Smirnov and the Multan Case

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missionary work directed toward the education of the inorodtsy . ... And yet this is a fact whose reality is not open to doubt. After this, wouldn't any European passing through say that we're barbarians, or at least that such are among us? And he would be right.J3

Kazanskii teleg;raf, usually a conservative paper, was persuaded by the Viatka journalists A. N. Baranov and 0. M. Zhimov to publish an objection to Volzhskii vestnik's coverage that the latter paper itself had refused to print, as well as a partial transcript of the trial made by Zhimov.14 Articles such as these elicited responses from readers, and thus opened a polemic that cut to the core of Russians' self-images and called into question the nature of their empire. In his appeal of the case to the Governing Senate in St. Petersburg, Driagin claimed that numerous laws and judicial standards had been violated in the investigation and trial. The judge had shown a clear bias in favor of the prosecution by repeatedly interrupting and intimidating the defense while it addressed the jury, and by refusing to let the defense call witnesses. The court, moreover, had not demanded that the Votiak practice of human sacrifice be proved, and had broken the law by accepting testimony based only on unsubstantiated rumors. Such misconduct, Driagin implied, was meant to conceal the local authorities' bungling of the investigation and the prosecutor's misrepresentation of facts. Police had thrown away evidence that the trail of blood from the corpse had led not to Multan but to the Russian village Anyk. A discrepancy remained over which village Matiunin had slept in on the eve of his murder. Marfa Goloviznina's testimony on two sightings of Matiunin's corpse on different days suggested that it had been moved and reclothed in the interim. The body had then been kept for a month before the autopsy was performed. Only then did anyone noticed that the lungs and heart were missing, contrary to Raevskii's claim that they were missing when the body was found. Other material evidence was not collected until several months after the murder, and the site where the body was found was not formally investigated until the next winter, when it was covered with snow.15 In May 1895, the Senate annulled the conviction and demanded a retrial of the case in a different city with different judges and jurors. In its list of numerous violations of the judicial code by the court investigator, prosecutor, assistant prosecutor, and the Sarapul Circuit Court, it specifically required that the retrial involve the consultation and testimony of both ethnographic and medical experts.16 1l I. I. B[abushkin], "Chelovecheskoe zhertvo-prinoshenie iazycheskim bogam v Volzhskokamskom krae," vv, Dec. rs, I894· 14 "Delo o chelovecheskom zhertvoprinoshenii," KT,Jan. 20, 21, 22, and 24, r895· 15 V. G. Korolenko, "Predislovie k otchetu o multanskom dele," in Polnoe sobranie sochinenii (St. Petersburg, 1914), 4=37o--7r, 374; henceforth cited as PSS. 16 The Sarapul Regional Court responded to the citations only five and a half months later, after the Votiaks had already been convicted a second time. SeeP. N. Luppov's unpublished "Kazanskie sudebnye uchrezhdeniia i Ministerstvo iustitsii v tret'em sudebnom razbore multanskogo dela," inARAN (Spb), f. 8u, op. r, d. 71, 11. 24-25; and Baranov, "lzvospominanii," rso--sr.

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Several publications applauded the Senate's action. The newspaper Viatskii krai said that in light of the Senate's report, "the investigative proceedings can only be considered a blatant fabrication."17 The populist thick journal Russkoe bogatstvo was less blunt, but editorialized: "We will be hoping that science itself will lend its voice .... Science has some facts and probably could give a more reliable picture of the sacrifice, as well as other superstitious ideas and rituals."18 Science soon did lend its voice, or rather was drafted into the fray. Volzhskii vestnik, expressing certainty that the verdict had been correct, cited a consultation with the Kazan University professor Ivan N. Smimov and a reading of his book The Votiaks.19 Smimov's opinions soon became central to the case. Smirnov, Human Sacrifice, and "Survivals" Smimov's preoccupation with ritual human sacrifice predated the Multan case and perhaps even played a role in bringing it about. In public lectures and writings, he took advantage of the topic's sensational nature to generate a middle-class audience for ethnography in Kazan. Moreover, his chief anthropological role model, E. B. Tylor, had himself discussed human sacrifice at length in Primitive Culture in his explication of his concept of "survivals" and in his account of the evolution of. religion. Tylor defined survivals as "processes, customs, opinions, and so forth, which have been carried on by force of habit into a new state of society different from that in which they had their original home, and [which] thus remain as proofs and examples of an older condition of culture out of which a newer has been evolved."20 The apparent senselessness of survivals, their lack of current function, according to Tylor, identifies them to the anthropologist as points of access to past stages of culture. Another means Tylor used for tapping into earlier stages in a culture's history was known in the nineteenth century as the "comparative method." This idea was simply that the synchronic comparison of cultures at different stages of evolution was a means of identifying the more or less universal stages of this process. The more civilized peoples, Tylor believed, could see what their forebears had experienced by looking at modern "savages" or "primitives."21 To illustrate these concepts, Tylor analyzed "the rite of laying the foundations of a building on a human victim." Citing various European legends, he maintained that this practice had been common in the distant past as a way of VK, May 4• 1895· "Iz sovremennoi khroniki," Russkoe bogatstvo,June 1895, 159-60. 19 Luppov, Gromkoe delo, 17; M. Mandel'shtam, "Legkomyslennaia publitsistika," KT, July 8, 1895; Baranov, "lzvospominanii," 152. 20 E. B. Tylor, Primitive Culture (Boston, 1874), 1:16. 21 Marvin Harris, The Rise ofAnthropological Theory: A History ofTheories of Culture (New York, 1968), 15o-6 5 . 17 18

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ensuring the protection of structures by the gods. Certain nineteenth-century habits and superstitions expressed the memory of the sacrifice: pilgrimages to sites of ancient sacrifices, the substitution of empty coffins or of animal victims in building foundations, or superstitions that the laying of a foundation will result in the death of a passer-by. These were the end products of a progression Tylor called "sacrificial substitution," in which human sacrifice is replaced over time by less costly, less violent sacrifices. The required killing of a member of a worshiper's family may be replaced by that of a criminal, a captive enemy, or even an effigy. Other replacements could be "ceremonial mutilations"-the offering of human hair, a finger, or drops of blood-or animal sacrifices. Animal sacrifices might then be replaced by animal effigies or bits of food and drink. The meaning of the sacrifices, according to Tylor, also evolves from "substantial value" (satisfying a god's need of human flesh for subsistence) to "homage" (a symbolic gesture demanded by the god) or even "abnegation" (as in a sacrifice necessary for the peace of mind of the giver, but not for the satisfaction of the god). As in the case of the foundation sacrifice, the later, purely symbolic forms, as well as persistent superstitions, are survivals of substantive sacrifices. Human sacrifice-the most substantive form-Tylor asserted, had been reduced entirely to survivals in Europe, though it was probably still actually practiced in parts of Africa and Asia.22 Beginning in r889, Smirnov delivered public lectures highlighting the phenomenon of human sacrifice. In one titled "Traces of Human Sacrifices in the Popular Poetry and Religious Rituals of the Volga Finns," he began by noting the human figures on the facade of a Kazan department store depicted as supporting parts of the building, and traced this architectural tradition to ancient foundation sacrifices. He then introduced Tylor's law of survivals: even after "the causes that had inspired the practice of a given tradition disappear" entirely, we know the tradition existed because "popular superstitions preserve memories of the elements of life that have vanished. "23 Turning to Russian ethnography, Smirnov listed survivals of human sacrifice in the Finnic cultures of the Volga. Some Votiaks were recently known to hang dolls from trees in a cemetery. Some celebrated the melting of ice in spring by pretending to throw a young girl into the water. Another tribe, according to Smirnov, still recited a prayer referring to the killing of children. In a Cheremis fairy tale a god threatens to eat a human child; a Mordvinian tale has the Volga (a nature god) demanding the sacrifice of a person's parents.24 22 Tylor, Primitive Culture, I:97· Ios-6, 2:393-408; I:ro6-8. Because of the widespread view that gods in primitive religions are fashioned anthropomorphically, Tylor and others (including Smimov) thought that human sacrifice itself was evidence that primitive peoples practice cannibalism at some stage of development. Because of this association, the concepts of cannibalism and human sacrifice were often conflated in the public discourse on the Multan case. Smirnov, Sledy chelovecheskikh prinoshenii v poezii i religioznykh obriadakh privolzhskikh finnov (Kazan, I 889), H)-2 r. 23 Smirnov, Sledy, 7· 24 Jbid., 8- I 3.

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Ivan N . Smirnov, professor of history at Kazan University and author of ethnographic works on the Finnic peoples of the Volga region. (By permission Kazan University Library, Manuscript Division.)

Smirnov explained the origins of human sacrifice by combining two ideas from his reading in anthropology. One was Tylor's rationalistic view of primitive religion, or animism. In the Finnic belief system, as in all primitive religions, Smirnov assumed, gods are anthropomorphic: they are of flesh and blood, have human emotions, and require the same sustenance as humans. Second, Smirnov assumed that "all peoples have lived through a period of cannibalism (anthropophagy)." ("If we had no other evidence, he asserted, "this thesis of modern anthropology alone would be sufficient for assuming a period of cannibalism among the Volga Finns.") So if the primitive Finns ate human meat, and they fashioned the gods after themselves, then the gods were likely to be given humans as sustenance. "The fact of human sacrifices is now wholly understandable: the Volga inorodtsy fed the gods with what they considered a delicacy for themselves."25 Though he used a lurid account of the local past to captivate his listeners, Smirnov did not say that the Volga Finns still practiced human sacrifice. "You 25

Ibid.,

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will not despair and throw up your hands at the free reign of egoistic urges [today] when you remember what kind of past the surrounding society has behind it, what horrible forces had to be fought in order to raise the banner of altruism over life."26 He seemed certain that the custom was extinct and traceable only by means of techniques such as survivals and the comparative method,27 In The Votiaks (189o), however, Smirnov's message became somewhat ambiguous. The book confidently celebrated the Votiaks' progress toward becoming Russian: "The Votiaks are on the path of fusion [sliianie] with the Russian people," it proclaimed; "perhaps it will not be a century before the last Votiak will become a Russian." In some cases Smirnov saw even more rapid progress, as in one area where he predicted that "after two or three more decades there will remain only the vague memory of the existence of Votiaks in the parish." It seems unlikely, then, that Smirnov could think the Votiaks were still sacrificing humans. Yet this book carelessly muddled the distinction between the past and the present. Smirnov's 1889 lecture had been criticized by a skeptical reviewer. In his zeal to prove that the Votiaks had indeed practiced ritual murder, Smirnov now used some more recent ethnographic sources implying that sacrifices had been performed in the nineteenth century. Aleksandra Fuks, wife of the celebrated university professor, had claimed in 1844 that "long ago" Votiaks used to sacrifice the oldest man in the village to their ancestors. A writer named Maksimov had repeated Fuks's claim in 1855, and Smirnov counted it as an additional corroboration. In 1861 an anonymous article in Viatskie gubernskie vedomosti had alleged Votiaks' periodic need to sacrifice an individual of a certain hair color. E. T. Solov'ev, a participant in the Fourth Archeological Congress in Kazan in 1877, had reported that Votiaks periodically sacrificed members of enemy tribes, but other Finnic experts present had reacted skeptically. Most recently, the ethnographer Grigorii V. Vereshchagin had mentioned stories about Votiak human sacrifice in an 1887 book, but said they were only fables, and that if the atrocity had ever really taken place, sooner or later it would have come to public attention.28 In spite of the unreliability or dubiousness of each of these sources, Smirnov used them all to support his argument. Smirnov also repeated a rumor he had heard on his field trip to the Votiak country: "In Birsk district they asked us directly, is it true that the Votiaks of Viatka province sacrifice people to the gods, and then they told us that among the Birsk Votiaks such a conviction is held persistently, and that they supposIbid., 21-22. 27 See also five works by Smirnov: Cheremisy, 182-86; Zadachi, 7---9; Permiaki (Kazan, 1891), 283-84; Mordva, 308-12; and Sledy, 21-22; also E. F. Sbmurlo, Vos'moi arkheologicheskii s"ezd (St. Petersburg, 189o), 41-42. 28 Smirnov, Votiaki, 26o, 70, 23 1-33; G. Vereshchagin, Votiaki somovskogo kraia (= Zapiski IRGO po otdeleniiu etnografii, vo!. 14, no. 2) (St. Petersburg, 1886), 8o-81. 26

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edly know or knew people who were doomed to be sacrificed but managed to get away from the Votiaks with only minor injuries."29 Smirnov did not indicate whether his informants were Russians or Votiaks, but nevertheless took the rumor as compelling evidence of human sacrifices. In spite of statements to the contrary, Smirnov was indeed insinuating that the extinction of the practice in Votiak religion might not yet be complete. Smirnov's confusion was over more than just one aspect of Votiak culture; rather it pervaded his entire understanding of anthropology, its methods, and its judgments. In his next book, The Permiaks (1891), he discussed the contemporary coexistence of Christian marriage customs among this people with a permissive extramarital sexual life that included incest, orgies, and births out of wedlock. This permissiveness he identified as what the evolutionists called "primitive" sexual relations, and spoke of it as a survival of a preChristian epoch.JO According to Tylor, though, the notion of survivals was supposed to apply to elements of culture that no longer had any meaning or function in the present day, whereas what Smirnov referred to was evidently alive and well. By mixing the anthropological definition of survival with the word's colloquial meaning, Smirnov created the impression that Permiak promiscuity was a survival not because it had lost its meaning or function but because it had not. (The translation of Tylor's ideas from English into Russian not only did not eliminate this confusion but even compounded it.)31 If culture traits that still exist and those that retain only some slight aspect of their original form could both be called survivals, then it is not hard to see how Smirnov conflated "survivals" of human sacrifice with the notion that the practice was still taking place. Tylor himself deserves a share of the blame, however, for mixing his metaphors. Choosing archeology as a model for charting human evolution, he sought an analogue to the pieces of ancient pottery or fossilized organisms that help archeologists reconstruct history. He came up with the notion that broken-off, dead, and hardened aspects of nonmaterial culture found in modern society could play a similar role. But at the same time Tylor was drawn to biological metaphors for cultural change, since the artifacts that interested him are not buried in the ground but somehow still present in human lifehence his choice of the term "survival." Neither analogy is entirely appropriate, and they contradict each other-the term itself suggests continuing vitalSmirnov, Votiaki, 2 35. Smirnov, Permiaki, 207- r 1. 31 "Survival" can be translated in two ways. Perezhitok refers to the thing that survives (with a diminutive connotation); perezhivanie could also refer to that which survives, but principally meant the act of surviving (with no necessary diminution). Smirnov used the two interchangeably in discussing Tylor's concept. The r872 Russian translation of Primitive Culture had also used perezhivanie prominently (and in the singular) in referring to survivals. Only in the r939 translation did perezhitki replace perezhivanie in translating "survivals." See Robert P. Geraci, "Window on the East: Ethnography, Orthodoxy, and Russian Nationality in Kazan, r87o-r9r4" (Ph.D. diss., University of California, Berkeley, r995)" 3or-4. 29

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ity, while the supposed criterion for identifying survivals is defunctness.32 Even Tylor's own discussion of survivals in Primitive Culture suffered to some degree from this ambiguity.33 If Smirnov was unsure of his position on the persistence or extinction of human sacrifice among the Votiaks' religious practices, the Multan accusations tipped the balance. After examining the further stages of the case, we will see that it was not only scientific imprecision that swayed Smirnov (and many others) but also the ambiguity of predominant Russian attitudes toward their empire and its peoples. Ethnographers on the Witness Stand The retrial of the case took place from September 29 to October 1, 1895, in the small city of Elabuga in Viatka province. Procedurally, it was hardly fairer than the first trial. The same indictment was brought, with its vague rumors of human sacrifice unchanged. The same judge presided illegally over the hearing. \Vhile permitting the prosecution to call two new witnesses, he again rejected all of the defense's requests for witnesses-including the three men acquitted in the first trial, who by law had to be allowed to testify-_34 In accordance with the Senate's instructions, the court did allow testimony by ethnographic "experts." The prosecution invited Smirnov, and the defense summoned the Russified Votiak teacher and ethnographer Grigorii Vereshchagin (whose doubts about human sacrifice Smirnov had cited in his monograph). 35 Most of the prosecution's witnesses were the same village personalities 32 Margaret Hodgen, The Doctrine of Survivals (London, 1936), 141, 145-48. According to Hodgen (154-73), some critics of the concept denied that any culture trait, however out of place it seems to be, can be thoroughly useless or meaningless. Marvin Harris has defended the concept against such critics by asserting that the evolutionists were well aware that "in both biological and sociocultural survivals, there is a spectrum of utility rather than a dichotomy of useful and useless" (Rise ofAnthropological Theory, I66). 33 See Tylor's description of a woman using an old-fashioned loom rather than a newfangled one: "this old woman is not a century behind her times, but she is a case of survival" (Primitive Culture, I:I6). Though the woman adheres to tradition, she keeps the old-style loom not purely as a curiosity. Her loom still functions, and she still uses it for weaving. A similar case is Tylor's discussion of "survivals" of symbolic magic, which, though long outdated and having lost much of its credibility, still had many credulous practitioners in the nineteenth century (ibid., chap. 4). 34 P. N. Luppov, "Iz istorii multanskogo deJa," in ARAN (Spb), f. 8I I, op. I, d. 68, II. I!}--22. 35 The defense's first choice, Petr Bogaevskii, was turned down by the court probably because he had already gone public with his criticism of the case and of Smirnov. After the first conviction, he had presented his views to the ethnographic division of Moscow University's Society for the Lovers of Natural History, Anthropology, and Ethnography, and had urged that in future cases of this type ethnographers be invited to provide expertise. See P. M. Bogaevskii, "K Multanskomu delu: Sushchestvuiut li chelovecheskie zhertvoprinosheniia u votiakov?" RV, Nov. 7, I895· Even before the case, ironically, Bogaevskii had also criticized Smirnov for expecting the full Russification of the Votiaks to be completed unrealistically soon (review of Votiaki, by I. N. Smirnov, EO, January-March I89o, 220).

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who had testified in Sarapul, while comparable witnesses who might have presented contradictory views were denied to the defense.36 But the trial held some embarrassing revelations for the prosecution. While on the witness stand, two Votiak witnesses who in 1893 had told the police in detail about Matiunin's sacrifice suddenly recanted this testimony, revealing that they had given it while being tortured by the police official Raevskii had sent to Multan from another district after previous investigators had failed to find compelling evidence against the suspects.37 The doctor who had performed the autopsy on Matiunin, having claimed there was evidence that the stilllive Matiunin had been hung upside down to drain his blood out, also recanted. Now he admitted he had made that judgment under the influence of the investigator's prior judgment; in reality the blood could have been drained after death, and the abdominal blotches were perhaps not from lacerations but a rash. The ethnographers' testimony came last. Smirnov insisted that the indictment's description of Matiunin's corpse "shows the full picture of a sacrifice." The professor was puzzled by a few circumstances in the prosecution's scenario that deviated from what he knew about Votiak sacrifices. Under crossexamination, however, he hinted that these contradictions could be explained by a "compromise permitted under the pressure of circumstances." Raevskii recognized this as a necessary loophole for his case.38 Smirnov also used theoretical arguments in support of the Votiaks' practice of human sacrifice: In the literature, beginning in the r8sos, there are indications that such sacrifices were performed by Votiaks. What the literature says can, of course, raise doubt, since the information in it is extremely imprecise, and I am obliged therefore to corroborate what has been said. In science we have a device by which, if there is vagueness as to some aspect of the culture being studied, we turn to the culture of related peoples and using the features of this culture we add what is missing. In this consists the so-called comparative method of study. By this device we find what we lack in the literature on the Votiaks-namely, that the gods demand human sacrifices.39 36 A priest who had served in Multan only since two years before Matiunin's murder testified for the prosecution to corroborate rumors of ritual murder. Multan's other priest, who had served there for 40 years, had submitted testimony to debunk such rumors, but the court disregarded it and refused to let the defense call the priest as a witness. Delo, 79-82; S. K. Kuznetsov, "Iz vospominanii etnografa," EO, July-September I 907, 2; Shatenshtein, Multanskoe delo, 4 3. 37 Delo, 97-105. The judge tried to suppress the defense's probing into these allegations. 38 Ibid., I6r-64, I67-68, I84. First, Smimov thought, large sacrifices must take place in public. They are performed by and for the benefit of not one clan but the entire community, and no clan ever permits members of another to enter its place of sacrifice. But the prosecution and witnesses had named as the scene of the crime a shelter belonging to only one clan, that of Moisei Dmitriev. Also, the person accused of cutting Matiunin did not belong to Dmitriev's clan, but had allegedly been hired. According to Smimov, ethnographers know that a person must be elected to play this role, and cannot be paid for it. 39 Ibid., I 6o-6 I.

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Applying this logic-which was not in fact the comparative methodSmirnov summarized a Cheremis folktale in which a man is duped by his ailing wife into sacrificing his son (the wife's stepson), believing it is necessary for curing her illness. Also, to show that Votiak gods are cannibalistic, Smirnov mentioned various Votiak beliefs about gods chasing humans in order to eat them. Another type of legend, about heroes eating the heart or other parts of a conquered enemy in order to obtain certain character traits, he testified, exists "among all primitive peoples, and is not unknown even to Europeans, for example Germans, and is also seen in the Estonians and even among medieval Christians." Smirnov concluded, "I could go on much longer with examples, but that might be superfluous, and even without that my position is sufficiently proved."40 Vereshchagin, the defense's ethnographic witness, was more modest than Smirnov both in his scholarship and in his manner. Like Smirnov, he thought there had been a period of cannibalism among the Votiaks, and noted traditions in one region that could be considered survivals of past human sacrifices.41 Yet because he disliked generalizations and based his views only on his own observations in particular regions, he failed to refute Smirnov forcefully. He stated modestly, "I don't know about the Votiaks of Malmyzh, but in general Votiak gods do not demand human victims." Vereshchagin's testimony lasted only a few minutes and went virtually unnoticed.42 After the prosecutor, in a final statement, disingenuously attempted to downplay the dependence of his case on Smirnov's testimony, and the judge delivered confusing instructions to the jury about the basis of their decision, the jury produced an equally confusing verdict: the seven defendants were guilty of Matiunin's murder, but "without premeditated intention."43 The court sentenced four of Ibid., r62. Vereshchagin, Votiaki sosnovskogo kraia, 8o-8r; S. K. Kuznetsov, "Uspekhi etnologii v dele izucheniia finnov Povolzh'ia za posledniia tridtsat' let," EO, January-June r9ro, 97· 42 Delo, r69-7o; RGIA, f. 1405, op. 96, d. 56o6, I. 78. This archival file of the Ministry of]ustice and two from the appeals department of the Governing Senate (RGIA, f. 1363, op. 2, d. 452, and op. 8, d. 3 r r) are the only ones from the case that I have found, and they have added little to my understanding of it. There appears to be nothing in the Kazan archives. 43 "Mter the evidence of these living witnesses," Raevskii said, "the experts have nothing to offer us; rather, this case gives much to science. The only thing of value in Smirnov's testimony is that among the tribes related to the Votiaks some gods aren't averse to eating human flesh." He also told the jurors that "the motive has no significance for the determination of your verdict," which concerned only whether the accused had taken Matiunin's life. The question posed to the jury did not include the words "human sacrifice" or any reference to a religious motive. But just minutes later Raevskii urged them: "Awaiting your verdict are not only these individuals, but thousands of Votiaks, their fellow tribespeople, in order to know whether they should continue this rite. You don't want them to, and with your verdict you will not tell them that the same God who saved them from hunger and disease will [also] save them from a guilty verdict!" (Delo, 174, 177-78, 193-94). The judge, for his part, advised the jurors not to worry about whether every defendant was shown to have taken part in the actual killing; since the crime was a human sacrifice (of a ritual nature and highly premeditated), any individual present could be considered an active participant in it (ibid., 225-27). 40 41

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them to ten years of hard labor, two to eight years of hard labor, and one to Siberian exile.44 Before the retrial, the journalists Baranov and Zhirnov, sure of the Votiaks' innocence, had been collecting information on the Multan case and searching for a well-known figure to bring greater public attention to it. In August r895 they contacted Vladimir G. Korolenko, a Populist writer known for short stories written during his Siberian exile. Korolenko immediately agreed to lend his support; he petitioned the court to let him speak for the defense at Elabuga but was turned down. As an alternative strategy, Korolenko, Baranov, and the lawyer V. I. Sukhodoev decided to keep a meticulous account of the proceedings so as to facilitate later discussion of the case in the event of a second conviction. The "nearly stenographic transcript" they produced was published first in the Moscow newspaper Russkie vedomosti, and later in provincial newspapers and as a book. 45 Korolenko also began to publish his own commentaries on the case. These articles, Baranov recalled in his memoirs, "like a rock thrown into a stagnant swamp, made the entire press shudder."46 In the first, printed alongside the transcript, Korolenko urged that the abuses found by the Senate be corrected because "the sentence in this case will be a sentence not only on the accused Votiaks, but also on the school in Multan, and on the priest who has served 40 years in the church ... and· on our whole cultural mission among the inorodtsy." He proclaimed, "We ... appeal for help to all the Russian press. Let the jurists evaluate the reliability of the evidence, let doctors and ethnographers analyze the surprising testimony used to accuse the Votiaks of cannibalism.... Light, [bring] as much light as possible to this dark affair, or else horrible doubt will be forever hanging over it as to the true victims of human sacrifice!"47 Korolenko went to Multan himself to speak to the Votiaks about their customs and religious beliefs. In Russkoe bogatstvo, of which he had recently become editor, he published a long attack on Smirnov, denying the sufficiency of the professor's testimony to prove that a human sacrifice had been committed. The case, he pleaded, was about "not just a survival [perezhivanie] but an actual cult, still alive, and of the entire Votiak people!" Smirnov's facile conflation of the two in a sense had diminished the seriousness of the supposed crime. "No, we must not close our eyes to the full horror [of cannibalistic sacrifice], if it exists; we must not compare it with any sort of superstition! Superstitions you will find on every rung of society; cannibalism left us thousands of years ago."48 44 Seemingly stunned by .the jury's decision, Smimov was heard to mutter despondently, "Could my judgment really have had such an influence?" (Baranov, "Iz vospominanii," r6o). 45 Ibid., I 54-55· 46 Jbid., I 6 I. 47 V: G. Korolenko, "K otchetu o multanskom zhertvoprinoshenii," in PSS, 4:365, 367. 4 8 V: G. Korolenko, "Multanskoe zhertvoprinoshenie," in PSS, 4:4or, 383; emphasis in original.

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Korolenko argued that Smimov had misinterpreted the Cheremis folktale at the center of his testimony. The story poked fun at the man who sacrificed his son. The man did not observe the normal religious rituals of his people, but was convinced by his deceitful wife that such a sacrifice was required for her recovery. Therefore, Korolenko argued, the tale is actually evidence of the obsolescence of human sacrifice among the Cheremises. The Votiaks, he insisted, were devout Christians, even if somewhat ignorant. If they still worshiped their native gods, they had ceased to recognize the most powerful of them, with the exception of the supreme god Inmar, who accepted no blood sacrifices and was considered by ethnographers to represent the Christian view of God.49 If Matiunin's murder had in any way suggested a ritual purpose, he concluded, it was because someone had mutilated the corpse in an attempt to simulate a human sacrifice and frame the Votiaks. As a Populist, Korolenko felt that the credulousness of both officialdom and educated public opinion with regard to the supposed human sacrifice represented contempt not only for a marginal ethnic group but for the entire mass of Russian peasants. 50 In interviews and writings on the case, Korolenko repeatedly stressed that human sacrifice, while it might believably still exist among Siberian peoples such as the Chukchi, who were far away and aloof from Russians, was inconceivable among a people who had been living for centuries close to "purely Russian communities" and had themselves reached the agricultural stage of subsistence. Staryi Multan, Korolenko always pointed out, had had an Orthodox church for fifty years and a Russian school for thirty years. But even if Russian schools and missionaries had been ineffectual, the simple presence of the Russians would have to have had a significant civilizing influence on the Votiaks.51 In effect, Korolenko embraced the evolutionists' faith in inevitable progress along universal lines. Strangely, he found Smirnov's own writings on the Russification of the Finnic inorodtsy to be perfectly suited to the task of supporting this optimistic worldview against Smimov's cynical position in the Multan case. Several self-described ethnographic experts on the Votiaks also published attacks on Smimov's positions, his logic, and his methodology. The Irkutsk political exile and ethnographer Dmitrii A. Klements asked why the Kazan professor had assumed that the themes of the folktales he cited were specifically Cheremis (let alone Votiak): scholars know that peoples borrow folklore themes extensively from one another. Since the plots of many Russian tales, for example, had been found to be of Asian origin, "there's no way of confirming for any one theme whether it's local, whether it's original or borrowed" without extensive research. Klements therefore doubted that folktales, whatever their origin, can tell much about the past or the present. "To adopt a theme doesn't Ibid., 396, 4oo. G. A. Bialyi, V. G. Korolenko, 2d ed. (Leningrad, 1983), 22 3-28. 51 Korolenko, "Chelovecheskie zhertvoprinosheniia"; "K otchetu," 362; and "Multanskoe zhertvoprinoshenie," 383. 49

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necessarily mean to absorb all the beliefs and rituals mentioned in the given story and to make a cult of them," he wrote. In any event, Klements distanced himself from Smirnov's exaggerated view of ethnography's applicability to the case: "The issue was not the formulation of a scholarly hypothesis, requiring examination, but the decision of the fate of living people!"52 But neither could Klements share Korolenko's confidence that principles of ethnography were sufficient to prove the defendants' innocence, or his perception that the Votiaks were nearly on the same cultural level as the Russians. He sympathized with the "understandable fear that any sensitive person feels for Russian culture, the fear before the prospect of acknowledging cannibalism in a people already living amidst Russians for hundreds of years." But even without cannibalism or human sacrifice, Klements insisted, the cultural level of the inorodtsy was nothing to boast about; the Votiaks' "pagan worldview" was still very powerful because Russians' cultural influence on them had been so weak. "We still know our inorodtsy poorly, and relate poorly to them. That is why culture is taking to them so slowly. Our ignorance and incompetence show even when we have approached them with good intentions."53 Klements at least concurred with Korolenko that the case should be a source of shame to Russians, if for a slightly different reason. Pavel N. Luppov, a school official in the Holy Synod, spoke at the Russian Geographical Society and published several newspaper articles in defense of the Votiaks, using logic similar to Korolenko's. Luppov's archival research showed a considerable degree of residential and marital mixing between Russians and Votiaks since the 183os (a point also made in Smirnov's monograph, he noted), which he took as proof that the Votiaks were beyond the stage at which human sacrifice might be practiced. Luppov's research also revealed no official mention of Votiak human sacrifice rituals. 54 The Moscow ethnographer Petr Bogaevskii published a book-length critique ofSmirnov's testimony in the case, finding fault with the professor's use of folklore and his assertions that the Votiaks might have tolerated deviations from their usual protocol for sacrifice rituals to sacrifice Matiunin.55 52 D. A. Klements, "Novaia stadiia multanskogo dela," Vostochnoe obozrenie, Mar. 6, r896. As early as r89o, Bogaevskii had made the same point about the borrowing of folklore in a critique ofSmirnov's work: "Ocherki religioznykh verovanii votiakov," EO, October-December r89o, 6o. Another ethnographer noticed this mistake only in 1897, after the Multan case had been settled: Nikolai Kharuzin, review of Trudy VIII-go arkheologicheskogo s"ezda v Moskve 1890 g., vol. 3, EO, October-December 1897, 146-47· 53 Klements, "Novaia stadiia." 54 P. N. Luppov, "Ob obstanovke votskikh zhertvoprinoshenii v sviazi s dannymi multanskogo dela," VK, May 7 and 9, 1896; idem, "Ocherk istorii votiakov," VK, July 27, Aug. 3, u, and 31, r896; idem, "Prinosilis' li votiakami chelovecheskie zhertvy v XVIII v.?" VK, Sept. 19 and 21, r 896; idem, "Fantasticheskii obychai," Novosti i birzhevaia gazeta, May 8 and 9, I 896; idem, "Iz istorii," II. 32-330b.; and idem, "Pis'mo v redaktsiiu," SPV, Mar. 17, r896. See also I. Poplavskii, "Po povodu vozrazheniia g. Luppova," SPV, Apr. 26, 1896; 0. M. Zhirnov, "Otvet g. Poplavskomu," VK, Mar. 30, 1896; and P. N. Luppov, "Po povodu otveta g. Poplavskogo," VK, May 25, 1896. 55 P.M. Bogaevskii, Multanskoe "molenie" votiakov v svete etnog;raficheskikh dannykh (Moscow, 1896).

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V. M. Mikhailovskii, a lecturer at Moscow University, officer in the Moscow Society for the Lovers of Natural History, and author of a book on shamanism, suggested that Smirnov had been led astray by his devotion to European theories and his pursuit of "literary polish" over empirical data in his writings. Indeed, he wrote, Smirnov could achieve only a shallow firsthand knowledge of his ethnographic subjects because his knowledge of the Finno-Ugric languages was mediocre at best. 56 Another ethnographer, Stefan K. Kuznetsov, argued that Smirnov's familiarity with Votiak sacrifice rituals was only superficial. Kuznetsov, formerly secretary of the OAIE in Kazan and now librarian of Tomsk University, had been born and raised near Multan and had himself researched Votiak sacrifices extensively, even managing to see some of the most secretive ones. 57 In a speech to the Tomsk Society of Naturalists and Physicians, Kuznetsov decried Smirnov's inability to distinguish the Votiaks' past from their present. Even in far-off Tomsk, Kuznetsov reminisced later, emotions ran so high with regard to the case that his position put him at odds with V. M. Florinskii, chief of the Tomsk Education Circuit, who was such an ardent believer in the Votiaks' guilt that he "foamed at the mouth" whenever he spoke of the case. 58 By the spring of I 896, printed opinion weighed heavily in defense of the Multan Votiaks. Korolenko's hypothesis of the disfiguration of Matiunin's body in poor simulation of a sacrifice gathered strong support, including that of medical experts. 59 Among ethnographers in Russia, Smimov was virtually isolated in his public support of the prosecution and his assertions of the currency ofVotiak human sacrifice. His response to the attacks on his ethnography only further exposed the contradictions in his own views. "Korolenko," he asserted, "finds that [the Votiak] spirits are too minor for such sacrifices to be brought to them in the present day, but the essence of the matter is that they are anthropophages. Therefore, Votiak gods can demand a human sacrifice and such sacrifices are not against their nature." The "'rumors of unknown origin,' as the facts in the literature on the Votiaks might be called by juridical standards," he argued, were in agreement "with historical information about the Votiaks in general ... , with the nature of the Votiak gods, inasmuch as it is shown to us in the works of Votiak folklore ... , [and] with the references to human sacrifices that one sees in the Votiak epos and in the epos of the related Cheremises."60 In other words, Smirnov implied, specula56

V. M. Mikhailovskii, "Otkrytoe pis'mo g. prof. I. N. Smirnovu," VV, Apr. 23, 1896.

Kuznetsov had once before, in 1885, used his knowledge to debunk a rumor about Votiak human sacrifice reported in newspapers: Kuznetsov, "Iz vospominanii," 32-35. 58 Kuznetsov, open letter to I. N. Smirnov, Sibirskii vestnik, Apr. 5, 1896, and "Iz vospominanii," 34-35. Only one ethnographer, Vasilii K. Magnitskii (a retired school inspector and expert on the Chuvashes), used the pages of the OAIE Izvestiia, Smirnov's home journal, to denounce legends ofVotiak human sacrifice, and he did so without attacking Smirnov directly: M. K. Korbut, Vasilii Konstantinovich Magnitskii i ego trudy: r83g-rgor gg. (Cheboksary, 1929), 79· 59 Shatenshtein, Multanskoe delo, 58-61; "Chelovecheskie zhertvoprinosheniia"; Luppov, Gromkoe delo, 23-24. 60 Luppov, Gromkoe delo, 45· 57

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tion as to the Votiaks' current belief system was irrelevant; the general "nature" or "essence" of their gods was not something historically changeable but timeless, and discoverable by the gathering of information from various eras. In any event, Smirnov denied that the prosecutors had relied significantly on his testimony. "All the expert testimony-medical and ethnographiccould have been utter nonsense; but it was not all that underlay the jury's verdict. The verdict as a whole, most likely, was determined by the circumstances in the witnesses' testimony." Smirnov rejected Korolenko's claim that circumstances and testimony had been falsified to protect the real murderers, and he seemed to assume that the defense must prove the defendants innocent. On Korolenko's hypothesis that Matiunin's corpse had been subjected to a simulated sacrifice, he concluded, "For the seven men from Multan, that version of the affair is undoubtedly favorable, and their individual case, ifKorolenko can prove his position, will surely be won. But the Votiaks in general, the Votiak cultural type, and the Russian cultural type-which he is defending simultaneously-will not appear at all the better: only that is simulated which takes place in reality."61 If Smirnov had ever really embraced the principal tenets of evolutionism, by now he had renounced them. Tylor's egalitarian doctrine of universal evolutionary paths notwithstanding, he evidently thought of societies on different rungs of the evolutionary ladder as different not just in circumstance but in essence. He created the impression that the past of the Votiaks had been more primitive than that of others such as the Russians, and it did not occur to him to hold the Russians responsible for their folklore as he did the Volga Finns for theirs. In effect, he had twisted evolutionism's methods so that any people he identified by survivals as relatively closer to its primitive origins than another would be judged as primitive in absolute terms. Driagin appealed the case once again, not only detailing the various procedural improprieties that had remained from the first trial or emerged in the second, but also challenging the reliability of the ethnographic references Smirnov had cited on Votiak human sacrifice. 62 On December 22, 1895, before a large crowd, the Senate quashed the second conviction and moved the case to the Kazan Circuit Court for another retrial. This was a highly unusual event in Russian jurisprudence. Senator Anatolii F. Koni, the renowned jurist and chief of the Senate's criminal appeals department, delivered a powerful opinion on the nature of the case. Through this judicial investigation not only the guilt of the individual defendants is being established; a claim is being made about an everyday phenomenon, a judgment is being pronounced on a whole nationality or a whole social stratum and I

61 I. N. Smirnov, review of "0 multanskom zhertvoprinoshenii," by V. G. Korolenko, Deiatel' (January 1896): 46, 47· 62 Luppov, "Iz istorii," II. II-I9.

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a precedent is being set, which may for future time have the meaning of a judicial affirmation of the guilt of one group of the population or another. The result of the court's action in such instances is not only the res judicata, but historical license for or against a particular moral evaluation of a given level of culture-in a whole nationality or in certain of its classes. The grounds for [such] a verdict ... must be subjected to a much more rigorous test than the motives and facts by which a conviction is given for an ordinary murder. 63

Koni implied that ethnographic generalizations had taken on a significant role in the case precisely as a substitute for particular evidence of the Votiaks' guilt, which in spite of extensive fabrication had not been produced convincingly. Koni also addressed the larger meaning he felt the case had taken on with regard to the relative prestige of different ethnic groups in Russia. Perceiving that Russian chauvinists saw the conviction of the Votiaks as a victory, Koni warned that from another perspective the conviction raised the question "whether sufficient and appropriate measures have been taken for Russia's fulfillment, in the course of its several centuries of governing the Votiak homeland, of its Christian cultural and educational mission."64 Reportedly, Konstantin P. Pobedonostsev was especially displeased by this last comment (as ober-prokuror of the Holy Synod, Pobedonostsev had pushed the church in a more aggressive direction in its missions to people of nonChristian religions).65 The minister of justice, M. V. Murav'ev, felt Koni had judged the misdeeds of the Sarapul court too harshly. According to some historians, Pobedonostsev, Murav'ev, and perhaps other St. Petersburg authorities meddled in the case to prevent the overturning of the verdicts. They sought not only to protect the judicial system from losing credibility: they also found propaganda against ethnic minorities politically useful, and Murav' ev feared that the publicity resulting from an acquittal could harm his own relationship with the tsar. 66 As a result, notwithstanding the overwhelming turn in public opinion, in the local courts the cards were again heavily stacked in favor of the prosecution. The defense asked the Kazan Circuit Court to try the case in Kazan itself, where the jurors were likely to be better educated than in the previous locations and would be farther removed from provincial rumors about the Votiaks. The trial, however, was held in the city of Mamadysh, on the far eastern edge of the province-just twenty-five miles from Elabuga, where the previous trial had been held. The court also asked permission to have Raevskii prosecute the case once more, in light of (as it claimed) Raevskii's previous success in the handling of the investigative material, his skill at argumenta63 Quoted in Korolenko, "Reshenie Senata po multanskomu delu," in PSS, 4:41 3-14; empha' sis in original. 64 Quoted inS. Vysotskii, Knni (Moscow, rg88), z88. 65 Ibid., z88-8g. 66 Khudiakov, "Politicheskoe znachenie," 56.

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tion, and his thorough knowledge of the life of the Votiaks. In light of the Senate's findings on Raevskii, even the compromise granted by the minister of justice, allowing Raevskii to assist a prosecutor from the circuit court, was remarkable. The court also hurried to dismiss the charges of police misconduct in the investigation so that the defense in the next trial could not link them with the issue of the Votiaks' guilt or innocence. 67 The defense was allowed the assistance of the famous Petersburg lawyer N. P. Karabchevskii and of Korolenko. But its requests to summon a new ethnographic witness (Kuznetsov in place ofVereshchagin), new medical witnesses, and several others who could refute important details of the indictment were all turned down, even after Driagin offered to pay their expenses himself. The prosecution was permitted ten new witnesses. 68 At the request of the court, Kazan newspapers were forbidden to print or reprint articles on the case prior to the trial. In the courtroom, Driagin was permitted to cite only sources not directly related to the case; anything written in favor of the defendants was banned.69 In spite of these procedural advantages, the evidence against the prosecution was overwhelming by the time of the trial, which took place from May 28 to June 4, 1896. Even without proper witnesses, the defense took full advantage of all damage done to the prosecutor's case at the previous trial and since. The prosecution desperately attempted to introduce new ethnographic evidence, which the defense easily dismissed as irrelevant. 70 Baranov later recalled, "The factual part of the prosecution's case collapsed like a house of cards."71 In the ethnographic section of the trial, it was evident that Smimov's opinion had only been hardened by his battles in the press. If previously he had had any reservations about the correspondence between the facts in the case and a typical Votiak human sacrifice, in the third trial, according to Baranov, Smimov "no longer had any doubts about anything." He offered justifications for every possibly discrepancy. "Drawing together all the evidence from the indictment, [Smimov] started trying to prove that all the facts of the prosecution established without a doubt that the Multan Votiaks really did offer [Matiunin] as a sacrifice." So determined was he that the judge had to remind him, "You have been summoned not as a prosecutor, but as an expert who is supposed to say what he knows about human sacrifices."72 Again, Vereshchagin's ethnographic statements for the defense were vague 67 Luppov, "Iz istorii," 11. 34-35, z8-3o. The correspondence on the venue of the trial, Luppovshows (37-38), suggested that the court intended to pick a jury of as many peasants and as few townspeople as possible. 68 Ibid., II. 38-45. 69 Baranov, "Iz vospominanii," 165; Luppov, "Iz istorii," 11. 48-49, and "Kazanskie sudebnye uchrezhdeniia," 11. I5-I8. 70 N. P. Karabchevskii, Rechi, I88z-Igoz, zd ed. (St. Petersburg, 1902), 369-70. 71 Baranov, "Iz vospominanii," r67. 72 Ibid., 169-70; Karabchevskii, Rechi, 339·

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and unpersuasive. 73 But Korolenko too had prepared an ethnographic defense. Speaking on the evolution of religious consciousness and citing Smirnov's own publications, Korolenko argued that the Votiaks had progressed considerably from crude paganism toward Christian monotheism. 74 He asked Smirnov to explain the contradiction between his position in the case and his earlier view that Votiak human sacrifice had gone extinct long ago. "Earlier that was what I thought," Smirnov replied, "but from this case I have been convinced that human sacrifices still take place in the present day."75 When Karabchevskii addressed the jury, he noted that the case had even altered the way Smirnov defined survivals. "From [Smirnov's] own works, I had gathered that a 'survival' fperezhivanie] is the form that remains when the spirit [of a custom] has already departed. It is like a petrified artifact, or the skeleton of an antediluvian mammoth, by which we can judge what used to be but no longer is. Now in his eyes a 'survival' is a sort of prehistoric re-eruption [otryzhka] that emerges actually, anew, in all its flesh and blood."76 On June 4, Korolenko made the closing statement for the defense. Admitting the evidence that the Votiaks had once practiced human sacrifice, he charged that by belaboring this point the prosecution was "banging on an open door": nearly every human society had practiced it, including the Russians with their tale of the cannibal Baba-yaga.77 In conclusion, to impress the jurors with the profound Christianity and childlike innocence of the Votiaks, Korolenko recited a Votiak prayer in Russian. His depiction of the naivete in the syncretic animist-Christian religion of the inorodtsy and the overall pathos of his performanc must have strongly evoked Korolenko's own short story about a native Siberian, "Makar's Dream," published eleven years earlier.78 "Korolenko's emotion kept on growing," recalled Baranov. "Finally he couldn't contain it, began to cry, and left the room.... Everybody was captivated, shaken." After deliberating for only fifteen minutes, the jury pronounced all seven defendants acquitted, and much of the courtroom erupted in jubilation.79 Epilogue and Conclusion Strains of the Multan case reverberated for years in Russian public opinion. In the long run, the defendants' two convictions may well have made a 73 "Vazhnost' issledovaniia votskikh religioznykh obychaev," Narod, Nov. u, 1897; Baranov, "Iz vospominanii," 170; Kuznetsov, "Uspekhi," 105. 74 S. V. Korolenko, Desiat' let v provintsii (Izhevsk, 1966), 206. 75 Baranov, "Iz vosporninanii," 170. 76 Karabchevskii, Rechi, 357· 77 S. V. Korolenko, Desiat' let, 207-8; F. D. Batiushkov, V. G. Korolenko kak chelovek i pisatel' (Moscow, 1922), rr8-2o. 78 "Son Makara (Sviatochnyi rasskaz)," in PSS, 1:3-27. 79 Baranov, "Iz vosporninanii," 171-72.

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stronger impression than their final acquittal. Later in I896 Matiunin's head reportedly turned up and a Russian man confessed to the murder. He and another had framed the Votiaks because the village of Staryi Multan had refused to accept them after they had been expelled from their own village, Anyk; the murderers had hoped to get the land the Votiaks would vacate when they went to prison for the crime. This development remained largely unknown, however, and the case was not reopened. 80 Though much of the educated public was convinced that the case had been a sham, allegations of the guilt of the Multan Votiaks and of the Votiaks in general continued to be published. 81 As late as I9IO Kuznetsov wrote that many intelligent people still "keep careful watch for any opportunity to accuse the Votiaks of human sacrifice."82 And indeed, the prosecution in the I9I3 Beilis trial used the Multan case, in spite of its final outcome, as a supposed precedent of a ritual murder case.83 Even to its critics, the case dramatized concerns about the efficacy of Russification efforts among the inorodtsy. "No matter where the legend about Votiak cannibalism came from," asserted the illustrated weekly Niva, "one thing is certain: that the darkness holding the Votiaks in its power creates favorable and perhaps understandable grounds for the development of such legends. "84 Fear of Votiak human sacrifice surfaced in a church report to a missionary convention in Kazan in I 897, and archival records show that near the turn of the century some parishes undertook aggressively to stamp out the "pagan" traditions of their non-Russian members.85 A Soviet ethnographer, writing in the I93os, said that continuing rumors ofVotiak human sacrifices in the Volga countryside even influenced the collectivization campaign there. 86 For his part, Smirnov lost credibility among his fellow ethnographers, and soon abandoned· the study of the Finnic peoples and of ethnography altogether, returning to his previous interests. 87 Within government institutions, however, his prestige had grown by leaps and bounds, and he was showered 8o Khudiakov, "Politicheskoe delo," 58; idem, "Novae v Multanskom dele," in RNB, f. 828, d. 10, l. 12ob.; Shatenshtein, Multanskoe delo, 6. 8 1 See the series of articles by N. K. Kabardin in Narod, Sept. 14, 20, 25; Oct. 2; Nov. 15, 16, 23, 27; Dec. 2 and 25, 1897; N. N. Blinov, lazycheskii kul't votiakov (Viatka, 1898). For a critical perspective, see two works by V. G. Korolenko, both in PSS: "Zhivuchest' predrassudkov (0 doklade sviashchennika Blinova: 'Novye fakty iz oblasti chelovecheskikb zhertvoprinoshenii')," 4:431-49, and "Iz Viatskogo kraia ('Uchenyi trod' o chelovecheskikb zhertvoprinosheniiakb)," 4:45o--64- For references to the case in the foreign press, see Korolenko, "Bibliograficheskaia zametka," in PSS, 4:421-22; and Shatenshtein, Multanskoe delo, 6o. 82 Kuznetsov, "Uspekhi," 112. 83 A German book on blood rituals, by Hermann L. Strack, had included the Multan incident as an example, and had been translated into Russian; the prosecutors of the Beilis case referred to this book. See V. G. Korolenko, "Beilis i multantsy," in PSS, 9:310-14. 84 "Inorodcheskie shkoly," Niva 45 (1896), 1124; emphasis in original. 85 I. D'iakonov, "Verovaniia i kul't votiakov-iazychnikov i kreshchennykb (Po povodu multanskogo deJa)," MO,June 1898, 878-89, and September 1898, 1181-86; NART, f. 4, op. 131, d. 31;op. 133,dd. 20,22;0p. 134,d. 34· 86 Khudiakov, "Politicheskoe dele," 62. 87 Kuznetsov, "Uspekbi," 102-3; idem, obituary for I. N. Smirnov, EO, April-June 1904, 216.

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with honors and appointments. 88 He died in 1904 at the age of forty-eight. By mobilizing to expose Smimov's mistakes and to discredit his use of ethnological theory, Russian ethnographers had managed to salvage the honor and prestige of their field in the eyes of liberal society. They did so not as a professional group, for ethnography was not yet defined in such terms. Some, using particular knowledge ofVotiak beliefs and rituals, directly damaged the credibility of the witnesses and therefore of the prosecution's murder scenario. Some of the key players in the ethnographic refutation of Smimov, such as Korolenko and Baranov, were not experienced observers of the Votiaks, but by sound logic they exposed the prosecution's abuse of ethnography. At times they acknowledged that ethnography's place in the courtroom, if indeed it had any at all, was very limited. Since we do not know exactly which evidence or arguments were the pivotal ones in determining the course of the case, and since furthermore we are interested not only in the case's legal outcome but also in its various contemporary interpretations, no one account of the "essence" of the case is sufficient. From one perspective, it was a power struggle between subjective prejudices and objective evidence, and between corruption and fairness in judicial procedures. But it was also a contest between different subjective beliefs and prejudices. Because the available sources show rather convincingly that the men from Staryi Multan had not murdered Matiunin, and that their two convictions were miscarriages of justice, it is easy to overlook the ways in which the Votiaks' defenders relied no less than their accusers on tendentious beliefs and leaps of faith. Both sides of the case, albeit to an unequal extent, misused the authority of anthropological science by exaggerating its ability to corroborate or refute the accusations against the Votiaks. Smimov claimed that a survival of a practice in folklore was incontrovertible proof of its objective and even continued existence, neglecting to notice that even proof of the general phenomenon would not suffice logically to settle the particular case at hand. Perhaps because of Smimov's impressive credentials and authoritative performance in court, the defense had no choice but to wield the power of science in its own way, insinuating that a proper interpretation of evolutionism proved that the Votiaks could not have committed a human sacrifice. 89 The possibility that this 88 As mentioned in Chapter 5, both the Imperial Academy of Sciences and the Imperial Russian Geographical Society awarded prizes to Smirnov for his work on the Volga Finnic peoples. Smirnov was also repeatedly reappointed a trustee of the Kazan Education Circuit, a position he had been given several months after the second Multan trial. RGIA, f. 733, op. 143, d. 40; op. 142, dd. 938, u6o; op. 151, d. 583, ll. 49-49ob. 89 Though Korolenko mostly insinuated that this was the case, one of the key ethnographers who commented on the case, Petr M. Bogaevskii, stated it explicitly. Challenging Smirnov's use of the concept of survivals, he used equally problematic reasoning: "The presence of 'survivals' [perezhivaniia] of a known ritual ... serves as the best indicator that the ritual itself has disappeared from life and that its continued existence must be considered an impossible anachronism." In effect, Bogaevskii reasoned that everything that appears in folklore is by definition a survival and therefore outdated. Bogaevskii, Multanskoe "molenie," 1-2, 101.

