Russia’s relationship with its neighbours and with the West has worsened dramatically in recent years. Under Vladimir Putin’s leadership, the country has annexed Crimea, begun a war in Eastern Ukraine, used chemical weapons on the streets of the UK and created an army of Internet trolls to meddle in the US presidential elections. How should we understand this apparent relapse into aggressive imperialism and militarism?
In this book, Sergei Medvedev argues that this new wave of Russian nationalism is the result of mentalities that have long been embedded within the Russian psyche. Whereas in the West, the turbulent social changes of the 1960s and a rising awareness of the legacy of colonialism have modernized attitudes, Russia has been stymied by an enduring sense of superiority over its neighbours alongside a painful nostalgia for empire. It is this infantilized and irrational worldview that Putin and others have exploited, as seen most clearly in Russia’s recent foreign policy decisions, including the annexation of Crimea.
This sharp and insightful book, full of irony and humour, shows how the archaic forces of imperial revanchism have been brought back to life, shaking Russian society and threatening the outside world. It will be of great interest to anyone trying to understand the forces shaping Russian politics and society today.
The Return of the Russian Leviathan is published by Wiley in the US and Polity in the UK.
REVIEWS
‘This is the best treatise on contemporary Russia since John Reed’s pamphlet that shook the world one hundred years ago. Moving from the endangered Arctic to the occupied Crimea and from the politics of the body to memory wars, Medvedev reveals a political machine based on vanity, manipulation and fear of its own people. Broad-ranging in scope and mind-blowing in details, this book is a must for everyone who is concerned about Russia’s present and future.’ - Alexander Etkind, author of Internal Colonization: Russia’s Imperial Experience
‘Is Putin’s regime a Russian peculiarity or is it simply the Russian version of a global trend? Was it inevitable or was it accidental? If you are worried by these questions, read this passionately analytical book.’ - Ivan Krastev, Chairman, Centre for Liberal Strategies, Sofia
‘While there are many books about President Vladimir Putin’s Russia, there are few that nail its realities with the same combination of academic precision, acerbic wit and anger as this. Well-researched analysis might be expected of a professor of Moscow’s Higher School of Economics, but not necessarily the humour and passion that run through the striking work.’ - The Financial Times
‘Medvedev's portrait of Russia is brilliant, wry and minutely observed -- and, like its title, often bitterly ironic.’ - Times Literary Supplement
"As a portrait of the cultural moment and debunking of the Kremlin’s talking points, [this] book is brilliant." - Los Angeles Review of Books
"A more astute, knowledgeable and eloquent guide is hard to imagine. Steeped in Russian culture and history, Mr. Medvedev is witty and sardonic in the laughter-through-tears (smekh skvoz slyozy) tradition of Russian literature. He draws on political sociology, linguistics and social psychology, yet his prose, even in translation, is sparkling." - The Wall Street Journal
five minutes with sergei medvedev
Interview for Pushkin House by Andrew Jack (@AJack)
How did this book come about?
My academic work concerns the triangle between history, politics and sociology. I write on Russian political history, theories of modernity, biopolitics, and environmental studies. But I also have a popular daily blog on Facebook. Those sometimes inspire my weekly columns in various Russian periodicals linked to current affairs, including in Russian Forbes, Slon (now called Republic) and Vedomosti. I rearranged those into a collection, re-wrote quite a few, and added some new texts. When put together, these texts turned out to have a much stronger critical appeal, as a systemic deconstruction of the current political regime in Russia. Therefore, it was quite difficult to produce the book. Two different major publishers were going to produce it and then stopped printing on the order of the owners. They simply didn’t want to take the political risk. But then, a small independent publisher appeared, called Individuum, and produced the book quickly, to some success – the book had five prints in Russia and was translated into eight languages.
What was the reaction in Russia?
Those who were expected to be unhappy were unhappy, since I have quite a reputation for critical thinking. There were positive reviews in the liberal media, and I also had a book tour across Russia and the neighboring countries, from Irkutsk and Novosibirsk to Vilnius and Tbilisi, receiving much interest and support from the readers.
What about the government’s reaction?
The authorities are sensitive to what I write, which is quite surprising. I don’t think my weekly columns or Facebook posts can seriously challenge power because it is quite consolidated. This is rather an old Russian tradition of sensitivity of the authorities to texts– the power in Russia is literature-centric. And then, there are new laws almost every month to criminalise words and thoughts, which can lead to a sizeable fine, or even imprisonment. There is a permanent danger looming.
Are you more cautious in your writing as a result?
I try to be as outspoken as I can but I have to weigh every word for the risk of criminal prosecution. That’s a very interesting stylistic task. I still say what I think and what I want. But I am more analytical than emotional in my choice of words which in the end only reinforces my message. Living under censorship is a venerable Russian tradition from the eighteenth to the twenty-first century. Public speech is like a conflict zone, a high tension area. There is lots of animosity, agitation and hate speech across the entire public discourse. But you get used to it.
Do you have any desire to emigrate?
That’s always an option, but there has to be a clear and present danger to my safety and freedom which I haven’t yet detected. For me, it’s a personal choice to stay in Russia and to observe, to comment and to try and change minds around me. Emigration has always been a part of the Russian story. Many fellow journalists and intellectuals have moved to Riga, Vilnius, Prague, Kiev, Berlin. I lived in the west for fifteen years, but in 2003 I made a conscious decision to relocate back and to make a new life in Russia, to build my small universe of various jobs, human connections, and, most of all, words. This is what I cherish and I won’t give it up so easily.
Do your students share your views?