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logic was a tactical choice of the defense rather than a sincere belief, of course, does not diminish its importance to the case. Similarly, both sides relied on subjective notions about Russians as a collectivity. To much of the ethnic-Russian public and officialdom (and perhaps other nationalities too), a ritual murder trial, in addition to deflecting attention from political dissent and social unrest, buttressed national pride by underscoring the supposed barbarity of a neighboring people. In more general terms, to have an empire was to have other peoples at one's disposal to identify as consistently inferior to one's own. The prestige of Russians and others was a zero-sum economy; to reproach and punish the other was to exalt the self. For this purpose the Multan accusations were timely, following a famine that ravaged much of the heartland's peasantry and raised the question whether the vulnerability of the Russian people themselves was an indicator of backwardness or primitiveness. An alternative construct of the empire was one in which the prestige of the Russians was in symbiosis rather than competition with images of minorities such as the Votiaks, stressing the Russians' role as benefactors in the improvement of colonized peoples. This civilizing mission was an overarching theme of much of Russian historiography and ethnography in the late nineteenth century, including Smirnov's. To many Russians, presumably, this historical role and the pride associated with it were defining elements of national identity. Just as apples would not fall far from a tree, it was thought, the fate of inorodtsy nurtured for decades and centuries by Russian influence would reflect the merits or shortcomings of the Russians themselves. In part, this was how defenders of the Votiaks such as Korolenko and Koni sought to turn the tide of public opinion in the Multan case. We will never know, of course, how pivotal this argument was, but we can plausibly speculate that it was more strategic than heartfelt. The defense wanted to make the Votiaks' conviction appear contrary to Russians' self-interest in order to undercut the way in which Russian chauvinists were letting their pride get in the way of a fair appraisal of the case. Again, this disingenuousness simply underscores the defense's plausible belief that public opinion and jurors' votes could be swayed by such rhetoric. One of the most ironic aspects of the case was that in refuting the prosecution's assumptions about both the relevance of ethnography and the way the case reflected on Russians as a people, the defense relied heavily on the previously stated ideas of a key witness for the prosecution, Smirnov. No doubt Smirnov's ethnographic thinking between 1890 and 1896 and his behavior in the case reflect an unusual personality. He seems to have contained the entirety of the Multan case in his own head-not only was he responsible for key lines of argument for both the prosecution and defense, but even the receptivity to such a case in local officialdom and public opinion might be attributable to his own influence.90 90 It is perhaps tempting to see Smirnov as a puppet of conservative forces in tsarist society and officialdom (such as Pobedonostsev and Murav'ev). Yet evidence of Smirnov's liberal or even rad-

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Certainly, other personalities and motives were also crucial to the case. Some observers argued for the primary role of Raevskii's ambition to make a name for himself in the Russian legal world, and even perhaps to establish a precedent for future cases againstJews.91 At least one historian has described the case as a ploy for creating a stir about animist religions in Russia in order to justify a change in policy and Inissionary methods toward non-Christian religions.92 As we will see in the following chapter, after Nikolai Il'minskii's death in I 89 I his system of using native languages and native cadres in missionary schools suffered widespread attack from within the church and other institutions. The claim of ritual murder may have dramatized some clergy's belief that more forceful, less deferential measures should be taken to make inorodtsy conform and acculturate. Still, the case Inight never have materialized at all had Smimov never taken up ethnography. In any event, the unfolding of the case suggests that his confusion encapsulated a conflict of values already present in Russian society. And there was a certain logic to this confusion. After all, the different notions of Russian identity underlying the prosecution and defense shared the sense that the inorodtsy could not simply be; in one way or another they had to serve the prestige of the empire's dominant nationality. For Smimov, the choice between the two manifested itself as wavering between different interpretations of evolutionist terminology and contrasting descriptions of the Votiaks. Smimov had thought that the process of civilizing and Russifying the Finnic minorities of the Volga would be a completed achievement in a matter of several decades, and in effect those inferior peoples would cease to exist. But his intuition may have told him that retrospective pride in the cultural transfiguration of the primitive would never equal the gratification of having the primitives still at hand for easy comparison. In Western Europe, evolutionism's threat to traditional values and beliefs lay principally in its claims about the past. Even if essential cultural difference was in a sense an illusion (as the evolutionists implied), at least the British and French could choose to maintain that illusion by disregarding their own primitive past and remaining in relative isolation from the peoples they deemed still to be primitive. In the Russian empire, however, with different ethnic groups cohabiting and mixing to a much greater extent than in other European countries and their colonies, ical sympathies is overwhelming. He was interested in Marxism and social democracy, and embraced Tylor in a similarly progressive spirit. See his correspondence with the editor of lstoricheskii vestnik in RNB, f. 874, op. I, d. 20,11. 8I-83; lu. V. Pakhomov, "1. N. Smirnovv pis'makh k S. N. Shubinskomu," in Biog;rafiia issledovatelia kak zhanr slavistiki: Sbornik nauchnykh trudov (Tver, I99I), I02-I3; and official suspicions ofSmirnov's subversive tendencies in RGIA, f. 733, op. ISO, d. 944, 11. I8-20, 33-36, 44-47, 64; and in GARF, f. Io2, 0.0., r898, d. 526. See also Geraci, "Window on the East," 296-98. 91 Baranov, "lz vospominanii," I 54; Khudiakov, "Politicheskoe delo," 54· 92 V. Maksimov, "Vvedenie," in Luppov, Gromkoe delo, 5-8. I do not share Maksimov's view, however, that the case was planned by some central figure as early as I885, when a priest claimed to have been captured by Votiaks to be sacrificed.

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evolutionist anthropology posed the additional threat of predicting an unfamiliar future order.93 Smirnov's misinterpretation and misuse of evolutionism's ideas and methods, and his consignment of the Votiaks to perpetual savagery, then, were his ways of reassuring Russians that they would always be special. 93 It is this difference in imperial circumstances that I see as most important in causing the particular distortions of evolutionism in the case. I am not suggesting that Smimov's misuse of evolutionism was a result of Russia's reputed scientific "backwardness." As mentioned earlier, some key concepts in evolutionism were flawed or ambiguous from the outset, and English anthropologists were as guilty as Smirnov of twisting the theory so as to drain it of its universalist intentions and to victimize "uncivilized" peoples. See, for instance, George Stocking's discussion of evolutionism's conceptual role in the extinction of the Tasmanians, in Victorian Anthropology (New York, 1987). 2 74-83.

7

Il'minskii's System under Siege

In 1904, Bishop Khrisanf of Cheboksary publicly criticized the Korean-language translations recently prepared by the Kazan Teachers' Seminary. The bishop, former head of Russian Orthodox missions in Seoul, claimed that many Korean children in the Russian Far East were already learning Russian successfully in school. The translations, according to Khrisanf, were delaying-unnecessarily and often against their subjects' will-the Russification of the Koreans, which had been Nikolai Il'minskii's ultimate goal. Even worse, the bishop charged, the translations were in a bastardized and poorly transliterated version of Korean, a "laboratory invention" ofll'minskii's scholarly followers.! The charges elicited a response from Nikolai Bobrovnikov, Il'minskii's hand-picked successor, defending the seminary, its translations, and its interpretation of Il'minskii's pedagogical views. In addition to challenging the bishop's impression that Russian was widespread among Koreans and that Korean translations were being overused, Bobrovnikov took issue with Khrisanf's spelling and usage of the word "Russification." The bishop had used the spelling obrusenie (o6pyceHMe), which was the noun form of the transitive verb obrusit'. According to Bobrovnikov, the preferable form of the word was obrusienie (o6pycimMe), from the intransitive verb obruset'. The difference in meaning was vital. In the bishop's usage Russification was an act performed on another person or people, whereas Bobrovnikov understood Russification as an essentially voluntary process achieved without foreign agency. 2 'Ep. Khrisanf, "K voprosu o perevodakh na inorodcheskie iazyki," IKE, 1904, 1379-84. A. Bobrovnikov, "K voprosu o perevodakh na inorodcheskie iazyki," IKE, 1904, 1482-86. In the second variant the Russian vowel t is transliterated ie. However, since this vowel ceased to exist after the orthographic reforms of 1917, this difference in spelling became moot. Moreover, the word russifikatsiia is now commonly used to denote transitive Russification, while obrusenie (o6pyceHrre) assumes the intransitive meaning. 2 N.

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Bobrovnikov asserted that the transitive usage of the word denotes not only active but forcible or violent (nasil'stvennoe) Russification. Khrisanf denied this and pointed out that even Il'minskii's understanding ofRussification was not entirely intransitive. Il'minskii had never advocated just waiting for the inorodtsy to come to him of their own volition, but had established an active, Russian-led campaign to recruit them. In the bishop's opinion, the Il'minskii system was more exploitative of the inorodtsy than other methods since it forced them to learn artificial languages even when they would rather concentrate on Russian) Though Bobrovnikov's etymology was correct, the two spellings of"Russification" had been used interchangeably in Russian without being perceived as having different meanings. Though this linguistic artifact was not of great significance in and of itself, it captured the essence of a wide-ranging controversy that had ensued over Il'minskii's work by the end of the nineteenth century. Not only did advocates and opponents of Il'minskii harbor different ideals of cultural integration. Even within the camp supporting the continued use of his methods there was fundamental disagreement on exactly what those methods were and what they represented.4 "For a long time," Il'minskii wrote to Pobedonostsev shortly before he died, "hostility and abuse from various quarters and of various content have been rising up against the schooling of the non-Russians .... There are people who are almost waiting for my death, supposing that I am the only support and defense of the inorodtsy."5 He died on December 27, 1891, and within six weeks Bobrovnikov reported to Pobedonostsev that unfavorable articles on Il'minskii had begun to appear in the Kazan press. "I hope very much," wrote Bobrovnikov, "that your authoritative voice will put a halt to the backlash [reaktsiia] in [the education of inorodtsy], which has already begun to emerge." Bobrovnikov himself was already making plans to publish Il'minskii's essays and correspondence, to commission biographies, and to change the name of the School for Baptized Tatars to theN. I. Il'minskii School.6 Il'minskii had spent a great deal of time defending his ideas and methods of Russification, but his extraordinary charisma and expertise had usually won his adversaries over and instilled confidence in doubters . After his death, however, objections to the methods and institutions he had established became more frequent, more conspicuous, and, most important, more destructive. To some degree the explanation lies in Il'minskii's successors, who sim3 Ep. Khrisanf, "Eshche po voprosu o perevodakh na inorodcheskie iazyki," IKE, 1904, 157o-7 2· 4 After this debate, a small circle of Bobrovnikov's colleagues continued deliberately to use the intransitive spelling of obrusenie. See, for instance, Ep. Andrei, "Ob obrusenii" (1910), in 0 prosveshchenii privolzhskikh inorodtsev: 30 nomerov zhurnala "Sotrudnika Bratstva Sviat. Guriia" (Kazan, 1910), 58-61. 5 N. I. Il'minskii, Pis'ma N. I. Il'minskogo k Ober-prokuroru Sviateishogo Sinoda Konstantinu Petrovichu Pobedonostsevu (Kazan, 1895), 375-76. 6 BLKU, d. 6424, II. 20b., 3. The name of the school was never changed after all.

Il'minskii's System under Siege

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5

ply failed to fill his shoes. In addition, the new generation of leaders sometimes had different motivations and operated under different assumptions. Because Il'minskii's own views were at times concealed, ambiguous, or even contradictory, it is hardly surprising that his legacy was hotly contested. Larger forces were also at work, however. Controversies from the middle of the nineteenth century about the dissemination of Russian nationality looked different from the standpoint of developments such as socialist agitation, nationalist resistance to Russification efforts elsewhere in the empire, military defeat in East Asia, and the advent of electoral politics and religious toleration. Changes in the nature and scope of public discourse also had a transforming effect on these debates. For most of the nineteenth century, discussions of church missions and schools for minorities had occupied only a tiny part of the Russian public. Now, in a rapidly changing climate, more voices entered the debate. As the schools became more successful and better known (as large mass-circulation newspapers from the capitals began to print articles on the nature and fate of the Il'minskii project, for instance), detractors and disparagers began to come out of the woodwork.? The obstacles that had challenged the Il'minskii's schools earlier now paled in comparison with political and ideological antagonism. Nikolai A. Bobrovnikov, unlike both his natural father and his adoptive father, was not an orientalist. Before taking over the Kazan Teachers' Seminary he had been a teacher of mathematics. He had no special knowledge of generallinguistics or of the languages of eastern Russia. It was not long, therefore, before the seminary became the target of scholarly criticism from specialists such as Bishop Khrisanf. One more example will suffice. In 1894, the St. Gurii Brotherhood's translation commission had begun to translate religious texts into Kalmyk for use in two Il'minskii schools recently founded in Astrakhan province. One of the publications, through Bobrovnikov's oversight, was released without the approval of the theological academy's professor of Kalmyk, and proved to be considerably flawed. A. M. Pozdneev, Russia's leading expert on Mongolian languages, delivered a harsh review. Whereas, in Pozdneev's opinion, the commission had used a fairly satisfactory Cyrillic transcription in its two previous Kalmyk books, the present translator (the "best student" in the Kazan missionary courses) had suddenly adopted a new and inferior system. The result was "a monstrous distortion of Kalmyk sounds, indicating clearly the translator's complete ignorance of the rules not only of Kalmyk but also of Russian. "8 By drawing too sharp a distinction between literary and colloquial Mongolian dialects-eschewing the former entirely-the Kazan commission had 71. Ia. Iakovlev, Vospominaniia, 2d ed. (Cheboksary, I 983), I 2o-2 3. Iakovlev himself became the subject of so many harsh accusations in the press that he successfully sued a number of publications for libel during the years I906-IO (ibid., 125-27, 255-56). 8 A. M. Pozdneev, "Eshche po voprosu o poslednikh izdaniiakh Pravoslavnogo Missionerskogo Obshchestva na kalmytskom iazyke," ZhMNP 302 (November I895): I6o.

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Nikolai A. Bobrovnikov, director of the Kazan Teachers' Seminary, r 905. He holds a copy of the proceedings of the Ministry of Education conference reaffirming its commitment to the Il'minskii system. (By permission Kazan University Library, Manuscript Division.)

grossly underestimated the size of the vocabulary understandable by the Kalmyks, and therefore had sacrificed the precision of its translation. Most likely, the underqualified translator knew fewer words than his intended readers, so the translation was unnecessarily "vulgar," unsuitable for religious material.9 The most regrettable result, Pozdneev pointed out, was that many of the colloquial words used by the translator to convey Christian concepts were in fact laden with patently non-Christian-that is, Buddhist or shamanisticconnotations.IO The translation, in Pozdneev's words, was "literally shameful to Christianity." "This worthless and blasphemous book," he concluded, "[should] be taken out of use immediately and in the future the translation commission ... should be more careful in these sorts of publications."!! 9 Idem, "Poslednie izdaniia Pravoslavnogo Missionerskogo Obshchestva na razgovornom kalmytskom iazyke," ZhMNP 298 (March r895), 206- 7; idem, "Eshche povoprosu," 163 . See also RGIA, f. 733. op. r7J, d. 106, I. 4o-4oob. lO Pozdneev, "Poslednie izdaniia," 2 ro-T 2; idem, "Eshche po voprosu," r64. II Idem, "Poslednie izdaniia," 216,221-22.

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7

Bobrovnikovwas typical, Pozdneev said, ofll'minskii's followers, who, "desiring to show that they are imitating Il'minskii perfectly, are committing inconceivable slander against him." He had overestimated Il'minskii's dependence on poorly educated native-speaking children (pupils of the Kazan schools) to compose his translations, and believed that he himself did not need to know Kalmyk in order to evaluate the translations. Pozdneev recalled that Il'minskii had in reality been wary of his pupils' ability to translate without extensive training, and held firmly to the belief that "in the translation of Christian books into the inorodets languages the cooperation between Russians and inorodtsy is essential, and moreover the Russians must take the leading, active role." The members of the translation commission most directly engaged in Mongolian translations were well aware of the primitive state of their work, according to Pozdneev. But Bobrovnikov's overly defensive stance toward criticism suggested complacency, as if the commission's knowledge and methods were beyond reproach.l2

Malov and the Clerical Opposition Il'minskii had been known as a church man; though never ordained, he was a seminary and theological academy graduate and his devotion was rarely questioned. Bobrovnikov, by contrast, was a product of Kazan's gymnasium and university who identified very little with the church. For this reason, he often was unable to assuage the suspicion of clergy and others that Il'minskii's schools represented secular educational authorities' infringement on the church's missionary prerogatives and on its other methods, such as traveling missionaries, charitable work, and polemical meetings. In the journal Missionerskoe obozrenie (Missionary Review) in 1899, Archbishop Nikandr of Simbirsk diocese noted that disagreements over the assimilation of non-Russians in the Volga region were caused by "the unregulated relations between the clergy and officials of the Ministry of Education who participate in the work with inorodtsy."l3 In Il'minskii's system there is something not fully said, not fully agreed upon: the differentiation of Christian training on the one hand and civil education on the other has been forgotten. It is not specified what properly belongs to the Church's mission in the cause of teaching the Gospel to the inorodtsy and how the sph!;!re of influence of laymen, who have set themselves the task of educating the inorodtsy, should be delimited.J4 12 Idem, "Eshche po voprosu," 16, 167, 160, 170. Bobrovnikov's response was Kalmytskie izdaniia Pravoslavnogo Missionerskogo Obshchestva (St. Petersburg, 1895). 13 S. E. N., "K voprosu o bolee zhelatel'noi i tselesoobraznoi postanovske tserkovnoprikhodskoi i shkol'noi missii sredi naseleniia inorodcheskogo srednego Povolzh'ia," MO, November

1899, 440. lakovlev considered the article primarily an attack on his work among the Chuvash in Simbirsk province (Vospominaniia, 108-9). For Bobrovnikov's reaction see "Po povodu stat'i: 'K voprosu o bolee ... ,' "MO, January 1900, 6o-67; February 1900, 246-49· 14 S. E. N., "K voprosu,'' 437·

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Window on the East

Il'minskii, the author pointed out, was never struck by this dilemma because he identified with the church as much as (if not more than) with the secular educational establishment. The fact that Il'minskii had had powers in both spheres caused few problems. Though Nikandr supported the use of non-Russian languages and clergy in the missions, he thought the church had lost control of the matter. He objected to the truncation of clerical education for prospective inorodets clergy and the devaluing of education in general as a qualification for the clergy. He believed too few Russian clergy were being hired to serve in non-Russian parishes. Separate parishes were even being created exclusively for non-Russians, and the schools (instead of the churches) were claiming the central place in parish life and lowering the people's view of the importance of priests.15 Nikandr closed with several demands. The entire sphere of parish life of inorodtsy "must belong exclusively to the diocesan authorities, and outside involvement in these kinds of affairs, as prohibited by church canons as well as by recent statements of the higher church authorities, must not be tolerated." A special antiMuslim missionary should be appointed in each appropriate diocese to handle all non-Russian affairs, he said, and to ensure that schools be coordinated with, not in competition with, church activities. ("So that the missionary schools be truly missionary, to justify their name and to answer to their appointed task, they should be completely removed from the jurisdiction of the Ministry of Education and transferred to the immediate control of the church.") Also, greater care and stricter censorship should be applied to the translation of the Scriptures into other languages. "The translation of the Bible and the liturgy into inorodets languages should by no means be put in the hands of private individuals, especially not theologically uneducated lay individuals."16 Evfimii A. Malov, the leading scholar of missionary polemics and the mentor of many a future missionary at the Kazan Theological Academy, became the key figure in a movement in several Middle Volga dioceses to bring missions back under the church's authority. Though he had been Il'minskii's partner in the founding of the School for Baptized Tatars, Malov had always felt less certain than Il'minskii about the superiority of the schools over other means. For instance, in his diary Malov despaired when the St. Gurii Brotherhood turned down a request from a Chuvash village for a few thousand rubles toward the building of a church, even though it often gave aid to schools and teachers in non-Russian communities. Malov also felt the Brotherhood's aversion to giving material aid to prospective converts was too absolute, and he resented the organization's refusal to publish polemical pamphlets against Islam while it devoted all of its resources to translations.17 Ibid., 442-50. December 1899, 576, 584, 58o (emphasis in original). For a response to this article defending the Il'minskii system, see S. Rybakov, Dukhovenstvo sredi kreshchenykh inorodtsev (St. Petersburg, 1900). 17 BLKU, f. 7, d. 17, 11. qob.-14ob. 15

16 Ibid.,

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After Il'minskii's death, Malov became increasingly vocal about his disappointments and doubts as to the efficacy of the missionary schools. Whereas Bobrovnikov and his camp saw the rapid spread of Islam in the Volga region in the I 88os and I 89os as the continued undoing of the nominal conversions of earlier centuries, Malov believed it was due to more recent mistakes that made missionaries unable to counteract the increasing propaganda of Muslim mullahs and pagan priests. In other words, this apostasy, according to Malov, was occurring not in spite of the spread of Il'minskii's methods but because of it. Malov became convinced that the chief weakness of Il'minskii's approach was its reliance on inorodtsy to staff churches and schools. "lnorodets priests and teachers [are] people of little education, and therefore are unable to work successfully," he wrote in I897.'8 Another missionary (and Malov's former student), Iakov D. Koblov, claimed that Kriashen clergy were unable to keep even their own relatives in the church; indeed, their kin included some of the most "fanatical" apostates.19 Where indigenous clergy were successful, Malov complained, Christianization had not led to other forms of Russification, as 11 'minskii had assumed it would: Orthodox inorodtsy often did not imitate Russians in their dress or their daily habits. The more Malov believed that Il'minskii's methods had backfired, the more he resented the claims of Bobrovnikov and others that most earlier conversions to Orthodoxy had been induced by force, violence, or bribery, and was willing to assert to the contrary that they had generally been voluntary and based on true Christian belief.20 As Malov generally kept silent on these matters in print, he was able to pose as an Il'minskii advocate whenever he considered it expedient to do so; but his diary shows his passionate opposition to many of the fundamental views of the Il'minskii school from the late I89os onward. The diary was not his only outlet: Malov was quite influential in the church, especially in Kazan diocese, and could express his opinions by supporting or blocking the advancement of particular individuals. Appointments of parish clergy, teachers, and diocesan missionaries could determine the balance between different missionary ideologies.21 Disputes over Il'minskii's preference for non-Russian personnel had taken place earlier, albeit not in public. In 1884, for example, Malov reported in his diary that Il'minskii had stormed out of a St. Gurii Brotherhood meeting in which plans were being made for the brotherhood to adopt a parish school. The bishop had decided at the meeting to hire the parish priest, a Russian, to Ibid., d. II, I. 72-720b. Ia. D. Koblov, "0 sostoianii missionerskogo dela v Kazanskoi eparkbii za 1903 god (Otchet Eparkbial'nogo protivomusul'manskogo i protivoiazycheskogo missionera)," IKE, 1904, 1463-64. 20 BLKU, f. 7· d. I8, I. IS8ob.; d. 9· ll. 490b.-soob., s8-S9· See also E. A. Malov, 0 novokreshchenskoi kontore (Kazan, 1878), 206-8. 21 BLKU, f. 7, d. 12, ll. 31-34. 18

19

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replace the present teacher, a Chuvash from a neighboring parish whom Il'minskii had hired. Malov, describing the Chuvash teacher as "barely literate," was puzzled by Il'minskii's behavior: "Il'minskii was upset by Father Belokurov's desire to remove a semiliterate inorodets from the school. Whereas Il'minskii thinks inorodtsy are absolutely irreplaceable by any Russian pedagogue! This extreme view is one of Il'minskii's weaknesses."22 In the end, Il'minskii had his way. Accusations about the prevalence of this "extreme view" multiplied after Il'minskii's death. Perhaps Il'minskii's successors in his school system were even more insistent on hiring non-Russians, or had poorer judgment about it than Il'minskii. Or perhaps opponents simply felt freer to express their opinions. In the article cited earlier, Bishop Khrisanf claimed that in 1901 Bobrovnikov had pressured him to hire a Korean graduate of the Teachers' Seminary for the Seoul mission even though that person was poorly qualified. His lack of skills led to an abrupt drop in attendance at the mission church, according to Khrisanf, and his knowledge of Korean was irrelevant to the position. Ultimately, Khrisanf had to remedy the situation by summoning Russian clergy from Petersburg.23 Malov, believing that the tactics of the Il'minskiians were unfair, frequendy supported Russian clergy against perceived non-Russian competitors. In 1903, I. P. Totskii, an associate of Malov with a prestigious position in a Kazan parish, was transferred to a village of Kriashens but was demoted to deacon, even though he was conversant in Tatar and the parish had had no priest for over six months. Malov, aware that such a demotion was very unusual, insinuated that it was Totskii's nationality that was responsible. Totskii was Russian, while for many years all of the priests in this village had been Kriashens. Regarding another appointment, Malov complained that the bishop "is prepared to do everything he can to ensure that the missionary will be an inorodets, not a Russian." In Malov's account, his preferred candidate, the Mamadysh priest A. S. Miropol'skii, was qualified for the position in every way-he was fluent in Tatar, knowledgeable about Islam, and experienced as a missionary-except that he was Russian.24 In fact, the perception of disproportionate numbers of non-Russian clergy was much greater than actual numbers can account for. In Kazan diocese in 1905, the 132 parishes with Chuvash population were served by 251 priests, 124 deacons, and 260 sacristans; of these only 33 (13 percent), 13 (10 percent), and 22 (8 percent) respectively were Chuvashes (or other non-Russians). Ibid., d. I6, II. 63-70. Khrisanf, "Eshche po voprosu," I57o--82. 24 BLKU, f. 7, d. 8, 11. 87ob.-gi; d. 12, I. 57· Actually, Miropol'skii was a known enemy of nonRussian clergy. He had accused a Kriashen priest of being an ardent Muslim because the priest owned a Koran and a prayer rug (grounds on which, Mashanov noted, the same accusation could be brought against someone like Malov), and attributed this tendency to the influence of Mashanov and Bobrovnikov, the heads of the St. Gurii Brotherhood. An investigation, however, had turned up no evidence to support the charge. Ibid., d. I I, 11. 73ob.-83. 22 23

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2 3I

For the 69 parishes with Kriashens, non-Russians constituted 3 I percent of priests, I9 percent of deacons, and 28 percent of sacristans. For the 56 parishes with Cheremises, I 3 percent of priests, I 5 percent of deacons, and I 3 percent of sacristans were Cheremises or other non-Russians. Though precise data are lacking, it is almost certain that the proportion of non-Russian parishioners in these communities was still far greater than the proportion of nonRussian clergy.25 For Malov and others, attitudes were apparently as important as statistics. Koblov complained in I905 that it had become fashionable to "praise only the inorodets clergy and constantly criticize the Russians," and to emphasize constantly the superiority of the former. "The very contraposition of inorodets clergy to Russian seems inappropriate to me because many Russian priests know inorodets languages and fulfill their pastoral duties in inorodets parishes perfectly well."2 6 Only a fine line might distinguish this opinion from the insinuation that the non-Russians were morally superior to Russians. Many indictments from the anti-Il'minskii side focused on the charge of "inorodets separatism." This term, used frequently by Volga-region church and school officials beginning in the I 89os, referred to a supposed desire for social segregation caused by Russophobia.27 Occasionally it implied nonRussians' aspirations for political autonomy. (No such identifiable movement existed in the Volga region, but some Russians anticipated that one would emerge.) Either way, it served as a license for anyone attempting to dismantle the structures and methods of Il'minskii's legacy. Such efforts peaked about the turn of the century, and often involved the repression or dismissal of nonRussian personnel. Demands such as the creation of separate Chuvash parishes without any Russian parishioners, to which only Chuvash clergy would be appointed, may well have been a response to the church's preference for appointing nonRussian clergy to uniformly non-Russian parishes, and not to mixed ones (a preference rooted in a belief in non-Russians' inferiority). 28 But from another angle such demands could imply that Russian clergy were not fit to serve non-Russians. 29 Malov reported having heard at a brotherhood meeting "that the Baptized Tatar priests have been making an agreement not to have any 2 5 "K missionerskomu s"ezdu," KT, Sept. 22, I905. Bobrovnikov published some data in I899 that to a limited extent allow one to calculate the number of clergy in relation to the population of a given ethnic group. It appears that only in Mamadysh district was the number of Kriashen priests in the parishes containing Kriashens now roughly proportional to the number of Kriashens in these parishes. N. A. Bobrovnikov, Inorodcheskoe naselenie Kazanskoi gubernii (Kazan, I899), I:4-20. 26 Ia. D. Koblov, "0 neobkhodimosti inorodcheskikh missionerov v dele prosveshcheniia inorodtsev (otvet g. Bobrovnikovu)," PS, April I905, 7I2-IJ. 27 The word "separatism" was used as early as I879 by opponents ofll'minskii's schools, but the charge had not begun to circulate very widely. I. Ia. Iakovlev, Pis'ma (Cheboksary, I985), 70. 28 For example, see BLKU, f. 7, d. 8, 11. 25oob.-52ob. 29 See also ibid., 11. 207-8; P. Mikke, "Po chuvashskim prikhodam," IKE, I904, 702-26; and Ochevidets, "Razlichnye suzhdeniia o sviashchennikakh iz inorodtsev," PB 3 (I 900): 3 I o- I 5.

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ties to Russian priests because the Russian priests, supposedly, are all enemies of the Tatars. That," he remarked, "is how the best of the Baptized Tatars look upon the Russians." Arkhimandrite Andrei (Ukhtomskii), in response, said he had heard the archbishop complain that "the inorodets priests are taking business away from the Russians," and that he could understand why these clergy might see Russian priests as enemies .3D In 1910 at the Kazan Missionary Congress, the Kazan Theological Academy's Arabic instructor (and a Christian Arab), P. K. Zhuze, suggested that the morale of non-Russian candidates for the clergy would be improved by the establishment of separate seminaries. From attending seminary with the sons of the Russian clergy, Zhuze said, "our inorodtsy are being depersonalized, are losing their national particularities and sometimes are even being corrupted morally." The suggestion provoked an angry response from Vladimir Skvortsov of the Holy Synod. "As a nationalist and an Orthodox Russian," Skvortsov resented the negative value Zhuze attached to assimilation (let alone, of course, the idea that the seminaries were morally degenerate). "We cannot allow our inorodtsy," he declared, "to think only of their nationality and forget that they are citizens [grazhdane] of the great Russian state and loyal subjects of the Russian tsar. If the inorodtsy blend with the Russian people to the extent that they even forget about their [former] nationality, then there's nothing wrong with that from an Orthodox Russian point of view. In fact, that is exacdy the official task of the Russian school."31 Malov thought that the anti-Russian trend had begun much earlier. "For a long time now, since [the founding of the Kazan Teachers' Seminary], the inorodtsy have been trying to separate themselves from the Russians and have been saying they don't want the Russians to be involved in the business of the inorodtsy." Originally, he said, when Il'minskii began to recruit non-Russians, "the idea was wonderful. But soon the inorodtsy started to understand it in their own way." The St. Gurii Brotherhood began talking of Russian clergy as only incidental observers in the schools, which would be staffed entirely by non-Russian teachers, priests, and sacristans. The Russian language as well as Russian clothing came to be considered unnecessary for baptized inorodtsy. "The inorodtsy themselves (and those running the schools after Il'minskii) are at fault for making the inorodets language not just the means of primary instruction in the Christian religion, but rather ... the [very] objective of education and the means to prevent Russians (since they don't know inorodets languages) from being their teachers or even religious leaders."32 Church policies on native clergy fluctuated during the 189os. Different bishops had different opinions on the issue and on the Il'minskii system in 30 BLKU, f. 7, d. 12, I. so-soob.

31 Ieromonakh Serafim, Pervyi v Rossii po vneshnei missii Kazanskii Missionerskii S"ezd (Nizhnii Novgorod, 1912), 2:76; henceforth Kazanskii Missionerskii S"ezd. The congress is discussed in more detail in Chapter 8. 32 BLKU, f ..7. d. 18, I. 158; d. 8, II. 25D-520b.

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general, and in some cases they could undermine the synod's policies. Bobrovnikov reported in I 899 that only in -the city of Kazan was the Tatar liturgy being performed regularly. Since the departure of Archbishop Nikanor (Kamenskii) in I893, no new Kriashen sacristans had been appointed in the diocese.33 Nine Chuvash nuns found themselves in prison that same year after petitioning the Kazan diocese to hire as the new head of their convent either a Chuvash or someone able to communicate in that language. The convent was composed primarily of, and had been founded mostly by, Chuvash sisters. After its first mother-superior retired, Archbishop Arsenii (Briantsev) appointed a Russian nun wholly unfamiliar with Chuvash culture, who attempted to eliminate all use of the Chuvash language. The bishop tried to expel the petitioners, and when they would not leave, he called in the police.34 Only a year later did Arsenii rectify the situation and return the convent to its former regime. The St. Gurii Brotherhood became a battlefield of competing agendas. Since its founding in I867 it had been administrati-vely independent of Kazan diocese. Though it was concerned with all missionary affairs in the diocese, it was the main funding source for Il'minskii's non-Russian schools and translations, and favored these instruments over others. Malov, having founded the brotherhood with Il'minskii, had always been a member of its council. After Il'minskii's death and the changes in Malov's opinions of the schools, a rift developed within the brotherhood between Malov and like-minded priests (many his former students), on the one hand, and Bobrovnikov, Mashanov, and their camp of mostly non-Russian teacher-priests, on the other. Matters came to a head in I 898 when the bishop in charge of the brotherhood made the brotherhood subordinate to the diocese: the president and half the members of the brotherhood council were to be appointed by the bishop.35 The Il'minskii party, in retaliation, reorganized the brotherhood so that the council turned over many of its powers to a budgetary commission and a school commission. Malov, only barely reelected to the council at that time, was unable to react to this grab for power. He remained active in the brotherhood but was frequently at odds with Mashanov and Bobrovnikov over its governance, having to badger his colleagues to devote funds to missionary clergy and to the publication of anti-Islamic literature.36 Bobrovnikov, however, lost patience and resigned from the council in I899.J7 Bobrovnikov, lnorodcheskoe naselenie, 37· RGIA, f. 733, op. I73• d. roi, 11. 49-50; D. Filimonov, "K kharakteristike sistemy Il'minskogo (pis'mo)," inS. V. Chicherina, U privolzhskikh inorodtsev: Putevye zametki (St. Petersburg, I905), app. rz, 92-93· 35 M. A. Mashanov, Obzor deiatel'nosti Bratstva Sv. Guriia za dvadtsat' piat' let ego sushchestvovaniia, r867-1892 (Kazan, I89z), 504. 36 BLKU, f. 7, d. II, 11. I08, rro--roob. 37 Bobrovnikov, lnorodcheskoe naselenie, 4r. Upon leaving the council, Bobrovnikov published this evaluation of the brotherhood's impact on non-Russian parishes throughout Kazan province. Among its conclusions were that the brotherhood schools had saved about 9o,ooo Kriashens from Islam, and that 95 percent of the Kriashens were now practicing Orthodox (ibid., 35). 33

34

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In 1900 Bishop Arsenii grew worried over the brotherhood's declining membership. To remedy the situation he declared membership obligatory for all clergy in the diocese; this measure, in effect a tax on the clergy for the brotherhood, angered those less devoted to the Il'minskii methods. As analternative fiscal measure and to thwart the Il'minskiian agenda, a minority of the brotherhood council (Malov included) advocated the transfer of the brotherhood schools to the synod. Once rid of these schools, the brotherhood would be free to turn its energies to the Muslim population of the Volga region.JS Bishop Arsenii's replacement in 1903 allowed the Malov camp to effect a coup. The new archbishop, Dmitrii (Koval'nitskii), pressured the brotherhood to give authority over its translation commission to the Orthodox Missionary Society in Moscow. He recommended that Moscow replace all of the commission's members, whom he had called "the Cyrils and Methodiuses of Kazan" and had accused of using the authority of the commission to legitimize "half-trained urchins, parvenu uneducated ignoramuses, and even rogues asking for big state subsidies for their scholarly works."39 Then the bishop quashed the brotherhood's 1903 annual report on charges of mismanagement and appointed Malov as the chair of a special inspection committee.40 The committee's report attacked the brotherhood for its excessively informal style of administration (a trademark of Il'minskii that had remained after the brotherhood was made accountable to the diocesan administration) and alleged financial improprieties.4 1 Dmitrii pressured Mashanov to resign as secretary of the council, and in 1904 Mashanov did so.42 Meanwhile the council's president had been transferred to another diocese, and Dmitrii replaced him with Malov.43 In 1901 the diocese had established a new corps of traveling missionaries against Islam and animistic religions. A head diocesan missionary was responsible for twelve assistant or district (uchastkovye) missionaries. Because these positions required extensive clerical education-including a knowledge of anti-Muslim polemics-the new missionaries were mostly native Russians. BLKU, f. 7, d. I8, 1. I59-59ob.; RGIA, f. 733, op. I73• d. IOI, 1. 40. Bobrovnikov, Po povodu otcheta o deiatel'nosti Bratstva Sv. Guriia (Kazan, I905), Io. 40 RGIA, f. 733, op. I73• d. IOI, 1. 39-39ob. 41 Bobrovnikov, Po povodu broshiury protoiereia A. V. Smirnova (Kazan, I905) and Po povodu otcheta. 42 In his own account of the affair, Mashanov accused the special committee of lies, misrepresentations, and exaggerations, as well as a calculated failure to solicit explanations from the accused: "Otvet na doklad 'chrezvychainoi revizionnoi kommissii Bratstva Sv. Guriia,' " PS, July-August I905, 49I-5o6. According to Mashanov, the downfall of the brotherhood was not bad administration but its gradual transformation into a state institution after I883, when the presidency of the Brotherhood was changed from an elected position to an ex officio duty of the assistant bishop (vikar), and continuing in I898: Mashanov, Obzor, 503-4. 4 3 BLKU, f. 7· d. 8, ll. I 55-56, 206-9. In June, Malov himself wanted to wash his hands of the brotherhood and recommend that Dmitrii appoint in his place Bishop Khrisanf (who by now had emerged in print as an opponent ofBobrovnikov). But Malov never brought up the question when he saw how worried the bishop was about the future of the brotherhood. Ibid., ll. I 540b.-6o. 38 39

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To loyal Il'minskiians, the decision represented the compromising ofll'minskii's school-based missions. In 1904 Sofia V. Chicherina, one of the staunchest defenders of the Il'minskii legacy and of late Bobrovnikov's wife, complained to Pobedonostsev that the archbishop, Dmitrii, "does not understand [Il'minskii's system] and is damaging the cause horribly by patronizing the scholarly missionaries, who are going after not only Muhammadans but also those inclined toward apostasy. If [the missionaries'] zeal cannot be diminished, we should expect new defections to Islam."44 Bobrovnikov himself denied the usefulness of the new P.ersonnel in a 1905 article, "Are So-Called Anti-Muslim and Antipagan Diocesan Missionaries Needed in the Provinces of European Russia?" and in doing so cemented the anticlerical reputation of the Il'minskii system. The article was a commentary on the third annual report of the head diocesan missionary against Islam and animism, Iakov D. Koblov. Like Bobrovnikov's earlier exchange with Bishop Khrisanf, it was an ideological tour de force evaluating traditional church missions against Il'minskii's school mission. Besides representing the dichotomy of transitive and intransitive Russification, it posed a series of choices: between words and action, dry bureaucratism and vibrant activism, statism and private initiative, centralization and local interests. Bobrovnikov made the speculative and unverifiable assertion that the St. Gurii Brotherhood in its earlier years, with its schools and indigenous clergy, had prevented the defection of tens of thousands of Christian Tatars to Islam. Attempts by Russian clergy to deal with apostasy were restricted to one region, and "were limited to purely official exhortations, with the collaboration of the police at that." "Russian clergy," Bobrovnikov said, "have done nothing for the enlightenment of the apostates because for all their desire, they have not been able to do anything. Not knowing the language and standing far from the Tatars with respect to living conditions, they couldn't do anything for [the Tatars'] enlightenment before the apostasy, which-fact explains these defections." Likewise, Koblov's recent report showed, according to Bobrovnikov, that even the newest generation of Russian missionaries was paying little attention to apostates; "besides about ten favorite villages in Mamadysh district, all the rest of the huge apostate world is paid no attention in the report."45 44 RGIA, f. 1574, op. 2, d. 205, II. 4ob.-5. Chicherina was the niece of the liberal jurist and philosopher Boris N. Chicherin and sister of Georgii V. Chicherin, the USSR's first foreign minister. Her parents were devotees of Pashkovism, a pietist religious sect that emerged among the St. Petersburg nobility in the 187os. See Timothy E. O'Connor, Diplomacy and Revolution: G. V. Chicherin and Soviet Foreign Affairs, I9I8-I930 (Ames, Ia., 1988), 5; and Edmund Heier, Religious Schism in the Russian Aristocracy, I 86o-I 900: Radstockism and Pashkovism (The Hague, 1970). The Pashkovists' attempt to reach the Russian narod was similar in spirit to the Il'minskiites' enthusiasm for the inorodtsy. Chicherina had never known Il'minskii personally and had discovered his work only in the 189os. 45 Bobrovnikov, "Nuzny li tak nazyvaemye protivomusul'manskie i protivoiazycheskie eparkhial'nye missionery v guberniiakh Evropeiskoi Rossii?" PS, February 1905, 307-9; emphasis in original.

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Sofiia V. Chicherina (Bobrovnikova), amateur ethnographer. Note the "ethnic" style of her outfit. (By permission Russian National Library, St. Petersburg, Manuscript Division.)

Bobrovnikov also savaged Koblov's views of missionary work among Muslim Tatars. He agreed with Koblov that public meetings of Orthodox clergy with Muslims would be "dangerous and even impossible," but also dismissed Koblov's alternative methods (one-on-one polemics, translations of Christian literature into literary Tatar in Arabic script, the opening of schools with Russian instruction for Tatars) as worthless. By espousing only such dubious methods, Bobrovnikov argued, the mission only showed how little it understood the Muslims and implicitly renounced all intention to convert them. 46 Koblov had admitted that the diocesan missionary's role was limited to that of "the partner [sotrudnik] of the parish priest and his closest supervisor [rukovoditel1 in missionary work." Each district missionary was capable of visiting each part of his district only three times a year, and the head diocesan missionary (Koblov himself) could be in each district with significant nonOrthodox population only once a year.47 "Thus," wrote Bobrovnikov, "the existence of the mission is justified almost exclusively by its supervision of the 46 47

Ibid. Koblov, "0 sostoianii," IKE, 1904, r489, 1548.

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parish clergy in heathen communities and by the writing of reports. Do we need this? I think not. Our village clergy already have enough supervisors and authorities. Regardless of Koblov's very nice definition of the missionary's role as that of the helper of the parish clergy, in reality the missionary, like any official urban visitor to the village, is a boss and an inspector.... In many cases, undoubtedly, this is reflected by a decrease in free creative initiative, on which the success of [missionary] work primarily depends." Since people are inspired principally by the deeds of a missionary (not his words) and on his intimate knowledge of the local community, Bobrovnikov reasoned, there was little that visiting supervisors could tell parish clergy that would make them better missionaries. Furthermore, he said, the more "official" missions become, the more they tend to provoke the distrust of non-Russians. The previous year, the baptism of a Tatar boy in Kazan had erupted into a conflagration between Muslim Tatars and Russian police, after which a rumor spread far beyond Kazan that "the state missionaries have begun to use force."48 Worst of all, Bobrovnikov noted, the diocesan missionaries made virtually no mention of schools. I am sure that this is only because schools are under the authority of a different institution, but nonetheless this is a typical manifestation of the artificial dismemberment of popular spiritual life and a sign that the institution of the mission is actually a deviation from what had been special about the organization of education for the inorodtsy of Kazan province. The old St. Gurii Brotherhood directed all its energies toward schools; now these energies are dissipating. Nothing is heard about the opening of new Brotherhood missionary schools. On the contrary, evidently, talk is of the transfer of these schools to a different administration. Instead of the development of schools, we see the establishment of missionary jobs.49

In conclusion, Bobrovnikov recommended that the diocesan mission be shut down. Rebutting Bobrovnikov's article, Koblov denied that the methods of the diocesan missionaries were overly bureaucratic or coercive. The Tatar boy whose conversion had caused violence the previous year had asked a priest (not even a missionary) to baptize him; it was Tatar intolerance (and fear), not Russian intolerance, that had provoked the conflict. Most important, Koblov denied that his mission was in any way incompatible with the principles of Il'minskii's missions, of which he claimed to be a supporter. He objected to Bobrovnikov's assumption that the linguistic assimilation of inorodtsy was a form of national oppression. In the Il'minskii system, he reminded Bobrovnikov, "the inorodets language is not an objective in and of itself, but only a means"; Il'minskii had also demanded that inorodtsy learn Russian. so 48

Bobrovnikov, "Nuzhny li,"

3II,

315·

49Ibid., 312.

so Koblov, "0 neobkhodimosti," PS, May 1905, 114, 715.

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Koblov, however, misrepresented history by claiming that Il'minskii had advocated the Russian education of Muslim Tatars, and by saying that his use of native languages could be extended to Muslims through translations of Orthodox texts into literary, Arabic-script Tatar. Koblov also conveniently ignored the institutional forces-the scarcity of resources, the hostility of some bishops to non-Russian clergy, and so on-that had pitted one set of practices against the other. He denied the political significance of the recent changes in the St. Gurii Brotherhood, calling them "the correction of a few irregularities." 51

Battle in the Schools The conflict was not always between advocates of church missions as opposed to assimilation through education. Russian school personnel in the Middle Volga also began to go public with complaints against the Il'minskii method. In 1900 a former Russian teacher of Votiaks insinuated that the Il'minskii system had been the cause of the alleged human sacrifice in the Multan case. The schools' preference for the Votiak language over Russian, he charged, had facilitated the "religious compromise" whereby Christianity had been mixed in with traditional animist beliefs instead of supplanting them. By letting Votiaks use their native language, "the missionaries, by means of their translations, have introduced confusion into the Votiaks' ideas." The teacher asserted that Russification was necessary to save the Votiaks from such confusion and from extinction, and that the Votiaks' best means of Russification was to learn Russian as quickly as possible. He recommended that schools concentrate on teaching Russian from the very first year, and that native Russian teachers be hired regardless of their knowledge of Votiak. Any good teacher, he said, could become fluent in the language within a year.52 In 1903 a former school inspector named Stepan Krasnodubrovskii published a long article in the Moscow press against schools for non-Russians, including the Il'minskii schools. Years earlier, the author had been beaten by "a whole village" of Muslims for demanding that their mullah provide Russian instruction in his school. "Is 350 years of Russian rule over the Kazan Tatars Ibid., ]II, 713, II6. Dido, "Zametki i nabliudeniia (Iz zapisok byvshago sel'skago uchitelia)," RSh, March 1900, I s8-6I. Ivan Mikheev, a Votiak teacher at the Kazan Teachers' Seminary and himself a product of the Il'minskii schools, defended the schools against Dido's charges. In doing so, he challenged Dido's faith in Russification. Outside of the schools, through village life, he said, "the Votiaks are adopting from the Russians much that ought not to be adopted at all," such as drunkenness, stealing, and cursing. The Russian peasant (muzhik) "in his religious-moral and intellectual development stands no higher and in some places even lower than the Votiak" and "has nothing good to share besides his distinctive language. Sometimes ... Votiaks, having begun to Russify [ruset1, become worse than they were before Russification": I. Mikheev, "Votskie perevody i uchitelia," RSh, June 1900, 204. See also Dido, "Moi otvet g. Ivanu Mikheevu," RSh, September 1900, 167. 51 52

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not enough," Krasnodubrovskii asked, "to make them consider themselves Russian subjects, and learn to respect, if not love, everything Russian, and at least to speak Russian?" Krasnodubrovskii directed his anger mostly toward the Muslims, but also maintained that Il'minskii's schools, while claiming to further the cause ofRussification, were doing nothing directly or indirectly to enlighten such Muslims. The baptized non-Russians trained by the Il'minskii schools, moreover, were no more favorably inclined toward Russia than Muslims were. He complained (mistakenly, to be sure) that "there hasn't yet been one instance when a convert, for example, a Tatar, has married a Russian woman. Even with a cross around his neck a Tatar remains a Tatar and jealously guards his Tatar blood." The problem, besides horribly low funding of the Il'minskii schools, was that such converts were not learning Russian in school; "the Russian language is taught only in case the authorities come." The pupils, Krasnodubrovskii said, would never learn the language on their own. "There still has been no instance when a Tatar living among Russians has forgotten his native language. On the contrary, he energetically subjects other inorodtsy .. . and even Russians to his language."53 At the same time that opponents of Il'minskii in the church were plotting to take over the St. Gurii Brotherhood, the new curator of the Kazan Education Circuit, S. F. Speshkov, undertook to purge Il'minksii's followers from the schools. Speshkov justified his opposition to the Il'minskii method on the basis of Russian patriotism. "The inorodets school," he believed, "truly achieves missionary objectives, but has turned out to be completely insubstantial regarding the unification of inorodtsy with the core [korennoe] population of Russia on the basis of the state language."54 This problem he attributed primarily to the tendency of the pupils' families to withdraw them from the schools after the two years in which the native language was the chief medium. 55 "Because of the great number of inorodets priests and teachers today, a sort of tribal separatism is emerging in their midst. It is not the Russian priests and teachers who are hostile to the baptized [inorodets] priests and teachers, but the latter who are hostile to the former, seeing them as aliens in spirit and in blood, and as people who infringe on their native language."56 Speshkov claimed to be a devotee of Il'minskii's ideals. "Il'minskii never 53 S. Krasnodubrovskii, "Inorodcheskaia shkola Kazanskogo kraia," MV 286, 288, 289 (1903); emphasis in original. See also the editorial "Russkii iazyk v inorodcheskoi shkole," MV 286 (1903). To salvage the Il'minskii system and its pupils from this attack, a student of the Kazan missionary courses and his professor, Mashanov, collaborated on a pamphlet: R. P. Daulei and M. A. Mashanov, V zashchitu kreshchenykh inorodtsev: Otvet na stat'iu g. St. Krasnodubrovskogo, "Inorodcheskaia shkola Kazanskogo kraia" (Kazan, 1903). 54 NART, f. 92, op. 2, d. 3798, l. 37ob. 55 This phenomenon, mentioned in several descriptions of the ll'minskii schools, seems to have been a strategy of non-Russian peasants for extracting from the schools what was useful to them without submitting to their intended assimilatory influence. Ben Eklof gives a similar account of how Russian peasants used village schools to their advantage in Russian Peasant Schools: Officialdom, Village Culture, and Popular Pedagogy, r86r-1914 (Berkeley, 1986). 56 NART, f. 92, op. 2, d. 3798, l. 38-38ob.

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denied the usefulness of schools for inorodtsy with Russian as the exclusive language of instruction," he wrote to the Minister of Education in 1904. Rather, according to Speshkov, Il'minskii only feared that graduates of such schools would become estranged from their native Inilieu and were unlikely to become effective educators themselves; therefore he espoused the use of native languages as a matter of practicality. 57 Speshkov neglected Il'Ininskii's arguments about the importance of native languages as media for religious education. He also dismissed concerns that the predominance of Russian in schools for non-Russians would drive pupils away from these schools and into the hands of the Muslims. He acknowledged the cultural influence of the Tatars on the other Turkic peoples of the Volga region, but categorically denied that there was any reason to worry about the Tatarization of the Finnic peoples. Ifll'Ininskii were still alive, Speshkov argued, he would have learned from experience that language is a stronger assimilator than religion, and would change his methods accordingly. Therefore, Speshkov never spoke of destroying or dismantling the Il'minskii system, only of making "corrections" to it. 58 In 1902 Speshkov surprised Bobrovnikov with only a three-year reappointment to the directorship of the Kazan Teachers' Seininary; the usual term was five years. In his decision, he accused Bobrovnikov of financial management.59 Assisted by A.M. Mikhailov, the seminary's chaplain and theology instructor and a Malov protege, the curator initiated a thorough investigation of the seminary's bookkeeping. A majority of the investigative committee found no evidence of wrongdoing, but Mikhailov insisted on the bookkeeper's guilt. One committee member said that Mikhailov was making a personal attempt to "dirty the seininary's reputation."60 The investigation disrupted the institution's functioning. "Instructional work was made nearly impossible," one faculty member said. "When one hears a call to arms it's hard to find the strength to go into a classroom and conduct a lesson calmly." According to another teacher, "relations between Father Mikhailov and all his colleagues became so tense that many stopped shaking hands with him and even refused to serve on any committees with him."61 For well over a year, Mikhailov was suspected of making incriminating reports to Speshkov about several faculty and staff members. When he publicly huiniliated some teachers in front of a group of students, Bobrovnikov called for Mikhailov's replacement. Speshkov refused to act. Speshkov interfered with Bobrovnikov's plans for a conference of inorodets teachers in 1903 to discuss the teaching of Russian, a particularly explosive issue. Il'minskii's pedagogy was based on the "translation method," or translatIbid., I. 32. Ibid., 11. 38-390b. Ibid., d. z 3 r 9 , 11. s-6. 6o RGIA, f. 733, op. 173, d. 101, I. 15ob. 61 lbid.,l1. lsob., 17.

57 58 59

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ing Russian words and concepts into the native language for maximal comprehension. Opponents thought that Russian could be better taught without native languages through the "natural method" of conveying meaning visually and contextually. To be sure, both pedagogical and civic-patriotic concerns were intertwined in this controversy, as they have been in American debates over bilingual education. Though Speshkov had originally approved the teachers' conference, just days before it was to begin he postponed it to the following year. The next year, Speshkov remade the conference into a training session in the natural method,62 In 1903 Speshkov also abolished the separate inspectorship of Chuvash schools in the circuit, removing Il'minskii's protege Ivan Iakovlev from the position (which he had held nearly thirty years) and even temporarily from the directorship of the Chuvash Teachers' Seminary. Now the Chuvash schools would be subject only to the regular district (uchastkovyz) school inspector, and the coordination between the seminary and its satellite schools was jeopardized. Again Speshkov's alleged motivation was an administrative scandal.63 Il'minskii's widow speculated that Speshkovwanted to remove Ivan Iakovlevich from the school altogether.64 When S. V. Smolenskii, Il'minskii's relative (and Russia's top expert on liturgical singing, a subject central to the Il'minskii curriculum), also lost his job, an enraged Sofia V. Chicherina called the actions of the education circuit "an orgy of pettiness," and headed for St. Petersburg to defend the Il'minskii schools to MNP officials.65 But the pivotal figure in the fate of the Il'minskii schools, many suspected, would be Pobedonostsev. In 1903 Malov had complained of the synod oberprokuror, "We have long heard that he believes only in the effectiveness of the school, and not in the preaching of the Gospel."66 Several months later, however, Il'minskaia worried that Pobedonostev's support of her husband's legacy might be flagging: "If Konstantin Petrovich refuses to support the cause of the inorodtsy, then who will stand up for them?" 67 And indeed, in 1904 Malov remarked that his highly unfavorable report on the St. Gurii Brotherhood had persuaded Pobedonostsev to look differently at the brotherhood and its work.68 Chicherina, concerned about the damage being done to the Il'minskii 1bid., ll. 410b.-43· I. Ia. Iakovlev, Iz perepiski (Cheboksary, I989), I74- 83, 274, and Vospominaniia, I33-34· Iakovlev claimed that there had never been any conflict between him and the district inspectors, who had always had the power to visit Chuvash schools; he was certain that the abolition of the position was an attack on his own views. 64 RGIA, f. III9, op. I, d. Io8, I. I6. 65 Ibid., d. I74• ll. I-5, I I, I8-20; and S. V. Smolenskii, V zashchitu prosveshcheniia vostochnorusskikh inorodtsev po sisteme Nik. Iv. Il'minskogo (St. Petersburg, I905). According to Iakovlev, Speshkov was motivated by ambition to advance, and his actions in Kazan resembled those that had previously won him favor in the Riga Education Circuit. Iakovlev, lz perepiski, 2I8, and Vospominaniia, I 33. 66 BLKU, f. 7, d. 7, I. I55ob. 67 RGIA, f. I r I9, op. I, d. 108, II. 20-2 r. 68 BLKU, f. 7, d. 8, ll. 206-7. 62

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legacy, made an extensive research expedition in 1904 through many of the Volga-Ural communities most heavily influenced by the Il'minskii schools and parishes. After returning she wrote to Pobedonostsev: "I remember the deep sorrow with which you said last summer that the inorodets cause was perishing, and I would like to gladden and comfort you. No ... Nikolai Ivanovich's cause is not perishing. It is growing and broadening, and continues to attract to the church hundreds of people who otherwise would be Muslims or pagans." Villages in which pagan sacrifices were frequent twenty years ago, Chicherina claimed, were nearly free of the custom. Residents were attending Orthodox services offered in several languages, and graduates of Kazan's Baptized Tatar School and Teachers' Seminary were teaching school classes competently, enthusiastically, and patriotically. The inorodets clergy, she told Pobedonostsev, "have not forgotten your great role in this sacred cause, and in many of their homes I saw your photograph on the wall next to Nikolai Ivanovich's portrait. "69 On the basis of her observations, Chicherina published a thick volume of propaganda for the Il'minskii systemJO She clearly thought the Russians were most responsible for the prejudice and ill will between Russian and nonRussian teachers and clergy. She found Russian clergy to be generally unsupportive toward non-Russian clergy and teachers in their midst. With few exceptions, she wrote, "the majority of priests prefer to avoid the trouble of learning about [the education of non-Russian peoples] .... Instead they proudly deny the existence of the whole inorodets question, making only some general remarks about Russification and separatism, not realizing that they themselves, with their arrogance toward the 'dirty inorodtsy,' are preventing their assimilation [sliianie] with Russia." One well-educated inorodets told Chicherina straightforwardly, "The antagonism between the Russian and inorodets clergy is created artificially by the Russians."71 Non-Russian clergy often recalled their years in the church seminary as difficult ones, when they were harassed by Russian students. Some Tatar seminarians told Chicherina that "their peers and their teachers treat them well, but the rector relates to them with extreme hostility and says, 'You're yokel kids. You're not worthy to stand on a parquet floor.' "72 According to local lore, when Vasilii Timofeev was ordained in 1869, some Kazan clergy grumbled remarks such as, "Now they're going to appoint water carriers as priests."73 RGIA, f. I574• op. 2, d. 205, II. 4-6. Chicherina, U privolzhskikh inorodtsev. See also idem, "Polozhenie prosveshcheniia u privolzhskikh inorodtsev," Izvestiia IRGO 42 (Igo6): 59I-647; idem, "Kak nachalos' delo prosveshcheniia vostochnykh inorodtsev," ZhMNP n.s. II (September I907): I-62; (October I907): I2I-5Ii and idem [Sophy Bobrovnikoff], "Moslems in Russia," Moslem World I (fanuary Igu): 5-31. 71 Chicherina, U privolzhskikh inorodtsev, 228, 3 I9. 72 Ibid., 345, 240. 73 Filimonov, "K kharakteristike," go. 69

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Chicherina reported a pervasive opinion among "higher diocesan authorities in Kazan" that inorodets clergy were uniformly inferior to Russians and that 6o percent of them were drunkards. "From several educated Russian people I have heard that sometimes Russian priests purposely teach inorodets priests to drink heavily [.paivaiut]," she wrote. "This is a fact. They even gave me names." Some Russian blacksmiths told her that in a nearby village a Kriashen parish priest had recently been dismissed for drunkenness, "but this was, in their opinion, completely unfair. The men said that this priest ... had formerly been a teacher in their village. So they know him, like him very much, and spoke highly of him. According to their story, the complaint about him had been made by a church warden [starosta] whom he had been investigating for a misdemeanor. The peasants supported the complaint because this elder was an extortioner [miroed] and they were in bondage to him. The priest was punished for absolutely nothing," the blacksmiths told Chicherina, "but a Kriashen priest is always seen as guilty."74 A 1905 report in Kazanskii telegraf corroborated Chicherina's findings by discussing the efforts of many Russian clergy to thwart the activities of nonRussians in their parishes. Sometimes they forbade the inorodtsy to use their native languages in church or even in parishioners' homes, for fear that such communication would undermine their own authority in the parish. They paid no heed to non-Russian parishioners' demands for liturgy in their own languages, and engaged in slander against their non-Russian counterparts. "We Russians, obviously, have still not risen above our eighteenth-century predecessors, who thought of the inorodtsy as people of a lower order compared with ourselves," the author said. "We are trying in every way we can to work against the inorodtsy" and their religious and intellectual progress.75 Since one of the prominent arguments in favor of appointing non-Russian clergy was the advantage of their language skills, many Russian clergy learned to manipulate the practice by overstating Russians' ability to communicate multilingually. In the late r89os, when the synod offered several dioceses stipends earmarked for the support of non-Russian seminarians, one of the bishops declined the money and assured the synod that in his diocese there were enough children of Russian clerical families who could speak inorodets languages to staff all the non-Russian parishes in the diocese.76 Such a situation was highly unlikely. To avoid losing their jobs or to prevent the appointment of non-Russian colleagues to their parishes, some Russian priests would lie to their dioceses by saying that they could speak other languages. Some, according to Kazanskii telegraf, went so far as to force non-Russian parishioners to write letters to the diocese praising this nonexistent linguistic ability and citing it as the reason for their satisfaction with the parish. Others, Chicherina was told, urged non-Russian parishioners to say they understood Chicherina, U privolzhskikh inorodtsev, 232, 238, po, 307-8; see also 319-20. "K missionerskokmu s"ezdu." 76 RGIA, f. 796, op. r82, d. 444, ll. 4oh.-7. 74

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the Slavonic liturgy and did not want to hear it translated into their own languages)? Chicherina distributed a questionnaire to clergy and teachers in various minority settlements in which she asked opinions about the relative merit of Russian and non-Russian missionary personnel. Many of the respondents preferred inorodtsy for reasons not unlike those that had motivated Il'minskii. A Kriashen teacher told Chicherina: "In schools for inorodtsy you have to have inorodets teachers from the corresponding tribe. Russian teachers, even when they know the inorodets language, are much worse. They don't know the fine points of the language, they can't explain very well what the pupils don't understand, and somehow don't quite relate to inorodets pupils in the proper way, as one would to one's own. A Russian always acts a little bit uppity."78 Others described situations in which non-Russian children and churchgoers proved much ~ore receptive to their "own" teachers than to Russians. The ultimate criterion, one surely too compelling to be ignored, was school and church attendance. Schooling was not compulsory, and children might simply not attend a school that had no teacher with whom they identified. Peasants might travel long distances to attend a church with a sympathetic priest who spoke their language; one Chuvash priest attracted Chuvash parishioners from nearly fifty miles away. The dismissal of a Votiak teacher from a school for insufficient command of Russian caused nearly all the pupils to clear out (and the teacher had to be hired back), whereas in another Votiak school, all the pupils left after a Russian deacon began teaching)9 Respondents to Chicherina's questionnaire strongly denied that native-language education and religious worship led to anti-Russian separatism in their communities. But in subtle ways their rhetoric, however deeply it was rooted in defense against Russian attacks, could understandably be abrasive to some Russians. In many of the statements, the justifications for inorodets clergy shift from pedagogical or sociological generalizations to specific attacks on Russians and insinuations of non-Russians' moral superiority. One respondent said that Chuvash priests were not only "closer to the people" than Russians, but much more often sober and less greedy (though, unfortunately, he said, the Chuvash clergy had begun to "learn" this trait from Russians). Russian priests were often alienated from their parishes (especially those that included inorodtsy); they would laugh at the customs of other peoples, and behave as if superior. A frequent theme in Chicherina's remarks and in the responses to her questionnaire was that inorodets parishioners were better Christians than Russians: they were more attentive and more spirited in church, understood the liturgy better than Russians, kept icons more frequently, and so on. so 77 Chicherina, U privolzhskikh inorodtsev, 346; "K missionerskomu s"ezdu." 78 Chicherina, U privolzhskikh inorodtsev, 233· See also ibid., appendixes, 67, 72, 175. 79 Ibid., 319, 233-34. 80 Ibid., 340, 341, 364, 367, 396; K. Prokop'ev, "Vliianie kbristianskogo bogosluzheniia, sovershaemogo na rodnom iazyke, na inorodcheskoe naselenie," ibid., app. 15, p. 140; "Otryvki iz pisem N. V. Nikol'skogo," ibid., app. 22, p. 188.

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Chicherina's findings suggested that interethnic hostility was a phenomenon not uniformly distributed throughout the population of the region. Seemingly, among both Russians and non-Russians it was more prevalent among teachers and priests, and perhaps higher state functionaries in the case of Russians, than among peasants. In fact, Chicherina's research (though presented in a rather one-sided way, to be sure) even suggested a special reason why many Russian parishioners would have felt favorably toward inorodets clergy. Several informants suggested that church services in local Turkic or Finnic languages were often more comprehensible to Russian parishioners than were the Slavonic ones. One Chuvash priest remarked, "I would dare to say that the Russian people do not understand two-thirds of the Christian liturgy. The illiterate part of the Russian people, and even many of the literate, do not understand several of the prayers and hymns at all, and of other hymns and prayers understand only isolated expressions." The priest described how the appointment of a Chuvash priest to a mixed Russian-Chuvash parish exposed the Russians to a service half in Slavonic and half in Chuvash. Many of the Russians could understand some Chuvash, and, according to the priest, "have told Father Ivanov numerous times that only now, through the Chuvash liturgy, have they begun to understand the church service."81 The capacity of Russian peasants in ethnically mixed communities of eastern Russia to communicate bilingually (actively or passively) is a matter that requires further research. In any event, Chicherina's own observations of mixed parishes suggest that even if Russians could not understand another local language, their understanding of Church Slavonic was usually not significantly better, and in any case the ability of at least part of the local community to hear the liturgy in its own vernacular could have enlivened parish morale overall. Another indication of considerable Russian support for non-Russian clergymen is the popular response to an attempt to root out many of them. In 1909, the Kazan journal Deiatel' published an anonymous excoriation of the Il'minskii system charging that non-Russian clergy were disproportionately dominant in several parts of Kazan diocese.82 The archival record shows that shortly after the article appeared, Bishop Aleksii (Dorodnitsyn), already a foe of non-Russian clergy, gathered information on all inorodets priests in the diocese and initiated the transfer of all those whose parishes included Russian members. The consistory's archival file includes petitions from several parishes in which Russians expressed their satisfaction with and support for the priests in question. In one case, Russian parishioners compiled eight dense pages of signatures asking that their priest, a Kriashen, remain at their parish. 83 81 Prokop'ev, "Vliianie," 140. See also M. Kuz'min, "Chepkas-Nikolaevskii prikhod Simbirskogo uezda i gubernii," in Chicherina, U privolzhskikh inorodtsev, app. 6, p. 41. 82 "Po inorodcheskomu voprosu," Deiatel', September 1909, 137-50. 83 NART, f. 4, op. 1, d. 124024.

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Protecting Il'minskii's Legacy In 1904 the Ministry of Education decided to rescue the Il'minskii legacy from being swept away by its zealous enemies. Hard-line approaches to the political and cultural integration of borderland peoples were suffering discredit at this time. Fierce resistance in the previously docile areas of Finland and Armenia led respectively to the assassination of Governor General N. I. Bobrikov and the near-assassination and resignation of Governor General G. S. Golitsyn in 1904. During the mounting crisis, the Il'minskii system and its guarantee of native-language education appeared more judicious than ever. The MNP planned a high-level meeting on the education of non-Russians for the spring of 1905 and in preparation sent a member of its council, the St. Petersburg University philologist A. S. Budilovich, on a tour of the VolgaUral region to visit various schools and officials. Accompanying Budilovich was A. I. Iznoskov, Pobedonostsev's close associate in the Holy Synod and formerly a school inspector and member of Kazan University's ethnographic society (OAIE). The journey began in October 1904 with two and a half weeks in Kazan, "in view of the particularly important role that has fallen to Kazan in the development and working out of our Eastern inorodets question, especially in its most recent period, which could be called the Il'minskii period."84 There was almost no pretense of an open-ended investigation on the part of Budilovich and Iznoskov; it was clear that they had come to Kazan to save the Il'minskii system from destruction. In Kazan, Budilovich learned of local officials' plans to weaken the Il'minskii institutions further. He was told that the education circuit was planning to transfer the Central School for Baptized Tatars to the Holy Synod. Employees of the school and of its affiliate, the Kazan Teachers' Seminary, told Budilovich that the school's ability to meet local needs had always depended on its interstitial position and relative independence of bureaucracy, a position expressly arranged by Il'minskii. They convinced Budilovich that the school's transfer "would be unmistakable proof of the rupture of our ministry from the ideas and behests ofll'minskii."85 Budilovich's observation of the Kazan Teachers' Seminary led him to believe that "a certain dislike for the seminary has been emerging in recent years on the part of the authorities closest to it." Speshkov, it turned out, was planning a radical transformation of the seminary. VVhereas at the seminary's founding in r 87 2 the required proportion of Russians in the student body was one-half and in r894 had been lowered to one-third, Speshkov wanted the seminary to be entirely Russian. As he saw it, Tatar teachers could be trained in the Kazan School for Baptized Tatars and Chuvash teachers in the Simbirsk seminary; as for the Votiaks, Cheremises, and Mordvins, Speshkov be84 85

RGIA, f. 733, op. 173, d. 101, I. 3ob. Ibid., I. 7ob.

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lieved they were already so well Russified that they no longer needed special schools or teachers at all. 86 Budilovich set as many things right as he could. He took Bobrovnikov's side in disputes with Speshkov about financial problems at the Kazan Teachers' Seminary, and demanded that Speshkov dismiss Mikhailov for his unacceptable behavior. He also visited some Russian-Tatar schools in Kazan and declared to the MNP that their method of Russification through language was ineffective-implicitly a further endorsement of the Il'minskii method. He openly agreed with Bobrovnikov that the Tatar Teachers' School should be reorganized as a mixed Russian-Tatar institution on the modd of the Kazan Teachers' Seminary. 87 Budilovich and Iznoskov visited Bishop Dmitrii, accused him of not ordaining enough non-Russian clergy, and halted the transfer of the brotherhood schools to the synod. 88 In a conversation with Malov, Budilovich reproached the missionary: "You are in too much of a hurry to introduce Russification among the inorodtsy. This is a task for the future; it will require decades." Malov retorted, "And we Russians have been living as the dominant class over the Tatars not for decades but for centuries. It has been more than three hundred years since the conquest of Kazan, and look, how much have we Russified them? Should we really wait three or four more centuries? Are we really hurrying?"89 In May 1905, just weeks after the decree of religious toleration of April 17, the MNP called a "special conference" (osoboe soveshchanie) of educators and officials to "evaluate" (i.e., reaffirm) the Il'minskii system. The gathering consisted entirely of supporters of Il'minskii's methods.90 In addition to restoring them where they had been abandoned, resolutions were made to disseminate the system even further: to the peoples of the western borderlands (with the exceptions of the Ukrainians and Belorussians, who could not really be called inorodtsy), and even to non-Christian peoples.91 In small ways, 861bid., 11. IG-12. 87 Ibid., 11. 19ob.-25. 88 BLKU, f. 7, d. 8, 11. 255-56ob. Dmitrii told Budilovich that of65 non-Russian priests in the diocese, 24 were being tried or investigated, and denied that the charges against them had all been brought by Russians. 891bid., 11. 2520b.-53· 90 Besides Budilovich and Iznoskov, the participants were N. A. Bobrovnikov, S. V. Smolenskii, I. Ia. Iakovlev, A. A. Voskresenskii, N. P. Ostroumov, P. N. Luppov, N. F. Katanov, V. D. Smirnov, M. A. Mashanov, S. V. Chicherina, and M. A. Miropiev. 91 A. S. Budilovich, ed., Trudy osobogo soveshchaniia po voprosam obrazovaniia vostochnykh inorodtsev (St. Petersburg, 1905), li-lviii; hereafter cited as Trudy osobogo soveshchaniia. On the emerging tendency to use the term inorodtsy to refer to peoples of the western borderlands as well as those of the East, see John W Slocum, "Who, and When, Were the lnorodtsy?" Russian Review 57 (April 1998): 173-90.In 191G-II an MNP conference sought to formulate uniform policies for non-Russian peoples throughout the empire, giving substance to the intention of the 1905 conferees to make the Il'minskii system apply to the western borderlands. Some of the resolutions of that conference sit awkwardly with those made in 1905 for the eastern borderlands. See John W Slocum, "The Boundaries ofNational Identity: Religion, Language, and National Politics in Late Imperial Russia" (Ph.D. diss., University of Chicago, 1993), chap. 5· In Chapter 8 I discuss the decision to apply the Il'minskii system, in modified form, to Muslim schools.

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the meeting refined the system so as to answer the charges of Russian nationalists. For example, to show that the Il'minskii schools had no problem promoting Russian nationality, the group advocated the teaching of secular patriotic songs in indigenous languages in addition to hymns. A proposal for increasing the use of the Russian language in religious instruction was discussed, ending in argument and only a minor reform. 92 The gathering's moral and idealistic rhetoric pitted a peaceful and tolerant Il'minskii against foes demanding forcible Russification and the obliteration of minprity cultures and languages. Budilovich criticized general schools not of the Il'minskii type for a tendency to serve the "idols" of the Russian language or (in the case of confessional schools for Muslims) of religion.93 Bobrovnikov drew a distinction between inner (spiritual) and outer (linguistic) Russification, calling the latter crass and superficial. 94 He even attributed Il'minskii's emphasis on spiritual Russification to "that inner voice of the conscience that [Immanuel] Kant called the categorical imperative," turning Il'minskii into an Enlightenment liberal.95 Even the issue of second language teaching was cast in such light; the meeting rejected the natural method on moral more than pedagogical grounds (though it adopted that method's best feature and recast the favored translation method as the "visual-translation method"). Also prominent in the discussions were the issues of school autonomy and Kazan regional autonomy; both needed to be free from St. Petersburg's meddling. The meeting had immediate consequences. Speshkov was dismissed from the education circuit by the summer.96 He was replaced by a new curator, A. N. Derevitskii, who supported the Il'minskii system enthusiastically until his retirement in 1912.97 At the end of 1905, Bobrovnikov was granted a fiveyear extension at the Teachers' Seminary; soon afterward he was appointed Trudy osobogo soveshchaniia, 12, 53-54, 58. Ibid., xlix, liii. Malov commented in his diary: "And now before which idols does Budilovich kneel with all the inorodtsy of Russia? It's hard to say which, because he has not one idol but many, as many as there are inorodets nationalities and languages in Russia. Where this will lead Russia's inorodtsy isn't hard to predict at all. The signs of the dissolution of Russia's unity are already visible!" (BLKU, f. 7, d. 9, I. 69-69ob.). 94 Trudy osobogo soveshchaniia, 33· This distinction was also used by Ivan Mikheev at the 1910 Missionary Congress. Mikheev asserted that Il'minskii had desired the fusion (sliianie) of the inorodtsy with Russians, "but not in appearance [po vneshnostt] ... rather in spirit [po dukhu], which is much more solid. Jews and Tatars have blended with Russians in appearance, but in fact they are enemies of the Russian people" (Kazanskii Missionerskii s"ezd, 2:63). 95 Trudy osobogo soveshchaniia, 10. 96 Bobrovnikov wrote, "they say that the tsar ordered him removed because of his destruction ofll'minskii's system." BLKU, d. 88o9, II. 7-8. 97 N. F. Katanov remarked in 1908, "Our curator is excellent for the inorodets cause: it seems to me that he understands it perfectly.... It would be ridiculous to accuse him or [Bobrovnikov] of wanting to separate the inorodtsy from Russia using publications in their languages" (BLKU, d. 8817, I. 15). According to Iakovlev, however, Derevitskii's assistant, P. D. Pogodin, took advantage of his boss's absences to undermine the Il'minskii institutions. The next curator of the circuit, N. K Kul'chitskii (1912-14), also undertook attacks on lakovlev's school (lakovlev, Vospominaniia, 109-11, 137-38). 92 93

ll'minskii's System under Siege I 249 curator of the Orenburg Education Circuit.98 After he left, the seminary was taken over by Aleksei A. Voskresenskii, "with all his heart a follower of the late Nikolai lvanovich" who set to work "restoring the seminary to its former harmony."99 Eventually new MNP regulations formally reaffirmed the government's preference for Il'minskii's method over others. In I 907, Kazan diocese created a new vicariate to coordinate missionary affairs; Bishop Andrei (Ukhtomskii), a strong advocate of the Il'minskii system, was appointed to the post. But Andrei's position was difficult since Bishop Aleksii (Dorodnitsyn), rector of the Theological Academy, was generally an opponent of Il'minskii's methods. Rivalry between Aleksii and Andrei plagued the diocese for several years and hampered the synod's plans to hold a congress of missionaries in Kazan in I909. Discord also remained in the schools, and eventually students entered the fray. In I 906 the Kazan Teachers' Seminary experienced the first significant incident of ethnic discord in its history. The timing was no coincidence, for the revolutionary upheaval of I905 had not left the seminary untouched. Some students had taken part in demonstrations and in petitions, and according to teachers the student body generally was in an agitated state for many months. In October 1905, over thirty students were sent home torecover from "nervous shock."lOO It was in this context that disagreements over the Il'minskii system and the question of Russification led to sharp confrontations. In September 1906 the seminary was preparing to hire a new Russianlanguage instructor. The top two candidates were a Russian and a Kriashen. A. S. Rozhdestvin, a teacher at the seminary for seventeen years, felt strongly that the post could be filled only by a Russian, and expressed this opinion by holding discussions with his classes on the topic of the difficulties experienced by non-Russians in teaching Russian)Ol Nonetheless, the seminary hired the Kriashen candidate, Roman P. Daulei. Just a few weeks after Daulei began teaching, Kazanskii telegrafjournalist B. Glebskii attacked the seminary: "Nobody has abolished Il'minskii's system of education for the inorodtsy. Why then has the Russian teacher of Russian in the seminary recently been transferred to some faraway place and in his place has been appointed a native Tatar, a graduate of the missionary courses? ... Do you hear? The appointed teacher of the Russian language for Russians and inorodtsy is a native Tatar!"102 NART, f. 92, op. 2, d. 23I9, 11. 2I, 28. RGIA, f. I119, op. I, d. 108, I. 28ob. 100 NART, f. 92, op. 2, d. 7522, 11. 22, 24ob.; Seppo Lallukka, "Kazan' Teacher's Seminary and the Awakening of the Finnic Peoples of the Volga-Urals Region," Studia Slavica Finlandensia 4 (I 9 8 7): I 56. 101 NART, f. 92, op. 2, d. 7522,11. 3I-3Iob. 102 B. Glebskii, "Tatarskoe schast'e," KT, Nov. I2, I9o6. The title of the article, "Tatar Happiness," was probably an allusion to the Russian folk saying, "Nowadays Tatar happiness can be heard about only in fairy tales [Nyne pro tatarskoe schast'e tol'ko v skazkakh slykhat1'': V. Dal', Tolkovyi slovar' zhivogo velikorusskogo iazyka, 2d ed. (St. Petersburg and Moscow, I882), 4:371. 98

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Besides implying that a non-Russian could not possibly train students to speak and read Russian properly, Glebskii accused Daulei of telling students that the seminary existed primarily for the sake of minority peoples, whereas he was certain that Il'minskii had intended it to be a fundamentally Russian institution. "The dominant position in [the seminary], according to Il'minskii's conception, must belong to Russian students, Russian teaching, Russian influences. This is an educational institution that Russifies inorodtsy." Glebskii claimed that the inspiration for the putative betrayal ofll'minskii's intentions had come from Bobrovnikov in Orenburg. Most significant, he saw it as a "surrender to the growing force of Tatar Muhammadanism." "To give the inorodets students a Tatar teacher means to prepare in the inorodets population the victory of Muhammadanism, which is already strong and fanatical in the region."l03 Glebskii, it seems, assumed (or wished his readers to assume) that Daulei was a Muslim, that there was no such thing as an Orthodox Tatar. A group of seminary students, finding Glebskii's article inflammatory, immediately approached Rozhdestvin. Aware of Rozhdestvin's previous statements on the issue of the Russian-language appointment, they suspected that the appearance of the article was more than a coincidence. Their suspicions must have seemed well founded, for Rozhdestvin strongly defended Glebskii's point of view, telling the students that "the purpose of the seminary is the rapprochement of the inorodtsy with the Russian people, the drawing of the inorodtsy toward Russian culture by means of the teaching of the Russian language." 104 According to Rozhdestvin, the students tried to argue with him. "They tried to convince me that Russians are only allowed into the seminary [v seminariiu tol'ko dopuskaiutsia], that originally this was called for only because of a shortage of inorodets students, and now that there is no such shortage, the presence of Russians is not necessary."105 Glebskii, they said, had denigrated the seminary by ignoring its main purpose; he had implied that non-Russians were not fit for higher education and that their presence in such institutions should be reduced. When Rozhdestvin refused to write a refutation of the article, the students concluded that he had helped compose it. The students immediately organized a meeting (skhodka), at which participants shouted, "Down with all Russians! The seminary is inorodets; only inorodtsy should be here!" Some students tore up Russian flags. To restore order, the director had to assure the students that he considered the seminary to be for non-Russians. The next day, "specifically in order to affirm the views ... that had helped to calm the students," Voskresenskii invited the students to compose essays reacting to the newspaper article_l06 Glebskii, "Tatarskoe schast'e." S. Rozhdestvin, "Vynuzhdennoe ob"iasnenie," KT, Nov. 25, 1906. 105 Ibid.; emphasis in original. 106 NART, f. 92, op. 2, d. 7522, II. zzob.-23, 37; d. 7558, II. 24-24ob.; d. 7522,!. zzob. !OJ

104 A.

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At a faculty meeting two days later, Daulei sought to explain away the students' tearing of flags by pointing out that "national flags irritate the students." The seminary's music instructor, D. M. Iaichkov (a Russian), countered: "Anyone who is irritated by Russian national flags doesn't belong here, in a state educational institution." "Besides the interests of the inorodtsy," he added, "there are also Russian interests." 107 Word of Iaichkov's views soon reached the student body. When more articles on the seminary appeared in the newspaper the next day, discussions heated up again.IOB Students divided into two camps, one accusing Rozhdestvin and Iaichkov of discrimination against inorodtsy and the other defending the teachers. The first group organized a boycott against Rozhdestvin and demanded his dismissal.l09 Students also accused Iaichkov of wasting time in his classes expounding his conservative views, to the detriment of his subject matter. To dramatize their dissatisfaction, they left an antitsarist graffito on the wall of Iaichkov's classroom: "The vampire tsar sucks the people's blood. Down with the tsar, long live the Russian republic!" Days later, a student pelted Iaichkov with a chunk of bread during lunch.llO Even after the students' emotions had cooled and they had been punished, the memory of the events continued to sour relations among the seminary's faculty. Rozhdestvin and Iaichkov accused Voskresenskii of encouraging the students' expression of anti-Russian sentiments and failing to respond to the students' actions against the Russian teachers. Iaichkov criticized Daulei for downplaying the importance of the graffito by calling it "children's games."lll Differences within the seminary's leadership on the ethnic affiliation of the school were partly semantic and partly substantive. According to the halfChuvash teacher Nikolai Ashmarin, Voskresenskii had said the seminary was really "only for the inorodtsy" and that it accepted Russian students when it opened in 1872 only as a temporary measure, because until 1874 Kazan had had no teachers' seminary for Russians. In Ashmarin's view, the seminary trained Russian teachers as well as non-Russians because Russians had always been considered necessary in the education of inorodtsy. Voskresenskii defended his statement that the seminary was essentially "for the inorodtsy" on Ibid., I. 240b. On November 15, Daulei published a pseudonymous attack on Glebskii, "Russkoe neschast'e," in another newspaper, Kazanskii vecher, in which he claimed that Russians for psychological-cultutal reasons were incapable of teaching the Russian language to inorodtsy. On Nov. 16 and 18, another correspondent to Kazanskii telegraf sided with Glebskii, questioning Daulei's assumption that inorodets teachers were psychologically equipped to teach Russians. "And for what are Russian youths being trained in the seminary, then? To wait on the inorodtsy?" See "lz dnevnika. Ob inorodcheskom obrazovanii," KT, Nov. 16, 1906; and "lz dnevnika. Maniia velichiia," KT, Nov. 18, 1906. 109 NART, f. 92, op. 2, d. 7522, 11. 24, 25· It is possible that Rozhdestvin's views were truly misrepresented in this incident. See his celebratory N. I. Il'minskii i ego sistema inorodcheskogo obrazovaniia v Kazanskom krae (Kazan, 1900). 110 NART, f. 92, op. 2, d. 7522, 11. 33, 35, 36ob., 38ob. ll1 Ibid., 11. zzob.-23, 25, 24ob. 107

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the grounds that it was often referred to in official documents as the "Kazan lnorodets Teachers' Seminary," that the majority of students were nonRussians, and that the sole aim of the seminary's training (even of Russians) was the staffing of schools for non-Russian children. For this reason Russian students were required to learn a non-Russian language, and upon completing their studies would be assigned to teach in Russian schools only if no places were available in schools for inorodtsy.l12 Mutual suspicions between opposing sides of the debate over Il'minskii lingered for years. Early in 1907 a similar conflict erupted in the Chuvash Teachers' Seminary, leading Derevitskii, the circuit chief, to expel the entire first-year class for distributing antigovernment propaganda.lB In 1910 Kazanskii telegraf carried an article claiming that since Speshkov's removal from the education circuit in 1905, nearly the entire faculty of the Kazan Teachers' Seminary had been replaced, and many of them by non-Russians. "Now the pedagogical leadership has installed inorodets teachers in the seminary. Yet N. I. Il'minskii only advocated, defended, and introduced the [use of] national languages in the school and in the church. Further than this he did not go. And now all inorodtsy have been placed as administrators of the lnorodets Teachers' Seminary."114 The author's version of Il'minskii's ideas was off the mark. As for his view of the selection of faculty at the seminary, a letter written by Bobrovnikov in 1910 tells of a "rout" (razgrom) of nonRussians from the seminary, beginning with students and then involving the removal of various teachers. Among the victims was the Chuvash teacher and ethnographer N. V. Nikol'skii, who was transferred to Saratov province, "where of course there will be no opportunity for him to study the ethnography of the Chuvashes."115 Minority Intellegentsias The "separatist" overtones of incidents such as the student protest at the Kazan Teachers' Seminary can be seen in part as defensive reactions to Russm Ibid., ll. 28-3oob. lakovlev, lz perepiski, 202, 28o-8I, and Vospominaniia, I89, 260. The Simbirsk student protests pointed to alleged discrimination against Chuvashes at the seminary, but were also inspired in part by the opening of the Second State Duma. 114 "0 Kazanskoi inorodcheskoi seminarii," KT, Mar. 2 I, I910; Ep. Andrei, "0 pravoslavnykh inorodtsakh," KT, Mar. 23, I910. 115 ARAN (Spb), f. 782, op. 2, d. 8, ll. I-4· Bobrovnikov's letter implies that the purge began sometime before January I910. Nikol'skii was a researcher of Chuvash history and evidently his views were somewhat anticlerical. In I9I I he offended the school inspector Koblov with a presentation of the history of the Christianization of the Chuvashes at the OAIE, in which he accused missionaries of having accomplished little (ibid., f. I34• op. I, d. 476, II. 8I-84). This correspondence shows that after his dismissal ftom the seminary Nikol'skii was a foe in the eyes of the Kazan governor and in the imperial scholarly establishment. Somehow, however, he managed to remain in the good graces of the Holy Synod. Ill

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ian chauvinism. Indeed, many Russians who leveled the charge of inorodets separatism were themselves opposed to having inorodets teachers serve in parishes and schools where any Russians were present.JI6 But the tensions can also be explained by an ideal of empowerment only hinted at by Il'minskii but held more openly by many of his followers, especially as the role of nonRussians in the top ranks of the system increased over time. The emergence of groups of Kriashen, Chuvash, Cheremis, and Votiak intellectuals was unprecedented. Before Il'minskii's time and until his system had produced a couple of generations of non-Russian teachers, individuals from these groups could become educated only by attending Russian elementary schools and by becoming literate in Russian. To avoid being ostracized both by their native groups and by Russians, these people had found it necessary to identifY themselves as Russians. Under Il'minskii's system, however, since they now possessed their own written languages as well as specific social roles in their native communities (as teachers or clergy), they were inclined (if not virtually required) to maintain non-Russian identities. Insofar as the Kazan Teachers' Seminary was the central training ground for this new elite, as well as the locus of publishing in these non-Russian languages, it became a major cultural center for the Finnic and Turkic peoples of the Volga region.ll7 The 1905 Revolution played a key role in the developing consciousness of these intelligentsias, as it led to empire-wide participatory politics, liberalization of publishing, and dissemination of news about other movements among national minorities. Those elites responsible for the publication of religious and linguistic works in new written languages became increasingly interested in enlightening their peoples through secular learning as well.JIS The original religious objectives of the Il'minskii institutions faded further to the background of these elites' motivations. New genres emerged in non-Russian literatures, including hygienic advice, folklore, translated Russian classics, calendars, and almanacs, many of which were probably read aloud by the still small number of literate individuals to an illiterate audience.JI9 Because national awakening coincided with political upheaval, reformist and revolutionary ideas were also manifest in much of this secular literature: One historian reports that Viacheslav M. Molotov, while in Kazan, made arrangements through the Teachers' Seminary for the translation of Bolshevik leaflets into local languages. Nationalistic themes such as Pan-Finnic pride were also present.l20 In 1907 Malov obtained excerpts from a Cheremis calendar containing a populist essay on Russian history and government. The essay complained of 116 Mikke,

"Po chuvashskim prikhodam." Lallukka, "Kazan' Teacher's Seminary." liS Ibid., I 52-54· 119 Whereas in I 90 5 about So titles had been published in Cheremis, by I 9 I 7 the number was over wo; seven Cheremis calendars were published in Kazan between I9o6 and I9I3, as were three Votiak calendars between I904 and I9IO (ibid., I 55, I63). 120 Ibid., I 54- 5s. 117

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high government expenditures on generals' salaries and allowances to the royal family, and advocated popular representation, civil rights, and organization of labor. Describing the new political system that came into being as a result of strikes in 1905, the calendar's authors openly sympathized with the constitutionalist and socialist parties. They expressed regret about the numbers of people jailed by the government for the espousal of ideas for "renewing the life of the people," and admiration for the peasants of past centuries who had risen against the Russian state. The calendar evidently had been translated into Cheremis from Russian, but its most damning statements had been blotted out. As far as Malov knew, therefore, it made no reference to ethnic issues, with one small exception. The translators noted that there were no Cheremis representatives in the State Duma, but spoke highly of a Kazan deputy, Z. M. Talantsev (presumably a Russian), who had indicated his willingness to address the Cheremises' concerns and had donated money for the printing of the calendar. The translators invited their readers to write directly to Talantsev to express their needs_121 Malov was scandalized, writing in his diary that the calendar's authors "are inciting the people to arm themselves and rebel against the government and the Tsar." Most important, Malov interpreted the propaganda in national terms, since it had been translated into another language. "Now we know how ungrateful, rude, and ignorant the Cheremises have been toward Russia! Their ill will toward Russia is visible here in all its evil force."122 The nonRussian intellectuals' adherence to radical rhetoric was evidence not only of their political views but of their attitudes toward the Russian people as a whole. Worst of all, Il'minskii's portrait appeared in the calendar. Malov explained, "There are rumors that the [Cheremis] translators of the calendar are students of the Kazan Teachers' Seminary, which has been corrupted in spirit and orientation since the death of Nikolai I. Il'minskii. God will be their judge!" It did tum out that the translators were a former teacher in the seminary's model school who now was Viatka's diocesan missionary to Cheremises and Votiaks and two Cheremis teachers who had graduated from the seminary.m Soon afterward, Malov saw a newspaper advertisement for a Chuvashlanguage calendar. "At first I didn't believe my eyes," he wrote. "Then I reread the ad and realized that the pupils of the inorodets teachers' seminaries and other such institutions are working very hard to separate themselves from Russia and establish with the other inorodtsy (and I think with the 121 BLKU, f. 7, d. 12, 1. 2 r-210b. There had been two Chuvash deputies from Kazan province in the First Duma, Ia. A. Abramov and G. S. Badamshin, the latter a Muslim. Gosudarstvennaia Duma pervogo sozyva: Portrety, kratkie biografii i kharakteristiki deputatov (Moscow, 1906), 28-29. On Tatar Duma deputies, see Chapter 8. 122 BLKU, f. 7, d. u, 11. zzob., 28. 123 Ibid., 11. 28ob., lo--IOob.

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Muhammadans) a separate state. And to think that we ourselves educated such activists, telling them they needed to study primarily in their native language!!" Malov also heard of a Votiak calendar. He became suspicious of his non-Russian students at the Theological Academy, in particular V. E. Egorov, a Chuvash whom the bishop was considering for the post of diocesan missionary. After questioning Egorov and learning that he had a copy of a recent Chuvash calendar, Malov advised the bishop not to appoint Egorov; he charged that Egorov was interested in the job only because it would pay well.I24 Though Malov had jumped to conclusions in accusing the calendar's authors of plotting an armed rebellion, there would soon be better evidence that members of the minority intelligentsia raised by the Il'minskii schools were affiliating with the far left. In October 1907, a teacher at the seminary's Chuvash model school was arrested after police found Socialist Revolutionary literature in his apartment. One of his student teachers, a graduate of the Chuvash Teachers' Seminary, was also charged. In January 1908, more SR literature was found at the Teachers' Seminary itself. A year later, ten students of the seminary were jailed for keeping a library of antigovernment materials and printing an underground journal. (At the same time, twenty-one others were expelled for agitating against new seminary regulations.)125 In the hardening of his views, Malov was by no means unique. Public discourse on the Il'minskii schools and on non-Russian educators and clergy became increasingly harsh during the last decade of tsarist rule. As the specter of 1905 receded, it became clear that the official buttressing of the Il'minskii system (like many of the 1905 reforms) had been a stopgap measure devoid of real commitment on the part of the government. The pendulum did not take long to swing back the other way, and it once again became safe to advocate more repressive governance. But one genie that could not be put back into its bottle was religious toleration. Its consequences had far transcended the spirit and the letter of the law, and many Russifiers began to feel that religion's time as an effective tool of imperial integration had passed decisively. The logic worked in favor of stricter linguistic and political measures as compensation. In 1906 the Imperial Oriental Society, after hearing reports for and against the Il'minskii system, delivered harsh criticisms bringing into sharp relief the range of opinion regarding the definition ofRussianness. Whereas other critics opposed Il'minskii's emphasis on Orthodoxy as the core of Russian nationality because it had caused him to compromise on linguistic Russification, the society thought Orthodoxy impeded the proper inculcation of Russian loyalty for intellectual reasons. Il'minskii's schools and translations, its members charged, had consistently promoted strictly confessional education while excluding even the most basic secular and civic instruction. Since the schools 124 125

Ibid., 11. 300b., 36--44, 5I, 74-76. NART, f. 92, op. 2, d. 7559, II. r, 24; RGIA, f. 821, op. ro, d. uo8, II. 230-42.

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Teachers of the Chuvash Teachers' School, Simbirsk. (Russian State Historical Archive, St. Petersburg, f. 835, op. 3, d. 56, 1.5. Reproduced with permission.)

put the inculcation of ideas before instruction in the Russian language, they had a golden opportunity to provide children with mathematical, historical, or geographical education necessary for "ridding themselves of those superstitious views of nature which have been given to them by the religious teachings of the East, and acquiring an accurate conception of natural phenomena

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and thus making their worldview more like that of the Russians." Instead, the schools ignored the needs of their constituents and actually "lead the inorodtsy to even greater fanaticism [than the Muslims] in matters of faith, intolerance toward Russian policies, and alienation from Russia in general." The Oriental Society concluded that non-Russians opposed to Il'minskii's schools were correct to consider Il'minskii "not a pedagogue but a missionary," whose work was out of step with what should be the basic goals of the MNP.I26 Another new voice was that of the zemstvos. In January 1908, the educational commission of the Kazan provincial zemstvo received an urgent request from the St. Gurii Brotherhood for increased support. It responded with the opinion that instruction in the brotherhood's schools was in need of "fundamental reorganization." Teachers' salaries in the brotherhood schools, in the zemstvo's view, were too low for Russian teachers to accept_l27 The MNP requirement of two initial years of native-language schooling (last reiterated in 1907) was advancing national separatism among non-Russians by making it possible for children to learn their native languages for two years and then stop going to school. The MNP, the committee contended, was in effect neglecting Il'minskii's commitment to using the Russian language as a means of unifying the inorodtsy with the Russians. The zemstvo commission offered extra funds to the brotherhood, but only "to recruit native Russian teachers who know an inorodets language [to replace non~Russian teachers], and for the correction of the defects in the instruction of the inorodtsy." The brotherhood's council thanked the zemstvo for the offer of funds, but said that it must continue to depend on non-Russian teachers_l28 Like the 1905 educational conference, the congress of missionaries held in Kazan in June 1910 was an opportunity for proponents of the Il'minskii system to lick their wounds, reaffirm their commitment, shore up their forces, and attract public notice. Besides numerous discussions and resolutions in support of Il'minskii's ideas and institutions, the events of the two-week gathering included church services in Il'minskii's honor in the chapels of the School for Baptized Tatars and the Kazan Teachers' Seminary (the latter performed by graduates of the seminary), the singing of hymns by pupils of the schools in several languages, and a cross-and-icon procession through the Tatar quarter and central Kazan ending at Il'minskii's grave, where clergy and others, led by the archbishop and in the presence of the governor, took an oath "to remain true" to Il'minskii's legacy "even unto death."l29 The events were covered by local newspapers. During the same weeks one of these newspapers, the Telegraph, also ran a RGIA, f. 733, op. r33, d. ro3, II. rr3-r4, ro9ob., rr4ob. Other zemstvos refused to aid brotherhood schools for the reason that they were too poorly funded, preferring to fund good schools or none at all (0 prosveshchenii, 7r-72, 9r). In the situation described above, however, the ethnicity of the teachers seems to have been the most important factor. 12s BLKU, f. 7, d. r2, 11. sB-sBob., 48-48ob. 129 A. A. Voskresenskii, "Predislovie. Sistema N.l. Il'minskogo v riadu drugikh meropriatii k prosveshcheniiu inorodtsev," in 0 sisteme prosveshcheniia inorodtsev i o kazanskoi tsentral'noi kreshcheno-tatarskoi shkole: K so-letiiu ego sistemy i shkoly (Kazan, I9I3), xxix-xxx. 126 127

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series of articles by a university professor, Union of Russian People activist, and representative of the local nobility, V. F. Zalesskii, vituperatively attacking the Il'minskii system. Zalesskii accused Il'minskii of having degraded the Orthodox religion by translating it into the languages of inorodtsy; "Orthodoxy outside of Russian culture and civilization," he said, "is just unthinkable." Il'minskii's successors, he wrote, had turned the use of indigenous languages from an indirect strategy of Russification into a means "of openly encouraging Russophobic aspirations and inorodets separatism."BO Several months later, Zalesskii presented his positions on the Il'minskii schools for discussion in the Kazan provincial assembly of nobility. The Kazan nobility voted overwhelmingly for a resolution favoring Russian schoolteachers for non-Russian schools, specifically rejecting a dissenting member's version that would have prescribed choosing teachers on the basis not of ethnic categories but of Russian patriotism. The implication of the prevailing resolution was that only Russians were to be trusted. Also adopted were resolutions addressed to the tsar calling the "movement among the inorodtsy" dangerous to the Russian state and. blaming the present school system for supporting it_131 Later the issue was brought before the Eleventh Congress of Nobility, attended by representatives of thirty-seven provinces. Delegates singled out Kazan for its problems with ethnic separatism, and as a remedy recommended that the language of instruction in all schools be Russian.132 Bishop Andrei, reacting to newspaper coverage of this meeting, complained that the noble delegates "mix all the inorodtsy into one pile," so that "Christian Chuvashes and heathen Votiaks and Tatar Muhammadans [are mentioned] side by side without the slightest qualification."l33 Demonization of Christian and animist non-Russians became more widespread in the Volga region in the last decade before the February Revolution. noV. F. Zalesskii, "Sistema Il'minskogo," KT, June IJ, IS, and I6, I9Io; Voskresenskii, "Predislovie," xxvii-xxxi. Earlier that year Zalesskii had argued against Bishop Andrei's view that "anthropologically a Russian has not the smallest advantage over an inorodets" and in favor of innate Aryan superiority over Finns, Mongols, Turks, and Semites. "0 pravoslavnykh i nepravoslavnykh inorodtsakh," KT, Mar. 24, I9IO. On Zalesskii's views of the Kazan Tatars, see I. BarashkovEpchelei, "N. F. Katanov," in Nikolai Fedorovich Katanov: Materialy i soobshcheniia, ed. N. G. Domozhakov (Abakan, I 958), I 56-57. In I 9 I I Zalesskii attempted to revive the example of the eighteenth-century Kazan missionary schools, arguing that they failed not because of faulty methodology but because of the wrongdoings of particular individuals. See V. F. Zalesskii, "K istorii prosveshcheniia inorodtsev Kazanskago kraia v XVIII stoletii," PS, November I9I I, 635-49. m RGIA, f. 846, op. I, d. I65, 11. 25-32. 132 "Vopros ob inorodcheskoi shkole na dvorianskom s"ezde," OR Io (I911): r5o-51. See also Eli Weinerman, "Russification in Imperial Russia: The Search for Homogeneity in the Multinational State" (Ph.D. diss., Indiana University, I996), I 58. Zalesskii was also active in efforts to limit the rights of Muslims; in I909 he called for their disenfranchisement in elections to the city dnma, so as to make that institution purely ethnic Russian. Lutz Hafner, "Stadtdumawahlen und soziale Eliten in Kazan, I87o his I9I3: Zur rechtlichen Lage und politischen Praxis der lokalen Selbstverwaltung," Jahrbiicher for Geschichte Osteuropas 44 (I996): 233n63. 133 "K voprosu ob inorodcheskoi shkole v Privolzhskom krae," OR I3 (1911): I93-96.

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In the Multan case, Russian hostility to the Votiaks had been based mostly on the assumption of the Votiaks' ignorance and primitiveness. Now such peoples, principally because of adherence to their native languages, were lumped together with other suspect ethnic groups, such as Jews and Muslims, and accused of active and spiteful plotting (perhaps in concert with the Muslims) to overthrow Russian influence. In the eyes of the so-called Russifiers-those demanding an overhaul, reformation, or abandonment of Il'minskii's system-the image of the Christian non-Russians was not only increasingly like that of the Muslims, it was inseparable from it. Laypeople such as Zalesskii failed to make any significant distinction between the two groups, while those such as Malov (who certainly knew the ethnographic-religious distinctions) accused the two groups of being politically linked, even though they lacked appropriate evidence. One of the most vitriolic attacks came from Deiatel', the journal of the Kazan Temperance Society, which was closely connected with the Black Hundreds. In September 1909 an anonymous article in the journal charged that non-Russian personnel in the region's schools and churches were part of a Jewish-led plot to "coddle" and privilege all inorodtsy to the point where these groups would enslave the Russian people and take over the country.134 To this author, the Il'minskii system represented artificial life support for inherently weak and expiring peoples. The article urgently espoused the slogan "Russia for the Russians," and lambasted various Russian elites for promoting the idea of "Russia for everyone but the Russians."l35 As we saw in Chapter 2, the Il'minskii system had transformed the connotations of the term inorodtsy. From a literal marker of alienness, often accompanied by a belittling tone, the word had become a term of endearment (frequently "our [nasht] inorodtsy") signifying the promise of becoming wholly unalien to the Russians. Now, in reaction to the non-Russians' developing a national or ethnic consciousness apart from the Russians (by means of language, despite religion), and to an extent because of the non-Russians' participation in revolutionary movements, the term was coming back full circle to its former connotations, although with a much more bitter, malignant tone. The MNP regulations of 1906 had ostensibly restored the status of the Il'minskii system in the Volga-Urals, its original region of application. But by the time the MNP addressed the broader application of the Il'minskii system (as recommended by the 1905 conference), its leadership had changed. The new minister, L. A. Kasso, was an opponent of native-language education. In 1910-11 he held a series of meetings designed to formulate a comprehensive policy for the empire.136 Instead of completely forbidding native-language education, however, Kasso settled on a compromise. The regulations an134

135

1!.

"Po inorodcheskomu voprosu." An unpublished response to the article by N. I. Ashmarin is in RGIA, f.

209-12. 136

Slocum, "Boundaries," chap. 5·

82 I,

op.

8,

d. Boo,

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nounced on June 14, 1913, supposedly reaffirmed the use of native languages, yet left a loophole through which Russian could replace them whenever pupils could understand it. The teaching of religion to Orthodox pupils is done in the pupils' native language [the language they use at home] until the completion of the one-class or two-class school, but this subject may also be taught in Russian if the latter has been mastered sufficiently by the children and there are no objections from their parents .... The teaching of the pupils' native language is done in that language; the teaching of other subjects is also done in the pupils' native tongue during the first two years of instruction in the one-class schools and in the first classes of the two-class schools, if the pupils do not become capable of understanding subjects taught in the Russian language before the end of the two-year period. From the beginning of the third year the teaching of Russian and arithmetic, and in the two-class schools all other subjects, must in all cases be done in Russian)37

A. A. Voskresenskii regarded the new law as the MNP's response to the complaints of the assemblies of nobility. Though his claim that the law categorically "omitted" the native languages from the schools was overstated, this omission was now a possibility given the direction in which public opinion at large was moving,l38 One exception to this trend is worth mentioning besides that of the Il'minskii camp. Within months of the June 1913 regulations, the last major piece of tsarist legislation on the education of minority peoples, the Bolshevik party began to include in its platform a heavy emphasis on the use of minority languages in its vision of a future democratic system in Russia,l39 The last years of tsarist rule witnessed rampant confusion over the official status of the 11 'minskii schools. Some school boards and inspectors, believing that the Il'minskii method had been abolished, abandoned the use of nonRussian languages and translations; others began to insist that the method be followed. "In Kazan itself," wrote Voskresenkii, "opinions are completely divided in the pedagogical community. A newcomer to the scorching heat of controversy regarding the inorodtsy can no longer orient himself, quickly gets lost, and doesn't know who or what to believe, sometimes even choosing not to believe his own eyes." Voskresenskii reported that one St. Petersburg official had visited a school in Kazan and was impressed by the pupils' knowledge of Christianity and their use of Russian; "but then after he had listened to all sorts of opinions about inorodets affairs around the town and country, and havll7 The law is published in 0 sisteme prosveshcheniia inorodtsev, 133-35; the quotes are from 134, emphasis added. 138 Voskresenskii, "Predislovie," xxv-xxvi, xxxi. In December 1913 and January 1914 a group ofliberal and democratic educators held a conference at which they criticized the June MNP regulations and recommended a more Il'minskiian system of education throughout the empire. The Ministry of the Interior thought of stopping the conference from taking place, but did not act in time. Nevertheless, the MNP paid no heed to the recommendations. A. G. Bazanov, Ocherki po istorii missionerskikh shkol na krainem severe (Leningrad, 1936), 106. 139 Ibid., 105.