At the Higher School of Economics, we have a very select audience. Ninety per cent are like-minded people. They may think the same but most of them don’t want to stage any political protest. Maybe 10 per cent sign on-line petitions and go on opposition rallies. The others understand but they have lives, careers, their future to think about. Very few of my students will go on a demonstration, but people of my age, in their 40s and 50s, will. We had this period of openness and freedom, the idea that people can change things. In the late 1980s and early 1990s, my generation was demonstrating against the Communist rule, and then on the barricades around the White House in 1991. But we were the Last of the Mohicans, we were quite idealistic and believed that the world can be a better place. And these young people were born under Putin. They don’t even understand that there can be free presidential elections, an alternative to Putin. There is a mental shift, and the arrival of a new, pragmatic, generation.
What is your view on Russia today?
Russia cannot come to terms with its own past. That is a symptom of a profoundly disoriented society with no idea of the future, no link to the present day, and only the delusion of past greatness. It’s a very infantalistic society stuck in the past. Yeltsin did not break the perennial structures of the Russian empire of the last 500 years. The state made by Ivan the Terrible in the sixteenth century is still there. These are very old structures of the authoritarian state which Putin has inherited and reinforced, supported by oil revenues. In a secular perspective, it is doomed. Russia is an empire in an age when empires have gone. This can’t continue forever. Russian Empire had major breakdowns, in 1917 and 1991. The third one is to come, and Russia has yet to convert from an Empire to a normal nation-state.
Was it inevitable that Putin would end up taking the direction he did?
I don’t have a ready answer. I saw the change inside the man. I have to confess that at the time I made my decision to relocate back to Russia in 2003, I was quite optimistic about Russia. It seemed the country was on an irreversible course to normalcy, with modernised institutions, a web of economic dependency with the West, a globalised elite, an open society and a relatively free press. Then I saw this death by a million cuts. It started with Yukos affair in 2003, the reaction to terrorist act in Beslan in 2004, and the first Maidan in Ukraine later the same year, Putin’s Munich speech in 2007, and the invasion of Georgia in 2008... Probably these were the inevitable last acts of the ailing Russian Empire before it had totally outlived itself.
Are you optimistic about the future?
I hope in my lifetime that I will see the demise of this regime. I don’t know how long it will take, especially since the rules of the game are permanently changing. Most likely, change will not come from within the country, from the social pressure or political turmoil. In Russian history, it always came from outside. I don’t see political activity breaking the regime, but it’s important that it continues so there are figures to take over if and when the system weakens. Six months ago, I thought the whole story was sealed for the next decade, with no change likely till the early 2030s. Suddenly the game is wide open, with the virus and the global lockdown, especially with low oil prices, with dwindling financial reserves, collapsing businesses, hesitant elites and Putin in hiding. I cannot say that change will occur in the near future but the range of scenarios is now much broader, and the future is wide open.
Sergei Medvedev is Professor in the Faculty of Social Sciences at the Higher School of Economics in Moscow. Previously, he worked at the Marshall Center for Security Studies in Germany, the Finnish Institute of International Affairs (Helsinki), the Stiftung Wissenschaft und Politik (Ebenhausen), the Istituto Affari Internazionali (Rome) and the Institute of Europe (Moscow).
q & a with stephen dalziel, translator of the return of the russian leviathan by sergei medvedev
How did you first become interested in Russia?
A: For no obvious reason – with no family connection - I was fascinated by Russia even when I was a small boy back in the 1960s. When I was 13, a teacher at school offered to teach a Russian class – and I was hooked after one lesson! From then on, my path was obvious e: O-level, A-level, degree in Russian Studies – and then I’ve been fortunate enough to use my Russian and work with Russia for nearly 40 years
How difficult was Sergei’s book to translate?
I’ve worked with political and historical texts for many years, so generally the language was familiar to me. Of course, the challenge with any translation is not only to convey the meaning and the spirit of the original, but also make the translation read well in English. It was a great help that Sergei has excellent English, so I would send him each chapter after I had made my first draft and then we would agree the text together. He was the ideal author for a translator to work with!
Give a few examples of any words, phrases or concepts that were particularly challenging to translate into English.
Sometimes as a translator you understand a phrase perfectly because you are thinking in the language of the original and not translating for yourself, but have to think hard about how best to render it in English. One such phrase was, ‘Я вспоминаю свой школьный выпускной’. I eventually settled on, ‘I remember well my school-leaving “do”’. At first, this puzzled Sergei, but I explained that describing this event as ‘a do’ fitted perfectly. It is a sign of our cooperation that Sergei took my word for it!
There are always going to be words and phrases that you feel need some explanation for the non-Russian reader; after all, you hope it won’t only be people with a close interest in Russia who will read the book. So as I went through, I inserted endnotes and also compiled a glossary of names and terms such as muzhik, patsan and even perestroika (younger readers may not remember Gorbachev!).
Titles – of the book and of chapters – can be a challenge. The original book in Russian was called Парк Крымского периода, as it is Sergei’s thesis that post-Soviet Russian history divides into the period before the invasion of Crimea, and since. He and I settled on Crimassic Park, but the publisher preferred to go with his original sub-title, The Return of the Russian Leviathan.
What is your next translation project?
I’ve been lucky to have a project in lockdown: to translate The Soviet Passport by Albert Baiburin. Most countries in Europe dispensed with internal passports in the nineteenth century, but it was only after the Bolshevik Revolution that Russia stopped using them. But they were re-introduced in 1932, and became a crucial tool for controlling population movement. It’s a fascinating and little-explored piece of Russian and Soviet history.
Stephen Dalziel is a Russian specialist, translator and author. Stephen worked at the Soviet Studies Research Centre at the Royal Military Academy, Sandhurst after completing a degree in Russian Studies. He later worked as a Russian Affairs Analyst at the BBC World Service and spent five years as Executive Director of the Russo-British Chamber of Commerce (RBCC).
2020 shortlist