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ing returned to Petersburg, without a moment's hesitation reported to his superiors that in that school even the eldest pupils spoke Russian poorly, and that [the school] is also known for its separatism and Russophobia. This is a fact."140 In spite of the confusion, Il'minskii's name remained remarkably unsoiled. The missionary, in fact, had virtually been made a saint, and speaking against his views was nearly regarded as blasphemous. One of the 1906 articles in the Telegraph against Daulei's appointment to the Teachers' Seminary had moralized: "The great educator didn't create the seminary so that after his death his Christian testaments would be trampled in the dirt, so that lots would be thrown and his clothing divided, and the pupils of his school (this garden of God) exposed to foreign influences."141 Though Il'minskii's image here was Christlike, his original supporters-those who defended Il'minskii's institutional legacy-viewed this development cynically. Voskresenskii said the opponents of Il'minskii's system had "a need to shield their deeds using Il'minskii's name, but the truth here is obvious: the real distorters and misinterpreters ofll'minskii's system are presenting themselves as its defenders, and those who are trying as hard as they can to preserve Il'minskii's system are being pointed to as its distorters and misinterpreters."142 Il'minskii's personal charisma and authority had helped him to win great influence over nationality policies in eastern Russia. Yet his image proved more durable than his conceptual and institutional achievements. Bobrovnikov and others who followed in Il'minskii's pedagogical footsteps did not possess his gifts. Even if they had possessed them, however, Il'minskii's legacy would never have continued unscathed. The fifty years between 1864 (the founding of the Kazan School for Baptized Tatars) and 1914 had been a watershed in the development of public opinion, mass media, and civic organization in Russia. By the 1910s, a time of even greater political intensity than the 186os, Il'minskii's fifty-year-old experiment in science, pedagogy, andreligion was bound to be reevaluated and challenged. The number and variety of participants in the discussion of the Russian empire's ethnic composition and possible means of modifying it had mushroomed, as had the avenues for expressing their opinions. Most important, however, Russian society and its problems became infinitely more complex in the years between the Great Reforms and the First World War. The official and unofficial waning of enthusiasm for Il'minskii's policies is intimately connected with the sense of cultural crisis in Russia, which ballooned to enormous proportions during this period. For Russian nationalists, supporting the Il'minskii system during the 186os and 187os had required great optimism about the cultural power of the Russian people. The Voskresenskii, "Predislovie," xxxii. "Spravka o Kazanskoi Uchitel'skoi Seminarii," KT, Nov. 21, 1906. 142 Voskresenskii, "Predislovie," xxxiv. See also Weinerman, "Russification," 174. 140

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supply of such optimism had always been limited in Russia, but by the twentieth century the country faced a dire deficit. Contrasting bits of rhetoric from two different opponents of the Il'minskii schools will help to make this point. On one hand, Kazan Education Circuit Curator Speshkov was motivated by a wholly negative and unflattering view of the Russians as a nation. "The historical development of the Russian state," he wrote, "generally shows that the Russians are less possessed by national exclusiveness than other peoples, that to a significant degree they are inclined to adapt to other tribes, and that the force of territorial expansion in Russia has always been greater than the power to assimilate the annexed peoples."143 Speshkov's patriotism was grounded primarily in politics and little if at all in culture. It was a prescription for future success, but decidedly not the recovery or fulfillment of some primordial ethnic power. As far as Speshkov was concerned, the Russian state, in order to measure up to the states of Western Europe, had always had to overcome the pathetic weakness of the Russian people. For the Speshkovs of Russia Il'minskii's approach to the Russification of the inorodtsy wouid always have been objectionable for erroneously assuming the historical inevitability of assimilation, and thus making such assimilation even less likely by pulling in the opposite direction. By contrast, a more culturally rooted (if historically contingent) sort of Russian nationalism is epitomized in the statement of one Prince Kropotkin in the Kazan noble assembly in I 9 I I: In the past, the Russian people were strongly organized, thanks to which we wiped a lot of inorodtsy from the face of the earth. They fused with the Russians, leaving only their names in history. Old Rus' always imposed its culture insistently into the inorodets world; it carried to them its language, its religious worship, its leaders and judges. But in the new Russia our national self-consciousness is being lost, we've started treating the inorodtsy like brothers, we've allowed them to feel their own nationality, and thus we have nourished on our bosom a little snake.144

The prince's portrayal of Russia's past was Slavophilic and quasi-Darwinian. Yet his view of the present reflected disappointment and a perception of decline, even reaching a sense of Russian victimhood not unlike that which emerged after the fall of Soviet Communism. Kropotkin's and Speshkov's statements both express the mixture of cultural shame and compensatory pride that is so common in Russian history. Yet in contrast to Speshkov's state chauvinism, which was to compensate for a transhistorical cultural deficiency, Kropotkin's was rooted in the pessimism of shattered beliefs, expectations, and entitlements. It is precisely this variant-so often present in the rise of radical-right movements in the twentieth century-that best explains 143 144

NART, f. 92, op. 2, d. 3798, 1. 28. RGIA, f. 846, op. I, d. I6s, 1. 28.

Il'minskii's System under Siege I 263 the declining fortunes of relatively liberal approaches to Russification and the increasing popularity of more aggressive strategies. Malov's metamorphosis from enthusiast to opponent of the Il'minskii system was only one manifestation of a much broader trend toward a sense of cultural emergency in Russia.

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One April day in 1901, students of the Galeev medresse in Kazan paid a visit to Father Evfimii Malov and engaged him in a theological discussion about Tatar translations of Islamic texts. Malov wrote in his diary that evening, "This discussion was utterly enjoyable because ... the shakirds were putting forth new ideas completely contrary to those Muhammadan views on the significance of the Tatar language and the Arabic language that predominated in the Kazan medresses about thirty years ago." Curious about the school itself, Malov visited it a few days later. "I barely recognized the Galeev medresse," he remarked. "It has changed so much; it has been renovated, and cleaned of the dirt and stuffiness. What's happened to what it was thirty years ago?"I More, in fact, was changing in the life of the Tatars than approaches to religious education. Questioning in recent decades about the requirements of Islam had led to greater openness to European and Russian mores and styles, and heated debates concerning everything from the morality of alcohol consumption to polygamy and the veiling of women. This cultural ferment was important not only to Muslims within the Russian empire; it was of worldhistorical significance. Tatars in Kazan and other cities of eastern Russia were on the forefront of a cultural trend that had begun to sweep the Muslim world. Even to Russians as well acquainted with the Tatars as Malov, the changes in outlook were gradual and subtle enough to escape day-to-day notice. Within several years, however, the pace of change in Tatar culture would quicken, as the Russian environment itself was transformed by the revolutionary events of 1905. The Tatars would become more visible to Russians as a result of their admission into areas of public life previously closed to them, along with the creation of new, more inclusive ones such as parliamentary politics. I

BLKU, f. 7, d. r8, II. gr, ggob.

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The Fruits of Muslim Reform In the 189os, the jadid (new-method) movement in Islamic pedagogy had begun to gain significant ground among the Volga Tatars as an aging, conservative generation of mullahs was challenged by younger, more liberal ones. Many of the jadids, casting themselves as Muslim Luthers returning to the essence of Islamic theology, found a much more permissive religion than the one in which they had been raised. Not only did they learn to teach Arabic in a new way; increasingly they were also using Tatar (in Arabic script) to make Islamic texts more comprehensible to common people. Through the reformed medresses, moreover, they were mixing religious and secular education, devoting less time to religious study and considerably more to previously forbidden subjects such as the natural sciences and the Russian language. As early as 1891, the governor of Kazan province had reported that one-third of shakirds in the city of Kazan were studying the Russian language (though this number was not official since the study of Russian often took place outside the bounds prescribed by state regulations).Z By 1912, 90 percent of the over 1,ooo Tatar schools (both mektebs and medresses) in Kazan province had adopted a jadid curriculum. Some of the most progressive of the medresses were training hundreds of shakirds at a time. Attitudes toward the physical school environment were also changing, as Malov observed, and the education of girls gained significant ground) One of the most visible indicators of flux in Tatar values and worldviews was the rapid change in the amount and nature of printed literature accessible to the Tatars. Kazan's Turkic-language publishing industry began to boom around 1900, when the first Tatar-owned publisher went into business; soon it left the hands of ethnic-Russian publishers and state institutions entirely.4 Tatar was not only an alternative to Arabic in religious books. Catalogs of major Tatar publishers indicate that the production of religious texts was rapidly outpaced by secular works such as reading primers, grammars, belles-lettres (both originals and translations of Russian and foreign classics), school textbooks on history, science, and geography, and advice manuals for the public on ethics and hygiene.5 By 1905, Kazan's presses were publishing 200 Tatar 2 N.

N. Firsov, Proshloe Tatarii: Kratkii nauchno-populiarnyi istoricheskii ocherk (Kazan, I926), 34· Azade-Ayse Rorlich, The Volga Tatars: A Portrait in National Resilience (Stanford, I986), 9I, 93-95, 99-101. Gorokhov's figures on jadid schools are lower. V. M. Gorokhov, Reaktsionnaia shkol'naia politika tsarizma v otnoshenii Tatar Povolzh'ia (Kazan, I94I), I94-95· 4 The house, belonging to the merchant brothers Karimov, published I 37 titles in just the nine months from April I9oo to January I90I. M. Tret'iakov, "Neskol'ko faktov i myslei po povodu otkrytiia v g. Kazani musul'manskoi tipografii," PB I (I90I): 330. 5 Zavdat S. Minnullin, "Zur Geschichte der tatarischen iiffent!ichen Bibliotheken vor der Oktoberrevolution," in Muslim Culture in Russia and Central Asia from the I 8th to the Early zoth Centuries, ed. Michael Kemper, Anke von Kiigelgen, and Dmitriy Yermakov (Berlin, I996), 222-23. See also N. F. Katanov, "Povolzhskie tatary v ikh proizvedeniiakh i v zhizni," Povolzh'e, January I903, I-29; N.l. Ashmarin, "Neskol'ko slov o sovremennoi literature kazanskikh tatar," ZhMNP 36I (I905): I-32; Dzh. Validov, Ocherk istorii obrazovannosti i literatury tatar (do revoliutsii 1917 g.) J

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titles per year, in a quantity of 2.2 million copies, already three times the number of Russian books being published in Kazan. In 1910 the French Revue du monde musulman reported that over three million copies of 349 titles in "Muslim languages" (primarily Tatar) had been produced there in the past year.6 This trade put Kazan on a par with Istanbul and Cairo as a cultural center of the Turkic and Islamic worlds. The revolutionary events of 1905 and 1906 were in many ways a turning point in the cultural development of Muslims in Russia. Before then, the jadid movement was moderate, of a largely religious nature, and was viewed skeptically by the Tatar masses. Afterward, it became more broadly cultural and political, and drew significant discussion and support at all levels of Tatar society. New political rights and institutions gave Tatars greater incentive than ever to seek education, especially of a kind that would allow them to push for improvement in their conditions as Russian subjects. The impetus for the continuing spread of the jadid and its transformation from a pedagogical movement into a political one came largely from Tatar students (shakirds), whose political consciousness kept pace with that of Russian students in general. Shakirds' protests and strikes in 1905-6 created pressure for the medresses' further reform, innovation, and standardization. The changes angered and alienated the more conservative Tatars, known as the kadimists. This group consisted mostly of those mullahs registered and salaried by the muftiate, and was led by the imam of St. Petersburg, Ataulla Baiazitov. 7 As a . result of the explicit politicization of the jadid movement in 1905-6, Russian officialdom also moved from a more or less indifferent stance on Tatar cultural reform to a predominantly hostile one. 8 Even before the 1905 reforms, the Russo-Japanese war had raised elite concerns about a general political crisis in "the East." The military defeat and humiliation of a European power at the hands of an Asian one was unprecedented in modem history. In March 1905, alarmed by the latest losses in Manchuria, Nikolai Bobrovnikov wrote frantically to Minister of Education V. G. Glazov proposing the opening of a school of Asian languages in Kazan. Teaching the Far Eastern languages to Russian military personnel, Bobrovnikov thought, might help secure the loyalty of Russia's subjects near the (Moscow and Petrograd, 1923), 85-roo; Rorlich, Volga Tatars, 65-103; and Zaki Validi Togan, Vospominaniia (Ufa, I994), 1:77-79· 6 N. A. Bobrovnikov, Shko/'naia set' Kazanskoi gubernii (Kazan, I905), 9; RMM I3 (I9I I): 382. See also Rorlich, Volga Tatars, 7I-75· 7 A. Arsharuni and Kh. Gabidullin, Ocherki panislamizma i pantiurkizma v Rossii (Moscow, 193I), 2I-22; Validov, Ocherk, so; Rorlich, Volga Tatars, 94· On shakirds' demands, see D. I. Kii [N. F. Katanov], "Neskol'ko slov po povodu volnenii v musul'manskikh shkolakh," Obnovlenie So (r9o6), and M.A. Mashanov, "Sovremennoe sostoianie tatar-mukhammedan I ikh otnoshenie k drugim inorodtsam," PS, April r 9 I I, I 24. 8 Serge Zenkovsky, Pan-Turkism and Islam in Russia, 2d ed. (Cambridge, Mass., I967), 37· There is, however, evidence that the Ministry of Internal Affairs considered the movement potentially threatening as early as I9oo. A. G. Karimullin, Tatarskaia kniga nacha/a XX veka (Kazan, 1974), r86-87.

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front. Bobrovnikov said he had foreseen the "struggle with the yellow race," and claimed that if more Russians had learned these languages earlier and used them [instead of Russian] as a means of assimilation, these subjects' loyalty would not be in jeopardy. In Bobrovnikov's worldview, Manchuria was not so far from Kazan: With regard to measures for the Buriats I wrote that it was extremely important for us to have the Mongolian tribes with us and not against us in the imminent war with China. Now, it is obvious to everyone that in a war with Japan and China ... not only the Mongolian tribes will be against us but the Turkic tribes as well. Even before the fall of Port Arthur the native masses of Central Asia, by all accounts, were in their hearts not with us but with the Japanese.

The "Orient" was all of a piece. "The Asians' appetites are limitless," Bobrovnikov told Glazov, "and they have a dream (I have heard about it from Muslims here too) of throwing Russia beyond the Urals and the Caspian Sea and out of Asia."9 One of the first concessions wrested from the crown in the midst of the disastrous war, the edict of religious toleration of April I7, I905, seemed further to enhance the power and prestige of the "East." Formally the edict granted the right to convert freely only from one Christian faith or denomination to another. For Muslims, it was not meant to introduce any change in the tsarist position. To convert from Christianity to Islam, a person had to prove that he or she had in fact always practiced Islam and had been Christian in name only; in other words, the state guaranteed the freedom to be a Muslim but not to become one, which had already been the case before I905. It was still illegal to convert without government permission, and Muslim proselytizing was still prohibited.lO Nonetheless, the law sparked an explosion in official conversions from Orthodoxy to Islam in the Russian empire. Its wording left open the existing loophole whereby one could defect by claiming never to have been a Christian, and now the state was more likely than before to accept such claims. In the less than four years between the edict and January I, I909, about 49,000 persons converted legally; Kazan province alone reported nearly 39,000 converts. Without question, there were also many unofficial instances of apostasy. Amid the public outrage after the Bloody Sunday massacre in early I905, Tatar activists wasted no time in lobbying the government for redress of the various injustices they experienced as an ethnic and religious minority. In March, a delegation of Tatar intellectuals went to St. Petersburg to speak with Minister of the Interior Sergei Witte. Largely because of Baiazitov's influence, they failed to get permission to hold an empire-wide congress of Muslims. Nonetheless, about ISO Muslim elites (dominated by bourgeois 9

RGIA, f. 922, op. r, d. 204, II. r-rob., 4-4ob. Ibid., f. 82 r, op. 8, d. 795, ll. ro2-3.

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capitalists and intellectuals, and by Volga-Ural Tatars and Azeris) gathered for a clandestine meeting in August 1905 on a boat on the Oka River at Nizhnii Novgorod. The meeting's resolutions included establishment of a constitutional monarchy with proportionate representation and equal civil rights for minorities and respecting the inviolability of private property. For the purpose of pressing for such reforms, the resolutions expressed the need for the various Muslim peoples in Russia to act as a unified group.II In January I 906, a second unauthorized Congress of Russian Muslims met in St. Petersburg. Attended by about a hundred people, it resulted in the formation of a Union of Muslims (known to Tatars by the abbreviation Ittifak), the precursor of a Muslim political party and Duma caucus. For the Duma elections, the delegates agreed to align themselves with the Constitutional Democrats (Kadets), a party primarily of ethnic Russians. Twenty-four or twenty-five of the thirty Muslim deputies in the First Duma were aligned with the Kadets (the others formed a Muslim Labor party). It is also noteworthy that thirteen of these deputies were Volga-Ural Tatars and Bashkirs.l2 Relaxation of censorship after the October Manifesto led to the emergence of a vibrant Tatar periodical press, in which jadid reformers and kadim conservatives debated religious, cultural, and political issues. The franchise gave Tatars incentive to follow current events. Some conservative kadimist periodicals existed, the most influential published in St. Petersburg by Baiazitov. The vast majority of Tatar-language publications, however, were in the center to left part of the spectrum and were pro-jadid. Of sixty-two published in Russia between 1905 and February 1917, twenty-three were from Kazan; Baku was the other leading center of publication.B In addition, Tatars often exercised their new freedom of association by opening libraries, charities, credit unions, and other organizations for a specifically Tatar-Muslim constituency.l4 The Third Muslim Congress, held in Nizhnii Novgorod in August 1906, was the first to enjoy official sanction. Reshid Ibragimov, one of the leaders, Zenkovsky, Pan- Turkism, 4I; Radich, Volga Tatars, 108-9. Zenkovsky, Pan-Turkism, 37-54. Some sources give different numbers of deputies, perhaps neglecting those not officially in the Muslim fraction. There has also been confusion over inclusion of the eleven (or twelve) additional Muslims elected in Central Asia, who did not arrive in St. Petersburg until after the dissolution of the Duma. 13 Dilara M. Usmanova, "Die tatarische Presse I905-I9I8: Quellen, Entwicklungsetappen und quantitative Analyse," in Kemper eta!., Muslim Culture, 239-78; Alexandre Bennigsen and Chantal Lemercier-Quelquejay, La Presse et le mouvement national chez les musulmans de Russie avant 1920 (Paris, I964), 53· On the radical Tatar press, see R. U. Amirkhanov, Tatarskaia demokraticheskaia pechat': 1905-1907 gg. (Moscow, I988). In the liberal-to-radical range of the Tatar press, no sharp ideological boundaries existed between Tatar periodicals before February I9I7; many publications represented a mix of political tendencies. Bennigsen and LemercierQuelquejay, Presse, 53-5414 On benevolent societies, see Radich, Volga Tatars, 75-77. On Tatar libraries, see Minnullin, "Zur Geschichte," 207-37. Revue du monde musulman reported in I9I I that Kazan's "Islainic Library" (presumably the Tatar branch of the Kazan Public Library, founded in I 906) had had over zo,ooo visitors in I910 (RMM I3 [I9I I]: 38I). ll

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had written to the MVD promising that the meeting was designed to fight the spread ofPan-Islamism, socialism, and anarchism-"ideologies disruptive to the life of the people and repugnant to the doctrine oflslam"-and that its delegates were fully loyal and devoted to the tsar. At the congress, the overwhelming number of delegates not in sympathy with the statement forced Ibragimov to apologize for it. Ibragimov's letter had also claimed that the objective of Ittifak was to free the Muslim confessional schools from the grip of the conservative, "fanatical" mullahs. Many members of the organization may have been thus motivated, but they were not ready to burn their bridges to the mullahs as long as the latter's support might be useful. Among the congress's demands was the full autonomy of the Muslim Ecclesiastical Administrations from the government, a cause even the conservatives could embrace. The delegates also resolved to make Ittifak into a mass political party for Muslims, something that was ultimately never achieved.15 Most Muslim candidates for the Second Duma remained allied with the Kadets. Of the thirty-nine elected (fifteen from the Volga-Urals region), thirty-three were affiliated with or cooperated with the Kadets. After the coup ofJune 3, 1907, which disenfranchised the Muslims of Turkestan and reduced the number of Muslims from elsewhere, the Third Duma had only nine Muslim deputies, and the Fourth Duma had only seven (still, most of these were aligned with the Kadets). The decline in political representation, however, did not arrest the Muslim cultural efflorescence. The Third Muslim Congress adopted a resolution on school reform prescribing the "complete transformation" of the mektebs and medresses into general schools. The use of the native language was recommended for all instruction, with the learning of Russian obligatory in the medresses (along with secular sciences) but optional in the mektebs, and the learning ofliterary Turkish obligatory in the medresses and "where possible" in the mektebs.16 As Tatar attitudes toward secular education grew more favorable, Ministry of Education schools in eastern Russia did experience some increase in their numbers of Tatar pupils.17 Many early Tatar publicists, including Gasprinskii, Merjani, and Nasyry, had recommended Russian schooling as a means of advancement. But relatively few of the ministry's schools had survived in Muslim areas, especially compared with Tatar confessional schools. Though the latter were increasingly receptive to the Russian language, they usually opted not to register this instruction as "Russian classes" under the r87o regula15 Zenkovsky, Pan-Turkism, 43-46, so. The central committee elected at the congress consisted of fifteen members, eleven of whom were Volga-Ural Tatars or Bashkirs. 16 Rorlich, Volga Tatars, 89; Zenkovsky, Pan-Turkism, 46-49, 105. No exception was made for the non-Turkic Muslim peoples of the empire. 17 Even before 1905, one journalist reported increasing Muslim enrollment in Russian schools (including regular MNP schools, Russian-Muslim schools, and even Orthodox parish schools) in Kazan, Orenburg, Kostroma, Astrakhan, Tashkent, and even among Muslim mountain dwellers in the Kuban region. M. Tret'iakov, "Russkaia shkola i otnoshenie k nei musul'man Rossii," PB 3 (19oo): 315-20, 344-51.

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tions. This decision reflected Tatars' general distrust of the Russian state and its regulations, as well as the schools' knowledge that government scrutiny could lead to the curtailment of instruction in the natural sciences, history, geography, and other subjects formally not allowed in the confessional schools, and the dismissal of many teachers with foreign training. Also, if Tatars were to learn Russian and other subjects in MNP schools, there was no guarantee that they could do so in their native language, since many state and zemstvo administrators were phasing those languages out and insisting on Russian. The result was that the achievements of the jadid movement stayed, for the most part, outside of state control. The Tatar Teachers' School (the training ground for instructors of the Russian classes), which had been nearly desperate for bodies to fill its thirtyfive student seats in the I 88os, now could not accept all applicants, even after raising its enrollment to one hundred.'8 What had been an underground milieu now became a major part of Tatar cultural life, even though not all jadids held uniformly positive opinions of the school. Among Russian authorities, the school became even more suspect than before. A student kruzhok there in the I 89os eventually spawned Tatar contingents of Social Democrats and Socialist Revolutionaries, as well as a group of liberal Tatar nationalists who took part in the founding of Ittifak.I9 Arguably, it was the latter who were most worrisome to the state because they sought to mobilize Muslims and Turks on the basis of their particular grievances, creating a wholly new movement. These Tatar nationalists absorbed secular, modern ideas not only from Russian institutions and sources but also from Western European and Turkish ones, creating a veritable cultural nightmare for advocates of Russification. Sadri Maksudov, for example, who (together with his friend the future Marxist writer Giaz Iskhakov) enrolled in the Tatar Teachers' School in. I 897 without his family's knowledge, read Turkish newspapers imported from abroad and became interested in writers such as Rousseau, Darwin, and Tolstoy (whom he once visited at his estate). Maksudov is thought to have published the first novel in the Kazan Tatar dialect, in which he exposed the evils of polygamy and other 'shortcomings of Tatar society. Upon the advice oflsmail Bey Gasprinskii, after graduating from the Kazan school in I90I he went to Paris to study law at the Sorbonne, and took courses at other institutions with such renowned French scholars as Emile Durkheim. Returning to Russia in time for the Third Muslim Congress in I9o6, Maksudov was elected to the Central Committee of Ittifak, and then to seats in the Second and Third Dumas (although through the machinations of Russian conservatives he was declared ineligible for election to the Fourth). Besides being one 18 P. D., "Mysli missionerov," in 0 prosvesbcbenii privolzbskikb inorodtsev: 30 nomerov zhurnala "Sotrudnika Bratstva Sviat. Guriia" (Kazan, 1910), 355-58. 19 Validov, Ocberk, 44-46; Amirkhanov, Tatarskaia demokraticbeskaia pecbat', 38-39, 42-43; Bennigsen and Lemercier-Quelquejay, Presse, 2 5, 33.

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of the more vocal members of the Duma's Muslim fraction, while in St. Petersburg he studied Turkology with V. V. Radlov.20 Maksudov and other such broadly educated Turkic intellectuals articulated their critiques of Russian policies toward minorities at Muslim political gatherings, in the Tatar press, and in the Duma. Even in the short-lived and otherwise preoccupied First Duma, Shakhaidar Sh. Syrtlanov, a Bashkir deputy from Ufa, made a speech outlining many of the long-standing tsarist practices that were discriminatory or offensive toward Muslims: the interference of bishops with the construction of mosques, the requirement that all confessional school teachers be trained in Russia (education even in Russia's protectorate Bukhara was not allowed); the failure of military institutions to allow for Muslim observances; mullahs' ineligibility for exemption from military service; the banning of Muslims from school councils; the allowance of taverns and alcohol sales in Muslim villages; the prohibition on Muslim property ownership in Central Asia, and so on.21 Muslim deputies also defended the rights of minority peoples generally in all legislation on education, giving particular emphasis to advocating that primary schools permit the instructional use of minority languages. In the first two dumas they protested the MNP's school regulations of March 3 I, I 906. These regulations were an important rallying point for Muslim communities in general. The I905 MNP conference on schools for inorodtsy, in its zeal to promote Il'minskii's system as a scientifically proven, all-purpose approach to minority pedagogy, had prepared the system's introduction into Muslim schools as well. The meaning of such a move, however, was far from clear, reflecting the confusion into which Il'minskii's ideas had fallen. The poorly written I9o6 regulations, based on the meeting's recommendations, only confused matters further. Many Muslims understood them to require books used in schools for Muslims to be printed in parallel Cyrillic and Arabic transcriptions.22 Perhaps on the basis of folk rumors, they thought that dual transcription was intended to wean Muslims off the sacred Arabic script and therefore indicated imminent Christianization.B The result was widespread Adile Aida, Sadri Maksudi Arsal (Moscow, I 996), 2 8-8 I. Gosudarstvennaia Duma. Pervyi sozyv. Stenograficheskie otchety, sess. I, mtg. 2 3 Oune 8, I9o6), I I o6-9; henceforth cited as GD I, GD II, etc. 22 -when confronted, MNP administrators, including those present at the I905 meeting, could not agree on its exact meaning or applicability. To placate protesters, some claimed that the provision was not obligatory, while others claimed that it was not supposed to apply to confessional schools. RGIA, f. 733, op. I73, dd. ro5, ro7. See also Gorokhov, Reaktsionnaia shkol'naia politika, . I??-85. 23 Though a few participants in the I905 meeting may have been motivated by utopian desires for complete Russification (including conversion) in the long term, most probably saw the transcription as a way simply to facilitate the learning of Russian. Some argued that to apply Il'minskii's methods without the Christian component would be meaningless, but others believed that Islamic instruction could be substituted. Still others argued that the Il'minskii method could be secularized and applied to the least "fanatical" Muslims who had already expressed interest in secular education. To this end, they believed that what would make these schools "Il'minskii schools" was the application of Russian transcription to the school materials. A. S. Budilovich, ed., Trudy 20

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protest, most pronounced in Kazan and Orenburg provinces. Tatar and Bashkir activists inundated the government with telegrams calling for the repeal of the regulations; the Third Muslim Congress also articulated a formal objection. In a May 1907 Duma speech, Trudovik deputy K. G. Khasanov of Ufa province declared that the regulations had undermined Muslim interest in the Russian-Bashkir schools and that if they were not rescinded the schools would close for lack of pupils (at this point, voices from the right side of the Duma suggested, "Go to Turkey!"). Muslims were not averse to learning Russian; in fact, they were realizing more than ever the necessity of it, Khasanov said. Yet to impose Russian forcibly (especially on primary school pupils) was the wrong approach.Z4 Eventually the MNP backed down, and the revised regulations it approved on November 1, 1907, made no mention of schools for Muslims.ZS In 1908 and 1909, the Kazan Tatar deputy Gaisa Kh. Enikeev made long speeches summarizing the history of tsarist education policy toward inorodtsy, charging that Russia's schools for Muslims had been concerned mostly with Russification and only secondarily with actual pedagogy.26 Although Enikeev at first attributed this preoccupation to the strong influence of Il'minskii, he soon realized that Il'minskii's name might be useful in arguing for the importance of native languages and native teachers in all minority schools. He was also concerned with inequities in school financing: though the state provided funding for Orthodox religious education, it forced the Muslims to pay for Islamic instruction in MNP schools and Russian language instruction in confessional schools, although they paid the same taxes as Russians.27 While making such criticisms, these Muslims described themselves as "loyal and true sons of Russia," openly agreed that Russian should be the official state language, and expressed a desire for the "unity" (though not cultural homogeneity) of the peoples in the empire.28 Even an Octobrist deputy such as Mikhail Kapustin, a professor of medicine at Kazan University, was osobogo soveshchaniia po voprosam obrazovaniia vostochnykh inorodtsev (St. Petersburg, I905), xxx-xxxv, 67-10I; henceforth cited as Trudy osobogo soveshchaniia. The regulation also sought to hinder Tatarization, since Cyrillic transcription would enable pedagogues to create a distinctive written language for eachMuslim-Turkic group. The Il'minskii people feared that the use of Arabic script was hastening Tatarization by failing to recognize the differences between different Turkic vernaculars-thus violating the principle of providing each people with instruction in its own language. See, for example, the memorandum by N. F. Katanov in RGIA, f. 733, op. I73• d. 107, II. 8il--92, esp. 90. At some times such people claimed that their position was an ethical one, while at other times they spoke of nationality as an objective category defined by language without regard to self-identification, a matter to be decided by science. 24 GD II, sess. 2, mtg. 33 (May 4, I907), cols. 83-86. 25 A. A. Voskresenskii, "Predislovie: Sistema N. I. Il'minskogo v riadu drugikh meropriiatii k prosveshcheniiu inorodtsev," in 0 sisteme prosveshcheniia inorodtsev i o kazanskoi tsentral'noi kreshcheno-tatarskoi shkole: K so-letiiu ego sistemy i shkoly (Kazan, I9I3), xxiv-xxv. 26 GD III, sess. I, mtg. 8I Cfune 9, I9o8), cols. 2533-47. See also the remarks of the Georgian deputy Chkheidze ibid., sess. I, mtg. 38 (Mar. I8, I9o8), cols. 672-76. 27 Ibid., sess. 2, mtg. 97 (Apr. 20, I909), cols. 258I-83. 28 See, for instance, Enikeev ibid., col. 2576.

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confident ofTatars' place in the Russian nation. In April 1908 he assured his colleagues in the Duma that the "Muslim question" was not as perilous as they might be thinking. I belong to the number of Russians who for various reasons have lived among Muslims, Russian subjects, and it seems to me that at the present time we can say with full verity that the Muslims are subjects of Russia [poddannye Rossiz], Russian subjects [russkie poddanye], and if we make that felt in our relations with them, satisfying their needs and fulfilling their justifiable and legal desires, with no detriment to Russian interests, then the unification of life and the participation of Muslims in the wars we have waged-for example, with Turkey in both the European and Asian theaters-allow us to think that in Russia among the Muslims we have Russian citizens [grazhdane] who are loyal to Russia. And if this is not the case, then it must be achieved, and can be achieved.29 To many Russians who were concerned with cultural assimilation, howevereven persons of a more liberal stripe than Kapustin-the fact that Muslims in Russia still practiced Islam made such insistence on their political loyalty dubious and unpersuasive. In the minds of such people, traditional stereotypes of the Orient overlapped with the perception of geopolitical danger to Russia.

Evaluating the Tatar "Awakening" Religious and cultural change within the Tatar community was a topic of debate and speculation for Russians interested in the ethnic composition of the empire and active in assimilation projects. To those who regarded Islam as inferior to Orthodoxy, the jadid movement and its manifestations raised thorny questions. Was the movement essentially political with religious overtones, or did its political ramifications grow from religious roots? Was Islam itself changing? Did a progressive form of Islam warrant revising traditional judgments of the religion, or did a re-evaluation of Islam or Tatardom require the thorough transformation of all Muslims rather than just a minority? Would even a globally reformed and secularized Islam still be Islam? Above all, were recent changes positive or negative for Russia? Opinions covered a wide range. A few Russians were enthusiastic about the benefits in store for relations between Russians and Tatars. In 1905, N. V. Nikol'skii of the Kazan Teachers' Seminary noted Tatar writers' aspirations for "an intimate union with the Russians on the basis of a common human culture" and hoped that "these desires ... will be realized and will provide the Russian state with what it has long awaited from its subjects, i.e., eco29

Ibid., sess. 1, mtg. 49 (Apr. 4, 1908), col. 18oo.

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nomic and moral improvement."30 In 1907 the school inspector M. N. Pinegin asked: Shouldn't we see the new trend as the first step toward assimilation with Western culture, and with the principles of Russian civic consciousness [grazhdanstvennost1? It seems to me that the transition from the national to the Russian is closer and more natural than the transition from Arabism and fanaticism, i.e., from the way of life of the old medresses to the Russian world .... The nationalist movement must lead, albeit indirectly, to fusion with the Russians, something not allowed by the confessional schools of the old type.3'

"The Muslim Question in Russia," a pseudonymous 1909 article in the liberal journal Russkaia mysl', took a more cautious approach. While not denying that earlier "Muslim culture in Russia ... had stopped developing, [that] a strict dogmatism had taken hold of it, [that] stagnation had set in," the author refused to predict "whether the [contemporary Islamic] movement will lead to reform and rebirth or to the decisive fall of the Muslim faith," "whether Muslim culture is an appropriate tool for the further development of the peoples who profess Islam," or even whether the outcome would be harmful or beneficial to Russia. Clearly, however, this writer (perhaps a Muslim) leaned toward an optimistic prognosis.32 The missionary and Kazan Theological Academy professor Mikhail Mashanov viewed the progressive trend as significant, but not enough so to warrant any less ambition in the church's attempt to thwart the spread oflslam. The "new Islam," after all, had not yet reached the Tatar masses. Still, Mashanovwrote in 1905, even among the masses "the old methods of combating Islam through the selection of various Koranic texts will tum out to be entirely unsatisfactory. New means are needed-scientific and cultural means founded on those principles that have been borrowed from Christian culture-to lead the Muslims to fusion with Christians on scientific, cultural, and civic grounds and thus to prepare them for the transition to Christianity."H Mashanov implied that recent cultural movements were already bringing Muslims closer to Christians and would reflect positively on conversion efforts, though in the following several years his optimism would dissipate. His colleague Iakov Koblov, however, flatly denied the existence of a "new Islam." In theory, he said, the shortcomings of a religion might be ameliorated by reinterpreting original sources, but in the case of Islam the result would then cease to be the religion actually practiced by the I 3 million Muslims in the Russian empire. Koblov begged the question N. Nikol'skii, "Mully i intelligentsiia u kazanskikh tatar," TsOZh I (Dec. I6, I905). RGIA, f. 733, op. I73, d. Io7, I. 79· G. Alisov, "Musul'manskii vopros v Rossii," Russkaia mysl' 7 (I909): 6o--6I, 36. 33M. A. Mashanov, "Sovremennye dvizheniia v islame," TsOZh I (Dec. I6, I905). 30 31 32

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whether changes in interpretation and practice might eventually reach the masses.34 Some Russian "experts" on Islam were less direct in their judgments, seeking to appear open-minded and hopeful yet not really departing from traditional pessimism about the possibility of Christian-Muslim coexistence. In the early 19oos Nikolai Ostroumov, a graduate and former faculty member of the Kazan academy's anti-Islam program, published a book titled The Koran and Prog;ress)S Adhering to Ernest Renan's famous thesis, Ostroumov argued that "the idea of progress as well as progress itself remain foreign to the Muslims. Their culture, retaining a purely local character, withers away quickly without any sustained development."36 Even the alleged scientific achievements of medieval Islam, he agreed with Renan, belonged not to Muslims but to others whose efforts the Muslims had tolerated only grudgingly. But Ostroumov also invoked the authority of contemporary Russian orientalists whose views represented a less absolute view oflslam. The Moscow professor Agafangel Krymskii, in the I 899 Islam and Its Future, had argued (in Ostroumov's paraphrase) that "Islam, like any other religion, in and of itself shouldn't be considered a hindrance to progress and civilization; everything depends on the spiritual capabilities of the race professing Islam, and on this race's attitude toward science." Vladimir V. Bartol'd of St. Petersburg University had written in 1903 that a "renaissance" in Islamic culture-that is, Muslims' participation in world cultural progress, like that of the Japanesewould be possible through "adoption of the foundations of European culture" (he did not mean the Christian religion), which might replace "the work of Muslim scholars in past centuries."37 Ostroumov declared himself in full agreement with both Bartol'd and Krymskii. He affirmed, "I have witnessed a beneficial change in the views of young Muslims who have received education in Russian schools, and know many Muslims who don't show any religious alienation in their relations with Russians." To combat Muslim separatism and Pan-Islamism, therefore, Ostroumov supported the "introduction into the curriculum of existing medresses of a Russian-language course and modem scientific knowledge that will facilitate the dissipation of religious ideas rooted in the Muslims that do not accord with history.... "38 34 Ia. D. Koblov, GrafL. N. Tolstoi i musul'mane: Po povodu perepiski L. N. Tolstogo s kazanskimi tatarami (Kazan, 1904), 23. A similar argument appeared in V. Litviakov, "Sovremennoe kul'turnoe dvizhenie v musul'manskom mire i otnoshenie k nemu islama," PB I (1916): 12 5-50. 35 N. P. Ostroumov, Knran i progress (fashkent, 1901 ). The actual date of this publication is in question. Though it is marked 19oi, the book's citations include literature published in 1902 and 1903. 36 Ibid., 230. Here Ostroumov was actually quoting and embracing the opinion of Vladimir Solov'ev, from the latter's Magomet, ego zhizn' i uchenie (St. Petersburg, 1896). Ostroumov probably did not agree with all of Solov' ev's views on Islam, 7particularly that it could be a progressive force and stepping-stone to Christianity for adherents of polytheistic belief systems. 37 Ostroumov, Koran, 243. See also Mark Batunsky, "Racism in Russian Islamology: Agafangel Krimsky," CAS 4 (1992): 75-84. 381bid., 244, 246-47·

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But Ostroumov still sought to refute Tatar scholars who argued for the compatibility of Islamic teaching with the idea of progress.39 These proponents of new interpretations of Islam maintained that the backwardness of Islamic societies in comparison with Europe was due either to the influence of eccentrics who had "misread" the Koran or to political and social factors external to religion altogether. Ostroumov opposed these views on the basis of what he claimed was the "literal and historical meaning" of the Koran's words, and took for granted that Islamic life had been and always would be limited to the realization of those words, which were prohibitive of progress.40 So although Ostroumov advocated a broader confessional school curriculum, evidently he was offended by the thought that the new subjects would be presented as compatible with Islam. What he would not admit was that he still hoped for the destruction of Islam-not its reform or adaptation-by means of secular education. Other church scholars reached similar conclusions. P. K. Zhuze, a Christian Arab on the faculty of the Kazan academy, had answered the question "Can the followers of Muhammad ever achieve the intellectual and moral perfection to be on the same level as Christian peoples?" with an optimistic yes, but then revealed that the means would be education "based on Christian principles."41fu other words: yes, the Muslims were capable of converting to Christianity. Sofia Chicherina's reaction to cultural change among the Muslims is also interesting in its nostalgia for old dichotomies. Reporting on her travels throughout the Volga-Ural region in 1905, Chicherina described a visit to the home of a Bashkir merchant in Ufa province. The visit was emblematic of her jarring experience of the new ways in which Eastern and Western cultures were mixing. The merchant proudly showed her his new "marvel," a player piano he had recently bought in Nizhnii Novgorod. The instrument played Strauss's "Blue Danube" waltz, a mazurka from Glinka's A Life for the Tsar, and selections from operettas. "My host, cranking the piano in his long coat [aziam] and skullcap [tiubeteika], turned his delighted face to me, expecting me to be in ecstasy. But it was hard for me to force out a compliment on Europe's intrusion here in its most vulgar fposhryt] and unartistic form." The visit was interrupted by a special evening song of the local muezzins, which gave Chicherina the pure oriental experience she craved. "When the last note froze in the still air, I stood for a long while absolutely bewitched, without the strength to break the spell I was under," she wrote. "And as I was walking home along the moonlit road after having said goodbye to my hosts, I felt 39 On Baiazitov's reaction to Renan, see Ia. S. Akhmetgaleeva (Ianbaeva), "Pochemu Ataulla Baiazitov vozrazil Ernestu Renanu," Peterburgskoe vostokovedenie 5 (1994): 584-90. 40 Ostroumov, Knran, 2 3 2. 41 P. Zhuze, "Islam i prosveshchenie," PS, February 1899, 529-39. On Zhuze's conservatism, see also Karimullin, Tatarskaia demokraticheskaia pechat', 221. In 1920 Zhuze was appointed to the faculty of the University of Baku and, remarkably, became a Marxist critic of European orientalism. The translator of his major work has called his analysis a precursor of Edward Said's. See Tamara Sonn, Interpreting Islam: Bandali Jawzi's Islamic Intellectual History (New York, 1996).

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with my entire being the power of this Muhammadan world, and its irresistible appeal to the people of the East." Nonetheless, the account concludes: "What can Christians do to prevent their converted brethren from being swallowed up by this world, which is so intelligible to them and so close to their nature?" Chicherina was more comfortable in a fully "alien" Orientthough she regarded it as an enemy territory-than in an Orient modified by contact with the West.42

Double Specter: Pan-Islamism and Pan-Turkism

In the context of other world events, the politicization of Tatar consciousness in Russia stoked Russian and European suspicions that there existed powerful global movements to unite all Muslims or all Turks for the purpose of creating new political entities and achieving universal domination. Although versions of both Pan-Turkism and Pan-Islamism were articulated in Russia and abroad at one time or another, neither could realistically be called a movement. The zeal with which tsarist officialdom sought to root out PanTurkist and Pan-Islamist elements in every conceivable Tatar institution was based on unnecessary hyperbole. It is often difficult to tell whether authorities were sincerely afraid of the chimerical "movements" and their pursuit of them tantamount to tilting at windmills, or whether they exploited such illusions as a pretext for repressive policies; probably both were true. Pan-Islamism was the older ideology, having been espoused by Sultan Abdu1 Hamid in the 188os as the new doctrine for shoring up the declining Ottoman Empire. Historically, Pan-Islamism is also the easier to dismiss as a mountain made of a molehill. In spite of popular European notions linking Pan-Islamism directly to the Koran and Islam itself, the idea was not based on any Koranic tradition, and really had no organizational structure in any country.43 Still, on its own the alleged threat of Pan-Islamism may have been enough to scare Russian officials. Some early expressions of alarm at the Muslim-Tatar "awakening" in Russia employed only that concept without the aid of Pan-Turkism, although it is possible that authors had both in mind, or thought of them as synonymous.44 There is widespread agreement that Pan-Turkism was far more influential in Russia, although opinions are divided as to its nature. Some historians argue that Pan-Turkism's political ambitions and appeal have been distorted by 42 S. V. Chicherina, U privolzhskikh inorodtsev: Putevye zametki (St. Petersburg, 1905), 181-82. Chicherina's feeling calls to mind the notion of a colonized people as an "intimate enemy." Ashis Nandy, The Intimate Enemy: Loss and Recovery of Self under Colonialism (New Delhi, 1983). 43 Adeeb Khalid, The Politics of Muslim Cultural Reform: Jadidism in Central Asia (Berkeley, 1998), 194-97· 44 See, for instance, V. Cherevanskii, Mir Islama i ego probuzhdenie: lstoricheskaia monografiia (St. Petersburg, 1901), written by a Russian state councilor with an interest in orientalism. "The world of Islam is awakening, but ... for what reason?-Only for the purpose of aggression!" (241).

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Proprietors and employees of a Tatar store, early twentieth century. (By permission Central Museum ofTatarstan.) lumping in with it various intellectual and cultural ideologies without any real political agenda (in the sense of the foundation of a universal Turkic nationstate).45 Others have pointed out ambiguities even within a political understanding of Pan-Turkism. Although some early publicists used "Turkism" to describe an ideology pertaining only to Turks in the Ottoman empire, whereas "Pan-Turkism" implied an irredentist ambition to unite Turks abroad as well, the two terms were soon used interchangeably.46 The resultant confusion certainly had ramifications for interpretations of Muslim nationalism within the Russian empire as well. Generally, tsarist officials chose to interpret any sort of Turkism (in Turkey or in Russia) as overwhelmingly political, irredentist, and aggressive, for that assessment justified stronger countermeasures. In Terjuman, Gasprinskii had expressed Pan-Turkic cultural aspirations within the Russian empire with his slogan of "unity in language, thought, and 45 Khalid (Politics, 1 98) suggests that this distinction can be expressed in the use of "Turkism" as opposed to "Pan-Turkism." See also David Kushner, The Rise ofTurkish Nationalism, I 876-IgoS (London, 1977), 46-49. Paul Dumont elides the distinction by describing some of the leading Pan-Turkist publications in the Ottoman empire after 1908 as "allegedly apolitical." Paul Dumont, "La revue Turk Yurdu et les musulmans de ('empire russe, 191 1-1914," CMRS 3-4 (1974): 3 1 7· 324· 46 Jacob M. Landau, Pan-Turkism: From Irredentism to Cooperation (Bloomington, 1995), 30, 34-35·

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action." In Kazan, however, Gasprinskii had from the beginning faced challenges from men such as Merjani and Nasyry, who were more interested in regional identity and language. Once it became legal to publish periodicals in the Kazan dialect, Gasprinskii's ideas became even less popular.47 It is true, however, that the Volga Tatars may have had their own brand ofPan-Turkism in mind, and sought to make their dialect a lingua franca for many Turkic subjects throughout the empire. For the most part, still, the pro-jadid press spoke of Muslim religious and cultural autonomy within Russia but not of political independence or even territorial autonomy.48 An explicitly political, global, and irredentist Pan-Turkist ideology did exist, and in a sense it was born in Kazan. Iusuf Akchura, its first major theoretician, was the son of a successful Volga Tatar textile manufacturer. Akchura's biography is further illustration of the international environment in which Tatar consciousness developed in the late tsarist period. Born near Simbirsk in 1876, as a child he moved to Istanbul with his mother, reportedly for financial or medical reasons (not to escape repression, as so many Russian Turks did). Akchura was educated in Turkey, but at the age of fourteen he began to make frequent visits to Russia again. Eventually, having met Nasyry and Gasprinskii, he became interested in Turkology and in political liberalism. Exiled from Turkey in 1897 for publishing an article on Merjani, Akchura landed in Paris, where he studied political science and developed the views on nationalism that led him to the Young Turk movement (Unity and Progress) and made him the principal link between related cultural developments in Turkey and Russia.49 Akchura moved back to Kazan in 1904 and took a job teaching history and geography in the Muhammediye medresse (founded 1901), a bastion of the jadid movement. In the fall of 1905 he became editor of the first Kazan Tatar newspaper, Kazan muhbiri (Kazan reporter). He was a leading participant in the first three Muslim congresses and the main negotiator of Ittifak's alliance with the Kadet party, to whose central committee he was elected. In 1904, in the Volga countryside, Akchura wrote what is considered the defining text of political Pan-Turkism, "Three Political Ways." The essay first appeared in a Turkic newspaper published in Cairo (such ideas still could not be published even in Turkey, let alone Russia), but later became available to Turks in Russia as a pamphlet. Akchura described three political strategies for protecting the Turkish state from centrifugal pressures within its minority regions: PanIslarnism, Ottomanism, and Pan-Turkism. The first, in Akchura's view, was geographically impracticable, for Muslim peoples were widely dispersed throughout the world. The Ottomanist approach would have involved forcing minorities in the empire to assimilate against their will. Akchura saw most promise in the creation of a new state encompassing all the Turkic peoples. It Validov, Ocherk, 53; Zenkovsky, Pan-Turkism, uz-r6. Bennigsen and Lemercier-Quelquejay, Presse, 42, 48, 65. 49 Zenkovsky, Pan-Turkism, 38-39·

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is important to note that in Akchura's view the political union of all the world's Turks was far in the future; one of his biographers has insisted that Akchura was rarely engaged in political action, being much more comfortable with pure theory.so Furthermore, Akchura's espousal ofPan-Turkism actually set him apart from the Young Turks. Fearing Akchura's election to the Duma, the tsarist government detained him for several weeks in 1906 for supposed association with the Social Democrats. He was later investigated for publishing a denunciation of the coup of June 3, 1907, and in 1908 moved back to Istanbul after the revolution of the Young Turks restored constitutional rule to the Ottoman empire. To many Europeans and Russians, this revolution increased the seriousness of the PanTurkist threat. Many Russian Turks such as Akchura went abroad to enjoy the results, and some became propagandists for ethnic unity across borders. Akchura sent articles on Turkish events to Orenburg for publication in the newspaper Vakyt (Time), and in 191 I became the editor of a wildly popular Pan-Turkist newspaper, Turk Yurdu (Turkish Homeland). 51 Another key figure in the dissemination of Pan-Turkist ideology (political as well as cultural) was Ahmed Agaev (Agaoglu), an Azeri also educated in Paris. A journalist and Duma deputy, Agaev was similarly motivated by a combination of curiosity regarding the revolution and problems with the Russian police when he left for Turkey in 1908. Agaev soon became the chief education inspector for Istanbul.S2 Many Russian officials feared that the flourishing of cultural ties between the Russian Turks and Turks elsewhere could lead to political schemes to wrest the Turkic regions from the Russian empire. Some publicists now reinterpreted earlier events in light of the rise ofTurkic nationalism. The Petersburg newspaper Novoe vremia reported in 1909 that the war with Japan had fostered hopes among Russia's Tatars that an autonomous government of the Turkic peoples would soon be established in the Volga-Ural region, with its center at Bolgary. "Legend has it," the paper said, "that the mikado in signing the peace [of Portsmouth] put forth as one of his main conditions the immediate creation of this fabled Tiurkestan. Recent events in Istanbul have colored this legend with rumors that Abdul-Hamid was overthrown because he was not sufficiently insistent about the creation of Tiurkestan and gave in to the Russian authorities on this question."53 Only the widespread support of Pan-Turkism in the Ottoman empire would have made a truly irredentist Pan-Turkist political agenda feasible. 54 50 R. F. Mukhammetdinov, Zarozhdenie i evoliutsiia tiurkizma (Kazan, 1996), 70; Fran~;ois Georgeon, "Yusuf Ak~;ura," pt. 2, "Le Mouvement national des musulmans de Russie (1905-1908)," CAS 5, no. 2 (1986): 62. 51 Dumont, "Revue," 315-31; Landau, Pan-Turkism, 40-45. 52 Dumont, "Revue," 306-7; Landau, Pan-Turkism, 36. 53 "Magometanskaia agitatsiia," Novoe vremia, June 3, 1909. 54 Mukhammetdinov, Zarozhdenie, 30. Elsewhere (183-85) Mukhammetdinov describes PanTurkism as a "bugaboo."

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Under Abdul Hamid, Pan-Turkism had been suspect and even punishable (this was why Akchura had left Turkey in 1897). After the 1908 revolution it went from being marginally acceptable to "well regarded by an important part of the state's political leadership," to being the Young Turks' favored approach to national identity. 55 Though it never entirely displaced competing strategies of Ottomanism and Pan-Islamism, it took on a rather aggressive irredentist pose before and during the First World War, when the Ottomans and Germans sponsored extensive propaganda in Russia, where about half the world's Turks lived. Emigres from Russia, naturally, played a large role in the propagandizing in Russia. There is remarkably little evidence, however, that that propaganda was very successful, and there is no question that the Turkic peoples overwhelmingly supported the Russian war effort.56 Though the Russian state did not conjure the concepts of Pan-Turkism and Pan-Islamism out of thin air, there is no doubt that their centrality in its discussions of the Russian Muslims distorted their content and exaggerated their extent and significance. According to the historian Serge Zenkovsky, particularly after the reactionary coup of 1907 Russian Turks' interest in Turkey was "merely a platonic and sentimental attachment to a country of the same religion and a related tongue. Aside from some minor exceptions, it did not lead to activities directed against the political unity of the Russian Empire. Tatars, Bashkirs, and Kazakhs became more and more preoccupied with cultural, social, and economic problems of their own, as well as with those of Russia."57 Tsarist police archives show that attempts to ferret out Pan-Islamism and Pan-Turkism usually ended in failure and an admission that these doctrines, though occasionally expressed in Tatar newspapers, had no specific program or organizational existence in Russia. 58 Erratic and contradictory descriptions of the supposed Pan-Islamist and Pan-Turkist movements in tsarist sources are further testimony to the hyperbolic nature of this literature. In contrast to earlier notions oflslamic fanaticism, which held mullahs responsible for sowing ignorance among Muslims, the credibility of the threats of Pan-Islamism and Pan-Turkism depended on the belief that it was actually the most educated and most secularized Muslims who posed the greatest danger. Chicherina, among others, had implied such a pattern. In her travels, she recognized two trends among the Muslims of Russia, and illustrated them by portraits of two men. One was a twentyfive-year-old Tatar with a secular Russian education and radical sympathies, the other a thirty-year-old son of a rural mullah who had completed a 55 Landau, Pan-Turkism, 38-39, 45-47; Zenkovsky, Pan-Turkism, 106-7; Khalid, Politics, 292---93; Mukhammetdinov, Zarozhdenie, 43· 56 Landau, Pan-Turkism, 48-53; Zenkovsky, Pan-Turkism, 107, 123-27. 57 Ibid., r I6-I7; see also A. Kanlidere, Reform within Islam (Istanbul, I999), I I I. 58 RGIA, f. 82I, op. 8, d. 8oo, ll. 37-38,64, 47I-72.

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medresse education with the intention of becoming a mullah himself. Both had lived in the Middle East. The former returned with a commitment to the unification oflslamic culture inside and outside Russia, disgust with the activities of Orthodox missionaries, and dreams of Muslims' secession from Russia to a new Pan-Islamic state. The latter returned newly devoted to Russia, convinced of its superiority to the Islamic states, and determined to learn the Russian language and become a "true son of Russia."59 Yet a 191 I report released by the imperial chief of police used a source describing Pan-Islamism as the work of the older, more traditional mullahs and uncritically suggested that the movement's main ideas "can only be destroyed by the cultural development of the Muslims."60 There were also misunderstandings and contradictions regarding the origins of the ideologies. Many Russians liked to portray the movements as "artificially" imposed on Russia's Turks from the outside. This stance helped to delegitimize the claims and demands inherent in the ideologies, and to justify the most draconian measures for safeguarding the integrity of the empire against foreign threats. In fact, however, many say the movements began in Russia, or at least emerged more or less simultaneously in the Russian and Ottoman empires.61 Furthermore, they were not really analogies to the earlier, imperialistic doctrines of Pan-Germanism and Pan-Slavism but defensive responses to those ideologies.62 They represented the Turkic peoples' adoption under stress of the European rhetoric of nationalism and imperialism, and the seeking of cultural aid and morale from outside of Russia's borders, not some age-old peculiarity of Eastern identity. In sum, the notions of Pan-Islamism and Pan-Turkism as organized and potent political movements imposed a false uniformity on the various changes among the Muslim peoples of the Russian empire and their position in the empire. They essentially reflected Russian fears of the Muslims' organized self-assertion-in other words, of Muslim Turks' espousal of nationalism. 63 Because such self-assertion usually involved defending one's own culture against various forms of attempted Russification, tsarist authorities took the opportunity to label it as "anti-Russian" sentiment, so that the Turkic peoples would appear to be the party most guilty of chauvinism. Many Russians (echoed later by the historian Zenkovsky) also charged that the focus on religion was a "disguise" for an essentially national consciousness, as if it were a deliberate attempt to mislead.64 The fact is, however, that demographically there was little difference between the collectivity of Turks and that of MusChicherina, U privolzhskikh inorodtsev, I 76--79· Arsharuni and Gabidullin, Ocherki, I I I. 61 Landau, Pan-Turkism, 3o-31 62 Kushner, Rise, 8; Mukhammetdinov, Zarozhdenie, I83-85; Landau, Pan-Turkism, 8--9, I86. 63 See Norman Daniel, Islam, Europe and Empire (Edinburgh, I966), 28I, 385-86,467. 64 Zenkovsky, Pan-Turkism, 45, 105, 27I; Landau, Pan-Turkism, II, 46. 59

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lims in the Russian empire. Since most of the injustices the Turks suffered were based on religious discrimination, it was natural for them to conceive of their movement as a Muslim one. Many Russians believed the distinction to be moot in any event, since they thought the Koran instructed Muslims to form states on the basis of their religion; in other words, they saw Islam as no less a political category than the Turkic nation. Although the hypothetical states to be formed on the basis of Pan-Islamism and Pan-Turkism would have been significantly different, with regard to geographic and demographic implications for the Russian empire the distinction would not have been great. Not only Russians were preoccupied with these elusive threats. During this era, the major European powers were all publishing journals on Islam, the most influential of which was France's Revue du monde musulman. Published from 1906 to 1926, this journal reported from around the globe on contemporary Muslim communities and movements, with ample coverage of the Russian empire. Depicting the so-called Muslim world as "caught in the full rush of change, rather than learned disquisitions upon minute points in obscure Islamic treatises," and offering numerous translations from Muslim periodicals, it was, in the words of a historian of Islamology, "the very opposite of the colonial vulgate," the hoary canon of reductive truisms about Islam. Yet the journal did not manage definitively to "shatter the colonial paradigms" because it was haunted by "the specter of pan-Islam."65 According to Maxime Rodinson, this European obsession was "an essentially reactionary phenomenon" based on fears of "the real, but hardly inevitable, danger posed by a return in the East to an earlier theocratic state. Adhering to this single archaic vision, [scholars concerned with Pan-Islam] not only devalued other active social forces present in the Middle East, but, by their contempt, encouraged these social forces to pursue a reactionary course." In other words, they revised and thus preserved an orientalist stereotype under the guise of political rationality. In European tradition, Muslims were seen as theocratic, narrow-minded fanatics. When the secularization, self-criticism, and debate of the jadid movement challenged this stereotype, it was easier for Russians to reincarnate the old image than to discard it altogether. According to Rodinson, European scholars frightened by the specter of Pan-Islam "were once again irresistibly drawn to a vision of the East that hearkened back to the Middle Ages: the struggle was still between two politically and ideologically opposed worlds." 66 The Muslim with a purely scholastic outlook was a provincial-minded fanatic; now that he might be receiving a broader education, he was transformed into a political fanatic with global ambitions. 65 Edmund Burke III, "The Sociology oflslam: The French Tradition," in Islamic Studies: A Tradition and Its Problems, ed. Malcolm Kerr (Malibu, Calif., 1980), 85. 66 Maxime Rodinson, Europe and the Mystique of Islam, trans. Roger Veinus (Seattle, 1991), 67-68.

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Sadri Maksudov spent much of his energy in the Third Duma trying to debunk such ideas and accusations. In a December 1908 discussion of the Foreign Ministry budget, he assured the Duma that Russian Muslims' sympathy with Turkey came from an understanding of Russia's best interests, not from a specifically religious affinity with the Turks, as was sometimes alleged. "Pan-Islamism, according to European Islamophobes, is a movement having the goal of a unified force of all Muslims on the basis of fanaticism, to destroy European civilization and smash the entire Christian world-in a word, it is a doctrine that propagates a more enormous pogrom than human history has ever known." Such slander on the Muslim world, Maksudov asserted, could not stand up to scrutiny. In his broad knowledge of the literature of Muslim peoples, he said, he had not seen a single "anti-European" idea. "Yes, gentlemen ... the Muslim East is awakening, one could say it has already awoken, but this movement is not a fanatical movement, an anticultural movement, it is a European, progressive movement, the kind of sociological phenomenon that history calls a renaissance. It has all the traits that characterized the period of the Renaissance in Western Europe." Europe was not prepared for this enormous development in the Muslim world, according to Maksudov, "not because it was hidden, but because Europe never wanted to give up its old view of the East." Especially here in Russia, ignorance of the Muslim East is something unbelievable. Our self-called orientalists put out books and pamphlets talking of PanIslamism, of fanaticism, of harems, of everything except the important question of what is happening in the minds of Muslims and what consequences may come for Russia from the intellectual revolution in the Muslim world .... Gentlemen, the Muslim East has been transformed; accordingly our relationship to the East must change as well.67

Of course, the Tatars on the whole were perhaps not so innocent as Maksudov claimed. One has to wonder why he chose categorically to deny the existence of Pan-Islamism and Pan-Turkism as ideas (Maksudov claimed that they were purely a figment of Russian missionaries' imaginations) instead of simply explaining to the Russian public that few people were actually motivated by such utopian notions. Maksudov's disingenuousness may even have played a part in fueling the suspicions of Russian chauvinists. 67 GD III, sess. 2, mtg. 31 (Dec. 12, 1908), cols. 2667-69. Other issues on which Maksudov protested in the Duma included Russian encroachment on Kazakh nomadic lands and on Finnish political autonomy; disenfranchisement of Turkestan Muslims under the electoral law of]une 3, 1907; the state sale of vodka in Turkic regions; a bill requiring non-Christian shopkeepers to close on Sundays; the government's taxation of Muslims without funding their confessional schools; and the proposed "nationalization" of state credit. Aida, Sadri Maksudov, 6o--7o; Arsharuni and Gabidullin, Ocherki, 43-46.

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Wall against the East: The Special Conference on Islam, 1910 Several historians have described Prime Minister Petr Stolypin's political evolution in the two years or so before his death as a shift rightward. In his struggle to placate the forces of order, Stolypin seized on Russian nationalists' interest in limiting the power of minority peoples. The best known of these causes involved the western borderlands, Poland and Finland.68 But Stolypin also dabbled in measures to paralyze the influence of the Volga Tatars. In 1908 and 1909, Stolypin and Aleksei N. Kharuzin, director of the MVD's Department of Religious Affairs of Foreign Confessions, corresponded with church and state officials in the Volga region who were distressed about the Tatars' growing religious and cultural influence. Typical of the reports they received was one by Bishop Aleksii (Dorodnitsyn), rector of the Kazan Theological Academy, interpreting the Tatar cultural awakening as evidence of a widespread Pan-lslamist conspiracy. Some young Tatars' desire to return to the foundations oflslam, their growing interest in secular education, ties with Turks outside the Russian empire, and the proliferation of charitable associations for Muslims, the bishop asserted, indicated plans to foment a global religious war against Christianity.69 On the basis of such materials, Stolypin told the ober-prokuror of the Holy Synod in September 1909 that Muslim propaganda in the Volga region was evidence of a "struggle [bor'ba] between the Orthodox Russian and the Muhammadan Tatar principles." He characterized this as "not a religious struggle, but a political [gosudarstvennaia], cultural one." The Tatars were in the throes, he said, of "a national revival that has taken on a religious coloring and has been expressed in the building of mosques even in the smallest villages, as well as the opening of schools and the publication of literary works." A few weeks later, Stolypin began planning a commission of church, educational, and administrative personnel knowledgeable about measures for "raising the cultural level of the local Orthodox population" in the Volga. The Special Commission for the Formulation of Measures toward Counteracting the Tatar-Muslim Influence in the Volga Region, as it 68 Peter Waldron, Between Two Revolutions: Stolypin and the Politics ofRenewal in Russia (London, 1998), 139-45, 167; Geoffrey Hosking, The Russian Constitutional Experiment: Government and Duma, 1907-1914 (Cambridge, 1973), 106-49, 216-22; Robert Edelman, Gentry Politics on the Eve of the Russian Revolution: The Nationalist Party, 1907-1917 (New Brunswick, N.J., 198o), 91-II3· 69 The published version is "Sovremennoe dvizhenie v srede russkikh musul'man," PS, 1910, 419-5 5. A copy of the original report is in RGIA, f. 82 r, op. 8, d. 8oo. Discussing the role of the bishop's report in the Russian government's growing paranoia, Sadri Maksudov told the State Duma in 1912, "Don't think that Bishop Aleksii is well informed about the Muslims just because he lives in Kazan. Perhaps you are assuming that he knows the languages of the Muslims, and so forth? You are wrong: he borrows all his information from foreign authors-the French, Germans, and English-and he himself, living in Kazan, knows nothing about Muslims." GD III, sess. 3, mtg. 52 (Feb. 20, 1910), cols. 1917-IB. Aleksii's chief source, in fact, was Revue du monde musul-

man.

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was called officially, convened in St. Petersburg from January 10 to 18, 1910.70 Kharuzin presided over the meeting, and Stolypin himself was not even present. Other participants from the MVD were Governors Strizhevskii and Kamyshanskii of Kazan and Viatka provinces, respectively, and two Petersburg officials. Church representatives were Bishops Aleksii and Andrei of Kazan; Vladimir M. Skvortsov, the synod's specialist on missions; and Pavel N. Luppov, of the Synod School Council. The MNP sent the director of its Department of Public Education, S. I. Antsyferov; two members of its council, S. F. Speshkov and N. A. Bobrovnikov; and the curator of the St. Petersburg circuit, A. A. OstroumovJl Many of the commissioners were well known to Kazan from their involvement in missionary work, pedagogy, or ethnographic research among nonRussian peoples. Speshkov had earlier been curator of the Kazan Education Circuit, Bobrovnikov director of the Kazan Teachers' Seminary. Luppov had attended the missionary division of the Kazan Theological Academy and published ethnographic articles on the Votiaks in connection with the Multan case. Skvortsov, as we will see later, was in the midst of preparations for a congress of missionaries to be held in Kazan. Kharuzin himself had done ethnographic work on the Central Asian peoples, and his brother and sister were also well-known ethnographers. After the meetings, Kharuzin prepared a report weaving the contributions of the various participants into one narrative about the rise of the Volga Tatars' cultural aspirations.7 2 He used the terms Pan-Turkism and Pan-Islamism copiously, and attributed these movements to the Volga Tatars' extensive contact with foreigners. Because of the nature of such movements and the central role of the Tatars in them, the document explained, this meeting was the first step in a broad plan for regaining control over all of Russia's Muslim-populated regions. Stolypin, in his own version of the report presented to the Council of Ministers, said that "the study of these phenomena [of Tatar cultural revival] shows that they are not coincidental, but emanate from the carefully organized program of the Pan-Islamists."73 The report contained three sets of recommendations for stopping the spread of "antistate" Pan-Islamist and Pan-Turkist ideas and the Tatar nationalism responsible for it. "Religious-educational measures" included im70 RGIA, f. 821, op. 8, d. Boo, II. 5I-5Iob., 72-73. A government subsidy of 2,ooo rubles per year to the conservative newspaper Kazanskii telegraffrom I 908 to I 9 I I might have been designed to ensure reporting that would support the aims of the meeting. See Waldron, Between Two Revolutions, I 6 2. 71 RGIA, f. 821, op. 8, d. 801, I. I6o. 72 The report was published in A. Arsharuni, "Iz istorii natsional'noi politiki tsarizma," Krasnyi arkhiv 34 (April I929): 107-27; 35 (May I929): 6I-83. The article consists of Arsharuni's introduction followed by the text, "Zhurnal osobogo soveshchaniia po vyrabotke mer dlia protivodeistviia tatarsko-musul'manskomu vliianiiu v Privolzhskom krae," henceforth cited as "Zhurnal." 73 Quoted in Arsharuni, "Iz istorii," 108.

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proving the education of Orthodox inorodtsy by increasing state subsidies to Kazan missionary institutions. The Theological Academy's missionary division would get more faculty positions and provide better assistance to its graduates in finding work as missionaries. Religious seminaries in all dioceses with large inorodets populations, it was recommended, should require the study of the local languages. Also, missionary schools for inorodtsy should teach pupils how to engage in polemics against Muslims, the Theological Academy should publish a new journal on the subject, and the material conditions of Orthodox priests in communities with inorodtsy should be improved.74 On the administrative front, the report recommended the coordination of various state organs-church diocese, school district, and provincial governor's office-in areas with Muslim populations; the establishment of an MVD periodical to review the Muslim press in Russia and abroad; and the translation and publication of materials on Islamic law. To counteract the institutional Tatarization of Muslims, it prescribed a reform of the Orenburg muftiate's qualifying examinations for Muslim clergy (enabling them to be conducted in languages other than Tatar), and the division of the muftiate into several bodies covering smaller geographical areas.75 The most important topic of the report, however, was the schooling of the Muslim peoples in the Volga region, particularly in the confessional schools. In 1909 Enikeev had said to the State Duma, "It would seem that [MNP] officials should give assistance to the flourishing of the Muslim new-method school. It would seem that they should welcome the beginning of this strong cultural movement, but in actuality we are seeing the complete opposite."76 The meeting ofJanuary 1910 was the final confirmation of official hostility to the jadids. According to its participants, these Muslim activists had turned the new-method mektebs and medresses into institutions providing "general" (obshcheobrazovatel'nyz) education. "Under the pretext of the demands of the rational study of [the Tatars'] religion, Islam," the report read, "subjects having nothing to do with religion have been introduced: arithmetic, the history of Turkey, and the geography of Turkey. At the same time, Russian language, Russian history, and Russian geography have been completely ignored, and the artificially constructed Pan-Turkic language has been disseminated." Commission members feared that these modernized Muslim schools, representing cultural autonomy for the Tatars, would give their pupils a worldview more closely associated with Turkey than with Russia, and that the availability of a general education in them would keep Muslims from sending their children to Russian schools. Calling school organization "the entire essence of solving the formidable Muslim question," the meeting decided to handle the threat of the new Muslim schools by making "a clear demarcation of the "Zhurnal," 12o-27. Ibid., 74-79· 76 GD III, sess. 2, mtg. 97 (Apr.

74

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purely confessional sphere from the purely cultural-educational" and by prohibiting anything falling into the latter from being included in Muslim instruction. 77 Since 1870, Russian policy on Muslim confessional schools had been based on the principle that Russian classes would either transform those schools gradually into secular institutions or raise Tatars' interest in attending MNP schools. Kharuzin now declared that principle to be invalid. All schools offering any nonconfessional instruction would have to drop those subjects or be closed. On the other hand, all mektebs and medresses now existing underground for refusing to include Russian classes would automatically become legal. Later the MVD in concert with representatives of the Muslim clergy would prescribe a uniform curriculum for the confessional schools. To compensate for the closing of many confessional schools, Kharuzin's report suggested, the MNP would cooperate with local organizations to open general schools for Muslims. Those illegal mektebs and medresses that did not wish to resume a purely confessional character could, subject to certain regulations, become private. The Tatar Teachers' Schools would be preserved in order to train new teachers for MNP schools until the time when Muslim communities would be willing to hire teachers from the Russian teachers' seminaries (to which Muslims should now be directed as well, the report recommended). The teaching oflocal non-Russian languages in these seminaries would be improved and Muslim religious instruction would be made available. At first glance, the report's educational recommendations may seem to have been a sound and rational approach to Muslim education within the tsarist framework. The key issue, presumably, was state control over school administration. Of the two types of schools devised in 187o for Russifying the Muslims, the commission was simply discarding the one that relied heavily on indigenous Muslim institutions now that it realized the impossibility of keeping track of these schools' curricula. One would hardly have expected the Russian state to tolerate schools that directed civic education more toward identification with Turkey than with Russia, if this were in fact the case. Yet simply to close down all confessional schools would have been seen as religious persecution at its most heinous. As an alternative, the state hoped to lure young people out of the mektebs and medresses, and get these schools to wither away slowly, by giving the MNP schools a monopoly on all secular subjects, including the Russian language.78 This arrangement might have suited the needs of the Tatars and other Muslims. The MNP regulations of 1907 permitted all national minorities to receive instruction in their native languages, with qualified teachers in the state schools providing non-Christian religious education as demanded. 77 "Zhurnal," 119. 78 RGIA, f. 821, op. 8, d. 8o1, I. 166.

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Mektebs and medresses currently engaged in general education were offered three options: to return to confessional status, to convert to private status under state regulations, or to shut down. Although data on the exact educational preferences of Russia's Muslim population are lacking, there is evidence to suggest that Muslims' attitudes toward Russian schools had improved in recent decades. More Tatar clergy than ever were willing to participate in MNP schools and to see their communities' children receive a not entirely Islamic education. Zemstvos were becoming more attentive to this changing climate and making plans for the education of Muslim constituents. 79 Closer analysis of the commission, however, gives its approach to the education of Muslims a different hue. In light of the discussions, the personalities, and the political context, it is difficult not to interpret the commission's outcome as rash and irrational, promising more harm than good to ChristianMuslim relations in the empire. Early on, Kharuzin posed what he called the central question for the proceedings: "Is the straying of the Tatar-Muslim schools beyond the boundaries of the confessional school permissible, and if not, then what measures must be taken to prevent the reorganization of the schools?" All participants immediately agreed that such a state of affairs was not tolerable, and that only state schools should be permitted to provide "general education."80 Two days later, Kharuzin proposed the following formulation, which appeared more or less identically in the final report: 1. Confessional education, conducted in the mother tongue, must be separated from general education. Confessional schools should teach only subjects related to the study of religion; the study of other subjects is not permissible and even the organization ofRussian classes is undesirable. 2. A sharp distinction must be drawn between confessional and general education, and a curriculum for the purely confessional school worked out with the collaboration of the Muslims themselves. 3. Confessional education is the property of the population itself and must be wholly under the management of the clergy, with the state reserving the power of registration and oversight.SI

The clause prohibiting Russian-language classes in mektebs and medresses is particularly interesting. Even with its gentle wording, this abrupt reversal of policy seems unnecessarily extreme, since nothing in the report specifically indicated any negative consequences of Russian-language study. In fact, the document complained-quite erroneously, as far as the medresses were concerned-about the relative neglect of Russian in the schools. The commission gave little consideration to options such as setting an acceptable nonreli79 An encouraging prognosis on the zemstvos was D.P., "K voprosu o prosveshchenii tatar," Nachal'noe obuchenie 8 (1910): 247-55, esp. 25o-51. so RGIA, f. 821, op. 8, d. 8o1, 11. 169'-70. 81 Ibid., I. 155-1550b.; emphasis added.

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gious curriculum for the schools, barring only certain secular subjects such as Turkish studies, or requiring Russian studies. Kharuzin, it appears, saw a purge of the confessional school curriculum purely as an act of prohibition. He had little concern for what new schools were needed to compensate for the closing of mektebs and medresses and to enhance the likelihood that Muslims would seek a well-rounded "Russian" education. Only Nikolai Bobrovnikov raised this issue when he objected to the proposed crackdown on confessional schools. Such a strict policy, Bobrovnikov said, did not take into account the current limitations of the MNP schools; it would force many children out of school and lead to Tatar unrest. sz In 1905 Bobrovnikov had calculated the number of new schools and teachers needed to satisfy the total demand for primary education in Kazan province. For the Muslim population, he had described optimistically the progress made by confessional schools in offering education of a general nature, and in applying improved teaching methods. He estimated that the confessional schools largely satisfied the Muslims' demand for education, and recommended only that the province offer a large number of Russian-language classes for Muslims to attend for two hours each day. In other words, Bobrovnikov saw the Muslim confessional schools as part of a solid basis for universal (ultimately, perhaps, obligatory) education in the province.83 The MNP's recent relations with Tatars were not favorable to any changes in policy. The controversy over the regulations of March 31, 1906, had caused great damage; by 1910, besides the bad feelings emanating from this episode, the MNP had precious little to offer the Muslim population. The number of schools in Russia was insufficient even for just the Russian population. The most promising initiative for universal (but not obligatory) primary schooling would soon founder partly on the issue of provisions for the instructional use of minority languages. In October 1910 a bill was introduced to the Duma that would have allowed for two years of instruction in pupils' native languages, with simultaneous learning of Russian (a subcommittee of the Duma's education committee had recommended four years, but after some controversy the committee as a whole changed it to two).84 The bill passed the Duma in May 191 I, but a year later was rejected by the State Ibid., d. Boo, 1. zgo--zgoob. Bobrovnikov, Shkol'naia set', 6. It is no doubt relevant that Bobrovnikov, ceasing simply to mimic Il'minskii's approach to the Muslim question, had also softened his opinion on the question of a Tatar periodical press. In 1904 he wrote to the director of press affairs for the empire, "I was always against allowing a Tatar newspaper in Kazan, but I recognize that now we must give in. The Tatar self-consciousness expressed in the press is growing with every year, and it cannot be stopped by purely mechanical prohibitions." Quoted in Usmanova, "Tatarische Presse," 24o--41. Bobrovnikov's later pre-1917 publications indicate that he became a political liberal. 84 This change angered many members of the Muslim fraction and led to bitter debates in which deputies supporting the lower limit were accused of intentions to subject Muslims to cultural and religious Russification. See remarks by Syrtlanov, Maksudov, and Gaidarov in GD Ill, sess. 3, mtg. roo (May 3, 1910), col. 574; sess. 4, mtg. 5 (Oct. 2 3, rgro), cols. 367-76, and mtg. 7 (Oct. 27, rgro), cols. 502-9. 82

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Council, which refused to allow more than one year of native-language instruction. 85 State-organized education for Muslims was little ahead of where it had been in I87o. And though the secularizing confessional schools were heavily enrolled, it was not clear how many families were willing to send their children to schools administered by Russians, no matter what kind of education they offered. Moreover, there is little reason to think that Stolypin was prepared to push the MNP to increase schooling opportunities for Muslims. True, the zemstvos were beginning to respond to the Muslim demand for schooling, and in I9I I pursued negotiations with Muslim communities on this matter. In at least one school district for which information is available, however, local MNP personnel opposed such efforts. 86 And shortly after Kharuzin's meeting, one of its participants, Bishop Andrei of Kazan, expressed opposition to allowing zemstvo schools to admit Muslim Tatars together with Russians and Christian inorodtsy.87 The MNP never acted to implement the commission's prohibition on secular learning in Muslim confessional schools, probably for fear of Tatar protests. Instead, the MVD enforced the prohibition in its own, more blunt way. Throughout the Volga-Ural region and Central Asia, it pursued every opportunity to accuse Muslim intellectuals and pedagogues of spreading PanIslamist and Pan-Turkist propaganda. Though this campaign had begun before I9IO, the meeting gave it renewed impetus. Reportedly, in I9I I alone over ISO raids and searches were conducted in the Volga-Ural provinces, resulting in the closing of some 70 institutions, including schools, publishing houses, community organizations, and bookstores, and the dismissal of scores of teachers.88 The most notorious was the closing of the Bobi medresse (Viatka province) and the arrest of ten of its teachers for allegedly disseminating Pan-Turkist, Pan-Islamist, and antigovernment ideas.89 In these systematic attacks on the Volga Tatar jadids, Stolypin, Kharuzin, and their associates clearly were not fostering the necessary climate for encouraging more Muslims to enroll their children in Russian schools (much less convert to Ortho85 The State Council also objected to the bill's attempt to weaken Orthodox Church influence in education. Hosking, Russian Constitutional Experiment, I78; Philip Santa Maria, The Question of Elementary Education in the Third Russian State Duma, I907-I9I2 (Lewiston, N.Y., I99o), 56-57, 79-87. 86 Rorlich, Volga Tatars, 9o-9I; M.A. Miropiev, ed., Zhurnaly zasedanii s"ezda direktorov i inspektorov narodnykh uchilishch orenburgskogo uchebnogo okruga v g. Ufe, I I-I6 iiunia I9I2 goda (Ufa, I9I3), 373-7787 leromonakb Serafim, Pervyi v Rossii po vneshnei missii Kazanskii Missionerskii s"ezd, I 3-26 iiunia I9IO goda, (Nizhnii Novgorod, I9rr), I:42; henceforth cited as Kazanskii missionerskii s"ezd; "K voprosu ob inorodcheskoi shkole v Privolzhskom krae," OR I 3 ( I9 II): I 93--96. Andrei accused the zemstvos of "liberalism" because of their involvement in the education of Muslims. 88 Cited by Maksudov in GD Ill, sess. 5, mtg. 93 (Mar. I3, I9I2), cols. 978-79. 89 For the accusations, see Arsharuni and Gabidullin, Ocherki, I 5. According to Rorlich (Volga Tatars, 97--99), the teachers were convicted in I9I2. Validov (Ocherk, 67), however, states that the teachers were acquitted but the school's head, Abdulla Bobi, and his brother were each sentenced to a year and a half in prison. It is agreed that the school never reopened.

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doxy, as some participants continued to hope).90 Evidently they were less concerned with regularizing the secular educational opportunities available to Muslims than with keeping Muslims away from secular and general education, isolated from Russian society.9I No matter how critical Russians had been of Islamic schools in the past, they now realized that they preferred Muslims to be parochial and ignorant rather than enlightened and active citizens. They became nostalgic for Muslims they could patronize and ridicule rather than respect as equals. Using state policy, therefore, they tried to shore up the somewhat dilapidated wall between Russia's East and its West and gave up on promoting interaction and rapprochement between the two. More remarkable than the wall itself was the material with which it was built-the most conservative part of the Muslim clergy. To repress the jadid movement the government brokered a bizarre alliance with the element of Muslim society Russians had scorned most. These traditionalist mullahs were certain to look unfavorably on the education plan for Muslims outlined in Kharuzin's report. While the jadids had played an important role in Tatars' growing interest in education outside the confessional schools, the kadimists had usually opposed any Russian involvement whatsoever in Muslim education, accusing the jadids of capitulating to Russian values. In 1906 Reshid lbragimov had secured government permission to hold the Third Muslim Congress by assuring Stolypin that the gathering was designed to thwart (among other things) the obscurantism of the older clergy. Now the government embraced these "fanatics," who were glad to support police accusations that the jadids were plotting an overthrow of Russian power. The police, eager to please their superiors, often failed to question the merits of such accusations.92 A Soviet historian showed that during the election campaigns for 90 The repression, perhaps, was too short-lived (because of war and revolutions) to have had a significant effect on Muslim interest in Russian schools, which evidently continued to rise. I disagree, however, with Zenkovsky's opinion (Pan-Turkism, 119-2r) that Tatar interest in Russian schools rose significantly only after government repression curbed Turkist and anti-Russian propaganda. In my view, the trend was a more gradual one that had begun even before r905. Zenkovsky overestimates the hostility to Russian education of influential leaders such as Maksudov (themselves often products of Russian schools). See ibid., 30ITI54, which is not substantiated by available sources. 91 In r9r4, another conference organized by the MVD lamented the transformation of the confessional schools and called for the same measure. Whereas the r9ro report had argued against allowing such education on the basis that it was highly irregular ("all this general education is presented in the medresses and mektebs in an insufficiently systematic way"; these schools "cannot be considered schools that can provide rational popular education"), in I9I4 officials complained that the confessional schools had turned into a "systematic network fplanrmzernaia setj of institutions of general education" and that Muslims had even begun "the establishment of a special organ for the governance of Muslim school affairs ... a sort of special Ministry of Education for Muslims" ("Zhurnal," 64; RGIA, f. 82r, op. ro, d. 5r7, I. 69). 92 Rorlich, Volga Tatars, 97-98. According to Arsharuni and Gabidullin (Ocherki, rS-20), conservative mullahs had begun to slander the jadids in correspondence to theMVD as early as r905. For more on this alliance (which may have preceded the r9ro education debate) see Mark Batunsky, "Russian Clerical Islamic Studies in the Late r9th and Early 20th Centuries," CAS r3 (r994): 226-27.

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the Fourth Duma in 1912, Kharuzin and his department also attempted to put pressure on the governor of Kazan to manipulate local politics so as to ensure victory for kadimist candidates over jadidists. In 1913, moreover, Baiazitov was appointed mufti.93 A few weeks after the meeting, Sadri Maksudov denounced the proceedings to the State Duma. The essence of Kharuzin's recommendations, Maksudov said, was a desire to separate Tatars' religion from their nationality, "to fight against the Muslims as a nation, while giving them some temporary freedom as a religion." Gentlemen, I must tell you that the Russian Muslims have never distinguished their religion from their nationality. When a Russian Muslim says that he's a Muslim, an adherent of Islam, he means by Islam the totality of national traditions plus religion. Therefore an attack on the nationality is at the same time an attack on the religion, and vice versa .... As a nationality, we will also strive to develop our literature, our language, in sum to live as separate nationalities do insofar as this does not contradict our calling as Russian citizens.94

The idea that Muslims in Russia constituted a single nation, of course, took for granted that their linguistic and cultural commonalities as Turkic peoples clearly overpowered their differences. Maksudov and other members of the Duma's Muslim fraction continually pretended to be oblivious of any suggestion that the Turkic peoples of Russia might not really be a single "nation" or "people." Occasionally they fell into odd phrasings such as "the native language of the Muslims," by which they meant the literary Turkic language that some (not all) of the empire's Muslim elites could read, which transcended colloquial differences among the Turkic languages. 95 Regarding their admitted attempts to forge cultural and political unity among Muslims/Turks within the Russian empire, it is beyond doubt that Volga Tatars were motivated at least in part by the knowledge that such unity would enhance their own power. Instead, however, they pretended that the national unity of all these peoples was a matter of objective fact, and ignored any evidence that some of the Turkic peoples might want to retain their separate identities. Such reticence only tempted Russian antagonists to force the question of nationality into their own pseudo-objective mold. Just as Russian missionaries thought they knew beyond a shadow of a doubt the one correct definition oflslam, tsarist statesmen claimed knowledge of objective distinctions between the Volga Tatars and other Turkic groups. The truth is, of course, that whether they lumped national groups (as they did in denying Ukrainians an identity separate from Russians) or split them (as in opposing L. Klimovich, Islam v tsarskoi Rossii (Moscow, 1936), 263-64. GD III, sess. 3, mtg. 57 (Feb. zo, 1910), col. 1920. 95 See the exchange of opinions among Enikeev, Purishkevich, and Maksudov ibid., sess. z, mtg. ro3 (Apr. z8, 1909), cols. 251-56; and Maksudov in sess. 4, mtg. 16 (Nov. ro, 19ro), cols. 1077-84. 93 94

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notions ofTurkic unity) depended on which strategy best suited their political objectives. Earlier we saw that some of Russia's foremost experts on Islam and policymakers on nationality questions-including Il'minskii, Pobedonostsev, V. D. Smirnov, and Bobrovnikov-had been opposed to permitting secular education to Muslims in Russia under the r87o school law. Imbued with an orientalist worldview, they believed that Islam and Western-style education were mutually exclusive: Muslims could never achieve true enlightenment, or even desire it. Only for the sake of an ulterior motive would they want to acquire the trappings of European culture: to arm themselves to undermine the Christian world, to which they were inevitably hostile. It was therefore not only useless for Russians to offer secular education to Muslims, these men thought, but dangerous. This is how Il'minskii explained the increasing number ofTatars and other Muslims attending Russian and European schools and universities in the late nineteenth century, and why he had predicted that the new-method Muslim schools would be more dangerous than the old ones. Though on this point he had had few listeners before his death, by 1910 many Russian statesmen were speaking of him as a prophet.96 That the participants in Kharuzin's meeting on Islam may really have believed they were reacting to objective phenomena, not to subjective impressions and traditions, gives credence to Edward Said's description of orientalist thinking as "a repeatedly produced copy of itself," embodying Nietzsche's dictum that "truths are illusions about which one has forgotten that this is what they are."97 Each observation about the Tatars was accompanied by the revelation of a mysterious underside. When it was remarked that the Volga Tatars had remained peaceful and loyal throughout the 1905 Revolution, Kharuzin replied that the Tatars' loyalty was "a purely formal loyalty"; in fact, the Tatars were now unifying and preparing themselves for an all-out assault on Russian rule.98 The underside was never quite visible or identifiable, but the participants knew it was there. Its invisibility was even proof of its presence. "It would be difficult to deny the existence of agitation in Kazan province directed toward converting to Islam those who are weak and unstable in the Orthodox faith, but the matter of recruitment is organized in such a skillful way that none of the investigations undertaken by the provincial administration has been successful, and no guilty parties in Muslim recruitment have been identified."99 The few participants who saw Islamic reform and secularization as a positive phenomenon saw it as insignificant. The majority, impressed and even intimidated by its success, denied its benefits, as if anything the Tatars would undertake on their own, that did not have to be imposed on them against their will, was necesKlimovich, Islam, 222. Edward Said, Orienta/ism (New York, 1978), 197, 203-4. 98 "Zhumal," 112-14; RGIA, f. 8oo, op. 8, d. 8o1, I. 67. 99 RGIA, f. 8oo, op. 8, d. 8oo, I. 6. See also ll. 319ob.-20. 96 97

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sarily a cause for suspicion. Describing orientalism in interwar Europe, Said exposes a tautology that also applies to the Russian experience of the 1910 meeting on Islam: The Islamic Orientalist expressed his ideas in such a way as to emphasize his, as well as putatively the Muslim's, resistance to change, to mutual comprehension between East and West.... Indeed, so fierce was this sense of resistance to change, and so universal were the powers ascribed to it, that in reading the Orientalists one understands that the apocalypse to be feared was not the destruction of Western civilization but rather the destruction of the barriers that kept East and West from each other."lOO

This is hardly to say that tsarist Russia was a wholly Saidean world in this regard. I have been arguing that Russians were torn between this "orientalizing" vision on the one hand and a determination to bridge the apparent divide between East and West on the other. Only late in the tsarist period did the former take over decisively at the state level. The I 870 regulations (though they had ultimately proved unpopular and abortive) had represented a more flexible way of thinking about Islam, most likely rooted in the Catherinian approach to cultural differences. As noted earlier, they also represented the MNP's interest in the English approach to the schooling of Muslims in India, and were implemented chiefly by the German Turkologist Radlov in the face of considerable resistance. Soon after the 1910 commission issued its recommendations, one of Radlov's former students, the St. Petersburg University orientalist Vladimir V. Bartol'd, was asked to edit a new journal tided Mir Islama (The World of Islam). The journal, one of the commission's recommended measures, was to be published by the Imperial Oriental Society and subsidized by the state. At the outset, Bartol'd set forth a list of principles governing the publication. In addition to asserting the journal's duty only to scholarship (not to politics) and its unwillingness to publish articles representing either missionary polemics against Islam or Muslims' defense of the religion, Bartol' d made the following theoretical statement: "The journal views Muslim culture as a complex historical phenomenon, not to be explained exclusively by the influence of religious dogmas and instructions, and will attempt to elucidate all the cultural influences and political, economic, and other causes by which, irrespective of the abstract ideal constructed by the religion, the actual life of Muslim peoples has been determined and is determined."lOl After a year of sparring with the Oriental Society over the journal's content, Bartol'd was ousted; his approach was deemed too scholarly and too historical. He was replaced by a military specialist on Japan from the Oriental Society who quickly "reorgaSaid, Orienta/ism, 263. ARAN (Spb), f. 68, op. 1, d. 430, II. 178-79. See also "Ot redaktsii [zhurnala Mir Islama]," in V. V. Bartol'd, Sochineniia (Moscow, 1966), 6:365-76. 100 101

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nized" The World of Islam and brought it into line with the government's expectations.I02

The Missionaries Respond: The East as Mirror In his Duma speech of March I3, I9I2, SadriMaksudov compared the resolutions of the Kazan Missionary Congress of June I9IO with those of the Stolypin meeting. The sets of recommendations were eerily similar. The two gatherings had taken place within six months of each other and involved some of the same church personalities; both, in Maksudov's opinion, represented a single, unified reaction to developments in the Muslim world. They were a return to the era of Il'minskii and Pobedonostsev, in which the state's policy toward Muslims was inspired principally by missionaries. Bishop Aleksii of Kazan, he charged, was the real force behind the .I 9 I o MVD meeting: the bishop and his colleagues had taken advantage of Stolypin's weakness for exploiting nationality politics to gain political popularity. !OJ A thorough look at the missionary congress and its origins, however, suggests a different interpretation that is not accessible from its written recommendations alone. Church elites viewed the April I 7 toleration law as a rash concession to dissident forces and an unmitigated disaster with regard to Islam and other minority religions. Bishop Andrei (Ukhtomskii) of Kazan, for instance, said he supported freedom of conscience in principle, but warned that "much may be said about the untimeliness of this particular law on freedom of conscience from the state's point of view.... For a healthy man fresh air is good; it strengthens him. For a sick man the same air may be the source of an even worse sickness."I04 Toleration (even if unintentionally) had given the Tatars new confidence in their relations with Russians; what good was it that more Tatars could speak Russian, then, if they used it to denounce Russia in the Duma and in the press? The increasing ability of elite Tatars to win influence in the Russian government and society was also building up the respectability of Islam. When Malov heard of plans to build St. Petersburg's first mosque with private Tatar money and a small grant from the tsar, he lamented: "All of this, together with freedom of confession, will convince the TatarMuhammadans even more that the Russian emperor secretly keeps the Muhammadan faith."I05 On the basis of the increase in conversions to Islam, church leaders and missionaries such as Bishop Andrei and E. A. Malov were sure that Muslims 102 See ARAN (Spb), f. 68, op. 1, d. 430,11. 30o-3o3; RGIA, f. 821, op. 133, d. 450; and N. N. Tumanovich, Opisanie arkhiva akademika V. V. Bartol'da (Moscow, 1976), 346-48. 10 3 GD III, sess. 5, mtg. 93 (Mar. q, 1912), cols. 982-90. 104 Ep. Andrei, 0 merakh k okhraneniiu kazanskogo kraia ot postepennogo zavoevaniia ego tatarami (Kazan, 1908), 6. 105 BLKU, f. 7, d. 9, 11. wb.-3. On the mosque, see RGIA, f. 821, op. 8, d. 717.

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were using newly acquired rights to step up illegal religious propaganda among the Baptized Tatars. They feared that this influence might already be spreading to the Chuvash and the Finnic inorodtsy of the region, through the new Tatar social, economic, and educational organizations that had emerged in the region's urban centers. Tatars were also said to dominate the cultural life of all the other Muslim peoples in the Russian empire by means of a missionizing clergy, a large network of schools, and control of the Orenburg muftiate. In 1909, the newsletter of the St. Gurii Brotherhood declared that "mosques are proliferating like poisonous mushrooms" all over the region. In just four months, fifty new ones had sprung up in Kazan, Ufa, and Orenburg provinces. The effect of the April 17 edict, it exclaimed, "is a lot like giving children the freedom to drown in wells."l06 In the southern and eastern parts of the empire, Bishop Andrei lamented, a flood of conversions away from Orthodoxy was evidence of "a horrible sickness of the Russian national spirit."107 In Central Asia, hope of making the Kirgiz (Kazakhs) into Christians declined, as "with each year [they] are more and more definitively leaning toward the Muhammadan Tatars." On occasion, even Russians themselves were defecting to Islam) OS The eventual result, many feared, would be such a vast increase in Russia's Muslim population that the empire might cease to be predominantly Christian. Ecclesiastical perspectives on the Muslim presence in early twentiethcentury Kazan cannot be understood without discussion of a broader phenomenon, the movement throughout Russia for structural reforms in the Orthodox Church. The movement reflected the mutual involvement of church and society in discussions of social and moral crisis. Lay spokespeople expressed increasing concern about church life, as exemplified by the ReligiousPhilosophical Meetings held in St. Petersburg between 1901 and 1903.109 Clergy likewise were asserting their right to be involved in the resolution of social problems. Advocates of church "renewal" or "renovation" (obnovlenie) felt that Orthodox religious life in Russia was straitjacketed by bureaucratic formalism, public apathy, and the clergy's poverty and low morale; the church, therefore, was unable to ameliorate the moral condition of the people. To recapture the old Orthodox ideal of communalism (sobornost'), they demanded reforms ranging from the provision of regular salaries to priests and the incorporation of the parish as a legal entity (with the right to own property, collect taxes, and so on) to the reestablishment of the church patriarchate (which had been abolished by Peter the Great and replaced by the synod ober-prokuror) and the Ne-missioner, "Postroika tserkvei i mechetei," in 0 prosveshchenii, 172-74. I07Ep. Andrei, "Vozmozhny li dal'neishie otpadeniia inorodtsev ot Tserkvi?" in 0 prosveshchenii, 266-67. JOSVoskresenskii, "Predislovie," xv; Ia. Koblov, "Otpadenie v magometanstvo," in 0 prosveshchenii, 269-72. 109 Jutta Scherrer, Die Petersburger Religiiis-Philosophischen Vereinigungen: Die Entwicklung des religiiisen Selbstverstiindnisses ihrer lntelligencija-Mitglieder (1901-1917) (Berlin, 1973). 106

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An Orthodox procession at the Kazanka River, early twentieth century. (By permission Central Museum ofTatarstan.)

calling of a church council to discuss ecclesiastical reform (no council had been held since the seventeenth century). In the course of 1905 and afterward, a wide cross section of both white and black clergy, as well as lay academy faculty, rallied around such demands. ItO From the outset of the renovationist movement, the Kazan Theological Academy was one of its leading centers, most likely because of the influence of its last nineteenth-century rector, Bishop Antonii (Khrapovitskii). Bishop Andrei, a participant in the movement, once remarked, "One could say that the Moscow Academy from 1891 to 1895 and the Kazan Academy from 1895 to 1900 were raised on the idea of [restoring] the patriarchate and church council [patriarshestvo i Sobornostl" 111 In December 1905, the academy began 110 See Gerhard Simon, "Church, State and Society," in Russia Enters the Twentieth Century, r 894-r 9 r7, ed. George Katkov, Erwin Oberlander, Nikolaus Poppe, and Georg von Rauch (London, 1971), 199- 235; JohnS. Curtiss, Church and State in Russia: The Last Years of the Empire, rgoo- 19T7 (New York, 1940), chap. s; John Meyendorff, "Russian Bishops and Church Reform in 1905," and Paul Valliere, "The Idea of a Council in Russian Orthodoxy in 1905," both in Russian 01"thodoxy undn· the Old Regime, ed. Robert L. Nichols and Theofanis G . Stavrou (Minneapolis, 1978), 170-82 and 183- 201; and N. S. Gordienko and P. K. Kurochkin, "Liberal'no-obnovlencheskoe dvizhenie v russkom pravoslavie nachala XX v.," Vop1·osy nauchnogo ateizma 7 (1969): 313-4°· 111 Andrei, "Kratkoe zhizneopisanie," in M. L. Zelenogorskii, Zhizn' i deiatel'nost' arkhiepiskopa Andreia (kniazia Ukhtomskogo) (Moscow, 1991), 178.

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publishing one of the most outspoken organs of the renovation movement, the weekly Tserkovno-obshchestvennaia zhizn' (Church-Social Life). Almost immediately, however, the academy's present directors became uncomfortable with the newspaper's strong critical remarks about the church's leadership, and in February r9o6 they voted to end the academy's official sponsorship of the publication. The newspaper continued independently until late r9o7, when the government shut it down altogether.112 Church-Social Lift embraced various liberal positions, such as opposition to the death penalty and to the dissolution of the First Duma. But above all, it was devoted to the democratization and localization of church governance and the church's greater autonomy. Though such demands were alien to the centralizing ways of the Russian government, it must be remembered that a prominent exception for the past forty years had been the schools and parishes for inorodtsy in the Middle Volga-Il'minskii's missionary institutions. The participation of numerous Kazan and regional clergy in these schools and parishes had accustomed them to considerable freedom. Mikhail Mashanov, one of the newspaper's three editors, was in fact a leader of the St. Gurii Brotherhood. Now, with numerous threats to the continued existence of these relatively autonomous institutions, these clergy became increasingly aware of what was at stake, and sought to establish the principle of local autonomy in other realms of church life. Mashanov was the editor responsible for "questions about the inorodtsy." Discussions of these matters and of Orthodox Church renewal often overlapped. One article, for instance, made the argument that priests in parishes in which there were Baptized Tatars would never succeed in fending off Muslim propaganda without reforms that would make life easier for Orthodox clergy in general. Lamentable material conditions and the lack of parish organization made priests feel alienated, neglected, and helpless.113 Perhaps using such articles as food for thought, one of the newspaper's readers, Bishop Andrei, began to relate Russian church affairs more directly to the Muslim question by comparing Muslim and Orthodox religious life,114 In a r 909 booklet, Wretched Times for Orthodoxy among the Volga Inorodtsy, the bishop marveled at the resilience of the Muslim religious community and its ability to resist Russification. He described the Muslims as "one solid religious mass, animated to the point of fanaticism; they are all missionaries, and their means of propaganda are infinitely varied and clever." A Tatar cab driver, sitting on his coach box and driving where Tatars are prohibited, talks to inorodt~y about Islam, about Muhammad. A Tatar trader of fine texCurtiss, Church and State, 197-98; NART, f. ro, op. r, d. ro643, II. 8-2 3ob. "Kreshcheno-tatarskie prikhody s otstupnicheskim naseleniem," TsOZh (r9o6), cols. 914-16. 11 4 Andrei's views on the shortcomings of Russian Orthodox parish life eventually led to his defection to Old Belief in r 92 5. A recent biography describes Andrei's role in the renovation movement before 1917, but says little about the relevance of his work among the Volga-Ural Muslims to his critique of the church. Zelenogorskii, Zhizn', rr-37, esp. 34-35· 112 113

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tiles carries underneath his wares Muslim religious books and petitions (printed ones!) to the governor for defection from Orthodoxy; a Tatar innkeeper canalways speak eloquently about faith and always knows what to say and to whom.... See what the religious community [obshchina] does, see how it enlivens, organizes, and disciplines a collective that wants to be strong. Then, almost inevitably, came the damning comparison: "And the Russians? ... They are a troublemaking, shouting, muddleheaded throng, guided by no one and animated by nothing. And the community, the Russian Orthodox parish? It is shameful to speak of! The very leaders of church life in Russia are working against the development of parish life, as if it's something to be afraid ofl"115 How could Muslim influence among the small peoples of the Volga be counteracted, Andrei asked, "when almost every Muslim laborer burns with religious energy and, wherever possible, acts as a religious-political propagandist, and when among Russian activists there is absolutely nothing like this?"116 Not through the appointment of more missionaries to preach the teachings of Orthodoxy, but through a "revival of parish life," the establishment of "parish mutual aid" and "parish organizations" to show these teachings in action. Stronger parishes would make Russians more loyal to their religion and more enthusiastic about spreading it to outsiders-in short, more like Muslims.117 Wtth increasing frequency after 1905, Kazan church figures contrasted Muslims' religious fervor to Russians' indifference. They did not cease to demonize the Muslims, and in many cases remained unaware of the double standard they applied to Christians and Muslims.llS Increasingly, however, their scorn toward the Muslims was mixed with conscious envy. The religious "fanaticism" that they had deplored as an obstacle to the Tatars' assimilation of Russian culture they now often spoke of as a virtue. Direct rhetorical juxtapositions and analogies between Muslim and Christian culture-one church commentator remarked that "the entire mass of the Muhammadan population is like a very strong Jesuitical order, prepared to propagandize selflessly the teaching of the Koran, stopping at no obstacle"ll9_suggest that Muslim "fanaticism" was no longer seen as evidence of the cosmic antithesis of Chris115 Ep. Andrei, Likholet'e v zhizni pravoslaviia sredi privolzhskikh inorodtsev (Kazan, 1909), 40-41. The book was originally a series of articles published in Sanktpeterburgskie vedomosti in May 1909. 116 Idem, 0 merakh, 2. 117 Idem, Likholet'e, 21-2 3· See also Andrei's statements on the need for church and parish "renewal" in his various articles from Sotrudnik Bratstva Sv. Guriia, in 0 prosveshchenii, 59, 97-99, 321-24, 716--18. 118 One of Koblov's damning statements on Islam, for instance, could very easily have applied to the Orthodox Church: "To fulfill the dictates of his religion a Muslim must approach all foreign, hostile elements represented by people and tribes of other faiths either by joining them to himself, under the condition of their conversion to Islam, or if this fails, by treating them as badly as possible, as enemies": Ia. D. Koblov, 0 tatarizatsii inorodtsev Privolzhskogo kraia (Kazan, 1910), 5· 119 T. Ivanitskii, "Chern ob"iasniaetsia aktivnoe, khotia i ne ravnomemoe, po raznym eparkhiiam, nastuplenie inoveriia na pravoslavie," in 0 prosveshchenii, 143.

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tianity and Islam, West and East, but rather was proof that Muslim and Christian religiosity might actually share some ideals and thus be appreciated in the same terms. In effect, Russians in Kazan were viewing Islam in terms more sociological or anthropological than moral and theological. Most likely, they would have appreciated how the ethnographer Ivan N. Smirnov's idea of inevitable cultural assimilation applied similarly to Tatarization and Russification.120 Glimmers of this attitude may have been present earlier, but now in a time of crisis, when the need for solutions was urgent, some Russians in Kazan became more conscious of their admiration of certain aspects of Tatar society.121 Thus the movement for church reform enabled Russians to formulate new views of Tatars and Islam; conversely, the "Muslim question" made the church reform movement especially compelling in Kazan. The use of the Tatars as a mirror for Russians' shortcomings, however, was rooted primarily in local experience, and therefore was not easily understood by Russians in the capitals. Kazan, 1910: The Missionary Congress At the Kiev missionary conference in 1908 (which focused on "internal" missions, or those against Christian sectarianism and Old Belief), plans were made to hold conferences on the church's "external" missions (those to the non-Orthodox) in Kazan and Irkutsk in the spring and summer of 1909. Both conferences were to bring together personnel from various parts of the empire. To Kazan the synod would invite missionaries from twenty-three dioceses in the center and south of the empire, including the Caucasus, Turkestan, and parts of Siberia (whereas the Irkutsk conference would cover all of Siberia, the Far East, and the foreign missions in Korea, China, and Japan). Orientalists, academy professors, government administrators, missionaries in training, and members of the Orthodox Missionary Society would also be invited. The program would include discussion of all eastern inorodtsy, Christian and non-Christian, and the factors working for and against conversions to Orthodoxy among all groups.122 As Moscow's Tserkovnye vedomosti expressed it, the conference was needed because missionaries "are bearing the brunt of the present transitional period and are demanding that new measures and tools be devised to improve their pastoral and educational work among Christian inorodtsy and the many millions of non-Christians surroundKoblov, 0 tatarizatsii, 3-4. Note also the publication (for the first time) in 1904 ofll'minskii's early essay "Ex oriente lux." The essay, discussed in Chapter 4, expressed great admiration for the informality and flexibility of Muslim confessional schools, subtly twisting stereotypes of the Oriental world as disorganized and chaotic. 122 RGIA, f. 821, op. 8, d. 8o1, II. 61, 63. 120 121

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ing them." And this external mission, the newspaper said, was "even weaker and more disorganized" than the internal mission.123 Archbishop Nikanor (Kamenskii) of Kazan was to preside over the Kazan conference, assisted by Bishop Andrei, the diocese's vicar for missionary affairs. In December 1908 Nikanor submitted material to the Holy Synod about the content of the conference. To the topics agreed upon at Kiev (missions against Islam and Buddhism) he added three more at the very top of the agenda: Christian apologetics, the Schism (raskol), and Christian sectarianism. The first, which he defined as "the defense of Christianity and upholding of Orthodoxy," would include questions on parish organization, the participation of Russian educated society and intelligentsia in church life, and "collectivity [sobornost1 as the basis of Orthodoxy." Furthermore, Nikanor indicated that he wished the conference to include personnel only from the region, not the empire as a whole.l24 The synod, finding this information inconsistent with its own goals, ordered Nikanor to halt the distribution of this program and sent its missionary specialist, Vladimir M. Skvortsov, to Kazan to meet with the archbishop. "Upon my arrival in Kazan to discuss this matter," Skvortsov later reported, I became convinced through conversations with local hierarchs, clergy, professors, and administrative officials that few are informed about or interested in the organization of the missionary conference. No preparatory committee had been organized, there hadn't even been one general meeting of missionary personnel and others concerned with the conference. The program presented by the archbishop had been the fruit either of his own labors or of a circle with whom he had direct discussions on the subject."125

At a meeting called by Skvortsov, all the Kazan people, including Nikanor and Mashanov, agreed that the section on Christian apologetics and Orthodox renewal should remain at the head of the program. The reason they gave was that the Russian camp must be cleansed of elements acting against missionary efforts by undermining the confidence of the Orthodox in the superiority of their faith: "First and foremost, the mission must concern itself with the moral level of the Russians themselves who live among Muslims." Skvortsov disagreed, suggesting that the general issues in Orthodoxy be included in the session on non-Russian parishes. He warned that using these issues (which had already been discussed at Kiev) as the foundation of the conference could turn it into "a boundless, amorphous conference on religion" and could "relegate its chief, technical missionary concerns to second place." Nikanor retorted that the issues of apologetics were bound to have a different flavor in the Kazan context, and the meeting overrode Skvortsov's opinion.l26 123 Quoted in Kazanskii missionerskii s"ezd, 1:13-14124 RGIA, f. 796, op. 190, d. 99a, II. 6-8, 22-23. 125 126

Ibid., I. 34· 1bid., ll. 22-23, 340b-35·

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The Kazan contingent also suggested that they avoid the word "missionary" and speak instead of "a conference of personnel in the Christian education of non-Russians." They warned, "A conference of missionaries not masked by some other name could provoke unrest and upset the present peaceful and neighborly relations between Orthodox and Muslims of the Volga region. Therefore it is better not to use the word 'mission,' 'struggle,' or 'anti-' [Islamic], since the inorodtsy have come to interpret missions as violence, forced baptisms, and so forth." Lay school personnel, they added, would be uncomfortable about attending a "missionary" conference. Skvortsov, objecting, warned that any other name would be seen as hypocritical and would only justifY the distrust of Russians on the part of many inorodtsy. Since the impetus for holding the conference was non-Christians' hostile actions against Christians, the "reigning" church must engage in open and direct action ("consistent, of co~rse, with Christian tolerance") to "show the zeal and power of Orthodoxy." On this issue Skvortsov prevailed.127 The conference was set for April 2 3 to May 6, 1909. It would address not only the religious questions of the missions but also questions about Russian culture. Members of the preparatory commission (headed by Andrei and including Malov, Mashanov, the Turkologist Nikolai F. Katanov, several priests, and a merchant philanthropist) agreed to collect statistical and ethnographic information from governors and other officials. Interested laypeople, as well as the press, would be admitted to the conference.128 By February, however, Skvortsov decided that it would be impossible to hold the conference in the spring. Disagreements remained between the synod and the diocese, and the Kazan city duma had even refused to offer housing to participants if the conference were to bear the label "missionary." Nikanor was still complaining about the sessions on anti-Islamic and antiBuddhism missions, supposedly because they would be "interesting to few people." According to Skvortsov, the archbishop still believed that "what is needed is the renewal of all of Russian society [chtoby vse russkoe obshchestvo obnovilosj"; in other words, the "raising of the intellectual and moral level of the Christian population." Skvortsov told the synod, "The opinions of bishop Nikanor and Professors Mashanov and Smirnov are in essence a rejection of a special [external] mission. And it is clear that for this special, technical aspect of the external mission, the Kazan conference, given such an attitude toward its purposes, might be fruitless and pointless."129 The date for the conference, still called the Kazan Missionary Conference, was changed to June 13-26, 1910. The anti-Islamic section was renamed "the Christian education of inorodtsy"; the other two sections were "the defense of Christianity and upholding of Orthodoxy" and "the anti-Buddhism mission." The synod withdrew its intention to invite personnel from the Ministries of Ibid. I. 35ob. Ibid., II. 36ob.-3 7. 129 Ibid., 11. 38-39ob. 127

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Education and the Interior.BO In any event, the Ministry of Education was probably too discouraged by recent events to discuss missionary schools, and the Ministry of the Interior had already begun to take separate action on the issue oflslam in the region. Its postponement notwithstanding, opposition to the missionary conference in Kazan persisted, even in unexpected quarters. Bishop Andrei, the diocesan coordinator of missions, had earlier claimed credit for the idea of the conference and had lobbied enthusiastically for its approval. Opposed to legal prohibitions on Islam on the grounds that they would be ineffectual, Andrei favored competing with the Muslims by means of Orthodox propaganda and education. He claimed to be unafraid of confrontation, and had expressed great joy in 1908 when the St. Gurii Brotherhood was given a large plot of land "near the most fanatical Tatars" for the construction of a Kriashen convent.Bl By early 1910, however, Andrei was apprehensive about the approaching congress and wrote to Kharuzin suggesting at least its further postponement if not outright cancellation. In this confidential letter, Andrei argued that there remained no significant questions for the conference that had not already been decided. He feared the "quickly flammable" nature of the Tatar masses and the Orthodox Church's tendency to expose its own weaknesses to opponents. "An enormous and noisy conference in Kazan," he said, "will upset the Muslims greatly." True, Tatar agitation is not such an important circumstance that the missionary fathers should forget about their service to the Church, but when zeal is too manifest, excessive, and not in the interest of the cause, when Tatar agitation might damage the success of the mission itself, then we have to think carefully about what is to be done .... The newspapers, meanwhile, are already reporting on the organization of Tatar petitions to the government for permission to hold a Conference of Muslim Clergy.

Andrei suggested postponing the conference under the pretext that some participants needed more time to absorb the voluminous preparatory materials for both the Kazan and Irkutsk conferences. In the meantime, each diocese could be invited to call its own conference. These conferences, and the Kazan conference whenever it was held, should not be open to the public or the press, Andrei insisted, but be "absolutely closed."132 In spite of Andrei's pleas, the congress took place in June 1910, as planned)B Thirteen days long, it consisted of eight plenary sessions and Ibid., 11. 5o-52 , 67. Ibid., f. 1569, op. I, d. 32, ll. 5-8. 132 Ibid., f. 821, op. 8, d. 8o1, I. 74-74ob.; ellipsis in original. 13l RGIA has Kharuzin's draft of a note to the synod calling for the postponement of the conference, but I have seen no evidence of a response to it, or of Kharuzin's having sent it (ibid., ll. 75-77). For a summary of the conference's proceedings, see Frank T. McCarthy, "The Kazan Missionary Congress," CMRS 14 (1973): 308-32. 130 131

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thirty-five separate meetings of nine divisions: missions among Muslims (plus subdivisions on the Muslim press and on Muslims in Turkestan and the Kazakh steppe); missions to Buddhists, missions to animists; missions in the Caucasus; schools and translations; church administration; and "churchmissionary" issues.I34 Most of the I I 5 official participants were sent by their dioceses. Others were active members of church brotherhoods or lay individuals "in sympathy" with Orthodox missions.l35 The congress was pervaded by a pessimistic, occasionally even apocalyptic mood regarding the poor condition of Russian missions in the East and the large number of defections from the church since I905. Nikolai Ostroumov was particularly upset by the state of affairs in Central Asia. Speaking of illegal marriages between Russians and Muslims and Muslim denunciations of Russians in the newspapers, he lamented, "I am sorry to say, sometimes I wonder with pain in my soul whether we are going to live to see the fall of the Russian Empire."l36 A few delegates' calls for an assertive, active approach to non-Christian peoples contrasted starkly with the majority's more reformist, introspective, and even self-deprecating attitudes. At the opening session (the only one to which the press was invited), Bishop Andrei declared, "We have no secrets or ulterior motives. We are bringing peace to people, we are concerned with increasing God's love on the sinful earth." Yet his definition of missions was exceedingly vague. The main work of missionaries, he said, was to teach the Orthodox themselves the meaning of their religion; to this end they needed to achieve "the organization of parish life so that it can preserve itself and exist without outside help." He mentioned the weaknesses of polemical missionizing, and contrasted its use of "words" to "the expression of love" that he felt was more necessary in missionary work. Skvortsov's approach was quite different from Andrei's. Describing the congress as "the inspection of a spiritual army before a battle," Skvortsov urged his assembled colleagues to "sharpen our spiritual sword" against the "godlessness" unleashed by the decrees of April I7 and October I7, I9o5.B 7 Spurred by the sense of crisis, the congress was eclectic in its recommendations for measures to improve the missions. The delegates overwhelmingly praised and supported the Il'minskii schools, although opinions differed as to the relative significance of native and Russian languages in them. Most also advocated a return to direct missions among Muslims, however, and to the extensive involvement of the church and its ethnically Russian clergy. Many 134 Kazanskii missionerskii s"ezd, 1:40, 3:148. The official document presented by Serafim has no provision for a Caucasian section, yet separate section meetings were held for this area. McCarthy's report of seven sections ("Kazan," 318) conflates the separate "church-administrative" and "church-missionary" sections, which admittedly covered overlapping issues. 135 The congress's organizers reported at the end of the proceedings that 140 persons had participated, but Serafim's account claims that "nearly two hundred" came to Kazan for the event. Kazanskii missionerskii s"ezd, 3:148-49; 1:17. 1361bid., 2:14-15· 137 Ibid., 1:28, 32-33. See also 1:222, 228, and 2:9-10, 182.

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missionaries expressed a desire for training in polemical methods, and Malov was asked to head a special committee to compile materials for this purpose.J38 The establishment of a missionary council in the synod was recommended, along with the appointment of a traveling missionary by each diocese. At Koblov's suggestion, the section on translations passed a resolution in favor of publishing polemical Christian books in Arabic script for proselytizing Muslims. Skvortsov defended missionaries' occasional reliance on the police when others criticized their activities.139 But the congress was also abuzz with ideas for Orthodox Church renewal and Russian social reform as alternatives, or at least prerequisites, to missionary work. Several delegates declared that the condition most lacking for the Christianization of non-Russians in their parishes was the discipline and morality of the Orthodox Russians there; one said that the main issue for the mission was the battle against drunkenness. Others said that Russians' scorn and condescension toward ethnic minorities were the causes of apostasy, and that the April I 7 manifesto had only provided the immediate stimulus. Koblov argued that Russians' weakness in spreading their religion (compared with the Tatars' strength) was due to the intelligentsia's cosmopolitanism and the Russian masses' indifference toward the beliefs and customs of neighboring peoples, as reflected in the low level of charitable contributions to the missions_l40 A bishop from Saratov made an unscheduled presentation on a new problem for the missions. Neo-paganism among the Russian literary intelligentsia-Tolstoy, Merezhkovskii, Gorky, Andreev, Rozanov, and otherswas evidence of a need for greater "church discipline," he claimed, and a major reason for the failure of the church's missions to non-Christians_l41 The missionaries also showed a willingness to interpret Orthodoxy more flexibly in order to attract more converts. In the section on animist religions, a majority agreed that the church, instead of endeavoring to stamp out all pagan rites, could make use of some by transforming them gradually into Christian ones. In another section, a slim majority voted after lively debate to sanction missionaries' use of portable, collapsible churches without iconostases (the losing side, which included Skvortsov, insisted on an iconostasis consisting of at least a linen sheet). A proposal to involve more women in missions (and to invite women delegates to the next congress) received considerable support, though it was ultimately defeated.142 Most striking, several of the missionaries held up the Muslims as a model for Orthodox religious organization. In the section of the congress on mis1l8Jbid., 2:238-42, 257-62. Resolutions were even made to teach the rudiments of polemicizing against Islam to children in Russian schools (see ibid., 79-80). Bishop Andrei, however, argued that polemics were powerless to counteract the negative impressions caused by the lack of "church discipline" in Orthodox parishes (ibid., 242). ll 9 Ibid., 2:269-73; 1:154, 212, 219. 140 Jbid., 1:119, 231-32, 241; 2:4o-41, 47· 141 Ibid., 1:2 38; 3:3-2 I. 142 Ibid., 1:26o; 2:4-7.

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sionary work among Muslims, the central event was a long report by Mikhail A. Mashanov. Mashanov's description of the current state of affairs gave short shrift to what he referred to occasionally as the "new" clergy, schools, and interpretations of Islam. Certainly Mashanov was aware of the changes, but he needed the old stereotypes not only to justify the church's aversion to Islam but also to set up to Russians as a stark contrast to their own religious failures. Mashanov at times substituted the word "enthusiasm" for "fanaticism." Moreover, he reinforced one of the self-critical themes of the discussion of Russian neo-paganism: among Tatars the spread of education, he claimed, does not decrease religious enthusiasm "as it unfortunately often does among the Russian intelligentsia"; on the contrary, education even increases Muslims' religious solidarity.143 In his own presentation, Iakov D. Koblov said he admired the "boldness, resourcefulness, and energy" in Tatars' proselytizing of other peoples. "In contrast to the Tatars, the Russians do not try to get close to the inorodtsy. For the most part their attitudes toward them are downright hostile." In this situation, Koblov said, "there can be no talk of assimilation [of the inorodtsy] with the Russians." According to Koblov, Muslims who had attended only primary schools were often more steadfast in their faith than Russians with secondary education; he therefore insisted on referring to Muslims as having "education" (obrazovannost'), not just "literacy" (gramotnost'). Drawing an implicit comparison between Muslim and Orthodox clergy, Koblov said the typical mullah "knows and understands the life of his parishioners very well, because he himself doesn't separate himself from their milieu, lives the same life as they do, and therefore can also lead them wonderfully" by spiritual influence and not by his legal or bureaucratic powers. The key, Koblov said, was that mullahs were chosen by their parishes, whereas Orthodox priests were not.144 Because of the prevalence of this sort of Russian self-criticism in many of the missionaries' presentations, a church newspaper reported at the conclusion of the congress that the central theme of the proceedings had been the missionaries' "confession of the bitter truth that we [Russians] are not cultured."l45 The two 1910 meetings, the Special Meeting on Islam and the Missionary Congress, addressed essentially the same issues at the same time: Russians' failure at the cultural integration of the Tatars, the Muslims' increasing presence and prestige in Russian society as a result of cultural and political reform, and the Russians' loss of the competition to assimilate other peoples of the Volga. Yet the two gatherings reacted to the problem in quite different ways. The MVD approached the situation in a high-handed, confrontational manner. If most of the nineteenth-century theories and programs to make the empire's subjects Russian without the use of force had failed, it must be simply because they had been flawed. Decrees about the relationships between Mashanov, "Sovremennoe sostoianie," PS, February 191 r, 245-46. Kazanskii missione1·skii s"ezd, 1:242-43, 246-48. 145 A. Pankratov, "Spasli Rossiiu," Russkoe slovo, June 24, r9ro, in RGIA, f. 82r, op. 8, d. 8o3. 143

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different peoples of the empire, the ministry felt, were better backed by force than by any other means, be it pedagogical science, religious faith, or ethnographers' uniform laws of cultural change. This is perhaps not surprising behavior for a ministry that generally had been less interested in culture or social relations than in the simple maintenance of order. What is important, however, is, first, that after having stayed out of matters such as education and religion, the ministry decided that these areas now posed a political danger to the empire and stepped in to try to remove that danger; and second, that although Stolypin and Kharuzin included members of the church hierarchy and the MNP in their discussions, the latter made little attempt to defend their more idealistic methods of managing interethnic relations and gave in to the MVD's cynicism. The two Kazan bishops who participated in the St. Petersburg meeting, Andrei and Aleksii, were among the leading figures at the Missionary Congress in June. Despite the efforts of Skvortsov, the tone of that congress was remarkably more humble and self-reflective than it was assertive or aggressive toward the Muslims-so much so that it is surprising that the congress ever took place at all. If the January conference sought to handle the Tatar-Muslim "threat" to Russian culture by holding the Tatars back from cultural change (hypocritically, since so much of Russian discourse on the Tatars had criticized them precisely for a supposed hostility to change), the June missionaries imagined a somewhat new approach-to enable their Orthodox community to improve itself so as to fend off the threat through fair competition. These divergent responses can be explained in part by the difference in clerical culture from that of other state officials. But most important, probably, was that the meetings were held in very different places. From afar, it might be easy for Russians to demonize the Muslims and entertain fantasie.s about asserting state dominance over them. Russians in close proximity to the Tatars were more realistic about the consequences of provoking RussianTatar conflict and at the same time, especially a time of crisis, could look to the Tatars to gain perspective on their own shortcomings. If they saw the Tatars-for so long the detestable "other" to Russians-as enviable and worthy of emulation, could this mean that they saw theit Muslim neighbors as sympathetic, as wrought of the same human material as themselves? Or was this all perhaps just a rhetorical trick, a cynical outburst meant to show Russians what a desperate state they had reached?

9

Nikolai R Katanov: Inorodets in the Russian Academy

Most of this book's discussion of the assimilation of so-called inorodtsy in Russia has shown statesmen, institutions, and ethnographers applying their plans and theories to large groups of people. Indeed, one objective of policy on the inorodets question from the middle of the nineteenth century was to make Russification (however defined) a replicable process, not contingent simply on the haphazard motivation of rare and isolated malcontents or go-getters among the inorodtsy. We have noted that Il'minskii was not interested in improving individuals' choices of life opportunities and experiences; rather, he expected inorodtsy to follow certain prescribed paths in becoming Russian that would maximize the chances of more of their co-ethnics also becoming assimilated. The career of the Kazan University linguist and ethnographer Nikolai F. Katanov illustrates the subtle ways in which the integration of the individual inorodets into Russian public life was constrained. The issue ofKatanov's ambiguous personal identity (vis-a-vis ethno-national categories) allows us, in a sense, to test some of the definitions of Russification that were used in the study and pursuit of assimilation in Kazan. At the same time, however, Katanov's case was anything but typical. The career he pursued as a linguist and ethnographer involved him directly in questions of cultural difference and Russification (of his own native group and others), required him to interact with many of the public figures at the center of this study, and offered him no opportunity to subsume his personal identity into a professional one. We saw previously that amateur ethnographers in eastern Russia were not uncommonly inorodtsy or products of mixed Russian-inorodets families; among them were Grigorii Vereshchagin, Ivan Smirnov, Spiridon Mikhailov, and others. We have also seen that a number of minority figures entered the Russian educated elite by attending institutions of higher education such as Kazan's university and theological academy. Still, a couple of key considera-

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tions separate Katanov's experience from that of many others. First, it was an unstated but widely evident characteristic of Russian identity in the eastern region of the empire that one was considered an inorodets only if both one's parents were inorodtsy. Individuals such as the Kazan University historians Ivan Smirnov and Manasii Shchapov, both of whom had one Russian parent, were for the most part considered Russian.! The fact that Smirnov had a Cheremis father or Shchapov a Buriat mother was seen as little more than a curiosity, not as a determinant of his identity, or even half of his identity (interestingly, there is no evidence that inorodets identity was ever seen as fractional).2 Second, Katanov was no mere amateur researcher but a university professor. This status was far removed from that of minor public officials who also published ethnographic works, such as Mikhailov, Kaium Nasyry, or any others we have seen. Though other inorodtsy had also graduated from Russian universities-Ivan Iakovlev, Dorzhi Banzarov, and Shabkhazgirei Akhmerov-few ever became professors. Those who did were almost never in fields in which their identity might be a relevant issue.3 For these reasons, we approach Katanov not as a case study of the "typical" inorodets trying to make it in the Russian establishment and society. Rather, his is the story of an exceptional individual who juxtaposed in a unique way the two central issues in this book: on one hand, the definition of Russianness and the spread of such identity by various sorts of assimilation, and on the other the issues governing the study and description of cultural difference, and the ways in which such work addressed concerns about national and ethnic prestige. That Katanov was (and remains to this day) a controversial figure in Russian academic history reflects the difficulty of finding simple, straightforward answers to some key questions about him and his career. His indeterminate personal identity made him a target of attack from both extremes of the cultural-political spectrum of tsarist Russia. His essential ambi-. 1 On Shchapov, see Abbott Gleason, Young Russia: The Genesis ofRussian Radicalism in the I 86os (Chicago, 198o), 18o-225. 2 I am not speaking here of legal categories, nor is it really possible to do so. Many of the socalled inorodets peoples-including all those of the Volga region-were never classified legally as inorodtsy. I am concerned mostly with the informal career of this term, which predated its legal creation (1822) and thus designated many more people colloquially than it did formally. The designation "Russian," of course, was never a legal category in the imperial period, so there is no objective way of testing my proposition that only one Russian parent was required for one to be thought of as a Russian. Most likely, though, some role in popular attitudes was played by the fact that offspring of mixed Russian-inorodets marriages were always legally Orthodox. (If one parent was not Christian, conversion to Orthodoxy was required before marriage. If the non-Russian parent was a non-Orthodox Christian, law since the time of Peter I required that children be baptized and raised as Orthodox.) J Perhaps the only exception before Katanov was A. K. Kazembek, an Azeri who converted to Christianity and became a professor of Turkic languages at Kazan and then at St. Petersburg. Kazembek has been referred to as the first European Turkologist of Turkic origin. A. N. Samoilovich, "Professor N. F. Katanov, pervyi uchenyi iz Abakanskikh turkov," Zhizn' Buriatii 6 (1924): 108. The fact that accounts ofKazembek's career do not mention any controversy over his background suggests that the study of the East was significantly less politicized then than it was to become by Katanov's time. Kazembek's son became a professor of medicine at Kazan.

Katanov: Inorodets in the Russian Academy

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I

guity-even perhaps to himself-encapsulates many of the controversies, tensions, and paradoxes in how Russians thought about cultural difference in the tsarist empire. Out of Siberia Born in I 862 in Eastern Siberia near the Chinese border, Katanov was of a Turkic-speaking people called the Abakan or Minusinsk Tatars (now more commonly Khakasses).4This umbrella designation included a number of subgroups; Katanov's father was a member of the tribe known as the Sagai, his mother of the Kash. In the eighteenth century, most members of these tribes had been baptized by Russian missionaries, and by Katanov's day their descendants still considered themselves Orthodox, though they also adhered to some shamanic rites and beliefs. "Following all my tribespeople and my parents," Katanov recalled of his childhood, "I too considered it entirely possible to be a shamanist and a Christian at the same time, thinking that both shamanism and Christianity lead to the same goal. ... Like my parents I listened to the shamans' ceremonies and blindly believed in their prognostications even though I didn't always understand what they sang of in some of their prayers."5 By his late teens, Katanov had lost his belief in shamanism, perhaps under the influence of his older brother, who entered the Orthodox priesthood and became a missionary. Yet he always retained his fundamental respect for traditional religions. Nikolai Katanov spent much of his childhood tending herds of sheep and cattle in the steppe. His family were seasonal nomads who occupied different dwellings in summer and winter. From ages eight to fourteen, he attended a primary school run by his uncle, who was also a notoriously venal and corrupt figure in the local administration (stepnaia duma) of the native peoples as well as a missionary of dubious methods, said to have baptized 3,ooo mountaindwelling Tatars on a single day in I876.6 The same administration also employed Nikolai's father as a minor scribe (ulusnyi pisar'), and provided Nikolai with a job that during his teenage years allowed him to perfect his Russianlanguage skills. 4 The biographical material in this chapter is based largely on S. N. Ivanov, Nikolai Fedorovich Katanov (r862-1922): Ocherk zhizni i deiatel'nosti, zd ed. (Moscow and Leningrad, I973); P. Melioranskii, "Katanov, Nikolai Fedorovich," in Kritiko-biog;raficheskii slovar' russkikh pisatel'ei i uchenykh, ed. S. A. Vengerov, 6:I32-45 (St. Petersburg, I904); I. F. Kokova, N. F. Katanov: Dokumental'no-publitsisticheskoe esse (Abakan, I993); N. Domozhakov, "Nikolai Fedorovich Katanov," and S. E. Malov, "N. F. Katanov, prof. Kazanskogo universiteta (I86z-Igzz gg.)," both in Nikolai Fedorovich Katanov: Materialy i soobshcheniia, ed. N. Domozhakov (Abakan, I 958), 3-32, 33-5 r. Because several of the biographical sources have identical titles, after the first reference I will identify such works only by their authors' names. 5 Quoted in Melioranskii, I 3 3-34. 6 I. Barashkov-Epchelei, "Katanov, N. F.," in Domozhakov, I33-35·

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At the gymnasium in nearby Krasnoiarsk, Katanov studied classical and modern European languages. His family could give him no financial assistance, so he supported himself by giving private lessons. During his last year, inspired by a teacher who belonged to the Eastern Siberian division of the Russian Geographical Society, Katanov began to read ethnographic publications and to collect and analyze the folklore of the Abakan Tatars. Through the Turkologist and missionary V.I. Verbitskii (of the Altai mission), he made contact with Nikolai I. Il'minskii and Vasilii V. Radlov, and began sending his linguistic studies to them and to the Imperial Academy of Sciences. His first article, a description of some implements used in Sagai shamanic rituals, appeared in an 1883 collection published by the geographer Grigorii N. Potanin.7 After Katanov graduated first in his class at the gymnasium, Il'minskii and Radlov assisted him in enrolling in the Department of Oriental Languages at St. Petersburg University. A university student of native Siberian origin was still highly uncommon in the capital, even in the Oriental Languages Department. A fellow student in the program recalled: "His appearance amidst the mass of Russian students was arresting. [He] had a striking figure-short, with an extremely long torso and short bowlegs. What stood out even more sharply was his Mongolian face, with its narrow black eyes, prominent cheekbones, and large whiskers."8 From 1884 to 1888, Katanov studied in the department's Arabic-Persian and Turkic-Tatar divisions. Besides his university mentors-Il'ia N. Berezin, Nikolai I. Veselovskii, and Vasilii D. S):Ilirnov-Katanov received extensive training from Vasilii V. Radlov (especially in Turkic phonetics) and Viktor R. Rozen, both of the Academy of Sciences. He also spent considerable time with the university's large group of Russian students from Siberia and with a handful of prominent Siberian regionalist activists living in the capital. This latter group met at the home of Nikolai M. Iadrintsev, the former political exile and publisher of the liberal weekly Vostochnoe obozrenie (Eastern Review), to which Katanov contributed occasional articles. The circle also included figures such as Potanin, the writer D. N. Mamin-Sibiriak, and the ethnographer D. A. Klements.9 Presumably because of these affiliations, and perhaps also his visibly non-European provenance, Katanov was subject to police surveillance throughout his years in St. Petersburg.lO After he finished his coursework, in 1889 the Imperial Russian Geographic 7 Kokova, I 5. Correspondence regarding Katanov's early scholarly contacts is in ARAN (Spb), f. 2, op. I, I883, d. Io, II. 9-w; and NART, f. 968, op. I, d. 38. s MIKU, f. N. F. Katanova, memoir by N. V. Chekhov, "Studencheskie gody professora N. F. Katanova: Vospominaniia tovarishcha po universitetu," II. I-2. 9 S. E. Malov, 35-36; Barashkov-Epchelei, I 57-58; Ivanov, I8-I9. On the involvement of St. Petersburg University students in the Siberian regionalist movement beginning in the I86os, see Stephen D. Watrous," 'Russia's Land of the Future': Regionalism and the Awakening of Siberia, I819-1894" (Ph.D. diss., University of Washington, 1970). JO Domozhakov, 13-I4.

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Nikolai F. Katanov, professor ofTurkic languages at Kazan University. (Archive of the Russian Academy of Sciences, St. Petersburg division, f. 1079, op. I, d. 337, I. 2 5. Reproduced with permission.) Society, the Academy of Sciences, and the Ministry of Education jointly awarded Katanov a grant to embark on field research in linguistics and ethnography close to his native land. Radlov, who had researched the same region earlier in his career, was his chief sponsor. From 1889 through 1892, Katanov traveled eastern and western Siberia, northern Mongolia and Chinese Turkestan, recording linguistic and ethnographic data, collecting oral folklore, and studying the history and archeology of the region. With a distant relative he employed to take care of the logistics of the journey, he traveled on horses, rafts, boats, and sleighs and sought shelter in Russian trading posts and gold-mining settlements, Cossack villages, and the dwellings of native inhabitants.1 1 In some places Katanov followed in the steps of previous scholars such as M.A. Kastren, K. D. Kavelin, and Radlov, but his greater familiarity with the region resulted in his collecting more extensive data, and he was more attentive to the Muslim peoples of the region than those scholars had been.I2 In many situations Katanov's affinity with the region's peoples alII 12

Barashkov-Epchelei, Samoilovich, I I r.

I 2 s-2 7·

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lowed him access to the most intimate details of local customs. Generally he chose to conceal his scholarly motives, presenting himself (depending on circumstances) "as a translator for the Border Authority, a Tatar scribe, or a merchant from the Abakan River."l3 Still, Katanov often had to present gifts in exchange for information or folklore; in effect, he paid for much of the knowledge he accumulated.I4 The amount he collected was prodigious. In a period of sixteen months, he wrote in one of his reports, he recorded 1 zo fairy tales (skazkt), 90 stories (rasskazy), over sao quatrains (chetverostishiia), 153 songs, more than 6oo proverbs (poslovitsy), 70 legends (poveriia), 38 riddles, over 900 dream interpretations, "and many other materials."15 Some of the materials Katanov sent back to St. Petersburg during his journey reached the public immediately through journals of the Russian Geographical Society, as did a selection of his letters to Radlov published by the Academy of Sciences.I6 Still, Katanov returned with some forty to fifty pounds of unprocessed notes as well as countless coins and tribal artifacts, many of which he donated to museums. He also brought back with him a seventeen-year-old bride, Aleksandra I. Tikhonova. The orphaned daughter of a Russian postal worker who had been adopted by Katanov's uncle, Tikhonova had recently completed gymnasium studies in Minusinsk. In Katanov's home region, such interethnic marriages were not uncommon.17 Awaiting Katanov upon his return to St. Petersburg was a "professorial stipend" (proftssorskii stipendiat) that enabled him to work through the notes from his research and ostensibly prepared him for appointment to a faculty opening in the university's Eastern Languages Department. Before his return, however, the department unexpectedly passed over Katanov to appoint another recent graduate, Platon M. Melioranskii. Ultimately, Katanov was instead offered the much less prestigious position in T urkic-Tatar languages at Kazan University. Correspondence held in MNP archival files suggests that subtle ethnic discrimination was a factor in the redirection of Katanov's career path. Viktor R. Rozen, one ofKatanov's Academy of Sciences mentors, told Minister of Education Ivan D. Delianov that Katanov's "practical knowledge of the languages and ways of life of the groups of Turkic inorodtsy in eastern Russia" was far more extensive than Melioranskii's, and that "the ethnographic materials collected by Katanov represent ... unusual scholarly value, and their gradual publication promises to shed much light on the ethnography of our Turkic in13 RGO, f. I, I888, op. I' d. 20, I. Is- I sob. Katanov remarked that those people who believed him to be a Russian government official were least willing to give him information about themselves because they thought he was part of a tsarist plan to seize jurisdiction over them. 14 0. B. Makarova, "N. F. Katanov-vospitannik Sankt-Peterburgskogo Universiteta," in Domozhakov, 90. 15 Ivanov, 27. 16 Pis'ma iz Sibiri i Vostochnogo Turkestana (= Zapiski Imperatorskogo Akademii Nauk 23 [I893], app.). For a list of other publications from this period, see Domozhakov, I86-9o. 17 Kokova, 33-35; Barashkov-Epchelei, IF-33·

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Professor Nikolai F. Katanov with his wife, Aleksandra I. (Tikhonova) Katanova, and their daughter, AnnaN. Katanova. (By permission Historical Museum of Kazan University.)

orodtsy." Rozen quickly discounted Katanov's achievements, however, by reminding the minister that Katanov was of Turkic background himself, had been fluent in several Turkic languages since childhood, and as an inorodets enjoyed the complete trust of the people whose customs he was researching. Katanov therefore was able "to research all facets of the life of the inorodets population and thus to obtain an enormous amount of data ... unattainable for a person not advantaged by the same circumstances." While recognizing the great value Katanov would have to St. Petersburg University, Rozen did not recommend him for the position because of my deep conviction that as one of the few academically educated Turkic inorodtsy, he would be infinitely more useful serving in one of the centers of the Turkic-blooded inorodets population, in the capacity of a school inspector, or as a teacher of ethnography and Turkic languages at Kazan University, if this chair is to remain in Kazan. Katanov, by his word and example, could invaluably serve the cause of attracting inorodtsy to Russian education. Personally I think it not at all desirable or appropriate to divert a person from a cause that is so important to the state, for which he has absolutely all the necessary qualities, and for which he was seemingly appointed by destiny itself, in

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order to strengthen the teaching of Tatar dialects in the Department of Eastern Languages.

Melioranskii, Rozen said, surpassed Katanov "in his broad knowledge of the texts of the various epochs of Turkic-Tatar literature, and of the European scholarly literature, ... specifically in those areas that are most vital for a teacher ofTurkic philology in the center of Russian scholarly orientalism, i.e., in the Eastern Languages Department."18 Rozen's language suggests that the orientalists were uncomfortable with the prospect of having an inorodets in such a visible position, for all the international scholarly world to see. Katanov was well aware of the nature of the concerns that cost him the position, and grew resentful in the following years. As we saw earlier, Kazan University had left its chair for Turkic studies open for two decades after Il'minskii's departure in 1872. Eventually St. Petersburg put pressure on the university to fill the spot. In 1893 Rozen persuaded the MNP to appoint Katanov to the chair, thus dissuading the ministry from transferring the chair to St. Petersburg.J9 Presented to the university as a fait accompli, the appointment was a sort of consolation prize to Katanov for having lost the post at St. Petersburg University. After passing his master's examinations with flying colors at the end of the year, Katanov relocated to Kazan to take the position. Though Kazan was generally a more hospitable environment for the eastern peoples than St. Petersburg, its Russian academic institutions were by no means entirely comfortable with a native Siberian in a position of prestige. Katanov was to experience numerous frustrations in his career there, which lasted until his death in 1922. Back Eastward: Katanov in Kazan Unlike many ethnographers, teachers, and scholars with origins in the Turkic and Finnic peoples of the Volga (of either "pure" or "mixed" parentage), Katanov was never able to pass as an ethnic Russian. A contemporary noted: "[His] stocky, thickset figure and eastern Siberian inorodets facial type (a big head; narrow, clever, and lively eyes; a wide face with a low forehead and flattened nose) set Nikolai Fedorovich apart from the bulk of the city's residents and thus made him a singular person in Kazan."20 All the same, not everybody knew who Katanov was. Occasionally, when not in his professorial uniform, he was mistaken by Russians for a laborer or servant. Katanov's goodnatured reactions to such incidents became the stuff of local legend. 18 RGIA, f. 733· op. I so, d. 9I8, II. I sz-53· Katanov's daughter implied that Melioranskii was favored for the position because he was a relative of a member of the department, I. N. Berezin. A. N. Katanova, "Iz vospominanii ob otse," in Domozhakov, I74· I have found no other mention of Melioranskii's relation to Berezin. 19 RGIA, f. 733, op. I 5o, d. 973,11. 2-3, 7-9. 20 I. Pokrovskii, "Pamiati professora Nikolaia Fedorovicha Katanova," IOAIE 32 (I922): 246.

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One day Katanov was at Kazan's steamboat docks preparing to embark on a trip when he was approached by another passenger, a highly placed provincial official. "Porter, take these suitcases right away," the official said to him. "Of course, your excellency," replied Katanov before taking the suitcases onto the boat. Handed a ruble-and-a-half tip, Katanov thanked the official, bowed, and walked away. But then, so the story goes, he devised a prank. He arranged to be seated for lunch directly across from the same official. When Katanov sat down, having changed into his uniform complete with medals, the official did a double-take. Flush with embarrassment, he apologized to Katanov for having made him carry his bags, and proceeded to make his acquaintance. Katanov gladly introduced himself, listing his various positions and ranks. Finally the official asked Katanov to return the tip he had given him. "Well, why should I?" joked Katanov. "I earned it through honest work."21 Though able to dismiss lightly the faux pas of a stranger, Katanov could not so easily shrug off the insensitivity and insults of professional colleagues. In his first letter to Radlov from Kazan, he reported, "I couldn't be getting along better with the professors here."22 Yet AnnaN. Katanova recollected being told that when her father arrived in Kazan to take up his post, Kazan University met Nikolai Fedorovich ungraciously [neprivetlivo] .... The Department of History and Philology had among its professors a significant privileged stratum. When a new member-a Khakas "inorodets"-joined their collective, several of the professors said, shrugging their shoulders, "Soon they'll be sending savages [dikart] to us." To break this ice took long years of tireless work, the achievement of scholarly authority, extraordinary patience, unfailing tact and good will. 23

Eventually Katanov gained widespread respect as one of Kazan's most gifted scholars. It was often repeated that he could speak some forty languages and read seventy; some sources claim that in his work he used knowledge of 114 languages and dialects.24 His expertise and university teaching spanned the fields of linguistics (including Persian and Arabic in addition to the Turkic languages), ethnography, philology, history, archeology, and numismatics. His research on the Siberian Turks took him back for long visits to eastern Siberia in 1896 and 1909, and he made several trips to Ufa province to study Tatars and Kriashens. In 1900 and 1914 he made scholarly trips to Western Europe. He was elected to scholarly societies in Belgium, Finland, and Hungary as well as in Russia. Katanov quickly became a leading figure in Kazan University's Society for 21 Barashkov-Epchelei, 165-66. 22 ARAN (Spb), f. 177, op. z, d. 125, 1. 14. 23 Katanova, "Iz vospominanii," 174-75. 24 Domozhakov, 14; N. A. Vasil'ev, "Vospominaniia o professore Nikolae Fedoroviche Katanove," ibid., 103.

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Archeology, History, and Ethnography (OAIE). He had joined the society as a corresponding member (chlen-sotrudnik) in r884 early in his studies at St. Petersburg. In 1894, upon taking up his position in Kazan, he became an active member (deistuitel'nyi chien) and secretary, and in 1898 the society's president, a position he held for the next sixteen years. Katanov performed enormous service to the society as a collector and donor of books, coins, and ethnographic artifacts, as he did for several other libraries and museums in Kazan. According to contemporaries, he was rarely seen without his arms full of books or museum specimens. While serving as director of the Kazan Municipal Museum from 1905 to 1918, he sometimes did even the physical construction of museum exhibits himself. He devoted much of his time and energy to the study and preservation of the ruins at Bolgary. He frequently delivered public lectures in Kazan, and was involved in the opening of museums in the Siberian cities of Minusinsk, Krasnoiarsk, and Tobol'sk.25 The master's dissertation that Kat;mov completed in 1903 for his St. Petersburg degree was an analysis of the little-known and poorly understood Uriankhai language, a language close to his native tongue and now known as Tuvinian. To prove his thesis that the most common dialect of the language was fundamentally Turkic, Katanov compared it in detail with forty-two modem and five ancient Turkic languages. The result was an ambitious r,soo-page study of comparative Turkic linguistics generally, which made him famous even among European orientalists and won him election to several prestigious societies.26Jn 1907 Kazan University's council unanimously awarded Katanov a doctorate honoris causa for all of his work to date, including a large collection of folklore from the Abakan region he published that year.27 Still, Katanov's status at Kazan University never adequately reflected his numerous achievements and contributions to his field. By MNP statute, his faculty position was an "extraordinary" one (ekstraordinarnyi or vneshtatnyt) rather than "regular" or "ordinary" (ordinarnyi, shtatnyt). The distinction was much like that between a long-serving adjunct professor and a tenured one in the modem-day American system. It meant that Katanov had few students, since no one was required to take the courses of irregular faculty, and that he was paid only half-and, after 1906, just a third-the salary of most of his colleagues. This modest pay could not keep pace with the professorial way of life; Katanov's avid book collecting especially led him into chronic debt.28 He 25

Katanova, "Iz vospominanii," I84; K. Kharlampovich, "Prof. N. F. Katanov (nekrolog),"

Kazanskii muzeinyi vestnik I (I922): I87-95; Kokova, 42-43. 26 Opyt issledovaniia uriankbaiskogo iazyka s ukazaniem glavneishikh rodstvennykh otnoshenii ego k drugim iazykam tiurkskogo kornia (Kazan, I903). For a balanced assessment of the work, see

Samoilovich, I I I. 27 RGIA, f. 733, op. I 53, d. 550, II. zSob.-3 I. The collection was part of a series on Turkic folk literature edited by Radlov: Obraztsy narodnoi literatury tiurkskikh plemen, pt. 9, Narechiia uriankhaitsev (soiotov), abakanskikh tatar. Teksty, sobrannye i perevedennye N R Katanovym (St. Petersburg, I907). Katanov had collected much of the material during his youth. 28 Kokova, 73·

Katanov: lnorodets in the Russian Academy

3r 9

petitioned repeatedly for the upgrade of his position, which could be granted only in conjunction with a new MNP statute for all the universities in Russia. The MNP never granted a promotion, and Katanov was never entirely sure whether the university even supported his requests. For most of his career, this marginal status tormented Katanov, who suspected that skeptics or enemies might be thwarting his advancement, as they had done in the past. As a barbed commentary on the university's treatment of him, Katanov once had a set of stationery printed on which he listed all his numerous positions, ranks, and institutional affiliations, down to the seemingly most trivial, omitting, however, his professorial post at Kazan University.29 As late as 1903, before his dissertation defense, Katanov may still have thought his accomplishments would be rewarded by a transfer to St. Petersburg University.JO Such hopes never materialized, however, and he grew angry and impatient with the Petersburg mentors and colleagues who failed to secure his promotion. In a 1904letter to his friend Eduard Pekarskii (a Populist exile to Siberia turned lexicographer of the Iakut language) he wrote, "Radlov has always promised to arrange a better future for me, but has not done it."31 The letter described a recent meeting in Petersburg with Radlov and K. G. Zaleman (another Turkologist at the Academy of Sciences) in which Katanov reproached them for their condescending attitude toward provincial scholars. He accused them of taking advantage of such scholars' research while thwarting their efforts at publication because there was no profit in it for them. "I was personally sent by the Academy of Sciences to various lands of Asia and collected a great deal of material there, but after fifteen years in spite of my constant reminders the Academy has published barely one-sixth of it," Katanov explained. "Will it take them seventy-five years to publish the rest of it?" I spoke at length with the academicians about this, but got nothing from them but criticism for having collected so much. Then I told them that I will no longer publish anything in St. Petersburg. This is why I am pursuing with all my soul various publications on the East.... With every work that I edit and that in some way concerns my beloved homeland, Siberia, I do everything I can to see that it looks as good as possible. So I am working as a counterweight to St. Petersburg, in which I have found no support thanks to the concerted intrigues of certain orientalists who were afraid they would find a competitor in me. 32

Katanov often suspected that his exclusion from the inner circle of his profession was a matter either of his being a provincial or of being an inorodets. He also knew that low regard for the study of Russia's Turkic peoples would An example, dated 1907, is in BLKU, d. 9044. Kokova, 64. l1 ARAN (Spb), f. 202, op. 2, d. 195, 1. 20. 32 Ibid., 11. 2o-22ob. In 1924, A. N. Samoilovich had guessed that there had been a falling out between Katanov and his mentors, but could not explain its origins (Samoilovich, 108). 29

30

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not help the situation, but was likely to make critics exaggerate any dislike of his personality or his views. To those who knew him well, his personal background and identity lent a certain poignancy to his complaints about other Russian academics' ways of approaching the study of non-Russian peoples. He once wrote to Pekarskii, "As president [of OAIE], I have had to struggle fiercely against the received opinion that the inorodtsy are doomed to extinction, and therefore are not worth our efforts."H Even scholars who were supposedly devoted to the study of these peoples, Katanov felt, often approached their subject in a superficial way that prevented true understanding. He took very much to heart, therefore, what others might consider arcane scholarly issues. As early as 1894, as the new secretary of the OAIE, Katanov began to press the society to standardize the transcription of oral Turkic sources in its publications. He claimed that the lack of standardization was a source of great confusion, and recommended his mentor Radlov's "Academy" transcription system, which supplemented the Cyrillic alphabet with various diacritical marks to better represent the sounds of the Turkic languages. The issue was to him a matter not only of accuracy but also of respect for the nonliterate peoples and the uniqueness and inviolability of their languages. In the summer of 1894, Katanov happily reported to Radlov that "on my initiative, the Academy transcription is making its way little by little into the OAIE publications."34 The ethnographic society's members were less amenable to Katanov's insistence on faithfulness to written texts and inscriptions in Turkic languages. Such texts were generally in the Arabic alphabet, which to Russians in Kazan symbolized the Tatars and Islam. Many OAIE members felt that the very appearance of Arabic in their journal would be morally or politically compromising. According to Katanov's letters to Rozen, in 1900 the governing council of OAIE initiated a policy of not printing any such texts in Eastern languages because, in its opinion, "texts are useless." The publications would now print only Russian translations of such texts. Against the policy, Katanov argued unsuccessfully that texts have little meaning to scholarly readers if not left in their original languages. Ivan N. Srnirnov, attempting to bridge the divide between proponents of translations and proponents of original texts, suggested publishing "phonetic" (i.e., Cyrillic) transcriptions of the texts. To Katanov, Smirnov's suggestion was equally unacceptable because one often did not know which dialect (govor), hence pronunciation, was current at the time in question. Unable to persuade the council of the necessity of publishing original texts, Katanov angrily quit the society as both member and president. Shortly afterward, however, a majority of the society's general membership, many of whom were unaware of Katanov's reason for resigning, JJ ARAN (Spb), f. 202, op. 2, d. 195, I. 5· 34 Ibid., f. 177, op. 2, d. 125, II. 14-17ob.

Katanov: Inorodets in the Russian Academy I 32 r reelected him against an alternative candidate fronted by the faction in favor of translations. His opponents quit the council. Eventually Katanov got his way and Arabic print began to appear frequently in the journal.35 To Katanov, the incident epitomized local attitudes. He told Rozen, "The scholars and quasi-scholars here, historians by profession, know nothing about Islam; to save money they don't keep up with foreign and often even Russian literature." They did not know the meaning of Islamic dates or Muhammad's genealogy, or recognize the names of important Muslim figures. "What is fundamental to orientalists is news to them .... It would be good if they at least knew how to find sources of solid knowledge, if they don't have the actual knowledge." Though beginning in the mid-r89os, largely on Katanov's initiative, the society occasionally had speakers present research on Muslim peoples, most members had no interest in publishing these papers. Those who had been opposed to publishing original texts, according to Katanov, "said that instead of oriental texts it would be more useful to publish church deeds [tserkovnye gramoty] showing the wealth of churches and monasteries, which offer greater truth and are more interesting than a lot of oriental squiggles [zakoriuchkz]."36 Katanov felt constrained by the semi-amateur nature of oriental studies in Kazan, and was embarrassed to have colleagues such as Rozen see how inferior the society's publications were to those published in Petersburg. But he also harbored a strong suspicion that the society members making such statements were not even opposed to serious orientalism as much as they resented Katanov himself and sought to thwart his every plan. In r898 Katanov entered into a rancorous dispute with the renowned Russian geographer and naturalist G. E. Grum-Grzhimailo that may have damaged his own professional standing significantly. Under the auspices of the Russian Geographical Society, Grum-Grzhimailo had traveled through the eastern Tian-Shan region and published a volume of impressions. In a review of the work's first volume, Katanov reproached the author for superficial and erroneous descriptions of the local peoples, and for taking on the collection and translation of their folklore without any relevant linguistic knowledge. Grum-Grzhimailo had simply transcribed the folklore phonetically and later had it translated by others, the result being numerous inaccuracies and the addition of literary embellishment. It was typical of Russian travelers, Katanov said, to overestimate their access to other cultures (especially of the "exotic Orient") because of an urge to satisfy the esthetic expectations of a general readership. To correct Grum-Grzhimailo's errors, Katanov retranscribed and retranslated many of the passages in the book, warning that "as long as the study of the ethnography of China is undertaken not by linguists but by naturalists 351bid., d. zoo, 11. 4-7ob.; BLKU, d. 8817,1. wb. 36 BLKU, d. 8817,1. IOb.

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who do not know or do not want to know the language of the people they study, our ethnographic understanding of Asia will advance little."37 In the preface to his second volume, Grum-Grzhimailo, possibly unaware of his reviewer's credentials, responded to the critique with belittling and sarcastic charges about the shortcomings ofKatanov's own research in the area.38 Only on such substantive or methodological scholarly issues, however, did Katanov openly express his dissatisfaction with the Russian academic establishment and its attitudes toward minority peoples in Russia. To most associates, therefore, Katanov probably seemed content with Russia as a society. His more personal sense of victimization as an inorodets in Russia is evident only in the private correspondence with close friends that became available several decades after Katanov's death. Whether such feelings led Katanov to any broad ideological critique of the politics of nationality and ethnicity in Russia is debatable since he was averse to participating in anything he perceived as politically controversial or even to putting labels on his opinions. To make matters even murkier, many of Katanov's activities seem to contradict any notion that he was at heart a dissenter from the political status quo. Closet Rebel or Pillar ofTsarism? It is clear from Katanov's writings and his behavior that in some fundamental ways he did not subscribe to mainstream ways of thinking about cultural differences in Russia. His interest in the minority peoples of the Russian empire and the integrity of their cultures and identities did not depend conditionally on those peoples' religious affiliation or on their tendency to undergo cultural Russification. His respect for them appears to have been absolute; it could accompany Katanov into a mosque, a Buddhist temple, or a grove for sacrifices to nature gods and remain intact, even if these were not Katanov's own places of worship. Katanov was generally an advocate of the cultural assimilation of nonRussian peoples. His concern was not the defense of Russian ethnic pride or prestige, an important motivation of many high imperial officials and elites, but rather the welfare of the inorodtsy themselves. He believed that Russification was in many ways a positive and beneficial process. By all appearances, he was convinced of the supremacy of Christianity as a religion, and saw the Eastern peoples of the tsarist empire as dependent on Russians for access to what he saw as a better existence, in economic and physiological as well as 37 N. F. Katanov, review of Opisanie puteshestviia v Zapadnoi Kitae, t. I. Vdol' Vostochnogo Tian 'shania, by G. E. Grum-Grzhimailo, UZKU 65 (April 18g8), 31. 38 For unexplained reasons, Sergei E. Malov (one of Katanov's advocates) thought it was Grum-Grzhimailo's response, more than the harshness of Katanov's review, that ultimately was most responsible for Katanov's marginalization by orientalists in St. Petersburg (S. E. Malov, 38-39). On Katanov's criticism of a description ofTatars by Aleksandr Kropotkin (brother of the geographer-anarchist) in the popular magazine Zhivopisnaia Rossiia, see Barashkov-Epchelei, I 55.

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32 3

cultural terms. "My whole life," he once said, "is evidence of the influence of Russian culture and the Russian population [in Siberia]."39 Yet like his German mentor V. V. Radlov, Katanov saw Russification less in particularistic national or statist terms than in the universalistic, Enlightenment sense of civilization. Among the peoples of the world, in Katanov's judgment, the Russians held no monopoly on the benefits of development. Nor did he wish to see the peoples of the empire meld into one culturally homogeneous mass, Russian or otherwise. Because he believed in the uniqueness and inviolability of every culture, he thought all were worthy of study and preservation. He acted as a mentor to many ethnographers (Russians and inorodtsy alike), helping them to secure financing to study the cultures of even the least numerous and most obscure of the Siberian peoples, and to interest publishers in their work.40 Katanov did not see Christianization as necessarily destructive of cultural specificity (as long as it was voluntary), but he did consider complete linguistic assimilation to be potentially detrimental. As a linguist with a folkloristic bent, he was keenly aware oflanguage's importance in vernacular traditions and thus in cultural identity. In this regard he was quite like the most progressive fin-desiecle proponents of the Il'minskii system, especially the minority intelligentsias who were loyal to their native cultures. For this reason he considered such people his allies and participated enthusiastically in their projects. In his travels and research, Katanov was sensitive to evidence of Russians' exploitation of indigenous peoples and the resulting disaffection of the latter. Archival materials show that he included such observations in official reports on his expeditions in spite of the possible discomfort of state officials. In an 1889 letter to the Geographical Society on the peoples in the RussianChinese border region, Katanov reported that according to the Soiots, "the Russian merchants ... distribute products to them at high prices and take their cattle by force. These extortions have taught the Soiots to steal." In another report, he included even the most anti-Russian bits of Siberian folklore: "0 woman who has slept with a Russian, do not come to my yurt," and so on.41 Typically, in archival copies of Katanov's reports such passages are underlined (perhaps with alarm) in the recipient's blue pencil. After he settled in Kazan, Katanov translated and published local Tatar folklore of a similarly unsettling nature: accounts of Ivan's conquest of the Kazan khanate and songs commemorating the misfortune; descriptions of how the Russians seized land from the local peoples and forced the Tatars into certain parts of Kazan.42 Even on less controversial matters such as the Quoted in Barashkov-Epchelei, I33· See also Poktovskii, "Pamiati," 254· Kokova, 63. 4! RGO, f. I, I888, op. I, d. 20, I. 6; RGIA, f. 733· op. I 50, d. 284, II. 224-56 (quote from I. 228ob.). 42 "lstoricheskie pesni kazanskikh tatar," IAOIE I5 (I899): 273-306; "Tatarskii rasskaz o vziatii Kazani," Obnovlenie, May IB, I9o6. 39 40

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history of the city's various features and their names, only Russian sources had ever been cited or published in Russian. Katanov took the Volga Tatars' historical experience of conquest and present-day cultural repression and marginalization to heart almost as if they were his own. Not since Karl F. Fuks had anyone worked so hard to bring the study of the Tatars into local consciousness, and especially to give play to Tatars' own voices. In 1899 Katanov arranged for the publication of Fuks's Short History of the City of Kazan. Written in I 8 I 7, the book was the first to use the major Tatar sources in addition to the Russian ones. Presumably for this reason-its citations from Tatar chronicles, its frank discussion of minority uprisings, and so onit had never before appeared in its entirety.43 During his tenure as president of the OAIE, Katanov actively sought to increase the number of Tatar members in the society and contributors to its journal, as well as the interest of the broader Muslim public in science.44 As head of the Kazan municipal museum, Katanov lowered the price of admission to the museum on Fridays "in order to attract Muslim visitors to the museum."45 The Russian scholarly community was not always ready for these initiatives; according to Katanov's daughter, the reason he was not reelected as president of the OAIE in I9I4 (and at least two of his friends were voted out of the executive council) was his "democratization" of the organization to include more ethnic non-Russian members and collaborators.46 Katanov made his most notable contributions to the greater visibility oflslam and the Tatars in Kazan by writing for the popular local press. The bulk of this writing appeared in the magazine of the Kazan Temperance Society, Deiatel' (The Activist), which began publication in I 896, a decade before the legalization of Tatar periodicals. Monthly issues of Deiatel' frequently included Katanov's presentations of Eastern lore and wisdom to his Russian readers, on topics ranging from Chinese folk medicine and Japanese customary law to local Tatar proverbs and the Muslim prohibition on alcohol. This last topic, to be sure, was a compelling reason to include Tatar materials in the publication of a temperance organization, but to insinuate that Tatars' behavior and morality were an enviable model may have raised the hackles of some Russians. Katanov also wrote a regular book review section headed "Eastern Bibliography," devoted entirely to the growing number of books in Tatar and other Turkic languages, especially those published in Kazan. Though the descriptions of the books were in Russian, the titles and author headings appeared in the original languages (in Arabic type) followed by Russian translations. Katanov was particularly energetic in publicizing the calendars and other 43 M. A. Usmanov, "Neskol'ko slov ob istoriko-emograficheskikh trudakh Karla Fuksa," in K F. Fuks, Kazanskie tatary v statisticheskom i etnograficheskom otnoshenii (with Kratkaia istoriia goroda Kazanz) (Kazan, 1991), 7-8. 44 Kokova, 43-44. 45 Kamsko-volzhskaia rech' 166 (May I, 1909). 46 Katanova, "lz vospominanii," 179-8o.

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32 5

works of his friend Kaium Nasyry, the Kazan Tatar reformer.47 Insofar as Katanov's reviews emphasized secular literature in Tatar, they implicitly sought to foster recognition of the jadid movement's far-reaching implications for Tatar culture.48 Katanov was one of the first non-Muslims in Kazan to pay attention to this development. In a 1903 survey of Tatar publishing, he reported on Tatars' increasing interest in scientific, geographical, and historical literature, emphasizing the willingness of Tatars to reconcile Islam with modern science and Tatar historians' progress in distinguishing reliable sources from dubious ones. He noted a more widespread recognition of the utility of learning the Russian language, as well as the translation of Russian literature of all kinds into Tatar. Unlike many Russians, Katanov welcomed these changes.49 In the short-lived 1906 newspaper Obnovlenie (Renewal), Katanov wrote a handful of articles on Muslim demands for educational reform. He signed the articles "D. I. K-ii," and explained to a confidant, "This means dikii [literally: wild, savage], belonging to none of the political parties now existing."50 (It is tempting to think that the pseudonym was also a sarcastic reference to common perceptions of Katanov's ethnic background.) In one of these articles Katanov defended the Il'minskii schools against charges of fostering "inorodets separatism." In another he tried to impress upon readers the widespread popularity of new attitudes toward education among Muslim youth. In March a group of shakirds from ten medresses in Kazan had sent a petition to their teachers demanding a thorough reform and standardization of the confessional secondary schools. The petition asked for the inclusion of subjects such as the philosophy of religion, world history and geography, and the natural sciences; the omission of "unnecessary subjects"; the founding of a library at each medresse; and the observance of hygienic standards. In effect, Katanov urged Russians to see the fundamental merit in the application of European standards and materials to the medresses, expressing confidence that "with the realization of [the shakirds'] demands, the arbitrariness and disorder in the medresses should diminish significantly."51 Though these were controversial themes, neither was so sensitive that a Russian would have risked a great deal by using his own name. Katanov may have felt, however, that as an inorodets he was more likely to face reprisals for these liberal views. Although Katanov never openly espoused Turkic nationalism, it is possible 47 M. K Bakeev, "Tvorcheskoe sodruzhestvo dvukh uchenykh (N. F. Katanov i Kaium Nasyri)," in Domozhakov, 67-80. See also Barashkov-Epchelei's reminiscence of Katanov's defense ofNasyry against the judgments of the chauvinist K F. Zalesskii, ibid., 156-57. 48 A. G. Karimullin, Knigi i liudi: Issledovanie (Kazan, 1985), 22449 N. Katanov, "Povolzhskie tatary v ikh prozvedeniiakh i v zhizni: Obzor literaturnoi deiatel'nosti tatar za XIX vek," Povolzh'e 1 (1903): 1-29. 50 BLKU, d. 8817, I. 8. 51 K-ii, "Iz Orenburgskoi gubernii," Obnovlenie 6 (1906); D. I. K-ii, "Neskol'ko slov po povodu volnenii v musul'manskikh shkolakh," Obnovlenie So (1906); D. I. K-ii, "Zhaloby nabliudatel'nykh tatar na padenie nravovv sovremennom musul'manskom obshchestve," Obnovlenie 95 (1906).

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that his studies and personal experiences made him at least moderately sympathetic to movements for independence from the Russian state. In a letter to a close friend, the ethnographer and administrator A. V. Vasil' ev, in October 1905 he wrote: You say that among the inorodtsy there are no intelligentsia activists [intellgentnye deiatelz]. Will there be any if people want to destroy the inorodtsy? The Jews, the Poles, and the Finns, and also various peoples of the Caucasus, taking advantage of the Russians' own troubles, want to separate themselves and declare themselves independent, but the Eastern inorodtsy don't have the courage to raise their heads, and they have no faith in revolutionaries [buntan]. Some administrators are prepared to wipe out the Bashkirs, and Tatars, and Kirgiz [Kazakhs] as nationalities; who would want to work for such authorities among the inorodtsy in the borderlands? The Germans and the French yearn to understand the East, but in Russia neither the authorities, nor the students, nor the people are interested in it, even though the government is aware of the benefits of studying the East. 52 The Bashkir nationalist Zeki Velidi (Togan) recalled in his memoirs that in Katanov had spoken to him in cynical terms about being an inorodets in the Russian academic world. Katanov had advised him not to trust Russian scholars. He regarded Velidi, then still a student, as the next native nonRussian in the empire who would excel in oriental studies, and wanted to ensure his success. The only three to date, he said, had been Dorzhi Banzarov (a Buriat), Chokan Valikhanov (a Kazakh), and Katanov himself. 53 1912

Each of us dedicated himself fully to Russian literature. I left shamanism and became a Christian, and I serve [Russian] science. Chokan and Dorzhi both died from vodka before they reached age 35, because our Russian colleagues have taught us nothing but how to drink. ... The cultural environment in which I was born and raised is not as strong as Islam; the life of our people is pitiful, and among Russians we remained outsiders. In you I see a person who understands how powerful a culture he represents. 54 Most of Katanov's contemporaries would have been surprised to hear him make such defiant statements. Indeed, in the statements both to Velidi and Vasil'ev he appears supportive and encouraging of other inorodtsy's radical inclinations even while reluctant or afraid to participate in opposition or resistance himself.55 Because of the nature of many ofKatanov's extra-academic activities, many BLKU, d. 8817, I. 5· On Banzarov, see Chapter 5. On Valikhanov, see Serge Zenkovsky, Pan-Turkism and Islam in Russia, 2d ed. (Cambridge, Mass., 1967), 61-63. 54 Zaki Validi Togan, Vospominaniia, trans. G. Shafikov and A. Iuldashbaev (Ufa, 1994), 1:125-26. 55 On Validov's activities after 1917, see Zenkovsky, Pan-Turkism, 195-208. 52 53

Katanov: lnorodets in the Russian Academy I 327 people assumed that he was a staunch believer in the tsarist order in its approach to governing the non-European peoples it had conquered. Katanov was active in Kazan's missionary circles as an advocate of the Il'minskii system; he served on the translation committees of both the St. Gurii Brotherhood and the Kazan Education Circuit. Nikolai Bobrovnikov credited Katanov with keeping the circuit translation committee's activities going during the period when the Kazan Teachers' Seminary and the Il'minskii system were under greatest attack.56 For the Holy Synod Katanov helped translate the Gospels into Iakut. In 1905, at the request of the MNP, he participated in the meeting on the education of minority peoples that reaffirmed the government's commitment to Il'minskii's ideas. Besides his Kazan University students, Katanov taught and advised many of the missionary students at the Kazan Theological Academy. In 1912 he became a professor at the academy (while retaining his position at the university), though this appointment came only after a great deal of controversy. Association with the Kazan missionaries, however, may tell us less about Katanov's political views than many have assumed. By the early twentieth century, as we have seen, adherents of the Il'minskii system occupied moderate or even progressive positions on questions of ethnicity and nationality as often as they did conservative views. Little is known about the extent of Katanov's personal religiosity, though the OAIE's obituary (in 1922, when piety was no longer fashionable) painted him in the most conservative terms, claiming that in his spare time he enjoyed reading Orthodox liturgical books in Greek.57 One ofKatanov's biographers, on the other hand, has called that source's claims highly exaggerated, and that his involvement with missionaries stemmed from his interest primarily in the "civil" aspect of education for minority peoples, which in Kazan was inextricable from the religious aspect.5S Nonetheless, during the Soviet era Katanov's association with the church became a liability as far as his reputation was concerned. The matter of Katanov's involvement with the Kazan Temperance Society is also puzzling. A. T. Solov'ev, the publisher of Deiatel', was a local leader of the chauvinistic, right-wing Union of Russian People, or Black Hundreds. 59 On occasion the magazine took antagonistic stances against ethnic minorities. A biographer has argued plausibly that Katanov published his "Eastern Bibliography" in Deiatel' rather than in the OAIE's Izvestiia because of scholarly disagreements with the ethnographic society in the 189os.60 The intellectuals and amateurs of the OAIE would have objected not only to the prodigious quantity of Tatar literature its president reviewed in Deiatel' but also to Vasil'ev, ''Vospominaniia," 105-6; Ivanov, 89. Pokrovskii, "Pamiati," 255. Ivanov, 68, 72-73. 59 A 1909 police report mentioned (approvingly) Solov'ev's membership in a local "Russian National Club," whose views were pro-tsarist, pro-church, and anti-Semitic: GARF, f. 102, dp. 4, 1909, d. 108, ch. 24, I. 9· 60 Kokova, 46. 56 57 58

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the use of Arabic type in the format. Yet Katanov's relationship with the temperance society was probably not purely instrumental. He wrote to a friend in I 90 I, "Deiatel' is the organ of the Temperance Society, of which I am secretary. I like this society very much, and that is why I write in its journal quite often, even though a more appropriate place for the Eastern Bibliography would be in the lzvestiia of OAIE."61 Katanov's role in controversies over the MNP's policy toward the secular education of Muslims is ambiguous as well. In I9o6 Katanov was drafted into a commission to reevaluate the education regulations of March 3I, I9o6, which had come under passionate attack by Tatar and Bashkir activists. Much of the controversy was over the rules' prescription for using a Cyrillic transcription for schoolbooks in Turkic languages; ll'minskii's method for Orthodox inorodtsy was now to be applied to the education of Muslims as well. Asked to prepare a memo on the question, Katanov supported the use of the transcription. It appears that his position contradicted his devotion to the integrity oflanguages as he had expressed it in debates within the OAIE on transcriptions of primary texts in research. That issue, however, had concerned the interpretation of historical sources, whereas this was a more purely pedagogical matter. Katanov's advocacy of transcription for schooling did conform to his scholarly opinions about the phonetic aspects of language. In the interests of linguistic accuracy and of preserving the identities and languages of the smaller Turkic peoples against Tatarization, Katanov argued that a modified Cyrillic alphabet could convey the sounds of the Turkic languages better than the Arabic alphabet could. Phonetically, he claimed, Arabic letters were less effective in distinguishing one Turkic language from another. Katanov said he had considered the plausibility of using the Latin alphabet, but realized that its inconsistent pronunciation in the languages of Western Europe could lead to confusion. Assuredly, it required little courage on Katanov's part to support that side of the issue, since he was recommending that the MNP not back down to its Muslim critics, whose influence on the commission was only marginal. From the point of view of the Muslim activists, Katanov had betrayed the cause of minority peoples. 62 Surely, his explanation for the usefulness of the transcription did not encompass all the official motives for the legislation. But Katanov was not interested in dissecting his Russian colleagues' reasoning as long as he agreed with them on the final policy. Though he may have been correct in dismissing as "slanderous" Tatars' claims that the Cyrillic transcription indicated plans for forced Christianization, he would not concede in public that some Russian officials' insistence on Cyrillic instead of Arabic was motivated by political and cultural chauvinism. And he most certainly misrepresented his colleagues' mind-set when he lauded the Cyrillic transcription for promising to facilitate Russians' eventual learning of the Turkic languages as well as the Tur61

62

BLKU, f. 8817, I. 2ob. V. Gordlevskii, "Pamiati N. F. Katanova," Novyi vostok

1 (1922): 451.

Katanov: lnorodets in the Russian Academy I 329 kic minorities' learning of Russian.63 Katanov took the path of least resistance, but justified it to himself by distancing himself from official motives. Occasionally this approach may actually have allowed Katanov to turn official policies or projects away from their original objectives. In 1912 the Theological Academy began publication of a supplement to Pravoslavnyi sobesednik titled Inorodcheskoe obozrenie (The Inorodets Review). Such a journal had been prescribed by Stolypin's 1910 meeting on Islam, and its funding was provided in part by the MVD. Mikhail A. Mashanov, the missionary appointed to the editorship, asked after several months that Katanov replace him, claiming poor health as well as his conviction that "since the journal should not be of a polemical nature, but rather scientific-ethnographic," it was inappropriate that a specialist on polemics be in charge. Eventually the journal proved useful to readers of a wider range of perspectives and motives than the MVD had intended. The governor of Kazan province wanted to see the journal published in a more timely fashion because of its usefulness in authorities' "efforts to take timely measures to weaken and eliminate dangerous influences and to guard the interests of the Orthodox Church and the Russian people [narodnost1-'' Yet Katanov also received praise from Ahmed Agaev, a prominent advocate of Pan-Turkism living in Paris, who promised to recommend the journal to all his friends. 64 One of Katanov's most controversial activities was as a government censor of publications in minority languages. In 1906 the professor agreed to serve in a Kazan censorship bureau called the Special Committee for Press Affairs. Established on the initiative of the local censor and director of the Tatar Teachers' School, Mikhail N. Pinegin, with the blessing of the governor and the MVD, the committee was to monitor the regional press, including (and especially, as it turned out) publications in Tatar and other Eastern languages. Since preliminary or advance censorship (predvaritel'naia tsenzura) had been abolished by law in 1905, the committee should have been concerned only with material already printed, but in fact it performed preliminary censorship as well. Pine gin, chairman of the committee, claimed that in spite of the new law, several local presses had asked him to continue examining manuscripts before publication. This allegation was by no means implausible. Postpublication punitive censorship (karatel'naia tsenzura) had not been affected by the new press law, and publishers felt less vulnerable to prosecution when they could be warned beforehand not to print objectionable passages. Not until the eve of the First World War did the provincial governor insist that Pine gin discontinue the preliminary censorship.65 RGIA, f. 733, op. I73, d. 107, II. 86-92. NART, f. 969, op. I, d. 79, II. I, 9, Io9, 36. On Agaev (r869-I939), see Chapter 8 and Landau, Pan-Turkism, 36. In this letter he indicated that he was working in Paris on behalf of Algerian Muslims. 65 A. G. Karimullin, Tatarskaia kniga nachala XX veka (Kazan, I974), 227-28; NART, f. 420, op. r, d. 50. 63

64

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Previously the censorship of Turkic publications had been handled in St. Petersburg by the archconservative university Turkologist Vasilii D. Smirnov (incidentally, one ofKatanov's least supportive teachers). Now, with the legalization of periodicals in Tatar and an explosion in the number of books published in Tatar, oversight presumably could proceed more efficiently in Kazan, where much of the literature was published. Pinegin made Katanov responsible for reviewing all local nonperiodical publications in the Turkic languages (Tatar, Chuvash, Turkish, and others), Persian, and Arabic. Nikolai Ashmarin took on the oversight of all periodicals in these languages. 66 A year after the committee began its work, St. Petersburg made it responsible for reviewing everything published not only by Kazan's eleven Tatar presses but also by two in Ufa and others in Crimea and Astrakhan, as well as Turkic publications imported from abroad for circulation in Russia. As the committee's geographical purview widened, it became less and less concerned with literature in Russian. Originally, three of its five members were occupied with the Russian-language press. By the time of the First World War, five of six censors were spending considerable time on literature in Tatar and other Eastern languages. 67 As imperial and regional officials became increasingly fearful of the Volga region's infiltration by putative Pan-Turkist and Pan-lslamist separatist movements, Katanov also was expected frequently to translate materials in Tatar and other languages submitted by the governor's office and the provincial police. In 1911 he was asked to teach Tatar to a police detective assigned to investigate Turkic dissidents. For many years he also worked directly for the Kazan Circuit Court as an expert in criminal cases requiring knowledge of the cultures and languages of regional minorities.68 In 1914, Katanov and most of the committee's other members were appointed military censors to inspect soldiers' correspondence from the war front. By taking on such responsibilities Katanov placed himself in a sensitive position. His reason for doing so is puzzling, because according to those who knew him, he usually tried to retreat from controversy. He once complained of the civil rights advances of 1905, "Under this freedom of speech, which could also be called disorder or licentiousness, there is no peace for the living or the dead."69 In private statements, Katanov said that his chief reason for agreeing to take on official censorship and translation work was the opportunity to nearly double his yearly income (and thus to ease his family's financial hardship), and that he would gladly quit if given ordinate status at the university. 70 He also admitted, however, that the work he did for 66 In r9o8, Ashmarin asked Pinegin to relieve him of preliminary review of periodical literature on the grounds that it was no longer legal: NART, f. 420, op. r, d. uz, 11. 53-54. 67 Karimullin, Tatarskaia kniga, 205, zr9-20. 68 On Katanov's police agent student, see GARF, f. roz, Osobyi Otdel, r9u, d. 25r, 11. 35-36, 43,53-54,60, rr4, rr8-zr. 69 BLKU, d. 9044, I. rob. 70 Ibid., d. 88 I7, I. r Sob.

Katanov: Inorodets in the Russian Academy

33 I

the courts, though it required several hours of daily work, paid extremely little-in two and a half years he had earned just 70 rubles for it. 71 Presumably, then, more than financial incentives drove Katanov to accept such tasks. One historian and Katanov biographer has called Pinegin among the most conservative of censors. 72 Another biographer has called Katanov's time as a censor "a gloomy decade," arguing that Katanov harbored a great deal of guilt for his involvement in the committee's repressive actions against Tatars, including the shutdown of the Bobi medresse in I9I I for alleged Pan-Turkist subversion and the arrest of the beloved national poet Gabdulla Tukai for antigovernment passages in his writing.73 Both these scholars have given Katanov credit for having tried to exert a moderating influence on the machinery of repression. Neither, however, has acknowledged how moderate, even liberal, the censorship committee was overall. Katanov's reports for the committee indicate a scrupulousness about calling attention to passages that might disturb some staunch conservatives; he knew that neglecting to mention such details might jeopardize his own credibility. In most cases, though, he refrained from any overinterpretation or emotional reaction, and usually insisted that the publication in question could be published as it was without consequence. He rarely recommended censoring an item, and it appears that Pinegin rarely (if ever) challenged his recommendations. The records show that numerous publications successfully passed the committee's scrutiny without incident, in spite of the transgressions Katanov pointed out. These included ridiculing the celibacy of the Orthodox black clergy; urging Tatar schoolchildren to serve their religion and nation and to be vigilant against the injustices of illegal authorities; exhorting Turks to strengthen the "Muslim nation" through education; describing SDs, SRs, "agitators," and "radicals" as activists working for the good of the people; declaring Islam the only true religion; and praising warm relations between the Tatar and Japanese peoples.74 Notwithstanding the desire of officials in St. Petersburg to prohibit the expression of such views, the Kazan censors usually agreed that such publications contained "nothing criminal." Velidi recalled that both Katanov and Ashmarin helped him to publish his first book on Turkic history. Perhaps because of their Turkic background and dedication to scholarship, "they didn't cross out any passages concerning the Russians, and published the book as it was written."75 Probably more than the other members of the censorship committee, Katanov was also aware of expectations and suspicions of him among the Tatars, and sought to preserve the goodwill of all. While tsarist authorities ARAN (Spb), f. 202, op. 2, d. 195, I. 43ob.; Kokova, 81-82. Karimullin, Tatarskaia kniga, 203. Karimullin (2 23-32) concedes that over the years Pinegin became more liberal. 73 Kokova, 89-92, 99· 74 NART, f. 420, d. 129, II. I, 4· 9, 10, 240b.; d. 107, II. 3-4, 9Q-92. 75 Togan, Vospominaniia, 128. 71 72

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were quick to find that jadid literature denouncing "tyranny" and the "old order" was subversive, Katanov insisted that its target was the traditional power of the kadimists (conservative mullahs) in Tatar society, not the state.76 In a case involving a publication by the jadid Musa Bigeev that had been denounced by conservative Tatars as heretical, however, Katanov took special care to explain to his boss why the kadimists' criticisms did not warrant censoring the book, lest they complain to Pinegin about him. 77 In the case of the Sufic Vaisian sect, whose loyalty to the state was a point of controversy, Katanov took special care to interpret their reverence for "tsar" as to the Russian tsar, when it was possible that they referred to God. Katanov had himself published a negative evaluation of the sect, however, and perhaps sought to balance his treatment of them. 78 Only occasionally did the censors have no choice but to censor. It is difficult to find any completely consistent pattern, , but prohibition seems to have been applied most frequently to literature that directly challenged the basic precepts of the Christian religion or made direct threats to the integrity of the Russian state. Katanov and his colleagues also might recommend cuts or prohibition when the material in question was brought to them for judgment by an outside party or government organ that might be looking over their shoulders. In one case, Katanov energetically advocated the complete suppression of a pamphlet that accused the Russian government of supporting forced baptism of Tatars, slander against Islam, the giving of inferior land and legal standing to Tatars, and unfairly taking Tatars' tax money without giving them the schools they deserved in return. Pinegin agreed, and the pamphlet was confiscated. 79 It is hard to believe that Katanov did not agree with at least some of these views, yet he would never have attached his name to them in print. Exercising a vivid imagination and remembering the angriest passages in Katanov's personal correspondence, one can find moments in his censorcommittee reports that might be interpreted as subversive, if only in a tonguein-cheek way. In many reports, he reported the content of a manuscript objectively without indicating his own opinion, yet he attached subtle clues. In one instance he pointed out that a Kazakh book vilified Russian "swine" for their behavior toward the Kazakhs, at the very end neglecting to close the quotation marks before signing his name and perhaps creating the impression that the words might be his own. A similar example concerns a Tatar calendar that contained strong denunciations of injustices in the government's budgetary allocations; the translation ended with the lament, "Pitiful fpechal'no ], this state of affairs, pitiful!" followed simply by Katanov's signature. so Kokova, 83-84. NART, f. 420, d. r29, II. 2-3. See also d. ro7, II. r9-20, a case involving a Tatar political agenda. 78 Katanov, Novye dannye o Musul'manskoi sekte Vilisovtsev (Kazan, r9o9); other materials are in NART, f. 969, d. so. 79 NART, f. 420, op. r, d. ro7, II. 65-67, 22, rr. 80 Ibid., II. 35-3776

77

Katanov: Inorodets in the Russian Academy I 333 In another report, Katanov drew attention to a passage inviting Muslims to kill polytheists (mnogobozhnikt). "Some Islamic scholars," he pointed out, "say that the Russians are also to some degree polytheists, because they preach the three persons of the Trinity.... But the majority say that Christians, Jews, and Muslims ... are not pagans but peoples with holy books." He introduced the possible objection needlessly, only to discard it in the next line. It most likely would not have occurred to Russian censors or readers that Muslims' statements about idolators were aimed at them as Orthodox. But perhaps Katanov's real intention here was to joust with Russians' condescension to non-Christians by acknowledging and drawing attention to the possible fluidity between polytheistic religions and Christianity.81 The censorship committee's moderation did not go unnoticed. Its members, including Pinegin and Katanov, were periodically mentioned in tsarist police reports as possible sympathizers of the very Pan-Turkists and PanIslamists they were supposed to be silencing, and as allowing supposedly banned Tatar literature to be sold in bookstores.82 In 19ro Nikolai Bobrovnikov told the commission studying Islam for the MVD that Pinegin was "politically unreliable" and sympathetic to Pan-Turkism. Acquaintances of Pinegin on the commission denied the charge. Afterward Governor Strizhevskii of Kazan wrote to the police to dispel the accusation, but nonetheless confirmed that Pinegin had been in a relationship with a Tatar woman for about twenty years. 83 Why did these individuals defend Pine gin so quickly? Most likely, they all knew that interethnic relations in the Volga region and in Kazan would only be worsened by a harder stance on the part of the censors. It is even plausible that Pinegin formed the Special Committee on Press Affairs in order to prevent the deluge of new Tatar literature in 1906 from falling into the hands ofV. D. Smirnov in St. Petersburg. In discussions of the new press law, Smirnov had already shown extreme hostility to the jadid movement and had opposed the extension of freedom of the press to literature in Tatar. 84 In September 1912 Katanov resigned from the press committee. In response to the pleas of Pinegin and Strizhevskii, however, he returned only a few months later, in April 1913. By this time he had been replaced (by the Theological Academy's Arabic instructor, P. K Zhuze) and therefore was able to specify which work he was willing to do: he preferred translating and evaluating materials for local administration, including the courts and police (precisely the most politicized activities, which historians have claimed were the source of his dissatisfaction), but asked to be spared from reviewing the Ibid., 11. q-r5, 35-37. GARF, f. w2, 3 dp., 19II, d. 20, ch. 17, 1. 9ob. 83 Ibid., 4 dp., I9IO, d. 24, ch. II, 11. 3-5. 84 Karimullin, Tatarskaia kniga, 196-97. On V. D. Smirnov, also see Chapter 4· It is likely that the charges against both Ahmed Agaev and Iusuf Akchura in 1908 were made on the basis of Smirnov's reports on their publications; perhaps these were some of the last items Smirnov received for review before the censorship moved to Kazan in early 1907. 81

82

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Tatar periodical press and inspecting mail parcels. 85 Still Katanov found the work stressful. He attempted to resign once more in the spring of 1914, but Pinegin was able to keep him on for two more years before finally granting his request in 1916. This sober look at the activities of the Kazan censors, though it is by no means thorough, suggests that it is rash to see Katanov as having sold his soul to the state, becoming a lackey of the tsarist repressive apparatus. As far as we can tell, he had little to be ashamed of in terms of his actual impact on the Tatar press. Nonetheless, the work must have been fraught with tension since the committee's opinions were quite clearly out of synch with those of the St. Petersburg establishment, especially after the 1910 meeting in which the MVD resolved to root out Tatar reformism. This tension, plus Katanov's recent appointment to the faculty of the Theological Academy, are more likely the reasons for Katanov's resignation; since he now taught simultaneously at the academy and the university, he may have been more pressed for time and less pressed for funds. Of all the censors, Katanov was probably the most vulnerable of all since he was perceived in Kazan as a racial outsider. It may be this vulnerability, in fact, that impelled Katanov to spend so much of his time performing such services to the state, even when there was little profit in it, and that made it easy for Pinegin to persuade him repeatedly to continue. Through this official work, he may have sought to burnish his image as a loyal supporter of the tsarist order and forestall accusations of the sort made against him by some church elites. The Theological Academy Controversy

In 1910 Evfimii Malov announced his impending retirement from the Kazan Theological Academy. The vacancy of his chair in "Tatar-Turkic languages and ethnography" opened a fierce competition among both secular and clerical scholars in the region. Katanov applied for the position out of frustration with his pay and status at the university. He had failed repeatedly with petitions to have his chair there promoted to ordinate status, and thought that the academy might offer him the chance to influence a younger generation of scholars. Though Katanov evidently was easily the most accomplished scholar of all the applicants and the academy was greatly flattered by his having applied for the job, Malov himself stood behind the candidacy of one of his own pupils, Aleksandr F. Mikhailov, a polemically oriented missionary and priest whom he had mentored at the academy twenty years earlier. 86 Karimullin, Tatarskaia kniga, 214The other candidates besides Katanov and Mikhailov were Panteleimon K. Zhuze, a Palestinian Christian trained in Arabic studies at the Kazan Theological Academy; lakov D. Koblov, a former pupil of Malov and a former diocesan missionary against Islam; and Nikolai V. Nikol' skii, a teacher in the academy's two-year missionary program. Nikol'skii, a friend ofKatanov, eventually withdrew from the competition to express his respect for Katanov's far superior status as a scholar. Ivanov, 73· 85

86

Katanov: lnorodets in the Russian Academy I 3 35 Knowing the widespread support for Katanov on the academy faculty (spearheaded by the academy's other Islamologist, Mikhail Mashanov), Malov mounted a fierce campaign against him. First he tried to disqualify Katanov on the basis of his being a layman seeking employment in an institution for theological studies. Ironically, however, it came to light that in 1886 Malov's chair had been classified as an ordinate in "special missionary science" rather than for "theological science" because this was the only way Malov, not yet having his theology doctorate, would be eligible.87 Now Malov asked the synod to reverse its previous ruling since Katanov's doctorate was from a university, not a church academy. The synod refused. 88 When the candidates submitted written work and gave trial lectures, Malov was asked for critical evaluations of the presentations. In his commentary, Malov railed against Katanov's candidacy by exploiting the professor's nonRussian origin, conflating it with issues of religion, morality, and scholarship. He attacked Katanov's conception of ethnography and of ethnographic research: the linguistic and folkloric materials Katanov had included in his master's dissertation, Malov maintained, were "everything that he happened to hear, both the good and the bad, with no discriinination. But everyone knows," Malov continued, "that the speech of the folk, of the marketplace, and the songs of drunken people are one thing, and specimens [obrazt.ry] of folk literature are another, when these specimens are printed in a book, and are read by people wishing to know exactly what kind of specimens they are." Many of Katanov's examples, he said, were "of absolutely no use but for offending [readers'] moral sensibilities." Malov added that Katanov was also guilty of an "unpatriotic" rendering of the Russian conquest of Kazan. 89 Malov's assessment of Katanov's religious views was especially harsh. "For Katanov," he charged, "any sorts of songs and tales have as much significance as the Word of God. He is not at all interested in the spread of Christianity among the inorodt.ry whose dialects he studies." Katanov viewed popular beliefs about John the Baptist, Jesus Christ, and the Virgin Mary just as he did "legends, superstitions, riddles, songs, and such forms of folk literature." Responding to a lecture in which Katanov compared the symbolic use of roosters in Cheremis rituals and in medieval Russian Orthodox crucifixes, Malov commented, "To compare such highly significatory imagery as a rooster on the cross of the Savior with the superstitions of inorodt.ry is simply a mockery of the Christian religion. And such mockery can only be expected from an inorodets who has forgotten or who has never known the Holy Gospel. "90 The problem, in other words, could be traced to Katanov's very nature, which superseded his religious upbringing. Malov also found fault with Katanov's writings on Muslim religious beliefs RGIA, f. 796, op. 167, d. 446, 11. 1-8, 33-34ob. Ibid., op. 192, d. 268, 1. 3-3ob. 89 "Protokoly zasedanii Soveta Kazanskoi dukbovnoi akademii za 1911 g.," PS, 1913, supp., llO, ll5i emphasis in original. 90 Ibid., lll-12, 125-26. 87 88

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because, he said, they presented falsehoods about the life of Jesus Christ "without any guiding words, which means to attribute full truthfulness to them." Such works, in Malov's eyes, were "positively dangerous for Russians and for the baptized inorodtsy into whose hands they fall."91 In the professor's articles on the religious practices of various non-Russian peoples, Malov found an overemphasis on pre-Christian animism and an underestimation of Orthodox missionaries' effectiveness over the centuries. To Katanov's conclusion of a lecture with a statement on the resilience of Kriashen superstitions, Malov responded, "Are these really the words of a Christian, of a future leader of missionaries? Or are they the words of a Muslim delighting in the slow progress of the Russian Orthodox mission?"92 Malov recalled that Il'minskii had distrusted orientalists trained anywhere but at the Kazan Theological Academy. "The students of Eastern languages at Petersburg University and the Lazarev Institute [in Moscow]," Il'minskii had written, "are unfit for our Asiatic borderlands because they study the literature, history, and ethnography of the Asiatic peoples objectively and they transfer their sympathy to them. To [these students] the mosque and the datsan are sanctuaries, the mufti and the khambo-lama are real bishops, and baptized inorodtsy, in their view, are an anomaly."93 This was a sensitive issue for Malov. In 1909, his own son, like Katanov, had graduated from the Department of Eastern Languages of St. Petersburg University. Sergei Efimovich had angered and alienated his father by deciding to pursue a secular academic career. Later to become the most renowned scholar of Central Asia in the Soviet Union, he found a friend and mentor in Katanov. According to I. F. Kokova, E. A. Malov banished his son from the family house, but Katanov eventually managed to bring about a reconciliation between the father and son. 94 "Katanov," Malov stated in the report, "did not receive a missionary training and orientation in the Kazan Theological Academy, as an inorodets almost never expresses patriotic sympathies with Russia, and is always trying to relate objectively to the most important figures of the Christian religion." We hardly need be concerned with the fact that the opinions of foreign scholars regarding [Katanov's]linguistic and ethnographic works are well known. I personally have not had the opportunity to know where these reviews are. Aren't foreign scholars clamoring about these works because in them [Katanov] discusses the Christian religion objectively, indifferently, and very seldom at that? It is also well known that many educated Frenchmen and Englishmen have themselves converted to Islam!95 91 Ibid., I I4; emphasis in original. 92 Ibid., I29; emphasis added. 93 Ibid., I I7; emphasis in original. Il'minskii's original statement is in Pis'ma Nikolaia lvanovicha

Il'minskogo k Ober-prokuroru Sviateishego Sinoda &nstantinu Petrovichu Pobedonostsevu (Kazan,

I89s), n 94 Kokova, 6o. 95 "Protokoly zasedanii,"

II7-I8.

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3 37

In spite of this campaign of slander, a majority of the academy's council (including the rector) cast their ballots in Katanov's favor. But the archbishop waited over a month before requesting the synod's approval, and by including Malov's evaluations in the materials he submitted, effectively invited the oberprokuror to overrule Katanov's appointment. The synod took the hint, though it did not inform the academy until months later. Dusting off an old requirement that half the members of the academy's council (composed mostly of faculty) be ordained clergy, the synod argued: "Nikolai Katanov is not ordained, and in his previous scholarly work and service in a secular institution has not shown strictly Orthodox views and religious orientation." In Katanov's place the synod appointed Mikhailov, since he had been recommended by Malov himself and "in his activities and moral qualities corresponds fully to the demands of the academy's charter."96 Soon afterward, however, Mikhailov mysteriously turned down the position "because of family circumstances." The academy appointed Katanov after all, but deferred to the synod's judgment by giving him only the title of docent.97 Thus it replicated the humiliating predicament at the university that had led Katanov to seek employment at the academy in the first place. As a result, Katanov taught simultaneously at the two institutions until the Bolsheviks abolished the academy in 1917. It is not likely that Malov, in his heart, was opposed to Katanov's appointment to the academy primarily on ethnic or racial grounds. Perhaps he was not even motivated at all by race. Katanov was strongly affiliated with the followers ofll'minskii's missionary system-of which Malov had become an opponent-and did not represent the tradition of church scholarship as well as other candidates such as Mikhailov and Koblov. In any event, Malov wanted his own student to replace him. The important thing here is that the racial argument fell conveniently onto Malov's plate and Malov knew he could use it if necessary. Race notwithstanding, Katanov's extensive research on and contacts with the Muslims of Kazan, as well as his approach to the study of folklore, already made him vulnerable to suspicions of cultural heterodoxy. Malov's racialist charges simply tied all these suspicions together into one package. Though his campaign did not succeed among most of the academy faculty, it nevertheless persuaded the leadership of the Holy Synod, and in turn prompted the academy to deprive Katanov of his proper rank. 96 RGIA, f. 796, op. 192, d. 3 r 3, I. 49· The requirement that half the academy's council be ordained was already being violated, with only 7 of 2 3 members qualifying. The regulation had not been mentioned when several retiring faculty members had recently petitioned successfully toremain on the council (possibly in order to support Katanov's candidacy). The synod's ukaz also falsified Mikhailov's qualifications by misreporting the numbers of votes he had received (ibid., ll. 76-77). Finally, the synod was hypocritical in insinuating that Katanov's experience in a secular institution made him inappropriate, for at the same time it appointed A. I. Aleksandrov, a university professor, to the directorship of the Kazan academy and allowed hiin to continue teaching at the university (ibid., 11. 57-61). 97 NART, f. 10, op. r, d. 11045• ll. ro-u, So. For another account of the entire episode, see Ivanov, 72-79.

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This last blow nearly broke Katanov's spirit. Velidi (Togan) remembered Katanov in 1912, at age fifty, as an unhappy, rueful man and a heavy drinker. Katanov's frank, bitter revelations about the events of his life made his pupil uncomfortable. "The suspicion even entered my mind," Velidi wrote, "that perhaps this man was planning to commit suicide." But Velidi also indicates that he took Katanov's complaints as much more than the reflection of personal idiosyncrasies; as a result of this conversation he exercised great care in his relations with Russian orientalists.98 Not long after that meeting, Katanov put his entire library of 9,ooo volumes up for sale. The collection's failure to interest any Russian university or other institution may have reinforced Katanov's feeling that Russians had little interest in the cultures of the Turkic peoples. When no buyer appeared among the local Tatars either, Katanov advertised the library in Turkey. Eventually a visiting Turkish dignitary, Hussein Hilmi Pasha (soon to be appointed ambassador to Vienna), bought it for 8,ooo rubles and made it the basis of a Turkological institute at Istanbul University.99 After parting with the books Katanov wrote to his friend N. V. Nikol'skii, "I feel like I've buried someone very close to me."lOO In all likelihood, Katanov's sale of the library reflected not only his financial hardship but also emotional despondency and disinterest in continuing his work. Between 1912 and 1917 Katanov taught simultaneously at the university and the academy, but his scholarly output was negligible.1°1 In 1913 the MNP rejected yet another petition to raise his status at the university. By 1914 Katanov's dedication to the OAIE was flagging. His being voted out of office in that year, in all likelihood, reflected his own loss of interest as well as his unpopularity among the organization's membership for his insistence on greater attention to studies of the Tatars and the participation of Tatar scholars. But he finally did attain ordinate status at the academy in 1915, though after at least one unsuccessful petition to the Holy Synod. Epilogue: Katanov and His Legacy after 1917 The revolutions of 1917 brought changes in academic life that revived Katanov's scholarly activity somewhat in the last years of his life. There is little to suggest that Katanov was particularly enthusiastic about the Bolshevik program. Never very outspoken on controversial matters, during these years Katanov (according to a colleague) withdrew entirely into academics and "absolutely avoided commenting on current affairs, political or social."102 9s Togan, Vospominaniia, u s-z6. 99 Ibid., 141-42. 100 Quoted inN. V. Nikol'skii, "Vospominaniia

ob N. F. Katanove," in Domozhakov, 170. Ivanov, 77-79; Karimullin, Knigi i liudi, 24o--4r. NART, f. 10, op. 1, d. uz89; MIKU, f. N. F. Katanova, memoir by V. V. Miller, "Moi vospominaniia o Katanove," I. z; Ivanov, 83. 101 102

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Still, it is significant that Katanov did not hesitate to work in Kazan's new institutions. To the extent that-in the midst of civil war, institutional flux, and regional political experiments-new, progressive approaches toward the nationality question were identifiable in these early years of the revolution, Katanov seems to have reacted favorably to them)03 At the new Northeast Archeological and Ethnographic Institute Oater to be renamed the Oriental Institute), he taught Turkic languages, history, archeology, and numismatics, and at different times served as the dean of the institute's archeology department and of the "Eastern" department (for training specialists from among the local minorities)_l04 He also worked in the Museum of the Tatar Republic. In 1919, under a new regime, Kazan University appointed Katanov to a regular professorship, having chosen him after a national search. In the same year, he was once again elected president of the OAIE. That organization continued to exist for another decade. Katanov, however-exhausted by hard physical labor and weakened by hunger during a time of famine-died of a stroke in 1922.105 Because of public knowledge ofKatanov's affiliations with missionary institutions, reactionary publicists, censorship, and police surveillance, Katanov's historical reputation was primarily negative for much of the first half of the Soviet era. Though colleagues had offered positive assessments of his career upon his death in 1922, a sharply critical attitude seems to have taken hold during the early years of Stalin's rule. If Katanov's collaboration with chauvinists and reactionaries had in fact been born of a desire to escape political suspicions associated with his identity, such a fate in a supposedly more favorable political climate is highly ironic. Mikhail G. Khudiakov, a liberal activist in the OAIE turned Marxist critic of tsarist ethnography and archeology, portrayed Katanov in a 1933 study as a conservative and Russian chauvinist. Khudiakov cited Katanov's extensive work as a censor of Turkic-language publications and his collaboration with the 11 'minskii camp of missionaries as evidence ofKatanov's cooptation by the Russian state to aid in the denigration of minority cultures ~n the empire: He claimed (contrary to available evidence) that Katanov had neglected the restoration and research of the Bulgar monuments during his presidency of the OAIE because of his sympathies with the missionary camp, who disliked the affirmation it offered the Muslim Tatars. Khudiakov presented Katanov's !OJ In a I 92 2 letter responding to a request for advice from an organization for kraevedenie (local studies) in Saransk, Katanov wrote in apparent support of the new regime, "According to the theory of the Soviet authorities, it is imperative immediately to work out a program of research on all the nationalities [narodnostt], produce a map, divide the labor among various individuals, and begin from square one" (BLKU, d. 7384, I. 3ob). B. F. Miller mentioned upon Katanov's death how much the Tatar Autonomous Republic depended on Katanov's work (ARAN [Spb], f. 21 op. I, I922 1 d. I, l. I32). 104Jvanov, 85-87. 105 On Katanov's death, see the letter from B. F. Miller to S. F. Ol'denburg in ARAN (Spb), f. 21 op. I, I922 1 d. I, I. I32·

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ouster from the presidency in 1914 as the victory of a "liberal-democratic" faction within the OAIE.106 The first edition of the Great Soviet Encyclopedia called Katanov "a champion of the Russification policy of tsarist Russia." The second edition credited him with only "the compilation of factual materials"-perhaps not an unjust appraisal, but one that was made disproportionately with regard to scholars who were politically suspect-and blundy stated that "in his ideology Katanov was a monarchist," in spite of the fact that there remains no evidence of any such political commitment on his part.l07 Such characterizations, of course, are sharply at odds with the later recollections of Katanov's colleagues and family members and with the private correspondence that later came to light. In an act of historical distortion, the editors of the voluminous collected writings ofVasilii V. Bartol'd, which include a meticulously indexed volume on the history of Eastern studies and Turkology in Russia, seem deliberately to have avoided any mention of Katanov's name and work. This neglect seems strange in light not only of Katanov's prominence in Turkology during much of Bartol'd's career but also of the fact that the Bartol'd archive contains an unpublished draft of an obituary for Katanov)OS Only in the late 195os, during de-Stalinization, did Soviet scholars return to a recognition ofKatanov's accomplishments and begin to interpret them as politically acceptable. A biographical article written by Sergei E. Malov but not published until shortly after Malov's death (perhaps a significant fact) seems to have played a key role in this "rehabilitation."109 Afterward, in 1958, scholars at the Khakass institute of national studies in Abakan published an entire collection of reminiscences and reappraisals of Katanov. When approached to write her impressions for the volume in 1957, Katanov's daughter hesitated for fear that the institute was intending to further smear her father; Malov, however, persuaded her to go ahead. 110 Another contributor to the volume, the Leningrad University orientalist S. N. Ivanov, mined all the available archival material on Katanov to portray him in a 1962 biography as more a victim of tsarist ethnic repression than an agent thereof. Ill In the r98os and 1990s some scholars of national minorities, now freer to criticize Russian attitudes, provocatively turned Katanov into an "outstanding son of the Khakass people" and a hero for inorodtsy in general. They emphasized (and sometimes overemphasized) evidence for Katanov's subversive or even radical views and asserted that he used his positions in tsarist institutions to 106M. G. Khudiakov, Dorevoliutsionnaia russkaia arkheologiia na sluzhbe ekspluatatorskikh klassov (Leningrad, 1933), 104, 154- For other posthumous attacks on Katanov, see Kokova, 112-13. 107 Bol'shaia Sovetskaia Entsiklopediia (Moscow, 1937), 21:735; ibid., 2d ed. (Moscow, 1953), 20:361. No statement about Katanov's political views appeared in the 3d ed. 108 V. V. Bartol'd, Sochineniia, 9 vols. (Moscow, 1963-77); N. N. Tumanovich, Opisanie arkhiva akademika V. V. Bartol'da (Moscow, 1976), 316-17. 109 "N. F. Katanov, Prof. Kazanskogo Universiteta (1862-1922)," Vestnik Akademii nauk Kazakhskoi ASSR 5 (1958): 88-94110 ARAN (Spb), f. 1079, op. 3, d. 121, II. 1-2. 111 Ivanov, esp. 68-72.

Katanov: lnorodets in the Russian Academy I 341 dissent from reigning Russian views of inorodtsy, and even to undermine state policies.11 2 We should hardly be surprised that of all Kazan's scholars Katanov, a nonRussian constantly and even painfully aware of his difference, was the most inclined to challenge predominant ways of seeing the Muslim presence and minority peoples in general. Yet the notion that his feelings constituted a radical ideology-much less any assertion that Katanov took rebellious or subversive actions on these feelings-is by no means based on sufficient evidence to be taken as established fact. This brief account of his life, like others preceding it, is limited somewhat by the paucity of available personal writings (such as his private correspondence). No matter how many more personal documents of Katanov were to come to light, however, he is likely to remain forever somewhat of a sphinx to the historian searching for any clear picture of his identity. Additional sources are less likely to provide a more focused portrait of Katanov than to confirm the blurriness of his persona. As we have seen elsewhere, in spite of the attestations of missionaries and others, it was no longer agreed (if it ever had been) that being Orthodox and speaking Russian fluently were sufficient to make one Russian, though these components were still considered necessary. Though Katanov's family had been Orthodox for generations and he himself had been educated as a Russian, to people like Malov the depth of his cultural Russification was still suspect. What is most surprising is that such chauvinists interpreted Katanov's deviation from implied norms of scholarship and public life as evidence of a racial incapacity for Russian patriotism. Since Malov's attack also depended on the claim (a less unusual one, in the Russian context) that Katanov was also a religious traitor, an abettor of Islam, it is impossible to say exactly where confessionalism stopped and racialism took over in his understanding of Katanov's identity. Though racialism on the official level was elusive and seldom overt in tsarist Russia, Katanov's case allows us to say with certainty that it was by no means absent. Though Malov's way of thinking certainly had limited resonance even among his academy colleagues, the Ministry of Education and its universities had for years kept Katanov on the margins of the scientific establishment. To Russians, the "alien" East's adoption of the values of Russian science (much less of generic "Western" science) was no more a guarantee of its allegiance than the adoption of the Russian (or "Western") religion. By the twentieth century, science was even beginning to catch up with religion in its claim to be a source of truth about human identities. Such an individual as Katanov, therefore, though he might sometimes be held up as an example of the efficacy of Russification, ultimately had to remain at arm's length both from the control levers of science and from an absolute sense of belonging to Russia. 112 Karimullin, Knigi i liudi; Kokova. Kokova and her husband also made a documentary film about Katanov, Sled Alypa (1991).

Conclusion

Though late tsarist Russia was a diverse, multiethnic empire, its leaders and elites often described it in wishful terms as a homogeneous nation-state in the making. That aspiration was especially pronounced in regard to the eastern part of the empire, where it was often assumed that the process was natural and even inevitable because Russians' essentially European culture was so much stronger and more highly developed than the cultures of "Oriental" or "Asian" minorities. My central concern in this book, therefore, has been the tension between the categories of nation and empire as manifested in views of the peoples of the so-called East and the prospects of their cultural integration into Russia. Russia's relationship with the "East" presented a unique set of problems in the history of modern empires. Like the Habsburg and Ottoman empires, the Russian empire occupied a continuous landmass. The movement of peoples and cultures across the putative East-West or European-Asian divide already had a long history by the nineteenth century, and could not easily be controlled as in the empires of Britain, France, and other European countries, which were frequently separated from their colonies by vast bodies of water. Yet in spite of the structural affinity, Russia's domain was vastly larger and more diverse than the Habsburg empire, and unlike the Ottoman empire, it was infused with the civilizing ideology typical of Christian Europe. At the same time, by the nineteenth century Russians were acutely sensitive to judgments about their precarious place in "European" or "Western" culture. For a country often viewed by Europeans as part of the "Orient," yet which in many ways aspired to be European, its own relationship with peoples farther east could not fail to be affected by this sensitivity. Though autocratic governments may often project consistency and resoluteness in their behavior and policies, I have argued that the views of Russian authorities and society regarding the assimilation of even a small subset of 343

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the empire's peoples, and in a single (though certainly not typical) region, were enormously ambiguous, variable, uncertain, and contested. First of all, defining Russian nationality was by no means a cut-and-dried matter. Different "official" versions combined elements such as religion, language, administration, customs, political loyalty, race, and history in myriad ways. Nor was it easily agreed to what extent, in what order, at what time, and in what places the traits of"Russianness" should be conferred on non-Russian peoples of the empire. A historian might be tempted to simplify matters by distinguishing between the "theory" and "practice" of Russian nationality, or "ideas" and "applications." I find such distinctions to be often illusory, however. "Ideas" about cultural identity often incorporated compromises or other judgments of applicability from their very inception, just as "pragmatic" concerns were often cited to justify decisions made according to controversial principles. This study has identified some parameters of the tsarist system that account for some of the controversy with regard to questions of national and imperial identities. First, tsarist institutions might be historically layered; that is, attitudes that had largely fallen out of favor or fashion were kept alive by institutions and practices still in existence from previous eras. The Muslim Ecclesiastical Administration, for instance, originated at a time when Catherine II had halted missionary pressure on Tatars and turned to regulation and sponsorship of Islam. When the Orthodox Church resumed its missions against Islam during the era of Nicholas I, however, the muftiate remained. Officials in the Ministry of the Interior (the muftiate's parent ministry) likewise remained committed to protecting the practice of Islam, frustrating clergy in their attempts to undermine that religion. Similarly, the innovating missionaries of the nineteenth century had to battle against older, more mechanical approaches to conversion surviving within the church itself. People like Il'minskii, Malov, and Mashanov, in spite of winning church authorities over to the new emphasis on the religious consciousness of converts, were unable to uproot these traditions altogether. As in perhaps any empire, the perspectives of tsarist administrators in the center of the empire sometimes clashed with those of actors in the periphery. In connection with imperial policies overall, St. Petersburg officials sometimes would rather not entrust regional institutions with particular roles, as was the case with the transfer of Kazan University's Eastern Languages Department to Petersburg in the 185os. Actors in the borderlands, for their part, sometimes felt their knowledge of interethnic relations was superior to that of St. Petersburg authorities since they had experienced and witnessed these tensions and rivalries in their daily lives. Thus they often sought more autonomy in local affairs. Center-periphery relations weighed heavily in the work of Il'minskii, who felt strongly that bureaucratic regimentation from St. Petersburg would rob his schools and personnel of their effectiveness. He managed remarkably to fend off attempts by imperial ministries to take control of his various institutions and activities. At the same time, cautious kazantsy

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sometimes did not wish to provide the local initiative that St. Petersburg expected, as when Kazan bishops tried to prevent the Holy Synod from holding a congress of missionaries in 1909-ro. Most likely, the bishops were better attuned than central officials to regional and local implications of the missions' work (though typically, even they had not spent a significant part of their lives in the area). This was also the case in the university's preference not to fill its Turkic-languages chair for much of the late nineteenth century. Nikolai Katanov might have foreseen what he would be up against in this position from the fact that his appointment was imposed on the university by the Ministry of Education. Officials from Kazan and the Volga region, had they been in control of the Ministry of the Interior's 1910 meeting on Islam, might not have handled it as aggressively as PetrA. Stolypin and Aleksei N. Kharuzin did. Officials at different levels also faced different constraints in the opinions and actions they could take. Mikhail Pinegin-a teacher, school administrator, and regional censor-was married illegally to a Tatar for much of his career, a personal experience that doubtless affected his involvement in Muslim affairs. Clearly, he would not have survived professionally as a governor or an education circuit curator under the same circumstances. Likewise, the controversial statements about Russification (both pro- and anti-Russian) made by faculty of the Kazan Teachers' Seminary during the student unrest of r 906 would not have been made by higher officials in the educational system. The views expressed at different times and places also depended on ethnic diversity within Russian officialdom. We have noted that German immigrant scholars and officials such as Karl Fuks and Vasilii Radlov were often less preoccupied than ethnic Russians with the ideology of Russian imperial supremacy (and of course with Russian suspicion ofWestern European culture). And of course inorodtsy working for the tsarist government (such as Shabkhazgirei Akhmerov and Katanov) also tended to hold less rigid views on the relationship between minority and Russian identities. Disagreements between and among institutions and individuals take us only so far in understanding the complex politics of national and imperial identities, however. In addition to such conflicts, we must fully appreciate the ambiguity and uncertainty within individuals themselves. Many of the key figures we have encountered in this book faced logical, moral, or intellectual quandaries so fine and subtle that they frequently contradicted themselves. Although contradictions and ambiguity were sometimes unintentional, in the context of Russian autocratic politics they also could prove quite useful. In the era of Official Nationality, virtually all plans for effecting the East's cultural transformation began with rhetorical homage to the ideal of full assimilation. When it might be necessary to maintain or reinforce distinctions between Russians and others for any reason-as did both Il'minskii's system and the Russian-Tatar schools for Muslims-state authorities justified this as only a short-term deviation from the ideal by invoking the inevitability of

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Russification in the long run. The Il'minskii method, though educating minority peoples in their native languages, was able to win official Holy Synod and Ministry of Education backing because its proponents argued that maximal understanding of the Orthodox religion (the first step toward total Russification) must be aided initially by the limited use of separate languages, but would lead inexorably to linguistic and cultural Russification. Similarly, the Russian-Tatar schools started with the regretful realization that the religious conversion of Muslims was largely impracticable and could lead to serious violence in the Volga region. It was safer and more realistic to begin the transformation of Muslims through the Russian language and secular education, and these forms of cultural change would eventually lead to eager acceptance of the Orthodox religion. In both cases, however, these alleged compromises eventually became objects of ideological devotion to many involved in the projects. Perhaps the ideal of complete Russification was never as widespread as rhetoric made it seem, or maybe agendas were transformed over time through accumulated experience. For Il'minskii, and even more for his successors who were inorodtsy themselves, the use of native languages and native personnel became an ethical requirement, giving the minority peoples themsel~es agency in the process of Russification and allowing them to maintain ethnic identity and pride separate from their identification with Russia. Minority cultures became something not to tolerate but to encourage and celebrate. Without articulating it, Il'minskii seems to have favored a compound national-imperial identity whereby inorodtsy would become Russians but at the same time be able to remain Chuvash, Tatars, or Votiaks (much as the British could also be Irish, Scottish, or Welsh). It is difficult to separate this decentralization of Russian identity from Il'minskii's attempt to decentralize the work of assimilation through his defense of local initiative, which had few parallels in nineteenthcentury Russia. The open avowal of such a motive was not quite acceptable in tsarist politics, especially when it verged on Russophobia. Yet it appears that in many ways the Il'minskii system was designed to distance the inorodtsy from Russians for fear that excessive assimilation could transfer negative qualities onto the new members of the Russian family. This latent aspect of the Il'minskii system made it appealing to many liberals in the late tsarist era (many of them inorodtsy themselves), and eventually to the Bolsheviks as they sought to undo the effects of tsarist "great-power chauvinism." Similarly, in the Russian-Tatar schools the largely secular nature of the curriculum and the primacy of language in assimilation became the positive agenda of a more liberal group of pedagogues such as Radlov (and Muslim reformers such as Akhmerov) who wished to pursue enlightenment in a universalistic fashion that would not alienate Muslims with excessive Russian pretensions (and that might expose Russians to beneficial European trends). The teaching of universalistic values, nevertheless, was not on the government's agenda, at least as far as Muslims were concerned. Radlov also instilled fear in

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tsarist traditionalists by reminding them of Russians' traditional insecurity vis-a-vis Western Europe, so that concern over German and French influence overlapped with hostility to Islam. As with the Il'minskii system, when authorities became aware of these implications they began to withdraw their support, though they ultimately succeeded less to eradicate the Il'minskii system than the Russian-Tatar schools. To many of the figures in this book, Russian nationality was not a perfect template to be replicated in infinite numbers of people; rather, the Russian people or nation was often seen as a work in progress itself, still open to development and improvement. Russian clergy in the nineteenth century still agonized over how to instill the preferred, standard version of Orthodoxy in the Russian population itself, which often contained large patches of preChristian beliefs (dvoeverie), Old Belief, sectarian deviations, or uninformed piety. Inorodtsy transformed into "Russians," then, might emerge even superior to the original model, as advocates of the Il'minskii system frequendy insinuated. Supposedly this was due to their having received religious instruction and liturgy in their vernacular native languages, though undoubtedly, as I have suggested, there was also a less rational tendency to romanticize the inorodtsy as morally unspoiled. It is particularly odd, therefore, that during Il'minskii's time the Russians were never given the Bible or the liturgy in their vernacular language. In a similar way, the development of schools to Russify inorodtsy in the immediate postemancipation period proceeded just as elites were trying to overcome the low literacy and scarce educational opportunities of the Russian narod. In designing the Russian-Tatar schools, Radlov used pedagogical tools and ideas only recendy developed in Russia or imported from Western Europe. As a consequence he was accused of turning the Muslims (whose literacy-albeit in Arabic-already far surpassed the Russians' literacy in Russian) into cosmopolitans and freethinkers instead of devoted Russians. When polemical missionaries exploited fashionable Western European stereotypes about the "Orient," they misrepresented the bases of their own religious faith, failing to persuade Muslims that Russian Orthodoxy was inherendy any more modem than Islam. In all these cases, attempts to assimilate minorities ran the risk of defining Russianness in terms that even the Russians could not fulfill or of elevating the inorodtsy above the Russian population itself. Russians reacted not only against insinuations of inorodets superiority but sometimes against the very project of assimilation. Missionaries frequendy adduced Russian parishes' indifference to and aloofness from new members to explain their failure to make converts into true Russians. One of Il'minskii's initial reasons for training native clergy and teachers, in fact, was the dire shortage of Russian personnel willing to do the work. The Multan case may also have been an outcry against assimilation on the part of rural communities that did not share official enthusiasm about the inorodtsy and did not welcome them as missionaries thought they should. Peasants may have per-

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ceived these groups as too different to imagine becoming one with them. Though ethnic exclusivity in the racial sense was rarely verbalized by Russian officialdom, as we have seen, it was present; undoubtedly it existed among peasants as well. Why was the tsarist state so concerned with the spread of Russian nationality throughout the empire even when its supposed carriers, the Russian narod, frequently demonstrated little interest in it, and when Russian elites felt so little in common with peasant folk? Russians' ascribed cultural dominance in the empire, their supposed power of assimilating minorities (with the state providing the institutional conditions for this power to be wielded over minority groups);was largely a surrogate for the political sovereignty the state was never willing to grant, and a distraction from pressing social and economic problems. This is why the government sought through public scandals such as the Multan and Beilis cases to whip up Russian outrage over the al'leged barbarity of their neighbors within the empire. "Cultural sovereignty," so to speak, was largely illusory not only in anthropological but also in political-legal terms. Ironically, when national minorities complained about their unequal rights in the tsarist system as "national oppression" and imposed "Russification," they often asked for guarantees of civil rights that ethnic Russians enjoyed little more than they did, such as freedoms of worship, association, and expression. Aversion to the assimilation of the Muslim Tatars was especially pervasive. As I have argued, the choice to ignore the "Muslim question" for the time being was the chief reason for the Il'minskii system's more favorable reception by tsarist authorities (and ultimately its greater success among non-Russian subjects) than that of the polemical missions or the Russian-Tatar schools. Russian elites may have perceived the cultural and religious chasm between Tatars and Russians even more acutely than peasants, since the Tatars' corresponding elites set them apart from other regional minorities. To actively pursue Muslims' ass~milation was to stretch the limits of whom Russians were willing to consider as potentially "their own." Many Russians would have accepted the full Russification of the Tatars if it could be achieved by the wave of a magic wand (and as we have seen, some never really renounced such views of conversion), yet felt they could not endure the intermediate stages in a more gradual process. Bishops were disgusted to hear Russian students describe Islamic theology in order to argue against it; amateur social scientists could not abide discussion of Islam's history in the region or the sight of the Arabic script in their publications (even it was necessary for helping their colleagues to understand the Tatars); pedagogues cringed at the thought of Ministry of Education schools offering Muslim religious instruction, even when those classes were financed with separate Tatar funds. The result was a reigning mentality of "all or nothing" regarding the integration of Muslims into Russian society and culture. Il'minskii, his supporters, and his successors (though Bobrovnikov seems to have had a change of

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heart after 1905) quietly pursued this agenda through their influence with D. A. Tolstoi, K. P. Pobedonostsev, and other key figures in St. Petersburg, hoping to undermine any program or institution that treated Islam as legitimate and equivalent to Christianity-the Russian-Tatar schools, the muftiate, the membership of Muslims in local administrative organs, and so on. This powerful coalition played no small part in predetermining the failure of assimilation of Muslims by nonreligious means, and eventually came to full fruition in the 1910 attempt to outlaw not only Russian instruction in Muslim confessional schools but indeed the entire Muslim cultural reform movement (conceivably a boon to the integration of the Muslims, albeit not by religious means), for suspicion that it was a sham designed ultimately to subvert the tsarist political system. The central motif of Christian-Muslim rivalry in the religious and pedagogical spheres also infused the emerging science of ethnography in eastern Russia, which was strongly directed toward local questions and concerns. Mter all, many of the same people involved in assimilation projects were also amateur and professional social scientists. For the most part, they sought to distance their fields of study from Muslim subject matter, using scholarship to celebrate and reinforce the Russian conquest of the Volga region from the Muslims and the assimilation of the Christianized inorodtsy as a fire wall against Islamic expansion. They attached prestige to the length of a culture's existence and the types of artifacts that could prove its longevity, as well as the possibility of a group's having been the "original" inhabitants of a certain area. Our discussion of the "Bulgar question" has shown how the histories of Russians, Tatars, and Chuvash were tailored to the ideological needs of the parties in this rivalry. The ethnographers were by no means wholly oblivious of the intrusion of these subjective concerns into their "science." Most likely, they believed that the certainty of the underlying truth gave them license to consider evidence selectively. Ethnography, while endeavoring to rid Russian society of traditional prejudices regarding the partially Christianized minorities such as the Chuvash, Votiaks, and Cheremis, was a regressive influence as far as attitudes toward Muslims were concerned. If any trend in nineteenth-century ethnography could have offered a meaningful approach to Islam, it was evolutionism. Ivan Smirnov used this Anglo-American school of thought to celebrate Russian cultural expansion in the region. He might also have shown the public that there was no scientific reason to expect Russian culture to prevail over Tatar culture in the Volga region; both were highly developed civilizations that were likely to attract the smaller, less advanced peoples. Yet he too shied away from the very subject matter. Since science remained largely silent on the "Muslim question" (in spite of Katanov's advances in bringing Muslims into local public awareness and into ethnographic circles), Russians by and large continued to regard Islam as a manifestation of evil or unreason. Scholars such as Norman Daniel and Edward Said have already shown that medieval

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religious attitudes survived in Western European studies of the "Orient" in the nineteenth century. It should surprise us less to find this to be the case in Russia, because the tsarist government was still closely affiliated with the Orthodox Church, whereas states such as Britain and France were significantly more separate from religious institutions. The ultimate result of this neglect was that most Russians were oblivious of changes in local Tatar and Muslim life in the late nineteenth century. When they realized suddenly (not until after 1905 for the most part) what sorts of changes were afoot, they were caught unprepared. In a panic exacerbated by political upheaval inside and outside of Russia, authorities reacted in rash and counterproductive ways, showing that their instinct for separating East and West was stronger than their professed aspirations to bridge the two world areas. Only Russian Inissionaries, in the throes of despair, may have begun to think oflslam and Muslims after 1905 in a serious and culturally meaningful way (that is, as a legitimate society) that opened their eyes to current problems in the Russian Orthodox community. Because the church, with its Inissions, had usually been much more dismissive in its approach to Islam than either the MNP or MVD (which had inherited elements of the Catherinian regime for regulating Islam), this is rather unexpected. The tum to the right with regard to Christian and animist Ininorities also appears dramati~ because of educated Russians' earlier tendency to idealize these peoples and place great hopes in their Russification. In this era of mounting social and political discord (as well as broader participation in public discourse), faith in the possibility of voluntary, peaceful cultural assimilation in the Russian direction waned, while belief in the essential and perma- . nent separateness of Russians and non-Russians in the East had increasing appeal. Clearly, religion was also losing its privileged place in conceptions of Russification as Russia generally underwent secularization. The significance of Orthodoxy as a guarantor of political and cultural loyalty (let alone as a precursor to a complete transformation of identity) was no longer taken for granted. Religion was no longer a sufficient condition for assiinilation, and the Russian language was more often deemed necessary. The experience of Katanov, a Christian-hom, fully Russian-educated scholar whose non-European fainily heritage was evident in his physical appearance, even suggests that perhaps race was gaining new importance in the definition of Russianness. It is possible that attitudes toward Muslims became racialized as well, and that those attitudes may account for the widespread distrust even of those showing interest in cultural rapprochement with Russians, and for the growing conviction that Muslims were constitutionally incapable of adapting to "Western" culture. The most virulent chauvinism came from those who had most believed in the Russian people's capacity to supplant other cultures, and who were disappointed by what meager progress they saw, if any. Given the great, perhaps unreasonable hope and confidence some Russians had invested in the assimi-

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lation of Christian and animist non-Russians, such disappointment was all but inevitable. For some, though, it was not that inorodtsy had failed to be assimilated into Russian life and culture; it was that they were integrated too well, so far departing from their supposed purity and innocence that they became political or social dissidents. In the eyes of the most conservative Russians, the image of Christian and animist inorodtsy converged with that of the Muslims. People such as Evfimii Malov envisioned the various peoples to be united in their hostility to Russia, and attempted to adopt new separatist policies toward non-Muslim minorities. Malov's diaries are evidence of how much had changed in the half-century between 186o and 1910 (for the older Malov, inorodtsy would certainly no longer adorn the tops of cakes as they had done in the 186os). Because of the intervention of world war and revolution, we will never know the potential impact of this drift in attitudes. The message of the Multan case was quite different. The Votiaks, a FinnoU gric group that had been treated endearingly by Russian missionaries and pedagogues for decades, came to be seen as dangerous because of the persistence of elements of their traditional religion. This view of the inorodtsy resonated loudly even among Russians who had little or no contact with these peoples. Taking place while the Il'minskii system was fighting for its life against the school of "transitive" or aggressive Russifiers, the case may have been an indirect expression of rage against what was sometimes seen as missionaries' overly indulgent attitude toward native cultures. Ultimately, however, Vladimir G. Korolenko and other liberals won the acquittal of the defendants by stressing a version of Russian identity that valued symbiosis and affinity with the Christianizing inorodtsy instead of insistence on Russian superiority. Many of the controversies we have explored in the book show a symbiotic or even dialectical relationship between some Russians' urges to assimilate non-Russians and their reluctance to do so. In other words, Russians would not always embrace complete Russification even if it could be achieved very easily. For many, the ambition to absorb outside groups was a key source of national identity and pride. Yet the imminently successful cultural assimilation of the "others," in the long run, could be as threatening to Russians as the failure of such assimilation. Though Russification of the empire was in one sense the fulfillment of Russian nationhood, it also threatened to obliterate the nation by making its imperial status obsolete. What would Russia be, after all, once it had remade the "primitive" and "unenlightened" peoples of the East in its own image?

Selected Bibliography

Archival Sources Rossiiskii Gosudarstvennyi Istoricheskii Arkhiv, St. Petersburg (RGIA) f. 684 P. I. Raev f. 733 Ministerstvo narodnogo prosveshcheniia: Departament narodnogo prosveshcheniia f. 796 Kantseliariia Sviateishego Sinoda f. 797 Kantseliariia Ober-prokurora Sinoda f. 799 Khoziaistvennoe upravlenie Sinoda f. 821 Ministerstvo vnutrennikh del: Departament dukhovnykh del inostrannykh ispovedanii f. 846 Georgievskie f. 922 V G. Glazov f. 1109 A. V Preobrazhenskii f.1119 S. V Smolenskii f. 1153 Gosudarstvennyi Sovet: Departament promyshlennosti, nauk i torgovli f. 1284 Ministerstvo vnutrennikh del: Departament obshchikh del f. 1363 Ugolovnyi kassatsionnyi departament Senata f. 1405 Ministerstvo iustitsii f. 1569 P. P. lzvol'skii f. 1574 K. P. Pobedonostsev Arkhiv Rossiiskoi Akademii Nauk (Sanktpeterburgskoe Otdelenie), St. Petersburg (ARAN [Spb]) f. 2 Kantseliariia f. 24 K. S. Veselovskii f. 3 5 V I. Lamanskii f. 68 V V Bartol' d f. 102 I. A. Boduen-de-Kurtene f. 116 F. I. U spenskii f. 134 A. A. Shakhmatov f. 148 Russkii komitet dlia izucheniia Srednei i Vostochnoi Azii

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Selected Bibliography

f. 177 V. V. Radlov f. 202 E. K. Pekarskii f. 777 V. R. Rozen f. 782 A. N. Samoilovich f. 811 P. N. Luppov f. 849 D. K. Zelenin f. I079 S. E. Malov Rossiiskaia Natsional'naia Biblioteka im. Saltykova-Shchedrina, St. Petersburg (RNB), Otdel rukopisei f. 621 A. N. Pypin f. 671 A. N. Samoilovich f. 781 I. I. Tolstoi f. 828 M.G. Khudiakov f. 874 S. N. Shubinskii f. 1004 Kovolevskie f. I I 79 A. I. Aleksandrov Leningradskoe Otdelenie Instituta Vostokovedeniia, St. Petersburg, Otdel rukopisei f. 28 D. A. Klements f. 50 V. D. Smirnov f. I 3 I R. F akhretdinov Gosudarstvennyi Arkhiv Rossiiskoi Federatsii, Moscow (GARF) f. 102 Ministerstvo vnutrennikh del: Departament politsii f. I09 Ministerstvo vnutrennikh del: Tret'e otdelenie zhandarmerii, Sekretnyi otdel Rossiiskaia Gosudarstvennaia Biblioteka, Moscow (RGB), Otdel rukopisei f. 361 I. Ia. Iakovlev f. 424 N. I. ll'Ininskii f. V. G. Korolenko Natsional'nyi Arkhiv Respubliki Tatarstan, Kazan (NART) f. 1 Kantseliariia Kazanskogo gubernatora f. 2 Kazanskoe gubernskoe pravlenie f. 4 Kazanskaia dukhovnaia konsistoriia f. 10 Kazanskaia dukhovnaia akademiia f. 92 Popechitel' Kazanskogo uchebnogo okruga f. 93 Kazanskaia uchitel'skaia seminariia f. 142 Kazanskaia tatarskaia uchitel'skaia shkola f. 160 Direktor narodnykh uchilishch Kazanskogo uchebnogo okruga po Kazanskoi gubernii f. 420 Kazanskii vremennyi komitet po delam pechati f. 780 Kazanskii gorodskoi nauchno-promyshlennyi muzei f. 967 M. A. Mashanov f. 968 N. I. Il'Ininskii f. 969 N. F. Katanov f. 977 Kazanskii universitet Biblioteka im. N. I. Lobachevskogo pri Kazanskom Universitete, Kazan (BLKU), Otdel rukopisei f. 7 E. A. Malov

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and separate items not contained in fondy. Muzei Istorii Kazanskogo Universiteta, Kazan (MIKU) f. N. F. Katanova Tsentral'nyi Muzei Tatarstana, Kazan (TsMT), Otdel rukopisei f. Obshchestva arkheologii, istorii i etnografii pri Kazanskom universitete

Contemporary Periodicals Deiatel' Etnograficheskoe obozrenie (EO) Gorodskoi i sel'skii uchitel' Istoricheskii vestnik (IV) Izvestiia Akademii nauk Izvestiia Imperatorskogo arkheologicheskogo obshchestva Izvestiia Obshchestva arkheologii, istorii i etnografii pri Kazanskom universitete (IOAIE) Izvestiia po Kazanskoi eparkhii (IKE) Kazanskie gubernskie vedomosti (KGV) Kazanskii telegraf (KI) Kamsko-volzhskii krai (KVK) Mirislama Missionerskoe obozrenie (MO) Moskovskie vedomosti (MV) Nachal'noe obuchenie Narod Narodnaia shkola Ni'JJa Novae vremia Obnovlenie Okrainy Rossii (OR) Pravoslavnyi blagovestnik (PB) Pravoslavnyi sobesednik (PS) Russkaia mysl' Russkaia shkola (RSh) Russkie vedomosti (RV) Russkii vestnik Russkoe slovo Sanktpeterburgskaia gazeta Sanktpeterburgskie vedomosti (SPV) Sibirskii vestnik Strannik Terdzhiman-Perevodchik Tserkovno-obshchestvennaia zhizn' (TsO Zh) Uchenye zapiski Kazanskogo universiteta (UZKU) Vera i tserkov' Vestnik Evropy (VE) Viatskii krai (VK)

356

Selected Bibliog;raphy

Volzhskii vestnik (VV) Vostochnoe obozrenie Zapiski Imperatorskogo russkogo geograficheskogo obshchestva po otdeleniiu etnografii Zapiski vostochnogo otdeleniia Russkogo arkheologicheskogo obshchestva (ZVORAO) Zhurnal Ministerstva narodnogo prosveshcheniia (ZhMNP) Zhivaia starina (ZhS)

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- - . "K voprosu o perevodakh na inorodcheskie iazyki." IKE, I904, I482-86. - - . "Nuzhny li tak nazyvaemye protivomusul'manskie i protivoiazycheskie eparkhial'nye missionery v guberniiakh Evropeiskoi Rossii?" PS, February I905, 30I-I6. - - . Obuchenie russkomu iazyku inorodtsev. Moscow, I894· --.Po povodu broshiury protoiereia A. V. Smirnova. Kazan, I905. - - . Po povodu otcheta o deiatel'nosti Bratstva Sv. Guriia za tridtsat' sed'moi (1903-4) bratskii god. Kazan, I905. --."Po povodu stat'i: 'K voprosu o bolee zhelatel'noi i tselesoobraznoi postanovke tserkovnoprikhodskoi i shkol'noi missii stedi naseleniia inorodcheskogo srednego Povolzh'ia.' "MO, January I9oo, 6o-67; February I9oo, 246-49. - - . Shkol'naia set' Kazanskoi gubernii. Kazan, I 905. - - . "Sovremennoe polozhenie uchebnogo dela u inorodcheskikh plemen Vostochnoi Rossii." ZhMNP, May I9I7, 5I-84. Bogaevskii, P.M. "K Multanskomu delu: Sushchestvuiut li chelovecheskie zhertvoprinosheniia u votiakov?" RV,Nov. 7, I895· - - . Multanskoe "molenie" votiakov v svete etnograficheskikh dannykh. Moscow, I896. - - . "Ocherki religioznykh predstavlenii votiakov." EO, January-March I89o, II7-34i April-June I890, n-90i October-December I89o, 42-60. --."Po povodu statei I. N. Smimova (Pis'mo v redaktsiiu)." KVK, Dec. I4, I896. --.Review of Votiaki, by I. N. Smimov. EO, January-March I89o, 215-20.

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PS, July-August I905, 49I-5o6. - - . Religiozno-nravstvennoe sostoianie kreshchennykh tatar. Kazan, I 87 5. - - . "Sovremennoe sostoianie tatar mukhammedan ... " PS, February I911, 253-82; March I911, 40I-I4. - - . "Sovremennye dvizheniia v islame." TsOZh, Dec. I6, I905. Mazitova, N. A. Izuchenie blizhnego i srednego vostoka v Kazanskom universitete: 1-ia polovina XIX veka. Kazan, I972. McCarthy, Frank T. "The Kazan Missionary Congress." CMRS I4 (I973): 308-22. Melioranskii, P. M. "Katanov, Nikolai Fedorovich." In S. A. Vengerov, Kritikobiograficheskii slovar' russkikh pisatelei i uchenykh, 6: I 32-45. St. Petersburg, I 904Mende, Gerhard von. Der nationale Kampf der Russlandtiirken. Berlin, I 9 36. [Merjani, Shihabeddin] Shikhab-ud-din Baga-ud-dinov. "Ocherk istorii bolgarskogo i kazanskogo tsarstv." In Trudy IV Arkheologicheskogo S"ezda, I:4o-5o. Kazan, I884. Metcalf, Barbara D. Islamic Revival in British India: Deoband, I86o-Igoo. Princeton, I982. Mikhailov, S.M. Trudy po etnografii i istorii russkogo, chuvashskogo i mariiskogo narodov. Cheboksary, I972. Mikhailova, S.M. Kazanskii universitet i prosveshchenie narodov Povolzh'ia. Kazan, I979· - - . Kazanskii universitet v dukhovnoi kul'ture narodov vostoka Rossii. Kazan, I99I. Mikhailovskaia, A. I. "Etnograficheskaia rabota v Priural'e i Povolzh'e v kontse XIX-nachala XX v. (nauchno-promyshlennye vystavki)." In Ocherki istorii russkoi etnografii,fol'kloristiki i antropologii, vol. 9· Moscow, I982. Mikhailovskii, V. M. "Otkrytoe pis'mo g. prof. I. N. Smirnovu." VV, Apr. 23, I896. Mikheev, I. S. Buddisty li votiaki? Kazan, I90I. - - . "Votskie perevody i uchitelia." RSh, June I900, I93-205. Mikke, P. "Kazanskaia uchitel'skaia seininariia." KT, Sept. 30, I904. --."Po chuvashskim prikhodam." IKE, I904, 702-26. Miropiev, M. "K voprosu o prosveshchenii nashikh inorodtsev." RSh, May-June I90I, I2I-36. - - . "Kakie nachala dolzhny byt' polozheny v osnovu obrazovaniia russkikh inorodtsev-musul'man?" Rus' I7 (I884): 24-41. Miropiev, M. A., ed. Zhurnaly zasedanii s"ezda direktorov i inspektorov narodnykh uchilishch orenburgskogo uchebnogo okruga v g. Ufa, II-I6 iiunia I9I2 goda. Ufa, I9I3. Miropol'skii, A. Otvety na nedoumeniia i voprosy, predlozhennye mokhammedanami otnositel'no nekotorykh predmetov khristianskogo veroucheniia. zd ed. Moscow, I897· Molostvova, E. V. "Vaisov Bozhii polk." Mir islama I (I9I2): I43-52· Mozharovskii, A. A. Izlozhenie khoda missionerskogo de/a po prosveshcheniiu kazanskikh inorodtsev s I552 po I867 goda (= Chtenia v Imperatorskom obshchestve istorii i drevnostei rossiiskikh pri Moskovskom Universitete I). Moscow, I88o. - - . Staraia Kazanskaia Akademiia. Moscow, I 877. Mukhammetdinov, R. F. Zarozhdenie i evoliutsiia tiurkizma. Kazan, I996. Mukhitdinov, N. "Proekty organizatsii srednei shkoly evropeiskogo tipa dlia tatar v XIX v." Vestnik nauchnogo obshchestva tatarovedeniia, September-October I930, 105-56. N., S. E. "K voprosu o bolee zhelatel'noi i tselesoobraznoi postanovke tserkovnoprikhodskoi i shkol'noi Inissii sredi naseleniia inorodcheskogo srednego Povolzh'ia." MO, November I899, 436-5I; December I899, 576-88. Nasyrov, K. "Pover'ia ia obriady kazanskikh tatar, obrazovavshiesia mimo vliiania na zhizn' ikh sunnitskogo magometanstva." Zapiski IRGO 6 (I88o): 24I-70.

368

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Nazipova, G. R. "Kazanskii gorodskoi muzei i ego rol' v kul'turnoi zhizni VolzhskoKamskogo kraia (konets XIX-nachalo XX vv.)." Cand. diss., Kazan University, I991. Nikol'skii, N. "Mully i intelligentsiia u kazanskikh tatar." TsOZh, Dec. I6, I905. Ochevidets. "Razlichnye suzhdeniia o sviashchennikakh iz inorodtsev." PB 3 (I9oo): 3I0-I5. Ogloblin, N. "K multanskomu voprosu." IV, May I897, 52 s-35· "0 Kazanskoi inorodcheskoi seminarii." KT, Mar. 2I, I910. "Opredeleniia Sviateishego Sinoda." IKE, I883, I32-35. 0 prosveshchenii privolzhskikh inorodtsev: ;a nomerov zhurnala "Sotrudnik Bratstva Sviat. Guriia." Kazan, I9IO.

Ostroumov, N. P. "K istorii musul'manskogo obrazovatel'nogo dvizheniia v Rossii v XIX i XX stoletiiakh." Mir Islama 2 (May I9I3): 302-26. --.Koran i progress. Tashkent, I90I. - - . "Vospominaniia o missionerskom protivo-musul'manskom otdelenii pri Kazanskoi Dukhovnoi Akademii." PS, January I892, I3I-42 (2d pagination). - - . "Zametka ob otnoshenii mokhammedanstva k obrazovaniiu kreshchenykh tatar." ZhMNP I6I (May I872): 87-IIO. Ostrovskii, D. "Nachal'nye narodnye uchilishcha kazanskoi gubernii." ZhMNP I58 (November I87I): 64-83; (December I87I): I62-90. P., D. "K voprosu o prosveshchenii tatar." Nachal'noe obuchenie 8 (I9IO): 247-55. "Pamiati I. N. Smirnova." UZKU, I904, 23-60. Pankratov, A. "Spasli Rossiiu." Russkoe slovo, June 24, I910. Patenko, F. A. Po povodu stat'i E. F. Bellina, "Sudebno-meditsinskaia ekspertiza v dele multanskikh votiakov, obviniaemykh v prinesenii chelovecheskoi zhertvy 'iazycheskim bogam.' "Kharkov, I 896. Pelenskii,Jaroslav. Russia and Kazan: Conquest and Imperial Ideology (I438-I56os). The

Hague and Paris, I974·

Pervyi shag: Literaturnyi sbornik. Kazan, I 876. Pervyi Vsechuvashskii K:raevedcheskii S"ezd (15-21 iiunia 1928 g. v g. Cheboksarakh ChASSR). Cheboksary, I929. Pierce, Richard. Russian Central Asia: A Study in Colonial Rule. Berkeley, I96o. Pinegin, M. N. Kazan' vee proshlom i nastoiashchem. St. Petersburg, I89o. - - . "Svadebnye obriady kazanskikh tatar." IOAIE 9 (I89I): I-20. Pittore, Il. Review of Multanskoe "molenie" votiakov v svete etnograficheskikh dannykh, by P. Bogaevskii. VK, Apr. 30, I896. Pobedonostsev, K. P. "lz vospominanii oN. I. Il'minskom." Russkii vestnik, February

I892, I42-52. - - . "Perepiska K. P. Pobedonostseva." Russkii arkhiv, May I9I5, 68-III. - - . Pis'ma k Aleksandru III. 2 vols. Moscow, I92 5-26. "Po inorodcheskomu voprosu." Deiatel', September I909, I37-50. Pokrovskii, I. "K stoletiiu kafedry tatarskogo iazyka v dukhovno-uchebnykh zavedeniiakh g. Kazani (I8oo-I90o gg.)." PS, May I9oo, 576-609. - - . "Pamiati professora Nikolaia Fedorovicha Katanova." IOAIE 32 (I922): 245-59. Politicheskaia zhizn' russkikh musul'man do fevral'skoi revoliutsii. Oxford, I 987. Polozov, A. "Nikolai Ivanovich Il'minskii." Vera i tserkov', March I899, 458-75. Polunov, A. Iu. Pod vlast'iu ober-prokurora: Gosudarstvo i tserkov v epokhu Aleksandra III. Moscow, I996.

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"Po povodu polemiki g.g. Mandel'shtama i Smirnova." KVK, Dec. 12, r896. Poplavskii, I. "Po povodu vozrazheniia g. Luppova." SPV, Apr. 26, 1896. - - . "Votiatskie bogi i zhertvy im prinosimye." SPV,Feb. 19, 1896. "Postanovleniia Soveta Ministra Narodnogo Prosveshcheniia." ZhMNP 148 (April r87o): 47-63. Potanin, G. N. "Putevye zametki ot Novocherkasska do Kazani." In Pervyi shag: Literaturnyi sbornik, 287-335. Kazan, r876. Powell, Avril A. Muslims and Missionaries in Pre-Mutiny India. London, 1993· Pozdneev, A. "Eshche po voprosu o goslednikh izdaniiakh Pravoslavnogo Missionerskogo Obshchestva na kalmytskom iazyke." ZhMNP 302 (November r895): 158-72. - - . "Poslednie izdaniia Pravoslavnogo Missionerskogo Obshchestva na razgovornom kalmytskom iazyke." ZhMNP 298 (March 1895): 196-222. Proiskhozhdenie kazanskikh tatar: Materialy sessii Otdeleniia istorii i filosofii AN SSSR. Kazan, 1948. "Protokoly zasedanii Soveta Kazanskoi dukhovnoi akademii za I9II g." PS, 1913, supp., r-r6o. Pypin, A. N. Istoriia russkoi etnografii. 4 vols. St. Petersburg, r89o--9r. Radlov, V. V. Iz Sibiri: Stranitsy dnevnika. Moscow, 1989. Reddaway, W. F., ed. Documents of Catherine the Great. Cambridge, 193 r. Riasanovsky, Nicholas V. Nicholas I and Official Nationality in Russia, r8zs-r855· Berkeley, 1967. - - . "Russia and Asia: Two 19th-Century Views." California Slavic Studies I (r96o): 17o--8r. Rittikh, A. F. Materialy dlia etnografii Rossii: Kazanskaia guberniia. 2 pts. Kazan, r87o. Rodinson, Maxim e. Europe and the Mystique ofIslam. Trans. Roger Veinus. Seattle, I 99 r. Rogger, Hans. Jewish Policies and Right-Wing Politics in Imperial Russia. Berkeley, 1986. - - . "Nationalism and the State: A Russian Dilemma." Comparative Studies in Society and History 4 (1961-62): 253-55· Rorlich, Azade-Ayse. "One or More Tatar Nations?" In Muslim Communities Reemerge, ed. Andreas Kappeler et al., 61-79. Durham, N.C., 1994. - - . The Volga Tatars: A Profile in National Resilience. Stanford, 1986. Rozen, V. R. "0 vostochnom fakul'tete i vostochnykh kafedrakh." ZhMNP 273 Ganuary I89I): 159-65. - - . Review of Moiseevo zakonodatel'stvo po ucheniiu Biblii i po ucheniiu Korana and 0 tainstvennoi knige gillion, by E. A. Malov. ZVORAO 8 (1894): 362-67. - - . Review of Ob Adame po ucheniiu Biblii i po ucheniiu Korana, by E. A. Malov. ZVORAO r (r887): 38-45· - - . Review of Mukhammedanskaia kosmogoniia, by A. Arkhangel'skii. ZVORAO 4 (r889): 422-25. Rozhdestvin, A. S. N I. Il'minskii i ego sistema inorodcheskogo obrazovaniia v Kazanskom krae. Kazan, 1900. - - . "Vynuzhdennoe ob"iasnenie." KT, Nov. 25, 1906. "Russkii iazyk v inorodcheskoi shkole." MV, Oct. 19, 1903. Rybakov, S. Dukhovenstvo sredi kreshchenykh inorodtsev. St. Petersburg, 1900. - - . "Prosveshchenie inorodtsev po vozzreniiam N. I. ll'minskogo." Gorodskoi i sel'skii uchitel', May 1897, 26-31. - - . Russkoe prosveshchenie i magometanskaia propaganda v sele B. Gondyre. St. Peters-

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burg, 1900. S., S. A. "Nravstvennyi kharakter Mukhammeda." PS, February 1887, 154-89. S-v, V. "lz vospominanii inorodcheskogo uchitelia." PB 3 (1914): 91-95. Said, Edward W. Orienta/ism. New York, 1978. Santa Maria, Phillip. The Question of Elementary Education in the Third Russian State Duma, 1907-I9I2. Lewiston, N.Y., 1990. Saunders, David B. "Historians and Concepts of Nationality in Early NineteenthCentury Russia." Slavonic and East European Review 6o Qanuary 1982): 44-62. Saussay, Jean. "Il'minskij et Ia politique de russification des Tatars, 1865-1891." CMRS 8 Quly-September 1967): 404-25. Sboev, V. A. Issledovaniia ob inorodtsakh Kazanskoi gubernii: Zametki o chuvashakh. Kazan, 1856. - - . 0 byte krest'ian v Kazanskoi gubernii. Kazan, 1856. Sbornik dokumentov i statei po voprosu ob obrazovanii inorodtsev. St. Petersburg, 1869. Schamiloglu, Uli. "The Formation of a Tatar Historical Consciousness: Sihabaddin Marcani and the Image of the Golden Horde." CAS 9 (1990): 39-49· Semenov, V. P., ed. Rossiia: Polnoe geograficheskoe opisanie nashego otechestva. Vol. 6, Srednee i nizhnee Povolzh'e i Zavolzh'e. St. Petersburg, 1901. Semenov-Tian-Shanskii, P. P., ed. Povolzh'e: Priroda, byt, khoziaistvo. Leningrad, 1928. Serafim, leromonakh. Pervyi v Rossii po vneshnei missii Kazanskii Missionerskii S"ezd, 13-26 iiunia 1910 goda. 3 vols. Nizhnii Novgorod, 1911-12. Setiila, E. N. "Vostochnye finny: lstoriko-etnograficheskie ocherki I. N. Smirnova." In Otchet o tridtsat' vos'mom prisuzhdenii nagrad grafa Uvarova. N.p., n.d. Seton-Watson, Hugh. The Russian Empire, I8oi-1917. Oxford, 1967. Shaliapin, F. I. Stranitsy iz moei zhizni. Leningrad, 1926. Shatenshtein, L. S. Multanskoe delo, 1892-1896 gg. Izhevsk, 1960. Shestakov, P. D. "Graf Dmitrii Andreevich Tolstoi kak ministr narodnogo prosveshcheniia." Russkaia starina, February 1891, 387-405; April 1891, 183-210. - - . "Kto byli drevnie Bulgary?" IOAIE 3 (188o-82): 6o-72. Shevchenko, Thor. "Muscovy's Conquest of Kazan: Two Views Reconciled." SR 26 (1967): 541-47· Shishkin, V.I. Kazanskaia periodicheskaia pechat'. Russkie izdaniia ISII-1916: Bibliograficheskii ukazatel'. Kazan, 1985. Shmurlo, E. F. Vos'moi arkheologicheskii s"ezd (9-24 ianvaria I 890 goda). St. Petersburg, 1890. Shnirelman, Victor A. Who Gets the Past? Competition for Ancestors among Non-Russian Intellectuals in Russia. Washington and Baltimore, 1996. Shofman, A. S., and G. F. Shamov. "Vostochnyi razriad Kazanskogo universiteta." In Ocherki po istorii russkogo vostokovedeniia. Moscow, 1956. Shpilevskii, S. M. Drevnie goroda i drugie bulgarsko-tatarskie pamiatniki v Kazanskoi gubernii. Kazan, 1877. - - . "Gorod Bulgar." In Trudy IV Arkheologicheskogo S"ezda, 1:21-39. Kazan, 1884. - - . "0 zadachakh deiatel'nosti Kazanskogo Obshchestva arkheologii, istorii i etnografii i o vozmozhnom sodeistvii so storony zhitelei mestnogo kraia." IOAIE 3 (188o-82): 3-32. Shternberg, L. Ia. "Iz zhizni i deiatel'nosti V. V. Radlova (Berlinskii, altaiskii i kazanskii periody)." ZhS, 1909, i-xxv.

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371

Slezkine, Yuri. "Naturalists versus Nations: Eighteenth-Century Russian Scholars Confront Ethnic Diversity." In Russia's Orient: Imperial Borderlands and Peoples, I?OO-I9I7, ed. Daniel R. Brower and Edward]. Lazzerini, 27-57. Bloomington, Ind., I997· - - . "The USSR as a Communal Apartment, or How a Socialist State Promoted Ethnic Particularism." SR 53 (Summer I994): 4I4-52· Slocum, John W "The Boundaries of National Identity: Religion, Language and National Politics in Late Imperial Russia." Ph.D. diss., University of Chicago, I993· - - . "Who, and When, Were the Inorodtsy? The Evolution of the Category of 'Aliens' in Imperial Russia." Russian Review 57, no. 2 (April I998): I73- 170, 187 Sablukov, G. S., 54-6o, 63, 66, 86-88, 99, 107, 109, 117 Sacrifice rituals, 28, 33, 47, 199; in evolution of religion, 202-5. See also Animism; Human sacrifice Said, Edward, 2, 95, 294-95, 349 St. Gurii Brotherhood: and Holy Synod, 121-22; and Il'minskii schools, 122, 124, u8; and Orthodox Missionary Society, 121-22; and translations, 61, 69, 126-27, 22 5, 327; as battleground over Il'minskii system, 233-34,237-38, 239, 241; founding of, 66, 88, 120; number of schools, 122, 134· See also 11' minskii schools St. Petersburg: and Multan case, 21 s; as "window on West," s; censorship in, 330; Education Circuit, 122, z86; MNP conference in (1905), 246-49; mosque in, 296; Muslim Congresses in, 267-68; Public Library, 185. See also Governing Senate; Holy Synod; Ministry of Education; Ministry of Internal Affairs; Special Conference on Islam St. Petersburg University, 95, 98, 246; Department of Oriental (Eastern) Languages,z4,69n83, 148,163,177, 312, 314-16, 344 St. Stefan of Perm, 52 Samara, 26, 30, 33, 34, 124 Sarapul Circuit Court, 199-201, 208 Saratov, 33,34,54, 124,252,306 Sboev, V. A., 161, 166-67 School inspectors, 35-36, 90, 127-30, 136, 140, 238-39, 241 Seminaries, theological, 49, 51, 55, 83; Eastern languages in, so, 52, 54-55, 93;

missionary studies in, 66, 86, 93; nonRussians in, 232 Seminaries, teacher. See Chuvash Teachers' School; Kazan School for Baptized Tatars; Kazan Teachers' Seminary; Kazan Tatar Teachers' School Senate. See Governing Senate Seoul, 22 3, 230 Separatism, ethnic, I37, 231-33, 244, 252-53, 325-26, 35I; Il'minskii system and, I29-30, 228, 23I,239, 249-52, 257-59· See also Chauvinism; Russophobia Serfs and serfdom, I9, 20, 23 Shakirds, 23, 52; in jadid movement, 264-66, 32 5; in polemics, 99-105. See also Islamic schools Shaliapin, F., 42 Shamanism, 33, I62, I66, I]8, I95, I99, 226, 3I I, 3I2, 326. See also Animism; Polytheism Shchapov, A., 3Io Shestakov, P. D., 38n92, 72, 75, I35, I48, I 5o; and Bulgar controversy, I83, I87, I9I; and Il'minskii system, I 35, I48; and Kazan Education Circuit, u8, 12o-22, I 52; and Russian-Tatar rivalry, I 35-36; and St. Gurii Brotherhood, 120, I 52 Shishmanov, I. D., I92 Shpilevskii, S.M., I8I, I9I Siberia, 3, 8m9, I8, 30, 3I, 49-50, 76, 90, 93, I4o, I59, I62, I89, 3I2;as punishment, 28-29, 40, 200, 210; Il'minskii system and, ]I, 125, 126, I3l; Katanovand, 313-I4, 3I], 3I9, 323; Orthodox missions in, 52, 73-74, 30I, JII; Radlovin, I40, I44 Siberia, peoples and languages of: Chukchi, 2u; Khakasses, 3II; Samoed, I27; Siberian Tatars, 22m8; Soiots, 32 3; Tungus, I27; Uriankhai (Tuvinian), 3I8 Simbirsk, 30, 3Ill6I, 34· 35· 65, 69, n, I22, I24; Teachers' Seminary. See Chuvash Teachers' School Simferopol, I39, I43 Skariatin, N. Ia., 38, I35 Skvortsov, V. M., 232, 286, 302-3, 305-6, 308 Slavic languages and peoples, I8, 32, I]O; and Bulgar controversy, I86-9o. See also Russians Slavophilism, I-2, I90, 262 Smirnov, I. N., I3; and civic activism, I]I-]3; and evolutionism, I73-76, I]8, I94, 22o-2 I; and Multan case, 202-2 I4, 2I6-222;background, I]I, 309-IO; ethnographic methods, I]I-73, I74, 208, 213; in OAIE, I]I, 320; on assimilation,

178, 301, 349; on Cheremises, 172, I74; on Finnic peoples, I]I-]6, 203-5; on Mordvins, I]2, I74; on Permiaks, I]2, 176, 2o6; on Tatars, I]8, I94, 349; on Votiaks, 172, I74, 205-6, 2o8-I4, 2I6-r7; political views, I75-76, 220n9o; publications, I72-73 Smirnov, V. D., I48, r56, 294, 312, 330, 333 Smolenskii, S. V., 127, r69, 241 Society for Archeology, History and Ethnography (OAIE, at Kazan University), I69-]I, rn, I79-80, 2I3; and Bulgar controversy, I8I, I83, I85, r87, 190, 192, 194; Katanov and, 317-r8, 32o-2I, 324,327-28,338-340 Sollogub, v. A., I-2, I 58 Solov'ev, A. T., 327 Solov'ev, E. T., 42-43, 205 Soslovie, 3 I, 77, 82-84 Soviet Union, 8, 87n5, 193ni29, 196, 218, 235fl44; indigenization policy, 77, 83-84 Special Committee for Press Affairs (Kazan), 329-34 Special Conference on Islam in the Volga Region (I910), 285-96, 307, 329, 333, 334· 345 Spencer, Herbert, 173, 176 Speshkov, S. F., 239-4I, 246-48, 252, 262, 286 State Council, 290o-91 State Duma, 254, 268-70, 284, 285n69; education bills in, 29o-9I; Kazan Russian deputy in, 272-73; Tatar deputies in, 268-69,27I-73, 287,293,296 State peasants, r 9, 20, 29, II 9 Stolypin, P. A., 285-86, 291-92, 296, 308, 329· 345 Sufism, r84, 149m43 Sukhodoev, V. 1., 2ro Survivals, 202-7, 21o-II, 217, 2I9n89 Sviiazhsk, I 5-I6, 32 Syrdanov, Sh. Sh., 270 Tashkent, 26n38, 90, 99 Tatar language, 23, I3o, I45, 279; Il'minskii translations in, 52, 82, 91, I27; in Kazan gymnasia, 49-50, I46; in Kazan Tatar Teachers' School, I45-46, I48; in Kazan Theological Academy, 5o-55; in Orthodox seminaries, 54-55;jadid movement and, I4o, 264-65 Tatar literature, 24, I4I, 27I: censorship of, 147-48, 329-34; for Russian-Tatar schools, I2], 139· 142, I46, I5I-52; Il'minskii and, I47-48, 15I-52; Katanov's reviews of, 324-25, 327-28; periodicals, 26,41, I55,268, 279-Bo;

388

Index

Tatar literature (cont.) Radlov and, I47-48; secularization and growth of, 265-66; statistics, 265-66, 268 Tatar Teachers' Schools, I39· I5I, 288. See also Kazan Tatar Teachers' School Tatarization, 27, 30, 37, 8o, I]8, 240, 30I; ofChuvashes, I9I, 297; ofKazakhs, 59; of Muslims, 287; of Russians, I3o, 23y Tatars, Volga (Kazan), I, 3, 4, I3, I8, 22, 43, 44, yo; Christian proselytizing of, I6, 20; clothing and grooming as ethnic identifiers, 36-37, 44; demonized, 8o, 107, 108; economic conditions, 42-44, 92ni8; ethnic origins of, 4, I84-86; ethnography of, I65-66, I]3, I77-8o, IY4i fear of Christianization, I42-43, 237; in industry and commerce, 22, 23-24, 26-2],4I•43•44• I35-36; intelligentsia, I3], 267; literacy of, I37i peasants, 34-39, 42-43, 57; population data, 3I-33, I43i relations with Russians, 4o-46, 87-88, y8-115, I35-36; religion of, 5, I 84-8 5; similarities to Russians, 4, 40; unrest, 26, 38, 43, I42-43, 237; usage ofethnonym, I6-I8, 30, 33n73, I84, I86. See also Islamic schools; Russian-Tatar relations; Russian-Tatar schools; Tatar language; Tatar literature Tatars, Baptized. See Kriashens Tatarstan, I I, I65 Taxes, 20, 42, I40, 272, 332 Teachers, non-Russian (inorodets): I3, 44, 128; conference of, 240; conflicts with Russians, 249-52; in I87o regulations, I z 3-24; statistics, I 34; training of, I 20 Teregulov, Ibragim, I46 Theological academies, 6, 49, 67, 8I, yr. See also Kazan Theological Academy Tikhonov, A., I I 3 Timofeev, V. T.: and Kriashen schools, 6o, 6I, 64, 88, II8-I2o, I25, I33i as priest, 65, 113-I4, 242; at Kazan Theological Academy, 6o, 62, 9I, 118 Tobol'sk, 90, II4, 3I8 Togan. See Velidi Tolstoi, D. A.: and Il'minskii system, 64, 67-68,82, IIy, I22-23, I28;and Russian-Tatar schools, I44, I48, 34Y Tolstoy, L. N., y6-y7, 270, 306 Tomsk, I8y, 2I3 Totskii, I. P., 230 Trans baikal Mission, 73-74 Travel literature, I47• I59-6o, Iy6 Trigger, Bruce, I93 Tukai, G., 331 Turkestan, 20, 27, 8o, I8y, 26y; and Il'minskii system, 90, I25n36;

missionaries in, 30I, 305. See also Central Asia; Kazakh steppe Turkey. See Ottoman Empire Turkic languages and peoples, 4, I], 24, 32, 34-35 Turkology and Turkologists, I47-49; at Kazan Theological Academy, so, 54-55, 9I-Y3i at Kazan University, I6o-68, I77-8o, 3I4-I6. See also Ethnography; Islamology; Orientalism Turnerelli, E. T., 42-43 Tylor, Edward B.: I]3, I]5, 202-7, 2I4 Udmurts. See Votiaks Ufa, 30, 33, 37, I2I, I24, I39, I46, 2]I, 276, 3I], 330; muftiate, 22, 136; Tatar Teachers School, I43• I5Ii Theological Seminary, 66, ]I, 83 Ukraine and Ukrainians, 76, y3, 293 Ulyanov, I. N., 77 Union of Muslims (Ittifak), 268-70, 279 Union of Russian People, 258-59, 327 Universities, I32, I37• 3Io. See also Kazan University Urals region, 3, 20, 33n72, 50 Ushinskii, K D., I44-45 Uvarov, A. S., I]O Uvarov, S. S., 25, I6o, I86 Vaisians, I49nr43, I84, 332 Valikhanov, Ch., 326 Vasil'ev. A. V., 326 Velidi (Togan), Z., 37,45-46, y8fi42, 326, 33I, 338 Verbitskii, V.I., 3I2 Vereshchagin, G. V., 205, 207, 209, 2I6, 30Y Veselovskii, N. I., 3I 2 Viatka, 20, 30, 3In6I, 34, I24, I46, I95, Iy8, 20I, 207, 254 Volkov, A. K, 96 von Kaufinan. See Kaufinan Voskresenskii, A. A., 249, 25I, 26o-6I Votiaks (Udmurts), 4, I8, 30, 34; and human sacrifice, 34, I95-222, 238; and Il'minskii system, 6I, ]I, uo, I34fi74• 238, 2 5Yi Christianization of, 2 I, 34, I96, 211, 2I5, 2I], 238; economic life of, 33, IY5i ethnography of, 9I, I]2, I]4, Iy6-97, 205-6, 2o8-I4; literacy of and literature for, 52, 82, Iy5-y6, 255; population data, 3 I-32, IY5i religion of, 34, IY5· I99-2oo, 205-6; Russian influence on, 34, I96, 2o5; Votiak Teachers School, I25 Wei!, Gustav, 96 Weske, W. P., I63n23, I]I

Western Europe, 270, 283-84, 317; Russia compared with, 7, 8r, r6r, r86, 262, 326; Russians opposed to influence of, 147-48, I 52, I 56, r6o, 336, 346-47; scholarship of, 93-96, 173, 175, 193, 22!, 336 Witte, S. lu., 267 Women, 39, 42, 109, 132; in ethnography, r69n43; in missions, 82, 306; Tatar, 37n85,4I,43-44, roo, ro6n77, 142, r65, 137n87 World War I, 6, r56, 26r, 28r

Young Turks, 279-80 Zalesskii, V. F., 258-59 Zemstvos, zonr8, 38; and ll'minskii schools, r22, 124, 125, 257; and schools for Muslims, 289, 291 Zenkovsky, Serge, 28r-82 Zhirnov, 0. M., 201, 210 Zhuze,P.~, 232,276,333, 334fi86 Znamenskii, P. V., 58, 68n81, 131, 133 Zolotnitskii, N. 1., 120, 122, 167, 191 Zyrians, 33n72, 125. See also Permiaks